by Smith, Yessi
“You’re a class act, Trent,” I told him and smiled, hoping the sadness I felt wasn’t obvious. “I grew up in a lot of places and the cops I came across wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
Trent gently brushed his hand across my cheek, watching me, maybe waiting for me to fumble away from him again. I held myself still, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with Trent while I felt my heart beat at a radically fast pace, and willed myself to breathe normally. He finally broke contact and I relaxed, but was also slightly disappointed at the sudden disconnect. “Most people laugh at that story,” he told me.
“Yeah, well,” I shrugged and took his water away from him so I could have another sip before we started snorkeling.
The whole notion of swimming in the ocean, a foreigner in a world I wasn’t sure I was welcomed, still intimidated me. But I had to admit I was glad I had agreed to go. Not because Trent would take hold of my hand every so often or because our bodies kept touching. No, it was because of the colors and the fish. Just like last time.
Or maybe not quite like last time. Maybe a bit better because Trent would nonchalantly take hold of my hand and grin at me underwater. And because our bodies would keep touching, ever so slightly, almost like a whisper or a promise of what was to come. My body very much wanted to know what was to come; yearned for it. My brain, not so much. It was apparent though, that at some point I had decided to quit listening to my brain, just this once, and allow things to happen naturally.
Our time under water was over too soon. While my friends speared, I tried to concentrate on the book I had brought but my thoughts kept going back to Trent. And the warmth that lingered over my skin in the places he had touched. I wondered how long it would take for his warmth to spread into more dangerous territories and take hold of my heart. It wasn’t something I longed for, but felt its inevitable pull.
Although I couldn’t find the focus to read my book, I stared at the words, trying to make sense out of them. I only looked up to see my friends climb back on the boat, animated from their hunt and eventual kills. I smiled at them and their words but wasn’t fully content until I leaned into Trent’s broad shoulders as we made our way back to land. Recognizing the song playing from Jermaine’s mp3 player, I quietly hummed along to It Hurts to be Alone and hoped Bob Marley’s words weren’t some sort of premonition.
Chapter 7
Shayna
After changing her diaper, Nate held up his baby doll triumphantly. She watched him and felt herself smile before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to hide her smile, but wasn’t sure she should smile at him. He’d taken her away from Momma.
She would never see Momma again, she had come to realize. People didn’t come back from Heaven. Why would they, when they could become angels? Beautiful, with wings that could take them anywhere they wanted. And Momma didn’t want to go to her because she was a nasty girl; too loud, too needy, too dumb.
Her Momma living in Heaven made her sad, but if she were honest with herself, her Momma living with her in their home also made her sad. She should be happy where she lived now. It had been a long time since anyone had yelled at her or hit her. But it wasn’t her home.
Nate told her she’d go home soon. To a sister that she wanted to tell him didn’t exist.
Chapter 8
Erin
Just as quickly as it started, our winter break was over, leaving us wanting more. In class, I already missed the lack of responsibilities school breaks offered us. Really only an illusion, but missed nonetheless.
We spent the remainder of our break in Key West, Camilla and I comfortably cramped in Dave’s apartment, sleeping on inflatable beds spread across the living room floor. Our days consisted of nothing more than relaxing on the beach while our nights were endless parties. We followed Dave and the rest of the band from venue to venue. Sometimes Trent joined them on stage, but most of the time he sat with me. And flirted relentlessly.
I thought about Key West and Trent as the professor droned on. I tried to pay attention, I really did, but my brain was elsewhere. I wished I could say I was thinking about registering for the NCLEX-RN exam after graduation, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t even thinking about the internship I’d be starting tomorrow. Nope, my brain was completely engrossed in Key West and Trent, but mostly just Trent. How frustrating.
After class I made my way to the lunch hall to meet up with Camilla. She had already bought our personal pizzas from the local pizza joint and was sitting outside sipping her soda. With a dramatic sigh I sat down next to her and opened up my pizza box, immediately salivating.
“School sucks,” Camilla greeted me.
“For losers,” I agreed between bites.
“What’s the game plan for tonight?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I wanna have sex.”
“Okay,” Camilla nodded at me. “But shouldn’t you guys kiss first?”
“Probably,” I agreed. “How do I get him to do both?”
“Dress slutty,” she said and I stared at her. “Naked twister? Drinking games?”
“You’re helpful,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
“All three suggestions are guaranteed to get you laid.”
***
Despite Camilla’s advice, I dressed casually, but wore a new bra and underwear I had bought on my way home and left my twister mat safely tucked away in my closet. I had devised a simple plan which consisted of tequila and a scary movie. Probably as transparent as any of Camilla’s suggestions, but I felt better about it.
Trent was still in uniform when I got to his apartment, and I nearly fell on my face when I saw him. When had a man in a police uniform become so damn hot? While Trent showered, I took advantage and snooped through the living room. With pictures of his family and places they had been together adorned throughout the room, it wasn’t quite the man cave I had imagined in my head. I should have figured he was a family guy.
I picked up one picture in particular. Trent’s familiar no barrier smile looked back at me. His eyes were shining as he held his parents on either side of him. His mom had an identical smile as Trent while his dad’s smile was more reserved. Behind them was—
“The Grand Canyon,” Trent said, finishing my thoughts. He took the picture from me and looked at it, remembering his vacation. “We went this past summer. Most beautiful place I’ve been to.”
“Dave didn’t go?”
“He took the picture. After that he convinced our parents to hike down to the bottom and camp.” Trent laughed at the memory.
I found myself caught up in Trent’s memory and happiness and wanted to know more. “Did ya’ll make it down there?”
“Yeah,” Trent responded. “It was hot as hell, and none of us were wearing the right hiking boots, so we got blisters everywhere, but we made it.”
“You had fun,” I stated simply, and was met with one of Trent’s half-moon smile.
“It was one of our best vacations. My mom loves animals and had to stop to take pictures every five minutes, so it took us a good eight hours to get to the bottom. Everyone was in a pretty good mood.” He shrugged.
“Sounds amazing,” I said wistfully.
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. We should go sometime.”
We. It amazed me how anyone could throw in a we after only a week of knowing each other. Especially when some people didn’t have a we after years of knowing one another. “Sure,” I agreed.
I walked over to the Chinese food Trent had ordered us and smelled it. “I’m hungry,” I told him.
Trent took out some plates and silverware for us. “Beer?” he asked, and I nodded, wondering if he thought I was rude for changing the subject so quickly.
“I brought The Exorcist,” I told him as we sat down to eat.
“And Patron,” he noted.
“My favorite adult beverage,” I told him and he raised an eyebrow. Immediately I blushed and decided to switch the conversation to safer territory. “What are
your parents like?”
Trent smiled at me, and I spent the rest of dinner learning about his parents, who were, as it turned out, every kid’s dream. He didn’t just have a family; he had a great family and was one of the few people I knew who actually had fond memories of his childhood.
After dinner, we made our way to the living room where Trent put on The Exorcist and I poured us generous shots of Patron. When Trent sat down next to me, he pulled me towards him and I felt him kiss the back of my head. I couldn’t help but smile at such a casual gesture of affection. I could only wish my heart would beat a bit slower. I was pretty sure it was going to pop right out of my chest and land perfectly on his lap.
I was comfortable with Trent’s arms wrapped around me, but nervous to the point of internal hysteria. So I took a shot of Patron to calm myself. Trent followed my lead, and we drank a shot and then a second shot in silence. As the movie played and the Patron worked its magic, I felt my body relax against Trent’s.
In a typical female manner, I was far more interested in Trent and hardly watched the movie. For courage, I took another shot of Patron and found myself laughing at the scene in the movie in which the little girl goes downstairs and wets herself.
“I didn’t realize this was a comedy.” I looked over at Trent, all smiles. Trent looked at me intently and put his hand on my face. I knew what was going to happen and I relished the thought of it. I felt my heart hammer in my chest and waited. Why was I so nervous? I had kissed a dozen guys before this. But this was different, because Trent was different.
With his fingers wrapped around my hair, he inched towards me. Already I could taste his breath, and I opened my mouth slightly, an invitation to take what he wanted and what I needed. His lips were soft on mine, a sort of slow exploration between our lips and tongue. With my breath coming in and out fast, my heart pounding in my ears, I forgot everything and melted. I very literally felt my body melt into his, making us one.
I maneuvered my body so that I could lie down on top of him and initiated sex the only way I knew how. It wasn’t romantic or subtle, but it had always worked for me. I thought Trent would make an immediate grab for my ass or boobs, but he surprised me. Instead he continued to play with my hair. Frustrated, I asked Trent if he had any condoms. Blunt, to the point, no sugar coating.
“Later,” he responded and I withdrew. Later? “I want you, Erin,” he said, combing his fingers through his own hair in obvious frustration, which pleased me a little. At least he was as agitated as I was. “Damnit, I want you. But not like this,” he said, pointing at the almost empty bottle of Patron.
I understood what he was saying, I really did, but I withdrew even further. He wanted me, but he wanted me sober. I’d never been with a man sober. It felt too intimate, too knowing, too everything. “No.” I shook my head at him because I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I got up from the couch to get my stuff, but Trent stopped me and held me in his arms so tightly that I should have felt claustrophobic. But I didn’t. What I did feel was safe. How had Trent become safe? Sneaky bastard.
“Come to bed with me,” Trent said, still hugging me tightly, and I nodded. He led me to his room and to his bed. “I just want to hold you,” he told me, and I looked at him confused.
Hold me? As in cuddle? I would have laughed if he didn’t look so serious. So I followed him to bed, slipping under the covers fully clothed. I couldn’t believe I had spent close to a hundred dollars on a bra and underwear that wouldn’t be seen.
I knew what he was doing. He wanted me to know he wasn’t like the others and I wouldn’t be treated as such. He wanted me to know I could trust him. He wanted me to know he cared about me. And I appreciated it. Because I remembered the first time I had had sex.
I was fourteen years old; tall and skinny with even less curves than I had now. We were poor and I was hungry, to the point that I had scavenged up enough money to buy a couple of potatoes that I had turned into our dinner for the past two days. But still, my mother had an even stronger appetite for her drugs.
The man who came into my bed was older, maybe in his forties. My mother had instructed me not to scream or cry or she wouldn’t get the money he had promised. So I didn’t. I asked for some alcohol, which he took as not only assent, but eagerness to be with him. He came back with a bottle of Jim Beam, which I greedily took from him and swallowed as much as I could stomach before pulling it away from my lips, hoping for some disorientation.
He hadn’t wanted me to close my eyes as he undressed me, so I looked at him without really seeing anything. Outside I could hear my neighbors laughing, and I imagined I was with them, listening to them talk without partaking in their conversations. Eminem was playing in the background somewhere. I didn’t know where, but I clung to his words and allowed my mind to drift somewhere far away enough that this world couldn’t hurt me.
As promised, Trent held me and I fell asleep.
I woke up the following morning with Trent’s arm wrapped around me, holding me close to him. I smiled at his sleeping face. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but there I was in Trent’s bed grinning like an idiot, practically knocking on love’s door. With that thought, I tried to shift away from him carefully so as not to wake him so I could go to the bathroom, but he only pulled me closer to him. I looked back at his face and saw him staring at me.
“I gotta pee, Trent. Really, really bad.”
Grudgingly, he let me go. Once I was done, I started to look through his bathroom for toothpaste and put some on my finger, a half-ass attempt at killing my morning breath. I hopped back into bed where Trent waited for me.
I saw it in his eyes, just how hard last night had been, and exactly what he wanted from me that morning. And incredibly, I wanted to give it to him. Sober and all. I closed my eyes for a moment and spoke a silent prayer for a bit of courage.
Trent inched his face closer to mine and kissed me, the same gentle entanglement of lips and tongue. I whispered his name into his mouth and somehow unleashed the primal part of Trent that was all desire. He pressed his lips to mine, hungry and adamant. He undid my jeans as I tossed my shirt to the side. Just as quickly, he took off his own clothes.
“Condom,” I almost shouted, already out of breath, and he obliged.
With our bare bodies entwined in one another, I ran my hands down his arms, shoulders, and back, feeling his muscles twitch in response. I ached for him. An aching so strong I thought I would scream when Trent finally filled me. And I felt the emptiness I always carried within myself fill as well. I felt whole, alive, wanted. With every frenzied thrust, I felt more and wanted more. On a gasp, Trent roared and I shouted out his name as I felt both our bodies go limp.
With Trent lying down next to me, I let my mind drift to silly fantasies of lazy days on the beaches of Mexico. As B.O.B’s song So Good played in my head, I hoped I could always be Trent’s señorita.
Chapter 9
Erin – April 2013
Life was good. The semester, my last semester, was finally over, and I could breathe in the fresh air of being a college graduate. No more tests, papers, or presentations. That’s it, I was done. The pediatrician’s office I had been interning at had offered me a full-time job once I passed my NCLEX-RN exam. I had more or less moved into Trent’s apartment, but had kept my apartment in Little Havana for my own security purposes. Yeah, life was pretty damn good.
To celebrate my newfound freedom and official progression into adulthood, Camilla and I had decided to cook dinner for our friends. Having never cooked anything more than ramen, this was sure to be a disaster. I couldn’t wait.
After weeks of going through recipes online, we had settled on a pot roast with carrots and roasted potatoes. Trent was in charge of the alcohol, while Jermaine and Brianna had agreed to bring a salad and Tonya was to bring dessert. Just thinking about our upcoming meal made me feel like an adult.
I cautiously cut the onions symmetrically, careful not to slice a finger. With al
l the concentration I could muster up at the task at hand, I finished cutting the onions and reached for the garlic when Camilla shot water at my face from the hose in the sink.
“What the hell?”
“This is supposed to be fun, Erin. Lighten the fuck up and enjoy,” she told me and sprayed me again.
I slowly put down my knife, reached for my bottle of Corona, and threw the contents in Camilla’s face. Not to be outdone, Camilla grabbed the cup of cooking wine I had set aside for the roast and taunted me with it.
“Don’t you dare, Cam,” I warned her as she inched closer to me. “Don’t do it!” But it was too late. Mayhem ensued with us tossing whatever we could find at one another, laughing and chasing one another like a couple of school girls.
Trent walked into my apartment to find us sitting on the floor, soaking wet and laughing hysterically. He cleared his throat to get our attention and I quickly got up to give him a hug. “Hi,” I told him.
“I can’t leave you girls alone for five minutes,” he told us just before he kissed me on the top of my head. It was my favorite place to be kissed. Well, one of my favorite places. But to me, a peck on the forehead was genuine, a simple form of affection I’d never been given.
I hugged him close when I noticed he was carrying several bags. “What’s that?” I asked him.
“A present,” he told me.
“A present? For me?” I leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of it.
“Of course for you,” he replied, already accustomed to my reaction to his casual acts of kindness.
“Well, let me see then,” I told him, extending my hand toward the bags and felt my chest expand with the warmth I associated with Trent.
“Shower first,” he said, lightly smacking me in the butt. I couldn’t remember when we had grown so at ease with one another, but I basked in the feel of it.
“Chewey’s right,” Camilla said as she gave us both a kiss on the cheek. “I’m off.”
“Chewey?” Trent asked me once Camilla left. “You didn’t?” he asked, shaking his head.