Until

by Anna B. Doe

  After all, it’s easier to build something new, than to repair something that’s been damaged and broken into tiny pieces.

  “Johnny created who you are now,” Anabel whispers.

  “You could say that. He saved me from myself and he was, and still is, a really good friend.”

  “He is a nice guy.” There is a light pause. “Do you still think about him? That guy?”

  “No,” my answer is instant. “He is not in my life anymore, but I learned my lesson and I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

  “What about J.D. then?”

  “J.D. and I are friends.”

  Anabel gives me a mocking look, raising her brow.

  “We are friends,” I insist. “Friends that, when they feel like it, spend some time enjoying each other’s company.”

  “Some company you are enjoying.”

  “You know it, girl.” I wink at her and get up. “Now I’m going to bed. I need my beauty sleep, after all.”

  But more than that, I need time.

  Time to close the wounds I reopened and collect myself.

  Time to start feeling more like me, and less like the girl I was all those years before.

  “Come on,” I drag. “You can do better than that!”

  Grace runs to retrieve the ball she ran away from when I threw it in her direction. Like a dozen times. Her chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail swings from side to side as she moves.

  She keeps saying I’m throwing it too strong, but I call bullshit.

  I know my own strength, and there is no way I would risk throwing the ball too strong and hurting her in the process. She’s a klutz that is scared of the ball. There is no graceful bone in her body. Makes me wonder how she is doing in her dance classes.

  Aren’t dancers supposed to be elegant and graceful? Like Sienna. With lean, toned bodies that seem to glide as they walk. But soon after the thought enters my brain I shove it away.

  I haven’t seen or heard from her in weeks. I tried texting her but she never replied. The last time we were together was after the game William tricked Anabel and her into attending. She did seem a bit off that day, but everybody has a right to feel off every once in a while.

  However, that was all the way back in January. Talk about a brush off. We did say it—whatever you want to call the thing that we agreed on—would be casual. Apparently, casual isn’t defined the same way in both of our dictionaries.

  “I told you not to throw it so strongly,” she yells at me once she is a few feet away.

  I roll my eyes, but luckily, she doesn’t see it because the brim of my baseball hat is pulled low on my forehead.

  She’s the one who suggested this. Said she wanted to try something I loved and did for a living, so I took her to the park to toss a ball around. If I knew this would be disastrous there is no way I would have done it.

  Okay, maybe I would. She is going out of her way to try something that makes me happy. Grace wants to make me happy and understand me. How can I say no to that?

  She didn’t say anything in the last few weeks of the season when I was living more in The Knights’ facilities and on the road than I did in my own house. Now that the season is over I have more free time and I use it to spend time with my sister and get to know her.

  I still go to the team’s facilities to do my morning off-season workout and do some of my own in the afternoons, but overall it isn’t as hectic as it was before we lost in the playoffs.

  The thought still stings and makes me frown, but there isn’t much I, or anybody else, can do now about it. I’m not thrilled with how things worked out, but I have to concentrate on my future.

  Only a couple of years of football are left in me.

  I can feel it in my bones. But more than anything, I’m tired.

  The sport took its toll on me—broken bones, pulled muscles, bruises—even with the right diet and exercise, the body can take only so much before breaking completely. And I don’t want to leave like a loser with tail between my legs. I want to win the only thing I’m missing—the Super Bowl ring—and then retire from the game. I don’t know what exactly I want to do after I retire, but I figure I have time to decide, it isn’t like I’m in a hurry.

  Maybe I should do what I wanted if the whole professional football thing didn’t come true and join my dad on the police force, or maybe I could coach football. Both options appeal to me, but they are still too far down the road to make a final decision.

  “Sienna!” Grace shouts loudly, snapping me out of my own thoughts.

  Did she just …

  My eyes lift and zoom on the woman that stopped her afternoon jog and opened her arms to catch the little, not-so-little, girl running toward her in excitement.

  It’s like my passing thought of her conjured her in the real life, leaving me breathless.

  Sienna is even more beautiful then I remembered.

  Her dark hair is lifted into a ponytail and a pink baseball cap is covering her head and shielding her face from me. Still, there is no mistaking her height or slender and graceful build for anyone else.

  A black and pink zip hoodie are protecting her from the chilly March air. In spandex-covered legs, slightly bent so that she is on the same level as Grace. Pale, delicate fingers push a few stray strands of chestnut hair behind Grace’s ear as Sienna smiles and listens to whatever she’s blabbing about.

  My heart squeezes in my chest and then it starts kicking hard against my ribs. Looking at them like this … I wasn’t sure what to make out of it.

  They look close, friendly. The way Grace talks, openly and excitedly, the way Sienna brushes Grace’s hair aside with familiarity and care suggests closeness between them I don’t know what to do with.

  Grace needs a woman in her life. No, she craves a woman in her life.

  There is Mrs. Tayson, but she can’t give her what Grace needs. I’m not deceiving myself. I maybe didn’t spend a lot of time with my sister but the little time I was with her I saw her looking at girls walking around with their sisters and mothers. I saw the longing in her eyes. The longing I could connect with. And part of me is glad she has somebody like Sienna. The other part? Scared shitless of what it all means.

  In a few long strides, I’m beside them.

  “Grace?” I look down at her with a questioning look in my eyes.

  “J.D.” She turns to me with the same big smile that she was giving to Sienna a few seconds ago. “This is Sienna. She sometimes comes to my dance classes. Sienna, this is my brother, J.D.”

  “Is that so?”

  Sienna lifts her head and although the rim of her hat casts a shadow over her eyes, I can see general confusion written all over her face, but she doesn’t say anything.

  The words slip from Grace’s lips so easily and effortlessly. She never called me brother before. Not in front of me, anyway. Just J.D. So, it surprised me she would introduce me as her brother to Sienna.

  I wait for the panic of Sienna knowing about the relationship between Grace and me to overtake me, but nothing comes. Maybe it’s because this is Sienna. She knows how it is to be in the spotlight and people digging through your life for even the smallest, most insignificant stuff so I don’t have to worry about her going around and telling this to people.

  What would she get out of it anyway?

  I have yet to piss her off so much she’d want to get her revenge on me.

  Grace and I talked and decided we wouldn’t come out about her relationship to me just yet. Nobody except my father and Mrs. Tayson know. And well, now Sienna.

  “Yeah, she’s Mrs. Roberts’, my dance teacher’s, daughter. She also works as a model so she can’t come too often, but when she does she helps me a lot with my moves.”

  Her excited voice makes me crack a smile. I hadn’t seen her this excited about something or someone in a while.

  “Don’t you think she’s petty?” Grace looks over her shoulder, innocently batting her long eyelashes at me.

 
This time I laugh out loud. The deep, belly laugh that overtakes you and makes you lean forward holding onto your stomach with both hands.

  “What’s so funny, Shelton?” Sienna stares at me under the rim of the hat, frowning.

  “Nothing.” I shrug but don’t hide my smile. “Just laughing at this little devil here.”

  Teasingly, I pull Grace’s ponytail, but she slaps my hand away. “You are going to mess it all up, and you promised me you’ll take me to ice cream.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” I pull at the tips of her hair once again. For good measure. “What about playing football?”

  “You sure did.” She frowns at me. “And playing football with you sucks. You are too strong. Maybe I should teach you some ballet moves next time.”

  “What?” My voice is loud enough to move few heads in our direction, but Grace ignores me and turns to Sienna with a hopeful smile on her lips.

  “You want to come with us, Sienna?”

  “I—”

  By the look on her face, I can see that she wants to say no, but I also see that she doesn’t want to disappoint my sister.

  Her friend.

  “I’m sure you want to spend some time with your brother,” Sienna says carefully.

  “I see him every day now.” She waves it off and turns to look at me. “J.D., can Sienna come with us, please?”

  “Maybe she has somewhere else to be.” I try to be diplomatic, but that earns me a dissatisfied pout from Grace.

  “I don’t … I’m free,” she says, her hand nervously brushing away invisible strands of hair. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not,” Grace insists, looking at us. “Please? Pretty please?”

  Amber eyes meet mine over Grace’s head. We stare at each other for a few long seconds. It seems more like minutes or hours.

  White teeth bite into plum red lips. Her face is free of makeup and her cheeks are rosy from the cool breeze and running. The need to kiss her right here right now pangs at my heart. But there is nothing I can do.

  This isn’t the place or the time.

  “You coming?”

  “So …” Sienna plays with what’s left of her ice cream in the bowl. “You have a sister.”

  I take one deep breath in, not knowing what to say.

  Avoiding her inquiring gaze, I look at Grace who is sitting on one of the outside tables with two other girls.

  She introduced them as her classmates, one of them being Lucy—the girl she spent New Year’s with. When they invited her to spend some time with them I saw the battle inside of her, but both Sienna and I assured her she should go and spend some time with her friends.

  Sienna … Is she making a statement? Or is she asking a question? It could easily be both, but I don’t know what to say to any of it. How to explain. So, I shrug.

  “You know—” she looks at me, not in the least discouraged “—there was something vaguely familiar about her from the moment I met her, but I could never exactly place it. Now seeing you side by side, I can finally point it out. It’s the eyes. They are this same light, forest shade of green.”

  “Yep, we have the same eye color.”

  Like our mother.

  Unwanted thoughts invade my brain, making me angry.

  She is the last person I want to think about. I didn’t do it for years. Not until Grace walked in my life, but now she doesn’t seem to stop creeping her way into my mind.

  Making me worried and thinking what would happen if she ever wanted more money. What would happen if she contacted Grace or changed her mind and took her away?

  “You never mentioned her.”

  Another statement-question. Typical woman thing to do—say something random and then fish for the answers.

  “When was I supposed to tell you, Sienna?” My voice is a low growl. I lean in, my elbows touching the table as I look at her. “Somewhere between fuck number one and fuck number two?”

  Her body twitches away like I slapped her.

  Regret at my angry, hateful words blooms inside me almost instantly, battling with the frustration I feel at her for opening the touchy subject.

  “Si …”

  “Save it.” She pushes her chair angrily away from the table. Metal scraping loudly against the floor. “You are one fucking prick, Shelton.”

  Sienna takes the cap from the table she left it at and turns on her heels.

  Her strides are long and hurried helping her reach the door in only a few steps. But I have the advantage of height and determination on my side.

  My fingers wrap around her wrist as she reaches the door, and I pull her so that she faces me.

  Amber eyes are narrowed in tight slits, and she’s staring daggers at me.

  “Don’t make me cause a scene, Shelton.” Her voice is low.

  Dangerously so.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my free hand going through my short hair. “It’s a touchy subject for me.”

  Sienna shakes her head at me with disappointment. She tugs her hand out of mine and her fingers clench into fists by her side. “Really classy, Shelton. Really classy.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Not only do you treat me like shit …”

  “I said I was sorry!” The frustration that overwhelms me makes my voice rise while hers lowers with every word she says.

  Ignoring me completely, she continues. She lifts her finger and pushes it into my chest. “But you are also ashamed of your sister. The same girl that came countless times to dance class in the last couple of months and couldn’t stop talking about her big brother!”

  My heart grits in my chest painfully.

  “How he’s amazing and smart and talented and handsome. How he’s her hero because he came and saved her. Her own prince charming. And you tell me she’s a ‘touchy subject’? I knew you could be an ass, Shelton, but this is low even for you.”

  Sienna’s words make me stop breathing. Something in me breaks, and I can’t move or say anything.

  She talks about me. Grace talks about me and thinks I’m a hero.

  Sienna looks at me with anger on my sister’s behalf, but there is also something else. Something else I can see but can’t decipher.

  With one final shake of her head, she turns her back to me and walks away.

  I watch her as she goes to my sister and says goodbye. Grace hugs her and then watches her go. Even steps soon become hurried until they transform into a full-on run.

  Sienna is running away.

  Running away from me.

  I let my head fall and hit the closed door.

  “Fuuuuck.”

  “You and J.D. seemed like you knew each other the other day.” Grace’s voice is casual. She doesn’t even look at me. Green eyes are focused and there is a thin layer of sweat covering her forehead as she bends forward.

  Her right hand is holding the barre and her left leg extends forward. The tips of her toes touch the floor as her upper body bends at her waist to reach them.

  “The other leg,” I instruct her, looking for any mistake in her form. There is none.

  Grace is getting better.

  There is more grace in her stance then at the beginning. As funny as that sounds—Grace has grace.

  She is smart and a quick learner. I don’t doubt that if she had started at a younger age she could be one hell of a dancer. Now, well, she’ll never be able to do it professionally, but I see the love she has for dance, and I’m sure she’ll keep on doing it for fun.

  Some things in life are better off that way. You can enjoy them, and they won’t get sullied by the reality of life. The expectations will never be too high or unachievable.

  “Sienna?” Grace does what I say. She’s still focused on what she’s doing, but I can hear the question in her voice.

  “We’ve seen each other a few times,” I sigh.

  Fucked each other, is a better response, but that isn’t something you say to a twelve-year-old.

  “Why didn�
��t you say something?”

  I laugh at her question, but it’s cold, almost hostile. “We aren’t really friends, Grace.”

  “You are not?” Brows furrow on her forehead.

  Is it in concentration or is it the words I said?

  “No, we are not.”

  “Huh, you did a very good job of faking it then.”

  Her right leg is extended behind her and she bends backward. She can do maybe a half of the motions because her muscles aren’t flexible enough, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.

  I watch her repeat the movement a couple of times before standing behind her, putting my own hand on the barre and starting to practice.

  Dancing calms me.

  It gives me peace.

  Some would say it’s the music, but I beg to differ.

  Yeah, classical music can be calming, but it also has the power to rip your soul out of your chest. Listen to Beethoven’s “5th Symphony”, Chopin’s “Fantasie Improptu” or Mozart’s “Lacrimosa”. They are filled with emotion. All the good, bad, and painful. You can feel the notes in your bones.

  So, no.

  The calmness doesn’t come from the music. It’s in routine, in practice, in the way you breathe and rush of the blood in your veins.

  I remember when I was younger I would wake up early and go with Mom to the studio. She would put on some music and start to dance.

  It was mesmerizing watching her move.

  Sometimes I believed she glided in the air, like an angel as she danced. She was so perfect and graceful it was hard to remove my eyes from her. But somehow, in the end, I always did. I would join her, trying to copy her movements although I knew deep down inside I’d never be as good as she is. There was no way I could ever reach that level of perfection and beauty. Still, I couldn’t resist the pull of music and magic that was happening around me.

  Even if only for a few seconds I wanted to be a part of that world. A part of the magic my mom created while she danced.

  Now I’m older and I know Mom isn’t an angel and that real magic didn’t exist. Yet, when I close my eyes and let my body move in the way I’ve known, even before I took my first real steps as a baby, I let myself believe I can create my own kind of magic.