by Lila Felix
Just checking on you. Call if you need me.
Ali taught me how to reply and I did with a message telling him that I’d be home soon.
“Give it to me,” she reached for my phone and plugged in her number and her mom’s number and the house number.
I got up to leave and we hugged; it felt like nothing had changed with us.
Walking home, my new home, so close to my old home, I felt the pull to go check on her, but barely resisted. Because I didn’t know if I was strong enough to tell her no or release myself from the pull of her need again. I stopped at the bakery to pick up a bowl of soup, fresh bread and carrot cake for Cal.
Opening the door to our apartment, I closed the door quietly, taking the opportunity to see a still half-awake Cal, standing in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee—in his sleep shorts.
“Hungry?” It felt good to be on the other side of that question. He always worried about my food intake.
He turned with a smile, “That’s my job.”
“What is?”
“Feeding you.”
“I thought I’d take care of you for once.”
That must’ve been the right answer because he put his coffee down and stalked towards me like a man on a mission. Picking me up like I weighed nothing and propped me up on the table. He stepped between my knees and cupped my face in his hands.
“Hav, you don’t know how you’ve changed my life. I was a zombie, a breathing, barely functioning shell of a man with nothing to give anyone. It feels like a gift to be able to help you, especially you. You’re so damned strong on your own. I know it’s a consolation when you accept things from me. And I’m happy anytime you let me give anything of me to you.”
Tapping a finger on the metal of my lip ring, he moved closer. The clink of his fingernail on the silver was almost a knock on the door of my heart.
“Havok?” He inquired about the look on my face.
“I was just thinking that I haven’t kissed a boy since the sixth grade, but it was only on the cheek.”
He moved that same chunk of hair from my face, “And why were you thinking about that?”
“You know why.”
He chuckled and I hadn’t realized that my hands were planted on his chest until I felt the rumble beneath my fingers, “I do know. But I need to hear you say it. I know you won’t tell me about your mom or whatever. But this is you and me. I need to know that you trust me with us, even if you don’t trust me with anything else. I want us to be completely open and honest in this. If you want something—make it clear. I’m done with your guessing games.”
I’d never heard him demand anything of me. And God help me, I loved it. I feathered touches along his chest, mostly wasting time but also loving the feel of his bare chest.
“I want you to kiss me.”
His smile was my reward, “Why?”
“You’re gonna make this so hard, aren’t you?”
He scoffed at me, his bright eyes mischievous, “Like you don’t make everything difficult on me. I’ve been fighting just to keep my head above water with you all this time. Indulge me just a little.”
He took my hands, which I’d retracted, and put them back on his chest with his on top of mine.
“Come on Havok, relent to me, just a tiny bit. Why do you want me to kiss you?”
Now I was really aggravated but completely curious to see what would happen next.
“I want you to kiss me because—because I’ve needed to know what you taste like since I saw you staring at me in front of the bakery.”
“That’s my girl.”
He leaned down, I could feel the warmth between us turn my insides to fire as he got closer. His fingers were now in the back of my hair, his palms somehow gently massaging my neck. My legs spread wider, allowing him space to get closer. When he was a breath away, his lips so close I could move an inch and finally get the taste I needed, “I’ve got to get to work.” He smiled and bolted towards his room.
“You are so aggravating!” I screamed in his direction.
“Welcome to my world, sweetheart!” He yelled back before shutting the door to his room.
Cal came out later, dressed like a college radio DJ sporting a Fitz and the Tantrums t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. He sat next to me on the couch and gobbled down his food.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes. I stopped there on the way to Ali’s.”
“Are you two ok?”
“Yes, we’re good.”
“I’m glad. I know she is important to you,” he glanced at his watch, “I need to leave. I hope they approve my day shift. I’m tired of this, especially when I know you’re home alone. We could be spending that time together.”
I blew a frustrated sigh through my nose, “Not kissing.”
He stifled a smile, “Not kissing—yet.”
I crossed my arms and attempted to be alluring. I probably sucked at it, “Just remember tomorrow night you’re mine.”
He smiled, got up and leaned over to put his mouth next to my ear, “That’s where you’re mistaken, Havok. I’ve been yours all this time.” He planted a quick kiss to my forehead, grabbed his backpack, threw his headphones on, winked at me once and then left.
I cleaned up despite Cal’s explicit instructions not to and settled into my pajamas. I couldn’t sleep, laying in that bed—it was almost too much comfort. Grabbing my new phone and throwing on some flip flops, I took to the streets, the concrete more of a home to me than any comfortable bed. I missed Cal when he was at work. But lately, not having anyone to really spill my guts to gnawed at me. I was stupid for walking the streets alone, but sometimes they felt more home to me than any house.
I stopped on the street and took the phone Cal gave me out of my pocket and just stared at it. Calling Fade from this phone felt like cheating even though it wasn’t like that with Fade. He was a friend who I could tell anything to without seeing the concern or distress on his face—an invisible conscience clearer. But as I dialed the number to the station, the only one I remembered, it felt like betrayal. I still hadn’t told Cal anything about my past even though he’d changed his life to fit me in it. But the need to vent was still there.
And as the deep voiced friend answered the phone, my stomach turned to the tune of guilt.
I hadn’t actually tried to plan a nice date with a girl in a long time. But here I was, sitting outside of the booth, waiting for the hippie to finish his show—and planning on how to impress a girl who was so independent. But I was up for the challenge.
The show went as usual, except this time of year, as it always did, the show was bombarded with callers who were upset about the end of the school year. Guys and girls alike were breaking up with their steadies because they were avoiding long distance relationships or just wanted to go to college single. Usually there was at least one caller a year who thought they were graduating and then found out last minute they didn’t qualify. As if there weren’t guidance counselors and college advisors who hadn’t already warned them. My sister Camille was one of those guidance counselors and I knew she warned incoming Seniors if they were in a deficit in credits to graduate. So, I had a hard time feeling sorry for them.
The show ended and I played some Lorde to get the night off to a good start. I’d gotten into a groove, choosing music based on what I thought Havok would like. I picked several CDs from the stacks and when I sat down I saw my personal line into the station lighting up. There was only one person who had my direct line. And for once, I hesitated. Over the past weeks I’d gotten so close to Jocelyn, listening to her problems, trying to help her work through them, searching for her. I’d even sacrificed time with Havok to try to search for her in every payphone I passed. It seemed I had wasted time finding Jocelyn, worried about someone who obviously just needed an ear, when I could’ve spent my time seeking Havok. Gaining her trust, making her—no, helping her to fall in love with me the way I thought I was with her. But I couldn’t be. I only knew the out
side shallows of her. But Jocelyn, I knew all of her baggage but didn’t know the girl at all.
I couldn’t resist the tug I felt, the need for that emotional connection I had to Jocelyn that I didn’t know if I’d ever have with Havok—I didn’t know if she’d ever let us get that close.
I cleared my throat and claimed the voice of Fade, “Hello, the Edge.”
“Fade, it’s Jocelyn.”
She didn’t sound the same. She was whispering, but there was no cackle of the payphone connection.
“Hi Jocelyn. Long time no hear.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. I moved out of my mom’s place. One of my friends let me live with him.”
I couldn’t deny the twist of jealousy that coursed through me. I had no place being jealous of someone I didn’t even know.
“Him?”
“Yeah, his name is Cal. He’s been my friend for a while. I just called to tell you that I was ok now. Thanks for everything. I thought maybe I wanted to talk to you. But I think it’s time to move on.”
“Havok,” I yelled into the phone but the line was dead.
The phone slipped from my grasp, the sweat on my palm making it slick. I looked down at myself and noticed the other reason for almost dropping the receiver. I was shaking like a damned meth addict. I hung up without even bothering to say goodbye, there was no use—I was going to see her when I got off work. My first reaction was anger. The anger wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, it just festered there in the cavity of my chest. And hurt. It hurt to think that Havok, Jocelyn, whatever in the hell her name was—they were the same person. She could call a perfect stranger and completely tell him, me, her life story, everything she was scared of, everything she’d been through, the hell her mother made her endure, the pain she wished she could feel. She’d given that privilege to a voice over the phone but wouldn’t share it with me. That was the real shot through my heart. I’d given her everything I had and she couldn’t give me just an ounce of her. But my alter ego, a voice, a fake voice at that, over a phone line could have her all?
I went to the other side of the glass, the music of happiness still playing in the background and checked the box that kept record of the callers. And there it was, the proof I needed. On the screen was my name and the number to the cell I’d given her.
Another needle in my heart, her pincushion.
I went back to my seat and stared at the phone until the throbbing of my heart slowed. She’d given Fade the bigger gift. He knew the workings of her heart. He knew the change in her voice when she was really in pain over something her mother did. And Ali, how had I not made the connection before? How many people in the world are named Ali?
I was such a fool.
And just as guilty.
Hadn’t I been the one who began the relationship built on mutual distrust? After all, it would’ve been so easy to introduce myself as Fade, tell her where I really worked, tell her what I really did.
Was Havok her name or was it Jocelyn?
What twisted illusion had we drawn ourselves in? Both of us, not one more innocent than the other, built a relationship based on lies, deceit and imaginary people. And I was stupid enough to think I was actually falling in love with her? But who was it that I loved? Did I love Havok or Jocelyn? Could I even differentiate them if I knew?
The playlist for the rest of the night took a turn for the depressing. And for the life of me, I couldn’t decide what to do. Did I go home in the morning and confront her with everything, threatening to lose her in the process?
No, Fade, you’re much smarter than that. The only way to get to the bottom of lies is to begin to tell the truth. I decided, listening to the last song of the night, My Broken Heart, watching the day crew scatter around that I would be the first to move. I would be the first to filter out the truth of who I was in increments she could deal with, hoping she would reciprocate.
Because the last thing I ever—ever wanted to do was drive her away. If anything, merging Jocelyn and Havok together in my head, made my heart ache to heal her. But I knew her better than that. Hell, now I was almost happy. Havok wasn’t a shell to me at all anymore. She was whole, the facets of her—I knew all of them thanks to Jocelyn.
I traipsed home, my feet sliding on the sidewalk, carrying the burden of my knowledge. Opening the door, I straightened up. If I wanted her, I had to do this right. And I did. I wanted Havok now more than ever.
I’d made it home later than I’d planned to. Havok had left me a note telling me she’d made pancakes—and she was excited about our date. Our date—it was too soon, but postponing or cancelling would throw her off. Plus, I promised. Havok and Jocelyn had enough of people breaking their promises to her and I’d be damned if I was one of them.
I went to bed, rehashing my plans for the night. She deserved my all—I knew it then more than ever.
The alarm went off at three p.m. I went to her room and dug just enough to get her size from the shorts Ali so graciously had made her wear. A size zero? I didn’t know there was a size zero. But if anyone would fit it, her skinny self would. I also took note of the size of her shoes. I threw on some clothes and went shopping. I had to have the lady at the department store show me around, helping me buy five dresses that I thought would suit her, all in a size zero, some in a size two since not all of them came in that small of a size. She also helped me buy shoes to match everything. I called and made reservations at a restaurant that was middle of the road, not too dressy but not too casual either. I stopped and picked up a cake, complete with ‘Congratulations Havok’ scrawled on the top. I still made it home before her somehow. I showered, got dressed in a gray button down shirt and black dress pants. I snuck out into the living room to see if she was home. She stood in front of the couch, where I’d laid out the dresses and shoes in silence.
“Havok? What’s wrong? If you don’t like them I can return them. You don’t have to wear any of them. I just…”
She held up a hand, shutting me up in place. “When?”
“Today. I woke up early.”
“Where?”
“At the mall.”
“How?”
My nerves changed the charge of my voice, “I looked in your room. Got your dress size and your shoe size.”
And then she turned to me, tears streaming down her precious face, “Why?”
Hundreds of questions were fluttering through my mind. I could only verbalize about two percent of them and one word questions at that. I sounded like a newspaper journalist, all the questions answered in the first paragraph. I was completely freaking out because of dresses—dresses! I looked back at him after berating myself for coming undone and saw why a dress was necessary.
Because he looked like a million dollars.
He looked like someone who was going out on a date—with someone, anyone but me. I looked back to the dresses and continued my wiggage internally. Three black, one white and two red—red, the color of a harlot’s daughter, how convenient. And the shoes, one pair in particular reminded me of the stacks and stacks of stilettos.
In the middle of the onslaught of a meltdown, I was instantly cooled by a pair of warm arms encasing my waist. His chin rested on my shoulder, “Don’t analyze it to death, Havok. It’s just dresses. They won’t bite you. Hell, you don’t even have to wear them. You can go in your pajamas for all I care. I just thought it was a celebration, so why not. The lady at the store picked everything out for me. But I know how you feel about red, so you don’t have to even look at those if you don’t want to.”
I stood stagnant while I processed what he said. I didn’t think I’d ever told him about my aversion to red. I was almost positive that I’d only told that to Fade. Then again, lately my conversations with Fade and Cal were merging in my head, so I mentally shrugged it off.
“I guess I should just say thank you. I’m just kinda in shock. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”
He turned his head towards me and his next words wer
e spoken with his lips touching my earlobe. “Just wait, I’ve got more surprises. So pick one. I’m anxious to see which one you’ll pick.”
The black one with a V neckline looked the least intimidating. “I like that one,” I pointed to it with a shaky finger.
“I knew it. I’ve got to go pick a few things up. Why don’t you get dressed and by the time I get back, it will be time to go. But first I need to ask you a question.”
“Yes,” How in the hell he expected me to answer a question cohesively with his mouth on my ear was beyond me.
“Tonight. Is this gonna be your first date?”
The red of those dresses had nothing on the crimson blossoming across my face.
“Do sixth grade trips to the movies count?”
“Nope.”
“Then yes, it is. Does that change your mind?”
“Not at all. I’m honored. I have to go. Get dressed.”
He left me standing there before I could reply.
I picked up the dress, hanging on only to the question mark at the top like it was cursed with the plague and dragged it to the bathroom, hanging it on the back of the door. I grabbed some essentials from my room and showered, using the hot water and confines of the shower stall as a confessional. Letting all my fears and concerns out and hoped the water didn’t whisper in Cal’s ear the next time he showered.
I ran a brush through my hair but it was so straight that it never would do anything worthy of the dress that hung next to me. I owned no jewelry. So it was me and the dress. The only thing I had to go with it was mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss. It would have to do.
I went into the living room, my fine hair already most of the way dry, wearing the dress, continually trying to smooth it to a longer length. I sat at his dining room table and fumbled with the shoes.
Why in the hell did they make these things so hard to put on?
Of course, Cal stumbled in the peak of my struggle. Every time I saw him I got a little more tangled in something that resembled adoration. I couldn’t call it love—I didn’t know what love was.
“Can I help?”