by Monica Rossi
She heard him enter the room behind her but didn’t turn. The light in the blonde woman’s eyes had captured her. It was a look she wasn’t sure she’d even had before. It was love and happiness and contentment. A combination that might have always eluded her, and would likely continue to do so.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she admitted, “ She’s so beautiful and her happiness is almost leaking out of the canvas.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted.”
Something in his voice, a hitch maybe, made her turn to him. He was looking away from the canvas. “Is it a friend of yours?”
He looked back at her, not looking at the canvas once, “That was my wife and son.”
Was. What a horrible word. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to pry, but she was curious.
“It’s ok, they were killed in an accident four years ago. I keep that painting there but sometimes it’s hard to look at.”
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.” She understood how it felt to be suddenly overwhelmed with loss.
He shook his head, “Don’t be, she was beautiful and they were happy and I’m glad I got to capture them that way.”
She nodded, unsure about what to say. She always hated it when someone tried to commiserate with her, if she heard one more person say, ‘I know how you feel’ she might go crazy.
“I lost my sister just recently. My twin sister,” she said. It wasn’t the same as losing a wife and child, but she could understand loss.
His eyes softened, turning that bright green into velvet and sending a trill down Melissa’s back, “That must be hard. Were you close?”
“Very, we did everything together,” she finished quietly. She felt the tears rising in her throat and tried to choke them back, swallowing hard. His hand reached out and touched her shoulder and before she knew it she was in his arms, sobbing for her lost sister.
He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair and her back as the pain wracked her body. Minutes passed and slowly she calmed down and became more aware of his arms around her. It felt good to be held, to be touched, it had been so long since she’d let anyone touch her. Her hand came up between them, touching the taunt golden skin of his belly, and warmth flooded her. Her intentions had been to push away from him and break the contact, but the feel of the smooth velvet of him stirred something in her. She tilted her head up, his lips were full and firm and she wanted to feel them on hers, her eyes caught his and she could see that he was feeling the same thing she was. Their breath mingled as they stood there on the precipice for what seemed like forever, anticipation and hunger blended together inside her making her pulse beat faster with each second. Almost against her will, and definitely against her current nature, she leaned forward, pressing her body closer to his, standing on her toes to reach the lips she was hungry for.
And he stepped away from her and cleared his throat. Melissa felt the loss of his body, of his heat, of the kiss that they hadn’t shared as an almost physical blow. Her hands fell to her sides.
“So, uh, I guess we should get started,” he made a show of tidying up the space, gathering his supplies and moving a chair into the sunlight. “If you want to sit here,” he pointed to the chair he’d just moved, “I think the light would be perfect.”
She complied without a word, mulling over what had just happened.
It was the first time she’d actually felt something since Felicia had died. The first time something had broken through the numbness and moved her. She watched him making quick strokes on his page, eyes darting between her and the work he was doing. What was it about him that had affected her? Yes, he was attractive, but he wasn’t the first attractive guy she’d met since her sister had died, and some of them had even taken an interest in her. The only interest he seemed to have at the moment was drawing her. Yes he had seemed to want to kiss her too, but he had stepped away from her before anything had happened. Maybe it was just a physical reaction to the situation, not to her.
She wasn’t sure what to do, she’d have to think about it. Did she even want to feel things again? Was it a momentary fluke that just happened because she had been in such an emotional state, a state she normally didn’t let people see her in? It wasn’t something she could control that well though, the pang of loss hit her at odd times. She’d see a commercial on TV that Felicia had laughed at and she’d end up crying on the couch. Or she’d see a food in the grocery store that had been a favorite of her sister’s and she’d have to leave her cart in the aisle and find a bathroom before the sobs choked her in front of everyone. The best thing she had done was to remove herself from her normal life so that she wouldn’t have to inflict that on everyone around her. And so that seeing everyone in her normal life didn’t feel so empty without Felicia.
But it had felt nice. Being held, being comforted. Even without the side effect of feeling attracted to him, it had been nice.
“I’m, sorry for crying all over you,” Melissa said.
He startled and she realized it had been a long time since either of them had said anything. “Hey, don’t worry about it, I know how it is.”
He probably did, but she still wasn’t comfortable with it. “I try not to get so emotional around other people, that’s kind of why I’m in Charleston and not at home.”
“Oh you’re not going to school here?”
“No, I have a friend who is, she actually doesn’t live very far from here, but I just decided I’d come because… this was Felicia’s favorite place.”
“Felicia was your sister?”
“Yes,” she looked down at her hands, she hadn’t said her name in a long time.
“Well at least you have a friend here to keep you busy and your mind occupied, that’s good. You don’t want to dwell alone too much when you’re going through something like this.”
Melissa didn’t respond. Her friend, Tracey, didn’t even know she was in Charleston. She’d come here to get away from everyone, not to hang out with friends.
Owen stared at her, “You haven’t been seeing your friend have you?”
“Not really, I just don’t feel like being around other people yet. Especially people we knew together, which is everyone. It just hurts too much to be around them without her. Every time they say something funny or tell me some news about another friend I keep imagining how Felicia would respond. How she would have laughed or been shocked. It’s too much.”
Owen nodded, “I can see that. It was different for me. I had my own family and friends who weren’t connected to Lindsey. Even so, it felt like everything was a constant reminder of her and Parker, he was my son.”
“Can I ask what kind of accident they had?” she asked, adding quickly, “If that’s too personal, I totally understand.”
“No, I can talk about it now. She had taken Parker to a birthday party for a friend on a Friday afternoon, over in Mount Pleasant. The moms all hung around and talked a little after the party and it was about nine o’clock when they were coming home. Still early, you wouldn’t think there would be any drunks out at 9 o’clock. He hit them doing seventy five miles an hour and drove her off the road and into a concrete wall. It was instant for both of them. At least they didn’t weren’t in pain.”
“Oh my god, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, “Yeah, it was sudden and it hurt. It still hurts, but it’s not as raw as it used to be.”
“What happened to the guy? The drunk driver?”
“He, of course, walked away with only a broken arm and a few scratches.”
Melissa was angry on his behalf, “I hope he’s at least in jail now.”
“He is, but I don’t wish him any harm and when he’s up for parole I won’t go try to stop it.”
“Why in God’s name not? He deserves to be punished.”
“I saw him at his trial and he’s written me a stack of letters, all begging me to forgive him. The man can hardly stand to live with himself. C
an you imagine living with that on your conscious? Taking the life of a young mother and her child? I couldn’t, that would be more than I could handle.”
“You’re a bigger person than I am,” she said.
“Not really, I’ve just spent a really long time thinking about it. I could stay angry with him, and sometimes that feeling still surges up unexpectedly, the man took away everything I was living for, but it takes a lot more effort to hate than it does to forgive.”
She wished she could be that forgiving, that understanding, but if her sister’s killer had a name she was sure her every waking thought would be how much she hated him.
“What about your sister, do you mind talking about what happened to her?”
Melissa swallowed hard, this wasn’t something she talked about, “It was leukemia. She was stage four when she was diagnosed and there wasn’t much that could be done. She refused treatment and since we were over eighteen our parents couldn’t force her. She was gone three months after the first time we heard the word ‘leukemia’.”
It still made her angry thinking about it. Why hadn’t she fought? Why hadn’t she valued her life enough to at least try to beat the odds? Instead she had just lain there, waiting for the end to come without trying to postpone it at least. As far as Melissa was concerned she’d chosen to die, it was just as bad as suicide if you didn’t even attempt to save yourself.
“That’s rough,” Owen had stopped drawing and was just looking at her now. She hoped the anger didn’t show. That was something she’d never told anyone. She was mad as hell at her sister for leaving her.
“I’m dealing,” and she was to an extent. Or at least she was existing, which was more than she felt like doing most days.
“Are you really? Or are you running away from life?”
Anger quickly flared. Jesus, who was he to judge how she dealt with grief. Sure he’d lost someone but that didn’t mean she had to bounce back like he had, everyone had heal in their own way. And she’d just wanted to heal alone. She got up, this was why she didn’t interact with people, they always wanted to help, always wanted to give advice. She didn’t need it, what she needed was her sister. “Thank you for drawing me,” she said as she walked towards the door to the studio.
“Wait, don’t get angry,” he hurried behind her and caught her arm. “I didn’t mean to offend you or pry into your business. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner?”
“I don’t think so, I’m not really in the mood.”
“Ok, well maybe tomorrow night. Nothing special, just a sub and a beer – you are 21 aren’t you?”
She shook her head, “Twenty.”
“Well a sub then at the Kickin’ Chicken, or a burrito at Mama Juanita’s. Or even a slice of cake at Kaminsky’s.”
Those names brought back memories of days and nights spent roaming downtown. She hadn’t had anything from Kaminski’s in… years. Maybe she should go, it’d be nice to hang out on King Street or in the market again. It might also be nice for him to touch her again. His hand was warm on her arm and even though there was nothing sexual about the touch, she felt the energy between them radiating through her body.
She hesitated and then said, “Ok.”
“Alright, do you want me to pick you up or are you going to meet me here and we can walk?”
“No sense in you coming all the way out to Folly. I’ll meet you here, around six?”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” he smiled and his face transformed, white teeth and dimples flashing, he went from being attractive to drop dead gorgeous. Melissa inhaled, a little taken aback by how much a smile could affect her.
She walked out of his house and back onto Coming Street wondering if she was biting off more than she could chew. Never before had a man’s simple smile left her with pangs of wanting deep inside herself. She jotted the number down off his sign outside, that way she could call and cancel if she found she just couldn’t do it.
What had he been thinking? Clearly the girl was too young for him. Eight years might not be a big difference in the long run but when she was just twenty it seemed like a big deal. If he’d met her when she was 25 and he was 33 it wouldn’t be a problem. But she wasn’t even old enough to drink.
He knew what he was thinking. She was beautiful and lost and alone and there was always something about sad beautiful creatures that drew him in like a hummingbird to nectar. Lonely, that’s what it was that drew him. Because he knew so well how it felt. He knew loneliness and grief inside and out and it was plain to him that she was wallowing in both.
But she was just too young for him to pursue as anything other than a friend. He’d felt the spark between them when he’d been holding her and again when he’d touched her arm. It was the first time he’d felt it since his wife died, he hadn’t even been sure he was capable of feeling that jump of electricity between two people again. God, he wished he could let go and just see where it took him, but for her sake he had to hold himself back.
She was young, yes, but she was also vulnerable. She didn’t need a grown man taking advantage of her while she was still recovering from such an emotionally fragile state.
He’d help her, make her laugh, get her moving in the right direction but that’s all he could do. Then she’d go home and live a normal life again. Sure there would always be pain, but she’d be able to breathe again.
The memory of the time right after he’d lost Lindsey and Parker was a blur. He’d been so… brittle that the least little thing would have broken him. But he was lucky, he had a close knit family that had held him together when he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. His brother, Braden, had been a lifesaver and a guardian angel, all rolled into a smirking smartass that was finally able to make him laugh again.
It had been hard and it hadn’t stopped hurting but he’d gotten through it, with help, and that’s what he’d give to Melissa. Comfort, friendship, understanding, and that was it.
No matter how wild that overfull upper lip drove him in the process. God, she had a mouth like Liv Tyler that just begged a man to kiss it. But he wasn’t going to.
He picked up the sketch he’d finished of her. Her hair was a little wild, blown around in the wind before she’d gotten there and she hadn’t bothered to smooth it down. He was glad, it gave her a hint of abandon within. He studied her face, it was utterly captivating. With huge eyes shining out of such a delicate bone structure, they dominated her face and spoke of both sadness and longing (which he might have imagined there given the fact that he was still feeling it after their embrace), and with the soft gentle curves of her cheeks and chin, she managed to look like a lost fairy waiting to find her way back home.
Intentionally he’d just concentrated on her face, the way he was feeling he hadn’t chanced studying the rest of her too closely. He might have lost control and pounced on her while she sat in front of the window.
Walking upstairs to the apartment he lived in above his studio and to change clothes, he wondered if being a good Samaritan was actually beneficial to the soul. Because it didn’t feel like it. Starting the day with her while being half naked had probably not been the smartest move either, but he hadn’t known she was coming over. Next time he was definitely going to wear clothes. That might help.
Owen grabbed his phone and punched in a number.
“Hey Shithead, what’s up,” his brother answered.
“Just wondering if you might feel like hitting the beach for a while?”
“Unlike you with your sensitive artsy fartsy job, I actually have to work. I can’t leave the office at two o’clock in the afternoon and go play with you at the beach.”
Owen rolled his eyes, “Yes you can, get your ass in gear and meet me in an hour.”
“No really, I’ve got a ton of stuff to do today, I can’t just leave.”
“Braden, we own the company, make someone else do it.”
He heard his brother pause for a moment, “Good point, I’ll see you in an hour.
– Oh and Owen, this time you’re actually going to surf a little right? Because I don’t feel like taking off work to watch you build sandcastles like a little girl.”
“One time! I build a sand sculpture one damn time and you give me shit for the rest of my life.”
“That’s what little brothers are for homie. Peace out.”
Owen shook his head at the phone. Braden was his rock, his solid place to fall, but he was also a giant douchebag.
What he’d done to deserve him he wasn’t sure. He thought back to all the nights Braden had stayed by his side while he drank his sorrow away and the tears threatened to drown him. He didn’t know what it was he’d done to deserve him, but it must have been something good.
A mountain of clothing was forming on her bed. She hadn’t been so indecisive about what to wear since she was a preteen. Maybe she shouldn’t even care, maybe she should just call him up and tell him she wasn’t feeling well.
That was true. She felt sick to her stomach. It had been over a year since she’d even been on a date, much less with a man who could make butterflies appear in her stomach with just one heart stopping smile.