Stir Me Up

by Sabrina Elkins

  “I don’t know. Fly out to a tropical island somewhere and just be alone with you?”

  “That would be nice. Turn onto your stomach for me.”

  I do as he says. It’s a rough job getting a massage from a Marine, but someone’s got to do it. “I feel like my future’s this giant killer blob, you know? I just want to outrun it. ‘What do you want to do with your life? What do you want to do with your life?’”

  “You’ll need to figure it out eventually.” His tone is gentle.

  “I don’t know what I want. Dad seems to, though, so...”

  “No,” Julian says. He turns me so I’m facing him. “You can’t let him take over. You have to figure it out yourself and then go after it. Not let anyone talk you out of it.”

  I take hold of his hand. “When I said I just wanted to be with you, I wasn’t kidding.”

  “Just because you make plans for next year doesn’t mean our relationship has to end,” he says. “We’ll still be together.”

  “What if I decide to attend the University of Antarctica?”

  He smiles. “I’ll buy a down parka and season tickets on an icebreaker.”

  “That’d be cheap.”

  “So what? It’s no problem.”

  Huh? “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I get money for my father, and my mother had an enormous amount of life insurance.”

  “So much for the poor orphan.”

  “I never said I was poor. And I’m not an orphan. I have Estella and Brandon.”

  “True.” I reach up inside his shirt, find his scars and trace them with my fingers.

  “Do you know what I want?” he says.

  “What?”

  “I want you to dream big. Go for something crazy and wonderful.”

  “You mean other than you?”

  His face turns serious. “I don’t want you limiting your options for me. I’ll be with you no matter what you do or where you go.”

  “You’re worried about this?”

  “I think you’re right about your dad micromanaging you. I just want you to do whatever you genuinely want. And I’m not going to influence it. I don’t want to even know about it until it’s set and done.”

  “Trying to get rid of me already?”

  “No, I’m trying to not hold you back. This is the biggest turning point probably in your whole life. I want you to think about what’s good for you.” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “And just go for it.”

  “Okay, I’ll go for something wild and crazy out in left field and then I’ll send up a big flare and let you come riding in to find me.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Only you be sure to follow your dream, too.” I think about this now that I’ve said it—each of us making our own plans without telling each other. It sounds awful, actually. “I’ll figure out what I want. And you do the same. And don’t let me influence your choice. At all.” Okay, wait. How will this work?

  He kisses me.

  I frown. “I’ll never see you.”

  “You’ll see me.”

  “When? When you’re on leave?” I ask.

  He touches my chin. “I’m considering several options. Reenlisting is only one of them.”

  “Does Estella know what you’re planning?”

  “We should probably leave her out of this.”

  “Okay. So, we each pursue what we want independently after I graduate?”

  “Yes. And we keep it secret from each other,” he says. “For now. So nothing holds either of us back.”

  “Fine,” I pout. “Sure. Very logical.”

  His hand runs over me. “Don’t worry. I won’t be able to stay away from all this incredible hot sexiness for long.”

  “Good.”

  He starts kissing me, but then his prosthesis hits my ankle.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Would you mind removing it?”

  “You can do it,” he says. Nervously.

  I look carefully at him. “Are you sure?”

  He nods, and I go and pull down the outer silicone sleeve and then remove the fake limb itself. The cotton liner is still on him.

  “Leave that,” he says.

  “Hmm? What was that?” I take it off as well.

  His residual leg is not the size of a normal man’s knee and thigh—the thigh itself seems more compact and is scarred not only at the end where there is a big surgical scar after the knee, but all over, like he’s suffered serious burns. Julian is completely freaked about me seeing this. The worry is all over his face—in the clenched set of his jaw, the furrow of his brow; his body is like a wall of tension.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, as gently as I can.

  He shakes his head no.

  “Okay.” I touch this new part of him. “Can you feel my hand?”

  He nods stiffly.

  “Does it still cause you pain?”

  “Not as much anymore.”

  “Do you still have phantom pain?”

  “Less now.” His eyes are still worried, his body still tense. “I still dream I’m on two legs.”

  I gaze up at him, a little surprised by this. “You do?”

  “Um-hmm. I dream I’m still over there and never left. I dream of rock climbing and running and having sex with you on two good legs—in all different positions.”

  I smile and caress his thighs, first one, then the other.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he says.

  “I want to.”

  “You can stop.”

  I don’t stop. I mean, of course it’s not pleasant to look at, but everyone else in that truck with Julian is dead. If he’d been struck in the torso, or even possibly in the upper thigh instead of the calf... I trace the amputation site with my fingers. “Does the scar cause you pain?”

  “No.”

  “It must be painful. It must hurt.”

  “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

  “You can’t do anything dangerous again. Ever.”

  “No more snowmobiles?” he says.

  “How many surgeries have you had?” I ask, too worried to tease him back.

  “Dozens.”

  Jesus. I cradle his half leg, kiss it, rest my cheek against it and then cover it with kisses. When I look up at Julian, his eyes are wet. “Hero,” I tell him.

  He looks away from me. “No.”

  “Yes, Julian. You are.”

  “Don’t try to make it this great and noble thing.”

  I climb over him, onto his lap. “Look at me.”

  He shakes his head no—and winces slightly.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Am I too heavy?”

  “No, I’m just...”

  “What?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I run my fingers through his hair, kiss his face. His arms come around me and he lets out a heavy sigh. “You feel nice.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mmm. Too bad Estella will be home soon.”

  “Let’s just shut your door,” I say, noticing I left it open.

  Now he looks at me. “She’d go nuts.”

  “So? I’ll make her into brittle.”

  He doesn’t smile.

  “She knows anyway, doesn’t she?” I point out.

  He tilts his head and moves his hands up higher on me, so I’ll bend and kiss him. I do.

  “We’ll start a war,” he says.

  “Probably. Why, you chicken?”

  There’s the smile. Hmm, welcome back.

  “Okay,” he says. “Let’s shut it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The person. Who comes home. And knocks on the door. And opens it. While Julian and I are in bed together. Is not Estella.

  It’s my father.

  The nightmare starts like this:

  Kiss kiss kiss

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

  One microsecond later, Dad’s voice: “Julian, have you seen...”

  Dad s
ees me. In bed. With Julian.

  World stops spinning on its axis.

  Julian shields me so much I’m basically smothered.

  Dad walks stonily out the door.

  * * *

  I grip Julian once he leaves and the door shuts and have what must amount to heart failure. “Oh my God.”

  “Shhh.”

  “I thought he went to work!”

  “Cami, we’re both adults. You’ll be eighteen in just a few days.”

  “What do I do? Do I go out there? I can’t. I can’t go out there.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “You can’t. He may kill you.”

  “I’m able to defend myself. Don’t worry.”

  “No, I mean like, really. He has knives. He...you don’t think he’d hurt you, do you?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “He’ll make you move out. He’ll throw me out.” I start to cry. “He’ll hate me.”

  “What?”

  “This is like one of those moments where the kid comes out of the closet and announces he’s gay and he doesn’t really know if his parents will freak out and hate him and kick his ass out of the house or if they’ll accept it and be fine.”

  “Cami, you’re losing it.”

  “I feel bad for those kids. I mean, poor kid! Your parent hates you and knows your big secret and all you are is who you are and you love who you love...”

  He covers my mouth. “Stop it. Look at me. We didn’t hook up just for kicks this afternoon. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  I move his hand away. “You mean, like, officially?”

  “Yes, of course officially.”

  I nod. “Good. That’s good. Labels help.”

  Julian rolls his eyes. “Come on, this isn’t so bad. I’ll just tell him how I feel about you.”

  “No! You’ll be guillotined!”

  “Jeez, and you called me a chicken.”

  “I don’t want to be brave anymore.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “Make me leave.”

  “No!”

  His arms wrap around me. “It’s okay. I won’t go far. Brandon’s in Northampton, remember? Right where you work. I’m sure he’ll put me up for a while.”

  “Still.”

  “Just―maybe we should get dressed now. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I scramble to get my clothes.

  * * *

  When Dad’s truly upset with me, he slips into French. I’m expecting this. So, when Julian and I come out into the main part of the house and find him, it’s a bit of a surprise when Dad turns to Julian and says, in English, “You gave me your word.”

  I look at Julian. What word?

  “No, I didn’t,” Julian says.

  “WE’LL GET ALONG JUST AS LONG AS YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER, I SAID! AND YOU AGREED!”

  “No, I didn’t,” Julian counters calmly. “All that happened was you said what it would take for us to get along. I did not agree—in fact, if you recall, I very purposely didn’t say anything.”

  “YOU SAID NOTHING! THAT’S THE SAME THING!”

  “No, it isn’t. For me to give you my word, I have to actually give it to you.”

  “Stop it!” I cry. “Stop! Dad, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. I went after him.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “No. It’s not true,” Julian says. “I went for her just as much. It was mutual.”

  “Get out of my sight,” Dad says.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No,” says Julian. “I’m staying with Cami unless she asks me to leave.”

  “You’d defy me in my own house? This is my child.”

  “I’m not a child,” I tell Dad. “And I want him with me. I love him.”

  Oh crap. Why did I just let that slip? I glance over at Julian. His face looks unreadable, possibly because he’s gone into a state of catatonic shock.

  “You love him?” Dad retorts, finally switching to French—because he’s upset, and also so Julian won’t know what he’s saying. “This man has one leg. He’s messed in the head from the war. So you see this crippled, wounded man and pity him and call that love? I thought you knew better. He’s using you, Camille. Just using you to feel well again. That’s it. And now you’ll have to carry this scar around with you the rest of your life. See him all the time, because he’s a member of our family. Estella raised him. You think she won’t want to see him on holidays? You think he isn’t making plans to leave here once he’s well? He is. And so are you.”

  I turn to Julian, who of course didn’t understand a word of this. “He’s just worried you’ll get hurt,” he tells me under his breath. “Or ruin your life.”

  “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

  “No, I’ll talk to him. Explain I’m not a heartless bastard.”

  “I know that,” Dad says, in a slightly more measured tone. “But staying away from her was the right thing to do and you know it.”

  Julian’s eyes shift a little. Dad’s struck a nerve.

  “You’re adrift, Julian,” Dad says. “Lost and hurt and grasping on to the sweetest, prettiest life raft you can find.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re using her.”

  “Come on Chris, be fair,” says Julian.

  “You be fair—to Cami.”

  “How about you be fair to me!” I yell at Dad. “Stop pushing me around and telling me what to do. I’m not a child anymore! I can live my own life! Make my own choices!”

  Dad stares at me, obviously caught off guard by this, and hurt by it. “I’m going out,” he says. And he leaves.

  Julian waits until he’s gone, and then turns away himself.

  “Where are you going?” I ask him.

  “To pack.”

  The phone rings and I leave him to go answer it. It’s Dad. For Julian. I have no idea what’s being said by Dad, but just moments after that call, Julian’s calling and asking Brandon to come get him. “What did Dad tell you?” I ask.

  “He said he’d appreciate it if I gave him some space for a while.”

  “I’m sorry I lost my temper with him.”

  “I’m not,” Julian responds. “You were right. I was proud of you.”

  I am quiet, helplessly watching Julian pack. I try to call Estella, and there’s no answer. Eventually, she comes home from shopping to find her son in the house and Julian standing in the entryway with his bags.

  “Brandon? What are you—” Estella sees Julian’s suitcases and halts midsentence. “What’s going on here?”

  “I tried calling,” I say.

  “My cell died. Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. I’ve just decided to go to Brandon’s,” Julian replies.

  Estella turns and gives me a hard look.

  “Don’t glare at her,” Julian says.

  “I’m not glaring at her.”

  “I mean it, Estella. No mean comments to Cami after I leave. No dirty looks. It’s not her fault.”

  “What’s not her fault?” she asks. “What happened? Did you two get into a fight?”

  Julian sighs.

  “Tell me.”

  “Chris came home unexpectedly.”

  Estella’s face clouds over as understanding sinks in. “Damn it, Julian, you said you’d be careful.”

  “He barged into my room in the middle of the goddamned day. When the door was shut.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Guess.”

  “He asked you to leave?”

  Julian hesitates. “Leaving is my choice.”

  “No, Julian. Brandon and Claire live on the third floor of an apartment building that has no elevator.”

  “He’s using a cane now,” Brandon reminds her.

  His mother glares at him. “I don’t think you understand all the work that went into preparing t
his house for you. I have everything you need here. You can’t just up and leave for a two bedroom walk-up. That’s insane. I’ll speak to Chris.”

  “I can go there instead of Julian,” I offer, feeling sick over all Julian stands to lose now because of me. “That way he can stay here with you.”

  “Are you crazy?” Estella demands. “Your father would divorce me. You have to stay at home, Cami. It’s out of the question.”

  “I’m staying with Brandon awhile,” Julian says. “End of story.”

  “But...” Estella sputters. “But I don’t want you to go.”

  Julian looks at her fondly. “You’ll just have to drive out there to see me. That’s all.”

  “I still say you don’t need to do this,” Estella says unhappily. “I’ll speak to Chris. You’ll have to promise to stay away from Cami.”

  Julian and I look at each other.

  “Come see what happened to my rear fender,” Brandon suddenly tells his mother.

  “Later.”

  “Now, Ma.” He takes her arm. “Come on.” She frowns but goes with him.

  The moment we’re alone, I start coming in closer to him. We’ve had such an intense day with the talk of our future, and him showing me his leg, and now this.

  “I should go,” he says, turning from me.

  And before I can figure out what to say, before I can tell him I don’t want him to go and how it’s all my fault we were caught in the first place, he leaves. He just turns and hobbles out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Julian’s gone,” I say to Dad when he returns later that afternoon. “I hope you’re happy.”

  Dad frowns at me. “How’s your knee?”

  “It’s fine. Did you hear me?”

  “Yes. I’m cutting you back to about twenty hours a week,” he says, still frowning. “So you can enjoy all the senior year parties and activities.”

  Wait—where is this coming from? What does that have to do with anything? “I said Julian is gone. He moved out. Do you care?”

  “You’ll work two to ten Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. Have weekends off.”

  Weekends off would be good. But still, that’s not the point. “Fine. Whatever.”

  He looks at me. “And I’m not letting you work at the restaurant once you graduate. You’ll need to figure out another plan.”

  I stare at him, tears smarting in my eyes. Great timing for a bombshell. “Anything else?” I cry.

  “No.”