Before You

by Annie Brewer

  Brent and I exchange glances, but I answer. “Not a whole lot—besides getting into trouble.” I mean that figuratively and literally, speaking from experience.

  “There is a lake house a couple of hours from here we sometimes spend a night or two at,” Brent informs her. “I’m not sure who is going this time, though.”

  She yawns, quickly covering her mouth with an arm. Her eyes reveal just how tired she is with dark smudges underneath. “Well, we should make plans when I’ve had some sleep.” She sips her chocolate milk.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I push my fist into the seat. “Ready to go?” I ask them both. They nod so we pay our bill and leave.

  I pick up my truck from Brent’s and we shoot the shit for a few minutes outside, making plans to meet up tomorrow, and then I take Addie back to my house. I don’t have time to ask her if she’d like to visit with my mom before going to sleep because my mom greets us out front. My mom is so happy to see her, and it appears the same for Addie. I leave them alone for girl time, bringing some bedding from the linen closet out to my room to make up the sofa. It opens to a bed and is pretty comfortable. I’m sure she won’t be picky about where she’s sleeping.

  I change into my boxer shorts and T-shirt before climbing into bed with the remote. Nothing’s really on, so I get up to pick a DVD to watch and settle on Blade Trinity. I’m a big Snipes fan.

  It isn’t long until I hear a faint knock on my door. I get up to open it, locking it again once she’s inside. Returning to my spot on the bed, I gesture to the sofa. “I made up the sofa bed for you,” I tell her. “Unless you prefer the guestroom in the house.” I didn’t stop to think if she’d be comfortable sleeping in here with me. Not that I’d try anything, but it shows how inconsiderate I am. Why would I just assume she’d want to sleep here when I hadn’t made an effort to speak to her in two years? Such a presumptuous ass I am.

  Setting her luggage in the corner, Addie sits on the bed and bounces lightly with her hands splayed over the bedspread as if trying it out for comfort. A smile plays on her lips when she glances at me from across the room. “This is perfect. Thanks.” And then she yawns, stretching her torso with her arms above her head.

  I let out a relieved breath and avert my ogling gaze before it turns into blatant staring. I’m just happy she’s staying and not opting to sleep somewhere else. I shouldn’t want this. It could end up a disaster. Then again, it could end up being what we both need. Having someone there in the middle of the night when the darkness takes over and our pasts come back to haunt us. Having someone there to talk to when the lights are out and we’re both awake, restless with our thoughts. For some reason, it’s easier to be open in the dark. I’ve never had anyone to tell my fears to. I know I’ll be that person for her, should she want or need to talk about her parents. Life in Texas since I left, whatever it would be. I’ll be her ears for listening. Her shoulder to cry on. I’ll be the friend I should’ve been. The friend she deserves.

  Her eyes take in my room with interest, drawing her to my desk. “This place is cozy.” Her hands skim books and the clutter of paper on top. She turns halfway to face me, a smile threatening to break through. “You’re sketching again?” I hear the hope in her voice and I just shrug from indifference.

  I used to sketch, a lot. I even had a notebook of several sketches I wanted to share with my art teacher. But that all went to hell the moment I found my sketchbook in the trash with cigarette burns and alcohol stains. It couldn’t be saved. And that was when I decided I didn’t want to stay in the same house as my father. I confronted him about it and he happily confessed, and that he’d do it again because “boys who took an interest in drawing or sketching meant they were pussies.” When Addie asked me why I never showed her my sketches anymore, I just told her I was over the phase. We were ten, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth. Or the fact that I missed it.

  I shake off the memory with a shrug as I sift through papers, stuffing them in a drawer. “I don’t really do that stuff anymore.”

  “You were so good,” she says, brows furrowing. “I always hoped you’d go back to it—”

  I close the drawer with more force than necessary, causing her to flinch. “I don’t like art anymore, okay?” I snap. “God, there’s more to life than doodling in a fucking notebook.” I turn around and sit back on the bed, wondering what’s gotten into me. Addie hasn’t moved from her spot, but her eyes are bugging out of her head, shocked by my outburst. I don’t blame her for her reaction to seeing a different side of me. I’m instantly regretting inviting her to sleep in here, because now I have to watch how I act. I’m torn between apologizing for being a giant douche and just turning my back on her to go to sleep.

  When she finally speaks, I hear the hesitation in her voice. It cracks with emotion and I want to punch my fist through a wall. “I need to get changed,” she says digs through her bag for clothes. “Is there a bathroom in here?”

  I point to the closed door in the corner as I rise from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” I pat the side pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I reach the door, turn to face her and say, “I’m gonna step outside for a few minutes.”

  She nods, watching me leave.

  I sit on the ground close to the water but not enough to get wet, taking drags of nicotine that isn’t doing much for my nerves. I’d go for a beer if I weren’t so tired and ready for sleep. I glance down when I feel my leg vibrating, pulling out my cell phone and scan the lit up screen. Shelly. Somehow I’m not surprised it’s her. I read her message with very little interest and some curiosity.

  Hey, I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I know you’re not into me like that. And I still let myself fall for you. My mistake. I don’t know what else to say. Except I’m sorry. Please understand my side, though.

  I do understand. I just don’t know how to explain my side. It’s always the same issue. And I don’t like being a dick, but I can’t change who I am. She’s better off finding someone who can fulfill both the physical and emotional needs she deserves. Damn, this sucks. She’s good at pleasing and satisfying. Am I really willing to give that up?

  I can’t think of a good enough response at the moment so I lock my phone away to deal with later. It’s late and for all she knows, I’m sleeping. Once I finish my second cigarette, I toss it in the water and retreat to my room.

  “Do you want me to sleep in the house?”

  I stop short to see Addie dressed in sleep shorts and a matching tank top sitting on the edge of the bed, looking glum. I reach back to lock the door before coming to sit on my bed, facing her. The TV volume is too loud for me to think properly so I hit the mute button. I can’t stop my eyes from staring at her bare legs, so tan and not at all skinny. They appear healthy with a nice build to them. Almost like she’s a runner or something. Why does she have to wear shit like that in front of me? Of course she’s not aware of my attraction to her, so I can’t hold it against her. Still, it’s really distracting.

  I tear my gaze away, focusing on the movie, which is almost over now, to find something to distract my hormonal brain on other than those amazing legs. She’s totally killing me, flaunting what I can’t touch. It’s chilly in here to be wearing shorts. With resignation, I shake my head and keep my voice steady. “No, stay here.” I meet her blue eyes, letting one corner of my mouth lift. “If you want.”

  She fidgets with her hands between her thighs. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’re not.” I push a hand through my hair, angry with myself. It’s my fault she feels this way. That is not how I wanted things to escalate between us. We never felt out of place or uncomfortable around each other. Being with her was easy, normal and now I just want it back. Fucking raging teenage hormones. Fuck it all.

  Before I know what’s happening, she’s sitting on my bed beside me, her arms wrapped around my back in a tight hug as if she knows I’m falling apart on the inside. I’m so taken aback by the gesture I almost cry. Such a strange t
hing to have a girl holding me when it doesn’t involve sex or alcohol. It’s kind of nice.

  I feel her breath warm against my neck and close my eyes, feeling the quick beat of my heart inside my chest. “I’m here for you, Ky.” She mumbles. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

  I swallow, slowly untangling my arms from her back, enough to look at her. My eyes search hers, not sure what for, but mine are probably revealing gratitude or appreciation. A little remorse as well. “Thank you, Addie,” I tell her, feeling my lips pull up in a tight smile. “I don’t deserve it after being the worst possible friend,” I admit, regretfully. “But thank you.” She doesn’t know that I’ve thought about her constantly, even when I tried desperately not to. Maybe one day I’ll tell her…just not tonight. Patting her on the leg, I add, “But I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  She smiles. “I know you will. Even though it’s not necessary. It’s in the past.” She yawns, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. “But I am really sleepy.”

  “Me too,” I reply, moving toward the head of my bed. “I think it’s time to sleep.” She does the same, getting under the covers and bids me goodnight. It doesn’t take long before I notice her fast asleep. It takes longer for me, though. As exhausted as I feel, I can’t seem to shut my mind off. Eventually, it happens.

  I startle awake, the sound of screams has me frantically tearing out of bed. I stop beside Addie as she thrashes about, mumbling incoherent sentences in her slumber. Afraid to scare her, I gently shake her. “Addie, wake up.” I catch words here and there. No. Stop. Leave. Please. But I can’t tell what it all means. Obviously she’s having a nightmare, but about what? “Addie,” I say louder, more desperate to end what is causing her cries. Finally, I grab both of her shoulders and shake her hard.

  “What the—” She jolts upward, almost knocking her head against mine, but I move away from her in time. “What happened?” she asks in a sleepily, confused state.

  I can tell her heart is pounding by the gasp of each breath. I know mine is. I’m not used to waking up from a deep sleep by the sounds of screams. I don’t like it very much. I can only imagine how she feels. I slowly lower myself onto the bed beside her, pushing her hair to the side, away from her sticky, sweaty face. “You were having a nightmare,” I inform her, wondering if it was the first time. Would she even tell me if it wasn’t?

  Luckily, I don’t like the pitch dark so I have a small nightlight that lights up the room enough to navigate your way without running into shit. I’ll admit, I was afraid of the dark since a small child. Too much bad shit happened in the dark and I never outgrew it. It’s embarrassing to think about. As a child, it’s understandable. As a teenager—soon to be eighteen, which would make me an adult at that point—not so much.

  Addie covers her mouth, embarrassed to have me witness her nightmare. She uncovers it to say, “Was I talking in my sleep?”

  I nod.

  “What did I say?”

  “Words. I couldn’t really decipher the whole thing. I got bits and pieces: no, leave, please, and stop, I think.” I pull her hand away from her face. “It’s okay, Addie.” I pause. “Wanna talk about it?” I realize then how much I want to take away whatever’s troubling her. I just hope she’ll open up, trust me.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  I wave a hand in the air. “It’s fine. It was a nightmare, it happens.” I pull her in for a hug, hoping she’ll find a little comfort in the fact that being awoken does not bother me. We can’t control our minds when we’re passed out. And it’s sucks when no one is there to pull you out of it. I’m glad I was there. “Are you okay?” I ask when I pull away from her, trying to read her.

  She shrugs as she stares off, probably lost in her troubled thoughts. “I’m fine. I’m just embarrassed you had to see that.” Moving down under the covers, she raises the blanket up to her neck. She gives my arm a squeeze and looks up at me. “Thanks for waking me up. And thanks for chasing my nightmare away.” She turns on her side, her back to me.

  I wait until I catch her even breaths, telling me she fell back asleep, before returning to my own bed. But now I’m wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, just thinking about anything and everything. I’m just thinking. And it isn’t until I glance at my clock on my nightstand that I realize I’m not falling asleep anytime soon. Quietly, I get out of bed and pull open my desk drawer for some paper and a pencil. It’s been awhile since I’ve sketched anything, probably won’t turn out good. I try anyway, sitting at my desk chair, close enough to where Addie is still in a peaceful sleep, and sketch her face the best I can with the little light that is provided.

  It’ll be good to have for when she leaves to go back home. I’ll have a drawing of her, one I revert to in my state of hollowness, seeking comfort only she can bring me.

  Chapter Five

  “Ky.”

  I feel myself being shaken, not even remembering how I made it to bed. Or what time it was. The last thing I remember is sitting at Addie’s side with my sketchbook on my lap. The rest is hazy. Like, did I even put the pencil to paper? Did she see it? God, I hope not. It was impulsive and stupid. I don’t have the talent I once had, and it would be crazy to even think I did. I lift my head and peer up at her, leaning over me. “What’s up?” I ask groggily, checking the clock for the time. 10:30. It’s only Saturday, I should be allowed to sleep in. Clearly, I am wrong in that line of thinking where Addie is concerned.

  She’s smiling a little too cheerfully for my liking. “Let’s go ice-skating.”

  I blink, trying to clear my thoughts. “Huh?” Did she really just ask me to go ice-skating at ten thirty-two on a Saturday? “I must be hearing things.”

  She shakes her head—her expression turned serious. “Your mom told me you know where the skating rink is.” She shows a sliver of a smile. “I’m in the mood for ice-skating.” She pulls at me.

  I throw myself back onto my pillow with a groan. “Seriously? I suck at skating.” I love hockey, though. I just couldn’t stay upright on the ice without breaking a leg or a hip. She’s crazy for thinking I’d actually go.

  She frowns. “Please? I need to get out and do stuff,” she kneels at my bedside instead of sitting on my bed where it’s comfier. I make room for her. “Oh, and we got donuts and coffee.” Oh, thank God. I could use a delicious pastry this morning. She gets up from the floor, making it to the door before turning back to me. “Get dressed, and come have breakfast with us.”

  Kicking off the covers, I stretch out my legs and pop my back, making a ton of cracking noises. “Okay, bossy,” I say to her with a salute as she swings the door open and gives a stern wag of her finger like she’s scolding me. I just laugh as I lie in bed, giving myself a minute to wake up. The night comes back to me, her nightmare. It seems she slept soundly after I woke her up. I, on the other hand, feel like I’ve been beaten down and run over. But I reluctantly leave the comfort and warmth of my bed, entering the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I need a shower before I go anywhere.

  After a quick one, I come back to my room to get dressed. Settling on jeans and a plain black T-shirt, I fix my hair and head back into the house where an assortment of donuts and Kolaches await me. “Damn, something smells good.”

  My mom greets me with a big ass mug of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. “You can thank Addie for the delicious treats.” She seems unusually happy this morning and I soon realize why. Addie’s presence brings a kind and sort of contentment out of her. It’s always been my father and me. She’s never had another female in the house to share girly shit with. Maybe she figures as long as Addie’s around, my dad will back off. Highly doubtful, but I won’t be the one to dampen her spirits. I’ll let him do that, which he will. Eventually.

  We sit and eat at the table in a comfortable silence with just the sound of smacking and slurping filling the kitchen.

  “So,” my mom speaks up, glancing at me. “Are you go
nna take her ice-skating today?”

  I toss Addie a quick glance, watching her devour a cherry-filled donut. “Thinking about it.” I pass a napkin to her so she can wipe the filling that is now dripping from her chin, trying not to laugh at her. Since it would be rude and all.

  Taking it graciously from me, her cheeks begin to turn a shade of pink as she dabs the napkin to clean the mess from her face. “I haven’t had donuts in so long.” She licks her lips and then her fingers. “Remember our Sunday morning donut ritual?” she asks, taking me back to childhood at the Reynolds’ household.

  I nod. “You were a little pig back then,” I tease.

  She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Still am, apparently.”

  “Well, you can have donuts every morning you’re here if you’d like.” My mom pats her hand. She then rubs her stomach and sighs loudly in satisfaction. “That was delightful.”

  I finish my coffee and glazed donuts, feeling full and more awake. We still have quite a few left in the box so I suggest to Addie we save them for the next morning, and then put the box in the fridge to keep fresh. I lean against the counter, watching her clean the table with a wet rag, disbelieving the sight of her in my kitchen. I haven’t seen her in two years and she’s quickly showing me how little I know her anymore. How much people change.

  Feeling my stare on her back, she looks over her a shoulder and straightens. “Your mom doesn’t mind me doing this stuff, does she?”

  “You mean cleaning?” I ask and she nods. I shake my head with a chuckle. “Are you kidding me? I’m sure she’s happy to give her chores over to you. She’s always doing housework.”

  “I was just raised to help out anywhere I went. And it’s kind of a habit to clean when I see crumbs or a speck of dirt.” She pauses. “Something my mom instilled in me.”