by Cage, Aria
I feel the pain in my chest at the loss of him. He has been my rock since I can remember, and now I have nothing but doubt. Doubt is a brutal sensitivity; it puts everything you trusted into the ground, burying it so deep, you wonder if any of it was true to begin with. It’s been twelve months and not one letter from Nate, not a message or a phone call.
I thought he loved me, but that was all bullshit. That was the past. I just wish my need for his touch would agree.
It’s deep in the darkness when I feel the agony of solace. I don’t do alone well, and I want him back. I want his bed that has been my safety net for years, but have been deprived from for so long I can’t remember the smell anymore.
Nona and Davey don’t call either, and they changed their phone number. I could get it again, but why bother when they obviously don’t want my call, and really, why the hell would they? I am the reason Nate is now in jail and their family in tatters. I ruined them all because I was too fucking scared to stand up to Daddy, because I was stupid enough to think he would let me leave, because I liked every touch Nate caressed me with… because I’m a fucking dirty coward. Charlie is a cute name for what I am; it in no way does the truth justice.
This is my third foster home and probably not my last, because I refuse their God and the forgiveness he wants to gift me. It’s not God who needs to forgive me. My last home lasted too long; I told his wife about his touches and brushes. She called me a fucking liar and sent me packing the next day. By far, though, my first home was the worst because it was all so fresh. I don’t know if I had a chance at happiness in the Jennings home; I didn’t think I would ever find happiness without Nate, so I didn’t even try.
I still can’t find happiness without him.
So, now I sit at the bus stop, waiting for the Greyhound that will take me to see him. I need to see the boy I love or the man he has become; either one I will love to the end of my days and it will be the one thing that will keep me going.
The bus pulls in, the exhaust tickling my nose. It’s almost bare, and I feel the eyes on me as I watch my feet take me a quarter of the way up the isle before I swing into a seat and look out the window at nothing in particular. I do this the whole ride before the driver alerts me that it’s my stop. A fresh load of eyes fall upon me as I rush to the front, smile at the driver and disembark before he can say what it looked like he wanted to say.
I have lost everything and nothing is going to stop me from seeing him today. I want him to know I’m waiting for his release. I want to see him, so I know everything was real for the both of us. Maybe we could get married like on those shows and I can visit him all the time… and maybe unicorns will grant me three wishes.
It turns out; all I need is one wish. I’m underage, and without adult supervision, I cannot visit inmates. It was all for nothing, well, almost. After one solitary tear the guard said he could give Nate a letter as long as I was happy that staff would read it first as per policy. I don’t hesitate to agree to his terms; anything for Nate to know where I am and that I’m waiting for him. If he has my address, he can write me.
My hand shakes so badly my handwriting is a mess, though I really think he won’t care about such things. I scribe so fast, in case the guard changes his mind, and when I finish I bring the letter toward my lips before the guard scares me, almost making me drop it.
“No. You can’t leave lipstick, gloss, or scent on the letter. Sorry.”
He did appear apologetic, and I smile my thanks as I fold the letter in two and await him to read it, but he doesn’t. I look at him, then hand him my letter, willing him to do it now, before I head home. But he slides it into an envelope and stays at his post, killing a little piece of hope with ever delayed second.
He notes my hesitation to leave and smiles wryly. “It takes about a week to get processed before he will get it, so waiting is no use.”
“Oh.” I needed two wishes. “Thanks.” Deflated and empty, I turn and head back to my bus stop where I have no idea if there is a bus that can take me back before the four o’clock bus I planned to catch.
I sit, more tears sliding down my face in silence for hours before the next bus could take me back. When I walk through those white doors of my God loving foster parents home, I know I’m on my way to a new residence. If Nate were to get my letter in a few days, or even tomorrow, it would be too late for me to get a reply. Mark and Beverly Smith would not forward mail stamped from a government penitentiary, and I will never get that letter. Nonetheless, it will not stop me from writing another, and another, and another.
Nate needs to know my love is stronger than bars and bricks.
HE THINKS I DON’T see him cowering behind the aisles, pretending to do his groceries. I’ve started to make a game of it to teach the douche-canoe a lesson. Just when he thinks it’s safe to follow me down the aisle, I turn, and he has to quickly grab an item from the shelf or pretend to study a sale. So I head for the toiletries and make sure he is right by the tampons when I look back, sending him into a spin. For a second he doesn’t realize what’s in front of him, his faux inspection is about to embarrass him, and I can’t help the giggle when those sexy, dark brows furrow once he does.
I steer my cart round the corner, truly smiling from the inside for the first time in a long time. He always was my reason for smiling and I miss him deeply.
A pack of tampons drops into my cart making me jump, even though I know who threw them there.
“I figured you must have needed these,” he says as he drives his cart beside mine.
I don’t look at him as I try to hide my grin. “Ah, I wasn’t the one who stopped to inspect them.”
He chuckles, and I can’t hold back, either.
“How’ve you been?” he asks like we are old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while… wait. Well, that’s exactly what we are. But I mustn’t kid myself. We were always more than that, and definitely always will be, despite the restrictions we place on ourselves.
“You would know,” I say with a grin, and he shies into his chest, all adorable.
“Sorry.”
I start to move my cart on, and he follows suit in silence. I guess there’s no reason in hiding anymore.
“Are you seriously eating frozen corndogs?” I inspect the contents in his steel cart of garbage food and shake my head.
“They’re good for something quick. Don’t judge.”
“Oh, I’m judging. Do you actually eat all that crap?”
He looks at the contents and laughs. “Some I threw in there when I was trying to throw you off my stalking scent.”
“Uh-huh. So, the ready-made burger patties aren’t part of your usual shopping list?”
“Yeah, they are. The dog food, no; I don’t have a dog.”
I laugh and come to a stop at the end of the aisle. “When did you last have a proper meal?” His brows rise, and I mimic. “Well?”
“Before the accident, I would try to get Nona’s for a meal once a week. Normally I’m too busy.”
“It’s been weeks since your accident.”
“Yeah well, it’s been a tough few weeks.”
I nod knowing exactly what he is saying. It’s been tough all round. I look around for a shop assistant and see a young boy in his Piggly Wiggly uniform, filling the shelves. I take Nate’s cart from him, ignoring his protests as I leave it with the boy explaining Nate needed some tips on shopping. At first the young man appears annoyed that he would have to put the small amount of groceries away, but then he smiles and takes the cart.
I turn back to Nate and my awaiting cart, half filled with fresh produce. I ignore his incredulous expression and smile smugly. “I’ll cook you some dinner. It’s the least I can do.”
It’s probably wrong and stupid, but it feels good to be looking after him for a change.
I grab at the cart, but he nudges me aside. “I’m pushing.”
I put my palms up and snicker. “Okay, but remember there’s now tampons in there.”
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Nate laughs, out and out laughs, and it sounds so good to hear him it. Instantly his eyes and skin light up, and I know I’m doing the right thing.
We walk the aisles in silence for a couple of minutes, me grabbing for items from the shelf, Nate taking them from me and popping them in the cart until we reach the end and swing back to the registers, where again, I’m nudged out of the way. He smirks as he piles items up for the cashier to scan. I could get used to this. It felt good and natural. He didn’t let me pay, and for the first time, it occurs to me that I don’t know what Nate does for a living other than construction.
I follow him as he pushes the cart to my car and holds his hand out for me to pass him my keys so he can load the groceries. I watch as he favors his right shoulder and loads my trunk. “Still in a bit of pain?”
“Some, nothing major or to worry about.” He rolls his shoulder to prove a point, not succeeding.
“Would you like to come over now, or meet me back at the motel around six?” I ask, cursing the nervousness in my own voice. I wasn’t asking him to date me, marry me, fuck me. No, we were having dinner like friendly adults do. That is all.
“I’ll come back later. I have to wash up and get tomorrow’s work in order.”
We stand there, in the hot sun by my car, like two awkward teenagers. It was never awkward between us. Never. I go to say something and nothing comes out. He reaches for me and then drops his arm. He chuckles and steps back from me, then takes another step, and another, until he is right out in the lot. He then turns around and heads to the huge, blue truck that reads, SHAW CONSTRUCTION on the side. Ohmygod!
I watch my best friend, my old lover, the love of my life and a complete stranger give me a single wave as he pulls away and drives from the Piggly Wiggly parking lot.
There are going to be some serious questions and answers tonight.
I walk to my cart to the bay and almost skip my way back to the car. All of a sudden, I’m excited. I don’t know how long it’s been since I was excited about cooking for someone. There’s no fear or stress, just pure, adrenaline-induced excitement.
Forcing a steady breath, I drive lawfully through the streets of Beaver Dam with a dream in my heart for a fresh start as an adult with her life ahead of her and an aching grin on my face.
This is what freedom is, making the small choices in life, like whom you will have dinner with. I will never let this go again, and I will never take it for granted.
I’M SO PROUD OF her, so fucking proud. I just wish I could be proud and not want to throw her down and show how much I miss her, the whole her, mind and body.
It took everything in me to make the first move away. It was only her smile that urged me to do it. She is happy, and it’s because of me. It sounds messed up; I know that. But our bodies are like beacons to each other. We belong, we fit; together we beat off the world’s beatings.
I take the stairs two at a time and I’m in the house in seconds, stripping all the way to the shower, leaving a trail of clothes behind. I damn near land on my face when I forget to kick my boots off before dropping my pants in the hall.
I have loads of time, but I want to make sure I grab some flowers on the way, and maybe a bottle of wine or… shit! The water’s burning because my brain is sparking crazily and I didn’t turn the cold on. I’m backed up to the tiles dancing like I’m part of Riverdance until the temperature cools and then, of course, it’s way too cold, but that I can handle. In fact, a cool shower is probably a good idea for many reasons.
I soap and scrub, dry and spray. Shaving requires me to calm the fuck down and stop acting like a kid or I’ll shred my face.
I complete the task with a sigh of relief that I’m in one piece. I don’t think I could have faced the torment Charlie would surely throw at me if I had to explain craters missing from my face. I kick my strewn clothes to the side. I’ll get them later.
Like a chump, I change my outfit twice before going for jeans and a navy button-up, look at the clock and see it’s four-fifty. I’ll be early, but if I’m honest, I want to be. I want to see her and be close to her. Chump.
It’s just that things seem different today, like her old self. There are signs of cheek and fire; I was scared that they were lost, but she’s coming back. My Charlie is coming back.
IT STARTED LIKE AN awkward date; flowers, jerky movement, and an awkward peck. There were patches of silence that drew on into its own time zone as he looked around my home.
Yeah, I’m calling this small room my home, because for a very long time I haven’t had one. Not since the state took me away. So despite having my bathroom in view of my kitchenette and tiny dining table, the overproduced landscape portrait, or my bed that sits like a fat elephant in the room, it’s my home.
At least for now.
I collect the dishes and take them to the tiny sink, anything to cut the thick, tense need between us. When I feel the heaviness of his warm body against my back, God help me, I sigh into him like he is the only real home I ever had. My mind, body, and damaged soul melt into him. He wraps his big arms around me, holding me securely, and I know there will be no other home for me. Beds, roofs, walls; they are all inconsequential to his embrace. When Nate takes me, I am his.
My heart raps fast and hard. I feel his beat against my back, not in sync, but ultimately driven by the same desire. I clench his jeans at his thick thighs, feeling the muscle bulging under the denim. It wasn’t the only muscle I could feel straining against the tight material, and I want it. I don’t think I have ever wanted him this bad.
I try to turn around, needing more, but he holds me still, and it only excites me further. Gripping at his jeans, I try to get my hands between us so I can access him, but he pushes against me harder. The sink digs into my pelvis; the sharp pain only adding to the burning need.
Nate’s tongue grazes a hot trail up my neck to my jaw, and I stretch for more. I need it. Arching into his hands as he practically kneads my breast through the cotton of my sundress that I picked out because he always likes it when I wear a dress. I pant and lick my lips before he reaches for my chin and pulls my mouth to his, extending my neck and devouring me. His tongue is so soft and driving me wild as it dips with its own needs, brushing against my teeth and lips. I swear he has never kissed me like this. There’s a cloak of desperation that I’m breathing in and matching, grasping onto anything of him I can to bring him closer to me.
His kiss is strong, absorbing, and I want to just die as his fingers rake through my hair, holding my mouth to his. He always loved kissing, and now his desire has intensified. If we both didn’t need to breathe, we would kiss forever.
His teeth nip against the corner of my lower lip. His hot, damp, breath rasping against my jaw and ear, the sound making my belly ache, and it ached harder as his other hand slid from my breast, over my stomach, to my sex.
I moan before he even takes hold, sucking hungrily on my neck. I can’t take much more of this without being able to touch him; it’s frustrating and… fucking hot.
“Please,” I beg in a rasp, and he groans against my skin before flipping me around and taking my mouth again. His hands take the bottom of my dress and pull it up enough for him to get to my panties that are wet. I am so ready for him, wanting him, needing him. I fumble with the button of his jeans like the novice I am not. But my hand won’t stop shaking, I can’t stop shaking. I don’t even get to the zipper before he grips my ass and lifts me onto him. I wrap my legs around his waist; my lips seeking his jaw, which is almost baby-smooth. He smells of something rich, and it makes me want to lick him, so I do. I lick and taste and breathe him in as he spreads me out over the bed. My fingers dragging through his short, dark hair as he kisses my neck, my chest, and as his fingers make little work of the tiny buttons of my dress. His lips and tongue follow, sending me spiralling down the rabbit hole into my crazy.
He’s hovering over the dips of my breasts, just over the lace-covered nipple, and I know what he’s about to do; my
body knows it. As his lips close over the peaked cherry, I gasp, and he sucks harder before finishing his expedition down under the small mound. Who the fuck knew the under breast could be so sensitive? I arch higher, and he groans.
“You’re so beautiful. I want to touch, lick, taste and eat every last inch of you.”
I can’t think, I just do. “Nate,” I say begging.
“I know.” His voice is deep with a mutual need. He licks and nips his way right to my panties, hovering dangerously, torturing me. I wriggle beneath him, but he holds me to the mattress. “Soon, but first, I will devour you, and then, I will make you mine forever,” he vows.
The urge to cry is strong. I want to kiss him and love him. I want to show him how much I want to be his. I want to tell him I’ve always been his. As the words lick my inner lip, his hot mouth is over my sex, licking and sucking through the material as his fingers seek the soft, wet flesh through the side of the drenched and strained material. There is no resistance to his pursuing fingers as they slide into me, building the heavy ache that’s spread from my stomach to my entire sex making it softer for him.
My body wriggles relentlessly despite Nate’s weight holding me down, his shoulders and arms keeping my legs apart for him. Why won’t he take me already? I need him inside me, filling me with his thick cock and heady seed. I feel out of breath and almost crazy as I build and build against the thrusting of his fingers and torture of his mouth.
“Now!” I rasp pushing at his head, torn between wanting to lose myself to his savor or the small reprieve that having to undress him will give me before he takes me.
There’s a deep growl of need from his chest as he rises and pulls his shirt over the back of his head throwing it to the side of the bed. He slides off the bottom of the mattress, never deviating from my gaze that burns to see him naked, to see his ready cock for me. It will be the first time we make love as adults and it will be the closure on all that is past. I need this in so many ways, as does he.