Connor pulls me up onto him, lying down on the couch. I lie my head on his heart and listen to the beats. Are they calling my name the way my heart has been calling his since I was thirteen? Do I mean as much to him? Could I ever? I want to ask what we are. What we could be, but I’m too scared of what his answer might be.
The only sound between us is our ragged breathing and the crickets making a symphony outside. I feel pressure to say something, but not the crazy thoughts swirling through my head. I need to start the conversation with something less loaded. Less meaningful.
“So,” I finally catch my breath and struggle to grasp at any clear thought that doesn’t have to do with who or what we are as a couple or non-couple. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”
9|Connor
Her question hangs in the air and my skin breaks out in gooseflesh, like a sudden arctic blast just cooled the room.
“Well,” her eyes twinkle, like I’m about to tell her the punchline of a joke, “what did you do anyway? I mean, I know Marcus has a temper, but the way he chased you out of the house was pretty crazy, even for him.” She smirks at me, but I can’t return the smile. I can’t even fake it. Instead my gut churns as flashes of the memory that I’d long ago suppressed resurfaces.
“Let’s not talk about this now,” I kiss her shoulder and try to pull her into me. “I’m pretty tired, how about we head up to my loft and get some rest?” I hope she’ll drop it. I hope she’ll let it go.
“Oh come on, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily, are you kidding me? My brother practically throws you out of the house naked, threatening to beat you with a bat and I’m supposed to let it drop? No way. Spill it,” she sits up and cocks her head at me, twisting her full lips to the side.
If you don’t tell her, he will. Who do you want her to hear this from? What side of the story is going to make you sound worse?
I try to toss my stupid conscience from my head like I was tossed from Charlotte’s house, but I’m not as convincing as Marcus in rage mode. No one I know is.
Ever since we were kids, his temper had been the stuff of legends, or at least comic books. He might not have turned green and busted through his shirt when he lost his shit on people, but he was still a destructive, blind-with-rage Hulk. I still can’t believe he is a Pastor. Marcus. The guy who once lost a game of marbles and bashed his bag of cat eyes and oilies against the winner’s face. I always thought the people who were doing God’s work here were supposed to be more like Mother Teresa and less like mafia thugs.
“I’m waiting,” Charlotte presses me and I sit up on the couch, feeling like I’m trying to swim toward the surface under a sheet of ice. Even as I move toward the light, the truth, the confession that’s supposed to make me take that first fresh lungful of air, I can see the cold wall of my past mistakes locking me under, forcing me to drown in a history I thought I’d left behind.
I run my hand over my beard, scratching my chin through the rough hairs and look up at her. Charlotte’s face has transformed from wide-eyed playful insistence to a serious squint.
I clear my throat, but it still feels dry, “So, I’m not sure if you remember much about Sandra.”
“Sandra? His high school sweetheart?” Charlotte frowns like she’s trying to put together a one-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle without looking at the picture on the box first.
“That’s the one, yep. Well, on prom night, we all went camping. Not just us, but almost our entire class was there. It was a drunken shit show. Lots of high school drama, binge drinking, drugs, sex, the whole nine yards.” I breathe in deep as I can almost smell the campfire and hear the anthem of our year, Crazy In Love by Beyoncé and Jay Z, blasting again. I blink away the memories and try to keep myself calm, steady and present in the here and now. I don’t need to relive it just because I’m explaining. It’s alright to leave that shit behind. Besides, I can’t still be held accountable for fourteen-year-old mistakes, can I?
“Gotcha so far,” Charlotte interrupts my scattered thoughts, imploring me to continue with her chocolate eyes.
“Yeah, so, I got wasted pretty early in the night and passed out in my tent. I couldn't hold my liquor back then, so the rum kicked my ass pretty quickly. Anyway, I didn’t know that Marcus and Sandra got into some kind of epic fight. I heard later that he lost his temper at her and made her cry and she told him she was done with it all. She broke up with him in front of everyone and stormed off. Like I said, I learned that all later on.” I scratch the side of my burning cheek and look down at the sofa. I don’t want to see her eyes when I tell her the next part. I can’t face her judgement.
“So, what does that have to do with you?” She sits a little taller and even though she’s a foot shorter than me, I’ve never felt smaller.
“Okay, so, like I said, I was hammered and done for the night when my tent zips open and someone comes in. I wasn’t even sure who it was. I was completely out of it, I swear. Anyway, she couldn’t really wake me up by crying and talking so she tried a different approach,” I swallow hard, “she, uh, well, let’s just say the next thing I knew she was on top of me and I was fucking her.”
“What? Sandra and Marcus were supposed to get married!”
“I know! I know!” I hold up my hands like I’m trying to fend off an attacker, but I can’t hide from the truth. “Listen, I’m telling you one-hundred-percent the God’s honest truth, I didn’t even know who I fucked that night. It was a blur. She used me to get back at your brother. As soon as we were done I passed out and Sandra found Marcus and made sure he knew what went down. The next thing I know I’m being woken up again, but this time it’s because Marcus jumped on my tent and was choking me through the fabric. No lie, I thought I was gonna die. If the crowd hadn’t pulled him off, and one of the guys hadn’t driven me home, I think he would’ve killed me.” I’m not trying to make Marcus sound like he was in the wrong for his anger, but I don’t want Charlotte getting the idea that I did this on purpose.
“I can’t believe you’d do that! Marcus and you were best friends since, what? You guys were three?” Charlotte hops off the couch and rushes over to her clothes, tugging them on quickly.
“Lottie, I didn’t know. I really didn’t. I was probably five times the legal limit and some woman started riding me. It’s not like I tracked her down into some corner and stole her from him. She went out of her way to make this happen,” I plead.
“That’s no excuse,” she zips up her jeans and throws her shirt back on. “If you didn’t have loyalty to a guy who was pretty much a brother to you, then you’ll never have loyalty to me. People don’t change, Connor, not that much anyway. Marcus was right, I made a mistake getting involved with you,” her voice cracks and she steps into her shoes. As she turns her head away from me, I see her wipe the tears from her face that were forming in her eyes.
“Charlotte, don’t run off like this! Come on, at least try to see things from my perspective,” I jump up and try to rush over to her.
“I’m sorry Connor, but I can’t. I never knew what made him give up on love or why he devoted his life to the church, but now I know it’s because you broke his heart.” She opens my front door and quickly makes her way to my car.
I stand on the front step, buck naked with my head spinning for the second time today.
“Fuck!” I yell as she backs out of the driveway and I watch her drive out of my life.
10|Charlotte
Tears blur my vision and streak down my face as I drive down the dusty, winding road. Connor’s cabin isn’t exactly conveniently located. It’s close enough that he’s still got electricity and running water and all that. However, it’s far enough out in the Willamette National Forest that it’s making this bumpy, dark drive home unbearable.
I can’t believe I never knew about Sandra. My memories of her and my brother flip through my mind like one of those cartoons you make move by thumbing past the pages. He loved her so much, he was going to marry her once they g
ot out of high school. She was the one person who could calm his stormy temper… or at least that’s what I remembered. Connor made is sound like he wasn’t as nice to her as I’d thought.
I bite my lip and my eyebrows crunch together at the thought. Did Marcus ever lose it on her like he had with everyone else in his life? As a kid, I never saw anything like that. I always watched as they held hands, laughed, and danced together. I remember thinking my life would be complete if I found a guy who loved me as much as Sandra loved my brother. Now I’m grateful that prayer was never answered.
I flick on my four-way flashers, even though I know there’s no one on this road, and pull over. I need to get myself under control. Driving through a haze of tears is going to put me in a ditch. Inside me, there’s a storm brewing, part of me is begging me to go back to Connor. To stay regardless of whatever happened with Marcus and his ex, and chase my own happiness.
I remember how Marcus turned to the church after Sandra left him. When our parents passed away in a car accident a year later, it only cemented his connection. That’s when he decided he was going to become a Pastor. No, Marcus stepped in and raised me when he was only nineteen so I wouldn’t have to go to foster care. He’s the only family I have left. I’m not about to turn this car around, and turn my back on my brother, not for Connor. Not for anyone.
I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand, take a shaky breath and pull back out onto the dark road. I try not to speed away, but I want to put distance between me and Connor. I feel like the sooner I can put some miles between us, the quicker my heart can move on.
Because that worked so well when he joined the SEALs, right? Totally over it.
I click on the radio and try to let my thoughts slip away as the pop songs blend together. Soon the tunnel of darkness lifts and street lights of the city guide my way back to my house. Well, it was my parents’ house, but when they passed they left it to Marcus. I’ve never left. I came home from the hospital to this house and still eat breakfast at the same table that I grew up munching on Fruity Pebbles at.
I pull into the driveway and hit the lock button on my keychain as I make my way to the front door.
When I walk in, I almost scream. I stifle the yelp that wants to escape my lips as I jump a little. “Marcus, you scared me. Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
I look over at my brother, slumped in a living room chair near the window. There are no lights on. No television blaring. He’s just lost in the darkness.
“Where were you?” He doesn’t answer my question. I can see him look up at me. I can feel his eyes on me, even without any lights on.
I shut the door and slide my hand over the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow. “Don’t you worry about what I’ve been doing, you just worry about you. Why are you sitting here like this? It’s creepy.” I kick off my shoes and walk into the room.
Marcus doesn’t move. He just bores into me with his stare. “You went to see him, didn’t you? After I told you not to.” His voice trembles the air around me, like the little shocks you feel before a huge earthquake is about to hit.
“I said goodbye,” I hold up my hand. “Listen, I didn’t know about what happened with Sandra and him. You never told me about that.”
Marcus tilts his head and his eyes soften, “He told you?” Confusion flickers on his face like the dancing shadows of a candle.
“Yeah, and I told him we couldn’t see each other anymore.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat. The one that’s threatening to erupt my emotions like lava from a volcano, spilling from my face until I’m empty inside. I’ve known that I’ve loved Connor McLean since I was thirteen-years-old. I’ve dreamed of him holding me, wanting me, loving me. And now, when I finally got a taste of that fantasy, it’s been ripped from my heart.
“Good,” Marcus looks out our living room window, but there’s nothing to see in the darkness. All I see is his reflection staring back at us. “You know what they say, a leopard can’t change his spots,” he sighs wearily. Suddenly, his reflection looks a lot older. Like he’s aged thirty years.
“Marcus, do you want to talk about what happened? I’m sorry about this,” I step towards him, but he quickly jumps up from the chair and walks around me.
“No need. It sounds like everything is sorted out,” he clears his throat and makes his way to the stairs. “I’m tired, Lottie, I’m going to bed, okay?”
“Sure, I understand.” I nod and watch him shuffle heavily up the stairs like an eighty-year-old man.
The tears I’ve been holding back can’t be contained anymore. They prickle at the corners of my eyes and slip down my cheeks as I head downstairs to my bedroom. I can’t stop them from flowing, from mourning a love I’ve always wanted, but could never have. My heart bleeds for a man that can never be mine.
11|Charlotte
2 Months Later
I shift the car into park and take a deep breath, scanning the lot before I exit the vehicle. I drove to the pharmacy on the edge of town so I wouldn’t run into anyone I know. I grab my purse and step out into the sunshine, throwing back my shoulders and lifting my head up high.
Not that I’m worried, obviously.
I just don’t want to get any rumors swirling at the office. I’m still six weeks away from getting my full benefits package and I don’t want anyone finding a lame excuse to send me packing just so they don’t have to pay them out to someone who…
I walk into the cool store and avoid the eyes of the other customers. I’m not here to make friends. I’m on a mission. I swerve down the aisle with the feminine products and search in vain. Where are they? I don’t see them anywhere.
My shoulders tense up and I make my way up the next aisle, full of condoms, lube, and... there we go, pregnancy tests.
I almost want to laugh at the set up. Almost. It’s like the stock person had a grand design idea when he put the boxes of pee sticks next to all the other stuff. Like he was saying “If you don’t use these, you might need this!”
My throat squeezes tight and I peer at the tests out of the corner of my eye, like I’m afraid that I’ll make my suspicions come true if I look at them straight on. Like somehow, by buying one of these things, I’m going to make real what my sore boobs and early morning nausea has been hinting at. As if the little lines that appear will make the pregnancy real, not the little baby that might be growing inside me right now.
I realize I’m holding my belly and drop my hand, snapping out of my daze.
What am I going to do if I am pregnant with Connor’s child? I know, with absolute certainty that it would be his. I haven’t even kissed another man since I last saw him, when was that? Two months ago. Damn. I haven’t had my period in over two months? Do I even need this test?
A groan escapes my lips and a woman down the aisle gives me a look of pity before pretending I don’t exist again.
Thanks lady, you don’t even know the half of it. If I am carrying Connor’s child, what am I going to do? I don’t want to do it alone, but I don’t know if he’ll even want me back after I took off that night and never returned.
He called night and day the first week, but I didn’t know what to say to him. I told myself that I’d get over him in time, but the truth is he got over me. The calls dropped off. Not that I blame him. There’s just too much bad blood, too much history. Connor can have any woman he wants, I’m sure he’s moved on with a few of them by now.
Ugh, Marcus. I can’t even think about him right now. I push away the thoughts and pluck a pink box from the shelf. This one promises to give the earliest results in a digital readout that tells you how far along you are. It’s pricey, but it comes with two tests. I’d rather buy two expensive tests and get it right, than spend five times less on the cheap ones and not be sure.
Should I call him? I’ve thought about it every single day since I walked out. I run my hand over my hair and sigh, let’s just tackle one crisis at a time. Take the test and then figure things out with Con
nor.
I begin to walk up the aisle when something makes me stop in my tracks.
“Lottie! I mean, Charlotte, wait up,” I turn and my mouth hangs open when I spot Connor coming toward me.
Butterflies explode into a million beating wings in my chest as ice runs through my veins. He can’t see the test! He’ll know everything before I can even think of how to talk to him about it. Without thinking, I stuff the pink box in my purse and sling it back over my hip.
“Connor,” my voice is shaky and my hands are sweating. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I try to sound casual but it comes out more like an accusation.
“I came into town for a supply run,” he nods to the soap and shampoo in his basket. “What about you?” He looks down at my empty hands.
“Uh, yeah, same, gonna get some shampoo,” I lie. I haven’t been to a pharmacy yet that sells good shampoo or conditioner for black hair.
“I should go,” I turn but Connor circles his fingers around my arm.
“No, Charlotte, please. I can’t stop thinking about you. Why didn’t you answer my calls? I need to talk to you, give me a chance, please?”
I whirl back around on my heel and get locked in his intense eyes. All I’ve thought about is him too. I want to talk to him more than he can possibly know. I want to tell him that I miss him. That I’m scared. That I need him and always have. That my life is empty without him but complicated with him. I need to spill it all before I burst at the seams.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
12|Connor
I rub my hand over my scruff and look at all the sterile boxes of Band-Aids and bottles of pills surrounding us. “Not here, please? Come back to my place and let’s really talk.”
I watch her eyebrow lift cynically. “Go to your place to talk? Come on Connor, I’m not stupid,” she purses her thick lips together and looks at the floor.
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