To Be With You

by Opal Mellon

  N: You have anything to flex with twerp?

  S: Hm, I don’t know. More than you probably.

  N: Oh?

  S: I AM a guy Nick

  N: Don’t call me that.

  S: Rude.

  N: Well I guess it’s time for bed.

  S: I suppose. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened before? When we were kids?

  N: Sleep well Sean.

  S: You too. Use those muscles to fight off the bedbugs.

  N: Gross.

  S: Yeah, that’s why you need your muscles.

  N: Would you fight them for me?

  S: Sure I would. Would be kind of inappropriate for me to be in your bed though.

  N: True that.

  S: But if you insisted.

  N: Go to bed!

  S: You first.

  N: Fine. Goodnight.

  S: Sweet dreams.

  N: Unlikely.

  S: :(

  N: lol. Goodnight. Love you.

  S: You too.

  Nicole is offline.

  Sean is offline.

  Sean closed the chat and sat back in his chair with an extended sigh of relief. He’d thought he was done when he’d typed “my hero,” the exact same thing he’d said earlier in the day as John. Was he trying to get caught? Well, he wouldn’t put it past his subconscious given how much he hated deceiving Nicole. Maybe he was trying to slip up so it would all be over.

  But he didn’t want it to be over. Nicole was being more open with him than ever before. He’d almost gotten her to confide in him about what happened when she was younger. He hoped someday she’d feel like she could share that. Maybe one day if she let him in, she’d see he was worth trusting with everything, not just friendship. Maybe she’d see that real friends accept everything about you. Maybe once she worked through all of that, she’d be able to stop going for such bad guys. Then she wouldn’t need to hire escorts anymore. Then what?

  It’s not like he could meet her after that. Would he have to wait another decade so she didn’t recognize him when they met? It would be agony, after getting to see her so much, but he could do it. It would be enough getting to hear how much happier she was, being with a man who treated her well and loved her the way she deserved. He was sure that would be enough for him. He smiled and got up to get ready for bed, burying any uneasiness, any jealousy, any worry, under that distant future happiness and slept well that night.

  Across town, Nicole scrolled through the chat. How stupid could he have been? Was he trying to get caught, saying the exact same thing John had said earlier? She should have known Sean was just not suited to being a sneak and a liar. Sean had too much of the moral integrity that made it hard to practice.

  Why did she keep asking if he would fight for her? It had never mattered before. Was she seeing him differently because he was so tall now? Because he was so close now? Maybe she was just responding to the way he kept interfering. She moved to the window to watch the water play on the beach below, the waves in the moonlight begging her to come out and walk into them, just keep walking till she met the horizon. But the beach probably wasn’t safe at night. Someday, if she found the right person, they could walk there together. Maybe after this whole host thing was over she could go there with Sean. They’d have to renegotiate their friendship, but somehow they’d make it out together, right?

  She stayed at the window watching the water, enjoying the way the moonlight created silver ribbons at the crest of the waves right before they crashed into the shore. She opened the window a bit and breathed in the sea breeze, imagining she was out in it, that it was safe to walk wherever she wanted whenever she wanted.

  She spent the next few hours before sleep contemplating whether it was worse to stay inside your whole life or take a risk and go out and love someone.

  Chapter Four

  Nicole woke up more tired than she’d gone to bed. The nightmares from years back had resurfaced, and stalked her more steadily every day. Maybe seeing Sean was bringing things to the surface. Maybe she should schedule with her shrink.

  She walked into the kitchen for coffee and saw a note from her aunt by the sink. “Empty dishwasher. Tell Melanie hi if I’m not back from meeting in time.”

  Nicole sighed, picked up the note, and dropped it in the trash before moving to open the dishwasher. Before she’d moved more than a few cups, the doorbell rang.

  Nicole set down the cup in her hand and ran for the door. She opened it and Melanie stood smiling behind it, looking like a younger, prettier version of herself. She held up her arms and pulled Nicole in tightly, gave her a casual kiss on the cheek that Nicole was too shy to return, and let go to look her over.

  “You’re looking great.” Melanie said. “I like how you’re doing your hair now. The curls are pretty.”

  “Just wish it was as pretty as yours.”

  “It’s prettier, I think.” Melanie touched her own, patting it down so it could spring back.

  “Not possible,” Nicole said, resisting the urge to touch it. “Come in. Let’s not keep you out here on the porch.”

  “Thanks.” Melanie said. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Settling on the larger couch, Melanie asked, “So what’s new, Nicole girl?”

  “Not much Mel. How’s school?” Nicole reached behind her to pull the blinds down so the sun wasn’t in Melanie’s eyes.

  “It’s school,” Melanie said. “I’m more interested in hearing about my famous writer cousin.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m famous.”

  “I will then,” Melanie said. “It’s more exciting. Are you working on a new book yet?”

  “Yup, keeps me from going nuts worrying about the last one.”

  “I still think it’s so amazing I have a cousin who is a writer.”

  “I think it’s amazing that I have a cousin as cool as you are,” Nicole said.

  “Stop dodging.”

  “I’m not. Writing is my job. It’s boring to talk about.” Nicole yawned for emphasis. “How about boys, anyone interesting at Washington State?”

  “Not really,” Melanie said. “The freshman boys are really ridiculous.”

  “Yeesh, you make me feel really old. And I’m only twenty-six.”

  “Should I call you Aunt Nicole then?”

  “No.” Nicole scowled at her. “And you’re right about freshman boys. Avoid them like the plague.”

  “I will.” Melanie smiled. “The sophomore guys are hotter anyway.”

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  Melanie fidgeted. “It’s tough though. Most people are drinking and partying.”

  “Just makes the curve easier to beat, right?” Nicole said, aware that Melanie was Christian and that posed certain issues at college sometimes. She’d tried college for a while, but she’d gotten homesick, and Aunt Mary had been lonely, and it had just worked out to move back in.

  “I guess,” Melanie said. “So what about you? Any loooove on the horizon?”

  “No. Well,” Nicole said. She tried to decide if it was wise to tell Melanie what was going on. “If I told you something no one else knows, that no one else can know, could you keep it a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cause if you can’t, that’s okay; I just won’t put you in that position by telling you. I know you hate secrets.”

  “Not if they are about boys. Is it about boys?”

  “Ish.”

  “Okay then. Good enough.”

  “Let’s go up to my room.” Nicole picked up a bag, and Melanie followed her to her room. They sat on her bed, side by side.

  “I’ve been hiring male escorts.” Nicole decided to put the worst out before she was too chicken to say anymore.

  “You what?” Melanie said. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. I’ve been paying men to go out with me. Sort of.”

  “Like a prostitute? A gigolo?” Melanie sounded choked. “Nicole, I know you aren’t very confident, but you are way
too good for that.”

  “It’s not like that.” Nicole sighed and grabbed a pillow to torture on her lap, since this would be a hard conversation.

  “What’s it like then?”

  “You know I have a hard time meeting nice guys,” Nicole said. “Being attracted to them, anyway.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie flushed. “It’s not your fault though.”

  “No, it’s just that I’m at the age where a lot of my friends are getting married, and I need dates to their weddings, but at the same time, just kind of need a break from relationships right now.”

  “I see.”

  “So I use a club where I can hire an escort to come be my date, no expectations, I don’t have to worry about anything happening, I’m in full control.”

  “Control freak much?”

  “Maybe,” Nicole said. “At this point I’d rather have too much control than too little. And there are the books to think of, too. I need to stay focused.”

  “I can’t complain there. Me and my friends are dying to see what happens in the next one.”

  “Blargh, driving me nuts. Makes me want to kill my characters off.”

  “Don’t do that!” Melanie said. “My friends would disown me!”

  “Fine, I won’t then.”

  “I’m kidding,” Melanie said. “But I see what you mean about focus and I can see why you are doing the escort thing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “As long as they aren’t sleazy guys taking advantage of needy women.”

  “No, nothing like that at all,” Nicole said, pressing her advantage with Melanie’s approval to bring up Sean. “But that’s not the main part of the secret.”

  “It isn’t?” Melanie said. “Yikes. What’s the rest?”

  “Do you remember Sean?”

  “Yeah, you used to talk about him all the time, especially after you first moved. Your best friend right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve stayed in touch? Where is he now anyway?”

  “Yes, we’ve stayed in touch,” Nicole said. “I’m not sure where he is. That’s the thing.”

  “Wait … what does this have to do with the escorts?”

  “Oh well. Just that he doesn’t approve,” Nicole said, hating that she was going to dodge it after all. Coward.

  “Ah,” Melanie said. “And do you want him to?”

  “No.”

  “Is he hot now?”

  “I don’t know, we just write.”

  “What?” Melanie gaped at her. “It’s like a chick flick: it’s a guy you were best friends with that you’ve been talking to for thirteen years—”

  “Writing to—”

  “And you haven’t even seen what he looks like?”

  “He doesn’t have a Facebook.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Melanie said. “What’s the problem?”

  “It just never came up. We don’t need that.”

  “I see.” Melanie stared at her for a while, and they sat in silence.

  Nicole didn’t blame Melanie. There was a lot to think about. Nicole suddenly felt stupid and awkward for laying all of this at the feet of her young cousin who really didn’t need to hear about her problems. She knew her aunt already worried about her, and didn’t want Melanie in an awkward spot of knowing something they didn’t and not being able to expose it if questioned. Oh well, if it got exposed, so be it; she’d rather weather that than have Melanie feel awkward or secretive around her parents.

  “I’m sorry to put all of this on you.”

  “It’s fine.” Melanie put her arm around Nicole. “No, I’m actually really glad. You’re always there for me, and I never get to hear your problems. It’s actually a relief that you let someone in like that. It’s actually kind of an honor.”

  “I’m not sure about that. But thanks for listening.”

  “So are you going to hire an escort this week? Can I see one?”

  “Probably not, but I may be going to the club later, if you want to go.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. You just need to be discreet.”

  “Of course!” Melanie rubbed her hands together. “I bet they’re all hot.”

  “I guess that’s kind of the point, but there’s a lot more to them than that,” Nicole said. “They’re nice guys, and they’ve already kind of become my friends. So you have to treat them well.”

  “Of course. I’m sure I’ll be too nervous to do anything else.”

  “They have a way of making you feel really comfortable. Well, there’s one kind of awkward, quiet one, but everyone likes him for it.”

  “What do you mean quiet?”

  “Just not really what you would ever think of for an escort.”

  “How so?”

  “Just kind of, reluctant. Not very flirtatious. Kind of gruff.”

  “Oooh, that sounds hot. I bet he’ll be my favorite.”

  “Get in line. That’s what all the other girls think too.”

  “So who is your favorite?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe Justin.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Funny. Gorgeous. Blond.”

  “Of course.” Melanie rolled her eyes back.

  “Hey.”

  “Well I’ll reserve judgment till I meet them all. What is the shy one’s name?”

  “Sean, no, John.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, whenever I say his name, it sounds so much like Sean, and that’s a name I’ve said a lot, so it just comes out really easily.”

  “Speaking of awkward, do you do that in person?”

  “Yeah, sometimes,” she said. “It confuses people, but luckily, they are being paid to make me feel comfortable.”

  Melanie laughed. “True.”

  They both started at the sound of the front door downstairs. “Well, we better go down and say hi.”

  “Yup.”

  Nicole thanked Melanie for listening, Melanie brushed it aside with a hug, and they went downstairs together.

  ~ ~ ~

  Later that night, as they got ready for the club, Nicole considered giving up makeup altogether. “I hate mascara,” she said, reaching up to try to separate the spider-leg clumps in her lashes. “What is the point of spreading tar all over your eyelashes, directly next to one of the most sensitive parts of your body? Who came up with that?”

  “I don’t know, but I love it,” Melanie said, blinking at the mirror with full, dark lashes. “You’ll get the hang of it.” She stuck the wand in the tube and pulled it out, turning to Nicole. “Would you like me to do yours?”

  “No,” Nicole said, shying away. “I already have too much on.”

  “Not too much, just clumped.”

  “Fine, well, I’m washing off and starting over.”

  “And then I’ll re-do it for you.”

  “Fine.”

  Melanie went to change the song on her iPod, and Nicole washed off the mascara. “I didn’t even know you had started wearing makeup,” Melanie said, handing Nicole a face towel.

  “I didn’t,” Nicole said, using it to gently dab away the water. “But I felt really stupid going to a club with gorgeous guys without any. You should see the other girls there. Really done up.”

  “You look great without makeup.”

  “I look better with it. A little anyway.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Plus, it’s like war paint.”

  “What?”

  “It’s like having your game face on. Like you know you are at your best, and when people look at you to judge you, you know you are at least using your physical beauty at its best.”

  “I know what you mean, I think. I hate running into people when my hair and makeup aren’t done. People are so judgy.”

  “Yeah,” Nicole said. “So if I’m going out to be around other humans, which, let’s be honest, isn’t as much as a lot of people, I like to be ready for as little criticism as possible.”

  Nicole rubb
ed a finger vigorously over some eye shadow that she’d blended badly. Stupid mucky paint.

  “Nicole, a brush works better for blending.”

  “It does? But my finger is sturdier, and this stuff won’t move.”

  “I know. Let me show you.” Melanie reached in her bag, found a short, dense dome tip brush and brought it to Nicole’s face. “Look down.”

  Nicole did and Melanie gently applied a little more shadow to each crease, a little more to each lid, and then used the brush to blend the two together in short, fast movements. When she was done she let Nicole turn back to the mirror.

  Nicole looked once then shot closer to the mirror to investigate further. “How did you do that?” She pulled her lid down on one side to study it. “Amazing. It’s like art.”

  “I guess makeup is. That’s what my mom taught me anyway.”

  Nicole frowned. “I wish mine had been around to teach me.”

  Melanie rummaged in her bag.

  “You know, but I like being pretty,” Nicole said.

  “Me too. I wonder why, it’s not useful at all. Probably something about societal pressure to conform to rigid gender expectations.” Melanie said.

  “Stop being a psych major.”

  Melanie grinned. “Are you sure? I’ll give you free therapy as my first patient.”

  “No thanks,” Nicole said. “I’ve got one.”

  Nicole remembered the shrink her aunt had taken her to after the move. Not all therapists were created equal. That one had seemed too focused on turning her pain into symptoms so he could treat her. How can you make symptoms out of heartache? And how can you tell a thirteen-year-old girl to look into what’s hurting her for the purpose of being cured? She was sure that he meant well, but Nicole didn’t know how you were supposed to cure a disease caused by someone else’s behavior. It was like asking a mouse in a trap to lift the metal squashing his head and get out, so people didn’t have to listen to his squeaks anymore.

  Nicole tried to avoid the emotions accompanying the memory, because she was worried her one eye would start crying. Then they’d have to re-do all of her makeup again. Stupid one eye. The rest of her face would be totally fine, and tears would just fall slowly, like she’d sprung a leak in her wall of denial.

  “Hold on a minute,” Nicole said, pulling away, leaving the room to dab her eye in private.