A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  “Yeah, it’s a title fight. It’ll be on HBO and pay-per-view. I know Drew isn’t a big boxing fan, but you guys should come anyway. Paul got like six tickets.” He raises his perfectly manicured eyebrows and puts the box down on my desk. “Perks of working for a music producer.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “I guess so.”

  “So what do you say?”

  “I, um, I can’t go to New York,” I say over my pounding heart. “I’ve got way too much to do for the exhibit.”

  “That’s why you have me. We’ve got it covered. Besides, it’s still six weeks away.”

  “Five and a half to be exact. And Drew probably has to work anyway.” I try to keep my voice even, but my heart is still pounding inside my chest and my scattered thoughts are stammering around my head.

  Sebastian gives me a slanted look. “Drew always has to work. In fact, as I recall, it was the very reason for your little breakup not so long ago,” he says. “I thought his work demands were no longer supposed to interfere with your ability to enjoy life. With or without him.”

  “That’s not what this is.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Mmm, really? How?”

  “It just isn’t. I don’t want to go without him.”

  “Oh, come on, Lucy. We can go to the Met and get some inspiration for the show. It’s just what we need right now.”

  “I’ll be a third wheel, Bas.”

  “Have Paul and I ever made you feel like a third wheel?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. I adore them both, and I love hanging out with them.

  “Then, come with us.”

  I pick at my thumbnail. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I just can’t, Sebastian,” I say abruptly. “Maybe some other time.”

  “Fine,” he says, holding his hands up. “But if you change your mind…”

  I nod. “Thanks for the invitation. We’ll go somewhere after the exhibit is over, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, you know, I was actually just going to paint this afternoon. So if you want to cut out early for the day, it’s fine.”

  “You sure? You don’t need me for anything else?”

  “No, not today.”

  He smiles and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You know, you’re sort of the best boss ever, right?”

  “Don’t forget it.” I narrow my eyes and force a small smile. “Now go, enjoy the rest of the afternoon with Paul.”

  “Okay, Okay. You don’t have to twist my arm.” He winks. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  When Sebastian leaves, I fall into my desk chair, drop my face to my hands, and take a deep breath to clear my head. I quickly unplug my laptop and shove it into my desk drawer. I’ve Googled Sam so many times, I’m surprised the letters of his name haven’t worn off my keyboard yet. It’s a form of self-torture I’m far too familiar with. A game of Russian roulette where the search button is the trigger, delivering a blast to the head each time I see a new girl hanging off his arm. He has varied tastes, but his favorite flavors are model, actress, and volleyball player, in no particular order.

  I get up and grab my painting clothes off the back of the door, exchanging my pleated cream pants and blue silk top for my old ratty cutoffs and paint-covered T-shirt. I’m desperate for the solace only a brush will give me as I walk barefoot to a six-foot-tall canvas in the back of the studio. I grab its wide edge and shuffle it across the cement floor, holding it upright between my knees as I drag it to a spot where I like to paint.

  I scan my paint cart and begin selecting various tubes and sizing up my paintbrushes, laying them out carefully as I go. I squeeze several small mounds of paint onto my palette and pull the colors together with my palette knife, blending and mixing them until they’re just right.

  I begin painting with large brushstrokes, thinking of Sam.

  I wonder if he ever thinks about me.

  I wonder if he’s okay.

  I wonder if he hates me.

  I keep painting, until the only thing left to wonder about is if I’ll ever stop thinking about him.

  Lucy, Sixteen Years Old

  I hold Sam’s hand tightly as he leads me down a sidewalk adjacent to a chain-link fence that surrounds the airport a few blocks from our high school. “Where are we going?” I ask warily.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Well, I hope it’s somewhere we can study, because you have a test on King Richard tomorrow, and I have a paper to write.”

  He looks down at me and grins. “We can do whatever we want there.”

  “You know, those dimples will only get you so far in life.” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “They worked on you, didn’t they?”

  “It was more than your dimples, but yes.”

  He pulls me off the sidewalk and pushes me up against the fence. “More than my dimples? Hmm…Was it my eyes?” he asks playfully.

  I gaze up at his beautiful eyes. They’re a mix of brown and blue. The left one is more brown, but it fades to blue on one side and has a gold ring in the center. The right one is mostly blue with brown around the edges and a matching gold ring. “I love your eyes, but no, that wasn’t it either.”

  “It must have been my body, then.” He can’t even say it without laughing.

  I laugh with him and push against his chest, which is like pushing on a wall. “Sam.” I shake my head.

  “No? Well, maybe it was my brains.”

  “I love your brains too. You’re very smart, even if you dismiss it. But no, that’s not it either.”

  “All right,” he says, gazing into my eyes. “What on earth could possibly make someone like you love someone like me?”

  The corners of my mouth turn up because the answer is so obvious. I place my hand on his chest and say, “Your heart.”

  His eyes narrow with curiosity.

  “It’s strong and fierce and brave. You’ve always made me feel so safe…and loved.”

  He drops his forehead to mine. “I do love you, Lamb. And I’ll always protect you.”

  The corners of my mouth turn up again. “Because you have the heart of a lion.”

  “Like King Richard?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You’ve been studying!”

  He laughs softly and pushes on the chain-link fence, creating an opening where the metal wire has been cut. “After you.”

  “Sam, are we allowed in there?”

  He doesn’t respond and I know that the answer is no. But I bend down and slip through the opening in the fence anyway, scraping my jeans and catching my flannel shirt on the metal wire. Sam unhooks it and follows behind me. I take his hand again, and he leads me to a place on the wiry brown grass while I examine the damage to my shirt. It now has a hole in the back to match the one in the front that was there when I bought it from the consignment shop. I take it off and tie it around my waist over my white T-shirt, letting the bright November sun warm my bare arms.

  Sam drops his book bag on the ground and pulls a tattered-looking sheet out of it. He spreads it out on the dormant grass and sits down.

  “You had this whole thing planned out, didn’t you?”

  He smiles and pulls me down next to him. “Just wait a minute,” he says, pointing to a plane in the distance that’s taxiing toward the runway. We’re at the opposite end, directly in its flight path.

  “Sam, is this safe?”

  “As long as it takes off it is.” He laughs.

  I grimace at the thought of the plane barreling down the runway and plowing right over us.

  “Here it comes,” he says excitedly.

  I can hear the engines roaring as it gains speed and charges toward us. We’re on the opposite side of a small hill at the end of the runway, so hopefully the pilot won’t be able to see us. I can only imagine what kind of trouble we’d get in if we got caught. I glance at Sam, and he smiles at me with eager eyes. He’s worth the risk. I inhale a deep breath as the plane races d
own the runway.

  It’s getting closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  I squeeze Sam’s hand as the plane lifts off the runway into the air like a feather. I cover my ears as it roars over our heads, but I can’t take my eyes off it. I lean back on my hands and watch the wheels retract, tipping my chin up until I’m lying on my back watching it upside down as it disappears into the sky. “Wow.” I drop my head to the side and look at Sam lying beside me. “That was so cool.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  I smile and roll onto his chest and drop my mouth to his. “I do.”

  He reaches for my hips and pulls me all the way on top of him.

  I sit up and place my hands on his firm stomach. “We have to study. Well, you do. I need to write a paper.”

  He rests his hands on my thighs and squints up at me. “I’m too happy to study.”

  I lean forward and kiss him again. “I’m always happy when I’m with you. If I only studied when I wasn’t, I’d flunk out of school.”

  He crinkles his eyes. “Good point.”

  I climb off him and reach for my book bag.

  Sam watches me, but he doesn’t sit up. He doesn’t like to study. He doesn’t like school, period. But he tries, for me. One of the few things I remember about my mom is that she wanted me to get an education. She told me that if I made good grades, I could get out of Brighton Park. She hated what this place did to her. She wanted a better life for me.

  Sometimes I still get angry at her for leaving me like she did, but I know that she was sick. The drugs ruined her. Sam and I promised each other that we’ll never do drugs. Sometimes I think she’s watching over me and put him in my life, because without Sam, I’m not sure how long I’d be able to avoid it. Drugs are all around us, all the time. Kids are usually buying them from other kids at school. And they can’t afford it, so they steal to get the cash. It’s just a big ugly cycle. The same one that sucked the life out of my mom and put my dad in prison. So I’m going to get my education and get the hell out of this place, just like she wanted me to. And I’m taking Sam with me.

  “Come on,” I say to him, dragging his book bag into his lap. “I’m going to start my paper. Why don’t you answer the study questions at the end of the chapter…and then we’ll see where it goes.” I press my lips together to cover a smile.

  He shakes his head. “I think that’s extortion.”

  “Not exactly, but I’m glad your government class is rubbing off.”

  He grins and pulls out his history book.

  Both of us sit quietly, studying and writing, and looking up whenever a plane takes off. By the time the fourth one rumbles overhead, I shout, “This may not be the best place to study.”

  “I think you might be right.” He closes his book and tosses it aside, tackling me to the ground with kisses.

  “Sam!”

  He holds my hands above my head so that I can’t move, and he kisses my neck.

  “You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

  “You said it yourself. It’s too noisy to study.”

  “It is. So we should probably go somewhere else. Like a library, maybe?”

  “I’ll make you a deal.” He rubs his nose against mine and looks into my eyes.

  “You’re going to try to coerce me now?” I laugh.

  “Stop worrying about books and papers and studying, and just be with me, right here, right now…and then we’ll see where it goes.”

  I grin and shake my head, but before I can say anything, his tongue silences my retort with long, smooth strokes that fill my head with clouds and my heart with sunshine.

  Another plane roars over us again, but neither of us look up.

  Chapter 2

  Lucy

  “Are you coming to bed?” Drew asks from the doorway of the theater room, where I’m watching Sam fight Arturo Moreno for the gold.

  “Yeah”—I glance up at him from the giant TV screen—“in a little bit.”

  “Why are you watching an Olympic boxing match from two years ago?”

  “Sam Cole is fighting this weekend and Sebastian and Paul have tickets. They invited us to go.”

  “Here?”

  “No, it’s in New York City, actually. Madison Square Garden.”

  “New York? Luc, I have to work this weekend. I can’t go to New York.”

  “And that’s exactly what I told Sebastian.” I give him a small, accepting smile.

  He drops his hands on the couch and hovers over me. “You mad?”

  I shrug and look up at him. “I could go by myself.”

  He narrows his dark blue eyes and runs his fingers through chocolate-brown hair. “By yourself?” He walks around the couch and plops down next to me. “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?” I widen my eyes playfully. “Are you afraid I can’t handle myself in the big city?” I smirk. “I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman. And I grew up in Brighton Park, remember?”

  “Oh, I know you can handle yourself.” He pulls me into his arms. “I just don’t want you to ever be in a situation where you have to.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be with Paul and Sebastian the whole time.”

  “Paul and Sebastian don’t look at you the way other men do. They don’t know the kinds of things that are going through their heads.” He pulls my chin up and looks in my eyes. “You are so beautiful. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.”

  I look away because the guilt seeping beneath my skin feels as if it’s about to reveal itself through my eyes.

  Drew sighs heavily and drops his hand. “Okay.”

  I look up at him, feeling a strange mix of excitement and angst. “Okay, you won’t mind if I go without you?” I ask, knowing good and well that I shouldn’t go, that I shouldn’t want to go. But I do. I desperately do. As soon as Sebastian mentioned Sam, all I could think about was going. I had an opportunity to see him fight a year ago, which I passed up under stronger resolve, and I’ve regretted it ever since. Part of me hopes that if I see him in person, it will quiet the unrest I feel in my soul whenever I think about him.

  “I’ll miss you while you’re gone, but no, I don’t mind if you go.” Drew rolls his eyes playfully. “Besides, I know you have a thing for that Sam Cole guy.”

  The guilt winds its long ugly fingers around my neck and slowly tightens its grip.

  “Are you”—I clear my throat—“are you sure? I won’t go if you really don’t want me to.” Say you don’t want me to.

  He smiles softly and reaches for my hand. “I know I’ve been working a lot, especially with the new restaurant opening in Philadelphia. It isn’t lost on me that you haven’t said a single word about how much I’ve been traveling, especially with all the wedding planning.” He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of my knuckles. “Not that I could get a word in edgewise with Momma in charge.” He laughs and gives me a sincere look. “You know I’m doing it for us, right? For our future?”

  I bob my head.

  “It won’t always be like this.”

  “I know,” I say over the doubt that fills my mind.

  “Before Daddy died, he told me the most important thing a man can do is provide for his family. That’s what he did for me and Momma, and that’s what I’m trying to do for you and our kids. One day.”

  The thought of kids jerks my back up off the couch with an unexpected pinch in my chest.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I smile and ignore the unwelcome feeling.

  “Go to New York with Sebastian and Paul. Have a fun time. Just promise you’ll be safe, okay?”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “I love you…so much.”

  “I know. I love you too.”

  He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow.” He stands up, pausing halfway to kiss the top of my head. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  “I won’t.�
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  Drew leaves the room, and I stare at the stranger on the TV who resembles the person I used to know, except that now he’s huge and has tattoos everywhere—down his left arm and across his chest. There’s a fierce-looking lion roaring over his heart and the phrase Pain Is Fleeting scrolled in cursive beneath the curve of his collarbone.

  When Sam was arrested for drug possession, I was devastated. He broke the very foundation we were built on. He betrayed everything we stood for. I wasn’t just hurt, I was shattered. The Sam I knew and loved was gone, and I was alone…again. At seventeen, I lost the only thing I ever wanted—a future with Sam. And for a while, I lost myself. I began ditching school and eventually I stopped going altogether. But as the months passed, my sorrow turned to anger and then determination. I refused to turn out like my mother. I wouldn’t break my promise just because Sam broke his. So the day I turned eighteen, I left the broken place that raised me and got a job in the city waiting tables at La Pêche.

  The restaurant was elegant and always smelled like the most delicious food. It was so very different from anything I had ever experienced. The people who came in looked like celebrities. They dressed beautifully, they spoke beautifully, they smiled beautifully. I was definitely getting a strong dose of how the other half lived. I didn’t want to be like them—I cringed just putting on my perfectly pressed black pants and crisp button-down shirt every day—but I couldn’t deny the charm of a life that seemed so easy. A life that came with houses and cars and clothes that weren’t purchased at secondhand stores. A life where kids went to good schools and could paint to their hearts’ content. A life without thugs and drugs and guns. A life that I found myself wanting more and more.

  I was making enough money waitressing to pay for the dilapidated apartment I rented, but not enough to support my habit. Painting had become my hobby turned therapy, turned obsession. It was as necessary as breathing. It was the only way I could organize all the clutter inside my head. So, in an effort to turn my obsession into a means of extra income, I got my GED and applied for the Savannah College of Art and Design in Atlanta. With the help of several student grants, I spent the next four years immersed in classes, learning new techniques, like painting with oils—my favorite—and art history. I graduated from SCAD with a bachelor of fine arts in painting, with a minor in art history. But that didn’t exactly equate to a career in painting. So I began entering my artwork in local contests around the city.