Break Away: A Midwest Small Town Romance

by Vanessa Sheets

  I push the memories back down where I like them to stay and pull my truck into the driveway of the bitch’s house. I am eager to be rid of Crew, but I have no idea that as soon as I walk through the door on that rusted white and blue trailer, my life will never be the same.

  I step into my living room and hear my mother laughing at the familiar voice of a man. I have heard that voice before. Last night. It was the man she brought home from the bar. My mom is doing dishes in just a baggy tee. Standing behind her is the man with his arms wrapped around her waist. He is kissing her on the neck, saying God knows what in her ear and I think I may have just vomited a little in my mouth. She throws her head back and laughs. The screen door slams shut behind me, making them both jump and turn around. She pushes him away and starts drying her hands on her shirt.

  “Well, Sof you're home early today." She has a look of surprise on her face.

  “No, mom, actually I get home every day at this time,” I mumble under my breath, “You're just usually sleeping." I can see that she can hear the sarcasm in my voice when she darts her eyes towards the man a few times.

  “Hi, Sofia. I don't think we have formally met yet. I am Crew Jackson; we bumped into each other in the hall last night." He reaches into our fridge and pulls out a can of beer. I glance at my mother, who is already drinking one.

  Crew stands about six feet tall, which makes our tiny trailer seem even smaller. His black hair is only inches from touching the ceiling. He looks like he works outside. Years of exposure to the sun has darkened and aged his skin and when he smiles only the left side of his lip curls up. He looks to be in his thirties.

  “'I see you made it home in one-piece last night, Crew." It’s not a question of concern, more of irritation that he is standing in my kitchen. My mother shoots me a look of STOP, or I am going to make your life a living hell! I am not going there with her, not after the day I had, so I give him a closed-mouth, fake smile.

  "It is nice to meet you, Crew Jackson."

  I drop my book bag next to the kitchen table and start for the couch.

  That is when I see him.

  Sitting on our worn-out green chair in the corner of our living room is a man. But not just any man.

  He looks so out of place, surrounded by our torn-up couch, our TV that has to be at least twenty years old, and our floral smoke-stained curtains that cover our cracked living room window.

  My eyes catch his and I have to look away.

  Oh, shit. Down girl.

  As I try to tame my naughty thoughts, my eyes take in the mess that is scattered all over the floor. I quickly begin picking up Enzo’s toys, clothes, and a handful of empty snack wrappers. I can’t help my eyes from being drawn to him and a few times I catch him looking at me, as well. I try to busy myself with what I should have done last night but the urge to melt into the floor starts to overwhelm me. I just want to disappear from this awkward situation that I have come home to. And whoever the hell this man is who’s in my living room.

  He’s older, with dark, sandy brown hair that is thick and tousled. His face is strong and defined, with features that look like they have been chiseled from granite. Soft, thick lips peek out of a five o’clock shadow and I wonder if they are actually as soft as they look. His bewitching blue eyes dart from me to the hot mess that is standing in my kitchen. His skin looks like it has been French kissed by the sun, and his tight white t-shirt shows off traces of a defined chest. And those arms, dear God above. I want to touch them to see if they are as firm as I imagine they are. Everything about him is...perfect.

  He catches my eyes lingering a few times and I feel my cheeks burn hot with embarrassment.

  Why is this fling of my mother’s standing in our kitchen, throwing cold beers back like he owns the place? The only time they come back is when we are hurting for money. Fuck. Not again.

  I toss what I have gathered off the floor into a laundry basket and slide it over to the cluttered coffee table with my foot. I kneel down and start sliding Matchbox cars into the basket. I am actually relieved that I was too tired to clean up last night. My mind is turning in circles with questions and picking up is helping ease my anxiety about what the actual fuck is going on.

  My mother is still in the kitchen with Crew, hanging all over him with a lit cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She pulls away, just long enough to grab two beers out of the fridge. With only my eyes, I look at the man sitting in the chair and see a look of disgust on his face. My stomach starts to flip flop as I grow more and more embarrassed with every second that passes.

  Why doesn’t this man just leave already? And take the loser who’s in my kitchen with him!

  I look over at my mother as she takes Crew’s hand and pulls him down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom. As the door shuts, I suddenly feel the urge to throw up.

  Oh, wonderful. How is she going to just leave me out here with this man? She didn’t even introduce us. Who is he? How fucking awkward! So fucking Mona Lombardi of her!

  As if he can read my mind, he looks down at me and smiles. Deep, flirtatious dimples appear, forcing me to awkwardly look away.

  “Name’s Noah. What’s yours, Brown Eyes?” His gravelly voice vibrates through every nerve ending in my body. I can feel his intense stare burning through me as I stack three V.C. Andrews books into a neat pile. My nerves go into overdrive, but I can’t help myself from stealing another glance.

  Brown Eyes?

  He stares back at me, challenging me with a confidence that seeps out of every ounce of his being. I feel paralyzed under his gaze. His eyes hold my attention, and I can’t stop staring into them. They are blue, deep blue with tiny specks of green in them. His smile is making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I push myself off the coffee table and walk into the kitchen to grab something to drink.

  “So, do you have any idea what the hell is going on with my mother and Crew?” I pop open a Coke and lean up against the counter, taking a drink. I can feel his gaze burning through me from the living room.

  “Unfortunately, he’s my stepbrother.” He slaps his hands on his legs, a puzzled look washing over him. “You got me. All I know is he asked me to drive him out here. Said that he is going to stay here as long as we are in the area. We work together and he doesn’t have a car. I’m just the driver.”

  I about fall over.

  Stay here? What?

  He must see that I am taken aback, confused by what he has just told me. He gets up and walks into the kitchen.

  “I take it you didn’t know that he was moving in?” He leans up against the fridge and waits for me to answer.

  I just stand there, my feet frozen to the floor. He is too close for comfort. I fiddle with my Coke can as I summon the good girl in me to shut down the provocative thoughts that are taunting and teasing me.

  I try to process what he just told me.

  “Yeah, well I’m not shocked that I didn’t know he would be shacking up with my mom. I'm used to not knowing what the hell is going on around here.”

  He looks down at the floor and runs his hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you, Brown Eyes.”

  I walk across the kitchen and throw my empty Coke can into the garbage.

  “No worries. Like I said, I’m used to it. And my name is not Brown Eyes, its Sofia. Now I have some homework to do before my brother gets home, so if you don’t mind letting yourself out, I'm going to my room to get that done.”

  As I start to turn around, I trip backwards over my book bag and go flying through the air. He jumps across the kitchen and grabs me just as I am about to hit the floor. I lay in his arms, still and in shock. Our faces are just inches apart as I drink him in. He smells of sweet cologne and his arms are exactly how I thought they would feel. Firm and soft around my waist. I can’t move. I am lost in his eyes. Those eyes. He smiles down at me, making my heart race. Those dimples. Oh, those magnificent dimples. I push away from him and quickly stand up, try
ing to pull myself together.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. Are you ok?” His voice is full of concern, but the smirk on his face says different.

  I lean down and grab my book bag. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a klutz. I hope you don’t mind, but I really need to get to my homework.” I am trying to not look frazzled right now and am pretty sure that I am failing miserably.

  “Yes, of course. I have to get going, anyway. I’m Crew’s ride to work, so I’m sure I will be seeing you around.” He starts for the front door but as he opens it, he pauses and turns around.

  “Hey, Sofia, you have a good night.” The screen door slams shut, and he is gone.

  As I hear his truck start up, I stand in the kitchen trying to make sense of the last twenty minutes.

  Those eyes. That smile. Those dimples.

  He makes me feel things. Urges start to build within me, making me feel hot and needy. I need to stay far away from him. Oh Lord, that man is trouble. Trouble that I sure as hell don’t want or need.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, after I tuck Lorenzo into bed, I busy myself with cleaning up after dinner. As I stand in front of the sink scrubbing on a pan that is caked with mac and cheese, I think about the craziness that is going on in my mother’s room. I haven't seen either of them since their little show in the kitchen earlier and I really am okay with that.

  I try my hardest not to let my mind drift to him. That man. That beautiful man. But no matter how hard I fight it, I cannot stop a hot feeling from stirring in my lower belly. It is growing and swelling into an undeniable urge. Strong and demanding. How can someone I don't even know have such an effect on my body?

  I have had sex twice. No flowers, no date, just a huge mistake on my part. I thought that it would grow into more than just sex, but it didn’t. Once I figured out that I was nothing more than a notch on their belt, I completely shut that part of me off. I will never allow another man near my heart.

  But this man, who didn’t even tell me his name, has the dirtiest part of my mind all twisted and knotted up.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door. I turn the water off and dry my hands on the back of my shorts and am relieved to see Ezra standing on my front step. I let her in and go back to picking up the kitchen. She sits down at the table and starts fiddling with the saltshaker.

  “Sof, I’m really sorry. I feel horrible for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Well, I did. I mean, I think you should be happy. Not always taking care of everyone. Your brother, your mom, this trailer. Look at you. You shouldn’t be expected to do all of this.” She shakes her head in disgust and pushes the saltshaker away, making it slam into a milk jug sitting on the table.

  I lean up against the sink, with a look of bewilderment on my face.

  “Ezra, do you think that I don’t know that this—” I wave my arms up in the air, “—that this is not normal? Taking care of the bills, my grades, Enzo, this trailer! It's exhausting. But what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a choice and you know that! After that last time that the services got called, I had to take control, or they were going to take Enzo and I would never see him again. This is my life. He is my life, and I will never let them take him from me again.”

  She gets up and pulls me into a hug. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just was so mad at you because I really like this guy, Sofia. He makes me happy.”

  I hug her back and sigh. “I know Ez. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Sof, I know that you were wronged before. Bad. But that’s just life. And life fucking hurts. It stings and burns at times. But before that hurt, you experience happiness. That right there is worth it to me.”

  She has a point. It just isn't an option for me. Not now, anyways. Someday, maybe? Right now, my focus is graduating, getting away from my mother, and taking Enzo with me.

  I walk to the fridge and grab two Cokes, tossing one to Ezra.

  “It’s all good, Ez. I get it. Chase is hot and he's into you. You should go for it. I wish I was more like you in that way. Just please, promise me you’ll be careful.”

  She takes a swig of her Coke and smiles. That smile that says, I might have done something that you aren’t going to like. I slowly pull my pop away from my lips and stare back at her.

  “What did you do?”

  “Don’t be mad, but I may have given Cam, Chase’s friend, your number. He wants to take you out.”

  My mouth gapes open. “You did what? Why would you do that? I don’t have time for all that. I can hardly hold it together between school and Lorenzo as it is! I don’t need guy drama.”

  She stands up, grabs her keys off the table, and walks towards the door. “That is exactly what I am talking about, Sof. You have to make time for you. We are almost done with our last year of high school. This is it, and then it’s a whole different world out there. And he may not even holler at you. But if he does, well, you should answer.”

  As she walks to her car, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to go out on a date. That little part of me that I shut down starts to flicker, and I firmly douse the spark.

  He probably won’t call me, anyway.

  Oh God, I hope he doesn’t call me!

  He didn’t call.

  Ting

  He texts me instead. At around ten o’clock that night, while I am sitting on the couch doing trig homework, my phone pings with a notification.

  What’s up Sof...it’s me Cameron. I got your number from Ezra. Was wondering if you wanted to do something Friday night?

  Shit. Now what, Sof?

  I ignore him, lay my phone on the coffee table, and get back to the problem that I am working on.

  Ting

  Seriously? Why Ezra? Why?

  We can grab a bite to eat and maybe go on a hike or something.

  I'm ignoring him.

  Leaving him unseen.

  Not doing it.

  Fuck it! Enzo is going to a sleepover Friday night.

  Yup, doing it!

  Here it goes.

  Sounds good. What time?

  Ting

  5 cool?

  Sure!

  Ting

  It’s a date! See you then.

  Now to figure out what I am going to wear. I slam my book shut and go to my room to sift through the few clothes I have.

  I can’t believe that I am sitting in this beat-up trailer. It’s depressing and it’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me.

  I will send this text about labor and cost to this customer and then I'm out. I look up at Crew, groping the chick from behind as she does the dishes. I shake my head at the slut. She looks rode hard. Spent, from years of putting God knows what into her body. I take note of the lack of care she displays in her home. That was something that my mother always took pride in.

  A memory finds its way in, as they always do. I am seven or eight, staring down at my mother as she scrubs our tiny kitchen floor on her hands and knees. “Noah, you can be dirt poor, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be dirty.” She stops scrubbing for a minute and looks up at me with her soft hazel eyes and smiles that Hollywood smile. Her blond hair pulled back into a rubber band, a red bandana wrapped around her head. She blows at a stray hair that keeps falling. “Now take those clothes and go put them away in your dresser please. And take Cami’s to her if you don’t mind, lovebug.” She points to the kitchen chair and goes back to scrubbing the floor.

  I shake myself free of the memory and hit send on my phone. I’m pretty sure that this estimate is in the bag. But if not, we still have enough work to keep us here until the middle of June.

  The smoke from the two idiots that are chain smoking is starting to give me a headache, so I am relieved to be done with my phone. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. I notice a few Matchbox cars on the coffee table and hope that they belong to this crazy bitch’s grandkids that don’t live with her. This is no environment for kids.

  As
I start to get up, I see a shadow through the broken front window, making its way up the steps. The door is flung open and in walks a girl. I slowly sit back down in the chair that should have been taken to the curb years ago. I can’t stop myself from staring. She is beautiful. A thick layer of smoke quickly surrounds her as she stands, staring in at the nonsense that is happening in the kitchen. I am first taken by her eyes, which are fierce and dark. Her hair looks to be as soft as silk and is the color of just turned soil on a hot summer's day. It is pulled up on top of her head with curls framing her face.

  Who is she?

  The screen door slams shut, making Crew and the whore jump, bringing me back down to earth.

  The slut that my stepbrother is shacking up with looks shocked that the girl is standing in her kitchen.

  I listen to a tense conversation that unravels in front of me. Her name is Sofia, and the slut is her mother.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She lives here and will be around my stepbrother.

  I can’t help but crack a smile at her attitude and sass that quickly turns to forced politeness per her mother's glare. She is wearing shorts that really should be longer. Her legs go on for miles. I envision cupping her ass in my hands and pulling her to my cock that right now is hardening at just the very sight of her.

  Jesus, is she even legal? What the hell is wrong with me?

  If this crazy ass pull towards her isn’t bad enough, it gets a million times worse when she turns towards me and our eyes meet for the first time.

  How can someone be so goddamn beautiful?

  She is the first to look away. Her eyes dart around the trashed living room and she frantically starts picking up shit that is all over the floor. I can’t help myself from watching her and I catch her glancing at me a few times. I need to be going, now, before this feeling turns into something that I can’t control anymore. Of course, I don’t, though. I can’t seem to pull my attention away from her. I watch as she bends over, her shorts revealing so much skin. They are so short that the pockets are actually peeking out at the bottom.