by Taylor Hyer
“Her favorite thing was nature. She used to sit outside on the porch swing for hours just drawing everything that she saw, or wished she saw,” Parker said.
“What are you going to do with all of these?” I asked.
“Hopefully we can put them in the art gallery and sell them. A few of them we’ll keep,” Parker replied. “She had a few favorites that she always refused to sell, even though they were some of her best work. She would tell us that they were special, and for some reason they were so special that no one could see them.”
“Could I have one?” I asked.
Parker raised an eyebrow. “You want a painting?”
“Well, sure,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’d love to hang one up in my room. What about this tiger one? I love tigers.”
“I’ll have to ask my dad,” Parker said, “but I’d be honored to let you have that one. It was one of my favorites.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Thank you for showing me this place, too.”
“My mom’s art studio is the reason she was my favorite person,” Parker said softly. “Obviously it wasn’t this specific art studio, but the first time I ever saw one of her studios, it changed everything I thought about her.”
I asked her about that moment. Parker’s mom had been an artist since before she was even born. At first, it was more of a hobby, then she realized she could actually make some money from her work.
When Parker was nine, her mother led her downstairs and let her see the art studio for the first time.
“It almost looked exactly like the one at this house,” Parker laughed. “There was paint everywhere, and for some reason, she loved the white walls. ‘They’re like a blank canvas, begging me to add more color to them every time I paint a new piece,’ she’d say.”
There was a peaceful smile on her face as she remembered what her mom used to say. It was the most beautiful smile she had ever worn; even better than when she was laughing. It meant that she was slowly healing, and I was glad I could be a part of it.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Parker asked as she led me back up the stairs to the kitchen.
“That’d be nice,” I replied. I followed her up another flight of stairs to her bedroom. Parker sat down on a bean bag chair that sat right beside her bed on the floor.
“If my dad came in and we were just sitting on opposite sides of the bed,” Parker laughed, “he’d kill us both. Sitting on the floor seems to be the best option so he at least allows you in here.”
“Sounds fair to me,” I said as I sat down.
She moved her seat closer to mine, and our legs touched. I traced my finger up and down her thigh, feeling bumps arrive on her skin. I gave her chills. I felt Parker take a deep breath, and I looked up. She was staring at me, her deep eyes taking over my soul. It was what she did next that broke me down into a weak and pathetic version of myself.
Parker bit her bottom lip lightly and held her teeth there momentarily. I noticed her chest moving faster as she tried to catch her breath. I felt my body tense up as I watched her move her mouth. Her eyes stayed locked onto me, and I feared she could read my mind.
I had been looked at by plenty of girls in that way. They’d lick or bite their lips, maybe breathe in a way that sounded like a moan; but nothing compared to this. Parker wet her lips with her tongue, and I gripped her thigh slightly. It caught us both off guard, so we moved away from one another; but for just a moment.
Parker made her way onto my bean bag, practically sitting in my lap. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and began kissing me. It was unlike any kiss we had shared before. It was filled with passion that I had never felt. Parker gripped tightly on the back of my shirt, occasionally rubbing the back of my neck as we kissed.
After a few moments, our tongues slowly moved toward one another, eventually meeting up. The kissing started off slow, but once our tongues intertwined, we increased the pace. Parker continued to move her hands around the back of my neck, occasionally grasping me as if she had to hold on to my shirt to live.
I slowly bit her lip, pulling away from her. I moved my mouth to her jawline, feeling the sharp bone against my lips. Then, I kissed her continuously until I made it to her neck, kissing it softly. I bit it slightly, and the greatest moan to ever leave a human slipped out of Parker’s lips. I moved back to her lips, kissing her harder than before. Our mouths had become one, and our bodies had molded together as if they were made to be that way.
Part of me felt the need to pull away. Not because I wasn’t enjoying myself, but because it felt as if I was taking advantage of Parker. She had gone through a lot, and I didn’t want the heat of the moment have her do something she would regret. I started to slow my kissing down, and Parker followed my lead. I didn’t want to abruptly stop, knowing it would make her feel insecure. I let the kissing play out, and our breathing slowed down. Parker released her falcon grip from my shirt, and in the back of my head I wondered if she had ripped it or stretched it out.
We sat in silence for a minute, catching our breath, and gathering our thoughts. I knew Parker would be too embarrassed to speak first after a moment like that, so I began. “You make me feel so good,” I said.
She smiled and held my hand. We heard the garage door opening below us, signaling that Parker’s dad was home. We were taken out of our bubble and brought back to reality.
“Dad hasn’t really been up for cooking lately,” Parker said. “We either order in, go out, or a neighbor senses we haven’t eaten in two days and brings a casserole.”
“I can ask my mom to make extra food and I can bring it to you occasionally, if you want,” I said.
“Thank you, but no,” Parker replied. “We have to start learning to move on. We’ll never forget her, but we need to learn how to live without her. She isn’t coming back.”
Parker’s voice cracked as she finished her sentence; like she was finally admitting something she didn’t want to. The joy in her voice disappeared, as if all of the memories of her mother began to suffocate her again. I wanted to pull her in for a hug, but I knew it would break her down. I could feel her hand shaking, so I decided to grab that instead. I held it tightly, rubbing my thumb against hers.
Her eyes reverted back to the moment she learned about her mother’s passing. She aged another ten years, and I could just feel the life drain from her body again. Parker’s eyes glossed over, and I was now lost at sea. She looked down at our hands. It was impossible not to love her, even when she was so shattered.
It didn’t matter whether I hugged her or not. She began to gasp for air as she searched for her breath. The tears didn’t start right off; it was simply hyperventilation at its most extreme. She looked up from her shaking hands and I had never felt such an intense stare in my life. It was like she was begging me to take her pain away without having to speak.
My throat closed up as I tried to hold back the tears that were forming. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. Everything inside of me was falling apart as I watched her do the same. We sat and cried for what felt like hours. It was the most powerful and passionate moment I had ever had in my life. I was so miserably in love with her. I didn’t know what to do.
Parker
I knew I was in love with RJ the night my mom died. It felt wrong to have such strong feelings for someone as my mother laid cold and lifeless in an operating room; but I couldn’t help how I felt. Every part of my body ached as if every bone in my body broke simultaneously. A weight on my shoulders was crushing me deep into the ground, but the more I thought about RJ, the lighter that weight felt. Sure, I had pushed him away, but I needed time to cope alone. It didn’t mean that I loved him any less, or that I actually wanted to be without him.
A part of me knew I needed him, and as we cried together on my bedroom floor, all of my feelings were validated. We sat in silence, only our heavy breathing and occasional sniffles could be heard. I let RJ envelope me in a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around
my body, making me feel safe and at home. My breathing began to slow down, and my eyes started to dry up.
We loved one another, whole heartedly and so desperately; I could tell. It was an unknown feeling, one I was so deeply afraid of, but I let it in. I let it all in.
I tried not to love him. From day one, I knew the type of person he was. I had watched the movies, and I knew his type. I also knew that the quiet girl always fell for the popular guy. I had become a cliché, but for some reason I was fine with it. I could see beneath his surface level attitude. I wasn’t planning on changing him, but I hoped to dig deeper into his life and show people who he really was.
December
RJ
A couple of weeks later, we travelled two hours to participate in the Championship Game. The bus ride was quiet as we all had our headphones in, focusing. We were ranked number two in our division, and we were playing the number two team. They had a wide receiver that was almost as good as I was, and their quarterback had more passing and rushing yards than ours. We were in for a brutal game, but I was ready.
My favorite Tampa rapper’s words were filling my ears. G3ThatGuy was rapping: “everything is okay” and “everything is alright”. It was a calming song, and I believed every word of it. His Spotify playlist always knew how to focus my mind and motivate me. I could do anything with his words drowning out my thoughts.
When we entered the locker room, it was quiet until our coach walked in and yelled, “Let’s go win ourselves another ‘ship, shall we?”
Guys began slamming lockers, yelling, and pushing one another around. We were as hyped up as we had ever been. We wanted to win this game for the seniors, and for my brothers in particular.
Leighton put his hands on either side of my face and looked me directly in the eyes. “Don’t drop a pass,” he smirked.
“Don’t miss a tackle,” I retorted.
Instead of participating in the hyped up pre-game ritual, I put my headphones back on and drowned all of the noise out. I had my own procedure before a big game. For some reason, exerting my energy to help boost me up didn’t appeal to me. It seemed like a waste, when I could be relaxing and ensuring that my mind was completely focused on the task at hand.
Plus, we lost one of our star tackles the year before because he rammed his head into a locker and had a concussion before the game. Our quarterback was sacked three times from that side; we didn’t think we could possibly win. I refused to let my poor exertion of energy make our team anything less than perfect.
Just Breathe…everything is okay yeah it’s alright…Just Breathe… The music spoke deeply to me.
I looked at the clock hanging in the locker room as the song ended. Five minutes until we were to be on the field. I took my headphones off, placed them in my gym bag, and grabbed my helmet. My heart began to beat quickly as all of the men on the team followed my lead. I wasn’t a captain—only seniors could be—but I was well respected, and that probably meant more.
We lined up next to one other person and walked through the tunnel that led to the field. We waited at the edge for the “go ahead” before our team was announced over the speakers. Once we heard our name, we ran in unison out to the field. The crowd roared as we moved swiftly to our bench.
The captains of the team made our way to center field. We shook hands with the opposing teams’ captains, then listened as one of the referees held a coin in front of us.
“Visiting team calls it,” the referee said in our direction.
“Heads,” Leighton called out.
The coin flipped in the air and landed on the ground. We all leaned forward to get a better look. It landed on tails.
“We defer,” one of the captains said.
With that, our team would start on offense. I had an immediate opportunity to make an impact on the field. I would do everything I could to capitalize on the first drive. We walked back to our side of the field, mentally preparing for what was to come.
Everyone stood in a line with our helmets at our sides in respect of the National Anthem. A high school student from the opposing team stood at center field with a microphone in her hand. She belted out the lyrics, letting the last syllable hang in the air as the crowd clapped and stomped their feet for her.
The offensive starters on our team put their helmets on and moved into a huddle on the sideline. I was at the center of the huddle; always the one to give the pre-game speech. The team was jumping up and down as I began to yell: “Let’s get this, men! They have nothing on us. We are winners. Show no mercy. Oh, and pass me the ball!” Everyone laughed at the last part. I always added a small bit of humor toward the end to lighten the mood.
We put our hands together, and on three chanted, “Til the end,” meaning we wouldn’t stop fighting until the last whistle blew. We ran onto the field, and my mind was clear. I looked up at the stands, scanning for Parker and her family. I noticed her at the top of one of the stands, standing in between Kenton and Jackson. She was wearing my other jersey, looking better than anyone I had ever seen.
“I’m supposed to wear your jersey to support you, right?” Parker had asked a few days before the game. “So everyone knows who I’m dating, basically.”
“Stop watching so many cliché films, you goof,” I laughed. “But yes, if you want to wear it, please do. I’d love the support. Plus, I’m sure you’ll look so good.”
She had rolled her eyes, something I found to be so sexy every time she did it. I went into my closet and gave her my home jersey. She held it closely to her chest and said, “It smells like you.”
Even though I couldn’t get Parker out of my mind, I had never felt more ready and clear-headed for a game. My brothers had won a championship every year they were in high school, and I wanted to ensure that they won their senior year as well. They deserved that much.
The whistle blew, the ball was in the air, and the most important game of our high school careers had begun.
Parker
RJ walked out of the locker room, tears still streaming down his face. Leighton and Landon trailed him as they recorded a video on one of their phones. I still struggled with telling the two apart.
When RJ noticed me, his face lit up, and he ran up to me. I hadn’t seen him on the field after the game was finished, so I waited outside of the school for him to change out of his uniform and pads. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as he lifted me in the air. Our lips met, and he tasted salty from the tears.
“You did so well!” I exclaimed as RJ held me in the air for a moment.
“Thanks, baby,” RJ said, kissing me again.
As he set me down, I felt a small grasp around my waist. I looked down and Jackson was hugging both RJ and myself. He was smiling from ear to ear as he looked up at us. He had just lost one of his front teeth, so his gapped smile looked better than ever.
“Hey bud,” RJ said, smiling back even wider.
“You had touchdowns!” Jackson exclaimed.
Before RJ could say anything, Jackson released us from his grasp and ran up to Leighton and Landon. In the two weeks before the championship game, Jackson had met the twins and we would both occasionally go over to their house for dinner if our dad was working late. RJ’s family had been very welcoming toward us, and Jackson had developed an attachment to the twins.
Landon lifted Jackson up and tousled his hair before letting him down. “Good game,” Jackson said as he looked up at Landon.
“Thanks, bro,” Landon replied.
Leighton reached his hand out and fist bumped Jackson. We all gathered together and began to discuss the game. Leighton had a hand placed on Jackson’s shoulder, and RJ draped an arm around mine. I was standing next to Jackson and he reached his hand out, holding one of mine. Ever since our mom had passed, he had clung even closer to me. Most nights, he slept in my bed with me or on my floor. He simply needed to be close to me, maybe to know that I wasn’t also going to leave.
He tried sleeping with our dad one night, but Dad r
efused to let anyone even near his room. He didn’t want anyone to change the room my mother decorated, or sleep where she once lied. I didn’t understand it at first, until Jackson tried to take the sweater mom gave me to sleep in one night.
The last Friday of every month, my mom and I would have a sleepover in the basement of any house we were living in. We would build a pillow and blanket fort, watch movies on my tablet, eat popcorn and other junk food, and talk about anything.
The last sleepover we ever had was one I would never forget. We watched two chick flicks from Netflix, ordered a large veggie pizza, drank too much soda, and laughed until we could no longer breathe. As the night went on, we talked about our month at work and school. Mom was so excited to be showcased in the gallery; she was finally making it in our new city.
Before we went to sleep, I couldn’t stop shivering. For some reason, I was really cold. Mom was wearing a dark blue cardigan sweater over her white t-shirt. When she noticed the goosebumps poking out of my skin, she immediately took the sweater off and wrapped it around me. It smelled like roses, like her favorite perfume. I slept so comfortably that night, even though we were on a floor under a bunch of propped up pillows and blankets.
When Jackson took that sweater from my bed one night, it was one of the only times I had ever yelled at him. I walked into my room after school one day and noticed the sweater missing from one of my pillows. I kept it folded on my pillow so if I ever got cold at night, I could wrap it around me. My mom’s scent was still there, too.
“Dad!” I yelled down the hall, panicking as I worried he washed it. “Dad! Where’s the sweater that was on my bed?”
No response.
I walked frantically out of my room and to the laundry room. I rummaged through the washer and dryer, hoping Mom’s sweater wouldn’t be found. I didn’t want the smell to be washed out yet.