by Mia Sheridan
I feel myself stiffen at her words. This is still such a hard subject for me. "I never gave him much reason to trust me. But he actually passed away almost a year ago, six months before I moved here."
She’s quiet for a beat and then I feel her small hand grab mine and my heartbeat picks up as she grins up at me. "I'm just glad you had something to fall back on after the crash and burn of your short-lived creepster career." She bats her eyelashes.
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. She was always so good at getting me to laugh at myself when I was in one of my moods and she still is. I’ve missed her so damn much. I want to tell her so badly, but I know I can’t. Not yet.
We walk into the store and grab a cart and I watch her shamelessly as she selects items, trailing along behind her like a lovesick puppy dog. I’m fine with that. Several men do double takes as she walks by, completely oblivious. I have a quick vision of myself tackling them into a large display of cereal boxes; pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers turning into colored chalk beneath their faces as I slam them into the tiled floor. Magically delicious carnage. I snap out of it as we turn in to the ice cream aisle.
"What flavor do you like," I ask, opening the freezer door.
"Butter pecan," she says, opening a freezer door a couple down from where I’m standing.
I peruse the choices quickly and pull out a carton of butter pecan at the same time she pulls out the same flavor of another brand.
"Why that one?" I ask. "This one is twice the price. It's gotta be the best." I hold up my choice.
She shakes her head, "It's not about price, Jake. This one is the World's Greatest Ice Cream. Look, it says so right on the carton." She’s completely serious.
I look between the two. "Evie, you do know that they can say whatever they want to on the package, right? It doesn't mean it's true."
She doesn’t blink. "Well, see, you're right. But you're also wrong. I think that ninety-five percent of knowing you're the greatest is all about confidence. You might suspect you're the greatest, you might hope you're the greatest, but if you don't have the balls to proclaim yourself the greatest in bold packaging, and let your critics test you if they dare, then you probably aren't the greatest. Who can resist the guy who really, truly believes in himself?"
She throws the ice cream in the cart, turns, and starts walking down the aisle as I stare after her. And that’s it. If I wasn’t before, I’m ruined for life. Hopelessly. In. Love. The girl is it for me. Yeah, ruined. Happily ruined, standing smack dab in the middle of the ice cream aisle.
I try to pay for her groceries, but she glares at me and pushes my money away. I’m irritated. Something has shifted in my mind. She’s mine and I want more than ever to take care of her. But she’s independent and I know that she needs me to respect that. And I know that that would be true whether she knew who I really was or not.
We make our way back to her apartment. I’m hoping to God she’ll invite me in when we get there. I want to spend more time with her.
"So, can I ask what you meant when you said you didn't give your father much reason to trust you?" she asks, a slight frown on her face. She’s probably wondering if I’m a trustworthy person. I almost groan out loud, guilt washing over me.
I sigh. At least I can tell the truth here. I stare ahead as I say, "I was a screw up of a kid. I was selfish and messed up and I did everything my father hoped I wouldn't do. If it was self-destructive, I was first in line. Not exactly any parent's dream."
She looks at me sadly but doesn’t say anything.
When we get to the front door of her building, she nudges the door open with her foot and passes through.
I feel my jaw tense. "There's no lock on the outside door?"
"Ah, no. I've called the landlord several times, but clearly, it's not his first priority. It's okay. This is a pretty safe neighborhood. No one's gonna step up and call it World's Greatest, but it's decent," she jokes.
I’m pissed. This is unacceptable. I make a mental note to call her landlord the second I get to my office.
We stop just outside her door and I set her grocery bags on the floor and wait for her to take her key out. She doesn’t. "Um, so, thanks, Jake," she says instead, obviously not intending to invite me in. Damn. I can’t really blame her though. I’m practically a stranger as far as she knows. "It was a way more enjoyable trip than I expected it to be." She smiles politely.
Both of our heads turn as a big, beefy black guy, probably in his mid forties, opens his apartment door and stands there with his arms crossed, looking at me suspiciously.
"Hi, Maurice." Evie grins. "This is Jake. I'm good. It's good, um, we're good."
Maurice continues to look at me as if he’s considering whether to tear out my throat with his teeth or his bare hands. I try to diffuse the situation, putting on my most innocent smile and stepping forward. "Maurice," I say.
Maurice finally relents and shakes my outstretched hand. "Jake."
This is good. This guy looks like he could break a normal sized man in half and he’s obviously protective of Evie. Until I can take over the job, Maurice will do.
"Ah, thanks, Maurice. So I'll see you later?" Evie smiles.
Maurice pauses another minute and then, "Right. I'm just inside the door here, Evie. You need me, you call, yeah?"
"Yeah, Maurice," she says softly.
Maurice closes the door to his apartment and I look back at Evie, glancing between her and the door. Still, no go. Alright, plan B. I run my hand through my hair saying a silent prayer that she says yes to my next question. "Okay, I get it. I'm not invited in. Can I at least have your phone number?"
She pauses and I hold my breath. The last time I was nervous about asking a girl out, I was a teenager and it was the same girl.
"Give me your phone," she finally says and I exhale, handing it to her. She programs in her number and hands it back.
I grin at her and turn to walk away, saying, "I'm done stalking you, Evie. We've just elevated our status for real." She has no idea.
She laughs and calls after me. "You take all the fun out of everything. You know that, Jake Madsen?" I walk out the door grinning like a fool.
**********
It takes me almost an hour to find Seth’s small metal marker, half covered with grass and leaves. I squat down and push the debris aside, reading the words, "Seth Michael McKenna, April 7, 1986 to July 27, 2003." No "beloved" or "our little boy," nothing to give any indication that he was anything to anyone. But he was someone to me. My throat locks up as I pluck another leaf off that has just floated down from the large maple nearby. I rest my elbows on my thighs and say out loud, "Hey buddy." I let the silence stretch for long minutes, almost expecting to hear his giggle, his sweet voice saying, "Weeeo."
"I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I talk to you a lot, I have a feeling you hear me. But I should have come here. Seeing where you are, it just feels so… real, I guess." I stare down at his marker for several minutes before I go on.
"I'm so sorry, buddy. I hope wherever you are that you can find it in your heart to forgive me." I pause, gathering myself. "You must have wondered where I was, all those years. You must have wondered what you did wrong. All your life, you must have wondered what you did wrong. And I wasn't there to tell you that you did everything right. Buddy, with what you were given, you did everything right. And I never came back for you. And I have to live with that. But you had to live with that too, and it must have confused you and hurt you." Tears are sliding down my cheeks now, but I let them fall because Seth deserves each and every one of them. Fuck my pride. I sigh and collect myself a little, plucking at the grass. "Remember when dad came home that time rip roaring drunk and me and mom were so damn tense, walking on eggshells? And he turned away and you started mimicking him by teetering around and going squinty eyed?" I laugh out loud at the memory. "Mom thought you were just being you, she was too wrapped up in her own world to notice who you were. But I saw wha
t you were doing and it cracked me up so much I started laughing out loud. Dad decked me because he thought I was making fun of him, which I was, actually. But, fuck, Seth, it was worth it because we were in on the joke together and that was fucking awesome. We connected and those were the moments I lived for with you. I wore that black eye around for two weeks, proudly. I hope you carried a few moments like that with you, too. I hope you know that I saw you. And I hope you know that I needed you too, buddy."
I sit plucking at the grass, letting the memories wash over me, letting the past in, despite the fact that it hurts. It hurts so damn bad.
"What was that stupid little song that you used to ask me for every night? Baa Baa Black Sheep? Remember that? I swear I sang that damn song fifty thousand times." I chuckle but then I feel myself grimace with the hurt the memory brings. "I'd sing it fifty thousand more, buddy, if I could just have you back. I hope you know that."
I pause for several minutes, picturing my little brother's face, his smile, hearing his voice in my head. Then I recite very, very quietly, "Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for my master, one for my dame, and one for the little boy who lives down the lane. Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for my master, one for my dame, and one for the little boy who lives down the lane."
I kneel down on the grass now and put my hands on the cold metal, tracing every letter of his name and the dates of his short life. "You mattered, Seth. In this world, you mattered. You mattered to me. You always will. I love you buddy. I want you to know that. You mattered." Then I stand up and I walk slowly back to my car.
CHAPTER 8
I get to the office a little before noon and I sit in my car in the garage for ten minutes pulling myself together. It’s been a long, emotional roller coaster of a morning. I put my head in my hands, massaging my temples even though I don’t have a headache. Yet. I was so happy when I left Evie’s, but now I’m just confused. Visiting Seth was hard and now I just want to call Evie and tell her about it. But of course, I can’t do that. It’s been eight years, but in some ways, I feel like it hasn’t been any time at all. I wonder if she feels a comfort level with me, too, that she’s having a hard time explaining to herself.
As I exit the elevator on my floor, Preston is walking down the hall toward me. Preston was my adoptive dad, Phil’s, business partner, with him practically from the beginning, when the company was just a startup. He’s extremely intelligent and an all-around good guy. I know my dad trusted him implicitly and I respect the hell out of him.
Even though Phil was an engineering guy just like Preston, Phil also had a really great knack for business, and so when he moved to San Diego to open an office there, the Ohio office suffered. It’s what I’ve been working so hard to reverse as the new CEO and I think I’ve made some major improvements. We’re now operating on solid ground.
"Jake!" he greets me. Preston looks like the ultimate engineer, skinny and geeky with thick glasses and a perpetual rumpled look, as if he sleeps at his desk. Hell, as far as I know, he does. Maybe that’s how he seems to do an inhuman amount of work.
"I was just coming to see if you had a minute to go over some of these designs I just got from engineering." He holds out a folder.
"Hey, Preston. Yeah, of course. Come on into my office."
We walk toward my office and he waits as I stop and greet Christine and grab my messages from her.
"You’re going to love these. The guys hit it out of the park with the new casing," Preston says.
We sit down at the four-person table in my office and go over all the designs, discussing our preferences and the details of the schematics. I focus easily on the work in front of us, lured in by the excitement and passion in Preston’s voice. We don’t agree on everything in front of us, but we discuss our differences easily and in the end, I convince him to take a chance on my design preference. He’s right; the engineers hit this one out of the park.
As he stands, he grips my shoulder and smiles, saying, "You remind me a lot of your dad as a young man, Jake. He always had a knack for convincing me to take his side. And he was almost always right." He laughs.
He turns to leave, but when he gets to the door, he stops and turns back to me. "I hope you don’t take offense when we call you ‘The Kid.’" He smiles. "I know we joke about it, but in all honesty, you’ve held your own since the day you took over here and we’re all very impressed. I knew your dad for over thirty years and I worked more closely with him than anyone else did. Jake, I know he’d be proud of you, too." He doesn’t give me time to respond but turns and closes the door softly behind him. I sit unmoving for several minutes. Finally, I stand up and gather my paperwork. I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the wall over a credenza. It’s only then that I realize I’m smiling.
**********
Later that evening, I stand under the stream of hot water, letting the steam from the shower relax my tired muscles. I stopped at the gym after work and worked out until my body was spent and my restless mind was finally quieted, at least temporarily.
As the water rains down over my tired body, my mind goes to Evie and I wonder what she’s doing tonight. I wish I had the right to know. I wish I had the right to call her up and tell her I want her with me tonight. I lean one hand on the tile in front of me as my other hand goes to my head, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. Then I brace both hands on the wall and stand with my head directly under the spray, fantasizing about what it would be like for Evie to show up at my door… to kiss her hello and lead her to my bed. I feel my groin throb. My hand travels downward and I grip myself. I’m suddenly painfully hard and I hold back a groan as I stroke myself slowly. Pleasure, intense and hot, shoots through my body. I picture myself stripping Evie’s clothes off, one piece at a time and drinking in every inch of her perfect little body. I wonder what she looks like naked, what color her nipples are, what they’d taste like. Sweet, I’m sure. As sweet as her mouth was when I kissed her on our roof all those years ago. I used to think about her naked constantly when I was a teenager, but I haven’t allowed myself to since. It was too painful because I knew I’d never have her. But now… the mere possibility has the blood raging through my veins.
I pretend the water running down my back is Evie’s hands soothing me, caressing me. I pretend that my own hand is hers, reaching around me from behind to stroke me, up and down, her little hand speeding up as the water splashes over both of us. I groan aloud. Her breasts are pressed up against my back, her body slick with the water raining down on both of us. She rubs them against me, moaning at the friction as they pebble against my skin. The sound of the running water mixes with our combined moans. "Fuck, baby that feels so good."
She slides around me and goes down on her knees, taking me in her hot little mouth. I watch her as she moves her head, sucking and licking, the water lubricating my cock so that she slides up and down effortlessly. "Oh baby, fuck, don’t stop," I grit out. She moans her agreement, speeding up as I run my hands over her wet hair. Fuck, it feels so amazing. I feel my balls pull up tightly, my orgasm swirling through my belly. "I’m gonna come, baby," I choke out. She pulls back, fisting me now as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life. Her hand continues to milk me slowly as I come down. Holy fuck.
I wipe the semen off the wall in front of me with my hand and I soap myself up one more time before standing under the spray for a few more minutes. I laugh quietly. Holy shit, if I come that hard just from the fantasy of her, what’s going to happen to me if I ever really have her?
I towel off and collapse on my bed. I marvel at what just happened. Sex, even by myself, has never been more than a release for me. I can’t honestly say I ever enjoyed it thoroughly because the emotions surrounding it have always been so negative for me. I’ve never allowed myself to fully enjoy it. It was always a means to an end for me – whether that end was for numbing purposes, to prove to Lauren that she didn’t own me,
or for a physical release, it was never, ever a fulfilling experience. I don’t even know that I recognized that until this very moment. For the first time since I moved to San Diego, I had a good sexual experience and it was jacking off in my fucking shower to a fantasy of Evie. Holy shit.
CHAPTER 9
I flip blankly through the channels on the television mounted on the wall in front of me, finding nothing of interest. I turn it off and set the remote on the table next to me, as my room door swings open. I turn my head, my brows snapping down immediately. It’s fucking Lauren. What the hell? The nurses know that she’s on a "do not allow" visitors list. She must have sneaked past them somehow. I grab for the call button but Lauren swoops over and places it just out of my reach. She sits down, grabbing my hands and saying, "Jake, stop. I just want a minute. Please. Do you know what I’ve been going through, not being able to see you? Not being able to comfort you? I love you, honey."
"You don’t love me," I spit out. "What you feel for me is not love. It never was. It was sex. Sex that was wrong and dirty and manipulative and ruined my fucking life. And then ended Phil’s life, too. Remember him, Lauren? Your HUSBAND? You need to get out of here."
She pauses, then leans over and tries to move a piece of hair off my forehead, I draw back from her hand. "No."
"Oh, Jake, of course I think of Phil. But that wasn’t our fault. He never took very good care of himself… always working." She pauses, studying her fingernails. "It was going to be for the best that he found out about us. We should have told him years ago… What we HAVE, what we’ve always had, is not wrong or dirty. You just need to get over your guilt and you’ll realize that. You don’t have anything to feel guilty for. We fell in love. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there."
I’m staring at her, my eyes narrowed. Jesus, she lives in her own world. "Lauren, you’re delusional. I never fell in love with you. You were supposed to be a MOM to me. The sooner you get that through your head that I NEVER loved you, the easier it will be on both of us. This is not productive. You need to leave. If you won’t give me the call button then I’m going to start yelling. You need to hear me for once in your self-absorbed life."