by S. L. Scott
Evan
Time is elusive. I can’t count on it any longer. Ever since Mallory came into my life it is either racing by or crawling; sometimes it even stands still. I’ve lived the life of unpredictability for so long that I don’t recognize a lot of what my life has become, which is disappointing.
I need to make some changes and I think the first is to weigh the pros and cons of the job in New York. Even if I’m too lazy to write them down, I should at least take a tally in my head. I also need to talk to Mallory about it. Over the last two weeks, since the party, we are inseparable. Apart from work, we spend every minute together, almost to the point of ridiculousness. But we like where we are right now. Actually, we love it. This is how it should’ve been from the beginning.
We spend the next two weeks talking, laughing, sharing, and exploring each other. We don’t fight. There aren’t even tiny moments of irritation. We’re happy. It is as simple as that. It seems that all of the hurdles that once stood in our way have been jumped and left in the past.
We don’t talk about my mother. I wanted to on several occasions, but I’m not willing to give away any second of happiness with Mallory to deal with that issue. So, I don’t. I greedily hoard her all to myself and can tell she’s doing the same with me.
I’ve discovered what true beauty is, especially when I see Mallory first thing in the morning—sleepy eyes, lips barely parted, and snuggled into my side—I realize I’ve never known it at all. She is pure beauty and awe in my eyes, but I feel her splendor in the way she is with me as well. She expresses her love so openly through touches, whispers, her giggles, and blushes. I try my best to make her feel how she makes me feel.
But nothing takes away that nagging feeling that has moved into the back of my head and set up camp—her impending departure. Although I have concerns over whether I should take this job in New York or not, I push them to the back, right next to thoughts of her departure, and focus on our time together.
Today, I have big plans. I’m spending the day with Ms. Chart. We grocery shop and she’s showing me how to make lasagna from scratch in the main kitchen. She said this would impress Mallory, so I’m making the effort to learn for both of us . It’s not a monumental step, but it is a little one toward my independence from the life of luxury I’ve led thus far. One thing I am positive of is that once I’m back in school and then after graduation, my parents aren’t going to gift me a private chef. So this little lesson into the culinary world will come in handy.
Mallory arrives at my house at exactly 6:48 p.m. I’ve been counting the minutes for the last hour. They’ve been dragging except for the time I spent with Ms. Chart.
When Sunny drops her off on the lower portion of the driveway, I greet her by wrapping my arms around her waist and holding her to me. “I missed you,” I say and kiss her forehead because I like to, but she also really likes it, so I do it often.
“I missed you, too. It’s kind of getting out of hand—”
“What is?”
“I just don’t like being away from you. All I think about all day at work is how much I wish I was with you instead or thinking about what you’re doing at that moment. It’s silly really,” she says, looking up at me, her hands resting on my upper arms.
“That makes me feel a little less insane because I do the same exact thing all day. Come on. I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Why is that the first question people ask when someone says they have a surprise for them? You know the answer to that.”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise then?”
“Ding ding ding!”
We walk around to the table by the pool and she stops, causing me to also stop. “Did you,” she starts, but goes quiet then starts again, “did you do all this for me?”
I turn back to the table and smile, proud as a peacock.
“A romantic dinner for two? This is stunning, Evan,” she says, squeezing my hand.
“So are you, baby.” I take her over, pulling her chair out and tucking her neatly up to the table. I pour each of us a glass of Chianti and then dish out the salad.
“Let me serve you tonight,” she says, “You went to so much trouble for me. It’s the least I can do.”
“No, that won’t do at all. I’m here to wine and dine you tonight.”
“But you already own my heart.”
I narrow my eyes at her playfully, and pout a bit. “Will you please let me do this for you?”
She agrees to let me handle the night. As usual, our conversation is easy. I find myself analyzing, maybe even over-analyzing her every little move: the way she eats, the way her smile envelops her face when she laughs from the gut, the way she blinks slower when we talk more intimately, and the way her hands move with such purpose, but sometimes give her uncertainty away.
“You haven’t been treated well by past boyfriends, have you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You already know I was cheated on.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
She looks down and rolls a cherry tomato around on her plate before stabbing it. “Evan, I don’t want to waste our time together talking about stuff that doesn’t matter.” She feeds herself the tomato while watching me as she chews.
“Okay,” I say, not wanting to upset her. It’s clear I’ll need to treat her special so she carries that with her back to school. I want her loaded and bogged down with happy memories from this summer and I’m hoping they can override all the bad ones she’s collected.
“I was thinking I could visit you in Colorado… if you want”
She sets her fork down and smiles. “Really?”
Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine and look her in the eyes. “For purely selfish reasons, of course.”
“Of course,” she says, giggling. “But I can live with that.”
We enjoy the leisurely meal and she can’t get over that I had made this all by myself. It was under Ms. Chart’s direction, but my hands had done all the work. After letting our meal settle, we walk the beach, hand in hand.
“Evan, I have two weeks left…” she starts, but pauses before continuing again, “…I know we don’t like to talk about it, but I feel like we need to.”
I stand in front of her holding both her hands and say, “Then we should talk about it.”
“I don’t know how things will be when I leave. How we’ll be or what will happen to us.” She steps closer, hugging me, taking a long breath before adding, “I’m scared for us.”
After taking a deep breath, I nod because I feel the same.
The sincerity softens her expression in the moonlight. “You told me once that we were more than just a summer of fun. Do you still believe that?”
As I look down into her soulful eyes, worry creases her brow. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you, Mallory. I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I don’t even allow myself to think about you leaving because my heart hurts and my mind goes into some kind of freakish negative overdrive thinking about every possible thing that can hurt us or separate us.”
Feeling the weight of my fears tumbling down over me, I let her go and walk into the water until it drifts up to my ankles before flowing back out again. I squat down staring beyond the break point for a minute before returning to her. “Am I enough? I need to know. If I’m not with you in Colorado, are you willing to try this long distance thing?”
She slides her hands up my chest and around my neck pulling me to her. “Oh, Evan, we’re so worried about getting our hearts broken that we didn’t realize that’s how the other feels. I’m more than willing to lay my heart on the line for you. I already have. I don’t think it will be easy, but I think we can make it.”
Her warmth is all I need and she knows this, so she kisses me. I open my mouth even though I know our conversation is not over.
She stops, tilts her head to the side, and asks, “When we say things like ‘make it’, w
hat are we trying to achieve?”
We stroll back to the house, needing the time to think about what that means, what we mean. One thing that I’ve always loved when talking to Mallory is that she’s also a great listener and usually only asks questions she really wants to know the answer to. And I want to give her a meaningful one.
“I think it’s a little soon to talk marriage, but I think even in my screwed up head, I’d like to be married one day and have a wife and family.” Taking one step up the back stairs to the house, she is now eye to eye with me. I lower my voice, feeling sentimental, and say, “I’d like you a part of that future.”
Wistfully she sighs. “You do?”
“Mmhm, I do.”
“Mr. Ashford, you say the sweetest things to me.”
I laugh at the formality. “So how attached are you to that name of yours, Miss Wray?”
“Oh, ummm… I’ve been called Mallory my whole life so I’m kind of attached,” she jokes, knowing what I mean, but I don’t bother correcting her. We may be crossing lines that neither of us is quite ready to cross yet.
We go inside silently and snuggle on the couch. I wrap my arm around her, and we lie in the dark looking out the expansive windows, both lost in our thoughts. Mine are wrapped up in the crazy concept that I will probably be someone’s husband, maybe even a dad, one day. Crazy because two months ago, I thought I wouldn’t even see my twenty-fifth birthday and here I am thinking of a future—a future with the lovely Miss Wray in my arms.
43
Evan
Sleep comes easily for us. It’s the mornings that are hard. We’re safe in our cocoon, our bubble, safe in each other’s arms, but we know we can’t stay like this forever. So each morning we wake up earlier than necessary to appreciate a few extra minutes of time together. Sometimes that’s spent holding each other or making love, but it renews our bond and strengthens our connection.
I drop Mallory off the next day and head into work. It’s the busy season for the hotel and my schedule is packed. I’m basically full time, which reminds me that I could be making a lot more money for the same amount of hours if I go to New York, and the novelty of this job wore off a long time ago. At one time I loved the constant attention I got. Now I dread it. It’s shallow, superficial stuff. I’ll admit that I used to perpetuate this playboy summer fling image, but now I’m actually trying to work. So the handsy housewives and the teenagers crushing on me have become a bit of an annoyance. The co-eds pick up on the no-go vibe I send and don’t even try.
With Mallory on my mind, I think of all the guys that frequent Big Kehones, but don’t allow myself to dwell because it will drive me mad. Kind of similar to the thoughts I have when I think of her back in Colorado with all those college guys. There are approximately fourteen thousand of them—I might have done some research in my spare time.
I pop up on the board to show the class how to do it one more time and then give each a giant foam board and send them out to the ocean.
Close to six o’clock, the gang shows up. They stop by to say hi before heading to the bar down the beach. Keeping my hands and lips to myself with Mallory when they stopped by was fucking torture and the distance puts me in a bad mood, but I don’t want to piss off the bosses and I really should be paying attention to my clients. Fuck! Since when did I start giving a shit about work?
I don’t get the shack closed up until seven-thirty. That’s almost two hours of missed drinking opportunities with my friends and time lost with Mallory. When I finally jog over to meet them, I find them under an umbrella shaded table. The guys are sharing a pitcher of beer and the girls all have tall fruity looking drinks in front of them.
When Mallory sees me coming, she runs to meet me. Jumping up, she grabs hold of my shoulders, and wraps her legs around my waist while attacking my mouth. I catch her and feel the heat of our connection that always exists between us. Her body relaxes in my arms and we both deepen the kiss. When she releases her mouth from mine, she says, “God, I missed you.”
I give her the smirk I know drives her crazy and she attacks my mouth again until we’re both hit in the head with flying chunks of cocktail fruit. Then Murphy yells, “Dudes, this is a public beach. Save the humping for later.”
Everyone cracks up, including us.
She slowly unlatches her legs from around me and I pick a piece of pineapple out of her hair, obviously from one of their frou-frou drinks. Our eyes shift from the fruit in my hand to meet each other’s mischievous gaze. Then we burst out laughing. “I might have to save this for later,” I say, winking at her.
“I’m gonna hold you to that, baby.” I love it when she calls me baby.
We continue drinking at the bar, getting more buzzed for another hour before Sunny asks, “So, what’s the deal, you two? School starts in less than a month. What’s the game plan, Stan?”
All four of them stop whatever they’re doing at the time and are suddenly very attentive as they stare between Mallory and me.
Mallory turns to me, so I respond, “Well, as you guys know, we’re together. I know we’ve kind of disappeared—”
Sunny chides playfully. “Kind of? That’s an understatement. It’s almost time for the girl to leave the island and this is the first time I’ve seen her in almost two weeks outside of work.”
“I’ve totally bogarted her time, but,” I pause, suddenly feeling the pressure of their eyes bearing down on me, “honestly, we haven’t figured a lot of it out yet, but we’re together.” Then I try to seamlessly add to the conversation. “I might move to Colorado.”
Mallory gasps, “What? What about the deadline?”
Zach leans his elbows on the table, staring at me in disbelief. “When did you decide that?”
I look at him, more wanting to deal with my girlfriend’s reaction, not his right now. But I do because I know this seems out of the blue. “I said I might. That’s all.”
Turning back to Mallory, confusion is written across her face, so I squeeze her hand in comfort. “I’ve just been thinking about it,” I whisper. “There would be a lot that goes into a move like that, especially since I would have to find a job and stuff.”
Sunny clears her throat and elbows Zach. “We should give them some privacy.”
Zach stands, and says, “We’re gonna go watch the last of the sunset, dude. Catch ya laters.” He takes Sunny’s hand as she jumps off her barstool and kisses him on the cheek.
Our eyes go to Kate and Murphy who are also standing, seeming ready to bolt. When I look at him, Murphy says, “I’d tell you what we’re gonna go do, but I know you don’t want to hear about it. So we’re just gonna go.”
“Yeah, probably not,” I quip, scrunching my nose up in disgust.
They turn and start walking toward the parking lot, but we see Kate rubbing his shoulder blades under the tank top he’s wearing and hear her say, “You’re getting fuzzy again, hot stuff.”
I instantly feel the bile rising. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”
Mallory laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh which brings me back to what we were talking about.
“Hey,” I say, resting my hands on her legs and turning in my chair to face her. “I said I’ve only been thinking about it. I’m not pressuring you into anything. I love you and being here at work all day has made me think about making some changes.”
“Where would you live?” She asks concerned.
I laugh, “I guess not with you.”
“You think we should live together? That’s crazy! I mean, we love each other yes, but living together? What about my roommate Sarah? She wouldn’t want a guy moving in with us and I can’t bail on her senior year.”
I throw my hands up to stop her from getting upset. “I’m not asking you to. I just made a joke, that’s all. Obviously, it’s not the time to talk about this.”
“But you wouldn’t have said it if you hadn’t thought about it. Talk to me, Evan. Let’s discuss this.” She takes my hand into both of hers and rubs her t
humbs over my knuckles.
With my free hand, I run it across her cheek memorizing the gentle curve of her cheekbone and letting my thumb linger on her bottom lip. She relaxes against my hand, closing her eyes momentarily, and giving into the feeling. I watch her intently not even realizing I’m staring.
“What?” she asks, soft spoken, but surprised.
My gulp is heavy, giving away my emotions of the moment. “I…I just love you so much, Mallory.”
“I love you, too. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what came over me. It was like…” I laugh, embarrassed. “It’s silly. Never mind,” I say, shaking my head.
“No, please. Tell me.”
Weakness isn’t one of my strong suits. Being this open is hard for me. She deserves nothing less, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t weigh a guilt trip on her because of the near future. She needs to go live her life, not worry about me and my sappy side. I stand up. “Come on, let’s go.”
The bartender’s voice is louder than the tropical music playing overhead. “Your brah’s left ya hangin’ and stiffed ya with the bill.”
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath and wave. “That’s cool. I’ll take care of it.”
I walk to the bar and he hands me the tab. “Really? I had two beers and get hit with a ninety-five dollar check?”
Mallory peeks over my shoulder, and offers, “You’re right, you shouldn’t have to pay that. I made decent tips today, I can pay it.”
“Keep your money. I know you worked hard for it. I can pay for it no problem. I was just griping about it is all.”
“No, I really want to help,” she says, reaching for the bill, but I grab her hand to stop her. “Let me get the tip then.”
Grabbing her hand before she tries to drop a twenty on the bar, I fold her hand around the bill and kiss it before clarifying, “Honey, I don’t want you to pay for any of it. I got it.”
I pay the bill and the tip and we walk back toward the surf shack. She’s quiet, concentrating on something. For as solid as I feel in our commitment to each other, I still worry if she’s happy. “Do you want to share your thoughts?”