Her All Along

by Cara Dee

  “Thanks for ruining my panties, I guess.”

  “I swear to Christ, Elise.” The heat made a swift return and almost caused me to explode.

  “I’m joking!” she laughed and slapped my chest. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

  I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face.

  She wasn’t wearing any underwear. I could just slide my hand right up her dress and—

  Fuck my life.

  I blew out a breath and shook my head.

  “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about, but now I can’t stop thinking about your pussy.”

  While saying that only made shit worse for me, it succeeded in derailing Elise’s thoughts.

  “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

  And she wouldn’t let go until I told her. I knew that much. So…that was that. I’d have to switch gears and get serious, all while she was sitting there without any panties on.

  Get it together.

  I cleared my throat and caught a glimpse of her bracelet. She’d been so happy about the gift—and that Grace had picked it out—that I was looking forward to giving her something that was only from me.

  “When I placed the bracelet on your desk, I saw a photo of my brother and me,” I said. There. The words were out. “You could’ve chosen another picture, maybe one with just me in it, but you didn’t.”

  Elise straightened in her seat and untangled her leg from mine. Then she gathered one of my hands in her lap. “He’s a big part of who you are. Even though you haven’t seen him in over twenty years, you keep him alive right next to you.”

  Those words packed a punch, and I lowered my gaze to our hands. I could trust her to be the one person who saw me—all of me. Really saw me. And she was right, in a way. A phantom twin brother walked next to me, but it was just a reminder of a vacant spot. There was no one there. Just a void, a loss.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she murmured. “I should’ve asked if I could copy the photo.”

  I squeezed her hand and shook my head minutely. “It’s all right.”

  “But you’re not all right, honey,” she said softly. I could sense the caution in her tone. She was hesitating to go on. “I’ve been thinking about this lately. I have a—I don’t know how to explain it—but a pressure…?”

  I glanced at her, brow furrowed.

  She let out a frustrated breath and chewed on her lip. “The way some people have hurt you has caused you to set more limits,” she said. “Like, since your ex-wife went behind your back, it makes you less tolerant of anything remotely similar to that today. And that puts pressure on me. When it comes to your past, I have to tread very carefully so I don’t step on any toes.”

  I didn’t like that one bit. “That’s the last way I want you to feel. I trust you, love.”

  She offered a brief smile, but it was filled with trepidation, and there was guilt in her eyes.

  She wouldn’t.

  I swallowed the dread and prayed I was wrong. “You haven’t contacted him, have you?”

  She shook her head, thank fuck. “I think I saw him once, though. In Seattle.”

  Fuck.

  “I don’t think.” She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “I know I saw him. I thought it was you at first.”

  I clenched my jaw and dropped my stare to our hands again. I was squeezing hers a little too tightly, but she made no mention of it. I hadn’t even noticed.

  So, she’d seen him. She hadn’t told me about it, because…because due to how others had fucked me over, she knew I was particularly sensitive on the matter. And there was a worry that I might not believe her. That I might believe she’d looked him up on purpose.

  I already knew she wanted me to reach out to him again.

  “How did he…” My throat closed up. “When—”

  “Last year,” she answered. “He was at the airport when I was flying down here to start school.”

  Oh.

  “He worked there,” she went on carefully. “He wore one of those yellow vests.”

  Oh.

  So, he wasn’t working in radio anymore?

  “My hand—”

  “I’m sorry.” I released her hand quickly, but she was just as quick to shake her head and grab my hand again. Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to my knuckles.

  “I’m not your mother or your ex-wife, Avery,” she reminded me in a gentle tone. A reminder I didn’t need. She was the opposite of them. “I’m not saying this to hurt you—or because I don’t have faith in your reasoning. But I really think you should contact him again. Without the ‘Hey, brother, if you feel like staying in touch…’ Humans are cowards most of the time. If there’s an excuse, we’ll take it. When we’re scared, we look for the exit.” She straightened again, and she turned my way. The conviction in her gaze was unavoidable. “Don’t give him an exit. Tell him—be honest and tell him that you want him in your life. Share something with him. Tell him about Grace, about me, about your job. Give him a piece of you that he can’t ignore or forget.”

  For several beats, I just stared at Elise.

  Calling her fearless would minimize the fact that she’d been facing her fears all her life. She wasn’t fearless. She was brave, and she was right. The time I’d reached out to Finn, I’d had one foot inside the bubble of safety in case he didn’t want any contact with me. I hadn’t told him explicitly that I wanted him in my life. I hadn’t put myself out there the way I should have. The way Elise would’ve.

  “I’ll contact him.” I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re right.”

  She let out a big breath of relief and wrapped her arms around my middle. “I don’t think you’ll regret it,” she murmured. “I’m sure you can find him on social media, but if you need help, Willow’s great at this sort of stuff.”

  I kissed the top of her head and hugged her to me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Well, you’re not gonna find out.”

  Thirty-One

  Finn wasn’t on social media, unless he went under another name. Platforms like Twitter would be fruitless to even begin to search, but Facebook was generally a place one used their real name. My own Facebook was a shrine to education, as Elise so eloquently put it. I shared history and civics quizzes, anecdotes and fun facts about political science, and Darius and I tagged each other in various news articles.

  There was room for a few pictures of Grace too.

  Elise shared photos of her everyday life and countless requests for lives from various games she played.

  I preferred the pictures, to be honest.

  Looking up at the starry sky, I wished I could share this with her. If not in person, then with a photo, but my camera wasn’t equipped to take nighttime pictures.

  I took a deep breath and let the day’s travel wash away. We were on our way back toward the coast after spending a week in Utah and Colorado. Grace was asleep in the car. I’d parked right next to a picnic table at a rest stop, and I was fairly certain I was the only one around for miles, except for the poor schmuck who managed both a gas station and the smallest motel I’d ever laid eyes on.

  I wasn’t ready to wake up Grace just yet. She’d been cranky all day and missing Elise.

  That was a conversation Elise and I would probably have soon. This summer had turned Pipsqueak into a permanent fixture in Grace’s life, and she noticed when her Lee-Lee was gone. Grace looked for her. Asked for her.

  I poured the last of the coffee from my thermos and took a sip.

  Well…I was here to write. I should get started…

  I’d placed a notepad and a camping lantern in front of me for a reason.

  There was an envelope waiting in the car, labeled with the address Willow had helped me find.

  Where did I begin? How did I explain to my brother that I’d lived a miserable life, one where I’d hurt those who’d hurt me, where I’d held vile views and been filled with bitterness and re
sentment, where I’d eventually healed, mostly due to the two girls who now completely owned my heart and turned my world into a brighter place?

  A place worth living.

  My time on this earth was no longer about survival.

  I released a breath and flicked on the lantern, which cast a faint glow over the picnic table.

  I supposed Finn was a good place to start.

  Finn,

  Much has happened in my life the past few years, but no matter how much time goes by, there’s a void that only you can fill. I think about you often. I wonder how you’re doing, how you’ve moved on, and if you’re surrounded by people you love. I hope you are.

  I lived destructively for years. My trust in women was broken, I hurt people, and I carried an insurmountable volume of hatred within me. Maybe you remember how important school was for me? That didn’t stop. I actually became a teacher. Education remained my one constant, the one thing that kept me afloat. Well, there was one more thing. I befriended a friend’s baby sister when I was in the middle of my divorce. A twelve-year-old, annoying, inquisitive, sweet girl who’d stop by in the morning when I read the paper on my porch. Her world view kick-started a change in me…

  I hadn’t been nervous stepping into a classroom since my first year as a teacher.

  Until today.

  I’d arrived early to get into the right headspace, and now I could hear students out in the halls. Lockers slamming shut, guys hollering, girls chatting.

  This wasn’t a private academy in a sleepy Washington town. It was an inner-city public school in Oakland.

  The walls were bare, except for a few posters. A map of California, our flag, and a list of our presidents.

  I didn’t even have a fucking whiteboard. It was chalk.

  The textbooks were outdated, because some idiots thought text about history was as set in stone as the actual historical events, so I’d made copies for everyone of what we’d discuss today.

  The desks had seen better days too—probably in the seventies—and there was no chair to my own desk.

  Fine. I’d stand.

  My phone lit up with a message, and I picked it up and saw a picture in the preview. The sight made me smile and relax a little. Elise had the day off, which was rare, so she’d spent the night with me in our new place in Berkeley. Today, she was watching Grace. The picture was of the two of them, and it looked like they were sitting in the grass somewhere. Maybe the tiny park in my neighborhood.

  Be you, sweetie. They might not love you right away, but you’re a good authority figure. Let them recognize that and stick to your principles. I love you!

  She knew exactly what to say.

  In Ponderosa, I was expected to look respectable. Image mattered in private education. However, it mattered here too. Just a different image. A shirt and tie would just make me look preppy at this place, so I’d opted for jeans, a tee, and, unfortunately, my damn glasses. It was a tricky balance. I didn’t want the students to write me off as a Suit. At the same time, I didn’t want them to think I cared about being “one of them.” Teachers who tried to be their students’ friend were a sad breed in my field. The students didn’t have to like me. I didn’t care. They didn’t even have to respect me; I just wanted them to listen. I knew what I was doing, and I knew that education was a ticket out of most bad situations. And bringing my knowledge into a place that lacked prospects and opportunities was the best I could do.

  If the students listened to me, if they learned from me, they just might be able to rise above the system that worked against them.

  I opened the door a minute or so before the bell rang, and then I returned to my desk and half sat on the edge of it while the students started trickling in. Starting tomorrow, they’d check their own attendance at the door, but today I wanted to see their names properly. New class, new faces, new names. And hopefully I’d get an answer about whether or not I was ready to give up my job in Ponderosa and look for a position in the working-class district I’d grown up in south of Downtown.

  I happened to know they already had a good history teacher at Camas High, so the ultimate deal for me would probably be part-time positions at both schools. Because for as much as I wanted to teach students in a low-income neighborhood, I also wanted health insurance and a nice house with my daughter and future wife. I made no apologies for that.

  “You’re new…” A girl eyed me up and down and didn’t look very impressed.

  “You’re sharp,” I replied.

  That made two of her friends laugh.

  I folded my arms over my chest and observed the other students pouring in. Which was another thing. My classes here would be huge in comparison. I was used to fifteen to twenty students in one classroom. Double that here.

  “All right, everyone, take your seats,” I said and rounded the desk. “I’m Mr. Becker, and I’ll be your teacher in history and civics for the next two semesters.” I picked up the attendance sheet and eyed the thirty-nine names. Only a handful missing now, I estimated. “The benefit of teaching social studies is that I can sneak in economics wherever I want, and you might notice that soon. Because we’re going to start with local history, and why and when this very school became affected by how much someone’s house is worth.” I headed toward the door to close it. It was five minutes past, and that was my limit for how long I’d wait for the latecomers. “While I check your attendance, you’ll have a few minutes to look at the paper in front of you and find the answers to the following questions.” I gestured at the board. “When were property taxes introduced in California, what does the state constitution say about education, and who were the biggest advocates for education during the Monterey Convention and Sacramento Convention?”

  Welcome to my class, kids.

  I let out a long breath and kept my eyes closed.

  That moment when the painkillers set in and the headache started fading…

  If I hadn’t known what sex with Elise was like, I would’ve said this was better than the best screw out there.

  Breathe in, breathe out. The summer was slowly fading too. Nights got chilly, but I couldn’t be assed getting a blanket.

  “She’s asleep,” I heard Pipsqueak say, stepping out onto the balcony.

  Without opening my eyes, I reached out blindly and hooked an arm around her waist, then pulled her down to sit sideways across my lap.

  “Thank you.”

  She hummed and smoothed a finger between my eyebrows. “How’s the headache?”

  “A little better,” I murmured drowsily.

  She responded by combing her fingers through my hair, and I shuddered at the pleasure and reclined the back of my chair a bit more. Then I lifted my legs and rested them on top of the balustrade.

  Perfect moment. The day was finally washing away, and it left me with the one person who made everything better. She’d taken one look at me when I came home from work and directed me to the bathroom. After my shower, she told me to relax while she made dinner. Homemade pizza. Meanwhile, she’d taken care of a whiny Grace.

  “I don’t deserve you, baby.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m serious.” I hugged her to me and kissed her forehead. “I hope you’ll get a headache soon so I can return the favor.”

  I grinned tiredly at her giggle.

  A peaceful silence followed, and I listened to the faint sounds around us. Her even breaths, the occasional car driving past on the other side of the building, the leaves rustling in the trees in the park. There was just a small courtyard of sorts below us, and the only sign of life was when someone went into the bicycle garage.

  “I like your place,” she murmured. “It’s quiet.”

  “Mm.” Except for when my upstairs neighbor practiced the saxophone.

  I wasn’t sure, though. I’d done what I’d set out to do. I’d spent two months traveling our coast and a bit more inland. I’d started my new job in Oakland. My old house was sold. I’d temporarily mo
ved in to a one-bedroom apartment in Berkeley. I’d shaken up my old routines and uprooted my daughter and myself. And yet, I kept thinking about home. Today at lunch, I should have eaten in the faculty lounge and made an effort to get to know some of the teachers. Instead, I’d been holed up in my classroom, looking for listings in Camassia.

  I was glad I was doing this, but as I’d suspected from the beginning, there was only one direction to go after this, and it was back home.

  “What’s on your mind?” She scratched my scalp gently.

  I hummed and gave her a squeeze. “That I’m such a homebody.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m… I know this—doing this, seeing more of our country—is good for me, but I keep going back to what I want us to have when we go home.” I cleared my throat and opened my eyes. Not much of the headache left, thankfully. “I saw two houses today on the outskirts of Downtown that I’d like to look at, and I found a decent location for your business. Decent—not awesome. The space seemed perfect, but you should be closer to Hemlock, where there’s more activity.”

  Elise straightened on my lap and peered at me curiously. “You know it makes my day when you talk about our future like that?”

  I smiled a little and stroked her thigh. It’d been a while since I’d seen her in one of the jersey dresses she’d bought twelve of in different colors. “Then maybe what I say next won’t make you feel like I’m rushing into things,” I said. “You could help me look for a house. It’s going to be your home too, hopefully.”

  She beamed and locked her arms around my neck, and it put us nose-to-nose. “I like your way of asking me to move in with you.”

  I chuckled and captured her lips with mine. “I’ve heard it’s impolite to simply demand it.”

  “With you, I come willingly and frequently,” she joked. “Get it?”

  I laughed under my breath. “I get it. Clown.”