Nemesis (Enemies-to-lovers Standalone)

by Maya Rose

  The thought of Eli at seventeen catches me unguarded. Lithe, raw grace and arrogance, only younger. I wonder about the girl who was his first. Was she pretty? Was she good? Did he like it? Does he still think of her? I hold my breath in, lest it makes a sound and breaks Scott’s rhythm or stops him from talking.

  “But his focus was one hundred percent on me. For that one hour, all seven days. He watched me, and he yelled when I made a mistake, screamed instructions that echoed around the park, and whooped loudly when I took my first solo round without falling. Bought me ice cream later.”

  My breaths come shallow, a cold splash of realization creating a hot twirl of longing through me. Is this what my father meant to have happened with me and Eli? For him to teach me like that? Give me all his attention? And Eli didn’t want it. Neither did I. And I don’t. I don’t.

  “When we were done, he went AWOL for months.” Scott keeps narrating. “I didn’t see him around in the same damn house and he didn’t come looking for me. Then suddenly there he was again, six or seven months later, kicking out the swim instructor dad had hired, in the middle of one lesson. He didn’t even let the woman change into dry clothes. You don’t need to come back, he told her. And coached me himself for a month. Breaststroke, front crawl, backstroke, butterfly...by the time he was through with me, I was good enough that I won regional competitions. Then...same deal. No Eli for God knows how long. Until he surfaced again. Taekwondo this time. After that it was building a treehouse in our yard.” He pauses, and his voice rifts when he continues. “I tried for more. Because it was such a fucking rush...to take the center stage in the tiniest part of his life. So I asked for help with homework, school projects, tests, baseball practice, chaperoning me to competitions...but it was always the same answer. Find someone else to do it.” Scott’s shoulders slump and his voice turns wistfully bitter. “It fucked me up so bad. Him, showing up whenever he wanted, on his terms, only as long as he wanted. And yet I kept waiting for him to do just that.” He sighs, noisy with a jitter. “I hated myself for needing him. Replayed every moment in my head over and over, to figure out what I was doing wrong. Like every time he spent time with me was a trial period and he chose to cancel my subscription at the end. Every time. Until he went off to college and I wasn’t in his orbit anymore. It was a miracle if I even got a glimpse of him during the holidays--if he came home for them, which mostly he didn’t.”

  That’s...that’s heart-rending and sad. For both of them. What was Eli dealing with? Damn it, why is my mind making excuses for him? Maybe he is just an asshole. “What about your mom and dad?” I steer away from Eli, for both our sakes. “They weren’t helping?”

  He hauls a long breath in, then out. “We were born in a gilded world, Ariel. Glitter on the outside, hollow on the inside. I was raised by nannies. Multiple ones that got replaced every few months, who knows why. If mom and dad talked to each other, it was to trade underhanded insults. Until even that was a lot of effort. Staying out of their crosshairs altogether was my way of coping.”

  And what was Eli’s way? Scott had him to go to. Who did Eli have? Where did he go? I just about manage to stop the questions from slipping out.

  “It sounds horrible.” I tell him sincerely. Does anyone have a normal family? What do people have to do to get an accountant father and a kindergarten teacher mom who lead 9 to 5 lives and talk about their uneventful days at the dinner table?

  He waits till he takes an exit, and turns left at the next street the map points to. “It was. So now Eli’s...well...Eli. And I’m a 21 year old dom who makes his subs call him daddy.”

  Oh God. “I did not need to know that.”

  Grinning again, he says, “And here I thought we were bonding.”

  “We were. And then you made it weird, you...weirdo.”

  He bursts into laughter. “Me? What about you--almost throwing up watching a little harmless TV?”

  “It was a prime minister blackmailed into having sex with a cow on national television! And he does it!!! Who makes up this kind of shit?” Ewwwww.

  “Not a cow. A pig.” He corrects me coolly, like that’s the most important part.

  “What the hell does it matter what animal, you sicko?” I ask him and he doubles up in laughter again. Then tries to convince me the rest of the way to give the next episode a shot before I throw in the towel on the series. After three long days of marinating in my own head and my room, forgetting to breathe every time I heard footsteps outside, waiting for and dreading a knock that never came, this is a welcome diversion.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with?” He asks when we’re parked in the outdoor parking lot of the big-ass nursing home.

  With a maintained lawn, a gardener at work trimming some hedges, window cleaners cleaning a side of the building, transparent doors that show a spotless reception and lobby, it looks too clean, too wholesome than the place I’m used to for visiting mom. Has she asked why she’s here? She always thought she was meant to have a better life. She sure spent like it. On herself, not me. Bet she’s thrilled with this place.

  “Is it rent-free?” Scott cuts through my bitter thoughts.

  “Um...what?”

  “Your head. Seems like an interesting place. Is it rent-free?”

  Ah shit. I need to stop spacing out like that. “Not for smartasses.” I return. “You don’t have to wait, by the way. I have the spare key you gave me. And Eli’s credit card. I can find my way back.”

  “Oh hell no. I’m not having you disappear on me for another three days. I’ll be right here when you’re done. We can go grab lunch.”

  “Okay.” I relent and get out of the car, not wanting to fight him. He’s normal and makes me feel normal. I’ve never really had a guy friend. Not since high school. ‘You’re whoring around, aren’t you?’ Mom asked me once when Sophomore year, my lab partner Gavin came by to drop notes because I was home with the flu. ‘Have you put your penis in her, boy? Is she good at it? She’s not better than me!!’ She railed at him. Then she gave him a smile that made me want to retch, and asked him while playing with her hair, if he wanted milk and cookies. We didn’t even have any cookies in the house. He fled like demon dogs were behind him, and told the whole class what happened. Funny thing was, I actually avoided boys like the plague. How could I not, after I realized why a father wasn’t in the picture for me? After I picked up on mom flirting with everyone from the convenience store owner Mr Chen to my PE teacher Mr Anders. I was so terrified of even inadvertently exhibiting any latent sexuality, that I wouldn’t look boys in the eye. I still don’t deal with men unless I have to. So what am I doing with Eli? Not breaking eye contact. Talking about genitals. Kissing him. Touching him. Letting him touch me. How am I slipping like this? Is he right? Am I like her after all, just repressing the hell out of it?

  “Yes? How can I help you?” The brunette at the reception with an elegant bun asks me.

  Right, they don’t know me here. Damn, I hate introductions. “Uh...I’m here to see Tamara Jenning...”

  She inputs something on the keyboard and looks at the screen in front of her. “Ah yes...Mrs Jenning was transferred earlier this week.” Then she looks up at me. “And you are?”

  Nobody. “Yeah...I’m...uh...her daughter.”

  My halting answer creates a small frown on her. Then she smiles politely. “Oh...nice to meet you, Ms…” She looks at the screen. “...Ms Walton. Can I see an ID, please?”

  Ms What??? Here I thought my only problem was not having my birth certificate with me, the only document with Ariel Jenning on it. I don’t have a driver’s license because I never learned to drive, I don’t have a passport because nobody ever saw the need for one, I don’t know where my social security card is, I don’t have a bank account, even my fake ID is back in my apartment...ex-apartment...I’m practically a disavowed Ethan Hunt. Off the radar. At least this time Scott’s unbelieving eyes are not on me like they were at the U’s admissions office. Thank God I at least had ema
il and soft copies of transcripts and the birth certificate. But now Ms Walton? I have a name that I can’t possibly prove as mine at all? Which one of them did this--Eli or my father?

  “I’m not actually...carrying...anything on me right now.” That’s plausible, right? People must forget purses and wallets all the time.

  Uh-oh. I don’t think she’s happy about this. To her credit, she saves her expression quicker than I thought. “Umm...we actually do need a current photo ID for anyone to meet a patient.”

  Shit. They don’t care in bars and sex clubs and diners how old you are before hiring you, but they care before letting you meet a fifty year old woman with Alzheimers? And I can’t even say with certainty that mom will recognize me.

  “Please...just 5-10 minutes. I just want to make sure she’s okay. Someone...a doctor or a nurse or whoever can be present the whole time if you guys want.” So she might insult me in front of strangers. Not the first time it’s happened.

  Bun lady is obviously uncomfortable with my request. She appears to mull it over for a few seconds before typing and looking for something again. She picks up her desk phone and dials. Then she’s talking to someone on the phone, but I swear she has whispering down to an art--I can’t hear a single word. Hanging up, she talks in a normal human person voice again. “Nancy...that’s her full time nurse...will take you to Ms Jenning’s room. She can also go over Ms Jenning’s treatment plan and daily schedule with you. Next time when you come in with your ID, you can also meet one of our doctors if you have any specific questions.”

  “Thank you.” I smile gratefully, and it’s not long before a cute-as-a-button woman comes bouncing up to the couch at the reception where I’m waiting. “Ms Walton?” I only nod but she perks right up. “Hi!!! How’s your day going?”

  Jeez, I’m not here for a manicure, lady. “I’m...good. How’s she doing?” I turn the snark down and ask her.

  She talks while we start walking. “She’s doing great!! Dr Hughes is continuing her on memantine and has started her on mirtazapine and that’s been helping with her aggression. We’ve also started an hour of meditation daily. And some outdoor time--”

  Aggression? “Did she...do something?”

  “Kneed a doctor when he refused a date with her.” Pretty Nancy says and smiles at me and I wish I could hide under a rock.

  “Sorry.” I mutter.

  “Oh no--that’s expected. Not the hitting on doctors,” She giggles, “...the aggression. Lots of things could trigger it in patients with severe Alzheimer’s. But like I said, we’re working on it and making her as comfortable as we can. Here we go.” She says, opening a door, and Christ, this room is insane. It’s big with a large window overlooking a beautiful garden, a recliner, a huge plasma TV, an attached bathroom that I think--

  Mom strides out of it and my lungs almost collapse. She looks years younger. She’s wearing regular clothes--not the patient garb from the earlier place and she looks like she’s just showered.

  “I need a body wash. Soaps don’t suit my skin.” She says to Nancy, before she finally turns to me.

  “Ariel!! Honey!” She hits me with a billion dollar smile. I cringe at how literal that is.

  Honey? Oh shit, I’m going to dissolve in a puddle of nothingness. She’s never--ever--smiled at me like that. Not when I was sick, not when I got injured, not when I did anything good, not even when I took care of her when she wasn’t feeling good.

  “This place is incredible!” She exclaims. “I love it! Do you know they have a pool?!!” She beams and foolish tears rush to my eyes.

  She looks happy. She’s never been happy like this. Not since I remember. Because of where she was forced to live? Because she had to take care of me alone? And because I couldn’t afford a better place. If Warren hadn’t done this, I would never have seen her like this? She never would have been happy? But I was trying so hard to have her be looked after.

  “Did you take a swim there, mom?” I somehow get a question out, afraid of losing this moment where my mother is looking at me like I mean something good to her.

  The transformation is unreal and sudden. Her face all but contorts. When her hand strikes me, I slam hard against the wall, my temple hitting the edge of the sharp door knob latch on my way down to the floor.

  “I’m NOT your MOTHER!! You’re a fucking liar!! An EVIL fucking liar!!! I killed you but you keep coming back!!” She screams and she screams, and I barely register perky Nancy trying to contain her and talking into her walkie-talkie at the same time. Then there are suddenly more people running in through the door and restraining mom, as Nancy comes and kneels in front of me.

  “Can I take a look at that, Ms Walton?”

  I stop her hand that’s going for my temple. I wish she wouldn’t call me that. Not now. “I...I’m going to go...I’m sorry I--”

  A blinding flash goes off in my face and then another and suddenly more people than just Nancy are in my face.

  “Is that your mother, Ms Walton?”

  What? What is happening?

  “Is Mr Walton going to marry her? Has he officially adopted you?”

  “Ms Walton, is your mother suffering from schizophrenia or depression or--”

  Reporters? With flashbulbs and cameras and microphones and notepads...oh my God. What...? How? Nancy’s furiously talking into her talkie-thingy and I just want to run. I hoist myself up, palm on the wall for support and try to make my way out, but they’re all blocking me, and mom is now screaming obscenities I haven’t even heard of. Nancy tries to say something over the din, but they’re actually backing me in a corner now as the questions keep flowing.

  Shit. Shit. God...shit. My heart feels like one of those cartoon hearts that just might burst out in an explosion outside of my chest, and my palms are hot and tingly. No wait--cold and tingly...no...wait...damn it, my head...I can’t feel it...and my feet...are they still there...my nose is blocked which is weird because I don’t have a cold…I’m caught in this fugue state that terrorizes me, I can’t freaking feel anything, the faces are all blending into one giant vulture like thing...

  “Please...I...I…” I need to tell Nancy that I’m going to die here, without having shown them an ID, but my mouth’s running out of oxygen to form words, and my wrist band isn’t hurting bad enough to snap me out of this.

  “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!!”

  A voice reigns supreme over the commotion in the room, and it clears a path for silence through all the uproar. That voice. I hear it. I know it. It’s outside. It’s in my head. It’s everywhere. It seeps into my pores, settles in my blood, draining every ounce of fear away, leaving only an intense sense of security. He’s here. And as long as he is, I’ll be safe. Why does my brain think that?

  “Eli.” I utter desperately, with too many thoughts and no energy to deal with any of them. Then I don’t have to, when his face comes into view, prim and collected and flinty, his big steady arms freeing the space around me, pushing everyone away, putting an end to my violation.

  “You’re okay.” He tells me, voice light and soft like a feather, crystal blue eyes heavy and strong-willed.

  I believe him. When did it become like this? I want nothing more than to hate him. God, why can’t I hate him?

  Then those big arms hem me in, one palm sliding up to caress my face, and I’m perversely at peace as my head hits his chest, and darkness claims me.

  Chapter 10

  Eli

  ◆◆◆

  “We should take her to the hospital, Eli.”

  “It’s a superficial cut. I’ll handle it--just keep driving.”

  “I don’t mean the damn cut. It’s been ten minutes and she’s still passed out for fuck’s sake.”

  “She’s breathing. How long is the map saying it’ll take?”

  “Don’t make me regret answering your call, Eli.” Scotty directs an iced, condensed glare at me, all the way around at the back seat where I’m sitting, holding her limp body, while he’s driving his
car. Looks like I’m not the only one playing fast and loose with lives here.

  “Keep your eyes on the road.” I instruct him.

  “I know what I need to do, asshole!!” He hisses, looking at my reflection in the mirror instead of directly at me this time. Directly at us. I’m trying not to look at the soft feminine figure in the curve of my arms. If I see that cut again too soon, I’m going to ask Scotty to turn around so I can throw her mother back in that shit place we removed her from. Instead, I concentrate on the fact that my little brother answered my call in the morning. He told me where she was, and is now maintaining visual contact while talking to me without indifference. It fills me with a fondness I’ve not felt before. Or ever expected to feel.

  “Thanks for doing this, Scotty.”

  His angry look eases into one of grudging irritation. “Not doing it for you.” He pauses before asking, “How did you know something like that was going to happen anyway? The reporters being there?”

  Years of practice and first instinct don’t let me answer right away. He doesn’t need to know, my brain tells me. Yes he does, my fledgling conscience counters. He’s the only one I can actually trust when it comes down to it, I realize in a flash. Fucking hell, when did that happen? I push the thought away to reply.

  “Warren broke it to the board two days ago, and to the execs yesterday. One text to somebody’s wife or husband was all it was going to take. Then this morning I got a call from a network asking for an exclusive interview with her.”

  “Christ.” He mutters under his breath. Then louder, “She needs someone with her full-time, Eli. You should get her a bodyguard or something.”

  “I know.” I snap.

  Because I should, yeah. And I’ve always done what I should do. But there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of me giving another man the license to be her constant hero. I think the same thing I thought when I met her that first time. Who the fuck is this girl? Why won’t she leave my mind alone for a second? How is she making me ditch work in the middle of the damn day to come rescue her without coercion? Why did I just recklessly invite lawsuits, assaulting those puny lowlives ambushing her?