by Mj Fields
“Do you need your meds?”
“They make me tired, they make me sleep, they confuse me and they make me miss moments like this.”
“But if you’re in pain.”
“My biggest ache is the one in my chest, and it’s because I know you deserve as much happiness as Bastien does, yet you won’t accept it.”
“My biggest ache is in my ass Maisie because you have been hell bent on chewing it this summer,” I laugh, and so does she. “If I ever meet someone I fall head up my aching ass for, they will get a whole man, not one who’s broken. I will not expect a woman I love to fix me or save me. If I fall in love, it will be when I am ready to give away all of who I am, and not pieces for them to put together.”
“You are one of the most put together men I know, Oliver.”
“Not yet, Maisie, not yet.”
“You know I love you, Oliver?”
“I know, Maisie.” I hold her hand and sigh.
After a few minutes of silence, I am pretty sure she is asleep. I lean back and look up at the stars and catch the glimpse of a blonde stepping out of the shadows.
“Everything alright, Natasha?”
“No, it’s not.”
I stand and turn around to face her and nearly fucking lose my shit when I see her.
She’s wearing a tiny little white bikini. I’m not even sure you could call it a fucking bikini, it’s strings holding fabric swatches. In her hand, a poker with a burnt marshmallow on it.
“What the hell is that?”
“This?” she asks, pushing one side of the bikini top down, showing me half her tit. Swear to Christ, I saw areola. “It’s a tattoo.”
“You got a tattoo?”
“I got a couple.”
“You got a couple.”
“Natasha is beautiful.”
“Natasha is beau–” I stop when she laughs, and I realize what a fucking idiot I sound like repeating everything she says.
“Why? What does it say? When did you do that?”
“Because I wanted to. This one says warrior.” She pulls the top down slower and I definitely see areola. “And I did it a couple weeks ago.”
“Where’s the others?”
“Why?” She puts her hand on her hip.
Trying to hold in my annoyance, I keep my lips tight. “For your employee file, Natasha.”
“Wow, are all yours listed in your employee file, Oliver?” I narrow my eyes at her. “That thing must be,” she pauses and looks down at my shorts then up my body to my eyes, “This big?”
She holds her hands out about eight inches apart and bites her bottom lip, not her top. I prefer her biting the top, because that’s sweet Natasha, not Natasha in dental floss and fabric swatches making jokes about my dick size.
“Add a couple inches and answer the question.”
Smirking, she lifts her foot up. “This was the worst.”
“I can’t see it.”
“It’s worth going down for.”
I licked your fucking fingers after you pissed at the club, I know what I’m missing, I think.
“Have you been drinking?”
She shrugs, “A couple glasses of wine.”
“You’re not legal.”
She lifts her foot higher, so it’s nearly in my face. “I promise, you’ll love it.”
I lean in and see a tiny footprint on her foot, above it in script it says, With You Every Step Of The Way. “It’s Joshua’s foot print.”
I nod. “And the other?”
She smirks, “That’s just for me.”
She sticks the poker in my face. “Give this to Maisie from me when she wakes up?”
She starts to turn around and stops. “Tell her I love her, and Oliver, it wouldn’t hurt you to tell her the same.”
“She knows.”
She rolls her eyes. “Tell her, Oliver.”
When she turns around and walks away, I see her thong outlining the nicest little peach of an ass in the universe, above it a tramp stamp that says, Imagine All The Possibilities.
“I need to get the fuck out of here,” I whisper.
I swear I hear Maisie laugh and when I walk around in front of her to see, her eyes are closed, but she has a smirk on her face.
“Natasha brought you a marshmallow, burnt, just the way you like it.”
When she opens her eyes, I know damn well she heard the whole conversation. “Was she wearing the new suit I bought for her?”
I cross my arms in front of me. “If by suit, you mean dental floss and pasties, yes.”
The night before Natasha leaves to head back to school, I promise Maisie I’d come back to have dinner with the family. When I arrive, Bass and his son are sitting in the living room with Maisie.
When I walk around in front of them, she’s asleep.
“Hey man,” Bass whispers and stands to move out of the room.
I follow him to the kitchen and out the side door. Once the door shuts behind us, he sighs, “She’s fucking confused today.”
I nod and don’t want to point out she has been for weeks now, months even, but he’s been pretty preoccupied. Not his fault.
“She refused her pain pill all day until an hour ago, when I basically begged her to take it.”
“Nothing we can do.”
“I know, but fuck, can’t we sneak her a pill or dose her sweet tea?”
“And take the chance it would be the one time she’s on point?”
“Right,” he sighs. “Ollie, do you think she’s well enough to travel?”
“Honestly, no. But if she knows she’s holding you back from going, she’s gonna be pissed.”
“But if we leave, she’s going to be heart broken. I can’t do that to her. I won’t.”
“Then how about we cross that bridge when we get to it.”
He looks down at his son. “You wanna take him so I can start the grill?”
“Yeah, I’d love to.”
When Natasha and Angela return, I hear the car, and Maisie’s nasty little dog yip as he runs across the deck, wearing a bow in the only four hairs that remain on top of his head, and he runs right into the chair I’m sitting in, bounces back with a yelp and shakes his head so the bow comes loose.
“Snuffleupagus, you’re looking pretty spiffy,” I laugh.
Bass looks back. “That damn thing is a walking case of the clap.”
“Be nice,” Natasha says as she kneels down and tries to fix the bow. “He’s precious.”
“Choose another word, Natasha, for the love of God, you call your brother that.”
He sneezes, and Natasha scrunches up her face and wipes whatever the hell came out of him on her ass.
“Oh come on, buddy, you look much more put together with a bow on.”
“That thing hasn’t been put together in a decade,” Bass says before kissing Angela and taking the bag she’s carrying.
Natasha looks up and smiles at me. “Hey.”
I lift my chin and say it back.
“I’ll take him, he’s about due for a feeding,” Angela says and takes the baby from my arm.
“Maisie up yet?” Natasha asks Bass, shielding her eyes from the setting sun.
“No.”
“I hope she’ll eat with us.”
“She will, her favorite son’s here,” he says and points the tongs at me.
Sitting next to Maisie’s bed, I watch her sleep. She did get up to eat, she didn’t eat much, and she nearly fell asleep at the table, but she was there.
“Hey,” I hear Natasha come in the room and turn around. “She okay?”
I shrug.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. You?”
She walks over and sits on the foot of the bed. “I’m fine.”
“You have fun the other night?”
She laughs, “Why?”
“Just making conversation.”
“You jealous?”
“No, Natasha, I’m not.”
“Then d
on’t ask.” She starts to stand and I reach out and grab her knee. “What?”
“Just stay.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “He likes me, you know.”
“I could play dumb and ask who, but that would be senseless.”
“You know how many times he’s asked me out, Oliver?”
I don’t answer, I just look at her.
“Every week since I’ve been here. And every week I’ve told him no.” When I don’t reply, she continues. “I won’t keep telling him no.”
“I never asked you to.”
She looks away and lies on her side next to Maisie, her back to me. “He’s never treated me like I didn’t matter.”
That pisses me off, but I won’t fight with her.
“Close your eyes, Natasha, and picture your wedding day. He’s wearing a suit and tie, the smile, and imagining the night ahead of you. How he will touch you, where he will begin. He’s smiling at you adoringly as you, the woman he loves, walks down the aisle toward him.”
She rolls to her back and looks at me.
“Now picture him in his entirety, his past, his hobbies, habits, friends, the things he thinks are important, and think about living for him for the rest of your life.”
She scowls.
“Not only are we wired to want what we can’t have, but we’re wired to want what we really don’t want.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Every girl wants to fix a broken boy, thinking because she did that, he will love her forever.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“For a boy? Nothing, I guess, but a man should want to be whole before he devotes his life to a woman, if he truly loves her.”
She rolls back to her side and snuggles up to Maisie.
I watch as her breathing evens out, and when I know she’s asleep, I stand, lean over and breathe in an addiction I have yet to overcome.
Two weeks later, I’m sitting next to Maisie’s bed watching her as she sleeps, waiting for her to wake so she can eat. When she opens her eyes and I tell her it’s time to eat, she closes them again.
“Ollie, you’re here?”
“Yes, Maisie.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Ollie?”
“Do you remember my Joshua?” Joshua was her late husband’s name and who Bass and Angela named their son after. We’d never met him.
“I remember how much he loves you, Maisie.”
She smiles.
“And in case you didn’t know,” I close my eyes and scrunch my eyes together, “I love you too.”
“I know, Ollie. I know.”
Maisie didn’t wake up after that, and that damn dog yipped until I put him up next to her. He snuggled against her slept until the coroner came to pronounce her dead.
By the time all the arrangements were made four days later, that dog died, too. He’s to be buried with Maisie, next to her husband.
I drank for four days. The day before her funeral, I stayed sober because I needed to make a decision with a clear head.
And I did.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Natasha
Maisie’s funeral was already planned out, by her, of course. She didn’t want a big “to do.” She wanted those closest to her together to celebrate her life, and to toast her reunion with the man who loved her regardless of color, social status, and the fact that their love was forbidden by all… it didn’t matter then and still didn’t now.
I cried my eyes out on the flight home and when I walked into her house, ready to celebrate as she intended, you could have cut the tension with a knife.
Bass and Oliver stayed away from one another and Mom tried her best to carry out Maisie’s wishes.
We rode together in a limo to the cemetery where Oliver read the verses she requested, Corinthians 13: 1-13 and when he has to stop, I’m thankful I have on sunglasses, so he can’t see my tears. And at her request, he closes with Psalms 23. All while we stood on the lawn looking at a headstone with her and her husband’s names on it.
I held Joshua, while mom held Bass, and we all listened to Oliver.
As soon as we got back in the limo, Bass and Oliver blatantly glared at one another.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked, “What’s going on?”
Oliver spoke first, “Nothing.”
And Bass followed it up with, “Oliver is leaving de la Porte.”
“What? Why?”
“Leave it alone, Bass,” Oliver warned.
“He’s going back to the desert. He’s reenlisted.”
“What? Why would you do that, Oliver?” I question.
“I didn’t reenlist, I signed a government contract to help out my old unit. I did it because they need me.”
“We need you, Oliver! We do,” Bass implores him.
“Bass,” Mom whispers trying to calm him.
“No, Ang. No, he is making a mistake. He’s going on a fucking suicide mission.”
“It’s no suicide mission, it’s to help out my brothers.”
“I’m your fucking brother, Oliver. Me. You’re fucked up over Maisie. You’re fucked up in the head, and if you don’t tell them, and this doesn’t go away, I will.”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life. And let me tell you something, you say otherwise and you and I, we’re done.”
“Why?” I can’t hold back the tears. “Why, Oliver?”
“Because, I’m needed there.”
“You’re needed here.” I clench my chest because the pain is nearly unbearable.
He nods. “I can’t be here right now.”
Bass is so angry he’s shaking. “Because you’re fucked up over Maisie. Because you’re still–”
“God damn it, Bass, leave it alone!”
Once we get back to the house, Oliver immediately walks into Maisie’s house and Bass begins to storm after him.
“No.” I stand in front of him. “Just leave him alone, let him get through this and maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“Natasha,” Mom whispers.
“Just leave him alone.” I pull away from her and run into the house to find Oliver.
I take the stairs two at a time and run to his room where he’s packing a duffle bag.
“Tell me why? Tell me and I’ll stop doing whatever it is–”
“Natasha, I need to do this for me. It has nothing to do with de la Porte. And of all fucking days–”
“He loves you, Oliver. He doesn’t want to lose you. Can’t you see that you’re loved?”
He turns around and leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, and he sighs. “This had nothing to do with Bass, or Maisie, it has everything to do with what I need right now to grow.”
“To grow? You’ve grown. You’ve sacrificed, you’ve–”
“Natasha,” he sighs. “It’s not a sacrifice to serve my country, to help protect its people. It’s an honor.”
“Okay, okay, it’s an honor. But so is being the CEO of de la Porte, isn’t it? It means he trusts you to protect his world, his family, his–”
“Natasha–” he interrupts, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“And what if you grow, whatever that means, and then you come back and then decide you need to grow again? I mean, will it ever be enough?”
“It’s hard to explain, but it’s who I am. And if he loves me, he’d respect that. Right now, he’s pissing all over something I love.”
“You love Maisie, but you could never say it. You… you…you.” I snap my mouth shut to stop the stuttering and take in a deep breath. “How can you not tell her, but you can love a country and say it? I don’t understand, Oliver! Is it because–?”
“The night Maisie passed, I said it, and she said she knew.” He looks down. “Some things you don’t have to say, Natasha, because they just are. And some people are drawn to protecting and serving.”
“Well, th
en you leave, and I swear to God I’m going to be out of control, Oliver. I’m going to taunt her, I’m going to poke the bear, I swear it. I’m going to–”
He smiles sadly. “Poking a dead bear isn’t really unsafe. Someone made sure she was ruined. I can guess who that was. Better yet, I can show you in a digital trail.”
“But you can’t, because you don’t work for de la Porte anymore.”
“Three months, Natasha. I’m taking a three month leave to do what I need to do.”
“And when you return, what if they don’t hire you back?”
“Legally, that would be a problem. But I wouldn’t push it that far. If he decides to do that, then that’s cool.”
“And what will you do for the rest of your life, huh?”
He waves his hand around the room. “Live the eternal summer. Enjoy what Maisie left me. Carry on her legacy. Or maybe work at the golden arches.”
“Do you hate me so much that you’d rather face the possibility of death to avoid me?”
“I can assure you I’m not going to be facing death.”
“But you hate me.”
“No, Natasha, I don’t hate you. Not at all.”
I cover my face with my hands and try not to let my emotions cause me to lose it completely. “Please don’t do this. I beg you, please don’t.”
When I feel his arms surround me, the inevitable happens, I lose it.
“Shhh, things will be fine, just like that damn song says.”
I wrap my arms around him and fall.
I fall apart.
I fall into despair.
I fall deeper in love.
I fall… I just fall.
“I just want you to know, I love you.”
His body stiffens, but he doesn’t let go.
More tears pour down my face and I wait for him relax, to tell me he feels the same, to say…. Something, anything.
He doesn’t.
Stepping back, I slap the tears from my face and take in several deep breaths so that when I speak, it’s clear.
“When you walk out that door, I give you every dream I ever dreamed, every wish I ever wished, every prayer I have ever prayed, they all go with you. I don’t want them anymore. I won’t want you ever again. But you take them, you fucking take them, Oliver, and you be happy.”
