Never Been Kissed: A Never Been Novel

by C.M. Kars

  Matty shrugs, and stares at his feet. “Daddy always looks like he’s gonna cry when he has to check me. So I tell him sorry. It doesn’t help.”

  I ruffle his hair and pretend that I’m okay, that this is okay. It’s not.

  “I’m happy I can do this for you, kid. I’m glad we have Tony here to check if you’re always okay. So there’s no sorry.” I kiss the finger I punctured, and smile big at him even though I think we both know I’m forcing it. Hunter was not what I was expecting. I wanted a badass guy from a fantasy, the guy from the elevator. Hunter’s so real, I’ll need to put myself in a fiction-induced coma for days on end to recover.

  The timer on the oven beeps. I grab Matty underneath his arms and set him down. My phone buzzes. I decide to get the cake out first, but then freeze. What if it’s Hunter and I have no number to call him back? Frak! I lunge for my phone, swipe and bark out a hello, rushing to the oven at the same time. Matty’s laughing at me. I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Sera?” Yep, it’s Hunter.

  “Hey. How are you feeling?” I grab the dishtowel I had put on the counter and make a grab for the cake tin. I check if it’s done, and take it out. It smells so good, I’m not sure I want to share it with anybody.

  “How’s Matty?”

  “He’s awesome. I asked how you were.”

  There’s a scratching sound, like a sheet? “Fine. They’re going to keep me overnight. Did you get his things?” He sounds like he’s so happy to talk to me. Not.

  “Sure did. You’re an awesome artist. Matty promised me you’d draw me something.” I throw a grin at Matty, pushing back the cake tin on the stove top.

  “No,” Hunter says.

  “No?” I stare at the clock on the stove top, telling me the time without seeing it. My friends should be here in a half hour. I should at least make an effort and change. Maybe put on some make-up.

  “No.” Again, deadpan and resolute. The word is an insurmountable wall.

  Heat boils in my belly. I bite down on my back molars, facing away from the kid. “I’ll pay you.” This isn’t important, I know it isn’t. People say no all the time. I’ve been rejected most of my life. Instead of giving me a thicker skin, I’ve been flayed so many times, my skin’s peeling off.

  With him, I don’t want to be rejected. I don’t deserve to be rejected for something like this, a bloody drawing.

  “Still a no.” He’s not going to budge, the steel in his voice says so.

  My spine stiffens, my knees lock. “You want to speak to your son?” I don’t wait for an answer. I put my thumb on the mic and let Matty know I’m going to go change real quick. The little guy nods and I hand him the phone.

  In the safety of my room, I try to hide. I look at all my posters- the classic Batman insignia of the black bat set in yellow; the Dark Knight Rises movie poster with Bane walking away in the distance. I look over to my bookcase, hundreds of books settled there, the spines broken in, white wrinkles of strain running up and down their lengths. My king-size bed because I move around a lot when I sleep. The decal on my laptop that says Goonies never say die.

  Is this it? Am I always going to need this place to hide from life? Why does it feel like giving up? Shame burns hot in my throat. I’m not sure how it came to this, how my life went from one big imagined adventure to ... existing.

  I hurry and grab clothes; jeans and a tank that says Stay Gold, my ode to one of my favourite books, The Outsiders. I run to the bathroom and do the girly thing, concentrating on my eyes – my nicest feature.

  When I come out, Matty is still on my phone, giggling. Who knew Hunter was capable of telling a joke?

  “I’ll sleep well, Daddy, promise. Sera wants to talk to you,” he says, holding out my cell to me.

  Little con artist, I did not! I grab the phone. “Quick question for you,” I say fast, not wanting him to interrupt. “I’m having some friends over and I was wondering if you think that’s a good idea.”

  “Like I give a fuck who you have over,” he growls, that scratching noise comes through the phone again.

  Pain lances through my brain, and I wonder if getting pissed off at Hunter is going to cause me to have a brain aneurysm. “Look arsehole, I don’t know who pissed in your Corn Flakes this morning, but I’m trying to be polite here. Most people return the favour. Is it okay for Matty to be around strangers or do you want him just to hang with me tonight?” I say through clenched teeth.

  Hunter’s quiet for a time, wasting precious seconds of my time then clears his throat. “When are they coming over?”

  “Half hour.”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  I’m going to throw my phone at the wall. “Because maybe I’m being considerate. I can see my friends any bloody time I want. I can’t be with Matty all the time, right? So what’s it gonna be? Yes or no? Tic-toc-tic-toc.”

  Hunter curses on his end. More scratchy sounds against the mic on his phone. “Yeah, it’s fine. Gotta go. Nurse Nazi’s found me.” Disconnect.

  Huh. I stare down at my phone, wondering if I just won an argument.

  “Sera, can I have this cake?” I turn to see Matty staring at the cake tin, like he’s been hypnotized by the smell and potential taste. Matty asks it like he knows the answer is going to be no, still hoping for a yes.

  “Of course you can. I made it special so you can have a piece.”

  His blue eyes get big, his mouth drops open, like I’ve handed him the Elder Wand. He rushes to me, colliding with my quads, wrapping his arms around my legs. He tilts his head back, chin resting on my leg, hair falling back and spiking out in an arc around his head. “Thank you. I wish I was here every day!”

  I snort-chuckle. “I bet you do.”

  “Can we watch Finding Nemo?”

  I nod. “I’m going to cover my eyes when Bruce comes in. I’m afraid of sharks.” Matty finds that hilarious. I don’t. Five rows of sharp teeth, black, soulless eyes, and the capability to smell a drop of blood in a mile radius? Nope.

  The kid settles himself on the couch, wiggling his butt into it, smacking the seat next to him loudly with his palm. I roll my eyes. So demanding.

  When I sit, the little bugger leans close and gives me a wet kiss on my cheek. I feel like I’ve been given a gold medal for doing the dishes. I look at him funny.

  “I forgot to tell you. You look better than a princess!” Matty exclaims with a smile. I don’t believe in compliments. Words don’t really mean anything. Bad people can hide behind sweet words. Good people can maim with harsh ones.

  “What do I look like, then?” I’m not sure I want to know.

  “Princesses have big poofy dresses that you can get lost in.” This is true to a four-year-old. “I might get them dirty. You don’t mind getting dirty. You let me wipe my finger on your shorts.” Hunter’s girlfriend is probably more civilized. She’d likely get a napkin. He shrugs like that should explain everything. “You’re beautiful.”

  I don’t think he’s lying. I hope not. They’re the sweetest words I’ve ever heard.

  A knock comes at the door. I go to the peephole and open the door to let Katie in.

  She smiles at me, stumbling in when she catches a glimpse of Matty on my couch.

  The little guy tilts his head to the side, inquisitive and curious.

  “Who are you?” Matty asks.

  “What?!” Katie squawks. The bowl of guacamole in her left hand wobbles and I lunge for it. I tamp down my need to raise my hands in the air in triumph. “What just happened?” Katie asks. She can’t seem to look away from the little guy, like I conjured him into existence with a spell.

  “Hunter is in the hospital. I offered to watch Matty for the weekend. End of story.”

  Katie shakes her head, like she needs to clear it. I take in her flawless make-up, her long dark hair cascading down her shoulders, over her boobs to hit her ribs. Matty seems fascinated. And there goes whatever small measure of affection he has for me.

  Katie snaps her
fingers. “Details. I need details. What happened to him, is he okay? And why in hell would you offer to watch after a kid for a couple of days?”

  I roll my eyes, and wave Matty over. I watch him glide towards me on his sock-feet, holding onto my leg as he stares up at my best friend.

  “This is my best friend, Katie, Matty. And yeah; it’s not a big deal. I’m just helping Hunter out - he has no one else to watch Matty, alright?”

  I look down at Matty, his neck crooked back to take all of Katie in. She’s still wearing her stilettos from work, and I have no idea how she can stand to walk in them all day long.

  “What’s in the bowl?” Matty asks, pointing to the guacamole in my hands.

  “Guacamole. I always bring guacamole. It’s my specialty,” Katie says, still looking at Matty like he’s a Blast-Ended Skrewt about to tap-dance.

  “Special-tee,” Matty repeats, smiling. “Does it have vegetables in it?” He sticks his tongue out in disgust.

  “Yeah, but you get to eat it with chips. So it’s a win-win.”

  I motion Katie to deposit her stuff on the counter, and lean down to get at Matty’s eye-level. “If you ever feel scared or nervous, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

  He just nods, and doesn’t say anything. “You’re going to tell me when you’re tired, right?” I get another nod. Christ, I should’ve asked Hunter when I was on the phone with him. I should have asked him what to do if Matty wakes up tired, or if his sugar drops, or how often it does, and a whole bunch of other details that are important.

  The bastard had to go and piss me off, and I forgot about Matty; all I thought about was myself. That can’t happen again.

  The boys come together. I swear they should’ve been born quadruplets. All only children, it’s like they found each other for the sole purpose of being a brother to one another. They all come bloody dressed similarly, too. The slacks, shirts and suit jackets – they look like they could all be working for Harvey Specter.

  “Hey, Sera!” Josh says, voice booming. Italian as he is, he has two settings: loud and oh-my-god-my-eardrums. “Uh... why do you have a kid in your apartment?” His eyebrows pop high on his forehead, and his chocolate brown eyes rocket from me to the kid to Katie.

  “Nice to see you too, buddy. I’m fine, thanks,” I say, patting his cheek.

  Josh blinks at me, then swoops in to give me a kiss on each cheek, hard enough that we smack cheekbones. Violence by affection.“I brought Rickard’s. And I want dessert right now.”

  Matty giggles behind me, clutching one of my legs.

  Josh looks down at him, and if he’s thinking something that Matty is clutched so tight to my leg, he doesn’t say it.“Don’t you want to eat dessert first thing? Yeah? Then why you laughing at me, kid?”

  Matty laughs again, completely wrapping an arm around my knee.

  “Josh, Matty. Matty, this is my friend Josh.” I then introduce Matty to Tommy, Alex and Eli.

  Matty takes all this in, and when he wants to, he waves at them.His blue eyes go over each of them, their different heights, their similar clothing.

  “You sure do have a lot of boyfriends, Sera.”

  “I do not!” I can feel my cheeks burning. I look at the kid, completely aghast. He’s four, what does he know about girlfriends and boyfriends? “These are my friends, and none of them are my boyfriend.”

  Matty shakes his head, staring up at me, his chin attached back to the side of my leg.

  “I don’t get it.”

  I grin down at him. Josh belts out his custom-belly laugh that has everyone joining in. And I was nervous about them coming over. My four boys are just oversized kids to begin with.

  “You will when you’re older, my man,” says Tommy, ruffling Matty’s hair. The static raises it up high and around so he looks like he’s got a black halo on. “C’mon, Katie, put the chips out. I’ve got the tomato pizza. Josh has got the beer. Sera’s covered dessert. And you, Alex? Too busy to bring anything?”

  Alex flips him off after opening a Rickard’s. “Kiss my ass, Russia. I was running late from work, alright? Not that I should explain myself to you.” Bloody hell, those two. Like a married couple.

  I feel a tug on my jeans, look down at Matty’s confused face. “I thought his name was Tommy.”

  “It is. He and his family are from Russia,” I explain, one hand waving into the distance.

  Another tug on my jeans. The kid just might pants me. “Where’s Russia?”

  “Far away from here.”

  “Further away than the North Pole?”

  Oh God, we’re not playing this game. “Ummm, well, Russia’s a big country, so I can’t really say we’re closer to the North Pole or not.”

  “What’s a country?” I groan. Kill me. Kill me now. “I’ll tell you when you’re older. Why don’t you go help Katie?” I watch Matty scamper off into my kitchen, staring up at Katie like she’s a goddess. Not fair.

  Tommy laughs, coming up to my side, a hand around my waist. “Are you adopting kids now?” Back in the day, I would notice how good Tommy looks in his suit, or the way his cologne makes me want to permanently attach myself to his neck and sniff all day. But I only do what I want to in the safety of my head and never in the real world. As if Tommy would ever want me.

  “Oh, yeah. I do that in my spare time. You have mail-order brides, I collect children.”

  Tommy smiles, playing with his gold ring that has a Russian crest on it. “Don’t be jealous, kitten. I could add you to my harem any day of the week.”

  “Harem? That would make you a Pascha, not a Czar. Get your terms straight.” Tommy gives me another smile, knows he’s been bested and kisses my cheek.

  I used to have a crush on Tommy, after the first few times after we met. The light brown hair, blue eyes and Russian accent were all super attractive to me, back in the day. But Tommy’s a loose cannon, and I’ve heard too much about his past exploits that I know he would never be faithful. As if he’d ever want me, anyway. But bloody hell, I love it when he calls me kitten. I had a lot of sexy dreams about him calling me kitten when we’re in bed. And now I’m starting to blush.

  We start eating, the boys knocking the necks of their beer bottles together, saluting me with them as I’m not drinking tonight. I make sure Matty gets all the four food groups, heavy on the protein and veggies. I do give him a slice of cake, one little-person-sized and hope he’s too full to eat it all. He eats it all. Shit.

  I’m sweating, waiting for twenty minutes to pass. I’m not sure what Matty’s routine is, but I figure if we check his sugar together a while after he eats, we’ll get a more accurate reading, and I can plan the dose of insulin he’ll need to take care of the food he ate.

  I wash Matty’s hands, making sure he doesn’t have any remnants of sugar from the cake he ate by hand and refused to eat by fork. When I sit him on my kitchen counter, I lick my lips, blowing hair out of my eyes as I swab his finger for the second time today, getting everything ready much quicker than the first time around.

  I hate it that he doesn’t flinch, that he just takes the pain. He shouldn’t have to do that.

  It’s twenty-four. His sugar is twenty-four. Normal is between four and six.

  I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut, sucking back the pain, even as tears threaten to spill over. I sniffle, refusing any tears to fall down my face. My apartment goes quiet. I hear Suits in the background. I only have eyes for Matty, propped up on the kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth.

  “I’m sorry, Matty.” I’ve given my mom injections before and it never bothered me. I don’t know if I can give it to a kid. This should be easy. Then why am I staring at the syringe filled with two units of insulin like its kryptonite?

  I fill the syringe with two units. I don’t know this kid. I don’t know how quick or slow his body is going to react to the insulin. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Heart in my throat, I pinch some skin on his upper arm and stick it in there, gently as I can.r />
  I feel like I’ve shot a fuzzy white bunny by accident when Matty winces. I sob escapes me. I can’t see in front of me. Tears leak out, running down my cheeks. I push the plunger down. I count to ten to make sure no insulin leaks out. I pull out the syringe. I cap it and wrap it in a plastic bag to throw out later.

  “I’m so so sorry, Matty.” I hug his little body, propped up on my counter. I put my hands under his arms, wrap my arms around his ribcage. This is real life. Pain, and suffering, and shit that isn’t fair. I put him on his feet, lean against the counter and ignore my friends. I’m too raw, too open to deal with anything right now.

  Alienation is sometimes the kindest thing anyone can do for you.

  Matty scampers off to sit between Josh and Tommy. Figures.

  A knock echoes about my apartment, and we all glance to the door, like a clan of lemmings, or whatever Timon is from the Lion King. We’re all here. I move to the peephole and my stomach drops out. I swallow fast, since my mouth’s got a wad of spit in it, like I’m about to throw up. I sniffle loudly, enough that if Hunter had Extendable Ears, he’d be deaf right now.

  I open the door, keeping my eyes locked on Hunter’s feet. Of course he wears some black leather boots. All in all, badass.

  “I thought you were supposed to stay the night.” My voice is hoarse and wobbly - I might just start bawling again.

  “I got discharged,” his voice sounds like he’s swallowed gravel. “Where’s Matty?”

  I wave him in, still not looking at him, using my hair as a curtain. Matty runs up to Hunter, giving him a leg-hug. He does the chin-on-the-leg thing to Hunter, smiling up at his Dad like nothing bad happened today.

  “Daddy, all these boys here, they’re not Sera’s boyfriends. They’re her friends,” Matty stresses the last bit. Eli is mid-slurp in his wine and starts choking. Josh, Alex and Tommy laugh, then return to squabbling at how to get my dishes in right in the dishwasher. Katie keeps quiet as she moves behind my kitchen counter, throwing out any remains of food in the garbage.