Touch Screen: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Yes, I do.”

  Finally, I thought, an honest answer.

  “I’ve been there for some of the story hours and a fundraiser. Don’t you have a little boy? Bleach blond hair? What’s his name?”

  “Gee. Gee McKay.”

  “That’s right. Katie loves that his name is a letter. It’s a nickname, right?”

  “Yes.”

  And there we go again. Another vague answer.

  “Katie is your daughter?”

  Emily looked at Jess. “Well, she’s Jess’ daughter.”

  “She’s our daughter,” Jess growled softly. “Once we’re married, Emily will start the process to legally adopt her. We begin the process, and she will be our daughter.”

  “That’s very…romantic,” Britton sighed, and Jess and Emily both looked at her.

  “Are you coming tomorrow to Tom’s boat party? It’s a tradition,” Emily asked.

  I still had my hand on Britton’s back and I felt her stiffen.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You should come,” I interjected. “I could pick you up in the morning.”

  “I have to work,” she addressed Emily. “But thank you.”

  “Saturday then?” Emily continued. “For the fireworks of Harbor Days?”

  I was worrying that Emily was being a bit pushy and I didn’t know why she was pursuing it so much. It was obvious Britton wasn’t comfortable.

  “We’ll see,” Britton replied, noncommittally.

  “Fireworks?” a small, excited voice came from next to me. I peered down to see the blond hair inches from my leg.

  I hardly noticed the expression on Emily’s face as she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

  “Mommy, can we go? Please.” Gee was giving Britton a pouty lip with wide twinkling brown eyes that were meant to entice, and I had to laugh. Britton bit her lip and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

  “We’ll see, Gee. Okay? We have plans Friday that might keep you up too late for a Saturday night repeat.”

  I remembered that Britton mentioned the Friday night movie for the festival. Wasn’t that the one outside in the park? It was an animated movie and it would be shown on an inflatable screen near the water’s edge. It would be where we’d first met, and I knew I was going to bump into her at that movie on purpose, just like I had the first time.

  Take 17

  Under the Moonlight

  As the partygoers dispersed, and my family and closest friends slowly headed home, I walked the dark road toward my car. Britton had left a while before with a tired Gee holding her hand. I saw Ben pick the child up for Britton and escort her home, and I again felt a pang of jealousy, which I laughed at because Ben was fifteen. It wasn’t his age, though, but his action that upset me. I thought I might want to be the one to carry Gee and walk Britton home.

  As this thought crept through my mind, I still felt the little arms wrapped around my neck and the quiet voice that answered me when I tried to reassure him after the near bike accident. There was something familiar about the boy, and yet I knew that could not be possible. I had never met him before. I blew the sensation off as recognizing that he was Britton’s son.

  I gazed again at the sky as I walked. The late night had grown chilly and a few clouds rolled over the bright moonlight. I glanced in the direction of Leo’s house. Britton’s house. I didn’t notice her sitting on the low porch until I was almost past the small cottage.

  “Britton?” I whispered loudly.

  “Hey.”

  I crossed the short lawn without an invitation. Britton sat on the long bench beside the front door with the light off. She had a dark blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her feet were tucked up under her. Her flip-flops lay on the wooden floor under the bench. I helped myself to a seat next to her. We were quiet for several minutes before I spoke.

  “I forgot how peaceful and quiet it can be here.” I looked thoughtfully up at the sky exposed above the covered porch. “The stars are amazing.”

  “Can’t see the stars in California?”

  “Not where I live. In Los Angeles, my apartment is too much in the city. In Malibu, I guess I hardly look.”

  “Don’t look at the moon, huh?”

  I turned to face her. She seemed lost in thought as she stared at the darkness.

  “I’m so busy at times, I just…I lose focus. Which is ironic since this was a theme in my film,” I laughed slightly.

  “Well, it’s easy to forget.”

  “Is it?”

  Silence.

  “Have you forgotten, Britton?” I asked my question so quietly that the silence that followed made me think she hadn’t heard me.

  “No, Gavin, I haven’t forgotten. But it’s also different. It’s not a matter of forgetting, but rather not thinking about it.”

  “Are you saying you try not to think of me?” I tried a playful smile as I scanned her face. I reached for a piece of her loose hair, but stopped myself when I saw her flinch backward.

  “I try,” she whispered.

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not well, lately.”

  I smiled further, this time to myself.

  “Me neither,” I replied softly.

  Britton cleared her throat.

  “So you’re here for Jess’ wedding? So exciting for him to find love again.” Her words were genuine.

  “Well, it might actually be for the first time, really. I don’t know if you remember Debbie, but she wasn’t a prize really. And then she got pregnant and trapped him into marriage.”

  Britton shifted her legs to dangle below her. She gripped the edge of the bench and slid forward a bit.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “No, really. She was pregnant, and Jess just wanted to do the right thing even though she wasn’t the right girl.”

  Britton slid completely to the edge of the bench now and wrapped the blanket tighter around her.

  “Cold?”

  “Yes. I should probably get inside to check on Gee.”

  I nodded, but didn’t move from my spot on the bench.

  “Why were you out here?”

  “Trying to not think.”

  I bit my own lip.

  “How was that working?”

  “It wasn’t.”

  I slid closer to her, and this time I pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  “What were you trying not to think about?” I whispered in a low, raspy voice.

  “Gavin,” she said softly. It was that same tone that distracted me, letting me know she wasn’t going to fight. I didn’t want to fight, either. I wanted to kiss her. Desperately.

  “Tell me,” I ran my finger around her ear and slid my hand to the back of her neck.

  “Gavin,” she said again softly. I could almost taste her lips. I wondered if they felt the same, tasted the same. Watching her bite her bottom lip, I was sure they would.

  “Tell me,” I whispered as I leaned closer.

  “I…I can’t,” she said so softly I barely heard her.

  “Why?” But I didn’t wait for a reply. I leaned forward and brushed her lips gently with mine. I didn’t actually kiss her as much as rub my lips lightly across hers from left to right, and then back again.

  “Gavin,” she said in soft warning.

  I kissed the side of her mouth lightly and sensed her chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly. Her breathing was becoming more pronounced. She was holding the rest of her body very still.

  “Let me kiss you,” I asked softly, dangerously low, but I knew I could hardly stop myself if she said no. When she didn’t answer, I pulled back, and much like our first kiss, she followed me. It was like we were magnetically drawn to each other and I could feel the electrical charge between us despite the lack of contact.

  I closed the gap. I was harsh at first and her stillness told me so, but I relaxed slightly and softened my mouth against hers. She responded. Slowly our lips entangled as if we were trying
to find each other after all this time. We were working at searching for that familiarity, as if saying I know I know you somehow, let me keep looking. The discovery of lips became firmer, and the gentle strokes turned into a slight pull of bottom lips, and soft tongues, hesitantly reaching out to lick each other.

  I couldn’t take the torture and I pressed my body forward, sliding my hands up her neck and into her hair. I was holding her head and I tilted her slightly to increase the pressure building between us. Britton opened her mouth and I took the invitation. Our tongues collided in a familiar dance, and true to my memories of her, she pressed herself against me in response. Her chest was raised and I could feel her breasts lightly brush my arms as she twisted. She slid her hands up my arms and wrapped them firmly around my biceps. It was as if she was holding onto me, and I felt her tug me, gently pulling me toward her, when we heard a cough.

  “Um…sorry, Britton. I just…I didn’t mean…I just wanted to go inside.” Ben awkwardly crossed the porch and pulled the screen door toward him too forcefully. It hit his foot and bounced back against the frame loudly sounding like a gunshot in the quiet darkness.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled again, clearly embarrassed.

  When he finally made it through the door, a light came on over the porch and I had to laugh at the old feeling of Uncle Leo giving this subtle warning that it was time for Britton to come inside. The light lit up Britton’s face, and for once she let her blonde hair hang down to cover her. I used my finger to lift her chin.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “You have plans,” she reminded me.

  “Come with me.”

  “I can’t. I have to work.”

  “Call in sick.”

  “Gavin,” she giggled. It was that tone again.

  “Tomorrow night then?”

  “I have plans,” she laughed. Right, the movie, I thought.

  “I could meet you?” I hesitated.

  “It’s a kid’s movie,” Britton laughed softly again.

  “I don’t care. I just want to spend time with you.”

  “Gavin,” she sighed.

  “Tomorrow,” I said. I wasn’t asking. I leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips one last time before standing. I stepped off the low porch in one stride and crossed the short lawn before looking back. She was leaning against the wooden beam that supported the roof, watching me walk away.

  Take 18

  Under the Moonlight

  I was too exhausted for mental movie images tonight. The pictures in my head were blurred together. I couldn’t see clearly, but I could feel, and what I felt were Britton’s lips on mine. Her hands tugging me to her. I wanted her. I wanted to experience her again, and my body was responding to those thoughts.

  I dragged myself past the main desk, hoping the evidence of my physical stimulation wasn’t too obvious. I entered the elevator for my fifth floor room, rode up in blissful silence, and opened my door to find Zoe.

  “Surprise,” she said softly.

  She was sipping directly out of a champagne bottle, dressed scantily in a strapless top that looked like lingerie and short shorts in a satiny material. Her red lipstick was wearing off from her lips surrounding the bottle.

  “You’re late,” she slurred.

  I grunted in response.

  “Where have you been?” she purred as she set the bottle down on the floor between her bare feet. She leaned seductively forward in the chair she perched in as she faced me.

  “Tonight was my premiere,” I replied, my voice giving away how I felt. Drained. I was emotionally drained at seeing Zoe in my room.

  “I know.” She stood up and sauntered toward me. I would have normally given into this display. This show was vaguely familiar and I called it her dance of dismay. She had done something wrong, and this temptress act was meant to bring me to her. It was about forgiveness, from me.

  “My plane was delayed and I missed the connecting flight. There’s only one way to get to this small town. The cab could bring me here, but I didn’t know where the party was,” she pouted. “So I’ve been having a little celebration myself while I waited for you.”

  She pulled up against me and began to unbutton my shirt. She leaned forward to kiss my neck and I felt repulsed. For the first time, I literally felt physically ill from her touch. I pushed her gently back from me and her eyes widened.

  “You want to play hard to get? Want it a little rougher tonight?” she hissed.

  I ignored her. I’d never been rough with her, at least not in a way she didn’t want from me.

  “Zoe, stop it. What are you doing here? Really?” I knew the answer. I just knew it was something more.

  She paused before her act continued. “I wanted to surprise you. See your show.” She tried to wiggle against me again.

  “Now the real reason,” I asked as I stepped back and ran a hand through my wavy dark hair.

  “Daddy said I should be here.”

  I wished she’d slapped me instead; it would have stung less than her words. She wasn’t here for me. She had never been there for me. All my worry that people would think I was using her, and she was useless.

  “I can’t do this,” I said dryly.

  “I flew all this way, Gavie. I need to do this.” She reached for my belt buckle and I was stunned. She got as far as unbuckling it and pulling it from my jeans before I stopped her hands.

  “I mean, I can’t do this. Period. Us. Me and you. We can’t be together anymore.”

  Zoe stilled.

  “Who is she?”

  “What?”

  “You would never leave me unless there was someone else, Gavin.” I sensed that Zoe’s own paranoia at her unfaithfulness was making her senseless. There was no one else. Not in the sense Zoe meant. I willed myself not to think of Britton.

  “It’s not someone else, Zoe. It’s us. We aren’t good together, and you know it.”

  Zoe sighed and stepped back from me.

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “I…I think so.” I seemed surprised. Is that what I was saying? I didn’t want to be with her anymore? What will happen to my career? I selfishly thought.

  “Look,” she said calmly, more authoritative than seductive, “it’s been a long day for you and a helluva day for me trying to get here. Let’s just get some sleep and we can talk in the morning.” She patted my chest, which I suddenly found patronizing, and walked around me for the bathroom.

  I had a difficult time lying next to Zoe that night. I suggested she get a separate room, but she refused and I knew the place was full anyway from the festival. I lay next to her, uncomfortable and staring at the white spackled ceiling. I had kissed Britton only a few hours earlier, and yet I felt more like I was betraying her by lying next to Zoe than the fact I had been unfaithful to Zoe with that kiss.

  The morning didn’t come fast enough, but I knew the day would be even longer. Zoe’s flight wasn’t until 6:30 in the evening. She’d decided not to return directly to California, but to travel on to New York since she was almost half way there. I didn’t want to spend the day with her, but I had spent three years with this woman and I couldn’t set her free in this small town without me. I also knew I didn’t want to take her home with me, but I couldn’t disappoint Ethan or Jess for that matter. We had boating planned for today, and Zoe would be going with me.

  She’d never met my parents. They hadn’t made the trip to California again after they attended my graduation from UCLA, and I met Zoe after that. They didn’t have the money, and although I offered to pay for the airline tickets, my dad refused. When Mum’s cancer resurfaced over eighteen months ago, Dad used that as his next excuse. Ethan met her on a rare Spring Break visit during his junior year right before he got kicked out of college. The interaction hadn’t gone well, and Ethan strongly disliked Zoe.

  Before I could tackle my family and Zoe, I needed coffee. Zoe wanted to see this so-called small town America, Traverse City. She knew a few famou
s stars had homes further north in Harbor Springs and she couldn’t grasp that the distance was over an hour away. As we walked through town, Zoe kept complaining that she didn’t see any film or television stars.

  “Where is everyone? This is a film festival. Why isn’t anyone famous walking around?”

  “It’s not that kind of festival, Zoe. These are independent directors and movie companies. Besides, I told you who had been here,” I sighed. I had already explained to her that earlier in the week a few Michigan-born celebs had been seen in town or at various movies. I wasn’t into the film star sightings like Zoe. I was more interested in the art of the filmmaker, not the whiny actor or actress on the other side of the camera.

  I was holding my breath as we walked the main street before the stores officially opened. I remembered that Britton said she had to work and I prayed it would be too early to see her. I avoided the end of the street with the bookstore and the coffee shop, directing Zoe to another place at the opposite end of the strip. As we crossed the street, past the brewery restaurant, I caught sight of Britton ahead of me. She was holding on to Gee’s hand as he swung his arm back and forth. Their backs were to me.

  I felt my heart thump and I was sure it was for several reasons. I wanted to be with them. I wanted Gee to hold my hand like he did last night as we walked back to the party from Britton’s home. I wanted to hold Britton’s hand as well, and I thought of our kiss. But then I thought of Zoe and I knew if Britton saw us, it would be hard to explain in the moment.

  My prayers were not answered. Britton and Gee stopped to admire something in a store window less than a block ahead of Zoe and me. I wanted to turn Zoe to look at something as well, but Gee caught my eye when he turned to speak to his mother and he pointed in my direction. I would have rather melted into the sidewalk than face the awkward interaction that would happen next.

  “Gavin!” I heard his small voice call down the street. The boy started running toward me and I bent down to scoop him up.

  “Gee?” I heard Britton’s panicked voice.