Falling Stars (Thompson Sisters)

by Charles Sheehan-Miles

  She swallowed, her eyes wide and tearing up, then she leaned close to me and whispered the words in my ear. “Forgive me?”

  “I do,” I replied instantly.

  “I do,” she said.

  And then, for the first time in weeks, she was in my arms again.

  Not the response I expected (Crank)

  It was a little bit over twelve hours from our unscheduled stop beside the road before we finally reached the banks of the Mississippi River at Memphis, Tennessee. The sun was setting behind us, casting the entire sky in shades of yellow and gold as Carrie turned the Mustang onto the Hernando de Soto Bridge.

  Julia leaned against me in the back seat and together we stared up at the arches of the bridge, the spans lit up by rows of bright, twinkling lights.

  For most of the last twelve hours, Julia and I huddled together in the back seat, talking and holding each other. It reminded me all too forcefully how much I missed the simple things. Running my fingers through her hair. Wrapping my arms around her. Listening to her low, earthy chuckle in response to jokes. Sean and Carrie took turns driving, taking us straight through with no stops except for gas and the occasional bathroom break.

  So we caught up. We talked about the good and the bad from our summer. We talked about the tour, and our lives, and our hopes. But most of all we just touched, and reconnected. And loved.

  For twelve hours straight, Sean and Carrie talked about bacteria. About ecology. Computers. Sean shouting in his loud, blaring tone, Carrie responding in her low, rich voice. It was clear she was as big a geek as my brother, and I loved that. I especially loved the fact that she was the only person I’d ever met who could stump him. The only person I’d ever met who knew as much as he did. Carrie loved her science. Loved.

  By the time we were fully into Memphis, the sun was out of sight and darkness had overtaken the city. Carrie kept driving through until we reached the far side of Memphis, then pulled off the highway and followed the signs. Dixie Motor Inn. This looked…fantastic. Rustic. Seedy, really, but it would have beds.

  I was wiped out, but kind of wired too, and an attached restaurant looked like it was still open. Maybe I could get Julia to go there with me so we could talk.

  We parked and I followed Julia inside and she checked us in, because she’d made all the travel arrangements. I couldn’t help but wonder if I should be taking a more active role in this. I mean…she was manager of the band, so she took care of that stuff on the road. But what about now? What was the right answer? I didn’t know anything, except that so far I’d been doing everything wrong.

  We could sort that out. This much I knew: I wasn’t taking anything for granted any more.

  After the desk clerk gave us keys for both rooms—we were in 210 and 212—I said, “Mind if we go talk for a bit over some coffee?”

  She gave me a half-smile. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  So we put our bags in the rooms, me and Sean in one, Julia and Carrie in the other. I wasn’t exactly happy with the arrangement, but first, letting the two seventeen-year-olds room together was a bad idea, and second, up until today Julia and I hadn’t really been speaking much.

  “Hey guys, me and Crank are going to go get some coffee,” Julia announced after we’d sorted out the rooms.

  Sean and Carrie stood there, frozen. Carrie’s eyes darted to Sean, her expression unreadable, then she said, “Okay. We’ll see you guys later.”

  That was odd. Maybe they were fighting or something. I didn’t have time to deal with a couple of teenagers.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Julia gave them an odd look and we turned and walked along the concrete second-floor walkway. It was odd. In the car, we’d touched a lot. Constantly, really. After weeks of us not touching each other, I couldn’t stop myself. Now, suddenly, I felt nervous, and the space between us as we walked toward the stairs felt like a hundred yards if it was an inch.

  I wanted to touch her. I badly wanted to touch her, to hold her hand, or rest my hand on the curve at the small of her back. I loved that curve. I loved the heat of her bare skin under my fingertips, which ached for the sensation of running along the top of her jeans.

  Instead, we walked downstairs. Stiff. Unyielding. Both of us suddenly more awkward than we’d been in a very long time.

  The restaurant was like a downscale, ratty version of Denny’s, which isn’t exactly upscale in the first place. Threadbare carpet muted our footsteps as we entered the restaurant. In the background, most likely in the kitchen, I heard muffled country music.

  A woman just this side of forty greeted us. “Hey there. Two?”

  She led us to our seats and plopped down the menus with a smile. “Jeannie’s gonna be your waitress, she’ll be right with you. Can I get you started with a drink?”

  “Do you have Earl Grey?” Julia asked.

  “Sorry, we don’t have a liquor license, but Stanley’s down the road is open until two.”

  Julia stared at her for a long ten seconds, then shrugged. “Just hot tea, please.”

  “Okay, darlin’. How ‘bout you?” She gave me a disapproving look. It was almost as if she thought that I—the unpleasant barbarian with spiked hair—had kidnapped the perfectly coifed Ivy League Julia.

  “Coke,” I replied.

  She disappeared quickly.

  I stared at Julia for what felt like a long time. “I fucking love you,” I finally said.

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “I love you,” she said.

  Her voice was quieter than mine. And more cautious. I hated that caution. I hated that I was part of the cause.

  “I want us to move past this.”

  Her response was cold and to the point. “I set out on this drive expecting to break up with you at the end.”

  The baldness of her statement hit me like a hammer, closing my throat up and twisting the muscles in my chest. I couldn’t respond. I had no words. The longer I took to respond, the more concerned she looked. Her eyebrows slowly moved together, the furrow in her forehead that appeared in moments of anger suddenly becoming more and more prominent.

  “Say something, damn it.”

  I opened my mouth, unable to think. “I’m paralyzed with fear,” I spit out. Where the hell did that come from?

  She opened her mouth…and just stopped. “What?” she asked, shaking her head. “What? Why?”

  “Because I don’t ever want to lose you and I’m afraid I’ve screwed it up beyond belief.”

  Julia closed her eyes and slowly nodded her head. “Maybe both of us need to do more listening and less reacting.”

  “I wish I’d done more of that when we first left on the tour.”

  “I do too. You know I was never even remotely attracted to Preston. He’s a pompous asshole.”

  “That groupie I kissed smelled bad. I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

  “Why did you kiss her and grab her ass, then?”

  I looked down at the table. I had a lump in my chest, my throat swollen with shame. “I wanted you to be jealous. I wanted you to want me more than you wanted that prick.”

  “I didn’t want him at all.”

  “I didn’t know that. He had everything. Fucking Harvard. He’s rich and connected and smart. He didn’t grow up in Southie.”

  “He isn’t you,” she replied. “You’re the one I want.”

  The waitress appeared with our drinks and we placed our order. While Julia spoke with the waitress, I studied Julia. I examined the arch of her eyebrows, her long eyelashes untouched by mascara. I scrutinized the slight flush at her cheeks and nose. I met her eyes, and when the waitress walked away, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and taking her hand.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said.

  “I have too,” she whispered.

  “It’s not too late, is it?”

  She jerked her head side to side. “It’s not too late.”

  “What do we do to fix it?”

  “What do yo
u think?” she asked.

  I squeezed her hand and said what came into my head, unfiltered by thought or consideration or anything else. “We talk. We love each other. We never stop touching each other. We never stop paying attention to each other.”

  She nodded, so I kept going.

  “We make love. We pay attention.”

  She swallowed audibly. “What else?”

  I sniffed, feeling a wave of painful emotion. “We… We forgive.”

  She nodded rapidly.

  “Julia, I know I already asked this and you already answered it. But… Will you forgive me?”

  Her eyes immediately went bloodshot and wet, almost spilling over. “Will you forgive me?” she whispered.

  “Always,” I replied.

  “Me too.”

  Look. I didn’t expect to say it. I didn’t expect to do it. I’ve never been one for planning ahead. Or thinking very hard about the consequences of my actions. Or my words. So I wasn’t really responsible for the next words that came out of my mouth. It was just my first reaction, my first thoughts. It was what I really wanted. It was me, unfiltered.

  “Julia,” I said suddenly, passionately. “Marry me.”

  She froze, her eyes suddenly wide and shocked, just like I used to look when I got called up in front of Mrs. Stevenson’s eighth grade English class.

  “Don’t think about it,” I urged. “Tell me what you want.”

  “Are you insane?”

  I swallowed. “That’s not the response I hoped for.”

  “You’re fucking nuts, Crank. Nuts. Completely, absolutely crazy.”

  I took a breath, steadying myself. “Then go crazy with me.”

  Her eyes locked on mine, so big I couldn’t see anything else, and she said the words I wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

  They’re both seventeen (Julia)

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” I said. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

  Go crazy with me. He’d really asked me to marry him.

  I’d really said yes.

  Crank smiled that same boyish, lopsided grin I fell in love with. “I’m not either.”

  We left money on the table for our drinks and a tip, then Crank took my hand and we walked out of the restaurant. I felt like every part of my body was alive. Alive with want, alive with need. Alive with desire. Every nerve ending in my body stood at attention, and if someone had touched me right then, I might’ve screamed. Just the touch of our hands as we walked side by side out of the restaurant was so intense, so warm, so beautiful… I wanted it to last forever.

  We fell into step beside each other as we walked slowly down the length of the motel. It was so natural and effortless, I found it easy to forget that we’d barely done this in weeks. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to hug him, hit him over the head or fuck his brains out.

  His question was abrupt. “What do you say we kick Sean out of my room? Let’s send them off with money to go see a movie or something.”

  Maybe all three.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  He winked and leered. “I want to show you my tattoos.”

  After a second, his voice dropped and he raised his hands to both sides of my face. As our eyes met, I felt my cheeks heat up. The emotional connection between us was urgent and intense.

  “Jesus, Julia. I want to hug you forever. I want to hold you in my arms all night long. I want to make love to you. But more than that… I want to touch you. I want you to be mine.”

  I put my arms over his shoulders, pulling him in closer as his hands moved to my waist.

  “If you want me to be yours, you might just have to make me yours, buddy.”

  Crank just grinned, then ran his teeth along the right side of my neck. I felt goosebumps rise to the surface of my already too sensitive skin.

  “Let’s go,” he growled and broke away, grabbing my left hand and pulling me along behind him.

  I felt a tense excitement, familiar and strange at the same time. My breath was shortened, my skin literally tingling.

  “I’ll talk to Sean,” he said.

  “I’ll talk to Carrie.”

  Fifteen seconds later we got to our doors and then the damnedest thing happened. Crank opened the door to his and Sean’s room, no problem. Mine wouldn’t open. I tried it again, sliding the key card into the slot. The light turned green, the door clicked, the knob turned, but the door wouldn’t open.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “It lights up green. I think the deadbolt is on.”

  “Huh. Sean?” he called into his room. He stepped inside, and I heard him call Sean’s name again.

  A moment later he came out, looking confused. “I don’t know where he could have—”

  I tilted my head, looking Crank in the eye. He saw my look and stopped talking. I darted my eyes toward the other room.

  “No,” he said. “Sean’s seventeen.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “No…” he repeated. “Not like I was… Besides… Him and Carrie?” He looked confused. Baffled. Idiotic.

  “They’re both seventeen. And they bond over spiders and fruit flies and I don’t know what all else.”

  Crank literally staggered. “Dad will kill me.”

  “He will not. Jack would just chuckle and give Sean a high five. What’s wrong?”

  “He’s still a kid.”

  I sighed. I took Crank with one arm and knocked hard on my door with the other. “Crank. Shut up. He’s not. Carrie’s not a kid either.”

  “Then… Why are you knocking on the door?”

  I rolled my eyes. A second later, the door cracked a little. The latch was still engaged, preventing it from being opened all the way. Carrie’s eyes peered out at me.

  “What do you want?” she whispered urgently.

  “Do you have birth control?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” she cried, then slammed the door in my face.

  I shrugged. “I’ve done my duty.”

  Crank assessed the situation, then made the correct decision. He took me by the arm and pulled me into the other room, letting the door shut behind us.

  Darkness descended instantly and I began shaking. Hard. I’d promised to forgive. I’d asked for forgiveness. It felt like having a bucket of ice thrown on me. A chill went up my body, goosebumps forming on my arms. We’d been fighting so much, it had been almost three weeks. Three weeks since we’d touched each other. Three weeks since we’d made love. And almost two months of hurt feelings, of anger and miscommunication.

  For just a second, I felt my old mask of chill reserve slip back over me. My mask of pain and ice. The mask which had protected me for years, but then almost destroyed me.

  Crank put his arms around me and I cringed for just a second. Crank had hurt me. He’d gotten jealous and kissed some groupie and grabbed her ass, and next time he might do worse.

  “Let go, baby,” he crooned in my ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hard, then I felt it, the reserve and armor swept away by the low rumble of his voice. He swept his left arm behind me and under my knees, then lifted me off my feet and carried me to the bed.

  My breath caught, then picked up again, noticeably faster and tighter. I felt my pulse at my throat and in my chest. He lowered me to the bed with the care and precision of a surgeon. A faint light shone through the window in a single vertical line that ran the length of his body where he stood over me.

  My breath began to speed again as he unfastened his buttons one by one, slowly uncovering his tanned, muscular skin. Involuntarily, I felt the muscles in my back tighten, arching my back, pressing my breasts against my shirt.

  “What…” I said. My breath came in and out too quickly to make any sense.

  His lips curled up in a crooked grin. Nude now, his erection unashamedly at attention, he leaned toward me and began to peel my t-shirt off. The touch of his fingers against my bare skin caused me to convulse
a little.

  “What…” I said again.

  “I’m going to make love to you now, Julia Thompson.” As he spoke, his eyes looked into mine. Open, exposed, vulnerable.

  I know I’m usually in control. But now I’d lost any control. Crank tugged at the button of my jeans, unzipping them, and pulled them and my panties off in a single, swift motion. I closed my eyes as he moved closer.

  I gasped and jerked as his lips touched the ridge of my hip bone on my right side and both of his hands clamped firmly on my waist. I let out a slow cry as he trailed his lips along my stomach, then nipped at the underside of my ribcage.

  I leaned my head up to kiss him, but he just smiled and shook his head, then kissed my chest just between my breasts. I wanted to tell him stop, to move it along, but then his hand touched me on the stomach and began moving in lazy circles, closer and closer.

  It was excruciating. Every time his hand moved close to me, my hips arched involuntarily. I breathed faster and faster as his lips touched my collarbone. My neck. And then one finger, and another, were inside me, and my world narrowed in like tunnel vision, everything wrapped around the feeling as he slowly spread me open with his fingers, then slipped them deeper and curled them up toward him.

  My muscles tightened around him as he slid his fingers in and out. Slowly. Then faster and faster until I began to shudder. I’d lost awareness of all my surroundings, everything fading in a haze of sensation and touch and love. One wave after another crashed over me and my voice rose higher and higher.

  When he slowed down, I twisted and protested. “Don’t stop!”

  His lips were next to my ear. His hot breath. “Tell me you love me, Julia. Tell me you want me.”

  I sucked in a breath, unable to control myself, and whispered, “I love you, Crank. I want you so badly.”

  His fingers slipped out, leaving me suddenly cold, and his eyes bore into me. “I love you, Julia. No one else. I’m yours.”

  The next few seconds were so intimate they were excruciating. And then he plunged into me.

  His eyelids fluttered and my neck arched back, begging him to kiss it, to bite it, to do whatever he wanted. What I wanted was for him to move fast and hard. But he went slowly, very slowly, gazing into my eyes.