Sweet tb-2

by Erin McCarthy

  “Dude, what the hell?” Tyler asked him, then looked at me. Pulling me back from the broken glass Tyler asked, “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Get your goddamn hands off her,” Riley said, taking a step toward Tyler, hands clenching into fists.

  “Whoa.” Tyler looked at his brother in shock. “Take it down a notch, Riley.”

  “I’m going outside,” I said, striding through the kitchen and shoving the back door open and plunking myself on the top of the picnic table, my feet on the bench. I checked my phone. Robin had answered.

  For real? I can be there in 10.

  Thanks.

  There was a pack of cigarettes lying on the table and I picked it up and took one out. Cramming it in my mouth, I grabbed the lighter and flicked it on. I sucked hard, and immediately I got a bit lightheaded. Blowing it out, I took a shuddering breath and tried to calm down, the blood vessels in my head feeling like they were constricting in response to tension and nicotine.

  The back door opened and Tyler came out. He looked at the cigarette and shook his head. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” I took another drag. It tasted like total ass, and the cloud rising in front of my face was hazy and stung my eyes, but I was feeling defiant. “What is he doing in there? He didn’t wake the boys up, did he?”

  “Of course they woke up. Riley said he tripped on the lamp cord and they went back to bed. Now he’s cleaning up the mess and swearing up a blue streak. Then if I had to take a guess, he’ll go in the basement and lift weights for an hour, then he’ll start drinking.” Tyler sat down next to me. “What the hell happened?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, staring at the burning end of the cigarette. Amazing how quickly the paper could burn, without me even doing anything to it. “I called Robin to pick me up. She’ll be here any second.”

  I half expected Tyler to try to talk me out of it, to suggest that I go into the house and work things out with Riley, but he didn’t.

  “That’s probably the best thing for tonight. When Riley’s temper explodes, it’s better to give him space. He is like our father in that way.”

  “I don’t think Riley wants to be compared to your father.”

  “No, I’m sure he doesn’t. Doesn’t make it any less true. But the difference is, Riley doesn’t mean to hurt anyone. He just says things, and he doesn’t always think through how it will be taken, you know what I’m saying?”

  So this was Tyler trying to tell me to go easy on his brother. “Just because he doesn’t mean to doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I said, handing Tyler the cigarette. I didn’t want it.

  He took it from me and put it to his mouth. “True. But I have to tell you, Jess, Riley doesn’t let girls get close to him. He’s put himself out there for you.”

  I looked at my feet, still bare from getting into bed with Riley. I needed to redo my pedicure. The paint was chipped. “I know. I’ve put myself out there, too. And Riley used that against me.”

  The back door flew open, and Riley stood there, looking enraged. “We need to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Get in the goddamn house,” he said.

  Like that was going to make me comply? I bristled. “Screw you.”

  “Not tonight.”

  That was so out of line, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and threw it at him.

  He caught it in his left hand.

  I should have whipped the glass ashtray at his head instead. It would have been a lot more satisfying to knock him unconscious.

  Headlights flooded the driveway and I hopped off the table, grabbing my purse. “I’ll talk to you later, Tyler.”

  Tyler didn’t say anything.

  I gave Riley a glare. “You, I don’t want to talk to at all.”

  “Don’t walk away, Jessica, I’m not kidding.”

  He started toward me and I ran.

  * * *

  Robin and I curled up on her sofa under a squishy comforter and drank chocolate milk, watching The Notebook. She was crying. I felt numb.

  She was already living in the house that we had rented for the following school year with Kylie and Rory. The previous tenants, graduating seniors, were still living there, but Robin had the one empty bedroom that had belonged to an overachiever who already had secured a job in finance and moved into a trendy apartment.

  My parents were supposed to pay for my portion of the rent once the fall semester started, but I had no idea if I was going to be able to manage that on my own now. I had figured I would let my friends rent my spot to someone else and I would stay with Riley, but how could I do that now?

  I wanted to cry, but it was like the tears were trapped inside me, along with a scream of frustration. It was like my heart had actually been removed from my body and left back at Riley’s, beating on the kitchen table. I was feeling weird and morbid and not like me at all. Like I was so angry that it was smothering all my other emotions.

  Robin hooked her arm through mine and leaned on my shoulder. “Do you ever wonder if you have any idea what you’re doing?” she asked, her voice melancholy.

  “Um, yes, daily.” That was the problem. I was sure I had convictions, but I couldn’t figure out who I was supposed to be. Who I wanted to be. Who I could be.

  Riley was blowing up my phone with “I’m sorry” and asking to see me. I wasn’t answering. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain that what he had done had seemed like a huge betrayal. That I had spent my life seeking approval, and never getting it, and I needed it without question from him. I needed to trust that he not only loved me and was attracted to me, he liked me.

  “I did something awful,” Robin said in a small voice, her eyes red and weepy, hair falling out of her sloppy bun.

  Looking at her curiously, I said, “What?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. But I’m wondering if I even know myself at all.”

  “You do,” I reassured her. “But we all fuck up sometimes. It’s okay. You just have to forgive yourself.”

  “We need to forgive other people, too,” she said, giving me a long look. “Stop being so angry all the time.”

  That was a direct hit at me. I knew there was truth to it.

  Anger was an easy emotion to control. It was a powerful one. It didn’t allow you to be passive or dominated or hurt. You couldn’t be vulnerable if you were lashing out at someone.

  Yet it also kept me from ever reaching that place of trust I was looking for, the place I was demanding Riley arrive at, without me.

  But if I opened up that box I tightly kept my emotions, in who knew what might come spewing out?

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the middle of my Sunday night shift at work, my hair slipping from its bun, I rushed to the table that had just been seated. “Hi, my name is Jess—”

  I cut off when I saw that it was Riley sitting at the table by himself, giving me a sheepish smile.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked uneasily, glancing around the restaurant. No one was looking at us.

  “Eating?” He shrugged. “You won’t answer my texts or my calls. I needed to talk to you.”

  I should have known that he wouldn’t accept my silence. Truthfully, I knew I couldn’t keep ignoring him, but I needed more than a few hours to get my head on straight. The plan had been to talk to him on Monday, after he got off work. “This isn’t the place.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Look, I’m really, really sorry about last night. I talk before I think and shit comes out that shouldn’t. I was half asleep, it just slipped out.”

  He wasn’t getting it. That wasn’t really the problem. “Except that you obviously were really bothered by the idea of how many guys I’ve been with, so I needed to hear that, to know that. You obviously don’t respect me.”

  “No, it’s not that.” His hand came out, like he was going to take mine, but he stopped himself. “It�
�s pure jealousy, which is totally different from judgment. I know being jealous is wrong, I know that, and I want to get ahold of it, but the thing is, Jess, I’ve never felt the way about a girl the way I feel about you. I love you.”

  Oh, God. I took a deep breath, my heart squeezing. It was so hard to think when he was looking at me like that, his brown eyes so big and sincere and pleading.

  “I want to be important to you. Special.” He shook his head and gave a soft laugh. “Do you know how stupid I feel saying that? I think my balls just dropped to the floor.”

  My fingertips were shaking, and I wanted desperately to kiss him, to lean forward and feel his mouth on mine. He loved me, and I believed him. “It takes a real man to be honest. And you are important to me. The most special guy I’ve ever met. The guy. But last night I needed you to be there for me, and you put that jealousy on me.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry. Please come home tonight. Please. I’ll pick you up after work.”

  “It’s not my home,” I said, though I wasn’t even sure why I said that. It wasn’t the time or the place to get into it.

  “Yes, it is. And I owe you a true apology in it.”

  “Jessica!” One of the other servers went rushing past me, giving me an exasperated look, her tray filled with drinks. “Table thirty-seven.”

  Shit. “Give me five.” I rushed off to the bar to put in orders from the table I had greeted before Riley and I ordered a beer for him.

  “Who is the hottie you were talking to?” Mandy the bartender asked, with a speculative look over at Riley.

  “That’s my boyfriend,” I told her because I already knew I was going to go home with Riley and I was going to listen to what he had to say. I was going to give him the ear that I never got with my family, the right to explain himself without having already made my decision.

  “Oh, wow, lucky you.”

  She had a point, because how many other guys did I know who would have come to a restaurant by himself to beg me for forgiveness? None. Tyler was right—Riley had put himself out there for me.

  So I walked carefully in the shoes I had borrowed from Robin, which were a half size too small, since I’d run out without clothes, and went back to Riley’s table. “Okay, you can pick me up tonight. I’ll come home with you.”

  “Really?” He looked so ridiculously pleased that my heart swelled. “Cool. Awesome.” He picked up the bottle of beer a server over twenty-one had brought him. “Thanks for the beer, by the way.”

  “Well, I had to order you something or people were going to think it was really weird that you were sitting here by yourself not eating or drinking anything.”

  “Yeah, but you knew the right brand. That was sweet.”

  Or observant. But I smiled, because he was just so gorgeous, and he understood me. He saw in me something more than anyone else did and that was an amazing feeling. “Sweet, that’s me. Jessica Sweet. Now you have to order some food or I’m going to get fired.”

  He grinned. “Can I have some hot wings? And mozzarella sticks? And maybe some potato skins. Suddenly I’m hungry.”

  “Oh my God. I hate you,” I told him with an exasperated laugh. “Fine. But when you die of a heart attack, I’m going to say I told you so.”

  “As long as you do a shot of whiskey over my casket, it’s all good.”

  “Don’t die,” I said, suddenly serious. “Don’t leave me.”

  His expression changed, too, and he shook his head solemnly. “I won’t leave you. Trust me, that is the last thing in the world I want.”

  * * *

  After getting yelled at by my boss at the end of my shift, I had to promise that my boyfriend would never show up at the restaurant again. Then I went into the parking lot, Riley’s car idling as he waited for me.

  “I got bitched out,” I told him as a greeting. “Apparently other customers don’t think they should have to wait for their dinner while you and I work out our personal shit.”

  “Selfish bastards,” he said, before leaning over and giving me a soft kiss. “Sorry. I really am. For everything.”

  “I know.” I did.

  “I want to show you something before we go home,” he said. “Do you mind?”

  Suspicious, I eyed him. “Is it perverted?”

  “No. It’s fucking romantic, that’s what it is.”

  I pressed my lips together, wanting to laugh. “Well, in that case, absolutely.”

  He pulled out and started to drive out of Hyde Park, a neighborhood of families where the chain restaurant was, and up the winding streets of Mt. Adams, an artsy area of young professionals. My friends and I never went there because it was for the martini and Ann Taylor crowd, tapas bars and top-shelf liquor. I started to worry that Riley was trying to impress me with a nice dinner out or something, though I couldn’t imagine where we could eat at eleven at night. I was in no way dressed for public. I wasn’t even dressed to clean the house. I had on skinny jeans, a white T-shirt with a marinara stain on it, and the Converse that were pinching my feet.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t sound so scared.” Riley glanced over at me. “We’re going somewhere private. I never told you about my grandmother, did I?” he asked, in a total change of subject.

  “No.”

  “My grandmother was this tiny Irish woman who was the toughest woman I ever met. She worked two jobs and she buried two alcoholic husbands.” He shot me a rueful glance. “I guess addiction runs in the family. But she was fair and loving and even though she died when I was seven, I think she taught me more about being a decent person in that short time than my mom did in my whole life.”

  “That’s awesome. It’s good you had her in your life.”

  “She was Catholic, even though I didn’t know what that meant exactly when I was a kid. I just thought it meant you had to wave your hand around your face when something bad happened. It also meant you got to drink wine at church. But anyway, she lived in the neighborhood we live in now, but before every Easter, on Good Friday, she would take me to the church here, in Mt. Adams, for what they call Praying the Steps. People climb the ninety-some steps to the church starting at midnight, praying the rosary or the stations of the cross. I didn’t know what any of that meant, and frankly, I still don’t.” Riley pulled the car over and pointed. “Those are the stairs. See how steep they are? Picture being five years old and seeing thousands of people winding up those steps, murmuring. It was how I first understood what it means to believe in something. Because that was faith.”

  I nodded, my throat tight. “I know exactly what you mean. It must have been beautiful.”

  “It was.” He turned off the car and studied me, his hand brushing my cheek. “I want you to know that what I believe in is us. You and me. Will you walk up the stairs with me? The view up there is amazing. The whole city.”

  “Yes,” I said, understanding that he was asking more of me than that. He was asking if I was in, with him. “I would love to.” My throat was tight, my heart pounding. Riley had taken a risk, coming to work, bringing me here. He had believed deeply enough in his feelings to expose them to me, and I was overwhelmed by how amazing that was. I wanted to give him that back, to try to figure out how to crack open my heart and display it for him.

  I wasn’t sure I knew how, but I was going to try.

  He came over and held his hand out for me. I took it, and we strolled up the stairs, the night air blissfully lacking in humidity, a warm breeze rising off the river. My thighs started to burn by the twentieth or so step, but I didn’t care.

  “This is such a cool view,” I said, hair blowing across my face. The air smelled like summer, like trees and a faint tinge of something sweet that I couldn’t identify.

  “It’s even better at the top.”

  It was. When we finally reached the last step, me panting a little from the effort, the lights of the city were spread out in front of us, reflecting off the river. “Wow, it’s amazing.”

  “
Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Riley took me onto the platform in front of the church and we leaned against the railings. “When I’m up here, it’s a whole different perspective on the world. Down there.” He pointed in the direction of his neighborhood. “It’s not a pretty place on the ground. Life gets a little ugly in the details, but up here, taken as a whole, you realize the world can be pretty awesome. When I need to remember that, I come here and climb these steps.”

  “I can see that,” I said, my fingers gripping the railing, eyes following the curve of the river, the water shimmering and softly lapping against the shore.

  “I’m not a deep guy,” he told me. “I have my GED and I’d rather talk about music than politics, and I have a temper that I try to control, but sometimes it gets the best of me. I’m not really a good catch for a girl like you, I know that. But . . .”

  “No, don’t say that.” I put my hand over his mouth to stop those words, knowing they weren’t true, but Riley caught my hand in his and pulled it down.

  His brow furrowed with the serious determination of his words. “I may not have a college degree or a six-figure income, but I will love and respect and cherish you with everything inside me, and when I fuck up, I will apologize. So what I’m saying is that I was wrong, and I have no right to be jealous. What happened before me is none of my business. I acknowledge that, I understand that.”

  “Thank you. And for a guy who claims to not be very deep, you have an amazing way with words.” Something was happening in me. With each word he spoke, he removed a brick from the wall I’d built over my heart. I was breathing hard, sucking air in and out of my lungs almost like I was having a panic attack, but it wasn’t that.

  I realized that I knew exactly what it was. I was in love. I had gone and fallen completely in love with Riley and the swelling inside me, the tidal wave of emotion that was overwhelming me, was the single most profound experience of my life. It felt . . . epic.

  “Riley . . .” I took his face in my hands and I stared up at him, wanting to memorize this moment, to take in every tiny detail of his face, his mouth, his eyes. “I love you.”