Vivian's List (Vol. 1)

by Lovell, Haleigh

  “All right.” A reluctant smile appeared and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “It’s a date. You can call it a date. Better?”

  “Better.” Warmth unfurled inside my chest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this date meant more to the both of us than was superficially apparent. “So …” I hesitated. “What do you have in mind for our date?”

  Brushing some loose strands of hair aside, he dropped a tender kiss on my shoulder. “I’ll surprise you. How ’bout that?”

  “Okay.” I let out a soft sigh as he nibbled on my earlobe. “I like surprises.”

  Warm, rhythmic breaths caressed my neck as he trailed wet kisses along my collarbone. “I’ll stop by your room at seven?”

  I swallowed a moan as he gently nipped my skin. “Seven’s perfect.”

  “Vivian Marie Sorenson.” He put a finger under my chin and tilted my face to his. “Did you actually agree to go out on a date with me?”

  “Call it whatever you want.” I sent him a dazzling smile. “Call it whatever you want.”

  Tucked away in a corner, shrouded in near darkness, we had a modicum of privacy amid the crowds. Liam’s arms were wrapped around my waist as we stood in the dark, waiting for one of the most gifted vocalists and composers of my generation to come on stage.

  I smiled at Liam over my shoulder. “How’d you manage to score tickets?”

  “A friend of a friend of a friend.” He leaned forward so his chin was resting atop my shoulder. “I know how much you love his music.”

  Love his music? Love didn’t even come close to what I felt for Damien Wright.

  It was more a cultish devotion. And it was not so much his music as it was the experience listening to him created.

  “Liam,” I said softly.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured. His breath fanned across my neck, and a hint of spearmint teased my senses.

  “I have a surprise for you, too,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  Before I could catch his reaction, candles illuminated the darkened stage. My heart quickened in excitement as Damian Wright began to sing. Without a single stage light, he sang his tribute to his late mother. Intense pain wrapped into hauntingly beautiful music, each song intoxicatingly intimate and unguarded, filled with so much heartache, grief and depression.

  As we clung to the shadows, Liam held me through it all, his hands slipping under my cotton shirt, caressing the soft underside of my breasts as we listened to lyrical chords filled with dark, yet mysteriously beautiful sadness.

  Utterly captivated, I closed my eyes, drinking in the shifting tonal shades of lyrical grays, letting my head fall back against Liam’s chest, savoring every intimate touch, every tender caress.

  Like the lyrics that floated between the dream and the reality of love, Liam’s fleeting touches, his gentle caresses were intoxicatingly intimate and compassionately sweet. I felt all the despair of my parents’ passing, my own feelings of loneliness and regret, and tinges of hope for the future.

  I felt all of this turbulence and at the same time, all of this peace.

  As the subtle melodies unfurled, so did Liam’s rousing touches.

  Under my cotton shirt, his hands slid unhurriedly over my breasts, molding them, cupping them, teasing them with his thrilling touches until my aching nipples strained against his palms, taut, eager, and desperate for more.

  It was sweet torture. A tremor started slow, working through my body, my arousal somehow more acute with the lack of underwear, along with the possibility of being caught making out like two horny teenagers.

  I let out a soft sigh and pressed myself to him, rubbing my lower back firmly against the building swell of his erection.

  Liam groaned in response and eased a finger under my chin, coaxing my head up so he could cover his lips over mine.

  He kissed me so fully, so lovingly, so achingly sweetly.

  I kissed him back, matching him move for move, laying my wounded soul bare for him to see, to taste, to touch.

  As our tongues did a leisurely dance, I felt his hand inching up my thighs and slipping under my short skirt.

  I deepened the kiss as his fingers brushed against my inner thighs, slowly inching upward.

  Warmth seeped through my limbs as his fingers found their way to the damp heat between my thighs. With his palm, he cupped my sex while his strong fingers rubbed the moisture across my clit in agonizingly slow strokes.

  His other hand, still buried under my cotton tank, continued caressing my breasts in hypnotizing circles, the pad of his fingers just lightly brushing over the tips of my hardened nipples, driving me mad with pleasure.

  Still, Liam wouldn’t break the kiss. Holding me captive, his mouth slid over mine, kissing me deeply, ruthlessly, thoroughly as his hands roamed freely under my cotton shirt, and under my chiffon skirt, his tantalizing touches meandering forever and ever as our bodies gently rocked to the down-tempo, awakening all my senses as the fluid music—romantic, tragic, tortured and lush—flooded my emotions, completely and utterly taking over me.

  Liam slipped his hand into mine, his fingers entwining with my own as we made our way out of the concert hall and down a set of concrete steps.

  “That was—” I exhaled, still overcome by the whole experience. “That was emotional catharsis through harmonic resolution.”

  Liam nodded slowly, a handsome grin forming on his face. “You are such a dork.” He drew me into his arms for a kiss that was equal parts passion and playfulness. “One incredibly hot and sexy dork.”

  “Mmmm,” I murmured against his lips. “You taste minty.”

  He fished out a packet of Cool Mint strips from his pocket. “Want one?” he offered.

  “Sure.” I popped the mint strip into my mouth and it dissolved on my tongue within a matter of seconds. “What would you like to do now?”

  “Anything you want.” He caught my hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m all yours for the next six days and you can do with me as you wish.”

  The hint of amusement in his voice made me blush.

  We started for the parking lot, walking like we did when we were just kids. Our linked hands swung between us as we made long, purposeful strides over tiny cracks in the sidewalk.

  My heart was dancing in my chest and it was all I could do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.

  This was surely one of the silliest things I’d ever done, but I did not care.

  With Liam, I could always act like a big kid and it was okay.

  If anything, he was a bigger kid.

  “Step on a crack,” I said, stepping over a crack, “you’ll break your mother’s back.”

  As we sidestepped another crack, Liam said, “Step on a line, break your mother’s spine.”

  “Step on a nail,” I rhymed, “you’ll put your dad in jail.”

  “Step on a stick,” Liam added, “you’re bound to get sick. Step on a stone, you’ll end up all alone.”

  “What?” I squawked. “I’ve never ever heard of that rhyme.”

  A smug smile crept across his face. “That’s because boys rhyme better than girls.”

  “Really?” My breath caught in a tiny gasp. I was mortally offended.

  “Damn straight.” He lifted his chin with pride. “That’s why we’re better rappers, too.” With no preliminaries, he started busting out some chops. “Now don’t be cryin’, I’m so dope I ain’t even tryin’. Coz I’m nitroglycerin, sizzlin’ and I be droppin’ more lines than a fly fisherman.” Then he jerked his chin at me, regarding me with a challenge in his eyes.

  “Humph.” I took a step back and folded my arms across my chest. “You think you can play me? Nah brotha’, I ain’t no PS3. You best think of that before you step in battle with me! ’Cause I will test you like the ACT!”

  He gave a slight nod like he was only vaguely impressed. “The ACT and SAT tests were a piece of cake.” Then he came back with: “I raid birthdays, weddings and bar mitzvahs ’coz my rap
takes the cake.”

  I burst into laughter. “That doesn’t even rhyme.”

  “So?” He received my dig with surprising ambivalence. “Why don’t you beat that?”

  “Yo, yo, yo.” I moved my hands to a steady beat. “I’m not a gangsta, you won’t see me popping glocks. But if you cross me, I’ll Cap’n Crunch yer bones up!”

  Liam stood gaping at me like a fish.

  What?” I asked, uneasy under the weight of his gaze. “What?”

  “Viv … so … so violent.” Even so it wasn’t long before he snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a warm embrace. “You do know don’t you, that you’re super cute when you try to act tough.”

  I attempted a murderous scowl. “I am tough.”

  “Now you just look cuter.” All teasing fled his voice. Unsmiling, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me lingeringly.

  A giddy flutter rose in my belly when he pulled away.

  He tucked my arm closer against his and we started again for the parking lot.

  No stepping over cracks, no rhymes, no raps, just warm, companionable silence.

  As we neared his Jeep, I realized I was reluctant for this evening to end just yet.

  Not when I was having this much fun.

  “How about we go to Ocean Beach?” I said on a whim, hoping to prolong the evening. “I love the vibe, I love the cliffs, I love the surf, I love the food, and well, you get the picture. I love OB.”

  Liam opened the door for me and I climbed into his red Jeep.

  “OB it is,” he said, shutting the door behind me.

  Ocean Beach, or OB as the San Diegans call it, is home to a sizable population of wild parrots and their offspring known locally as the OB Air Force.

  And it has that pitch perfect, throwback groovy vibe of vintage SoCal so unlike any other beach in San Diego.

  It’s a hot surf spot for locals without the Pacific Beach frat boys or the downtown pretense.

  Ultimately, the best part about OB is Sunset Cliffs.

  Hands, flippers and feathers down one of my favorite spots in the cosmic universe.

  It isn’t just a cliff. It is a state of mind somewhere at the edge of town.

  A place where the coastline has fallen into the sea, leaving behind a series of rugged cliffs.

  In my teens I’d often skip school and hop on a bus to OB. There, I’d hike up to Sunset Cliffs with a sack lunch and a book, and just while the day away reading and looking out at the never-ending horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of a surfing dolphin.

  When I’d lost my parents, I’d often come here by myself to simply forget where I was.

  It was easy to get lost in the beauty of the rough seas slamming into the cliffs only feet below me.

  Liam’s deep voice cut into my thoughts. “Now this is why I live here.”

  We stood right on the very edge, watching the waves pounding against the rocks, seawater spraying up every which way while the cliff shook beneath our feet. “This place makes me proud to be a San Diegan.”

  “This was my haven.” My heart settled in my throat as I gazed out at the silver ocean. “I used to come here a lot. To think. To clear my head.”

  “I know.” Liam stared straight ahead, addressing the ocean as he spoke. “I used to come here a lot to get my head on square. I brought all my stress and anger along with me and chucked them right over the cliff.”

  “Wait.” I cast him a sidelong glance. “You knew I came here? And you were here, too? How come I never saw you? And why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  His answer was slow in coming. “See that alcove way up there?” He gestured toward it and I nodded. “That was my spot.”

  Interesting. I noted that it was only a stone’s throw away from my spot.

  Liam was so close, and yet so very far.

  I studied him carefully. “How come you never even said hi?”

  When he finally turned to meet my gaze, understanding filled his eyes, and his tender expression almost stole the breath from my lungs. “I sensed you wanted to be by yourself. Isn’t that why we all come here? To be alone?” Then he looked away and when he spoke again, I heard a kind of torment in his voice. “To get away from it all?”

  I fell into ponderous silence. I must have been so absorbed with my own grief that I hadn’t even realized Liam was hurting, too.

  The moon was full and glowing, and the sea sparkled below. We sat with our shoulders touching, watching the rolling Pacific waves crashing against the jagged face of the cliff.

  It was so peaceful. No one else was around and we had the entire cliff all to ourselves.

  “During a full moon,” Liam began, “and when the tide is pulled out, you can actually see the ocean floor. Most people don’t know this but twice a year a low tide will come when it’s still light out and you can walk all the way out to the caves.”

  “Really?” I wrapped my arms around my knees. “I’ve never been to the caves. What are they like?”

  “I’ll take you there some day so you can see for yourself.” His voice was steady but his eyes looked sad. “I took my mom to the caves once and she really loved it …” he trailed off and seemed to lapse into his own thoughts.

  It was then that I realized how much Liam must miss his mom.

  My own thoughts went to my parents and my heart instantly cinched into a tight knot.

  I remembered how the bottom had dropped out of my world when the cops came to our house and informed me of the accident.

  It was four years ago when I’d lost them, but sometimes the pain was as fresh as if it were yesterday.

  I remembered so vividly Mom’s infectious laughter and Dad’s infinite patience with me.

  They taught me so much … to love until it hurts and to be true to myself.

  As I gazed up at the stars peppering the endless sky, I smiled to myself for Mom told me that while I should reach for the moon, I should also take joy in the stars I see.

  But Mom wasn’t at all like frosting … so sweet it made you sick. She was a regular mom and we were a regular family.

  Like most siblings, Julian and I got along swimmingly at one moment and were in each other’s hair the next. And whenever we got into scuffles, Mom would yell, “If you two are going to kill each other, please do it outside. I just finished cleaning the house.”

  Even today, the house is always spotless because Mom taught me the value of keeping a house in order.

  A house that was now empty except for me.

  Tears pricked my eyes and I inhaled the salty ocean breeze as the grief threatened to suffocate me.

  The hardest thing about losing them was the fact that the world still goes on without them. The waves keep pounding against these cliffs. The full moon keeps pulling the tide. The seasons keep changing. And I’m supposed to just keep on living life.

  I scooped a handful of sand, letting it trail through my fingers. As I sat there licking my wounds, I heard Dad’s voice in my head, reminding me that while I should always think for myself, I should also leave room for the thoughts of others.

  Scooping another handful of sand, I watched the tiny grains slipping through my fingers … watching my parents slipping away from me.

  And I had this strange sort of epiphany. Maybe my parents weren’t slipping away. I didn’t really lose them for I carried a part of Mom and Dad inside me … little sand castles of their souls. It was almost as if the personage of my parents did not die.

  Following the expanding momentum of the waves rippling across the ocean, Mom and Dad had been given a prolonged life beyond its origins through what they had taught me, and through the love and lessons they had shown me.

  “Liam?” I said suddenly.

  “Yeah?”

  Gathering myself, I met his patient gaze. “Do you talk to your mom?”

  “I do.” His eyes lit up and he smiled. “All the time.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Never.” His words came automatically and his
smile disappeared.

  The ocean breeze ruffled his hair and as I sat there gazing at him, I realized just how much I cared about him. How much I cared about his happiness. And because I understood how it felt to have the foundation you built your life on ripped away, I owed it to Liam to help him see past their differences. After all, they were father and son.

  A broken family, but still they were family.

  And now that I had my opening, I acted on it. “You need to see your dad, Liam. God forbid if something ever happened to you when you go back to Iraq, you don’t want to have any regrets. Do you know how many times I’ve wished there was a phone line to heaven just so I can talk to Mom and Dad for one last time. For just a few minutes to tell them how much they mean to me. How much I love them.”

  Liam’s face took on a depressingly shuttered look. Long seconds passed before he spoke. “I don’t love my dad, Viv. I don’t have the same relationship you had with your parents. I feel nothing for him.” He met my gaze, unblinking. “Nothing at all.”

  “But, Liam.” The hope in my voice slowly turned to pleading. “He’s your dad.”

  “Viv.” He exhaled a clipped sigh. “You’re a good person. A good, good person. So it’s only natural that you approach the world with your inborn optimism. You have an enormous heart, and when you love, you love purely, you love with everything in you, and you expect the same intrinsic love from others. But not everyone loves that way, Viv. Not everyone sees the world the same way you do.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Some people are just fucked.”

  “People make mistakes …” I spoke carefully, fully aware that I was dredging up painful memories, and treading very closely to an old wound. “But have you ever thought about forgiving him?”

  “No.” His voice was firm and a small muscle tightened in his jaw. “Look, I know it’s only human that people make mistakes. But to forgive over and over and over again goes against all that is human. It goes against all logic. It goes against everything that is rational.”

  “What about your grandmother?” I decided now would be a good time as any to bring her up. “She’s been calling the house every day. And she tells me you won’t answer your cell phone when she calls. Why won’t you speak to her?”