by Portia Moore
Me.
My aunt has been trying to have a child since before I was born, and she’s never had any luck. I don’t know the medical terms, but in Evie’s language, “her well’s dried up.” I can’t imagine how my aunt would feel if she ever heard my mother say that. I wonder what my mom would think if she knew how many times I’d wished Aunt Dani was my mom.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” I say, sitting beside Aunt Dani and stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Evie says, setting a plate of eggs on the table. It’s my favorite—scrambled hard with cheese.
“So tell me, how is everything? Do you have your eye on any schools, any special boys? I want to hear all about it,” Aunt Dani says.
I tell her about Brett—not the man who gives me butterflies—then I tell her how I’m pretty much getting As in everything except math, that I’m working on bringing up that grade. I don’t tell her that the man who gives me butterflies is the one helping me do that, and I definitely don’t tell her that I’m trying to figure out how to keep a handle on my grade without ever seeing him again. That’ll be hard since he’s my best friend’s dad, but it’ll be better for everyone.
“This Brett sounds like a keeper,” my aunt says enthusiastically.
“No college boy is a keeper for a high school girl. You know they only want one thing, and I told Lisa if she gives that up, she better be using protection,” Evie says, leaning on the counter and eating from her plate.
Aunt Dani rolls her eyes at my mother. “You’re so crass sometimes, Evie.”
“Brett and I are going to a poetry reading tonight. I wish you would have said something, Mom.” I’m disappointed. Aunt Dani and Mom can’t stand being around each other for longer than two days max, so I try to soak up as much time with her as I can.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll go downtown and pick you out something really cute to wear tonight and just have a regular girls’ day this afternoon,” Dani says excitedly.
I feel like a kid again.
“So go ahead and get showered. We’re going to leave around ten,” she says.
“You spoil her, Dani,” my mom mutters as I head to the bathroom.
“Someone should. I can’t believe you haven’t done more to this place since the last time I was here,” Aunt Dani replies.
A part of me feels sorry for my mom. She definitely makes mistakes, but if it weren’t for that, I probably wouldn’t be here.
IT’S COOL OUT today. The sun is bright though, tricking you into thinking it’ll provide some warmth against the chill. I don’t mind cold days. Something about them makes me feel grateful about life, more so than when it’s hot. My aunt Dani and I are walking though Madison’s quaint little downtown. It’s nothing like where Dani lives in Chicago, with thousands of stores and people bustling. When she took me there, it was like being on another planet. Even now, at the prime time for shopping, the amount of people isn’t anywhere near what I saw there.
“So tell me all of the things that are on your mind that you haven’t said,” she says as we sit on a park bench and sip the caramel lattes she bought us. Working at a coffee shop hasn’t stopped me from loving them.
“Nothing, things are great here.” I swallow the hot liquid.
She eyes me knowingly. “Your mom told me she think she’s in love again.” Her tone’s a mix of amusement and contempt.
I laugh. “With who, that Jack guy?”
She nods and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t say anything because I wanted to come and see you guys, but I wanted to tell her that he sounds just as worthless as every other man she’s let pass through. She says he owns his own truck company.”
That’s a complete stretch. I think he just started driving a truck last week. I doubt he owns anything, but maybe he does since he skims off our food, electricity, and everything else when he’s around. If you never have to spend your own money, you’d have enough to own a lot of things.
“I wish she’d just wake up, realize that it’s not too late for her. She’s still beautiful. She was smart at one time. You’ll be going away to school soon, and she can start living a real life again, not this trailer park fantasy she has going on,” she says.
I fiddle with my cup. Evie isn’t one of my favorite people, but she’s still my mom, and listening to the only woman I love as much as her badmouth her is uncomfortable. I know Dani means well, and I feel the same way, but listening to her and not saying a single thing in Evie’s defense feels like a betrayal. I wish I had something to say.
“Enough about your mother. So Brett. I get to meet him tonight?” she asks.
I nod with a smirk. “Yeah. I think you’ll like him.” Why wouldn’t she like him? He’s handsome, smart, polite, and charming. Of course, only I wouldn’t be attracted to a guy who has it all going for him and is available. That would be too easy.
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Dani asks.
“Nothing,” I say quietly.
She turns me to face her. “Something’s wrong.” Her eyes meet mine like she’s trying to read them.
I let out a sigh. “When you met Uncle Ryan, when you first met him, did you know right then that you liked him?”
Her face softens, and I can tell she’s reminiscing, a memory wrapping around her. “Your uncle was very handsome but a little bit of a jerk. At work, that is. I guess as a new doctor, he had to be tough, curt. Most of the nurses hated working with him. He demanded perfection, zero mistakes. He never laughed or joked around like most of the doctors did with the staff. He was oh so serious all the time. He never let anything get to him.” Then she sighs.
“Then one day, he had a patient in the ER, a young woman. She was beat up so badly the pale thing was black and blue. Her face was . . . I walked into the supply room, and he was sitting on the floor, his head between his legs, silently weeping. I knew then he wasn’t made of stone. He wasn’t just a heartless prick. He was more human than most people in that entire hospital.
“When he looked up at me, his big brown eyes wet with tears, my heart stopped and melted at the same time. I sat next to him and laid my head on his shoulder. I knew I wanted a man with a heart like his.”
I smile.
“Why’d you ask?” she says. “Do you think you’re in love with Brett?”
I laugh. “No. He’s really nice and sweet. I just . . . I don’t feel how I think I should feel with him.” I feel as if I sound ridiculous.
“And how do you think you should feel?”
I shrug, almost embarrassed by what I’m about to say. “Butterflies.” I laugh.
She cracks a smile and shakes her head. “You are Evie’s daughter.” She chuckles and sighs. “When your mom met your dad, she was so excited after their first date. She ran into my room and said, ‘Dani, I’ve found the one, the man I’m going to marry.’” She mimics my mom’s voice. “She said, ‘He makes my knees weak. When we kissed, it was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. He set my body on fire.’”
I hang onto her every word. My mom doesn’t say much about my dad. She certainly would never tell me about how they met.
My aunt shakes her head. “Your parents had heat. They had chemistry and, according to your mother, mind-blowing sex. But that was all that they had. They didn’t share common interests. They didn’t have a friendship. I doubt your dad even knew your mother’s middle name. I’m not saying that chemistry isn’t important, it is, but I think so many people get lust confused with love. It’s hard enough to build a relationship with love. You’re fighting a losing battle if you only have lust. Lust is spread around easily and indiscriminately.”
I bite my lip. “What if it’s not lust though? Don’t you believe in a connection, like mentally, that transcends everything else? Race, gender, age . . .” I feel as though I may have given away too much.
She eyes me and laughs. “You’re young, Lisa. If you want to experiment, that’s fine, act on your ph
ysical urges—with protection of course. I don’t need to show you the video on STDs, do I?”
I shake my head.
“But when it’s time, you don’t act off just this,” she says, gesturing to my body. “You use this to guide you.” She touches my head.
I give her a smirk.
“Come on, let’s go find you something pretty to wear,” she says, pulling me out of my seat.
We stop in several shops, browsing and trying on a few things. She ends up with a couple of blouses, and she picks me out a cute navy bandage dress and a white blouse to go over it. Wearing it without the blouse would be more my style, but I don’t tell her that.
As we leave the store, she’s showing me the cell phone she just bought. It nearly drops out of my hand when she yells, “Will Scott!”
“Danielle, is that you?”
“Yeah, it is.”
She walks, I assume, to meet him, but my legs are frozen in place. I command myself to follow her and do my best not to look at him.
“How long has it been?” she says.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see them hug. I hate that I wish I could hug him like that.
“At least six years,” he answers.
“You know my niece, Lisa?” she says, gesturing to me.
“Yeah, she and Chris are best friends. I’m actually tutoring her now. How are you feeling?” he says.
I swallow hard, my eyes still on the ground. “Good.”
“What are you staring at your feet for?” My aunt nudges me.
I look up at him. He’s even more beautiful in the daytime, the sun highlighting his every perfect feature, especially his eyes.
“It’s funny how time passes, isn’t it? You have a practically grown son, and my little niece is about to go to college. Lisa didn’t mention you were tutoring her.”
“I didn’t think you knew him,” I say. It’s partially true. I know they all went to school together, but if I mentioned him, I thought she’d see all my illicit thoughts in my face.
“We go waaay back.” She giggles, and I can’t help but look at her strangely. She’s twirling her hair and smiling way too wide. Is she flirting with him? “Lisa and I were about to have lunch. Why don’t you join us?”
My heart is about to beat out of my chest. I don’t know what I want. My brain wants him to say no, but every other part of me wants him to say yes. I want to see what he’s like outside of our little bubble. Is his laugh just for me, or does he share it with everyone?
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on you ladies,” he asks, giving a lazy sexy grin.
“Don’t be silly. We’d love to have you. Wouldn’t we, Lisa?” she asks.
My eyes meet his, and I feel my heart clench. If only he knew the effect those small glances have on me. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
We sit down at a little pizza parlor I used to hang out at with Chris and Aidan when we were freshman. We order a large pizza with sausage, peperoni, and cheese.
“So how’s the big city treating you?” he asks.
Aunt Dani beams. “Like it’s treating everyone. Ryan’s practice is doing well.”
“Is that your husband?”
“Yeah, five years now,” she says proudly. “What about you and Gwen? We’re amateurs compared to you guys.”
He laughs and lets out a little sigh. “Yeah. We’re great.”
But I notice something else behind his words, a second where he stopped to think about what his answer should be.
“How many years has it been?” she asks, not knowing each question she asks reminds me of how terrible I am for feeling this way about a married man.
“Twenty-two.” He runs his hand through his hair, as if for the first time realizing how long it’s been.
“That’s so great. You don’t hear about marriages lasting that long anymore,” she says.
I take a big sip of my Sprite.
“When William and I were in high school, well, before he upgraded and started going to that ritzy prep school his dad put him in,” my aunt says, and Will playfully rolls his eyes. “He was the catch of the high school. Quarterback, homecoming king. I think your mom even had a crush on him.” She nudges me, and I feel my stomach flip.
“She did not,” he says, his eyes falling on me, and I let out a small breath.
“Okay, maybe that was me,” she says, and I glare at her. She is flirting! “Oh come on, Lisa, I’m not embarrassing you in front of your tutor, am I?”
My face turns red. I hate that she referred to him as just my tutor, but what else could he be?
“Lisa’s been great to work with. She’s really intelligent and a quick learner,” he says.
I should feel good about his compliment, but I’d rather him say I’m beautiful and mature for my age and he loves spending time with me, but I realize how inappropriate that’d sound. We would always be inappropriate.
“She is. I’m so proud of her,” Dani says, pinching my cheek as if I’m five years old.
I’m about to die of mortification when her phone rings.
“Would you guys excuse me? It’s your uncle,” she says, glancing at me before walking away from the table.
Now it’s just Mr. Scott and me. I play with the straw in my drink to distract myself from all the energy buzzing through me.
“How are you doing?” he says.
I look at him and only stare for a second. Why him out of all the people? He’s trimmed his beard much lower than usual, but his hair is still long, reaching past his chin. It’s thick and full, and I think of all the times I’ve wanted to run my hands through it. “I’m good.”
He looks perplexed. “Are you sure?” He leans in on the table. He does that a lot when we’re studying.
I think it’s a habit, but I wish he wouldn’t. It makes me want to lean forward too, and his lips being the magnets they are, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.
“Yeah,” I say nonchalantly.
His eyes peer into mine. “I was worried about you.”
He’s never used that tone before, one that soothes my nerves, one I wish was only for me. Can he see what no one else does? The conflict, the turmoil boiling within me when he’s around. There’s no way out.
“Why would you be worried about me?” I ask, making my eyes meet his.
He actually leans back as if my look pushed him away. “You seemed upset the last time we were together.” He seems genuinely concerned, and I feel bad for making him feel that way.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” I say quietly.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks hesitantly.
I feel my eyebrows rise.
“How could you do something wrong? You’re perfect.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
He looks bewildered. He adjusts his position in his chair, and the flush of his face tells me the words actually came out of my mouth.
I try to think of how to recover. “I-I mean . . . what I meant . . .”
But the waitress appears with a steaming pizza and sets it in front of us. “Large pizza with sausage, cheese, and extra pepperoni.”
“Thank you,” he says to her with an uncomfortable smile.
I can’t believe I just said that!
“Anything else?” she asks, and I glance from her to him.
“No, that’s all, thank you,” he says, and she smiles before leaving.
I can’t sit here with him, especially not with him and my aunt after I’ve completely embarrassed myself. I shoot up from my seat. “I’ve got to go.”
“Lisa, wait!” he calls.
I keep walking and barge out of the restaurant, letting out a deep breath.
“Lisa, what’s wrong?”
I forgot Aunt Dani was out here. I try to think of a reasonable excuse as quickly as I can. “Nothing. I started my period, and I don’t have any tampons. I’ve gotta go.” I give her a tight smile and quickly walk away from her.
“Hey, wait, I can go grab y
ou something,” she says, looking confused.
“No, I’m fine. Have fun. I’ll see you back at home.” I walk frantically away.
“HEY, BABE, YOU there?”
Brett’s voice wakes me from my daydream of the nightmare of events that happened earlier. I can’t believe I said that to Mr. Scott, and not just what I said. My voice sounded like a nymph’s in heat. I cringe just thinking about it.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say, giving him an artificial smile.
He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me. “It’s like you’re somewhere else.”
The crowd applauds as the performer finishes his piece. He was good. I would have enjoyed it more if I didn’t have so much on my mind.
“I’m fine.” I kiss his cheek and take his hand and squeeze it.
His smile is bright and real, unlike the ones I’ve been wearing all night. He lets go of my hand and put his arm around me. I close my eyes and try to feel something. I pray to feel anything but I don’t. Still, I rest in his arms. I zone in on his touch, how his fingers are caressing my arm. I should feel something! Brett is handsome and available. Our waitress comes over way too frequently, throwing him cutesy glances and carefully refilling his cup. He’s desired. He’s desirable, just not to me.
The next performer on stage is a redheaded girl. She’s really pretty with long hair that’s so red it has to be a dye job—a really good one, but no one’s hair can be that color without some type of aid.
“I think you’re going to like her. She’s really good,” Brett whispers in my ear.
She grabs the mic and clears her throat. “My name is Shelly, and I’ll be reading a poem I wrote titled ‘The Recipe of She.’”
The petite redhead takes a deep breath, and the small room of about thirty is quiet. I hope she does well. Most of the people who’ve performed here tonight have been singers and comedians. She’s the first one to read poetry, and I immediately connect to her. Poetry is different. It’s like baring a little part of your soul. I wish I could get up there and do what she’s doing. I can tell she’s changing, becoming what she’s about to speak.
