by Carnal, MJ
I wink at him. “Don’t I know it. Oh! Before I forget!” I open my purse and sort around in it.
“I don’t understand why women have such big purses. You can never find anything in them,” Hendrix mutters under his breath.
My eyes shoot up to him and I’m about to tell him to mind his own business when I see that he’s already on his phone. “Found it! Here!” I say excitedly, shoving a folded piece of paper in his face.
He pushes his head back and smacks my arm down, snatching the sheet of paper from my hand and opening it. The biggest smile takes over his face and I snap a picture. His daughter, Melody, sent him a paper that says, “I love you and miss you, Daddy.”
“She wrote it herself,” I explain.
“Thank you for bringing it,” he says, his voice low and quiet.
I know he misses her so much and I hate that he lives so far away from her. It’s not fair, but it’s his fault and I know I can’t push him on it. I’ve tried enough times to get him to try and fix things with his ex Sarah, but he just won’t budge.
“She misses you, you know,” I whisper.
He looks at me and blinks rapidly a couple of times before he clears his throat. “I miss her too.”
I wonder if we’re talking about the same person, but it doesn’t matter, there’s no need to specify. Both girls miss him and I know he misses them both terribly.
“Do you think love really conquers all things?” I ask him quietly, resting my head on his shoulder as we drive into a tunnel.
“I think it conquers most things,” he responds. “Why?”
I sit upright and look at him; the reflection of the tunnel’s orange lights making his eyes look like lava. “Do you think you’re in love with Sarah or do you just love her because she’s comfortable?”
I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down a couple of times. “I think you’ve asked me this before and I think the answer to such a question is: you can be in love with someone and comfortable with them and it won’t make a difference if life throws obstacles at you that you can’t push through together.”
I nod and rest my head back on his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? I don’t even know where I’m staying. I swear, Drix, this is the last thing I’m doing for them.”
He chuckles and ruffles my hair, which makes me scowl and sit upright again so that I can finger comb it. “You said that last time, Bee. And the time before that.” He leans in and ruffles the top of my hair again and I slap his hand away.
“Will you freaking stop that? Not everybody has naturally straight non-frizzy hair, you asshole.”
Hendrix laughs his obnoxious carefree laugh, which is only obnoxious when it’s at my expense. “You’re such a clown, Bee. And to answer your previous question, I figured you would wanna stay at my place. Unless you want me to take you to Mom and Dad’s, it’s not like they’ll be there … I just didn’t think you would want to be there.”
“Your place is perfect.”
I check my phone while Hendrix takes a call and see a couple of text messages. The first one is from my best friend Allie.
Al: Bee, let me know when you land! I hope you have a safe flight. I love you! xo
I respond back, letting her know that I made it and I’ll call her later. The second one is from my cousin Nina.
Nina: Hey, whorebag. Are you here yet? Drinks tonight? Shopping? Let me know, I’m free!
Me: In car w/Hen. Have to go buy underwear and clothes.
She replies immediately.
Underwear? WTF? How did you lose that? Didn’t you take a private flight? Tell Hen he’s an asshole for not going to my play last week.
I laugh loudly and Hendrix shoots me a look that tells me to shut the eff up, so I do as I type back a response.
Me: I didn’t bring clothes, only purses. He’s on phone so I can’t tell him.
Nina: Fk. He’ll probably cut my tits off if I call you then. No shoes either?
Me: Nope. Nothing. Only the clothes on my back.
Nina: Ballsy. I like it. U staying with the Hen?
I laugh again and cringe when Hendrix tells me to “shhh.” We call him “the Hen” when we want to piss him off.
Me: Yeah.
Nina: FML. He’s gonna try to control your every move. Forget about taking a guy home.
I shake my head because of course my cousin would be thinking about that.
Me: Not worried about that.
Nina: I forgot. You’re a fucking nun.
Me: Please.
Nina: I’ll pick you up in an hour. Shopping and dick hunting.
I’m not surprised that those are the two things on her mind.
Me: You’re insane.
Hendrix gets off the phone and looks at me expectantly. “Who the hell are you talking to?”
“Nina.” My smile is so bright not even his foul mood can damper it right now.
He rolls his eyes. “Shoulda figured. What did the little slut want?”
My mouth drops open. “Hendrix! She’s our cousin!”
“Yeah, and?” He blinks as if he’s missing the point.
“You can’t call her that.”
“Whatever. Did you know she invited me to watch her stupid play? I went and left two seconds into it, before the fucking curtains even went up because I read the bill, THANK GOD, and noticed it was a NUDE play?”
I cover my mouth to keep laughter from spilling out, but it’s no use. “No, it wasn’t.”
He gives me a don’t be stupid look.
“I can’t believe that,” I say, laughing.
“She’s a moron. Why the fuck would I want to see her naked?”
I shake my head and dry my tears, gasping for air as I picture my brother sitting in a tiny dark room waiting for my cousin’s show only to find out she would be naked.
“Who did you go with?”
“By myself, thank God. I would’ve freaking died of embarrassment if I had taken a date. Can you imagine? ‘Hey, let’s go watch my brilliant cousin act.’ ‘Oh, which one is she?’ ‘The naked one.’”
My laughter rises again and this time I double over in it, tears streaming down my face and he joins me.
“She’s such an idiot,” I say, laughing too hard for the words to be intelligible.
“She really is,” he says as his laughter dies down.
I text Nina back because I cannot wait until I see her.
You were in a nude play and you invite the Hen to watch!
Nina: OMG! I WAS NOT NUDE! HE’S SUCH A DICK! IS HE SICK? GOD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!
I laugh and show Hendrix the screen. He laughs and then glares at me. “The Hen? Are you fucking kidding me? You still call me that shit?”
“Only when you’re being an asshole about things.”
My reply earns me a pinch on the arm, which I yelp at. We make it into Manhattan at six o’clock and I’m starving. I look out the window as we drive around, watching all the suits and women in work attire shuffle through the streets, clearly dying to get home after a long day. I turn my head to look at my brother and smile, thankful that he took part of his workday to pick me up at the airport. He’s a workaholic just like my father, so I know how hard it is for him to be out of the office on a weekday. And a Tuesday at that, since it’s the day albums release. He’s been on his phone like a hawk the entire car ride, so I’m sure he’s either checking numbers or emailing people about staying on top of sales.
When I face the window again, a huge billboard of a half naked Shea startles me. His dark brown hair is ruffled, looking like he just got out of bed. His tattooed arms and torso are exposed, the lines on his tan stomach more visible than usual with the oil they put over him. His hands are tucked into his jeans and the band of the brand of underwear he’s modeling for is out. He’s looking at the camera with a smirk on his face, his muddy green eyes practically eating me as I stare back at the photo.
“Crazy, right?” Hendrix says beside me.
I nod slowly i
n response and clear my throat. “I saw him today. The Harmon jet flew from San Fran to LA and landed while I was waiting.”
I turn my head to face Hendrix when I hear him chuckle. “That must’ve been something. He was there with Gia, right?”
“Yeah.”
Hendrix’s lips twist and he sucks his teeth. “I don’t know what you saw in that guy.” He cuts me off before I get a chance to defend Shea. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a cool guy, he’s a great person … but he’s not someone I want my little sister going out with.”
“I agree, which is why I’m not going out with him. He would’ve never settled to be with me anyway,” I say. It’s the truth, but it sucks to speak the words aloud.
“He’s an idiot, Bee. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Funny thing about that is, when he is finally ready to settle down, he’ll come back and you’ll be gone.”
I stare at him for a long time, processing his words, knowing he’s completely right. What is it about no longer having somebody and seeing them happy without us that makes us want them more? It just shocks me to hear Hendrix say it because that’s pretty much where he’s headed. He’s completely pushing Sarah in that direction and he obviously knows it. Men can be such clueless assholes sometimes.
“You’re one to talk,” I mutter, turning my head away.
“Have you spoken to Mom lately?” he asks, jabbing me harder than I got him.
My teeth clench at the question. I’ve never been one of those people that can’t take what she dishes out, but that one little question is a hell of a sucker punch.
“Nope.”
Hendrix exhales loudly. “Bee, I know she’s a bitch sometimes, but she’s still your mom.”
I swallow, holding back the rude remarks that are dying to spill out of my mouth, and turn my face to look at him. “I know that, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m healthy. I’m not obsessing over my diet or what creams to use on my face or what shampoo makes my hair shinier. I’m not worried about not fitting into size two jeans. I’m finally coming around to accept that my ass is never going to be small enough to fit sample designer clothing, and I’m okay with that. I can’t talk to her because every time I do, she makes me feel like shit. She makes me feel worthless and fat and hideous, and I can’t go back to being the person that believed her.”
By the time I finish my rant, the tears that have been pricking my eyes are flowing freely. My brother is silent as he listens to me, but the sure look on his face has crumbled. He slides over and wraps his arms around me, pulling my face to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my hair.
“It’s fine,” I reply, blinking rapidly to get rid of my tears. I hate that I let myself cry. I hate that I let her affect me this way even when she’s merely mentioned. I used to look back on what my life has been, the choices I’ve made and the losses I’ve dealt with, and blame myself. Now I blame her. Now I hate her. I hate her for being so cruel to me, my father for letting her, my brother for being too busy, God for forsaking me when I felt I needed him most, and myself for being weak and giving into the bullshit I make myself believe about it all.
“We’re home,” Hendrix murmurs when the car pulls up to his luxurious building.
Is this home? I want to ask him. I’ve never had a concrete meaning for the word. I’ve never had a place that I truly considered home because I’ve always felt like a burden in all of my parents’ homes. When we get upstairs and I put my purse down, I take a moment to assess his place. I’ve been here countless times, but it’s never struck me as a homey place. Looking around I see everything a home should have: furniture, artwork, a kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, but there’s something missing, specifically in this one. He doesn’t have Melody or Sarah here to greet him when he gets in from a long day at work. He comes home to this humongous space, kicks off his shoes and hangs out by himself most nights. I just don’t understand it. I walk around, picking up the picture frames he has laid out on his side table and hold one with an outline of a heart. The picture is of Melody’s first birthday. Sarah’s carrying Melody on her hip, Sarah’s blonde hair was cut short then, her green eyes are smiling as bright as her lips as she looks at Hendrix with the most adoring expression on her face. Hendrix is looking back at her with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and Melody is holding her hands out to touch her Minnie Mouse cake. I can’t help but wonder: if your heart is in LA, how could your home be in Manhattan? And where is mine? I seem to have misplaced my heart so long ago and I don’t know where to even begin looking for it.
***
The loud buzzing sound of my alarm clock stirs me out of the amazing dream I’m having. I groan loudly as I tap my hand on the nightstand in an effort to make it stop.
“For the love of god, shut that thing up!” Nina mumbles beside me. She ended up staying over after our shopping trip turned into us going to a restaurant and her downing a bottle of wine by herself.
I sit up and throw the covers off of me, pressing the off button as I make my way to the bathroom.
“Gotta get ready for work,” I say over my shoulder as I shut the door behind me and begin to strip off my Snoopy pajamas.
Hendrix told me that the dress code they go by is business casual, which can mean a lot of things. I didn’t want to risk it and look like the only idiot wearing flats, so I ended up buying a lot of skirts, matching frilly blouses and dress pumps. After dressing in a blue knee length skirt that hugs my hips and a white blouse with a navy blue collar, I step into a pair of navy patented pumps, finish my makeup and fluff up the ends of my wavy hair. I take a look in the mirror and nod, happy with what I did in thirty-five minutes. Nina is simultaneously pulling on the jeans she wore last night and checking her phone when I step out of the bathroom. She’s muttering something as she scrolls down her screen but stops when she looks up and sees me.
“I told you those skirts would look good on you!” she says with a victorious smile.
I smile back. “I like them.”
“You look like sex, you know that, right?” she says.
I laugh, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “I didn’t realize sex had a look.”
She nods, pursing her lips. “It does. You see something and you think: sex. That’s the look you got going with the way that skirt hugs your hips. Turn around, your ass probably looks amazing too.”
I turn around exaggeratedly and shake my butt for her, which earns me a short laugh.
She groans. “I hate you. I wish I had an ass like that.”
“Like what? Full of cellulite?” I ask with a laugh.
“Shut up. You don’t have cellulite. You make it sound like you have a cheese ass or something. It looks good as hell, Bee,” she says when I make a face.
“Whatever. The grass is always greener on the other side and all that jazz. I would kill to look like you,” I respond.
Nina has the perfect body, in my eyes. She’s thin with slight curves, she doesn’t have much of a butt, but it’s shapely, and her boobs are a perfect C cup. Basically, she looks good in everything. My mother always said I should work out harder so that I could have a body like Nina’s. I tried hard to do that for a while, until it took a toll on me. It’s exhausting to watch what you eat and throw up what you know you shouldn’t but couldn’t help eating anyway.
“You’re so blind, Bee. I love you, but you can’t possibly look in the mirror and not be happy with what you see. You have beautiful curves, and you need to embrace that shit and own it. Our bodies aren’t all that different. I just have the boobs and you have the butt. We’re backwards.” She walks to the bathroom and turns around when she’s standing in the threshold. “You should see the way people look at you when you walk by them. Pay attention. And consider yourself lucky. At least you can get a boob job. Do you know you can’t sit down for weeks if you get ass implants? Trust me, I Googled that shit.”
I laugh and grab my purse on my way out of my room. I walk down the stairs
and round the corner to the kitchen, pausing right before I get there when I hear my brother talking on the phone. His back is facing me, but I know he heard my loud heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I don’t want to purposely eavesdrop, but from the tone of his voice I know he’s speaking to my mother, and I’m curious about their conversation.
“Yep. She’ll do great. I know. All right, Mom, I’ll talk to you later. Sure, I’ll tell her,” Hendrix says, turning around to face me as he hangs up. “Morning. Mom said to wish you good luck at work.”
“Awesome,” I reply shortly.
He exhales and runs his fingers through his wavy hair but doesn’t make any further comments on the topic as he hands me a coffee mug. “Did Nina sleep here? I heard you guys get in pretty late,” he says after a while.
“Yeah, she decided she wanted to close down the little bar we went to in The Village,” I murmur distractedly as I sort through the cereal boxes in his pantry.
“Hmm. Were you drinking?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, but the edge in his voice makes me pause on the box of Fruit Loops and turn to face him. His caramel eyes are looking at me with both questions and concern and I wish he had no reason to do either.
“No, Hen,” I respond, turning around to pull out the box of Frosted Flakes. “I don’t usually drink. But I can, you know? Drinking has never really been an issue for me.” It’s what I do after I’ve had the countless amount of drinks.
“Yeah, but still. I’ve heard that any kind of addict is an addict,” he says, cringing as soon as the last word leaves his mouth.
“It’s okay. We can talk about it,” I assure him. “And I’m not really an addict, Hen. I was going through a lot of shit.”
“Still, Brooklyn …”
“Hendrix. I’m not an addict.”
“You went to rehab. You go to meetings a couple of times a year. You had a sponsor,” he says quickly, before I can cut him off.
“I went to rehab because I was scared shitless. I go to meetings because I want to help others that may be in the same shoes I was in, and they’re not all meetings for addicts, you know that. And I had a sponsor because she and I understood each other and she helped me deal with a lot of my emotions,” I say calmly, getting the milk out of the fridge and sitting down to eat my breakfast as I explain myself.
