by Brown, Tara
He smiles, "I have just the thing."
Back at his apartment I discover, 'just the thing' is actually a movie I've seen and love. I don’t tell him. I let him turn it on and pretend to be surprised. I've literally seen like twenty movies in my life and he picks the one I love. It warms my heart, as does his reasoning for picking it. It's his little sister's favorite movie.
The movie is called Amelie. It's French and I adore it. It's romantic and fun and I wish I were her. She reminds me of Michelle in a lot of ways.
"Audrey Tautou is probably one of the most beautiful women in the world." I whisper as the movie starts. He pulls me in close to him. The hardness of his body is somehow comfortable. I love the feel of where our bodies meet. The heat that lies in the crease between us could light up the world.
"She's not as beautiful as you are." He whispers. I smile, "Liar." He laughs.
He tilts my face up and kisses me. In the flickering lights of the movie I forget who I am. I let his arms encompass me. I let his body wrap around mine. He pulls me in, kissing desperately. His hands move in a way that’s new. They're driven and hungry. Like mine. We match for a change. His hand slowly drags my shirt up my back. I moan into his mouth. He slides himself against me. The hardness of him is everywhere. It's heady and rich. My hands are in his hair, pulling at him, dragging him onto me. It hits before I realize. I've pulled off my shirt. My bra and naked skin are rubbing against his sweater. He pulls it off and that’s when I notice it. The sickening feeling filling up my stomach.
The weight of him against me is too much.
I shove hard.
I roll off the bed, grabbing for the waist bin. I lose the small amount of ice cream and the pizza we had earlier. I gag, trying to be quiet. I leave my shoes and my shirt. I hug the bin and run for the bathroom. I close the door and sink against it. The weight of him and the feel of his skin, it was magical but it came with a flash of something else.
A dark figure.
There was someone else in our embrace. They were there. I was watching him through a tiny crack in the floor. He was holding someone, kissing them. The crack in the floor is big enough I can see the bad things in the dirty house. I can't close my eyes.
My mind closes off before anything else comes up. I get sick again, mostly in my mind. There is nothing left inside of me.
"What else happened to you Emalyn?" He is beside the door. His voice is soft.
I shake my head, "I don’t know."
"You do."
"I swear I don’t. My mind won't let me remember." With the door between us I feel the best I ever have about our relationship. I love having him there but not able to touch me. All of the things I'm thinking come to a conclusion. "I can't see you anymore."
"Em. Don't."
I swallow and wipe my face, gripping the small garbage can. "I can't. I'm never going to grow past here. This is it. I'm always going to want to be where we are. Never moving beyond this."
"I can wait. We've only been at this a short amount of time." His voice is desperate.
"It's cruel to ask you to hold out." Tears fill my eyes, they try to make the kaleidoscopes but I blink them back. I don’t deserve a different view of things. "I'm never going to change." I stand and dump the pail in the toilet. I rinse it out with hand soap and dry it with a towel.
"Em, don’t do this. You're doing so well."
The sentence stings coming from him. It shows me the truth.
"You like that I'm broken. You want to be my hero and my knight. You want me to need you to keep me safe." I mutter. I pray he didn’t hear it.
I look at myself in the mirror. I see her still. The dead girl who never made it out of the scary house alive. I see her. I'll always see her. She is me. I am not the girl who lived and found food on the streets. I'll never be that girl. I'm the dead girl who didn’t make it out. I've been living for us both, but I need to start seeing things for what they are. She is one of the only memories I have of the dirty house. She is the only one I need.
My dead fish eyes stare back at me. I splash water on my face and let it come in and take over. I'm not afraid when I open the door. The look of terror and fear that was on my face, has traumatized him. I know he won't touch me again. Even if I beg him to.
He looks hurt and beaten down. I walk past him. I feel for my cell in my pocket and pick up my runners. I don’t hunt down my shirt. I would rather be nearly naked, and just in my bra, than collect my things and see him.
I leave.
I don’t say anything.
There are no words.
Chapter Seven
"He just wants to see you. Just once." Her eyes are shiny and desperate.
I shake my head, "Why? So I can look at him like he's a rapist again? So I can throw up when he touches me?"
She slumps on the bed, "Can't you just be his friend?"
I swallow down my bile, "No. I can't. He makes me think things. He makes me want things. But I'm not strong enough to have them."
She squeezes my hand, "Em, you are. We made it this far."
I smile, "I know. I'm happy about this far Shell. I like it here. I want to finish school and have a normal life. I'm cool with my normal being what it is."
She shakes her head, "No. I don’t believe it." She gets up and leaves the room.
There is a knock on the door after she is gone for a minute. I see her keys on the bedside table and moan. I climb off the bed and open the door. I can't breathe when I see him. He steps in and closes the door. His hands reach for mine. His skin burns me. His eyes are desperate and wild.
"W-what are y-you d-doing here?" I am almost frozen in fear.
He steps back and presses his back against the door, letting go of me. I step back, making a large gap between us.
"I needed to see you."
I like that word need. I like that he needs me. I'm a selfish bitch.
"I needed to say goodbye in person. I never got to say the things I wanted to."
My heart aches instantly.
"I love you, Em. It's silly and fast and too much for what I get in return. But I do. You've got me on the run, chasing you all the time. You have all the cards and I don’t even care. I'd chase you around the world." His voice drops off at the end and becomes a forced whisper.
His hazel eyes are shiny and complicated. "I've thought about nothing but you for the last couple months. And even if I see that you're right, I can't seem to make myself let go of you. Even though I refuse to see it all, the look in your eyes says all the things you won't. I know, in my heart, you won't ever heal. You won't ever get past this. I can’t force myself to give up on you. So I am leaving. It's about the only thing I can do. I need to sleep and not see your face every time I close my eyes. I hate that you think I want you broken and injured so you need me."
I sigh, he heard me say it. I wanted so many things from him and the acceptance that I'm a hopeless freak was never one of them.
"I can't force this between us and I can't live with the look you give me, that makes me feel like some kind of monster. I'm leaving the school. You don’t have to worry about the gym or anything. It's all yours again."
I don’t feel better.
He steps forward and kisses my forehead. His breath is soft devastating warmth on my face. He turns and leaves. He chooses survival over me. It's no different than what I have done. We are both just trying so hard to survive me.
I turn and collapse on the bed. I have schoolwork to do, but I curl in a ball and turn on the TV. I turn on Amelie and wish I were Audrey Tautou.
My phone vibrates.
'Hi.'
I drag my fingers over the top of it, 'He left me. He left me broken. More broken than I already was.'
'Do you need the doc?'
I sniffle and heave, 'Not yet.'
'What do you need?'
'To be normal. I would die to be normal.'
'Don't die. Give Dr. Bradley a chance.'
'Next week.'
I leave
it at that and curl into the bed.
Weeks pass.
I don’t run anymore. I don’t need to. The running was for self-preservation. There is nothing left inside of me to save. I study like mad and watch Netflix. I increase the number of movies I've seen by hundreds.
It's just before Christmas break when Stuart is driving me to the Doctor's office. I had avoided Dr. Bradley when I was seeing Sebastian. I didn’t want her telling me how poor of a decision it was to bring another victim into my mess. I didn’t want to see the truth of it all in her eyes. The truth that no matter how hard he tried, I would screw it all up.
I catch Stuart's eyes in the rearview, they aren’t watching Shell, they're watching me. Shell nudges me, "We'll be right outside, okay?"
I nod, "K."
My phone vibrates. I answer, "Hi." I always sound impatient with him now. He annoys me by existing.
"You need to remind her that you're still not sleeping okay."
I shake my head and shoot Shell a look, "How do you know that? Maybe I am?"
He laughs bitterly, "I know you're not."
"How?" I ask softly.
"Do as you're told." He isn’t laughing anymore. He's annoyed.
I wince, "K."
He sighs, "That is a letter. It’s not a word. Can't you just speak like you have something of an education?"
"I'm doing fine in school."
"I know that. Nice work on the grades by the way. I have to admit the straight A's surprised me. Between the whatever's and the k's, I figured you were doomed." His voice lightens. I don’t know what the game is we're playing.
"Thanks." I say sarcastically. I don’t even know how he knows I got all A's. I was so relieved to get good grades, with all the drama and heartbreak. It's one good thing about OCD, good grades.
He sighs again, "Call me when she's done. I want to talk to you about something important."
I hang up the phone and glare at Shell, "you told him I wasn’t sleeping?"
She shakes her head, "I've still never spoken to Uncle Daddy Weirdo. Not even kidding. I don’t know him."
My eyes find Stuart's in the mirror. He makes a face, "I don’t know about your sleeping patterns. Jeeze. I don’t even talk to him. You're the only one who has ever heard his voice."
I tilt my head in disbelief, "You've never met him or talked to him? Ever?"
He shakes his head, "Never. Not even kidding. Dude found me at my boxing ring. My trainer came up after a fight and asked if I was interested in a job. Said that the guy watched the fight and needed someone to drive for him."
I frown, "You took a job based on that little information?"
He snorts, "I get paid a hundred grand a year to drive your ass around. Hell yes, I took the job."
My stomach drops, "Who would pay that kind of money?" My brain whispers, 'not good people.'
Shell giggles, "And my ass."
His stare leaves me and becomes deadly sexy.
Shell raises her eyebrows, "That’s not all you're doing to my ass though."
I grimace, "Gross. Focus people. Jesus. So he hired you from a boxing ring? He clearly wanted someone who can handle them self. When did he hire you? I thought you were a ninja?"
He shrugs, "UFC. It's kickboxing. Same thing as being a ninja. He hired me the beginning of the summer. He told me you would pick the city and that I would live there. I was pumped when you chose Boston."
"Where are you from?" I ask, curious suddenly.
"Kansas."
I roll my eyes, "Well duh. I know Kansas. I mean where were you fighting when he found you?"
"Wichita."
"He's from Kansas too?" I'm confused? "What was he doing at a boxing match in Wichita?"
He frowns and pulls the car into the parking lot of the doctor, "Not a clue." He hops out and gets the door. I look up into his beautiful eyes, "A hundred thousand a year and you never questioned it?"
He shakes his head, "I was making thirty fighting and fifteen at the gym as a trainer."
I walk away from them and pull my sweater tighter around me. None of this makes sense.
The door to the office feels like the door to Sebastian's building. I miss him in sick and twisted ways. Selfish ways.
I open the door with the gloved hand. The only thing I love about winter, wearing gloves. Gloves in the summer make my hands sweaty, which freaks me out more. But gloves in the winter are my new saving grace. Gloves and Michelle.
I push the button on the elevator in a series of taps and take a deep breath. When the elevator dings and the door opens, her smiling face is there for me. She never makes me ride it alone. It's his orders. I like it though. I don’t like elevators alone.
"How are you this week?" She asks, as I step inside.
"I'm okay. How are you?"
She presses the button and nods, "Excellent, thank you." When the door closes she turns, "He's phoned only a few moments ago. He's terribly worried. Is there some stuff you don’t want to talk about, that maybe you should?"
The elevator stops at her apartment. We walk out into the huge open space. I hate it. It's too open and too white and too bright. I feel like I am under a microscope here and she can see all the fine details I try to hide.
I walk to the chair, where I always sit. It's the one with the back to the wall. I don’t like chairs with their backs near windows or doors and god forbid it, open space. I shake my head and fidget with my fingers, "I'm doing good. I don’t know what he's talking about."
She sits and sips from the glass of water she has. She always sets me out one as well. It always has a cucumber slice in it and looks refreshing, as always, I've yet to drink it.
"He is under the impression you've had a bad break up. You're depressed a bit from it." Her dark-blue eyes and dark shiny hair shimmer in the extreme light. The light that makes me feel exposed.
In it I can see her better though. She is mid forties and pretty, but like a mom. She reminds me of Michelle's mom. Pretty and clean. Only Michelle's mom always smells like food. I can remember the millions of hugs that smelled like spaghetti.
"He seems to think you are upset about the young man. Sebastian."
I continue to ignore her. I refuse for her to see that side of my soul. The dirty side. "There is something I want to talk about. My benefactor, I think he's a bad man. He's paying a hundred grand to Stuart to be my driver. Who does that? He hired him from a gym. He could be a serial killer."
She crosses her arms, "So you wish to discuss the possible previous career choices Stuart has made? Or that the man paying for you to get better, could be a bad man?"
I nod, "I'm going to bet mafia of some sort."
She doesn’t grin.
I fidget my fingers, "Can we do the grateful thing again?"
She sighs, "Avoiding the conversation isn’t going to make it go away. You know you’re safe in here. Let's talk about the relationship. Do you feel like it was a wise choice, considering your feelings about people and proximity? Did you tell him everything?"
I snap, "What everything? My holey memory about a creepy house, blue eyes in a dirty hole and a dead girl on a bed? What am I supposed to do with that? Oh right there was also a gunshot. Useful stuff."
Her lip plays with a grin, "Nice. I like that question. What do you think the answer is?"
I want to toss something. I might snap her head off if she asks me one more thing. I squeeze my hands in a ball. My nails are short, always. They don’t leave indents but my fingertips start to get numb.
"He said you have been to the bar a few times. How was that? Seems like a big step."
I press my lips together and take in big breaths.
"Are you self calming?" She asks and sips from the water again. I watch my glass. I'm so thirsty.
I decide I can play along with her. I shrug, "It was fun. The dancing was fun. I didn’t like being around so many people, but they never really noticed me. So I felt invisible."
She nods and watches me. "Did you drink?"
"A sip of beer a few times. Nothing crazy."
"Did you buy the beer?" Her tone puzzles me.
"No. Shell did. She bought the beer and gave it to me."
Her eyes narrow. She sips the water again. I think she's doing it loudly to make me want some. "Was the lid off the beer when you got it?"
I frown and nod, "It was." How did I not notice that?
"Did you dance?" She changes the subject quickly.
"Yup."
"That’s some progress I think." Her voice lifts. I grin, I love her approval. Like the nuns.
"Now the guy you met, was he there?"
I nod. My smile fades.
"Why did you break up?"
The words pop out, "I can't be that girl."
"Can't or won't?" She doesn’t miss a beat.
I shrug, "Does it matter?"
She nods. Her eyes sparkle. "If you want to change and one day be free of it all, it matters. If you want to have a real relationship one day, of course it matters."
I look down. I need to change the subject. "I don’t sleep much anymore. If Michelle isn’t there I don’t sleep. He asked me to tell you that." I'm dreading where she will take that.
She sits back on the chair, getting more relaxed. "Okay. What is that?"
"Before it was just the first night somewhere new. Now it seems to be all the time. It seems to be worse."
She drags her long slender finger with a French tipped manicure back and forth along the armrest, "Since the breakup?"
I nod. I'm close to her. I trust her. I relax and take a breath and remind myself of these things. She isn’t the enemy.
"He broke up with you?"
I shake my head.
"Why are you so sad if you broke it off?"
I laugh bitterly, it's almost a sob. "I couldn’t be with him."
"Sexually?"
The word makes my skin crawl.
"Do you want to talk about the house you've mentioned before?"
I almost crawl backwards up the chair, "NO!"
She puts a delicate hand out, "Calm. Be grateful for the moments that matter. You are breathing air and are alive and the room is clean and free of germs."
I take a breath but my skin won't stop crawling and shivering.
