The Lonely

by Brown, Tara

  He looks horrified, "That’s why I put you in the middle. I've done my share of car and plane rides."

  I laugh and hang my mouth open, "Hurtful. I thought you put me in the middle cause you wanted to be the big brother and protect me from sitting by strangers."

  He nudges me, "Whatever."

  I smile and love him. We are soul mates. I pull out some hand sani and offer it to him. He puts his hands out. I squirt his and then do my own. We rub our hands together, the exact same way.

  "Dad's obsessed with it too."

  I laugh.

  "Hey so, Shell was saying you dated Sebastian Hollinger?"

  I nod, "Yeah. You know him?" I love that he calls her Shell.

  He raises his eyebrows, "Uh yeah. Everyone knows him. Quite the success story there. His dad is a fisherman or something in Maine. We were in school at the same time at MIT."

  I wrinkle my nose involuntarily, "He hates me."

  He raises an eyebrow, "Ended badly?"

  I nod, "Yeah. I came back from meeting you guys for the first time, at the end of January. It was before Eli and I had decided we wanted to be together. I had decided I just needed to be single. I told Sebastian I was taking myself off the market to do some self-discovery, he was pissed. He felt like I had led him on I think."

  He frowns, "What a wanker. Wait…did you lead him on?"

  I bite my lip and nod.

  He looks disappointed, "How could you?"

  I shrug, "I wanted him to be the one. He's normal and sweet and kind and awesome and safe. No matter how hard I tried to make it work it didn’t. He always saw the sad little orphan. I think he liked that I was broken. Eli thinks I'm the stronger one. I like that. Plus we have a spark."

  He rolls his eyes, "Girls. You're so fickle. The right one. The magical kiss. The special someone. The spark. It all equates to the same thing-bullshit. You have your minds made up when you meet us. Forcing yourself to love us for who we are is ridiculous."

  I raise my eyebrows, "Coming from the guy who hasn’t dated since twelfth grade. Jake told me."

  His face flushes like mine does, "That’s not true. I dated at college. I just put myself into my work. He's one to talk anyway, he bloody well works for me now."

  I laugh at his red face. He wrinkles his nose and sneers, "You're still a little brat."

  I stick my tongue out.

  But behind it all, I know their lives were stunted because of our situation. I was taken and everything else was hard. I'm grateful for them.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I take a deep breath and grip her hand. I look down and nod, "Do it."

  She rings the bell.

  A man in a suit answers the door.

  "Hello. How may I help you?" He has an English accent and reminds me of Niles on The Nanny. I love Netfilx.

  "We called about meeting with the Adams family." Shell snickers. I fight a grin. "Uhm…Michelle and Sarah."

  His eyes light up, "Of course. Yes. Please come in. They're expecting you." My heart is in my throat. He opens the door more and we walk in. The home is posh and overly fancy. I feel like I'm at a hotel I can't afford.

  He leads us to a study where a thin woman in a white pantsuit is waiting for us. A man is across the room doing some kind of paperwork. They are both older and worn looking, but in a rich sort of way.

  The woman in the pantsuit turns as we are announced, "Miss Mastermen and Miss Monkton to see you."

  I still feel weird being a Mastermen.

  "Thank you, Franklin. We'll take tea in the sitting room." She rushes at me and puts her hands out, "You must be Sarah." Her eyes are icy-blue like Eli's. Her smile is cold and distant. She never fully warms up I don’t think. I nod, "I am, Mrs. Adams. Thank you for seeing me."

  She shakes her head, "Gloria. Please call me Gloria."

  His father stands and offers me his hand, "And call me Dick." Michelle snorts.

  I shake his huge warm hand. "It's nice to meet you both. This is my friend Michelle."

  She waves, "Hi."

  They look phony and cold when they greet her, "Hello." They almost talk like they too have accents. They enunciate everything. Mrs. Adams' blue eyes sparkle, "We were so pleased when you called." I see a flash of pain or something in her eyes.

  I nod, "I was scared you wouldn’t want to see me."

  She shakes her head, "We never blamed you. Dear child, never."

  His father smirks, "We were actually quite grateful you existed at all. Poor Eli was considered quite mad for some time."

  It hurts me inside but I fight it and shake my head, "It was me." The words are breathy and soft.

  His father's response is not one I expected. He grabs my chin and points my face at his, "You saved her. You freed her."

  I'm not strong enough for it. I don’t want their forgiveness. I want a clean conscience. I have confessed and wish to be absolved by god, not them.

  Her lip quivers. She puts a hand up to her mouth, "Forgive me. I'm just so grateful you are here." She wraps her arms around me. I'm stunned. Even more stunned when his arms find their way around me as well. It isn’t easy to be forgiven.

  "Tea is served." I've never been grateful for that statement before but I am now. We sniffle and wipe and make our way into the sitting room, following behind Franklin. It too feels like the set of an Austen movie. Floral and fancy with gilded frames and sculptures and chairs that feel like they haven’t been broken in yet, regardless of being a hundred years old.

  I sit and take the tea on a plate with a cookie. I don’t know what I'm supposed to do with it. I stare down at the black tea and dread drinking it.

  Shell holds hers up, "Can I get some cream and sugar please."

  Franklin looks appalled. "It's got honey and lemon in it. It's Earl Grey."

  I gag.

  I stir the cup and try not to let the smell get near my face. It reminds me of the cell a bit.

  "Have you heard from Eli?" his mother asks casually, as if we hadn’t all just cried.

  I nod, "A couple weeks ago. He was in a village building houses with some missionaries and then they were leaving with some doctors from the Doctors Without Borders. They were vaccinating and stuff in a remote area."

  She sighs, "I don’t like this. I know he's fond of you, always has been. When he was in the center he used to write you these letters. It was quite sad. Anyway, surely you must be able to get him to come home?"

  My mouth waters as I catch a whiff of the tea and shake my head, "No." I swallow, "I don’t think so. He's pretty bent on finding himself."

  His dad scoffs, "It's that damned Doctor Bradley, no doubt, that put this foolish notion into his head. Her pseudo science almost lost him several times. She has those theories about pushing people to the brink. Crazy woman."

  "Yes." I raise my eyebrows. I don’t know how to tell them it was me that made him want to do this.

  Michelle sips the tea loudly before speaking, "I'm sure he's fine. It's good to go get dirty sometimes. Makes you appreciate everything else more. He's only been gone a couple months. He'll be fine."

  His parents look disturbed for a microsecond and then smile and nod.

  I look at them hesitantly, "Have you heard from Dr. Bradley at all?"

  His mother scoffs, "Hmph, she won't darken our doorway anytime soon. That woman is dangerous. Franklin has had her removed from the property. Right before he left, Eli came to us and told us an alarming tale of his recovery with her. She is insane. I blame her entirely for his want to be in South America. He's so bent on proving himself."

  His father agrees, "Yes. We have told him time and time again how proud of him we are. Someone like him cannot expect a full life and a full recovery. He is doing well for someone like him." He nods at me, "As are you."

  My blood is boiling. It's no wonder he was so dependant on Dr. Bradley, or that he was so easily swayed by her and eventually used by her. I had been stuck on the words, 'the centre', but the last sentence has me there. I stand w
ith the teacup trembling in my hands. "Well, thank you for tea and for meeting with us. We should be going though."

  Michelle is mid sip when she stands and hands the cup and saucer to Franklin, who is standing at the ready. "Have a lovely day." I want to say life. I want to practice my boxing moves. I want to scream my face off. I take deep breaths and storm to the front door. Michelle is jogging to catch up to me.

  We walk out into the cool spring air and I know what I have to do, beyond forget I ever met those people.

  I get her to drive us to the airport.

  I phone Lyle, "Hey."

  He sounds funny, "Hey."

  "I need you to book me a flight."

  Michelle looks at me like I'm nuts.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The heat of the day is unbearable to my cold Boston skin. I now it isn’t any hotter than a New Mexico summer day, but it feels like it's scorching me. The jeep I'm in has no roof. I'm holding a rag over my face to keep the sand out of my lungs. I am under prepared and completely moronic. I see this now.

  We drive until we get to a small village. The people stare at me. I'm scared and in desperate need of hand sanitizer. I don’t like the feeling of being watched. I get that my blonde hair is intriguing but I'm uncomfortable. I'm not strong enough for this.

  My driver climbs out. He's one of the drivers for the Doctors Without Borders. He picked me up from the airport that I called a patch of grass with a shack on it. Lyle and Stuart arranged everything for me.

  He looks back at me as he walks up into the village. I watch him speaking to a man. The man looks at me and makes a face. The driver looks back. My breathing is starting to make my chest rise and fall rapidly. I can feel the panic. Something is wrong.

  He comes back with a look on his face. A look I'm not sure I can handle.

  He shakes his head, "They left here about a week ago and went into a remote part of the jungle. There was a sickness there."

  "Okay well let's go there then."

  He shakes his head, "Everyone is on quarantine. No one is allowed in or out. They are calling it a plague."

  My hand dives into my shorts pocket and grabs at my sani. I dump it into my hand and spread it around. He watches me.

  "You okay?"

  I shake my head, "I want to go to him."

  He gets in the jeep, "No. We go to the closest village but if they don’t have news, we leave."

  I'm desperate and sick. He's going to die to teach me to be grateful for the time we spent together instead of always judging myself and him for it. I'm almost crying but I know the sand will be brutal if I cry.

  I look up at the clear sky and clasp my hands. I have not prayed since they made me last at church.

  "Watch, oh Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight and give your Angels and Saints charge over those who sleep. Tend your sick ones, O Lord Christ. Rest your weary ones. Bless your dying ones. Soothe your suffering ones. Pity your afflicted ones. And all for Your love's sake. Amen." I close my eyes and open my heart. I pray he can see it. He has kept me safe. Up to this point a million things could have happened differently but I see the miracle of it all. I see the help I've received. I don’t see it the way the church does but I still see it.

  "You a nun?"

  I glance at him, as he drives, "No I went to Catholic school." I lie. I don’t want him to see the poor orphan. She doesn’t really exist anyway. I never was an orphan.

  He drives back into the small town where I have a room.

  I see him instantly. He looks different. More tanned but like there is less of something. It isn’t anger. He has tons of that on his face. He's walking to the jeep, irate. At first I think it's a mirage but then I realize it isn’t. He's far too mad to be a mirage.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice is low and growled.

  I look at the driver, "Thanks."

  He looks scared, "That him then?"

  I nod, "Yup."

  "Good luck Miss."

  Eli rips the door open and offers me his hand. I take it and swallow. The touch is a million times better than I thought it would be but I'm still scared.

  He drags me to the small hotel. He climbs the stairs and produces a key. I'm not even slightly surprised when he opens the door to my room.

  "Corrupt third world countries." I mutter. He closes the door and presses his back into it.

  I want to jump on him but I have a slight twinge in my belly.

  "What did I say when I left?"

  I bite my lip.

  "I said don’t go anywhere without your brothers and Stuart and not to leave Chicago or Boston. Did you misunderstand my words?"

  I step forward on my tiptoes and press my sandy, salty lips against him. He doesn’t kiss back. I speak into his lips, "You are not the boss of me. If you can gallivant in South America, then so can I."

  He has me in his arms instantly.

  "You scared me." He whispers.

  I nod, "Ditto."

  He pulls me back, "We are leaving in an hour. I have flights booked."

  I frown, "You're leaving the missionaries?"

  He shakes his head, "Not exactly. We never made it to our last destination. There is a sickness. All tourists are being sent home unless they have medical experience. I do not. Pack your bags. We leave as soon as possible."

  I want to pull his clothes off, but the idea of the sand and the dirt is a huge turn off.

  I kiss his lips once more and pack my stuff.

  "I went to your parents house. I confessed it was me."

  He looks concerned, "They knew that already. Why?"

  "I need absolution from God for my sin."

  He rolls his eyes, "You don’t get to pick and chose how religious you are. You never go to church. Why need absolution over that? It wasn’t your fault."

  I grab my stuff and walk to him, "I just needed to."

  "Were they cruel to you?" His eyes are hard.

  I almost flinch, "God no. They were perfectly polite. Hugged me once even."

  Shock lifts his eyebrows up before he can catch himself.

  "They told me about the center."

  He swallows, "Did they?" His eyes cool off again.

  I nod. I put a hand out, it's so creamy white against his dark face. "I needed to hold you and make sure you were okay."

  He kisses my palm, almost making me gag. He smiles, "I have you. I'll always be okay."

  "I need you to now I was wrong. You don't need to live here and be grateful because it was so cushy and easy for you growing up."

  His mouth twitches.

  "My life was easier than yours. There is no doubt. Those nuns loved me way more than those people loved you."

  He licks his lips and shakes his head, "It doesn’t matter. I am grateful. I see what we have and I found you and I trust that you're going to be okay. Coming here made me see that."

  "I love you, Eli."

  He kisses my lips softly, "I am grateful for you."

  I nod and open the door. He grabs my arm and pulls me into his embrace. I close my eyes and it's perfection. The kiss is needy and desperate but it's closed mouth. It's the words we don't say. Words like I needed you more than anything in the entire world and here you are. It's the sentences neither of us can say. Neither of us likes grand gestures or big words. But the kiss says it all, the desperate tremble of his fears against mine, speak volumes compared to the words we may or may not be able to say.

  When it breaks he whispers, "Let's go home."

  Epilogue

  I don’t know where he is. It was his stupid idea to move into together. I look out over the snow and in the window and grimace at the first snowfall of the year. I look around and wonder where he is. I rode the elevator alone, carried the groceries to the kitchen by myself and put them away.

  I sat on the couch for ten-minutes waiting for him to attack me savagely, but he never graced me with his presence. I sit down and tap my finger against the sofa and remind myself of Dr. Bradley.
I stop and look around, sighing, annoyed. I get up and walk down the hallway to have a bath. I hear something that makes me stop. It's in the bedroom at the far end of the hall. The one I made him put a lock on.

  My heart pounds, excitement and terror take up equal amounts of space. The hair on my head even tingles. I shudder and slip my boots off. I tiptoe to the end of the hallway to the large door. I swallow.

  I close my eyes and turn the knob. It's locked. I drop to my knees as a new terror begins to creep in. What if he isn’t alone? Is that a possibility that I have not ever considered out of foolish naivety? I place my fingers around the cold knob and peer into the keyhole on the wooden door. He insisted on it being an old fashioned key, an intricate looking one that would look like it belonged on the boudoir of a man and his mistress. I roll my eyes thinking about the way he said it, all pretentious and ridiculous.

  Now, however, I'm grateful he's a snobby bastard. I'm trying desperately to control my breathing as my mother's words about him loving me more than anything in the world are flashing through my mind. I blink in front of the key.

  I jump and scream when I see his eye, also peeking through the hole.

  The door is unlocked and opened. He has the wickedly cocky smile.

  "Spying on me? Really? Are you so insecure?" I frown. He's in that mood. I want to argue, I know what that will entail.

  He steps to the side, leaving me just enough room to enter. I walk past him with my head high in the air. He loosens his tie and rolls his sleeves up. I catch a glimpse of his tats and scars. I lick my lips and forget about the bath. He closes the door, grinning.

  He walks to the corner and sits in his chair.

  He's in luck. I had planned on us having savage sex in the living room. Mostly because he refuses to do it anywhere but a bed, but I've been working on my seduction. Today I came prepared.

  I unzip my jacket and let it drop to the floor. It's the only sound in the room. I pull my ponytail out and shake my head back and forth. Walking closer to the bed I undo one button on my blouse. I turn and face him as I slowly get the others. His mouth opens when he sees what's underneath. He's shocked. I like that.