Stop!

by Alison G. Bailey

  Turning to him, I stammered, “Ho… ow did… you…”

  “Chuck knows a guy, a senior music major, who owed him a favor. Don’t ask. Chuck owes me a ton of favors, so I called one in.”

  “And the flowers are beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like them. I never understood why guys give girls flowers at the beginning of a date. You just end up lugging them around all night. I hope you weren’t too disappointed that I didn’t have them when I picked you up.”

  “I didn’t expect any.”

  “What kind of a boyfriend would I be, not giving my girl flowers?”

  “That’s right, you’re my boyfriend now.” I beamed.

  “You want to sit down?”

  Swinging my head from side-to-side, I looked around the room. Other than one small table where most of the candles sat, the piano, and the bench, there was no other furniture in the room.

  “At the piano?”

  “Yeah, at the piano.” He sat down on the bench, patting the space beside him.

  I drew in a deep breath and took a timid step toward him. Risher and I had been in close proximity before, more so tonight than any other time. We held hands for most of the night. But there was something about being shoulder-to-shoulder, arm-to-arm, and thigh-to-thigh that sent my nerves into overdrive.

  As I took my seat, the sound of In Her Eyes by Joshua Radin filtered through the room. Risher’s fingers effortlessly glided over the black and white keys, as he sang the poetic words. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but I heard every beautiful note.

  I swear, if this boy tells me he’s made of chocolate, I’m going to curl into the fetal position and weep like a baby. He’s perfect.

  After the song ended he waited a second before turning to me. When he did, the look in his eyes was a mixture of doubt and desire. For the first time, I saw a hint of bashfulness wash over Risher’s face. I wanted him to know how much I loved all he’d done to make this the most special night of my life.

  “That was incredible. I had no idea you could play the piano and sing.”

  “It’s more like I play around with the piano. I’m not very good.” His lips curled into a shy smile.

  “No, you’re not very good. You’re very, very amazing.”

  Our eyes locked. Nothing would keep us from kissing here. We were completely alone with no threat of anyone walking in on us. I wanted to kiss him. He was my boyfriend now and kissing was one of the perks. Thoughts of his fingertips running over my cheek flooded my head. The makeup hid the unevenness of my scar well, but Risher would feel the lumps and bumps if he touched me.

  “Hollis, are you okay?”

  Deflect with humor. Get bantering.

  “Okay? I’m more than okay.”

  He leaned in, causing goose bumps to cover every inch of my skin.

  Sounding all breathy, I said, “You’re getting pretty close there, fella. In fact, you’re about to invade my personal bubble.”

  His shy smile was replaced by a sexy lopsided smirk. “Pop.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He inched closer. “Pop.”

  “So this is how it is? You ply me with Italian food and sweetness and I’m supposed to put out?” I teased.

  His gaze fell from my eyes to my mouth. “Pop.”

  My head spun, my heart pounded, and my everything else tingled.

  “Pop,” he whispered.

  Wow, his mouth looks really hot saying that word.

  He closed the last tiny space, bringing us nose-to-nose. “Pop.” The word floated over my lips.

  Dear Baby Jesus, please do not let my body emit any natural sounds at this moment.

  His lips brushed one corner of my mouth. “Pop.”

  He moved to the other side and repeated. “Pop.”

  The word was barely audible.

  His lips skimmed to the center of my mouth. “Pop.”

  As the word left his lips, mine opened. Our tongues slowly circled each other’s, moving deeper with each turn. He placed a hand on my upper thigh, slightly gripping the material of my skirt. I ran my palm over the muscles of his arm up to his shoulder. A slight whimper escaped me as I pushed farther into his mouth. I was like a hot dog licking an ice cube. I had no idea how much I missed kissing. Although, I’m sure the fact that Risher was the kissee fueled my eagerness. A deep moan came from the back of his throat, as my fingers dove into his dark hair. I stopped everything for a split second, thinking it was a moan of pain and not pleasure. But Risher quickly informed me we were still good to go, by wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him.

  We stayed like this until I couldn’t feel my lips any longer and most of the candles had burned out. I floated to the dorm with flowers in one hand and Risher in the other. This was the happiest I had ever been. For the first time in more than a year, I was excited for what would come next—the day, the week, the month, and the year.

  “HOLLIS, COULD YOU dial down the post–Golden Boy–date glow, it’s keeping me awake,” Benton grumbled.

  It had been an hour since I said goodbye to Risher and my obnoxiously bright smile hadn’t faded in the least. The only other light in the room was from the moon shining outside the window. I was lying in bed giving sleep the old college try, but it was useless. Benton had been tossing and turning in his bed for as long as I had been glowing.

  The night with Risher played on a continuous loop in my head. I recreated every one of his words, smiles, winks, looks, and touches. My body shivered as I thought about our kissing session and my heart fluttered each time I looked over at the flowers he gave me. He was the perfect combination of sweet, respectful, and flirty. I had kissed boys before and enjoyed it. But after kissing Risher, I realized what I had done with those other boys was a basic face suck. Risher had finesse. At times his touch was gentle and innocent, and then it skirted on the edge of hotness. But he kept his hands in the designated area appropriate for a first date.

  Before I got burned, Maggie and I would always do a postmortem the day after our dates. I don’t know why we put ourselves through the torment. The date report started out okay, but quickly went south when we got down to the nitty-gritty, picking apart every little aspect of what the boy said or did. Usually, our egos came out the victims. A lot of, “What did he mean by that?” and “Why didn’t he do this?” were discussed ad nauseam, never ending with an answer. A good date soon turned to trash after we shredded it. I didn’t want to do that with my date tonight. The attention I’d been getting over the past year made me feel less than. Like I had ruined someone’s day because they had the misfortune of seeing me. Risher’s attention made me feel special and beautiful. When he looked at me, it was as if I had made his day worth getting up for.

  “Benton, are you still awake?” I whispered.

  “Of course, I’m still awake. I’m never going to be able to sleep again.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Do you really want to know, or is it, you just want to rattle on about being hopelessly devoted to Golden Boy?”

  “God, you’re in a pissy mood.”

  “Sorry, I was on the phone with my parents earlier.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “And throw shade on the Golden Boy aura. Not a chance.”

  I hurled one of my pillows into the dark, aimed at Benton. “Stop calling him that. He’s an amazing person.”

  “Why? Because he has dreamaay eyeez.” He chuckled.

  “You’re an ass.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So, have you?”

  “Been in love? No, not yet.” There was disappointment in his tone.

  “Do you want to be?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Just forget about it.” I huffed.

  We lay quietly in the dark for several seconds. A deep intake of air from across the room disrupted the stillness.

  “Yes, I’d like to be in love one day,” he admitted.

 
Even though I couldn’t see Benton, I turned onto my side to face him. “Want to hear something weird?”

  “Always.”

  “When Maggie and I were thirteen, we’d go to the mall, sit at the food court, and dib dudes.”

  “Dib dudes?”

  “If you saw a boy you thought was cute, you’d claim him as your own. Then talk about what the future would be like with your dibbed dude. Of course, the ones Maggie and I picked would be best friends. We’d do everything together, go to football games, parties, and dances. We’d all go to the same college, get engaged around the same time, and our weddings would be the same year, but at least six months apart.”

  “At least.”

  “Neither Maggie nor I wanted to steal focus from the other.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then we’d get pregnant together…”

  “That’d be quite a feat.”

  “And our kids would grow up being best friends, just like me and Maggie did.”

  “And all of this would happen with dudes y’all didn’t even know yet?”

  I chuckled. “It was silly, I know. Something even more ridiculous, my Mom and I used to…”

  “Stop, you dib-duded with your mom?”

  “No! When Mom and I would go shopping and pass a bridal store, we’d poke our heads in to look at the latest designs. And at family weddings we’d make mental notes about what we liked and didn’t like. My wedding was just about planned except for the groom. My parents wanted me to get an education and have a career, but they also wanted me to have what they had. That special person who thought their daughter was as incredible as they thought she was.”

  “That’s not so weird, Hollis.”

  Pressure tightened around my throat as I felt tears flood my eyes. “I know. The weird part is, after the incident at the lake, all of it stopped. No more dibbing dudes. No more bridal shops.”

  My thoughts went back to the day my future shifted. After a year, I still couldn’t remember the exact sequence of events from the time of the explosion to waking up in the hospital. But my sensory memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

  “Do you know what skin smells like when it’s burning?”

  “Like chicken?”

  Laughter broke free from my throat. “That’s so inappropriate.”

  “It made you laugh, though.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what does it smell like?”

  “Nothing. It’s just the smell of smoke. You don’t even really feel anything at first. I mean, we’re talking seconds before my brain registered what was happening. Not a long time, but long enough for part of me to disintegrate.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, Hollis.”

  “I know the chances are slim to none of me having the future Maggie and I talked about, or that one special person in my life that my parents wanted me to have. But tonight was the first time I felt like it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities.”

  “You think Risher’s your forever dibbed dude?”

  “It’s too early to tell. But in this moment, I sure would like him to be.”

  The room fell silent again. I got the feeling Benton wanted to share something with me. He definitely wasn’t as closed off as Abigail, although he was very hesitant when it came to opening himself up completely. But there was something about the dark that made it easier to expose parts of yourself that were too ugly to show during the daylight.

  The sound of his voice vibrated through the darkness. “Now do you wanna hear something weird?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Tonight my dad asked me if I was honoring my end of our bargain. That’s code for, are you being the daughter we raised. In my best girlie voice, I said, “Yes, Sir.” I don’t like lying to my parents.” Regret laced his words.

  “But if you told them the truth, they’d make you go home.” My heart broke for Benton.

  “When I was eleven, I hit puberty. I hated all the changes my body was going through. I didn’t want curves or to have a period. It felt like I was being held down and forced to be this creature.” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “I used to starve myself, hoping that would slow things down. I thought if I wore a snug sports bra and wrapped duct tape around my chest as tight as I could, I’d be able to keep from developing. But those fucking tits came in anyway. I was getting dressed one day and my chest was hurting. I guess with growing pains. Just putting the sports bra on was painful. I got beyond frustrated because I couldn’t get my chest flat enough. I don’t remember making the decision, I just remember needing to get them off of me. I walked into my parents’ bathroom, took my dad’s straight razor, and started cutting them off.”

  Tears caused by my own memory turned into tears for Benton. “My god. That’s how you got the scars on your chest.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “I’d push the blade in as deep as I could stand it before switching to the other one. There was so much blood—on my hands, running down my stomach, soaking into the damn skirt they made me wear. Mom walked in and freaked. When Dad heard her cries, he came running in, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me hard. He got in my face and screamed. Calling me deformed and a disgrace. He said people in the church already referred to me as a freak and God was going to send me to Hell. The blood of his child was dripping down his arm and the first thing that concerned him was what other people thought. And I just stood there and let him shake me and say those things to me.”

  He gasped for air, trying to hold back a sob.

  “Benton, he was probably out of his mind and in shock.” I choked on the words.

  “He hates that I was born. I could see it back then and every time he looks at me. There’s nothing but contempt in his eyes. I don’t fit into his box and he doesn’t know what to do with that… with me. I’m his flesh and blood. Whether I’m a girl or a boy, should be irrelevant. I’m his child. His child who hates this body I’m forced to live in, so much, that I thought cutting off parts of it was a good option.”

  The room filled with sobs from both of us. My instinct was to go over and wrap my arms around him. But I knew he needed to get all of this out, so I stayed in the shadows.

  “And here comes the weird part, ladies and gentlemen.” He laughed sarcastically. “I loved him then and I still love him. And if I can love him through all of that, why can’t he love me through all of this?”

  A loud gush of air left his lungs along with the pent-up pressure of holding on to those words.

  I didn’t give an answer because I didn’t have one. My parents loved me unconditionally before, during, and after my scars. There was nothing I could say to make things better or even give comfort, and Benton knew that. He didn’t want some simplistic, keep-your-chin-up bullshit. He just wanted someone to hear him and not judge him.

  THE SWEET AND SPICY smell of garlic, basil, thyme, and tomatoes surrounded me as the last noodle wiggled its way into my mouth. Benton made good on his promise and took me out for spaghetti and meatballs at a little diner about forty-five minutes away from campus. This was the first time we had been out in public together. We’d pass each other occasionally on campus and I saw him in Algebra class. Per his request, I never acknowledged him. The only way he’d be able to live his life as Benton was to remain under the radar.

  We spent most of the meal talking and laughing like good friends do. But somewhere between discussing Professor Wilson’s sweat-stained shirt and me inhaling my last meatball something changed.

  I tore off another piece of garlic bread and swirled it around my plate, soaking it with sauce. “I swear, the guy must have a glandular problem. Why would he pick a career that required him to be in front of a large crowd? It’s so gross when he turns around and his shirt is sticking to his back. You can see all the hair.”

  Benton shifted in his seat, his gaze darting to the side for the third time in the past few minutes. “Are you about done?”

  “Almos
t. What’s your deal?”

  “I need to get back and study. I have an English exam tomorrow.”

  “Well, hold your horses. I’ll be done in a bit.”

  “I’m going to get the car. This should cover dinner,” he said, tossing money on the table.

  “I’ll only be five more minutes.”

  He slid from the booth and out the door in record time. I made sure the waitress got the money for our food before following Benton.

  “Hey, slow down.” I walked up behind him and grabbed his arm. “Benton, talk to me. What happened back there?”

  Turning, he said, “Didn’t you notice Shaffer?”

  “Seeing as how I have no clue who that is, no.”

  “The giant no-neck dude from class.”

  “Oh, I’ve only seen him from the back.”

  “Well, he’s in the diner with a couple of his buddies. We need to go.”

  “Benton, they probably didn’t even notice us.”

  The words weren’t out of my mouth good before the mammoth wall of muscles came walking in our direction. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, taking up the entire sidewalk. Benton’s body visibly tensed.

  “Stand still, Hollis. Don’t look at them.” Benton locked eyes with me. I thought for a second he’d stopped breathing, like that would aid in the disappearing act.

  Both Benton and I had a 4.0 GPA and we were applying the logic of a two-year-old in this situation. If we stood real still, we’d be invisible to the Boogie Man. I mean, we were in the middle of the sidewalk on a fairly busy street. Even if the guys didn’t see us at the diner, we were most definitely on their radar now.

  Just when it looked like we were about to be bulldozed by the three giants, they parted. Shaffer went right while the other two guys went left.

  “Faggot.” Shaffer coughed the hateful word.

  Benton’s only movement was the dropping of his gaze as he whispered, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”

  “Dyke,” one of the other guys muttered under his breath.

  Benton continued, his voice barely audible. “I will strengthen you and help you.”

  The third guy chuckled and muttered, “Freak.”