Broken Lullabies

by Nicole Simone

  “Did you drive here?” I questioned.

  “No, an anal retentive Uber driver brought me to this fine establishment,” she giggled. “I said ‘anal.’”

  The drugs were beginning to take effect. That was fast. “Come on. You’re riding with me.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll call another Uber or a taxi or a spaceship. Ohhhh. A spaceship would be cool. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Aliens freak me out. They’re too green.”

  She nodded gravely. “You’re right, they are. They should be pink, or blue like Smurfs.”

  “Smurfs also freak me out.”

  “How?! They are so cute and snuggly.” Camille hugged herself, the crutches clattering to the ground.

  A patient clad in a white paper gown went around us, but not without first shooting a curious glance at Camille. “Painkillers,” I mouthed in explanation.

  “Lucky bitch,” he mumbled and continued dragging his pole of liquids down the hallway.

  I righted the crutches then stuck them back under Camille’s armpits. “Come on. My car is this way.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout which made me want to kiss her breathless. She looked too cute for her own good. “That’s so far.”

  “It’s two feet to the elevator then another three to my car.”

  “That’s like a million football fields away.”

  “Would you rather I drove around to the front?”

  “Yes, please.”

  High as a kite, I didn’t necessarily trust her to be left alone, but there weren’t any other options. We would be stuck in this depressing hallway until the pain pills wore off. Leading Camille to the waiting room, I asked the receptionist to keep an eye on her. She agreed, but only if I played for an extra thirty minutes at her daughter’s party. Through gritted teeth, I agreed. Camille owed me big time. Screaming teenyboppers were my own personal hell.

  My late 1950s, mint condition Ford truck came to a stuttering stop in front of the ER. I jumped out and was genuinely relieved Camille was exactly where I’d left her. Although I did have to drag her away from a lively conversation with a man who had a penis drawn on his forehead. Throwing her crutches in the truck bed, I helped her inside and put the truck into drive.

  “Where do you live?”

  “123 Sesame Street!” Camille bellowed, collapsing into a fit of hysterics.

  “Camille, concentrate. Where . Do. You. Live?”

  “1st and West Roy.”

  “Is that Lower Queen?”

  “Yuppers. My building is next door to Little Darlings.” She yanked the handle on her seat and lowered it to a lounge position. “You can’t miss it.” Yawning, Camille crossed her arms across her chest. “Wake me up when we get there.”

  Soon after, she was out like a light. I navigated the city streets to her neighborhood, which in comparison to Pioneer Square weren’t bad, but I didn’t like the idea of her living near crackheads and strippers. It wasn’t safe. Without an address to go on, I parked my truck on the corner. Camille snored softly in the passenger seat, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. Even asleep, she wasn’t content. I longed to chase away her nightmares, but considering I was probably the main reason behind them, I was lost on how to help. My fingertips brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. She batted at my hand, and with a snort, turned toward the door. A soft laugh bubbled free from my throat. I didn’t deserve Camille, but I sure as hell wished I did. She was the kind of woman that painted rainbows on a rain soaked sky. She was also the kind of woman who turned men into hapless saps.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I sing-songed.

  She peeled open her eyelids, one by one. Looking around, confusion seeped into her expression. “Where are we?”

  “We are in front of your apartment building.”

  “And you drove me.”

  It wasn’t a question as much as a statement. Nevertheless, I answered her. “Yes, I drove you and now I’m going to help you to your front door.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough.”

  “My mother would slap me sideways if I forgot my manners.” A ghost of a grin turned up her lips and I smiled. “Really, it’s no problem. I have no other pressing appointments to attend.”

  “You’re a rock star. I’m sure you have a long list of fun things to do tonight.”

  “I can do them later. Right now, I’m with you. Besides, you are highly entertaining when you are hopped up on pain pills.”

  “I’m not high,” Camille denied.

  “Really? Is that why you had a conversation with a man who had a penis on his forehead? Or had hopes to ride a spaceship back to your apartment?”

  Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. “This always happens.”

  “Awesome. Remind me to smoke with you sometime.”

  Her laugher sounded like church bells as she playfully smacked my shoulder. There was a ninety-nine percent chance if we stayed in the truck, the temptation to kiss her would prove overwhelming. Hence the reason why I jumped out onto the sidewalk as if my ass was on fire. There would be no locking lips with Camille. Things between us had to stay strictly PG. Or even better, G.

  Going around to the passenger side, I opened her door. “Do you have an elevator?”

  “Does it look like my building has an elevator?”

  I followed her train of sight across the street to the hodgepodge exterior -- brick on the lower half and grey stucco on the upper half. A tired black and white awning hung above the front door.

  “I’ll have to carry you then,” I said.

  “Hell to the no you are not. Grab me my crutches.”

  I did as she asked and ignored the stab of disappointment. The process to get to her apartment took about five million years since Camille refused any sort of help. It didn’t matter she had to ascend five flights of stairs on one leg, or was still feeling the effects of the pain pills; her pride was greater than the inconvenience. She clumsily dug around in her front pocket for her keys then proceeded to drop them on the floor. I bent down and picked them up. Camille let out a squeal of protest as I unlocked the front door. When I entered the living room, I understood why her panties were in a bunch. Bloody footprints leading to the bedroom graced her hardwood floors. A morbid sense of curiosity tugged me toward the scene of the crime. Camille cried out for me to stop, which I ignored and kept walking. My heart hammered in my chest as my hand gripped the knob and turned.

  “Holy crap,” I breathed.

  It looked like somebody got in a fight with a mirror and lost -- badly.

  “A paperweight actually.”

  My head swiveled over my shoulder. Camille stared through me to the bedroom beyond.

  “Sorry, that thought was supposed to stay in my head.”

  I closed the door, sealing off whatever bad juju had transpired amongst those four walls. Camille sat on the couch and I propped a pillow under her leg so it was elevated. As the seconds ticked by in silence, the elephant in the room increased to a hulking blue whale. No matter how thick the tension got though, I wouldn’t bring it up unless Camille did. I had already crossed some serious boundaries by infiltrating her bedroom.

  The stillness began to strangle me. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “I wasn’t like this before...”

  Camille’s voice hovered above a whisper. Turning to face her, I didn’t dare move another muscle, afraid if I did, it would jerk her out of the trance she found herself in.

  A beat passed then she spoke. “I was a typical twenty-year-old who had the future served to her on a platter, which looking back, I took for granted. I thought I had infinite time on my side. Partying and flirting with boys sounded like more fun than studying. Then...” Her haunted green eyes swirled. “Everything got turned on its head. Anger became a second skin, most of my friends faded away, and whatever ounce of control I had, dissolved. Now I’m here with a busted foot because I shattered a paperweight against the wall. It’s pathetic,” Camil
le spat.

  Over the years, what had happened to the girl in the red dress had tortured me endlessly. I never thought though I would witness the repercussions of that night with my own two eyes. While it was clear from the get-go Camille had suffered a blow to her self-confidence, I had convinced myself the damage didn’t delve any deeper. I had been wrong. I had set aflame the woman she’d been on the brink of becoming. My hands curled into fists while a heavy dose of raging guilt passed over me. What the hell was I doing? I needed to run as far away as possible from Camille, feverishly hoping she would find solace, because I knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t find it with me in her life.

  “I should go,” I said, rising from the couch. “You need your sleep.”

  She blinked out of her trance and looked up at me. Confusion darkening her features. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yea, I have to get up early for work...”

  “We both know that’s a lie. You’re leaving because I freaked you out. Didn’t I?” Camille laughed without mirth. “I don’t blame you. I would leave too.”

  Running my hand across my face, I sighed deeply and sat back down. “That’s not it.”

  “No? Because that’s what it looks like.”

  “Not everything is what it seems.”

  A growl ripped from her lips as she threw her hands in the air. “Stop speaking in stupid riddles. I hate riddles.”

  She was adorable when she was frustrated, but having three sisters, I knew to keep that fact to myself. Compliments weren’t welcome when they were in a mood.

  “We all have our demons, Camille. Yours don’t scare me,” I said.

  “Are we playing a pissing game of who is more fucked up?”

  The strain in the air dissolved, as did the bundle of knots in my chest. “It would be a tie, for sure.”

  Camille inched to my side of the couch. I lifted my arm around her shoulder and curled her up against me. This act of affection could have been due to the drugs or a simple need to feel closeness, but whatever it was, I didn’t want it to end.

  My eyelids peeled open and I hazily looked around my bedroom. The broken glass had been cleaned up along with the blood. Unless a magical cleaning fairy visited me last night, Matthew had gone above and beyond his role as friend. Friend? Did I seriously use that word? Shock tumbled in my stomach. Since when did we become friends? The memory of me using him as a pillow after pouring my guts out floated into my mind. Groaning, I yanked the pillow over my head and wished for a slow and painful death. Matthew had gotten an exclusive inside look at the monsters hidden in my closet. Monsters even my closest friends didn’t know about, yet he’d stayed. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Even as elation took a front row seat, it wasn’t something I wanted to admit. The smell of bacon wafted in from the kitchen. Throwing on a robe, a dull ache shot up my leg as my bandaged foot touched the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my crutches leaning against the closet door. With a gentle push, I balanced on my left foot and hopped to the other side of the room.

  Victory was mine.

  I followed my nose and nearly tripped at the sight of a shirtless Matthew leaning over the stove. His hair was sexily rumpled while his broad shoulders rippled with muscles.

  “Is there any particular reason you decided to forgo your shirt this morning?” I asked.

  As he turned around, my heart stuttered in my chest. His front was more impressive than his back. A delicious v-line dipped below his pants and an eight-pack was carved into his stomach. Heat coursed between my thighs.

  “I spilled orange juice on it,” he smiled sheepishly. “The plastic thingy put up a struggle.”

  “Do you want me to wash it in the sink?” Matthew’s eyebrows bunched together in question. “The washer is broken,” I explained.

  “Isn’t it in the job description of your landlord to fix appliances that go on the fritz?”

  “You would think, but he has a greater passion for horse racing.”

  “Is it in the basement?”

  Matthew had done enough; he wasn’t going to fix my washer as well. “Maybe, maybe not.” My eyes wandered to the stove. “I didn’t know I had bacon in the fridge.”

  “You didn’t. I paid a visit to the store and picked up a few staples.”

  “Sorry. I don’t cook.”

  “That was obvious by the two-year-old jar of pickles and expired mayo.”

  “In my defense, I had plans to make tuna salad.”

  “When? Last year?”

  My shrug earned Matthew’s laugh, which in turn brought a smile to my face. Late morning light streamed through the bamboo curtains and spilled across the hardwood floors. Happiness radiated in my core. I liked waking up and having Matthew in my apartment. It was a dangerous thought to have, but one I couldn’t tamp down. He brought out a set of my emotions I thought were all but gone.

  “You are ridiculous,” Matthew cracked. “I’ll have to teach you to cook sometime.”

  “Marlene has already tried. Everything I touch turns to cinders.”

  “I’m not talking about baking. I’m talking about cooking, which is more about trusting your taste buds.”

  The timer dinged on the oven and Matthew slipped on a pair of oven mitts. A golden brown quiche was set on the counter. He slipped a knife in the center then declared it satisfactory. If any of Matthew’s fans were here to witness his domesticity, they would faint in delight.

  “Take a seat and I’ll serve you,” he said.

  I wanted him to serve me in a whole different way than he was offering. An image of him between my thighs putting his tongue to good use made me bite my lower lip to quell a moan. Matthew’s eyes heated as his gaze dropped to my mouth. Sexual tension crackled in the air. Why was it the worst ideas were the most tempting?

  “You need to stop looking at me like that, Camille,” Matthew warned.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want me to fuck you on the edge of the dining room table.”

  “It’s a sturdy table.”

  Faster than I could breathe, Matthew shrank the gap between us and crowded me against the counter. “We would cross boundaries that are better left uncrossed.”

  “Why? You’re single. I’m single. What’s the problem? It’s not like I’m asking for any kind of commitment.”

  “You deserve commitment.” Matthew’s electrifying stare roamed my face. “You deserve the whole fucking world, but I’m not the kind of man who could give that to you.”

  “What kind of man are you then?”

  His steel grey eyes changed to a frightening shade of black. “The kind you should stay away from.”

  I sucked in a lungful of air as his thumb dragged across my lower lip. Need coiled tightly in my stomach. Lowering his head, Matthew brushed a featherlight kiss against my mouth.

  Reeling back, he spoke with remorse. “I’m sorry -- so incredibly sorry, Camille.”

  I got the sense he wasn’t apologizing for leaving me high and dry. But what exactly he was apologizing for confounded me. Matthew kissed my forehead, turned around, and exited the kitchen. Seconds later, the front door clicked shut.

  Three weeks later, I stood in line to grab coffee for Marlene and I. With Luke on tour, she had to juggle being a single mom while pregnant. I couldn’t imagine how difficult that must be. Making hers a decaf, I settled for a latte and paid the cashier

  On the way over to her house, the ability to drive again felt like a luxury. The doctor had given me the clear a couple of days ago, which I’d celebrated by going on a hike in the mountains. While the fresh air had been invigorating, the quiet had allowed my mind to travel to Matthew. We hadn’t talked since the morning he kissed me. The man was the master of the Irish Goodbye, an annoying trait that he should work on.

  As if the universe wanted to torture me, the radio began to blast Five Guys’ recent single – Glitter Covered Lies. Matthew’s husky voice spilled out of the speakers. I punched the off button and sat in silence the re
st of the drive to Marlene’s. Pulling into her driveway, I shut off the engine and used the spare key to enter her house. Quietly, I tiptoed to the back where the master bedroom was. Marlene and her daughter, Nil, were asleep, cuddling.

  Wafting the coffee cup under her nose, Marlene stirred and awoke from her slumber. I pointed to the living room. Once she nodded, I slipped out and waited for her on the sofa. Hair smashed on one side, eyes glazed, Marlene swiped the coffee from my outstretched hand. She took a large gulp and practically moaned.

  “It’s decaf,” I admitted sheepishly.

  Marlene studied it then took another gulp. Shrugging, she plopped onto the couch. “Thanks. You are a true friend. What brings you by on this fine morning?”

  “Nothing in particular. I had a break in between classes and thought you might need some cheering up.”

  She immediately perked up in her seat. “You know what would really cheer me up?”

  Frantically, I waved my hands in front of my face. “No! No, no, no. We are not going there.”

  “We are. I deserve an answer.”

  “I told you my answer. Matthew and I hadn’t met before that night. He’s simply one of those people who gets under your skin.”

  “Being best friends for as long as we have, I have the right to call bullshit.”

  “You do, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Marlene was as stubborn as a bull, but so was I. She had some notion in her head that Matthew and I belonged together. After his brushoff though, it had been clear there wasn’t a future for us. I needed less drama in my life, not more.

  “The chemistry exploded around you two,” she stated. “And I saw how you kept looking at him when you thought he wasn’t doing the same.”

  “Marlene, drop it. You are not playing matchmaker.”