Beautiful Burn

by Adriane Leigh

  “No traveling? The beach?”

  “The beach probably, but traveling? No. Michigan is the asshole of the Midwest -- you have to drive around a massive body of water to get anywhere worth going.” She commented, flippant.

  “Why would you want to drive around it? We’re lucky to live on the Great Lakes. So much to do with all that fresh water. Fishing, snowboarding, kayaking…have you kayaked the shore? It’s an experience.”

  “Mr. West, didn’t know you were so active. A real go-getter.” Her eyes came alive when she laughed.

  I chuckled and replied. “I spent a lot of my time wanting to get out, but at some point it dawned that we live in one of the best places on earth. I want to explore everything there is to offer in my own backyard before escaping it.”

  “Kayaking?” Her thumb caressed the rough denim on her thigh subconsciously as she watched me.

  “It’s pretty awesome. I’ve kayaked the shoreline of Lake Michigan in different spots, but my bucket list is the Pictured Rocks on Lake Superior. Weaving in and out of natural archways, waterfalls, and caves surrounded by mineral-stained sandstone cliffs…” I finished languidly.

  “Sounds beautiful.”

  “It is. I’m sorry to cut this short, but I've got an appointment at eleven. Maybe we can continue this tomorrow?”

  “I'll be here with bells on.” She stood with a wink and a smile.

  “I want to know how your project goes though.” I stood and reached out to touch her elbow but then thought better of it. “Email me, or we can talk after class?”

  She nodded and walked ahead of me to the door. My fingers itched to dust along the curve of her back to guide her. I clenched my fists at my sides and shook the inappropriate thoughts from my head. It was important for a teacher to stay calm, cool-headed, and make the right decision, always. If I wanted to continue to guide Auburn with her writing, I’d need to keep these sudden impulses to touch her in check.

  Auburn paused, swiping her tongue across her lips as she considered something. “Hey, Mr. West?”

  “Yeah, Auburn?” I shoved my hands in my pockets, registering indecision in her eyes and something else, something...promising.

  “Maybe you could take me kayaking sometime.” My fists clenched in my pockets, my surprised mouth hung open, unable to form a word. Her dark chestnut eyes dropped to my lips and lingered there before meeting my eyes again. “I’d want to be with someone experienced the first time.” A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes.

  With those words, every ounce of restraint I’d convinced myself I needed flew head-first out a high-rise window. I cleared my throat. “Sure...” I opened the door, desperate for space so my brain could return to its normal functions. Auburn smiled at me softly as she brushed past, her long hair floating down the hallway behind her as I watched, rooted and riveted with an equally anxious and excited feeling rolling in my stomach. Having Auburn in my life this summer may prove to be the happy distraction I so desperately needed.

  I drove the few miles home that afternoon, my mind replaying the conversation I'd had with Auburn. She'd asked me how I was and I'd glossed over it, but there was a piece of me that wanted to open up to someone about what was inside my head. And I had a feeling Auburn would listen. Even in high school, she was never one to speak before thinking and always chose her words carefully.

  Pine-scented Michigan air whipped through the cab of my Blazer as I drove the twisting miles along the west bay, my mind falling back to the moment I'd finally decided to make the change I'd been so desperate for.

  “What?!” Her accusing eyes had spun to meet mine. She'd clutched at my hand, held it so tightly in my own, as if holding on tightly would keep me here, bound to her as I'd always been.

  It wouldn’t.

  “I want a separation. I know it’s cliché, but it isn’t you, it’s me. I swear, Mel,” I pleaded with my wife as she sat hurling insults from the overstuffed leather couch in our spacious four-bedroom home.

  “Bullshit, Reed. Fucking bullshit.” Her delicate hand had ripped from mine as she stood and stalked across the room.

  “I swear to you, Mel… I’ve been so fucked in the head lately.” I'd followed behind her.

  “Stay away from me.” The pain in her voice still resonated in the dark chambers of my heart.

  “Mel.” I'd reached for her. She'd shrugged me off then and shoved a palm into my chest. I clutched as if she’d grabbed at my heart and tightened it in a vice grip. It had felt like I couldn’t breathe, it still felt like I couldn’t breathe most days.

  “Let’s just talk for a minute,” I pleaded.

  “Talk?! What have we been doing for the last year and a half in therapy?! Did you just go to appease me? Because clearly you weren’t invested in our marriage like I thought you were!” Her cold sneer rattled my bones.

  “Oh please, all we do is fight when we sit on that couch. Please, Mel. I just need some time to think things through. After everything we've been through…”

  “You can't leave me, Reed. What about a family…” We'd had the kid conversation multiple times, but it'd never felt like the right time. Now I knew why.

  “I'm sorry. I need to get my head together. I feel like…” I tried to swallow down the words, lock them in my throat to shield her from the scar it would leave, but I was desperate for honesty. “What I want has changed.”

  “Reed.” Her eyes narrowed. “You think I haven't changed? That I don't think about a different life sometimes with someone better off, less moody?!”

  I remember I'd clenched my jaw so tightly it'd ached. Mel was always pressing me to make more money, do more with her friends and their husbands. I was tired down to the marrow of my bones of all of this. “I'm sorry Mel, I am.” I muttered sincerely, though still determined. “I’ve just lost me somewhere in this life we’ve created…” I trailed off because there was nothing more to say. That last statement was the crux of my deep-seated unhappiness.

  I'd sat silently, watching her work the words over in her head. The pain, the anger, the frustration, the confusion. After all, we had everything. I was a teacher at the high school we’d both attended in our small town of Sutton's Bay, Michigan, where she was a substitute teacher waiting for a permanent position. We'd married in college and bought our first home, a four-bedroom ranch on a quiet cul-de-sac, with a heft downpayment from her parents. I'd protested, uncomfortable with taking anything from them, but Mel had insisted, and I'd relented.

  But at some point, our dream had crumbled before our eyes. She grew irritable waiting for a teaching position to open up in our small town and began talking about moving to a bigger district. The stress mounted, and before long we were bickering more than loving. Two years of fighting later, and I'd finally come to the sad conclusion that adversity doesn't always bring two people together, sometimes it shines a spotlight on the things that aren't working, magnifying them until you realize that love isn't always enough.

  “I’ll get a hotel tonight.” I'd stood, grabbing the packed duffle that I'd tucked behind the recliner near the door.

  “Reed…”

  “This is for the best, Mel. We both know it.” I'd said, my muscles aching with a bone-deep fatigue I'd never felt before.

  I suddenly found myself wondering if the instant attraction, the spark that came to life when Auburn and I were together, was something I'd drummed out of a fantasy. Maybe I only felt that way because my marriage was falling apart, because I was looking for a distraction from all the things on my mind.

  But that wasn't how it felt. It felt like the earth had slammed to a halt when our eyes connected in class two days ago, all but erasing the last three years. It felt like my heart galloped at triple speed when she laughed. It felt like the soul-shattering awareness that comes when your soul connects with it's match.

  three

  I poured my second cup of coffee before nine am and settled on the small balcony that overlooked the quaint downtown. I'd rented a tiny, one bedroom along
main street in a remodeled Victorian.

  Fishing my phone from the pocket of my shorts, I took another sip as I basked in the sparkling summer morning sun and checked my work email. It wasn’t uncommon for students to message me in the wee hours of the morning as they toiled over a paper, all too often looking for extensions, but I was surprised to see an email from Auburn in my inbox. Too curious to even consider waiting, I opened the email with the subject line that read “HELP!”

  A long jumble of run-on sentences greeted me. She was on the so-called writer's ledge, I knew that moment – that point in the book where the writer would rather hide under a rock than write another word.

  My eyes scanned the text again as I thought of her writing the frantic email at three o'clock in the morning as the timestamp indicated. Smiling, I suddenly found myself thrilled at the thought she was thinking about me in the early morning hours. I wished I could see her in person. I wanted to see the way her dark hair melted to golden brown tips in the sunlight, all wavy and windblown like she spent every day outside. How had I suppressed how much she captured my attention before?

  I thought briefly about emailing her back and offering to meet her for coffee to hash things out, but then thought better of it. I had to be cognizant of the position a friendship with her put me in…us in. An ultimately impossible one.

  Calm down. Remember what we talked about? Write about LIFE, in particular how life FEELS.

  I hit send and before I’d read through the entirety of the next email on my list, my inbox chimed.

  I can’t. Please, I need help. I have nothing. Inspire me.

  Inspire me. Jesus Christ, what did she mean? My fingers twitched as I wrote back the one question that wouldn’t stop rattling around in my brain.

  How can I inspire you?

  I rubbed my fingertips together, my breaths shallow and distracted as I waited for her response. I didn’t have to wait long.

  Give me anything.

  “Anything?” I mumbled aloud, setting my phone on my knee as I considered her words. I sat like that for five minutes, her name staring out at me like a beacon when it dawned on me that she should not be emailing me at my school address. Not that anything incriminating had been said, but the innuendo that bounced between us was nearly impossible to deny.

  Before I could think twice, I sent her a quick reply.

  Email me here —reedwrites@vmail.com

  And I waited. I distractedly scanned my other emails, checked the morning's headlines, before giving up and stumbling in for my third and final cup of coffee. In my defense, they were small mugs, at least that's what I told my doctor. I settled at the desk tucked into the corner of my small living room, when my phone vibrated with a new email. Curious, I opened the app for my personal email on my phone and found the message I'd been hoping for.

  This is me emailing you here.

  I grinned as I read her reply. I was becoming addicted to her words, she'd always had a playful sarcasm about her, a smart mouth and even smarter mind behind it. I couldn't wait to see her again.

  Perfect. Are you busy tonight?

  I typed before I could think and immediately hit send. Then I took a moment to process the possible disastrous implications of those words.

  ***

  “I have to say, I'm a little worried about what it says about my moral compass meeting you out here all alone.” Her amused voice carried on the breeze as she approached. I turned to take her in. Just before sunset on the lake was a sight to behold, but seeing it shine off her rich hair and coppery skin sucked the air from my lungs.

  I'd made quick work of securing the old rowboat I rarely used anymore to the top of the Blazer and met her out here at Stony Point. “Smart girl. Safety first.” I lifted my lips in a crooked grin. “Step in.” I stretched a hand out to her. One eyebrow rose for a millisecond when she stepped to me, lifted one foot and then the other foot behind her, and carefully took off each of her beat up Chucks before her long leg stretched past me and into the precariously balanced rowboat.

  “Can I trust you?” she whispered breathlessly as she stood beside me, our hands still clasped, the breeze lifting her hair and trailing it across the rough stubble of my jawline. She smelled like cherry blossoms after a soft spring rain laced with notes of honeysuckle and lavender. My eyes drifted closed as I inhaled and relished in a scent so uniquely hers, so tied to my memory of her that it transported me to some safe place under the veil of a star-crossed sky where pain and heartache didn't exist.

  “With my life,” I murmured, drunk on her proximity, my heart beating so fucking loudly I swore she could hear it in the inches that separated us. My eyes zeroed in on her slightly parted lips, a strand of errant hair falling across her neck and teasing at her collarbone. She finally smiled and released my hand, her other foot planting itself inside the boat.

  “Ready, captain?” I waited for her to sit before I pushed the boat off shore and leapt in.

  “It's chilly.” She rubbed her palms together and looked out to the horizon.

  “Sorry, I should have told you to bring a sweatshirt.” I frowned and prayed for calm winds. A trip across the bay could be miserable with just a cool breeze. I watched as she dropped one hand in the water, ripples fanning out as her fingertips skimmed the surface. A half smile curved her lips as she watched. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world at the moment, and I envied her.

  Gentle rocking swayed us as I took hold of the oars and pumped. I was used to this, relished the slight burn in my biceps, the tightness in my already tightly etched abdominals as I worked. Rowing was one of my favorite forms of exercise. I never got into the whole gym scene -- I got outdoors. I loved the woods and water too much to not spend all my free time in them.

  “Is it safe to be way out here like this...in a rowboat?” Her words whispered across the wind, brown eyes wide, worry becoming evident on her face.

  “I've done this a hundred times. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I must not really be a boat person. I hope you’ve got a bag,” she laughed while shaking a cigarette out of her pack. “Want one?” She held the wrinkled box out.

  The urge to indulge in one cigarette surprised even me. “I’d rather share one.” And with that simple statement, my stomach dropped, my mind fell, and I lost my moral compass. I wanted her. She was forbidden and taboo but our past pulled at us. I was older, her teacher, still married, and I fucking wanted to possess her. Own her. Make her scream and cum and beg for more. What the hell was I thinking?

  A half smile tilted her lips as she lit the cigarette in her mouth, sucked a long draw, then held it out to me.

  “Put it in my mouth.” My eyes locked with hers.

  “With pleasure,” she cast me a sexy look before holding the cigarette in front of my lips. I pulled it into my mouth, wrapped it around my lips and inhaled. I blew the smoke out as my eyes landed on hers. I found them riveted. Not on my eyes, but on my lips. My suddenly parched lips. I exhaled and flicked my tongue out to trace a path of dampness across the top and bottom. Her mouth popped open for a fraction before she closed it again, her eyes darting up to mine before she pulled away.

  “You’re a bad influence,” I finally said.

  “I could say the same for you.” She released a sardonic laugh before taking another draw as she looked out to the dark, lapping waves against the side of the rowboat. “Where are we going?”

  “Old Mission,” I answered.

  “Really?”

  “Sure. Why not?” My forearms burned with the delicious tingle of muscles being pushed to the limit.

  “Why not just drive it?” She shrugged and puffed again, looking at me thoughtfully.

  “Hey–puff, puff, pass.” Her eyes widened before she shook her head and held the cigarette out to me, one elegant arm extended in the moonlight. Captivating smooth lines and curves. I sucked the cigarette into my mouth and took another quick puff and blew it out. “What’s the fun in driving? You miss the experience. That�
�s what you asked me for, right? Inspiration? Here it is, you’re living it, baby. Soak it up.” Her laugh carried on the air around us and had me pumping faster, more determined than ever to get there. I was anxious to show her what I had in store.

  “Great. I’m all ears. Hit me with inspiration.” She gestured with her hands in a way that was both awkward and endearing.

  “Turn around.” I indicated over her shoulder.

  Her head whipped, hair flying, before a soft, “Oh,” escaped from her lips.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” I slowed my rowing as we approached the shoreline of the slim peninsula that darted into the bay. I relaxed my arms, feeling an uncharacteristic fatigue burning at my muscles. I rubbed at my neck and shoulder as I watched her stub out her cigarette and shove the butt into her pack.

  “It feels like the end of the world.” The rowboat scraped sandy bottom Auburn launched into the water. Her shriek filled the silent breeze around us as she hit the water, my laugh following while she ran up to shore. She’d only been in up to mid-calf, but I doubted the waters of Lake Michigan had risen to a comfortable swimming temperature yet.

  “It’s beautiful.” She stood in awe on the beach while I pulled the boat out of the surf.

  “It’s my favorite time to come.” We stood shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, yet close enough for platonic feelings to be choked out by more intimate ones.

  “You come here a lot?”

  “Sure. It's peaceful, and the rowing is good exercise. Come on, there’s a path.” I snagged her hand in mine to lead her. I heard the singing sand whispering beneath her feet as she followed me down the shore a few hundred yards. “Here.” I stopped and gestured. It was the perfect spot to fully appreciate this moment.