All of These Things

by De Mattea, Anna

  “You know what I mean. What happened between you and Prince Harry over there?”

  I shrug, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing. We ate, we talked, and we both said too much. It was a mistake.”

  There’s a pang of pain laced in that statement. I expel a breath after a sickening squeeze to my stomach, sinking deeper into a struggle I shouldn’t have allowed in the first place. Was meeting him today wrong, or did I just admit meeting Alec at all was the mistake? How can I feel so conflicted when I know in my heart of hearts I should stop him cold turkey? It’s crazy how confused he makes me. I’m split down the middle with urges to both laugh and scream.

  I should feel a gush of outrage towards Sofie’s attack, but I’m a hardening well of incredulity. I’m as good as numb now that Alec has renewed my misgivings, adding on gruelling, inconceivable doubts out of the blue like this. I’m too heavy and replete from his confession, and finding a snappy tone, or peeved voice to use on Sofie feels like it would be too much work for me at this point.

  “Is this about Ryan again?” she tests. “For God’s sake, Care, it can’t be that hard to get over him, so why don’t you just get on that bandwagon and do us all a favour. Dump his ass!”

  I look skyward, adrenaline spiked.

  “What exactly is your problem with Ryan?” I fire. “Is it that he’s smart? Or maybe it’s that he comes from a solid background—one that’s simple and stable, so refreshingly undramatic. He’s kind, Sofie! Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  She gives me a sly look, amused I’m pitching him so hard.

  “These days, guys his age—they’re potheads still finding themselves. Ryan’s a good guy. He’s on a good path to building a prosperous career for himself. So, once and for all, Sofie, what is it? Just come out with it already.”

  She stares at me, intimidatingly. “He’s not right for you.”

  I burst into laughter. “And you think Alec is right for me?” I say, probably looking more demonic than rattled. “You hardly know Alec yourself, and yet you keep throwing him at me. Everyone has skeletons in their closet, Sof! Even Alecsander Vaughn, I can tell you that.”

  “So?” she says. “Like you said, everyone has skeletons. I’m just saying his closet suits you more than Ryan’s.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, Alec wears his heart on his sleeve, and if there are skeletons in his closet, well, at least they’re right behind the door. Ryan’s are behind Italian suits and Italian shoes and expensive travel cases, and then probably behind another door into a secret wardrobe.”

  I baulk. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Ryan has always been upfront with me. In fact, he’s the most unambiguous person I know.”

  “In other words, he’s a boring shithead.”

  “He is not a boring shithead!”

  “Fine. Then let me ask you this,” she starts, “has he asked about Amalia, or is he just going on about how much he hates the idea that I dragged you away? Has he even offered to pitch in while you’re here, or has he ever had a round with you, challenging you to open up instead of thinking about his own comfort zone, ignoring the sometimes scary and unattractive side of your mother’s condition?” Sofie leans in.

  “The thing is, you think Ryan feels safe because he keeps topics in a safe zone. Don’t, for one minute, think he’s respecting the fact that you’re a clammed up control freak. It suits him fine that you’re not some needy, whiney chick because he really doesn’t know what to do with that. Sure, he’s totally into you, and he’s studying to get a good career going and probably already has a good chunk of money to put down on a house. He’ll marry his dream girl, have babies, drive a sexy car, and give you the keys to something safer. He’s a fucking minivan commercial, Caroline! He’s not a life.”

  I’m awash with disbelief. Sofie’s roaring with protruding, cold eyes, and doesn’t look like she’s ready to give up, either.

  “You and I have more in common than you want to admit,” she says. “I can see the wheels turning in your head when there are signs of adventure. You get a buzz from living, but you’re so eager to step on any remote chance of a life because you’re scared to put your guard down. You’re too worried about losing track of Amalia, or even becoming like her. You are your mother’s daughter, but you are not your mother.”

  I’m suddenly overstocked with gloom.

  Growing up, I’d always heard about my odds. Adults didn’t shy away from speaking aloud when I was in the room, and they shared their lists of notions and statistics about children with narcissistic mothers. It was so utterly despicable of them to talk about me, or Mom, like I wasn’t there. I remember Noni stepping in, always a front runner in my life after my father—immediately bringing inappropriate discussions to an end. How long have I been trying to prove these people wrong? I could never do that to a child—badmouthing her, her future, or her mother.

  I’m at my moment of truth as my mind revisits thoughts of Ryan.

  “What about what I’m doing to him?” I ask meekly. “I’m the bad one here, Sofie, not Ryan. Look at what I’m doing to him.”

  “So, it’s not an ideal situation,” she says at last. “But you didn’t exactly plan to figure out there were more fish in the sea. Give yourself a break! It’s not your fault you met someone more cut out for you than he is.” Sofie slides back deeper into the chair.

  “Maybe Alec popped up in your life for a reason. Whether he stays in your life or you toss him back in the water isn’t the point. The point is you learned a lot about yourself because of him and definitely more than you have in over a year with Ryan. You can’t deny that, Caroline,” she tacks on, effectively applying pressure and logic.

  My brain pitches vivid scenes from today, flashes of superlative moments. Alec’s revelation swims to the back of my mind, horrifying me a little less because everything else is undeniably first-rate in my head and in my heart. Since meeting him, my time with Alec is unrivalled, but I think I’ve had enough of a stretch to let the confession sit, and I need to get back to knowing more.

  “Do you know where he’s staying?” I ask cautiously, and Sofie displays a wide grin.

  “Kind of, but I don’t know the exact address. Jay does. Do you want me to call him?” Sofia-Marie looks up at me with eager, frenzied eyes as I rise from my seat.

  “Yeah. Call Jay, and then plug the address into my GPS. I want to go upstairs and freshen up before I pay Alec a visit.”

  Twilight picks up speed as I leave the town’s perimeter. Night-time shadows turn up sooner in the woods, darkening the serpentine roads that are tucked away from the sea. For the most part, York continues to be the kind of place where first kisses happen on porch swings and underneath fabrics of patriotic pride. The nation’s symbol dolls up everything between grungy cabins and magnificent restorations. Everything fits in on this winding road.

  Even though far and few between, glass masterpieces thrive in a mix of craftsman and Victorian styles. I’ve made up my mind about these contemporary designs. Personally, I don’t find them entirely disagreeable for the plain reason that their avant-garde exterior is actually consistent with the jagged slopes of the coastline. The navigational system alerts me that I’ve reached my end point.

  There’s a high probability Alec’s home given that his red Rover is parked on the gravel driveway. I sidle the property, and hopefully my Gulf is put out of view behind a tall, slim deciduous grouping. I consider he may be preoccupied with business calls, or he may be painting, and abruptly, I’m concerned Alec may even have a woman in there with him. In fact, the scenario is so plausible that the realization aptly hits me, and I’m chilled by a foreign sentiment of dread and possessiveness. My fear doesn’t deter me. I’m significantly emboldened, and I know I have to act on it quickly.

  I steer my car next to Alec’s hefty vehicle, making very little noise as I park it. On a concre
te base, the cabin gives the impression it’s built into a hillside, with a sage green garage door directly below one of three protruding decks. The amalgam of wood, metal, and cement work well together, and I can appreciate it since I was raised in a brick block and live inside the walls of my mother’s well-ordered, spick-and-span vintage arrangement. I’m hoping not to give away my being here just yet and reach for my phone that’s safely contained in an empty, sticky cup-holder. I call him.

  “Caroline?” Alec answers straightway, and his perfect voice thaws my apprehension.

  “Hi,” I say, dissolving in my seat.

  “Hi,” he utters.

  “Can… Are you… Can I…” I stop, and try again. “Er… Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course. Yes,” he says, briskly remedying the awkwardness. “I was hoping you’d ring me. I must say, I’m in awe that you have.”

  I struggle to come up with an ingenious response, something to keep the conversation rolling, and I fumble with making a decision about where to start. Alec’s silence tells me he’s allowing me all the time I need to find and muster up the willpower.

  “I’m… I’m sorry I left so quickly after you… you know… started telling me about yourself,” I say, pulling in a mouthful of air and slowly release it.

  He’s quiet, so mute and voiceless I can’t detect a breath.

  “I…”

  “How can you say that?” he finally cuts in. “Caroline, I prepared you to leave. I told you that you could run. You have nothing to apologize to me for, love. You could never have anything to apologize to me for. I expected you to run. I knew you would.”

  I close my eyes, riding a wave of remorse, feeling contrite. I hate that he expected that from me. I hate that I couldn’t swallow the pill well enough to deal with the upshot of side effects immediately. Alec predicted I’d freeze and panic, that I’d run off faster than he could jump out of the water. This takes me totally off course. His estimation of me suddenly feels like the be-all and end-all to my existence. Alec’s become the reason for everything—the most important part of my survival. The rest of the world has fallen away.

  “I thought about what you said,” I start up again. “I replayed the images in my head and talked myself through it, trying to understand what you were implying, and…”

  “You don’t have to try to understand. You’re not like me. You’re better.”

  I sink further into the seat. I glance up at the house, trying to determine where in the hell he could be. I could run up to the door, but I can think better from a distance. His face will distract me, and at least confined in my car, I’m better equipped to think.

  “I want to know more about what it was you started to tell me,” I say, matter-of-factly. “I need to understand that better if I’m to spend any more time with you.”

  It dawns on me that it’s already Thursday. Sofie and I are due to leave here on Sunday, and I’m to return to my responsibilities and the people waiting for me there.

  “Of course,” he answers breathlessly. I sense he’s gripped with emotion, tense with anticipation.

  Join the club, I think to myself.

  “Of course,” he repeats. “I was willing to. I’m still willing to. Everything, Caroline. I’ll tell you everything, and even if you don’t ask me something, I’ll tell you even that. Please, I want to see you.”

  Alec’s right on the button again. His damned way of saying the right thing and knowing what I want or what I need better than I know myself has been achingly gratifying. The idea that I might not see him again after we leave Maine haunts me. It’s too painful to contemplate, which makes what I’m doing here more necessary.

  “I’ll meet you,” he says. “I’ll come to you. Or you come to me! Or we’ll meet half way on the road, or at the beach, or even at the bar. I’ll climb to the top of the Ferris wheel, Caroline. I don’t care where, love, but I need to see you. I beg you.”

  Desire instantly courses through me. My body feels deprived, needy with dark yearning intensifying very low in my belly. My breathing alters. It’s a raucous of shallow breaths, and I feel like I’m sitting on a cavity that’s desperate to serve a purpose and be inhabited. I’m so aware of how barren I feel, and the recognition contracts in my core. It’s hard to bear when everything between my belly and knees feels swollen and provoked.

  “Caroline,” Alec implores. “Please, love,”

  I shudder, finding my wits nonetheless.

  “Well, then,” I say, “You’ll have to beat me to it because I’m already on my way.”

  “Stay,” he orders. “Don’t move. Stay on the phone with me, and I’ll drive out. I’m not giving you another second to rethink this. We’ll talk. Just talk, alright, love? I’m leaving immediately. Where are you, sweetheart?”

  I smirk.

  There’s a small disturbance exiting the house—a slamming door, dropping of keys, and finally, I see a very agitated Alecsander zipping down the steps. An insatiable stirring enflames my insides.

  “I’m parked next to your big, fat, flashy truck,” I announce haughtily.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Having the upper hand with Alec truly does things to me. I clamp my legs together, ogling him.

  Alec quells.

  He’s patently mollified at the bottom of the steps, and he gawks, finding me. His air is a ferocious mess and his gaze wary. I fail to repress another pretentious grin and bite my lip along with it.

  He is a superb specimen, and I don’t want to try to wrap my head around that anymore. What would be the point of finding objectivity or reason if Alec unravels me every time? I crave to come undone in the midst of his agonizing intoxication. I watch him begin to move.

  Swiftly, Alec’s by my door, swinging it ajar, and he drops on his heels. It reminds me of the night we first spoke, his face aglow as he tended to the fire. His self-assured swagger is mine for the taking.

  I’m exhilarated to see him so tense and overwrought as the outside world invades my senses. He hovers below me, watchfully and intimately. The air is fresher here—heavier with green perfumes; effortless aromatherapy permeating our confined space. I can define the mere inches between us, making it so easy to touch him if I tried. I’ve become greedy for Alec. The knowledge seeps through me like a blend of hot poison and delicious wine. He watches me inspect him, vigilant of my soaring emotions. My eyes scour through his soft curls, stopping hungrily at his mouth. His beauty is a blow to my heart, and I surrender, forfeiting my self-made resolutions about him. From the beginning, they’ve yearned for me to fail, and at long last, I give up, the world vanishing.

  I lunge at him, perhaps even pushing him back a little because he braces for a fall. I seize his face between my palms, sealing the weight of my feelings against his lips. A groan rumbles out of me, merging with one of his own. I moan, and sensations are clearly transmitted to my groin. I’ve never known desire to fog the mind like this, but my body registers every single buzz and thrill. I tighten my grip, hands scrunching Alec’s marvelous hair like it’s a supernatural phenomenon. He rises slightly, slithering against me, and we recline clumsily, sprawling across the front seats. It hurts to pull my face away from his, but I break the kiss to collect some of my bearings.

  “I had to see what that would feel like,” I say, needing to hold onto something for dear life since my heartrate is through the sun roof.

  Alec’s mouth twitches, and he cocks a brow.

  “You don’t play fair, Caroline. You must do that again because I wasn’t ready, love.” His breath stabilizes, but I’m still totally winded.

  We linger there, our eyes emptying verities and needs. Alec doesn’t shift. He hangs back, and the delay pronounces his refusal to touch me unless I’m explicitly clear to move on. My breasts ache, my lips burn, and my innards throb. I cover his mouth with mine.

  Our tongues plunge in chorus, an
d we take full advantage of our mouths. Alec clasps his hands on either side of my head, owning my mouth—our tongues grinding and bumping. It’s insane, reckless kissing like I’ve never known. His palm glides to my shoulder, inclining my chin so he explores my neck and collar bone. I moan, wanting this, and craving more as my off-the-shoulder blouse serves a bountiful purpose.

  “I could ravish you.” His whisper is penetrating. My skin spikes up, tingling. Alec’s hand slips past my arm and around my midriff. He enfolds me from the waist as his other hand caresses my hair.

  He’s so close to my many burning, heaving parts, but Alec redirects his complete manual attention to my face, clutching my head. My shorts scrub against me, sweetly chafing more deprived regions as I run my fingertips over his shirt, caressing Alec’s back. I plough my nails into his skin, and he emits a muted growl, fleetingly breaking our kiss, leaving my mouth cold and empty. I roll my hips against his, and he bears down on me, the pressure inside his jeans undeniable.

  “Caroline,” he mutters.

  “Hmm…” I speak up softly, my brain lost in action under a blissful haze.

  “First of all, I don’t care what you say, but this would have been more comfortable in my big, fat, flashy truck.” He leans in to suck on my bottom lip.

  I laugh, sliding my hands around his neck as he deposits his forehead on mine.

  “Please don’t make me live to regret this,” he continues, “but I do think we should stop—God help me—and have that talk.”

  I frown inadvertently, making Alec chortle.

  “You’re insatiable, are you?” He kisses me deeply again. “Come on, now, love. Let me bring you inside,” he says, commencing a smooth dismount.

  The gravel road up to Alec’s rental unit was steady enough, but finding sure footage after a mind-blowing kiss was not an easy task. My legs wavered, varying from quivering to numb, and lust for this man had me aching. Desire mangled my nerves, and I feel battered and contorted just carrying this heavy need. I prop my arms on the deck’s pine railing, overlooking the bottom of a hill that’s besieged by rock and green-yellow sward. I concentrate, slowly attaining a semblance of fluid, steady breaths while allowing the contagious serenity to influence me.