by B. K. Rivers
“I know I did all I could, but I wish I could have done more. I’ve been so in love with the guy for so long, it just hurts that I wasn’t enough for him to get better.”
“First of all, I highly doubt what you felt was really love, more like serious infatuation. Secondly, you are enough. You’re more than enough. He’s just not thinking right, he may never think right.” He pauses and releases a deep breath. “Wow, giving the girl I like advice about a guy she likes is a first for me.”
“Wait, you like me?” Poking him in the stomach with my finger to tease him seems childish now that I’ve done it. But he doesn’t seem to mind or care. Instead his finger comes to rest under my chin and he lifts my face to his and kisses my forehead softly.
“Yes, I like you.”
Knowing I have more to tell, I offer to get us something to snack on from the kitchen. It’s after eleven, and since neither of us has had anything to drink or eat in a while, a bag of stick pretzels and a two-liter of Sprite will have to do. I grab two coffee cups and a couple napkins and join Vic back on the sofa.
“So I take it that there is more to this story,” Vic says as he shifts positions on the couch and guides me to sit between his legs.
Before I chicken out, or before Vic asks me another question, I let the contents of my heart spill out before him. I lay everything out on the line.
“I was pregnant,” I say, and feel Vic’s chest rise and hold. “When I was seventeen I thought this guy would be the one to get Jordan out of my head. We went out for a while and then one night we got a little drunk after the homecoming dance in October and had sex. It was only one time and for whatever reason I got pregnant. I freaked out, didn’t tell anyone, dumped my boyfriend, and stopped hanging out with my friends. Not even Gran knew. I couldn’t tell her. She would have been so disappointed in me. I was terrified, embarrassed, and completely alone.”
I sniff, wipe my nose with the back of my hand, and take four deep breaths, preparing myself to relive one of the worst times in my life.
“For almost four months I hid everything, blamed the nausea on stress, cried into my pillow, and tried to imagine what I was going to do with a baby. Then one night in January, I was lying in bed and started having the worst stomach pains in my life. I threw up all over my bed and then ran to the bathroom and…” As if on cue, my body begins shaking, my fingers clench into fists, and tears spring from my eyes.
Vic’s arms wrap around me, embracing me tightly. He whispers soothing words in my ear and once again lets me cry.
“God, I’m a mess,” I say, and then swipe my hands over my face. “Vic, the baby, oh God, it fell into the toilet.” Sobs rack through me so fiercely that Vic has to hold me even tighter. Wet tears drop onto my head and I realize Vic, too, is crying, which only makes more tears fall. Through my sobbing, I continue. “The baby was so small, no bigger than my middle finger. I fished it out of the toilet and held it to my chest for what seemed like hours. When the sun began to come up, I had to do something or else Gran would find out. So I cradled the baby in my ruined clothes, cleaned up the bathroom, and then found a box. I buried the baby along with my clothes under one of the great big trees on the ranch.”
Vic continues to let me cry into his chest while he strokes my hair and brushes my arms with his hands. I don’t know how long I cried until I fell asleep, but when I wake up I have to pee so bad I nearly push Vic off the couch. Amazingly, he doesn’t wake up as I climb over him and tiptoe down the hall to the bathroom. One look in the mirror is all it takes for me to want to shove my face into a paper sack and run away. Mascara has run down my cheeks, and my lips and eyes are puffy and red. I look hideous and feel like my whole body has lost all its moisture. Splashing water on my face at least allows me to clean off the mascara and makeup and look somewhat normal.
All the lights are off in the house, which means Angie and Caleb are home too. I hope they don’t mind that Vic and I fell asleep on the couch. A wave of embarrassment washes over me for that, though we didn’t do anything inappropriate. In the kitchen, the clock on the microwave reads four thirteen and I’m feeling wide awake. Nothing like spilling your life story to someone you hardly know to wake you up.
My stomach growls while I’m standing in front of the fridge, so I slowly open it to see if something looks good to snack on. Inside there is some fruit and vegetables, milk, and some other odds and ends. I grab an apple, shut the fridge, and leap away when Vic’s shadow emerges from behind the fridge door.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I answer, holding the apple to my chest. The moon casts light through a kitchen window, silhouetting him in darkness, making his stature seem larger.
“Sorry,” he says with a smile. “I’m going to cut out of here, I’ve got work in the morning.”
My heart sinks as though I’m riding a rollercoaster and the car just dropped. Of course he’s leaving. Why would anyone stick around after what I told him?
“Okay, sorry about last night.” I’m a total mess. Tears are near the surface again for no reason other than I shared something so personal that no one else has ever known, and now he’s clearing out.
Vic steps closer to me, reaches for the apple, and sets it on the counter. He sighs, brings his hand to my chin, and gently pulls my face up to look at him. Even in the dark I can see the pale blue of his eyes and how they scan my face.
“I’m not running away, Jemma.” Vic’s other hand runs down my arm and stops at my waist, pulling me into him. “I really do need to get home and get ready for work. I need to be at the station by seven and I’ve got an hour’s drive to get home.”
His arms wrap around me, engulfing me in his warmth and musky smell. He rests his chin on the top of my head and squeezes me tightly.
“Do you have plans on Tuesday?” he asks.
“Tuesday?” I look up at him, and in doing so, cause his lips to brush down my forehead, sending a flash of heat through me.
“It’s my day off and I wanted to take you out on a proper date.”
“This isn’t just some pity date, is it?”
Vic brushes his lips, feather light, down my cheek and whispers, “No.”
“But I don’t date. At least I shouldn’t date.”
His lips brush over my cheek and rest on the side of my lips, and it’s taking all my self-control not to turn my head mere centimeters and kiss him.
“So that’s a no?” he asks, sliding his lips away.
I let out a tiny sigh in protest before answering. “It’s a yes. Now will you please kiss me?”
Vic smiles against my cheek and drops his arms. “Sorry, no can do. Kissing is reserved for dates.”
What? “You’re kidding, right?”
He laughs, gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and gathers his wallet and keys. “I’ll see you Tuesday,” he says as he slips out the front door, leaving me wondering what the heck just happened.
On my drive back home, my phone beeps. It’s a text from Vic telling me to be ready for our date on Tuesday by eight in the morning and to dress casually but to bring a light jacket. I’m not sure what he has planned, and it is three days away, but I can feel my stomach winding tightly in nervousness and excitement.
Chapter 30
Jordan
The world is spinning. There are so many faces here and I haven’t the slightest idea who any of them are. Someone shouts my name from across the room but it sounds more like they are talking through gallons of water. Two girls flank me on this couch, neither I’ve seen before. They both are stoned shitless and touching me, more like petting me. Their hands run down my arms and rest on my thighs. I’m so numb I can hardly feel them.
Again I hear my name being called from across the room. Glancing over the crowd of people, I think I catch sight of Randy and the gang. He nods and waves me over. I excuse myself from the pair of girls on the couch and make my way through the pulsating and gyrating bodies to Randy, who has an arm draped over
Elise. His hand rests on her left tit and I have to wonder if she’s sober enough to know it’s there.
“Check this shit out,” Randy says as he pulls some white pills from his pocket. “This shit’s the bomb.”
“What is it?” I ask as I hurriedly take the four he’s given me.
Randy shrugs his shoulders and squeezes Elise’s tit hard enough she winces.
“Jesus, Randy. Stop living up to your name. God!” Elise plucks Randy’s hand off her chest and drops it.
“Come on, babe, let’s go get shit-faced and do the nasty in front of all these people.” Randy smiles, grabs Elise’s ass, and she just rolls her eyes.
“We’re already shit-faced, you dipshit. And I’m not putting on a show for just anyone.” Elise winks, grabs Randy’s hand, and pulls him through the crowd.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I walk back toward the couch and see the two girls have somehow increased to three. The one in the middle looks vaguely familiar but I can’t place her.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, hoping one of the three will know.
“It’s her party,” the one in the middle says while jerking her head to the right.
The girl on the right has white-blond hair with pink and purple bangs, dark eye makeup that makes her eyes look small, and is wearing a nearly see-through white shirt and a miniscule skirt. She smiles to one side, uncrosses her legs, revealing her lack of underclothing, and suddenly my pants are too tight.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” The girl stands and her skirt is riding up so high she might as well be wearing nothing. “I’m Leah.”
I nod as I take in her name and watch her ass as she leads me through the crowd, then through a hallway, and then she knocks on a door. There is no answer from the other side so she opens the door and pushes me inside. She quickly locks the door behind us, grabs my shirt, and pushes me against the door. Her mouth is on mine in a matter of seconds and she’s working the button on my jeans until it pops open. She thrusts her hands down my pants, gripping my shlong, and practically rips him out of my jeans.
“Whoa there, Lee, Lil…” Her name has escaped me.
“Leah,” she whispers into my mouth. She pulls me away from the door to the bathroom counter where she bends over and hitches up her skirt. “God, I’ve always wanted to do this.”
My eyes practically pop out of my head. She is totally commando under that skirt and ready to go. Who am I to turn a girl down?
***
The days and parties keep raging on and the girls keep flocking to me like vultures to prey and I can’t fight them off fast enough. Between the sex and the shitload of drugs, I’m beginning to feel free of her. Here at yet another party with Randy and the gang, a girl who walks by me catches me off guard. She has long blond hair and from the behind is a dead ringer for Jemma. I push through the crowd, following her, my heart pounding in my head and chest. She stops to talk to a group of girls and without hesitation I place my hand on her shoulder. She turns around, obviously startled, and my heart nearly stops and falls to the floor.
“Hands off, freak,” she says with a look of disgust on her face that looks nothing like Jemma’s.
“Shit, sorry. I thought you were someone else.” I back away, find the keg, and down three beers and chase them with lines of coke off some girl’s midsection. Sometime in the night Randy gave me some more of the mystery white pills, and not caring how high I get tonight, I swallow four and down half a bottle of Everclear. The party is pulsing, the lights flicker on and off, and my head feels like it’s floating off my neck. Everything is spinning. Bodies turn into globs with blazing red eyes and fire breath. Words are indiscernible and…
Chapter 31
Jemma
I can’t believe how nervous I am. My chores are finished. I’ve showered and had breakfast with Gran on the porch. Choosing an outfit for the day is like choosing which carousel horse to ride. I have so many choices, yet none seem like just the right one. Why didn’t I go shopping for something new for this date?
“Gran! I have nothing to wear,” I shout down the stairs. I hear her slow steps shuffle across the floor downstairs, and sigh when I see her at the bottom of the stairs.
“If this boy likes you, I’m sure whatever you have will be just fine,” she says, trying to reassure me.
“What am I going to do?” My plea is beginning to sound more like a whine by the minute. I’m freaking out a bit with only having roughly twenty minutes before Vic arrives, so I send a quick text off to Trish, begging her for help. She calls moments later and walks me through choosing an outfit and I settle on pale pink capris, a white tank, and a sheer black button-up shirt. I shrug on a pair of black Toms and then grab a black cardigan and a small purse. I really hope this is good enough, which is a good thing because the chime of the doorbell echoes up the stairs. Voices carry up the hall and my nervousness increases exponentially.
“You didn’t tell me your gran was so good-looking, Jemma,” Vic says with a dimpled smile. My knees weaken at the sight of him wearing a pale blue button-down shirt tucked into his fitted jeans and leather belt. I laugh to myself when I see he’s wearing a pair of Toms as well.
“Flattery will get you nothing,” Gran calls back as she shuffles back to her chair. Vic laughs and then I watch as his eyes rake over me and heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Ready to go?”
Nodding, I blow a kiss to Gran as Vic places his hand on my lower back and guides me out the door to his truck.
“You washed your truck?” I ask as he closes the door behind me. It was clean when I was in it on Saturday, but it’s now super clean, even the dash gleams. He smiles and climbs into the driver’s seat.
“I have a big day planned, are you ready for this?”
“Where are we going?”
“Ahh, a good magician never reveals his tricks,” Vic says slyly. “Besides, I’ve got you for the entire day. The possibilities are endless.”
Conversation is casual and simple, ranging from his job to my horses.
“How come you never asked me out in high school?”
Vic’s dimples deepen as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Pretty much because I was a senior and you were a freshman. At the time, as much as I admired you from afar, I thought I was too old for you. You know, life experiences and all.”
“But now that I’m twenty, it’s okay?” His logic could very well be flawed.
“Sure. We’re both older and age doesn’t seem to be as important anymore.”
We continue the drive and when we’re fifteen minutes out of town, Vic pulls off onto a dirt road that cuts through some green fields and winds down between farmland. The road is so rough I grab hold of the oh shit handle and hope he knows where he’s going. The road grows narrower and tall pine trees begin flanking the sides as though we’re driving through an open-roofed tunnel. We continue to drive deeper into the trees and at the bottom of a hill we stop at a sparkling stream that cuts through the narrow valley.
“We’re here,” Vic says, smiling ear to ear.
“Where is here, exactly?” My door swings open and Vic helps me out of the truck. The crisp, fresh April air fills my senses and I’m overwhelmed with the beauty of the landscape. The tall grass is green and lush, wild daisies and mustard flowers are in full bloom. And the stream, it looks like diamonds flowing through the grass.
Vic drops the tailgate of his truck and jumps in the back, pulling out a black duffel bag.
“Are you up for a little walking?” Vic asks as he hops down. “This way.” I follow beside him as we walk upstream through a narrow trail that wanders parallel to the water.
“This place is amazing,” I say in awe. “How did you ever find it?”
His shoulders straighten and he smiles. “It’s mine.”
I stop in my tracks. “Wait, what? You own this land?”
He nods as he reaches for my hand. “It’s just a little bit farther.” His hand is warm and reassuring in mine. There is no awk
ward out-of-sync rhythm to find, it’s just there and natural. We climb a small grassy rise and come upon a piece of flat land with a house in the middle of construction. There is a cement foundation, framed walls, and a roof covered in plywood.
“Welcome to my home.” Vic beams with pride and I’m speechless. We’re standing outside the front entry and I can’t help but take in the view from here. Even though the walls are not yet solid, I can picture the windows and how they frame the trees and stream like a beautiful piece of artwork.
“Vic, I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”
His cheeks flush and he looks down at our joined hands, his long lashes brushing his cheeks. “I’ve been building this house for three years, working when I can.”
“You’ve built this yourself?”
“Yeah, though sometimes my dad or brother helps.”
“Will you show me around?”
Vic lays the duffel bag on the front steps and leads me through the framed-in front door. He walks me through the entry, which turns into the main living space for the kitchen and family room and the dining area. Then he takes me through a small guest bedroom and bathroom with an exit to the backyard. His hand squeezes mine once in a while, and every time he does, a shock of something electric bursts through me. The woodsy scent of the pine two-by-fours reminds me of the pine shavings I use in the horse stalls for bedding, and I feel at home.
We walk up the stairs by the entry to a large loft space with two bedrooms and a bathroom on the left. Then he walks me through the doorway to the master bedroom on the right. I gasp at the view from the windows. It’s breathtaking. The stream flows through small boulders and grassy inlets and just a few yards upstream is a small, glistening waterfall. The lush pine trees and wildflowers frame the stream and surrounding hills like a watercolor painting. When I turn back to Vic, the pride he feels for this home he is creating and one day hopes to live in is reflected in the lines on his face and the glimmer in his eyes.
