What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “No.” He seems to be sweating more than usual. “What good would that do? It’s not like I could get any information back to my father in time to make a difference. I’ve done my part.”

  “You’re sure that you aren’t keeping things from me? Because, whether it’s to protect me or avoid disagreeing with me, I’m not okay with dishonesty and secrets. After the whole Tristan and Bri thing, I realize that trust is paramount.” I’m giving him a second chance to fess up. He pauses for a few seconds before answering.

  “Nope, there’s nothing important to tell.” He brushes some large beads of perspiration away from his eyes. “Other than the fact I love you.” He leans in to kiss me, but I pull away.

  “The watch at the Festival? Your board trip? I know you’re lying,” I say, again with a whisper. “Plus, Ted told me about the passkey and code he gave you.” I stand up, brush off my pants and turn to leave. It’s time for me to do some thinking. He just lied to my face. Twice. Unbelievable.

  “Kira, wait.” He pops up. “Let me explain.”

  “No. I gave you the opportunity to come clean.”

  “You set a trap for me.” He complains. “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair is lying to the person you say you love. I thought we were partners—that we had each other’s backs.”

  “So, that’s it? You’re done with me just because I don’t give you a freaking log of my whereabouts?” Typical guy reaction. They’re the jerk, and they try to make the girl look like a taskmaster.

  “I think you know the difference between me being a control freak and you doing stuff behind my back that puts us in danger.”

  “Well, at least I didn’t go spend a few weeks with some girl behind your back.” Ah yes, when the taskmaster accusation doesn’t work, he accuses me of cheating. “If you want to talk about omission, let’s talk about you and Ethan and what’s really going on between you two. Obviously you’ve had a thing for him for a while since you called me by his name when you were all hopped up on TB.”

  Blake has been relentless in his accusations about Ethan. He is one-hundred-percent convinced that Ethan’s in love with me and that I return his feelings. No matter how much I try to explain that Ethan’s heart lies elsewhere, Blake responds that “feelings can change.” Sure they can. I know that. But Ethan has been consistent about loving another girl since the first night I met him. So, Blake is just being jealous and paranoid.

  “Let’s not, because we’ve already discussed it and it’s not at all relevant to you lying to me.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I’m going now.” I throw up my hands in defeat. “You go do your thing. I’ll be back later. After I’ve had a chance to cool down and think things through.”

  “I bet you go see Ethan. That’s your plan, right?” he says. “You can whine about me to him, and he can comfort you and tell you how much better he is for you than I am.” Wasn’t my plan. Not until he put the idea into my head.

  “Goodbye, Blake. I’ll see you later.” I’m done with the fight. How could Brad Darcton ever think I had a shot at getting Blake under control? I walk off, shaking my head, disillusioned about any hope of a happy ending to this bleak situation.

  Not wanting to go home, I take the mini-rail into the city, a couple short zips across the canyon to get to a residential area, and then walk around. Part of me wants to go see Ethan and the other part doesn’t want to validate Blake’s theory. It can’t hurt to at least figure out where Ethan lives. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while, and I have his address. I start walking until I’m horribly lost.

  The heat is brutal, even in the middle of the night. My clothes are clinging to my body, and my hair is matted against my head. A hubbub of activity under a portable spotlight catches my attention, and I turn towards the crowd to find someone who can give me directions.

  Bad move. As I approach, I’m pummeled with dirty water along with the rest the onlookers. Dirty, hot water. Even the water in the main lines is hot. On Thera, there’s no need to heat your water, only cool it. I try to brush the gooey, sticky mess out of my face so I can see. A young female worker apologizes to us and explains that a water main had broken earlier in the night. While they thought they had it fixed, the patch didn’t hold. Murphy’s law in action. The good news is that she kindly gives me directions to Sunflower Lane where Ethan lives.

  It occurs to me as I ring his doorbell that Ethan’s probably at work. And even if he is home, that he might prefer a visitor who isn’t covered with mud. On the short walk from the water main break to Ethan’s house, the mud dried to my body and itches like mad. Just as I turn around to leave, the door opens.

  “Kira,” Ethan says, chuckling at my ridiculous appearance. “What happened to you?” He must’ve worked tonight. He’s in Garden City Headquarters attire, which looks like it was designed just for him. The shimmery blue top matches his eyes perfectly, and the tan pants look as good as any pair of jeans would on the model-worthy boy. His appearance literally steals the breath from my lungs.

  “Well, I was walking around trying to find your place and happened upon a broken water main.”

  “Come on in.” He looks me up and down. “I was going to come by your house, but you saved me a trip. I have a surprise for you, but first…do you maybe want to get cleaned up?”

  “Getting cleaned up would be good. Unless you want mud all over your house.” I walk in and immediately remove my shoes. His house smells oddly like a fast food restaurant which makes me really hungry. “What smells so good?”

  “Stay here,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’ll be right back.” He returns a couple minutes later and has me follow him to the bathroom. A fresh towel, robe, and one of his shirts are on the counter.

  “Just throw your stuff outside the door, and I’ll wash and oven-dry your clothes. It’s as close to instant laundry service that I can offer here.” He brushes my mud-covered hair out of my eyes. “My shirt’s pretty big so I figure you can wear it as a dress in the meantime.”

  “Thanks.” He leaves, and I take a look around his bathroom. Although it’s identical to mine, the products are suited to men. I undress and open the door to put out my clothes and am thankful to be largely shielded by the door when I find Ethan waiting to take my clothes. He blushes. I bite my lip, and hand him my filthy attire before closing and locking the door. It’s not that I don’t trust him but want to secure any possible temptations. On both our parts.

  Despite it being awkward to bathe in his house, I take a quick shower, dry myself and put on Ethan’s shirt over my wet but still clean underwear. The shirt’s barely passable as a dress, extending no more than six inches past my butt. It will have to do. I crimp my wet hair with my hands and use some lotion on my face as men aren’t issued makeup. After, I join Ethan in the kitchen to see the source of the smell.

  “Are those french fries?” I place my hands on his waist and peek around him. He turns and feeds me one, doing his best to keep his eyes off my rather exposed legs but largely failing. I grab another fry. Yummy. Thin and salty, just as I like them.

  “For you, my dear, I have tried my best to recreate McDonald’s french fries, a McRib sandwich, and a chocolate shake. I planned to drop it off to you. But it will taste even better fresh.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask. “Did I do something to tick you off again? The first time you took me to McDonald’s, it was for punishment.” I try to look upset, but my grumbling tummy gives me away.

  “Oh, so you don’t want it? It’s fine.” He winks at me and then covers up the plates with his arms. “More for me.”

  “I do want it. Come on…hand it over. I’m starved, cranky, and could use some major comfort food.” I tickle him to get him to release his grip. He smiles, hands me the plate, and we both sit down at opposite sides of his dining table. I savor every bite of the greasy, calorie-laden meal and slurp down the chocolate shake while Ethan watches me.

  “So, are you going to tell
me what brought you here?” he says after he knows my mouth is food free.

  “Can’t it just be that I missed my lockup buddy?”

  “Is that the truth?” he asks, biting the corner of his lip.

  “Yes, I did miss you. Terribly.”

  “Is that really why you’re here?”

  “Yes. And no. But, I prefer not to talk about it. I just need a good distraction. Can we play a game or something?” I ask. “You think of something while I do the dishes.” I jump up from the table, stack the dishes, haul them to the kitchen, and start scrubbing.

  “Twister?” I can’t tell if he meant for me to hear that or not. I glance back at him and catch him staring at my backside, and he blushes.

  “Are my clothes dry yet? Because I think I’m being more of a distraction to you, and you’re supposed to be distracting me.” I open the oven door and check. My clothes are still wet, though making progress.

  “Sorry.” He walks over to me and sizes me up head to toe. “I promise to stop noticing how hot you look in my shirt and focus on entertaining you in a wholesome manner.” I shoot him a disapproving glare for his compliment but, also, can’t completely conceal a smile, as I have zero immunity to Ethan’s flirty side. He then lifts my chin up, stares into my eyes, and says, “Do you know that you are the only girl who can manage to be even more beautiful without makeup than with it?”

  I blush. “You’re a great liar.”

  “I’d never lie to you,” he says. After taking a deep breath he adds, “So, how can I best distract you? Do you want some dessert? Charades? Pillow fight? Tell ghost stories? Play tag? Marco polo? Hide and seek? Cuddle? What strikes your fancy?” A smile spreads from the right side of his mouth to left at the inclusion of “cuddling” in his list.

  “Let’s see. Anything except the cuddling because that could only lead to trouble.” I want to blot out my disappointment with Blake and the inevitable consequences of his actions. So I need distractions. But given how bad things are with Blake and how attracted I am to Ethan, it would take very little cuddle time to let things get out of control. And I’d like to maintain what little control I have over my life.

  “I was just messing with you,” Ethan says, looking away. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You apologize altogether too often.” I get on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re it.” I dash away and get to the other end of the house before I’m tackled. Ethan and I play hard for a few hours until well past dawn and then take two spoons to some ice cream, polishing it off. Stuffed and exhausted, I sprawl out on the floor amongst piles of pillow fluff. We had a couple purposeful casualties during our pillow fight.

  “Distracting enough for you?” He inches as close as possible without touching me. I find it very hard to be this close to him. He oozes Cleave appeal from every pore. He’s gorgeous, sweet, sensitive, fun, and attentive. But he’s not my boyfriend. Ethan and I have terrible timing. The first time we met, I was stupidly with Tristan. And now, despite all the fighting, I’m still with Blake; I have told Blake that I love him. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that Ethan’s not mine to desire.

  “Do you still love her? The girl you told me about way back when?” I ask. He rolls onto his back, inhales, and then exhales slowly.

  “Madly,” he says, glancing at me. “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone so much, but she is the smartest, most beautiful, most kind, most loyal, most caring, most fun, most incredible girl in the universe. When I’m with her, I just want time to stop forever, and, when I’m not, I can’t even think straight. My heart pounds, I’m antsy, and I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s in my every thought, every moment, so much so that I have trouble getting my work done. I constantly wonder what she’s thinking and if she feels a fraction for me the way I feel about her. I’d like to grow old together and be surrounded by our kids and grandkids and great grandkids.”

  He pauses, and I feel sick. My stomach is in my throat and my own heart is pounding a billion times a second. I’m so jealous, I can barely function. Both because he feels that way for someone else and because no one feels that way about me. Sure, Blake loves me, but it’s not the kind of undying love that Ethan has for this girl. And doesn’t every girl deserve that kind of love?

  “So, why haven’t you Cleaved her or married her or whatever?” I ask, my voice strained. Why do you keep tormenting me, flirting with me, and making me have second thoughts about being with Blake? That’s what I want to ask but can’t. No wonder he didn’t even think to come see me after I got to Thera. The other girl is the only thing on his mind all night long. He looks at me like I’m a bit crazy and shakes his head.

  “Well, for several reasons. My parents, for one, aren’t fully on board. And more important, I’m not sure she is either.” Great, so it’s my fault they’re not together. His dad has Ethan on hold as a potential Cleave for me and Father of Thera.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, and then mumble, “Here I am taking up all your time when I’m sure I’m a terribly poor substitute.” He rolls his eyes at my pity party.

  “That’s just silly talk.” He grins from the right side of his mouth again.

  “Tell me about your childhood and your family. You know everything about me. Return me the favor. What was it like to be sick? How’d you react when you had to move to earth at fifteen and live with your uncle? Was it better or worse than here? What’s your mom like? Your uncle? I want to hear every single detail.” He ponders my request for a minute before answering.

  “I, uh, don’t think you’d be very interested. I grew up in one boring little bubble. My story would put you dead asleep. Which reminds me that it’s very late. Do you want me to walk you home?” he says, looking away. Why won’t he ever talk about himself?

  “I am interested, and I’m too tired to go anywhere.” I close my eyes. “Especially home. So, put me to sleep telling me all about your boring life.” Blake would want to fight it out, and I can’t deal with that right now. I’m all about delaying confrontation. And I’d feel too guilty being at home with Blake when I’m so busy coveting the guy I cannot have.

  “But Kira…” I open my eyes. He turns to face me again, and I reach up and shush him with my fingers which he starts to kiss but stops himself.

  “I can’t. Please let me stay. Please? I’m fine to sleep right here. I know that puts you in an awkward spot, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need this.” I stare into his eyes. The wheels appear to be spinning as he tries to figure out the right move.

  “You can have my bed,” he says. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’m really fine here.” He lifts me up in his arms and takes me back to his bedroom, kissing me on my forehead before tucking me into his bed.

  He lingers on the edge of the bed and takes my hand in his. “I’m here. If you want to talk it through. But I won’t push.” He lets go and gets up to leave.

  “Wait. Where’s my bedtime story?” I ask. “I really want to hear about your life.” I have a deep desire to know what makes him tick and how he turned out the way he did given his parents and environment.

  “You should sleep,” he says, getting up to leave the room. “Good day, Kira.” What is he hiding from me? Why is it such a big deal to tell me about his childhood?

  “Thanks for being such a great…” I stop myself before I say “friend” as it doesn’t accurately describe my feelings despite it being an accurate representation of our relationship. In the back of my mind, I’m fully aware that if Blake continues to screw up, I end up Cleaved to Ethan. I should be repelled by the notion of a Darcton Cleaving. I wonder to myself if I could live with it, but I realize that I would be depriving Ethan of happiness with his true love. I feel guilty and selfish for even contemplating it.

  “I know. I’m your good friend,” he says with what I detect to be a slight bit of resentment. I want to ask him to hold me in his arms while I sleep without it meaning or implying anything, but I can’t, because it wo
uld, so I let him leave, and I hug his pillow, wafting in his scent until I fall asleep.

  It takes me a few moments to realize that I’m not in my own room. The murals differ from mine. My clothes aren’t in the dresser. I’m still wearing Ethan’s shirt. I stagger out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen to retrieve my clothes, so I can change and go home, but I stop in my tracks when I see the scene at Ethan’s dining table. Ethan, Daddy Darcton, and Mommy Darcton are all eating breakfast as if it’s a normal, everynight occurrence. Ethan’s back is to me, but Brad Darcton catches my eye. I try to smooth out my messy hair and pull Ethan’s shirt down to cover more of my body, but I’m afraid that won’t really make this look any better.

  “So Ethan,” Brad says. “How are things going with Kira? You guys looked pretty cozy at the Festival. Do you like her as much as I think you do?” I keep my feet firmly planted and fold my arms, not wanting to ruin Brad Darcton’s nightly amusement. If I did, he’d surely take it out on me somehow.

  “Keep your voice down, Dad. I told you that she’s here and sleeping. I don’t want to wake her. She seemed like she could use a good day’s rest.”

  “But how do you feel about her?” Brad pushes.

  “You, of all people, know how much I care about her. She’s fantastic. We’re good friends. But if you’re asking about anything more—well, she loves Blake Sundry, not me,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Why does he always seem to want more from me when he loves someone else?

  “I don’t know. I think they’ve been fighting,” Brad responds. Okay, that’s enough. It’s time to silence this conversation.

  “Yeah.” I approach. “Relationships suck when there are outside influences setting all the parameters.” Ethan looks terrified that I heard him talking about me with his parents. “Good evening, Ethan. Mr. And Mrs. Darcton.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were up.” Ethan stands up and offers me a chair. His hair’s more disheveled than normal, stubble more pronounced than last morn, eyes dark. I like the fresh out of bed look on him. If only I could pull it off as well. I feel frumpy. “My parents brought by some breakfast. I was hoping they’d be gone by the time you woke up.” He glares at his father, and I stay standing.