With Every Sunset

by Jane Stevie Lake

  “Good evening, sir. My name’s Alexander,” Xander introduced himself, extending his hand to my dad.

  My dad stared at it for a while before shaking it, “I haven’t heard your name mentioned before.”

  I groaned inwardly, remembering all the times my mother had sung Xander’s praises to my dad.

  Xander smiled briefly, “I was just dropping Charlie off, she was helping me with an assignment, and we lost track of time. I’m sorry to bring her home late.”

  My dad raised his eyebrows in approval and I rolled my eyes at this farce. It was barely seven!

  “Hmm, I’m glad you brought her home safely.”

  “Okay,” I cut in, “Xander here has to rush to basketball practice. Right, Xander?”

  “Yes, please send my regards to your mother.”

  What? Where was this decency coming from?

  “I will,” I smiled, patting him on the shoulder while my eyes shot daggers at him.

  My father stared at us, “Charlie, please get inside. It’s getting cold out here.”

  “Alright, goodbye Xander. Let’s go, Dad,” I chirped.

  “You go on ahead, Xander and I are going to have a word.”

  I sent a pleading look towards my dad, which he ignored. Xander’s cockiness was fading fast, but I was too alarmed to tease him. My dad nudged me inside, closed the door behind me and turned to Xander.

  Xander

  The situation had escalated very quickly. The plan had been to drop Charlie off, meet her dad briefly and leave quickly. As stupid as it would sound, I wanted to know what obstacles stood in my way as far as she was concerned. I thought if I could make everyone around her like me, she would be pleased and I would get points for trying. Earlier on in the week, I had had small favours done for her friends, and that morning I had purchased children’s books for donation to the hospital. I wanted her to stay, to fall in love with me before I told her the whole story of my life. I had expected to make her dad like me for the image I presented, but I hadn’t bargained on him asking to speak to me privately.

  “So, Alexander,” he said, gesturing for me to sit on one of the chairs outside their porch. “What’s your real deal?”

  His question didn’t exactly catch me off guard, but I was still unsure of how to answer him. “Pardon me, sir?”

  He laughed quietly, “Yes, please, pardon me, sir…you’re well mannered.”

  I smiled nervously, not knowing where this was going. “Uhh, thank you, sir.”

  He sighed thoughtfully, placing his hands on his thighs, “What do you do for fun?”

  “I play basketball,” I replied.

  He nodded his head, “I see. What music do you listen to?”

  I mentally perused my records at home and went over the playlists in my phone. No way I was answering that question honestly. “A little bit of everything, sir.”

  He laughed, “Good answer, I also wasn’t listening to anything worth bragging about in college.”

  I resisted the urge to look up, fearing he would be looking at me and seeing through me. This man was pretty smart.

  “Your hair always that long?” he asked after some time.

  I coughed, “No…well, yes.”

  “Which is it?”

  I considered my answer, impressing parents had never been this hard. “I’ve started to like it like this, sir.”

  “Okay, do you drive?”

  “I do,” I nodded, fast running out of charm. “I got my car a few years ago.”

  “What make?”

  “It’s a ’58 Signet Red Corvette.”

  “Classic, and expensive,” he mused.

  I remained silent, and opted instead to pick at the hem of my shirt.

  He broke the silence, “Tell me, Alexander, when was the last time you got into a physical fight?”

  “Uhh, I really don’t-”

  He cut in, patting me on the shoulder, “Come on, now. You can be honest.”

  Yeah, right. “Recently.”

  “Why?” he asked, with a surprising lack of judgement in his tone.

  I sighed, remembering my fight with Ron over Charlie. “There’s this guy on my team, he was kind of harassing Charlie last week, and we got into a fight.”

  “So, from what I can gather, you’re a rich boy who seems to also fall on the bad boy side. I recognise the bad boy in you because that was once me too. You’re not afraid to use your fists, but you prefer to charm those you can and fight those you must. You didn’t volunteer any information about your family, which may or may not be alarming. But your redeeming quality is that you fought for my daughter, and I can only hope you don’t make a habit of getting into fights.”

  “Umm, okay,” I said, mentally exhausted by his psychoanalysis. It seemed that while Charlie asked questions by the dozen, her father figured things out pretty quickly.

  “Son, here’s what I have to say: I can take care of my girl, but you still treat her right. That means, no tears, no empty promises and no lying. Those fists of yours, the day you dare to lay one on her will be the day you die. Don’t speed, even when she asks you to get her home fast. I know how smooth college can be for a jock, but Charlie’s a special girl. Don’t play games with her, because then you’ll answer to me. I don’t have to ask whether you two are in a relationship, I could tell right off the bat, so even when you get so angry or so intoxicated, also remember off the bat, that you have a girlfriend. Don’t hurt her, are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, truly sincere. I hadn’t expected this conversation to take the turn that it had, but part of me wished my own father were like this. The other just wanted to record this grill session and inflict it on someone else’s son one day.

  “Now, do you have any questions?” he asked, and I stared at him. There was no sarcasm in his voice.

  “No, sir,” I said, clearing my throat.

  He politely dismissed me and I stood up to leave. I was halfway down their driveway when I impulsively turned and called out to him. “Excuse me, sir, but would you like to attend my game? I have a few extra tickets.”

  He smiled at me, “Sure, son. Have a good night.”

  “Alright, you too.” I responded, leaving their house.

  Basketball practice took over my life for the next few days, and I was either relishing every free second that I could see Charlie or trying not to kill Ron before our first game of the season. Since high school, we had been the Whitfield duo that every rival school worried about. We were so in sync with each other that we always knew that when the draft came, we would be a packaged deal. Even if we couldn’t go back to that point in our friendship, we needed to be that for the team. Ron just had to try not to give me reasons to hate him.

  “Hey, man” he said, sitting next to me during break. “About the other day-”

  I interrupted him, “Can we not talk about it? I just want to get this game over and done with.”

  He twisted open his water bottle and downed all the liquid, “Look, I know things are bad between us, but if you need somewhere to crash, my house is still available.”

  I resisted the urge to remind him of what had happened the last time I used his house as an escape from my parents’ drama. I needed to play my part in avoiding a fight with him, too.

  “I’m fine, Ron.” I said curtly.

  He stared up, away from me. “Alright, but if you aren’t, I’m glad you have your girl to go to.”

  I remained silent for what seemed like minutes before finally speaking, “Don’t touch her, Ron. I’m warning you.”

  He laughed quietly, “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  I stood up to leave, suddenly irked by his presence. His voice stopped me in my tracks, “Does she know?”

  I sighed in frustration, not knowing whether to trust him with the truth, “Know what?”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Why haven’t you told her?”

  I turned to him once more, “Mind your own goddamn business.”

&nb
sp; Walking out of the court, my mind was weighed heavily by his question. I hated having to think about it, especially when the only answer I could think about was that I could not tell her because I still blamed myself for what had happened to Cole. Maybe I always would. It was the worst of dilemmas, I couldn’t tell her about her Cole because I loved her and didn’t want her to leave and I hadn’t told her I loved her because I didn’t want that to be the chain that shackled her to me should she want to leave after I told her about Cole. Until I told her, I would try my hardest to make her happy. I wanted to give her something good to look back on. I took my phone out to send her a quick text.

  Just finished practice. I miss you, and you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long while. Goodnight, X.

  Charlie

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” my mother sang from the kitchen counter as I fetched ice cream bowls from the cabinet.

  “Hie, Mom,” I smiled.

  “When’s your boyfriend coming over for dinner?” she asked, slicing tomatoes. She had just handed over a manuscript to her editor, so we were getting a homecooked meal for lunch.

  “First tell me what your husband spoke to him about,” I returned, asking for the hundredth time since my dad met Xander, who was also not giving me anything concrete.

  She laughed, enjoying my curiosity. “I think you should speak to your father about that.”

  “I did, and he’s not saying anything, neither is Xander. If your husband terrorized him, I need to know,” I raised an eyebrow playfully, turning to take the bowls upstairs where my friends, Mel and I were getting ready for the game tonight.

  “When you don’t get your way, he becomes just my husband,” she teased.

  I shrugged a shoulder, turning to go upstairs and leaving her laughing in my wake. More laughter rang from my room, where Mel was grooming Lea’s eyebrows, after countless protests from Lea. I was done with getting ready, and the fact that my parents were somehow invited to the game was another issue which confused me. Yes, Xander had hit it off with my mom, but I’d assumed that my dad, being a psychologist, would see through the charm. Or maybe, my parents had seen what I saw in Xander, his funny, witty side. That was the theory I settled on.

  A few hours later, we were all standing outside the huge building that housed the basketball court, surrounded by people in the school colours cheering, talking and buying snacks. Cat had been right, the basketball crowd in Whitfield was more on the fashionable side. There was something about their very nature that was less unruly and more sophisticatedly showy. The lights in the parking lot were brightly lit, but the glimmer of clothing and make-up gave it a more official edge. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude for taking Cat’s advice and looking my best. My usually wild hair was in a high gelled up ponytail and the curled ends cascaded down my back. The chunky gold hoops at my ears had a matching necklace which I wore as a statement piece. I had yet to see Xander, and I just hoped he would be impressed. We got good seats, and Xander came over to greet my parents before the game.

  “All the best out there,” my mom said, pulling him in for a hug which he awkwardly returned.

  He hugged Mel and she giggled, their interaction warming my heart. “Watch out for the cheerleaders, soon you’ll be in this same court flexing.”

  I smiled at him when he came to me, pulling me away from my family and friends. “You nervous?” I asked him, remembering what Cat had said about him and not playing after his brother’s shooting.

  He laughed reassuringly, that wonderful sounding laugh that melted my insides. “No, baby. This is my stage, my canvas. I feel like I’ve returned home.”

  “Still,” I said, smiling up at him, “Be careful out there.”

  He took my hands in his, holding them up between our faces, “Why? Are you worried?”

  I widened my eyes teasingly, “Of course I’m worried! You’re the only boyfriend I have.”

  “Tsk, I’m the only boyfriend you need. Don’t talk to any other guy while I’m playing, you’ll distract me.” He blinked down at me.

  “You’re going to win, Alexander.” I said, smoothing down his dark hair which was tied back.

  “So I’m Alexander now?” he asked, wiggling his brows in confusion.

  “Yes, but like Alexander the Great,” I said, grinning at him.

  “Alexander the Great,” he repeated, “I like it.”

  I looked away shyly, hoping my parents weren’t seeing me being turned to mush. He tipped my chin up at him, “If it was just you and I in this room, I’d kiss you right now. But I don’t want your father mangling me before I can play. Still, I just want you to know that you look beautiful tonight, as always.”

  “Thank you, and you can kiss me all you want after the game,” I beamed.

  A shadow crossed his face at the reminder of the conversation he’d promised we would have after his game. I had suggested that we have it tomorrow, seeing as he would be celebrating or resting, but his insistence on talking about it tonight made me think he wanted to do it before he could talk himself out of it. I loved him all the more for being prepared to come clean with something which still clearly haunted him. Yes, I loved him, and whatever he had to say tonight wouldn’t change that.

  “Go conquer, my beloved Alexander,” I smiled.

  He chuckled happily, “Oh baby, I will.”

  Someone hollered his name and he had to go, but it wasn’t before he looked around for my parents, and seeing them preoccupied, drew me in for a quick, scorching kiss. He ran to the locker room amid screams and cheers over our kiss, which people had evidently witnessed. He emerged half an hour later with his team, ready to play. My eyes never left him, just like the effects of his kiss still lingered in my head. They won the game by a hundred at ten to eighty-five, and the arena exploded. My eyes were still on him.

  Xander

  Midnight. That was the time I had until Charlie had to be back home, which meant I had to fit my entire life, specifically the last one year, into three hours. My palms were sweating, and I could only ever recall being this nervous once. The fourteen hours I sat in the waiting room after the shooting. Even while I drove her to the hotel where my family had a reserved suite for business guests, I wasn’t sure whether or not to tell her the full story. Both my parents were likely home after choosing not to attend my game, and Aunt Bailey’s partner was sleeping over. So, I couldn’t go to her house.

  “Where are we going,” the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen asked from the passenger seat.

  I flexed my knuckles on the steering wheel, hoping she hadn’t said anything else while I was distracted. “The Hillcrest Hotel.”

  She stared in confusion, and I tried to clear it up, “I-we have a reserved suite, and I can’t take you to my house because my dad’s around.”

  She didn’t ask anything else, and her noticeable relief at avoiding my father made me fear she would soon feel the same way about me. We drove in silence until we got to the hotel, where the lady from reception looked at us curiously, but probably decided to mind her own business. I wasn’t a stranger to this place, and it pained me to remember the Sunday afternoons my family had spent here during happier times.

  We checked in and I took Charlie’s hand in mine, simply wanting to touch her before the avalanche I was about to let loose on our relationship. The moment I closed the door behind us, I pulled her towards me and hugged her fiercely.

  She held me tighter, conveying through her embrace support even though she had no idea what I was going to say. “It’s okay, baby.”

  Baby. The endearment squeezed at my chest, where the fear of never hearing it after tonight was lodged. I held her hand and led her to the lounge, choosing to sit her opposite me. I suddenly felt repulsed by myself before I even told her, and the idea that she would have that same feeling almost broke my resolve. She frowned when I went over to sit on the opposite side of the table, and I was more surprised when she stood up and came to sit right next to me.

 
“Charlie,” I said, hating myself for it. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is for me.”

  She wrapped her arms around me fiercely, letting me know she wasn’t going to let go. “If it’s so hard for you to say, then I don’t want to hear it.”

  “No, I need to tell you. Otherwise you’re just in a relationship with me because you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.”

  She frowned, “I’m with you because I want to be with you, Xander. You might have a hard time accepting that, but for me, it’s as simple as feeling so much happier every time you’re with me.”

  I shook my head, wanting her to stop, needing her to continue and desperate for her to mean every word of it. “Charlie, don’t say that. You’re saying all the right things, but I don’t want you to regret having said them to the wrong guy.”

  “You’re the right guy. You’ll always be the right guy for me, Xander. And no matter what you tell me, I’ll still lov-” she caught herself, bringing her hand to her dark, beautiful lips, with her big brown eyes widening in shock.

  I seized her hand and said vehemently, “I love you, Charlotte Grace Welman-Cane. I love you so much that this is so hard for me.”

  She blinked up in surprise, tears glistening in her eyes. “And I love you too, Alexander Hastings-Turner. And if whatever you have to confess to me will shake us, remember that when it settles down, I’ll still feel the same way about you.”

  We had said the words, and I was about to ruin that milestone with a revelation. I had never told a girl that I loved her, probably because I had never loved any other girl. As I looked at her, all the other girls became nameless faces, then faceless hook-ups.

  God save me. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start from wherever will make me understand and tell me everything. No holding back,” she encouraged, brushing my hair out of my face.

  “I-I have a brother.” I started, “His name’s Cole, and he’s the best kid you’ll ever meet.”