by Shane Morgan
“Why don’t you go clean up before dinner,” Dad said, finally entering the house.
Mom looked at him with despair in her pale blue eyes, and I sensed the tension between the two.
“What were you doing?” she asked him as I followed orders, walking up the stairs to my room.
Dad staggered back a bit, then motioned for the living room as he answered, “I was getting some papers out the car.” His tone sounded more like he wanted to say ‘here we go again’.
“Of course,” Mom snorted, following him to the living room.
Their voices became muffled as I finally got to my bedroom, closing out the war of words that was certainly happening between the two.
My parents were definitely at odds, ever since I got sick last year. Dad became fed up with Mom for working too much. Then once she stopped it was the other way around.
That’s why I hated coming home on weekends. It was quieter staying in the dorm and having less drama, than going home to quarrels and having to lie in bed, glancing at the blank spots on my bedroom wall where posters of my favorite hockey players used to be. And after I had the MRI this morning, it was only going to get more intense. The results weren’t very good.
For dinner, Mom made sure I had all the organic veggies anyone could eat.
Dad grumbled, “Jeez, will you feed him some meat at least?”
Mom retaliated with, “Well, you cook sometime then.”
The conversation around the table was mainly about my health and what they were going to do to fix me, especially since I was going to need surgery again, despite Doctor Henderson’s previous reassurance that I wouldn’t have to.
Dad never said much about it or anything directly to me. His final words before getting up from the table were, “Don’t worry about it, Branden. It’ll all be taken care of.” He was only referring to the money he’d have to spend.
That night, my chest ached intolerably. I took all the medication prescribed. Nothing eased the pain. Sometimes it hurt so bad I’d end up in tears, and even start praying.
My mind drifted to Moya and momentarily, I started to ignore the agony as I kept my thoughts only on her. I wondered if she’d ever stop being afraid, if she’d ever give me a chance. How great it would’ve been if I’d spent another night at the river watching fireflies with her. How I wanted to see her now, to have her curl up in my arms and feel her warmth. To feel the intensity run through my body again as I touched her hand. The look on her face assured me she felt it too.
It wasn’t fair. That I’d have to force myself to stop thinking about her, stop desiring to be with her. After this morning, being with Moya was providing to be even more impossible than fighting to break down her walls. Perhaps it was a good thing she kept them up till now. Subconsciously knowing, I’d only hurt her in the end when it was time for me to leave.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Moya
Saturday evening, I went for a walk around town alone, relaxing in the easygoing atmosphere of the strip near my neighborhood. Momma was working the night shift at Thompson’s and Nessa was having dinner with Calvin. I didn’t want to stay in the house a second longer, so I figured the night air would be great.
I had failed miserably at keeping Branden off my mind. I kept thinking about him more since I saw his face by the parking lot, how exhausted he seemed, and of course, when he placed his hand on mine at the campus café. Branden left a mark on me that followed me to Berlin Heights.
I wondered how he was doing, what he was doing, why he never seemed to go home for weekends even though he lived in Harrington, and why he was so sad at times. I even thought of what would’ve happened if Vanessa hadn’t sent me a text. How far would these feelings have led me?
Argh, I shook my curls in frustration. I was so entangled in all things Branden that it was practically like I was going in slow motion while everyone moved rapidly by me on the sidewalk.
The night air wasn’t helping at all.
I decided to get French Vanilla ice cream and pig out at home while watching movies. That would distract my thoughts long enough to forget altogether.
As I turned the corner to enter the store, I glimpsed someone looking a lot like Branden leaving the Italian restaurant across the street.
“Branden,” I whispered his name, discerning I had to have imagined him. That I wished to see him so badly, I was hallucinating now. Then, I heard his voice, that deep and comforting voice that shook me on the inside and I knew it was really him.
Impulsively, I darted across the street, not caring about the cars that had to stomp on their brakes suddenly to avoid hitting me. Good Lord. Before leaving Berlin Heights for college, I was hell bent on not letting anyone in. Now, there I was, almost getting killed chasing after a guy I was starting to like.
Finally I reached him, heading to the parking lot with three other people. I called his name, “Branden!”
He turned, and a sudden spark went off in my chest. Branden’s blue eyes expanded with delight as he realized it was me. “Moya.”
I panted, trying to steady my heart. What did my abrupt gesture mean? I’d spent the last few days trying to avoid him in school yet being so close to him at the café on Friday and seeing Branden tonight had me in frenzy.
The older version of Branden cleared his throat and the classy woman standing beside him asked, “Who is this young lady?”
I scanned their faces carefully and concluded that it must’ve been his family. Branden’s dad had a stern, no nonsense look on his face. Observing him, I saw where Branden got his striking features and admirable height. Unlike his wife, who had healthy and shiny looking golden blond hair, Branden’s dad had salt and pepper like black hair.
“Oh, sorry, this is my friend from school, Moya,” Branden introduced. “Moya, this is my mom, Debbie, my dad Scott, and my brother, Ashton.”
They each lifted a hand to shake mine. I was happy they seemed nice, only a little disappointed Branden referred to me as his friend. It ruined the reason why I was chasing after him to begin with.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, focusing on Branden as I asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you lived in Harrington?”
He explained, “Ash is a wide receiver on Jones College football team. He had a game out here so we came to support him.”
Ashton chimed in. “How come I’ve never seen a pretty girl like you before? Branden’s been keeping you all to himself.”
I gushed. He was quite the smooth talker.
Branden jabbed a playful elbow in Ashton’s side, his amused chortle a surprising contrast to the awkward glances of their parents. Their body language seemed odd, as if they wanted to leave right away.
His mother touched his arm lightly. “Branden, it’s getting late and your father has to drive back in the morning.”
Branden glanced at them, and then looked at me with a frustrated look on his face. He didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.
“I’ll take a taxi back to the Inn. You guys go on without me.” Yes. That was music to my ears.
His parents exchanged worried stares between each other. Ashton was grinning broadly.
Then Mr. McCarthy took his keys out of his pockets and nudged Mrs. McCarthy along, “Well, I guess it’s okay. We’ll see you back there then.” He nodded in my direction. “It was nice meeting you, Moya.”
Mrs. McCarthy gave me a glance over with suspicion in her pale blue eyes. She said nothing, turning to stroll off behind her husband.
“You kids have fun,” Ashton smiled cunningly. He whispered something to Branden and squeezed his shoulder before hurrying off to the car.
Branden and I stood quietly as his family drove off. Now that I was categorized as a friend, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him. Though, I partially caused that on myself for pushing him away so much.
“So, this is your turf, where do you wanna go?” he finally broke the silence.
I shrugged, peering around us.
“Um, there’s a little park over there. Maybe we could sit for a while?”
He allowed me to lead the way, falling in step beside me.
When we got to the park and sat on one of the benches, I resisted the stimulating effect of Branden’s spicy and masculine scent, not letting the intensity of the lavender and musk get the best of me. “So,” I searched my head for something to say, playing with my hands and keeping my eyes away from his.
“So,” Branden repeated, “you seemed a bit out of breath before, were you running to catch up with me?” he teased. Damn him for noticing.
I shook my head. “No, um, actually I run on weekends, during the…evenings…as in for exercise.”
Branden smirked, picking up on my obvious lie. “Oh really?” he said. “That’s interesting, because I’ve never seen someone run in such stylish attire.”
I stayed mum.
He hung over and cracked his knuckles while gazing at me. “I’m glad I’m here with you tonight, Moya. I really wanted to see you.”
I gulped. Forget not wanting to let myself go. It had to be now. I had to tell him how he was making me feel. “Branden, I…” I couldn’t find the courage to say it.
He sat up and waited patiently. When I wouldn’t continue, Branden shifted closer to me and cupped my hands into his. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m all right sitting next to you like this. It’s comforting.”
I didn’t pull away. No matter how his touch bubbled my heart.
Branden really was going to sit in silence with me, though, possibly afraid he might say something to send me running. I wanted to change that. “Tell me something…” I muttered, incapable of removing the sudden shyness in my voice, “Anything…about yourself.”
Still holding my hand, the corner of his mouth slightly curled into a half smile as he sat up straight and took a breath, staring at me intensely as he began, “Okay, let’s see. I like jazz and blues. My favorite color is green, and fall is my favorite season.”
Playing with my fingers, he continued in a more seductive tone, “Aside from those little things, Moya, more importantly, I love your curly hair, your big, beautiful brown eyes. That flare of yours, the way you smile for me even when you’re fighting hard not to, and how protective you are of your heart. It’s understandable.”
I couldn’t help release a titter. “You’re so…honest. You have no fear, saying how you feel.”
“Well, I might be straightforward at times but I am a nice guy.” Branden laughed a bit before adding, “At least, I hope you’ve realized that by now.”
I nodded. Then, glancing away from his penetrating gaze, I whispered, “I can see that.”
Branden released my hand and moved closer beside me on the bench. “What are you so afraid of? Has someone hurt you before?” he asked with great concern.
I looked up at him suddenly, taken off-guard by his question. There was a feeling deep inside my heart, telling me it was safe to open up to him. “I was,” my voice came out almost inaudible. “I…um…”
With patient eyes, Branden stared at me, listening keenly for what I was trying to say. I couldn’t. The trust I found myself developing for him just wasn’t deep enough to share the part of me that I kept hidden. The hurt I kept buried.
Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t.”
Branden nodded, showing me that he understood I still needed time.
We didn’t utter another word to each other up until Branden left me at my house and took the taxi back to the Inn where his family was spending the night. Not sure what, but it felt like more of me had come undone for him. There was definitely something growing between us.
***
Light flickered through the window from the living room as I entered my house. Momma was home from work. She liked watching television in the dark.
“Moya?” she called out the second I walked through the front door.
“Yeah, Momma, it’s me,” I replied, gliding into the room to sit down on the crimson sofa beside her.
“Hey, baby girl,” she greeted me, rubbing my arm as I placed one of the yellow-orange, striped accent pillows on my lap.
Slipping off my shoes, I settled my bare feet on the warm carpet and made myself more comfortable. “How was work?” I asked,
Momma brushed back my curls as she said softly, “Not bad. It was a good day. Went out with Nessa?” she asked.
I kept my eyes away from hers and on the television, where she was watching an episode of Scandal. I didn’t want to tell her about Branden. There wasn’t anything to tell. Not yet. Not until I sorted out whatever it was that I’d suddenly started to feel for him.
“No,” I said, glancing back at her. “Just went out for a walk by myself.”
Momma leaned her head while regarding me with concern in her eyes. She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Is there something bothering you?” she asked. “People usually go for walks when they have a lot on their minds.”
I smiled to reassure her. “No. There’s nothing. I just needed some air.”
She relaxed her gaze on me then, gracing me with the heartwarming smile I loved so much. “Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here, baby girl.”
I nodded in a way to say ‘I know’.
Getting even more at home, I sat cross-legged on the sofa as I watched the rest of the show with Momma.
It went to commercial break, and immediately Branden popped up in my head. I wondered why he hadn’t asked for my number yet. Then again, I hadn’t exactly indicated to Branden I’d want to give him my number, when I’ve been so apprehensive about going on a date much less. Still, he seemed so troubled tonight. Something was obviously bothering him. Argh, why was I doing this again? Why couldn’t I snap out of it?
I should clarify my feelings. I needed to.
Scandal came back on and I zapped out of my thoughts. Then, I noticed Momma glancing back and forth from the television to me, almost like she wanted to say something. After hearing an exhausted sigh and seeing how her body tensed up, I had to ask, “Is everything all right, Momma?”
She quivered, surprised. “Of course, everything’s fine.” Her enthusiasm wasn’t natural. If anything it seemed like she was forcing to appear cheerful when she really wasn’t.
Momma got up, tightened her head wrap and made sure her long curls were all tucked in. “I’m tired, baby. I’m going to bed.”
“You’re not going to finish watching the show?” I asked, giving her a quizzical look.
Momma lowered and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ve already seen the episode.” She stroked my cheek then headed out of the room.
I watched her turn down the hall somewhat in a hurried manner. Her body seemed burdened. It could be she was only tired from years of working so hard—Lord knows Momma worked hard. But something was off. Like, she was keeping secrets, from me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Branden
After dinner on Sunday, Ashton and I decided to shoot hoops out back, especially since Mom had to run out to the store and wouldn’t be there to stop us.
Ashton was the more skilled player, anyway. He could dribble much better than me and even dunk!
“So, who was that girl, really? It was, ah, Moya, right?” he asked. It would be a matter of time before they’d start asking about her.
“A friend.” I left it at that as he prevented me from passing him with the ball.
Eventually, he got it from my hands.
“Sure, little brother. That’s what you said last night. I get the feeling there’s something else between you two, though.” He could read me like a book.
I stopped to take a breath, sitting on the bench at the side of the court. “I know, but, I can’t. I can’t do that to her.”
Ashton bounced the ball while waiting for me to recover and I thought back to last night, seeing Moya. I noticed the look in her eyes when she hurried over to stop me from leaving. Moya liked me. She definitely did, and was probably going to say it last night. Would
she still want to be with me if she found out my secret?
I shot to my feet and began to hassle Ashton for the ball to change the topic.
A loud shriek drew us to a halt. “What are you two doing? Ashton, you know he’s not supposed to get this worked up.”
Mom rushed over toward us.
“Hey, Mom,” Ashton said, a sincerity in his tone that belied his light grin. He bounced the ball against the ground, the loud sound drawing her worried gaze from me and pinning it on him. “Come on. Ease up a little,” he added. “I’m not going to push him too hard. It’s just a little fun.”
She shook her head and took the ball out his hands. “Branden can’t run around playing sports the way you do, Ashton. That’s why he gave up hockey, remember?” she scowled.
I held my hands up as I reminded her, “Branden’s standing right here, okay.” I didn’t stop there. Her behavior had been driving me up the wall. “You know, Mom, I can speak for myself and say when I’m tired, when I’m hungry, and when I’m sick, all right. So stop treating me like I’m ten.”
“Are you finished?” Dad yelled out at me, aggressively closing the sliding doors to the kitchen as he marched over to the basketball court. “Because let me tell you something, Branden, I’m sick of all that’s going on, too. You’re not the only one going through it. This damn atmosphere is suffocating me—”
“Oh stop,” Mom snapped. Her pitch heightened as she scolded Dad, still clutching the ball. “What do you mean ‘not the only one going through it’?” She widened her eyes with amazement as she asked, “What are you going through? You’re not at any of the hospital sessions or sitting in the room as they examine him over and over and take blood after blood. Then they prescribe all these damn drugs that have no effect on his illness except make it worse. So please, spare us this sudden need to express how you feel, Scott, because, frankly, I don’t think you even have the right to say anything.”
