by Shyla Colt
“You okay?” I ask as we climb the steps to her porch.
“That’s a tough question to answer. I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly be all right again. If you’re worried about me falling apart, don’t. I’ve got a handle on it now. I’m solid.”
I flash her a skeptical look.
“Ish. I’m solid-ish. Last year I was still shell-shocked. This year, I’m just sad. I miss him. With that initial blown worn away, the permanence has settled in. It gets harder with every important moment I experience.” Her voice warbles.
I pull her into a hug. She rests her head on my chest, and I tighten my hold.
“He should be here. I can hardly think because my head is full of all the things he’s going to miss,” she says softly. I run my hand up her back and massage the tension from her neck. I kiss her crown. “It’s the bleakness I hate most. It stretches out like an abyss.”
I rest my head on top of hers. “Today is a bad day. We knew it would be. That doesn’t negate all the good days we’ve had.” I rock her back and forth, as she melts into me.
“You listening?” I ask. Her response is muffled by my chest. I lean back, sink my fingers into her hair, and tug lightly, forcing her head back so I can meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft by the porch light. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s get you inside so you can crash and sleep this off.”
“Pshh. I’m buzzed not drunk. You think I’m a lightweight?” Her slight pout makes me chuckle.
“’Course not.”
Her spine stiffens. “With my B.M.I and the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed thus far, I could ingest at least two more drinks before I reach the level of intoxication you’re insinuating.”
“You’re so cute when you sling those big words and scientific facts about during a debate. Keys.” I hold my hands out as she rummages in her purse, muttering. She plops them in my hand.
“You don’t believe me?” Her chin tilts up in challenge.
I smirk. “I didn’t say that.”
She sniffs. “Well, you didn’t have to. Not with that tone.”
“What tone?” I push the door open and guide her inside.
“The one that says while you may be humoring me, you don’t actually believe a word I say.”
I scan the darkened house. It’s nearly two in the morning. I can see her mother curled up under blankets on the couch. A small garbage can and a box of tissues tell the story of how her night went.
Steering Noble through the living room and down the hallway, I respond quietly, “This is my ‘I know better than to argue with such an intelligent woman when she feels so strongly about a topic’ voice.”
“And now you’re buttering me up,” she says, clearly unimpressed.
“Maybe. Is it working?” I ask as we stop in front of her door.
Her lips twitch up. Her mother left the light in the bathroom on for her to see by. The light spilling out highlights her tired face. “Possibly. You’re always so good to me, Zeke.” She sighs. “It makes things difficult.”
I frown as I open her door and flip on the light. “I’m not following you, No.”
“To remember what we have is platonic.”
Her words are a sucker punch to the gut. I feel like she’s knocked the wind out of me as I peer down. I suck in a breath. “Is that a bad thing?” I ask cautiously.
She tilts her head and gives me an appraising once-over. “I’ve been asking myself that very question for months.”
Months?
“And what have you come up with?”
“The jury is still out. I’m not sure trying to figure things out will be worth the risk of ruining what we have.”
“Do I get a say?” My restraint it threadbare at best. Knowing she’s interested has me ready to push the boundaries I swore to keep.
“Did you want one?”
The open curiosity in her eyes breaks me. I walk her backward until her back hits the door, and place an arm on either side of her body, boxing her in. I press my lower body to hers, and she whimpers. The sound of pleasure goes straight through my body and settles in the organ rapidly filling with blood. I move closer until I can see the flecks of gold in her brown irises. Our lips are millimeters apart. “Do you want this, Noble?”
She nods her head.
“I need to hear it.”
Her eyes dilate. “I want it, Zeke.”
I trace her lips with the tip of my tongue. The sweet flavor dances on my taste buds. I moan.
“How can you taste like chocolate?”
“S’mores lip-gloss.”
I suck her full bottom lip into my mouth and release it with a pop. “Delicious.” I continue to lick, nibble, and tease. Her lips part in silent invitation. “You want more, baby?”
“Yes, please.” The submissive response has me straining against my jeans. I thrust my tongue into her wet mouth and grind my bulge against her. She opens her legs wider, and I sink between her thick thighs. Her heat sears me through the layers of denim. She tentatively responds, curling her tongue around my own while she explores my mouth in return. I squeeze her hips as we part to breathe.
I rest my forehead against her and leash the beast inside of me chomping at the bit to get out. “Not like this. I need you sober.”
Her shoulders slump.
“Right now you’re raw and vulnerable, baby. I won’t be the bastard who takes advantage of that.”
She looks down. Grabbing her chin, I tilt her head up.
“Don’t think it’s about lack of wanting. I need you to have a clear head. ’Cause once I have you there’s no letting go.” Her eyes widen. “You’re not the only one who’s wondered if we should try for more. So, I need you to think about it. Okay, baby?”
She swallows hard. I run my thumb across her jawline.
“Okay.”
“I need to go now before we rush into things you’re not ready for. You good?” I study her carefully.
“Yes.”
I kiss her forehead and step back. The ball’s in her court now.
Chapter Two
Noble
“How was last night?” my mother asks over her mug.
“It was nice, Ma. Nothing like last year, other than the familiar faces. We celebrated his life and told a lot of hilarious stories. I think Jovan would’ve approved. I felt his spirit in Pat’s.”
She gives me a watery smile.
“How are you?” I study her red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Faint dark circles speak of her lack of fitful sleep.
“I’m dealing. There are times when a mother needs to grieve on her own. Perhaps next year I’ll be ready.”
“I can respect that, but I think it’d be good for you. Hearing about him through the eyes of others was a special experience. Plus, I don’t like the thought of you here alone.” I shake my head.
Smiling, she pats my hand. “How did I manage to hit the jackpot with both of my children?”
“We’re the people we are because of you, Mom.”
“Thank you, baby.”
We pick at the waffles and finish our coffee.
“I’ll be ready to leave here in about thirty minutes. We have to pick up the wreath from the flower shop and then we can head to the graveyard.”
“I’ll be ready. You go, I’ll do the dishes this morning.” I wave her away.
She gives me a thankful smile before she walks away. My reasons for lingering here are selfish. My head is full today with thoughts of Jovan and Zeke. Alcohol loosened my tongue last night, and I discovered more than I bargained for. Being alone in my adoration kept things simple. I could admire him from afar, and let the fear of ruining our friendship to remain complacent. All that’s over now. He kissed me like a man in a desert who’d found water. His commanding voice and questing hands followed me into my dreams. I tossed and turned, unable to rest as my body hummed with unfulfilled desires.
I scrape the leftover food off the plates into the garbage can, and shuf
fle to the sink, on autopilot. Where does last night leave Zeke and me? What did he mean about not letting me go? There’s a dominant streak in him I hadn’t anticipated. Laid-back, funny, and playful, I never imagined him in that light. I like it more than I should. The thought of letting go and handing over the reins to someone I trust implicitly is heaven on earth.
My job is demanding, my work hours are long, and being the head of the family is another burden. Combined, they all take their toll. I close my eyes. What Zeke offers is tempting. How can I pass on it? It’s been a long time since I was intimate with anyone. That’s part of the problem. With him, things could never be casual. Loving him would be setting myself up for complete devastation. As it stands, I worry about him. If I lost him, it would hurt, but I could manage. If we entered into a relationship, I’d never get over it. Losing one man I loved to this job was enough. Setting myself up for a second loss would be insanity. Wouldn’t it?
The sound of water spilling over the sink brings me back to the present. I turn off the water and scramble to move the plates blocking the drain. I won’t be finding answers today, and I still need to get dressed. I set the dilemma aside, finish the dishes, and hurry to my room. A quick ten-minute shower works wonders for clearing my muddled head. Toweling dry, I slip into a pair of black slacks and a cowl neck white sweater.
I slip on the angel pin Jovan purchased me one Christmas and declare myself ready. My mother appears to have aged in the past thirty minutes. Shoulders hunched, face drawn, and spirit defeated, she’s an emaciated version of her usual self. I can see every pound lost in her thin frame, bony fingers, and sharp cheekbones. Fear seizes my heart. I cannot lose her, too. I walk over and embrace her, willing my strength to enter her body and fortify her for what’s to come. We part and I take the keys from her loose grasp.
“I’ll drive.”
When we pick up the wreath from the florist, seeing my brother’s name and station number written across the startling crimson and white blooms is a massive blow. The air grows thin, and the mood is somber. The rest of the car ride is silent. I enter the open gates and drive to toward the center of the cemetery where he’s buried.
I park on the side of the dirt lane, relieve my mom of the flower, wire bundle, and follow her up the hill. I hate seeing the stone slab. I know he’s not there really. His spirit has ascended elsewhere, but his earthly remains are six feet deep beneath the cold ground, serving as a sharp reminder of the fact that I’ll never again see him again in this lifetime. It’s too much to stomach. Nausea hits as I kneel and place the wreath behind the stone.
“Can I have a few minutes with him?” Mom whispers.
“Yeah, Ma. I’ll take a little walk.”
I pop the collar on my red pea coat to keep out the wind, and shove my hands in my pants pockets. Retracing my steps, I walk among the rows of headstones that reaffirm how fleeting life is. The age ranges, names and styles vary. Few if any saw death coming for them. Is it a reason to guard yourself against potential pain, or live your life as if every day could be your last? I don’t have the answer to that complicated question. It doesn’t sit well with me.
I like order. Facts, numbers, equations, and certainty keep my anxiety down and make me feel in control of my life. After fifteen minutes, I double back. I find Mom wiping away tears, and working her way through the last of her sobs. She clears her throat.
“Your turn. I’m going to wait in the car until you’re finished, and then we’ll say good-bye together.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper. I can’t imagine the level of pain she must be experiencing. It’s unnatural for a parent to bury a child.
I turn to face the grave.
“It’s still weird to not have you around. I look for you at every holiday, and I try to call you when I get big news. I know you died doing what you loved. But part of me hates your job for taking you away.” My voice cracks. “I got myself in a real pickle with Zeke. I’m sure you’ve seen it coming. You were always observant, and now you have the whole infinite time and space thing on your side in heaven. I know that’s where you are because you were too good of a person not to be.” I let the tears trail down my face unchecked. I’m due for a purge of emotion. I spent all of last night holding it together. “I like Zeke a lot. It wouldn’t take much to love him and be happy. But what if he gets hurt or worse?” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do here. I’d like to think you approve. You used to say no one was good enough for me, but surely your best friend would fit the bill.” I laugh. “I’m a mess, and I hate it. It reminds me too much of the way things were when Pop was around. We never knew if we’d be able to pay rent, or eat because he gambled the money away as quickly as he got it. The fighting was nonstop, too. I was young, but it left a lasting impression. It shaped me. I understand why I am the way I am. But, right now, I wish I had the ability to be more like you. I always envied your ability to throw yourself into things. You leapt before you looked, and you wrung every drop out of life you could. I never. how you could live so recklessly. You weren’t stupid about your risks, but you took them nonetheless.” I shake my head.
I’m flooded by the scent of woody cologne. Closing my eyes, I bask in his presence. “I’m imagining you’re telling me to go for it right now, big brother. I’m not built like you. I’m a coward who prefers the farce of control to the feeling of falling that accompanies true freedom and leaving things to chance.” I feel a phantom hug. “You love me anyway, huh?” I take a moment to be before I return to the car to get my mother so we can say our final good-byes for the day.
***
“Are you ready for this afternoon?” Zeke asks as he grabs my duffle bag.
“I think so. It’s been ages since I played soccer, so keep your expectations low.”
He chuckles. “You’re so competitive. It’s just a friendly game.”
“No, it’s not. It never is with you guys. I think all firefighters have an extra dose of testosterone.”
“How did you come about this hypothesis?” he questions.
I punch his arm lightly. “Shut up.”
He laughs. I expected it to be awkward between us, but it’s not. True to his word, he’s giving me the time to think things over. He knows me well enough to understand I don’t make uninformed or rushed decisions. Unfortunately, this situation isn’t going to be helped by a simple pros and cons list. There are too many variables. It could easily be the worst or best thing I ever do or don’t do. Even trying to think about it now threatens to give me a headache.
“Stop.”
“Huh?” I turn to him.
“Stop thinking. This is supposed to be fun. A chance to take a break and relax.”
“My brain is not so easily halted.”
“Trust me, I’ve come to realize that.”
Tucking my legs under my body, I lean against the window.
“How was your day?” He changes the subject.
“Long. We’re running new trials on an allergy medication that’s been developed. It’s blah city. You know how repetitive those can get.” I roll my eyes.
“I do. How long have you been working on it?”
“About three months now. I enjoy my job, but there are times when I wish I got to work on more grassroots things like I always dreamed of in college.”
“Clarify for the laymen.” He flashes me a smile.
“I’d like to be involved in the more academic side of things. Possibly work for a college. That way I’ll be doing research projects, or help students with their own capstone projects.”
“And a capstone project is what exactly?” The interests in his voice pleases me.
“Think of it as a thesis.”
“That could be really interesting. Why don’t you start looking into it?”
I shake my head. “I’ve only been at my job for a year, and the benefits and pay are decent. It feels almost foolish to look elsewhere for a position that would require a significant pay cut. Especially when I’m thinking
of house hunting in the future.”
“It’s never foolish to follow your dreams. Life is more than crunching numbers, and playing it safe. You can plan everything down to the last detail, and it can all change in the blink of an eye. I know you like to play it safe, Noble, but I’m urging you to follow this. There’s more passion in your voice dreaming of this new position than I’ve heard you have your entire employment at your current company. I can’t speak to your bank account, but I know what chemical engineers make and how skilled you are at saving and budgeting. You’ll be fine buying a house whatever way you decide to go.”
“Do you really believe that?” I ask.
He snickers. “Honey, I know that. You need to give yourself more credit.”
He pats my knee, setting me ablaze on the inside without trying. I search him for signs of desire. It’s like the passionate man from that night is gone. A twinge of disappointment settles in my gut.
“What?” he questions.
“Nothing.”
“Mmmm hmmm.”
I force myself to look out the windows at the scenery going by.
“You know if you want something you’re going to have to ask.” His voice has taken on the silken quality that turns my bones liquid. “I told you to think about what you wanted. Do you have an answer for me yet?”
“I-I don’t.”
“Still uncertain?” He runs his hand up from my knee to the top of my thigh. “Shame.”
I watch his hand, unable to move, as my panties grow damp.
“Because I’d love to show you all the things I’ve been thinking about.”
“You’ve been thinking about?” I ask dazedly. He moves higher, brushing my inner thigh through my tights. “Zeke.” The needy moan is embarrassing.
“Yes, Noble?” he says innocently.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you what you have to look forward to with me.”
“Oh.” The moan is out before I can stop. It’s been a few years since I felt a hand other than my own.
His knuckles brush against the apex of my thighs and my crotch. I twitch.
