Liberating Mr. Gable

by Tuesday Embers

  Anson stood at the side of the bed next to her, rubbing her back in soothing, nonsexual ways to ease her coming down from their bliss. “Take a minute before you go out there.”

  Etta paled, looking as though she might be sick. When he thought it might be best to give her a moment alone, Etta’s hand shot out and clutched onto his. “All that stuff you said before about wanting to stick around and see how it all works out? Is that still true?”

  Anson squeezed her hand and crouched in front of her, leaning forward so she could accurately judge his sincerity. “Please let me stay.”

  Etta nodded, unable to manage even the weakest of smiles, despite the butterflies that swarmed in her belly at his petition to be near her. “Okay. I’d like that.” She swallowed hard. “If you’re staying, then you should probably face the music out there with me. I don’t want to explain you away or let them think I don’t care about you. They’re my people, and now, so are you. If you want to be, that is.”

  Anson nodded, grasping the gravity of her decision. He felt the need to be honest, so she knew what she was getting herself into, and could take or leave him with his neurosis. “Etta, I’m not great in social situations. I might clam up out there and turn back into the freak you adore.” He shook his head. “I’ll be with you, but I might not be able to be me.” He leaned forward and exhaled out his frustration as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be anyone for me,” she assured him. “I’m not ashamed of you, so you don’t need to be, either.”

  Fingers linked, the two opened the bedroom door and walked to the living room.

  Facing Cooper’s Music

  Etta did her best to keep her head high and voice level as she greeted Cooper and Jamie.

  “We just came by to hang out. Thought we’d start the snowmobile race at your house, since it’s higher up the mountain,” Jamie explained, chagrinned.

  “That’s fine. Any other time would have been great. You just caught me in a… private moment.” She looked to Cooper, who was busy brooding in the armchair.

  “Head on home, Jamie,” Cooper instructed. “I’ll meet you back there in a bit. I need to talk to Etta.”

  “Okay.” Jamie looked from Etta to Cooper, and was grateful for the opportunity to escape the brewing storm. “Sorry for barging in, Etta. Really didn’t know you’d be doing… that. I mean, him.”

  “Goodnight, Jamie.” Etta’s tone was sharp, and she did not turn her head to look at her friend as he left. “Coop, maybe you should go home, too.”

  “Like hell, I will!” Cooper roared as soon as the door shut his younger cousin out. “I’d like to know what you think you’re doing!”

  Etta could feel Anson’s tension, and wished Cooper would not shout. She ran her thumb over the back of Anson’s hand to soothe him, keeping her volume low. “You saw exactly what we were doing. Did you want a play-by-play?”

  Cooper grimaced. “Real cute. So this is what you’ve been up to? Your first renter since the incident, and you’re giving it up to him? Do you think it’s maybe a little too soon for a fling?”

  “Too soon? I’m twenty-seven! And we were kissing, not that it’s any of your business. And who said it was a fling?”

  Instead of arguing, Cooper’s fury melted into a cruel laugh. “Oh, Etta. You are naïve. I always just thought it was sweet, the way you are. But this? You’re just asking to be taken advantage of! He’s using you for free rent and unlimited sex.” He shook his head at her in disgust.

  “You shut up!” she bellowed. Etta released Anson’s hand and lunged toward her best friend.

  Anson’s arms went around her, holding her back from attacking Cooper with her cocked fist. “Etta, calm down. He’s just upset. Don’t let him get to you.” When he felt her unclench in his grip, his hold mutated into an embrace. He lifted his head to look into Cooper’s glare, and he was surprised that he was able to think clearly, despite his creeping anxiety. “I’m renting a room from her as soon as I can get back down to the office and set something up with Vera.” His chest heaved and his fingers tingled – a sure sign that his boldness would not last long. It was only due to Etta’s close proximity that he had not retreated to his former self upon Cooper’s initial discovery of them. “Now, go home and leave her alone. She’ll call you in the morning.”

  “No, I won’t!” Etta shouted. “You had no right to come over here, barge in and just expect me to entertain you. It’s my house now! Call first! I’ve got a business to run!”

  “This? This is your business? Well, I hope he’s paying you top dollar. If that’s how you keep the customers happy, then you’re sure to book up fast.”

  The moment the words escaped him, Cooper regretted them. He knew he had gone too far, and he could see it in her face. He did not defend himself when she broke free from Anson and punched him in the jaw. He did not speak in his own defense as she screamed for him to get out. He did not even have it in him to question Anson’s odd behavior of slumping to the ground and putting his head between his knees as he hyperventilated.

  “Get out of here!” Etta shouted, tears springing to her eyes as she slapped Cooper over and over. “I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that! Like I’m not allowed to be happy! Like I’m not allowed to enjoy myself, unless it’s with you!”

  Cooper backed away. When he felt he received the brunt of her fury, he gripped her good wrist in his large mitt. “Okay! Would you stop?” He looked into her watery eyes, and for a moment, he absorbed just how much pain she had been through that she had not shared with him. “I’m sorry.”

  Etta pulled away, shaking her head. “Go home!”

  “I’m so sorry, Etta. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m just surprised that you’re screwing this stranger.” Insecurity flashed across his face. “If you just wanted to fool around, I could’ve…”

  Unutterable words bubbled up in Etta’s mind, but she refused to spew out the things she would never be able to take back. Instead, she kept her reply succinct. “No. I want Anson.”

  “This guy?” Cooper questioned, lowering his voice. He motioned to the man shaking on the floor against the wall. “You want to be with this mess?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could’ve had me anytime, but you chose this guy.” When Etta nodded, he mulled over her choice as he both physically and emotionally withdrew from her. “Alright. But I’m warning you now; I don’t want to hear a thing about this. As long as he’s staying here, I won’t come over. Something breaks, you figure it out. I mean it. I’m not sticking around to be someone’s second choice. I’m out.”

  Etta thought it might be cruel to inform Cooper that he would not have been her fiftieth choice, so she kept her mouth shut. “I understand. Come back when you’re ready to be my friend, then. Nice to know you never really were.” She pointed to the exit, and did not lower her hand until the door slammed shut behind him.

  Etta was trembling. She had never yelled at Cooper like that before. She usually argued with him in her head, but refused to engage him aloud, knowing it would end like this. She swallowed a sob at the loss of the man who had loved her in one way or another since childhood.

  When she turned to face Anson, he was still huddled against the wall, struggling to breathe without wheezing. Coming to herself only marginally, Etta dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the stranger, wondering if Cooper’s doubts of their success rate were valid.

  She pushed out Cooper’s voice and concentrated on the man cowering before her. “Anson, it’s alright. He’s gone now.” She released him when her words had no effect and moved to the door, locking it. “See? Now no one can barge in here and bother us.”

  Anson nodded. His eyes closed to stave off the agony of embarrassment and the fear of the confrontation he just encountered. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “Can you make it up the stairs?” she asked, brushing a stray bit of dark hair from his forehead.

  He shook his he
ad. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I can see that.” Carefully, she pulled Anson to his feet, noticing the sweat covering his hands and face. “Easy, now. We’re just going to lie down for a minute in my bed.” Before he could protest again that he was alright, she placed her hand on his bicep. “I know Coop didn’t bother you, but I’m a little torn up about it. Will you hold me for a while?”

  Anson knew what she was doing, and loved her for the kindness. He nodded gratefully and gripped her as she led him to the safety of her bedroom. Carefully, as though the great wound he nursed was physical, and not psychological, Etta lowered Anson to her bed, going the extra mile to baby him by lifting his legs up. “Now I know I’m being a wuss,” he said woefully, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Not a baby. Just someone who needs a break. And maybe someone who went off his medication too soon.” She stood near his head and squeezed his hand. “I’ll make you some tea. You just rest.”

  Anson responded, but Etta did not hear him. She moved around her kitchen like a zombie, flashes of emotion tearing through her, unrelenting in their torment.

  Cooper. The jerk. Making her choose him over a man she only just met. Like she had ever given Cooper any indication that her body was for him. She cringed, hating that he saw her making out in bed with a guy.

  Tears welled, and since there was no one there to see them, she let them fall. The kettle whistled, and she poured a cup for herself, and one for Anson, hoping he was alright alone in her room.

  Anson. She knew next to nothing about him, except how he liked to be kissed. Etta cried harder, tears cascading down her cheeks and splashing into her teacup. Was Cooper right? Had she just thrown away her best friend for a stranger? It did not feel like he was just using her when they were together. Cooper’s words spread through her faster than she could hush them out. She hated how childish he made her feel. It was like he sought out her worst fears and gave them a voice. Etta could not escape the growing ache in her stomach.

  Two cups, one functioning hand. She could do it. If she could run the business by herself, she could carry two teacups to her bedroom. No big deal. She linked the three fingers sticking out of her purple cast through the handle of the second cup and balanced it as best she could on her way to Anson.

  Fourteen steps got her to the hallway. Fifteen made her fingers shake. Sixteen, and she dropped the china to the floor. Her grandmother’s china brought over from France. Now there was one less piece of her family, and it lay shattered at her feet in shards.

  The gentle flow of moisture transformed into a waterfall. Etta dropped to her knees and began picking up the pieces of her cherished grandparents.

  “Etta? Oh, baby! You alright?”

  “I’m fine!” she barked, harsher than she meant to. “I’m sorry. I’ll be there in a second. I just don’t want you to get cut.”

  Anson’s shaking had quieted. He knelt beside her and began picking up all the pieces of the teacup.

  “You don’t have to help me. I don’t need anyone’s help!” she sobbed, fingers shaking as she lifted another broken piece. Her chest heaved, and the bit of cup she was holding sliced across the inside of her hand. “No!”

  Within seconds, Etta was lifted to her feet and walked toward the bathroom. Anson closed the lid of the toilet and sat her down on it. “First aid kit?” he queried, poking around under the sink.

  “It’s behind the towels.” She wiped at the moisture on her face. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Anson gave her a wry smile as he extracted the kit and rifled through it. “Only thing I’m going to lecture you on is the opportunity you missed to belt out a nice and loud ‘shit!’”

  Etta snorted, despite herself. “I don’t usually shit in the hallway.” She watched his every move as he washed his hands three times. Then he disinfected and bandaged her cut. “It was my grandmother’s china from France. I hate that I broke it.”

  “You didn’t,” he stated without room for argument. “I saw the whole thing. Bitchin’ deer came out of nowhere. It was either you or the teacup. You made the right choice.”

  “‘Bitchin’ deer’?” she asked, permitting a small smile. She leaned her forehead into his strong shoulder, allowing him to bear a small amount of the weight that pulled at her.

  “Rough day, huh.” His fingers weaved through her chocolate tangles, as if he did this sort of thing for her all the time.

  “What would make you say that?”

  Anson chuckled as he rubbed her back. “I’m fairly intuitive.”

  “I’m sorry. This is all wrong. And now Coop’s in my head. I mean, I don’t know you! I just threw him away for a guy named Clark Gable!” she admitted ruefully.

  Anson closed his eyes and growled playfully. “My name is Anson.”

  “Well, Anson, you just walked into a mess. I’m a total and complete disaster of a person.”

  He shushed her kindly, running his fingers through her hair again, noticing how it centered her. “You’re not a disaster. I’m the train wreck. Some guy yells at you, and I don’t jump in to defend your honor? Just so you know, in my head, I gave him a piece of my mind.”

  “You did defend me. I’m glad you stayed out of the last bit, though. That was a long time coming, and had nothing to do with you. How are you, by the way?”

  “I’m fine. And hey, thanks for breaking that teacup. Took the spotlight off of me being a loser. Right thoughtful of you.”

  “You’re not a loser. Are you okay?”

  Anson kissed her cheek and nuzzled the side of her face with his nose. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Sounds even worse than when I say it. You’re a horrible actor.”

  Anson froze against her, and then relaxed with a chuckle. “You know, I’ve been called that before, but it really hurts coming from you.” He sighed, pulling away so he could help her up. “I’m okay. More embarrassed than anything else. Not very masculine, cowering like I did.”

  “You have a condition.”

  He grimaced. “Sounds even less manly when you say it like that.”

  “Sorry.” Etta drew comfort from his hand on the small of her back as they walked together to her bedroom. She stood at the doorway, not moving into the familiar space with him. “I… Would you mind if we just hung out a bit? It’s been a lousy evening, and while the stuff we did earlier was amazing, I’m just not up for amazing right now.”

  He kissed her hair. “Think we can scrounge up a deck of cards? Or did you want to be alone?”

  “No. I want to be with you. I could use a friend, though, not a make-out buddy.”

  Anson’s voice quieted. “I think if I was ‘boyfriend’, I could be both those things at a moment’s notice.”

  “Alright, boyfriend.” Her eyes widened. “Whoa. That sounded weird.” She shook off the oddity that threatened to make her giddy as her emotions swung hard and fast like a pendulum. “But no cards.” She displayed her cast on one arm and her bandaged hand to him.

  “Right. You’re running out of limbs, there. Should I put a potholder over that one to salvage what’s left?”

  “Oh!” she groaned. “A potholder! I forgot about the enchiladas! Man, I suck today!”

  Anson was already trotting toward the kitchen. Etta pulled out the hot pads and did her best to figure out how to pull the casserole without adding further injury to her unbending hands.

  “You know, I’ve never done much cooking. Could I take it out of the oven? I need the practice.”

  Etta launched the pads at his concealed smile. “Well played. Thank you.”

  “I’m not helping you. You’re teaching me, here. Big difference.” He set the casserole on the counter and eyed it hungrily. “I know you eat like a girl, but I eat like a trucker. I’m starving! Did you really make this?”

  “You mean, did I really overcook this? Yes, I did. Sorry. Can’t even order pizza, what with the weather being how it is.”

  Anson frowned. “If I never ate anot
her slice of pizza my entire life, that’d be just fine. This looks great. You are the perfect woman, you know.”

  “Now you’re just being nice.”

  “That’s what boyfriends are for. And for eating the bulk of the leftovers.” He pulled a fork from the drawer and pierced through the cheesy top layer, shoving the steaming bite into his mouth. “Ah!”

  “No, no! What were you thinking?” Etta laughed, awkwardly managing to hand him a glass of water. “It just came out of the oven!”

  Anson downed the entire cup gratefully. “I was thinking I wanted to hear my girl laugh. See? It worked.”

  Etta laughed a lot that night, despite the tension of the evening. She and Anson sat on her bed, feeding each other bites straight from the casserole dish between childhood stories and stolen kisses.

  Etta fell asleep in Anson’s arms, and for once, she rested peacefully. Her deep breathing relaxed Anson, who played with her hair and drew comfort in her proximity. He could not understand why, but something about her soothed him deep down in his soul, like nothing else ever had. While the thought of other people touching him made him cringe, the notion of being parted from her for even a moment felt like a significant loss. As her mouth lolled open in slumber, he vowed that he would do whatever it took to remain in that peace, and to deserve her kindness.

  Anson covered them both with her rose-laden comforter, smiling at the girlish innocence she exuded. He finally drifted off without the use of the drugs he had been dependent upon for years. There in the quiet of the French Connection, the two clung to each other and indulged in the most intimate of acts – dreaming in the presence of the only one they wanted to share their dreams with.

  Papa’s Room

  Etta awoke to find herself alone in her bed. This would not have been troubling three days ago, but she missed the feel of the strong man and the lure he held for her. The gravitational pull she was beginning to feel for him led her to the dining room, where the tarp was still hung to obscure his progress.