Reft

by Libby Austin

  Danelle told her the same thing I had, but Layna insisted that we at least stop by a wine shop to pick something up.

  Since I knew nothing about wine, I let Layna pick. Then I didn’t say a word when she went through the trouble of putting it in a special holder with a bow, which seemed totally pointless if she was taking it with the intention of it being drunk.

  After Danelle opened the door for us—because Layna insisted we should ring the bell, even though I normally would have walked right in—there was a conversation between the two of them about how lovely it was that she brought a gift and how it was nothing. That was paraphrasing, but it makes my point. It was bizarre. I didn’t know this was like a friendship rite of passage, akin to a mating ritual of sorts, which followed an unspoken set of prescribed guidelines. I was scratching my head in bewilderment when we made our way into the den.

  As soon as the hellos were done, Danelle ushered Layna and Kaitlyn off to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner. Layna gave me a brief kiss, and my eyes followed her until she was out of sight. When I turned back around, once again the guys were all staring at me.

  “Why the hell do y’all keep staring at me like I’ve grown two heads?” I asked, lifting my arms as if to say ‘What?’

  “She kissed you,” Bow said, like I hadn’t been there.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “When did you two become kissing friends?” Bow was apparently the group mouthpiece for this evening’s round of interrogation.

  “About a week ago, but I wouldn’t exactly call us kissing friends.”

  “What would you call it?” Touch asked. He stood with his arms crossed and an out-of-place, intense look on his face.

  “I don’t know what exactly to call it, but I don’t see how that is anyone’s business but mine and Layna’s. I don’t need a parent. I have two already. And I don’t recall ever questioning any of you about your relationships,” I said pointedly. Why they were interested in what was between Layna and me made no sense. Our relationship didn’t affect them, unlike the way their relationships had made huge ripples in my life.

  “We aren’t trying to parent you or tell you anything is wrong with your relationship with Layna,” Ruff said. “We all like her. I think we’re just shocked because you’ve never been interested in anybody, let alone a relationship before. But we’ll back off. Just know that you can talk to us if you need to.”

  Bow broke the tension by clapping his hands together and saying, “All right, can we get past this after school special bull shite and get on with the rest of this evening’s festivities?”

  Joker broke into the conversation to ask, “When the fuck did you start using words like shite and trying to sound British?”

  Bow flipped him off and said, “Since the in-laws were here. I had to get creative, or Ellie’s mother would give me dirty looks.”

  “When did you start caring what other people thought about the shit that comes out of your mouth?” Touch chimed in to the discussion.

  “Ever hear the phrase ‘happy wife, happy life’?” Bow asked Touch.

  Touch shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Well, learn it and take it to heart before you and Kaitlyn get hitched, because it will be your mantra for the rest of your life.”

  The girls came in carrying homemade pizza, and we settled in to watch the first of tonight’s movie lineup.

  “Why are we watching Gremlins?” Kaitlyn whined. “Those green guys creep me out.”

  “I’m using it as research,” Bow said without taking his eyes off the TV.

  “Research for what?” Ruff asked.

  “El—Danelle’s”—he almost slipped up and called Danelle, Ellie, which would have landed him in the guest room for sure—“nieces are coming to stay for a few days while their parents go on a cruise. I figure this will be a good reminder of what happens if I forget the rules.”

  “How do the Gremlin rules apply for kids?” I asked.

  “Don’t give ’em food and water after midnight, or they’ll piss and shit the bed. They must be slathered head to toe in SPF one hundred an inch thick to prevent sunburn, freckles, premature aging, sunspots, wrinkles. The list is fucking endless,” Bow rattled off his convoluted reasons, which I hated to admit made some sense.

  “My nieces are nine and seven. They’ve been potty trained for years,” Danelle offered as the voice of reason.

  “Ruff pissed the bed when he was twenty, and he’d been potty trained for years,” Bow said, unable to keep his mouth shut.

  “I was drunk, asshole, and thought I was dreaming,” Ruff yelled in his own defense.

  “Don’t get your ruffled panties in a twist. I was just using it as an example of how someone who is toilet trained could piss the bed.”

  Things went from funny to tense as Layna said, “Ruffles. Ruff is short for Ruffles. That’s even funnier than Handy Brandy.”

  Ruff’s head snapped in my direction so fast I was surprised his neck didn’t crack. I held up my hands. “I swear to God I didn’t tell her. I told her about everybody else’s nickname, which she swore she would never repeat, but I didn’t tell her anything about yours,” I said to Ruff. Giving Layna a hard look, I told her, “You held up two fingers and said, ‘scout’s honor,’ didn’t you?”

  “Wait,” Bow said, “she held up two fingers?”

  “Yeah, she sure did,” I answered.

  “You fucking dumbass. Two fingers is the Boy Scouts. Three fingers is the Girl Scouts,” he said to me as if this was something every person should know.

  “How the fuck was I supposed to know that? I was never a Boy Scout,” I defended my lack of knowledge.

  Bow rolled his eyes. “It’s one of the five basic positions for finger fucking.” He flipped up his middle finger. “You got the one finger salute.” He held up two fingers. “The Boy Scout.” Up went his ring finger to join his middle and index fingers. “The Girl Scout.” His little finger popped up and he split his fingers into the familiar V shape. “The live long and prosper.” Finally, he held his hand up. “And the how man.”

  “While entertaining, that was more than I ever fucking needed to know,” Layna said. “What’s the big deal about the damn nicknames? I just put it together when Bow said ruffled panties. If you don’t want people guessing what they are, why the fuck do you use them?”

  “Because most people guess it’s because of his gruff voice or because he has a fascination with dogs since Patsy is always around,” Joker explained. “Plus, his real name is Francis Lavern Lacey, which he hates even more than Ruffles.”

  “I know where you sleep, mother fucker,” Ruff said to Joker.

  “I’m not a mother fucker, unless you have something to confess. Consider this payback for The Holy Ghost incident. Besides, you offered to share your drums with Layna, remember? If you can trust her with your precious kit, you can trust her with your nickname, even though you have some crazy-assed aversion to it that no one else understands. So get over it already and let’s finish watching this movie so Bow doesn’t inadvertently turn one of their nieces into a scaly green monster.”

  Ruff didn’t say anything else, but I figured I better call my mom soon and tell her Layna and I were dating before Ruff had the chance to rat me out. I’d learned from Bow’s past mistakes not to underestimate Ruff’s need for revenge.

  When Layna and I were lying in my bed later that night, she apologized. “I’m sorry. It popped into my head and I didn’t think before I blurted it out. And I thought you were joking about how serious he was about it.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just need to call my mother first thing to preempt any of his attempts at payback.”

  “Why would he call your mom as payback?”

  “Remember how he called Bow’s mom to tell her Bow was married?” I reminded her of the earlier story.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, now that we’re dating, he could do the same thing with my mom.”

  She
sat up in bed and looked down at me, her face lit by the moonlight. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”

  I swallowed nervously. “Well, yeah. At least, I would like us to be, but I understand if that’s not what you want. I know I’m not exactly perfect boyfriend material.”

  “It’s not that, Brandon. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re rushing into this. There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other.”

  I rose to sit up. Pushing back her thick hair, I framed her face with my hands. “I know enough, and it doesn’t feel like I’m rushing into anything. Just the opposite, it feels like I’ve been waiting my entire adult life for you.” Not wanting to hear her reply that it was still too soon, I kissed her gently. “Now, let’s get some sleep. You’re my personal dreamcatcher; I want to have you in my arms.”

  I lay back, bringing her with me. We shifted a little to get comfortable, but she didn’t pull away from me. I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Too bad it didn’t last.

  OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, we explored each other more without going too far, and my feelings for Layna deepened. I knew what love was. I loved my bandmates as if they were my brothers. I loved my brother. I loved my parents, who’d been unusually reserved when I called them the day after Halloween to tell them I’d met someone. My parents hadn’t seen Layna and me together, but I thought they would see me finding someone to care about as a step forward. My mom had been on me for years about not keeping myself closed off. I didn’t know what to make of everyone’s response to Layna and me dating.

  I had lived my life without worrying about what others thought of my decision to be alone, and I was going to do the same in regards to my relationship with Layna. Since I had never felt anything close to what I was experiencing with her, I couldn’t say for certain, but I was pretty sure I was well on my way to falling in love.

  Layna seemed to withdraw from me ever so slightly since Halloween. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on, but there was a reserve about her that hadn’t been there before. We spent all of our free time together and held each other as we slept. Her presence was a balm to my battered soul. I gathered the nerve to ask her about it on Wednesday as we lay on opposite ends of the couch, me working on lyrics and Layna reading.

  “Layna,” I began, and she looked up at me, “did I—did I do something wrong? Do you not want me to tell people we’re dating?” My eyes stayed trained on the apricot blossoms I’d painted on her boot. “It’s just that, well, I’m proud to tell people that someone so beautiful—inside and out—smart, funny, and caring is by my side.” Extending my fingers, I lightly stroked them up and down her bare foot, needing contact with her in some small way. “But I understand if you don’t feel the same way.”

  The couch cushions shifted as she sat up and scooted closer to me. Placing my notebook beside us on the table, she took both of my hands in hers. “Brandon, it’s not that I’m not proud to be with you. You’re the sweetest, most genuine man I’ve met, but there is so much we still don’t know about each other. I don’t want you to regret the feelings you’ve only just now opened yourself up to.”

  Her words hit home. Fear and guilt rose within me. I was still lying through omission. “Layna, yes, I’m experiencing this for the first time, but one thing I’ve come to understand is that I’ve been fooling myself for years. The only reason I was able to hold my resolve was because there was no one who meant enough to tempt me to break my rules … until you. Can I say for sure that the result would have been the same if I met you five years ago? No, it may have taken me longer to realize, but I think the end result would be the same. I lo—” she put her finger to my lips as a tear trailed down her cheek.

  “Please, don’t say it,” she whispered. “We’re not ready.” Her voice broke and she began to cry in earnest. I drew her into my lap. She buried her face in the crook of my neck as I hid my own wet eyes against her hair. “I wouldn’t be able to take it if you regretted giving your love to me.”

  “I know what regret is, and there’s nothing that could make me regret you, Layna,” I promised, making her cries turn into sobs. Confusion and uncertainty swirled in my brain. I’d offered my love to her. She hadn’t rejected me, but Layna hadn’t accepted it as I thought she would. And the fear and doubt crept back to the front of my mind. All I could do was cling to her as we both cried.

  When her cries subsided, I said, “Come on, let’s go to bed. Nothing has to be decided right now. Let’s sleep, and we’ll wake up tomorrow to a new day.”

  I stood with Layna in my arms and walked to the bedroom. When I reached the bed, I used one hand to pull the blankets back before I gently laid her on the bed. I took her boot off, since she was allowed to sleep without it, and took off my shirt and jeans. Sliding into bed behind her, she let me pull her into my arms, though she remained stiff.

  Telling myself these were only the normal reservations that came with a new relationship, I did my best not to think about the possibilities of everything that could go wrong. Eventually, I drifted into a restless sleep.

  “NOOOOOOOOOO,” I screamed as I abruptly sat up in bed, reaching out as if I could stop the events taking place in my dream. My heart pounded and my breathing came in ragged pants.

  Drawing my knees up, I rested my elbows against them and buried my face in my hands as the tears came pouring from me. I hadn’t had the dream since Layna and I had been sharing a bed. That was why I called her my dreamcatcher.

  Layna’s hand came to rest on my back, and I felt her move closer to me. “Brandon, are you okay?”

  Unable to speak, I shook my head no. She turned me into her arms. This time it was she who held me as I cried.

  Minutes or hours later, when I could make words pass my lips, I said, “I’m okay.”

  “What happened?” Her voice was quiet, calm, soothing.

  “I had a bad dream.” I hadn’t spoken about my dreams to anyone in ten years. In college, I lived alone. On the road, I always roomed alone. It was hard, when we first started out, to justify the extra bus to the guys, but I had convinced them an investor was footing the bill. Since I’d been the one to snag the investor, I got the exclusive use of the room in the spare bus. It was the only time I’d used my parents’ influence and wealth. They’d bought the condo because of its safety features when the band chose to make this our home base. Basically, I rented to own from them until I could pay off the loan when the band found success.

  “Tell me about it,” she requested, and for the first time, I wanted to tell someone. She’d said there were things we didn’t know about each other. Well, this was the worst of me.

  “I used to have a mirror image,” I began.

  “Are you going to tell me you’re a vampire now?” she asked, and I smiled at her attempt to make me relax.

  “If only it were that simple. Barrett is my twin. We were mirror images. I’m right-handed. He’s left-handed. Our hair parted in opposite directions. My smile is crooked to the right, his was to the left. We finished each other’s sentences. We used words from ‘our’ language even after we learned to talk. We were two halves of a whole.” My breath came out in a sad sigh as memories of Barrett and me flashed before me like a slideshow.

  “Why do you talk about him in the past tense?”

  “What?” I asked, confused by her question.

  “You started out talking about Barrett in the present tense, then you changed to past tense.”

  The distinction hadn’t stood out to me. I’d never talked about Barrett to anyone outside of medical staff—until now. “He died when we were sixteen,” I said. Detaching myself from the story was the only way I would be able to tell Layna what happened. My voice became almost robotic as I confessed, “I killed him.”

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU killed him, Brandon?”

  The only way I would be able to get through the story was if I didn’t look at her, so I kept my gaze focused on the cloudless night sky outside the window.

  “I didn’t physic
ally pull the trigger, but it was my actions that lead to everything that happened, so it was my fault.”

  “What happened?” Her lips grazed my bare shoulder with a kiss.

  “It’s a long story,” I said with a sigh, knowing I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

  “I’ve got nothing but time. I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me.”

  “I met a girl. Doesn’t it always start with a girl?” I asked rhetorically. “Chelsea was her name. She worked at a hobby store. I hadn’t told anybody about my interest in painting, so I would go across town to this warehouse-type place. It was where a lot of local artists went. Some artists even had spaces—booths, I guess—that they worked in. There was this one guy who would sit and carve or whittle for hours. He made the most intricate designs. I loved being there because they all seemed to live art.

  “Anyway, Chelsea worked there as a cashier. Her love was pottery, but we could talk about art and we’d spend hours together working on stuff. We had a connection. It was one thing I hadn’t told Barrett about. For the first time, I had something that was just mine.

  “I don’t mean that to sound like my parents thought we should do everything together; it was more Barrett and me who decided. We were like magnets that pulled each other. Our parents actually encouraged us to be different. I think it puzzled them, actually, how much we conformed to each other. But art was my fledgling attempt to figure out who I was without Barrett.

  “Chelsea and I started hanging out more and more, until one day it just seemed natural to ask her to be my girlfriend. But I still didn’t tell anyone, because I didn’t want to share my art with them yet, and Chelsea was a part of art. It was easy because she lived in a different part of town and went to a different school. I didn’t even tell her Barrett was my twin, just that I had one brother. I should have realized if there was so much she didn’t know about me, there was probably a lot I didn’t know about her, like that she’d had an on and off boyfriend. But when you’re young, you don’t think about anything beyond what’s right in front of you.