Escape In You

by Rachel Schurig

  I moan into his mouth, beyond turned on. I want to continue my exploration of his skin, but, at the same time, I want him to never stop kissing me. “I only saw four,” I whisper against his mouth. “You said you had six.”

  “Fuck the tattoos.” His voice is low and raspy and sends shivers right down to my toes. I smile, and he takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth. The way it feels as it rubs against mine has me panting and calculating the most efficient way to get him out of his sweat pants.

  Of course my phone would ring right at that moment. I groan and pull back, but Taylor doesn’t let me go. “If you value my sanity, you’ll ignore the damn phone.”

  “Sorry,” I say, and give him a gentle shove so he’ll release me. It might be my mom or Jerry, and I’ve already been irresponsible by staying away all night.

  I find my phone on the bedside table and answer on the last ring. “Morning, slut,” Ellie greets me cheerily.

  I roll my eyes though I know she can’t see me. “Shut up.”

  “I’m coming to get you. I need sustenance.”

  I look over at Taylor, who’s standing there in all his half-naked glory, the evidence of his desire to take things further obvious in his sweats. “I’m not at home,” I say.

  “Where are you?”

  I brace myself for her reaction. “Taylor’s.”

  Sure enough, she screams in my ear. “You are a slut!” she says gleefully. “I’m so proud. Bring the man hunk with you, if you must. I’ll get Everett and Hunter, too.”

  I hold the phone away from my mouth. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

  He’s clearly disappointed, but he nods. “Yeah.”

  I grin thankfully and tell Ellie we’ll meet her at the Burrito Barn in twenty. “Sorry,” I tell him. “But it’s probably for the best.”

  “Yeah, tell that to my junk,” he mutters as he walks to the bathroom. I laugh and gather up my jeans and bra. Before we leave, I call home, surprised when my mom actually answers. “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hey, Mom.” I try not to start worrying. “How are you?”

  “I’m feeling okay. Much better than last night. I think that lovely dinner you made really helped.”

  My stomach sinks at her hopeful tone. She wants so badly to be well, for me to stop worrying. “That’s great, Mom.” I try to keep my voice bright. “Is Jerry home?”

  “No, he’s already gone in to work.” I don’t know if I should be relieved or not. He’s not there to make things worse, but he’s also not there to check on her. Realizing that I should probably skip breakfast and go home, I start looking for my shoes.

  “How’s Ellie? Did you girls have a good night?” I wince again. Any time I spend the night away from home my mom assumes I’m at Ellie’s. I feel guilty for how much she trusts me. “Yeah, Mom, it was fine. Look, I’m on my way, okay? I’ll be home in just a few.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to do that. Don’t you have class?”

  “It’s Saturday, Mom. I only have class during the week.” I’ve told her this a hundred times. But she never remembers. It makes me wonder how much she actually hears when she’s feeling like this.

  “Then go out and enjoy your day off,” she insists. “I’m fine, Zoe. I really do feel much better today. I think I’ll take a nice walk and read for a while.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  “Zoe, please.” Her voice changes slightly, sounding sadder. “I want to feel like I can get through a day on my own. If you come home right now I’ll just feel guilty.”

  I freeze, indecision seizing me. I don’t want to make her feel like an invalid, she certainly gets enough of that. More than that, I want to believe that she’s okay, that leaving her for an afternoon is really no big deal.

  “Do something fun,” she says. “It’s such a nice day. I know I’ve been…not myself, lately, but don’t think I don’t know how much time you’ve been wasting in this house this summer.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll go out with some friends for breakfast. Would you mind if I call Mrs. Johnson and ask her to just stop by later?” Mrs. Johnson is our next door neighbor and a total life saver. She checks on my mom when I’m at school and Jerry is at work. She was the one that convinced me I should start taking classes this year. Mom had been in a pretty good place last August, and the two of them had joined forces to convince me that they could handle things while I was at school.

  My mom laughs, and my heart swells. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that sound. “That would be fine,” she says. “I’ll make her tea. I could use a chat with someone my own age.”

  There’s a lump in my throat. She sounds so much like herself, like the real her. I almost can’t stand to hear it. It could be taken away so quickly. Still, I can’t help but wish it really will be okay this time. Maybe she will be able to stay up long enough to make a cup of tea for an old friend. It hurts my stomach to think of what a big deal that one simple action would be.

  “I love you, Mom,” I whisper.

  “Oh, Zoe, baby, I love you too. Have fun today, and then come home later and tell me all about it.”

  “I will, Mom. I promise.”

  I hang up, and it takes me a minute to get myself together. I have to take deep breaths with my eyes closed to keep myself from falling to pieces. When I’m finally calm, I open my eyes and see that Taylor is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching me. I blush.

  “Bathroom free?” I ask, trying to sound normal.

  I try to squeeze by him but he takes my elbow, looking down at me. I’m so close to him in the small doorway that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Everything okay?”

  I don’t look up into his face, I can’t. I just nod, my head down. “Yup.”

  He doesn’t let go right away, obviously not believing me. Finally he sighs and releases me. “Okay.”

  ***

  When we get to the Burrito Barn ten minutes later, Ellie, Hunter, and Everett are already there. Mary, another friend, and her boyfriend Kris are with them in one of the big booths in the back.

  As we join them I start to feel a little excited. I deserve to have a nice day with friends, don’t I? There’s no reason I should feel so guilty or worried. No reason at all.

  I introduce Taylor to Mary and Kris, and we settle into the booth. Once we place our orders, Hunter tells me about their night. “We were talking and realized the fourth is coming up. We have less than a week to plan the big game.”

  “Ooh, that’s right. I almost forgot.”

  “What game?” Taylor asks.

  “We do a big softball game on the Fourth of July,” Everett says.

  Taylor’s expression is skeptical. “You do?”

  I laugh. I can see why that would seem strange to him. We don’t look like the most athletic group. The games started during a drunken binge a few years ago. We’d all gotten hammered at a pool party over in the Heights on the Fourth. Someone had the brilliant idea that we should play some baseball, so we headed out to Kennedy Park and tried to play in the dimming light. It was a disaster, of course. Trying to hit baseballs while too drunk to stand up straight didn't work very well. But it’d been a blast, and we’d kept up the tradition ever since.

  “We’re much more into the social aspect of the game,” I say. “Burgers, hot dogs, and beer.”

  “Lots of beer,” Everett says.

  “And you have to do shots each inning depending on how many runs were scored,” Ellie says, grinning.

  “The offense or the defense?” Taylor asks.

  We all look at each other. “Uh, both?”

  Taylor laughs. “Nice.”

  “You should join us this year,” Hunter tells him. “Weren’t you a big baseball star in high school?”

  Taylor tenses. “I don’t play anymore.”

  His tone is so cold that the entire table falls silent. I meet Ellie’s wide-eyed look across the table as the awkwardness descends on us.

  “Well,” I say bright
ly, “to be honest, we don’t play much either. We’re usually too hammered to get past the third inning.”

  Everyone laughs, and I feel Taylor relax.

  “What should we do today?” Ellie asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “I want to go swimming,” Hunter says, pouting. “You haven’t taken me swimming all summer.”

  “What are you, a fucking puppy?” she asks. “Take yourself swimming.”

  As my friends debate whether the community pool is worth the downer of the no-alcohol policy, I reach for Taylor’s hand under the table. His hands are shaking again, the way they were last night. I clutch one between both of my own, rub my fingers along his knuckles, and wonder what in the world could have upset him just now.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zoe

  The next week passes without much incident. I meet Taylor for lunch almost every day, and spend hours after class curled up in his apartment, watching movies or talking or watching him draw while I’m supposed to be studying.

  My house is much calmer than usual, thank God. Jerry is working late shifts, so he’s rarely at home when I am, which is fine by me. My mom seems to be doing better, too. Mrs. Johnson tells me she’s out of bed for several hours every afternoon. She’s usually asleep again by the time I get home from class, but it’s nice to peek in on her and see that she’s at least showered and changed her PJs.

  The Fourth falls on a Thursday this year so I get a day off class. I get a shock when I enter the living room; my mom is awake, sitting on the couch, dressed in sweats. There’s no sign of her bathrobe and she hasn’t showered yet, but the fact that she got up and dressed makes me do a double-take.

  “Good morning, sweetie,” she says. “I was hoping I’d see you before you left for your game.”

  “I’m just waiting for my ride.” Surprisingly, Taylor had decided to join us at the park for our ball game. After his reaction at the Burrito Barn, I was sure he’d refuse. He’s picking me up in a few minutes. I join my mom on the couch warily. It’s been weeks since she’s gotten up before me on her own accord. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m tired, but other than that…” She smiles wanly, and I feel a lump come to my throat.

  “I’m glad.” I think of calling Taylor and telling him not to get me when she puts a hand on my arm.

  “Mrs. Johnson invited Jerry and me over for barbeque this afternoon. Isn’t that nice?”

  “Wow, Mom.” It’s terrible, but her words fill me with fear. I don’t think she’s ready yet, not to actually go out and socialize like that. And Jerry won’t help her, won’t know how to keep her from getting overwhelmed. I’m about to blurt some of this out when she continues.

  “I told her we’d play it by ear. Jerry has to work at four, and I’m not sure I’ll be feeling up for it. But maybe I’ll be able to make it for an hour or so.”

  She looks so hopeful. It fucking breaks my heart. “That would be great, Mom.”

  She smiles again, happier this time.

  “I could stay,” I say, my mind spinning. Skipping the game won't be that big of a deal. If I was here I could make sure she was doing okay, make sure nothing upset her or worried her. She’d have a better chance of making it to the barbeque if I was here.

  “Absolutely not,” she says. “You go play your game with your friends.”

  “Mom—”

  “No arguing, Zoe. I want to hear about it when you get home, okay? I’ll try to stay up.”

  Her eyes look so clear. She really wants this day to go okay, I can tell. Everything in me is screaming that I should be here, that I should help. But I also know it will ruin things for her if she thinks I’m staying just to babysit her.

  “Okay, Mom,” I finally say, though I feel sick about it. “We’ll both have time with our friends and catch up later.”

  She squeezes my hand just as Taylor blares his car horn outside. “Your ride?”

  I nod. “I’ll have my phone, okay? If you need anything.”

  She shoos me away, so I get up from the couch and head to the door. I turn to look at her once before leaving, and my heart constricts. She looks so thin sitting there, so small and fragile. I rush back to her in two long strides and lean down to kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

  “Oh, Zoe. I love you too.”

  I’m afraid I’m going to cry any minute, so I turn away again and run out to Taylor without another word.

  I feel off the entire day. I drink too much too soon, trying to turn off the guilt and the fear. The beer does nothing to help my nervous nausea. I know I should be happy, should be excited for my mom. She’s having a decent day for once, and that’s something to celebrate. But I can’t turn off the worry that it will all crash around her, particularly if I’m not there to stop it.

  Against my better judgment, I eat a burger from the grill for lunch, thinking some food might help. And it might have, had I not followed it with a Jack and Coke that was almost entirely Jack. Taylor finds me throwing up in the bushes ten minutes later. Real sexy. He doesn’t comment, just rubs my back and hands me a napkin to wipe my mouth.

  “You wanna tell me what’s wrong today?” he asks as I sink to my knees in the cool grass. “You’re obviously upset. What’s going on?”

  I shake my head. “What does it matter?”

  “Zoe, come on. Of course it matters. Sometimes talking helps.”

  I look at him, and my blurry vision makes his face swim alarmingly. “You’re not the best one to lecture about sharing, Taylor.”

  He sits back on his heels, watching me. “Yeah, fine.”

  I stand, wobbling as I do, and he’s up and at my side immediately. “Let’s go home.”

  I laugh, because what the hell does home even mean?

  He takes me to his apartment, and deposits me in his bed while he goes to get me water. I bury my face in his pillow, willing the room to stop spinning. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home with my mom. But if I showed up like this, she would freak out. I have no intention of letting my mom know how much I drink—or why.

  Taylor reappears at my side with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he says. He helps me sit up and won’t let me lie down again until I’ve finished the whole glass. “You want to sleep it off?”

  I nod and slide back into his cool sheets. He lies next to me, stretching out and turning his head to face me. “You shouldn’t be this nice to me, Taylor,” I whisper, and close my eyes. Sleep is coming fast, and I’m relieved. It will be nice to turn it all off for a while.

  “Why?” I feel his fingers brushing through my hair. It feels so damn good, just like everything else about him.

  “Because I’m so not worth it.”

  He says something else, but I don’t catch it before sleep claims me.

  ***

  I wake up, my head pounding and my mouth feeling like it’s filled with cotton. It’s hot in Taylor’s room, and the light outside has faded enough to make me think several hours have passed.

  He’s still sleeping next to me, and he looks so beautiful, his dark eyelashes spread across his tan skin.

  I climb out of bed as quietly as I can, relieved when he doesn’t wake. I need to get home. I’ve stayed far too long as it is.

  The air is much cooler than it was earlier. I look up at the darkening skies, wondering if it’s going to rain. There’s a breeze, and it feels good on my overheated skin. The closer I get to home, the more worried I am about my mom. I can think of dozens of terrible scenarios that might have occurred while I was gone. It makes me sick to admit it, but it was easier for me when she just stayed in bed.

  As I turn onto my block, my phone beeps. I pull it out and see a text from Taylor. Where’d you go?

  I pause on the corner so I can type a reply. Needed to get home. You were too cute sleeping to wake up. I put the phone on “silent” and slip it back into my purse, not wanting to answer any more questions.

  By the time I reach the house, I’m convinced all hell will have broken
out in my absence. I hold my breath as I open the front door, my entire body coiled up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hate not knowing what I’ll see when I get inside, not knowing what is waiting for me.

  “Zoe?” my mom calls, her voice soft from the kitchen. “Is that you, sweetheart?”

  Relieved, I walk through the living room to join her. She’s sitting up at the kitchen table. She’s in her robe, but her hair is clean. She has a book and mug in front of her. “How was your day?”

  That lump is back in my throat. She’s okay.

  I have to lie. “It was good, Mom. Really good. How about you?”

  She gestures for me to sit with her, and I take the opposite chair somewhat gingerly. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, like this entire scene is a façade that I could blow away with the smallest move.

  “I had a good day,” she says. “Jerry and I made it to Mrs. Johnson’s after all. Then we took a walk before he went to work. I read for a while. It was good.”

  She’s looking right at me, as if she knows how I’m struggling to believe it’s possible. She smiles a little, and my heart clenches. She’s trying so hard and it makes me so proud of her, but it also hurts.

  “I’m glad, Mom. I’m really glad.”

  “So, tell me about your day. How’s Ellie? Who else did you see?”

  So I tell her all about the day, leaving out the part where I got so wasted before five p.m. that I ended up puking in the bushes. She laughs when I tell her about our ineptitude on the field, about how my new friend Taylor, an actual baseball player, was horrified by our lack of basic skills.

  “Who is this Taylor?” she asks, her eyes sparkling. “I’m hearing something in your voice, missy, when you say his name. You can’t hide these things from me.”

  “He’s a friend. He’s very nice and very cute.”

  “Cute, huh?” She winks. “Are we talking ‘handsome-cute’ or ‘stick-your-tongue-down-his- throat hot’?”

  “Mother!”

  She laughs, and I join her.

  “I’d like to meet this boy,” she says, and I suddenly feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. For a moment it had felt like old times, just like it used to be when Grace and I would come home after school and the three of us would laugh and tease about boys.