Salvage

by Tiffany Aleman

  The sounds of the only other person here who’s clapping her hands doesn’t help anything either. I curl into myself, my joints and muscles scream in protest. That’s when I remember that I never made it to my room last night. Barely cracking one eye open, I look at myself through blurred vision and see that I’m in my boxers, nothing else.

  “Did you undress me?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep. I cringe at the sound of my own voice and the pain reverberates throughout my skull.

  “A little. You took care of most of it.” She’s awfully chipper this morning with her bright and cheery tone.

  I groan out some form of a thanks waving her away when she tries to pull the blanket off of me. “Would you stop? I need more sleep.” I pull the blanket tighter around me when she laughs. As much as I want to look up at her because I know how beautiful she is when she laughs, I can’t, this fucking headache won’t allow me.

  “Oh no,” she says. “You’re going to get up because we need to have a quick chat.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven. Now come on.” She claps again. With a grip I didn’t know she encompassed, Karmen rips the blanket off my practically naked body. A chill attacks my warm skin. Without moving from the couch, I look up and turn my angry eyes on her. “We have to get to work. So you need to get up.” When I don’t move she throws her hands on her hips, adding, “Do not think for one second I won’t drag you off that couch.” One of her eyebrows rises in a dare.

  I contemplate her threat for a second before I resign to the idea that she will not quit until I get up. Seeing as in high school she didn’t have a backbone, I like this feisty side of Karmen. When I catch her staring at my tattoo, I feel like I can’t breathe. I wait for her to say something but she doesn’t, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s sentimental and not something I talk about even if asked. But since she hasn’t said anything about it, either she’s respecting my privacy or she doesn’t care. Either way, I’m fine with her silence.

  I push up from the couch my hands raised in the air in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’m up.” I chuckle. From her fingers, I snatch the blanket back to wrap around my waist, and she sighs as I shoot her a smile over my shoulder. I try to ignore the headache that is bound to incapacitate me. As I head towards the bathroom, I ask, “Can I at least take a shower real quick?

  “That would be preferable.” She smirks and pinches her nose like I smell.

  I duck down and smell both my armpits and shake my head. “I don’t stink.”

  “I wasn’t insinuating that you smelled like B.O. but definitely like a brewery.”

  I go to move past her but before she thinks she’s in the clear, I slap her ass and saunter off to the bathroom with a smile on my face. Even hungover she can still put me in a good mood.

  “We’ll have that chat when I’m done.”

  Karmen stands next to the kitchen table looking at something. In just a towel, I walk past her towards the coffee pot. As I pour my steaming cup of Holy goodness, she says, “Well…I’m just going to come out and say it, okay?”

  I turn around, one hand clutches the end of my towel to hold it in place. My eyes find hers over the rim of my coffee cup. I nod as I blow on the steaming liquid. I watch as she focuses in on my lips, so I purposely blow a little harder.

  She drops her eyes and looks down at her fingers, concentrating on picking at the red nail polish on her nails. “I want us to be friends not just at work but out of work too,” she blurts out.

  At this I laugh.

  Her head snaps up and she glares daggers at me from across the few feet separating us. “Is it so funny to think of us being friends?” The sharp tone of her voice tells me she really thinks that I wouldn’t want to be friends with her. I do. But I want more, much more.

  “No, Karmen.”

  “Then why laugh at me?”

  “Well, I kind of already thought we were friends.” I shrug. “And after that kiss, maybe even a little more.”

  I watch as her body sags in relief, and hope begins to build that maybe she might want more, too. “Brayden, I already told you we cannot go there.”

  “Well seeing as we already did ‘go there,' I don’t see what the problem is. You kissed me, Karmen. I know you felt what I felt in that kiss.” I place my mug on the counter, my coffee is forgotten as I take a step in her direction. My tone drops to one of seduction. Like yesterday, I pull her back under my spell. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel the fire.” Another step. “The heat.” I drop my voice another octave as I close the distance between us. My face closes in on hers. Instead of claiming her lips like I want, I skim the tip of my nose along her jaw, up her neck in agonizingly slow strokes, before growling in her ear, “The hunger.” I look down, her chest rises and falls in rapid breaths that fan out against my own neck. Blood rages through my veins like an addict getting the first hit of the rush they so much crave. My hand lands on her back. I pull her flush against my body, the towel separates my skin from touching hers. The contact forces an erotic groan past those luscious lips I’m dying to kiss again. “Things could be so good between us. Even now, I can feel the tremble of your body against mine.” I nip at her earlobe and murmur, “The way your heavy breaths hit my neck, I can feel how hard your nipples are. They’re begging to be sucked, right? Do you want me to touch you? Put you out of your misery?” I groan, and she nods her head like the wanton woman she is. Slowly, I glide my hand up along her side, and with the briefest of touches I let my thumb graze across her tight nipple. She whimpers and I add, “You want me and I want you.” Absentmindedly, she nods her head vigorously, and at that moment I know I’ve got her. I pull back to see her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. “But since you only want to be friends then that’s what we’ll be.”

  I know as soon as my words sink in. Karmen’s eyes pop open and she gasps in shock. I tilt my head to the side and stare back at her.

  “You’re an ass,” she snaps, flustered.

  “Maybe. But I proved my point. We’ll be friends.” I drop my hands from around her waist and step away from her. “I’m giving you what you want. I’m a very giving man.” I grin at her and wink. “You should remember that.” I grip the towel tighter, to keep from reaching out to her. My feet carry me towards my room to get dressed, but her parting words halt my movements.

  “That kiss didn’t mean anything,” she says nonchalantly.

  I look back at her over my shoulder, and my grin turns into a full-blown smile. “You keep telling yourself that, babe. Your body doesn’t lie. It didn’t lie yesterday when your hands were fisted in my shirt, and it didn’t lie a second ago when you were putty in my hands.”

  I don’t give her a chance to refute what I’ve said. We both know I’m right. I’ll play her friends card. But just like a spark eventually becomes a flame, that flame will sooner or later turn into an inferno. I’m betting whatever this is between us will be ablaze in no time.

  I’ll wear her down.

  And I can’t wait.

  Kegel exercises suck. As many as I’ve done, it should be considered an Olympic sport. If anything I will have the vagina of a queen virgin on her wedding night. Every day for the past week Brayden has found some way to get to me. One second it’s a meaningless touch. He’ll pass by me and skim my wrist with the tips of his fingers, or the back of my neck if my hair is pulled up, or my lower back. The next I’ll feel a breath glide across my neck as he whispers something in my ear. I’ve stayed strong, not letting him get to me, or at least not letting him see that he’s getting to me, thus the fucking Kegels. But now as he wraps a loose piece of my hair around his finger and gently tugs, I can feel my resolve begin to weaken.

  When he came home from the gym earlier, I was on the couch reading a book. As soon as the door shut behind him and I looked up, I was done for. Sweat glistened on his skin as if he’d just stepped out of a pool. I watched in a sweet and twisted fascination as his muscles bulged and flexed with the movements of him lift
ing his shirt to wipe away at the sweat running down his forehead. A shirt mind you that stuck to his body like a second skin.

  So here I am, sitting next to him on the couch while the sounds of Kevin Hart from The Wedding Ringer attempt to drown out the thudding of my heart. It does no good. At first, when we sat down to watch the movie we were both on opposite ends of the couch. But as he got up to make popcorn and returned he had moved closer towards the middle of the couch. When I went to go and get a couple of Cokes, without noticing it I had followed his same move. Every time either of us got up to get something we always returned closer to the other than necessary. With his fingers in my hair, he gently massages my scalp with soothing, circular motions. My eyes feel heavy with sleep, but I must force myself to stay awake. In an unconscious state, there is no telling what I will do to this man. By the dreams I’ve been having lately, I’d probably mount him and take what I want so desperately. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.

  Friends.

  Friends…

  Friends!

  I’m constantly reminding myself that we’re only friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. I keep asking myself why I said I just wanted to be friends. Those I have enough of if you count Tammy and Ray. Being friends with Brayden was a stupid idea on my part. Because the way I’m looking at him, the things I’m thinking of doing to his body at this very moment, are far beyond the boundary lines of friendship. For his sake, not mine, I force myself to take deep, even breaths in and slow, even breaths out, and start the torturous fucking Kegel exercises all over again.

  Goosebumps spread along my flesh like a wildfire claiming a mountainside when I hear his deep, gravelly voice in my ear. “You can go to sleep if you want. I promise not to do anything.” With the slightest bit of pressure, he tilts my head towards him where I seek solace in the crook of his shoulder. The scent of fabric softener and a subtle hint of spice infiltrates my senses. I’m lost to the sound of his voice in my ear, the feel of his fingers combing through my hair, the smell of him wrapped around me, and the sight of his fingers with his free hand as they sweep up and down along the palm of hand.

  Trust.

  I need to be able to trust him before I’m able to act on this chemistry between us. Like a home, a relationship of any sort needs a sturdy foundation. And though our foundation is being laid, it’s still not completely set.

  It takes every ounce of strength I have to pull out of his grasp. Once I’m safely on the opposite side of the couch, I make sure to keep my eyes trained on the movie playing. I have no idea what it’s about, but out of the corners of my eyes I can see the hurt clearly written on Brayden’s face.

  “I’m sorry.” He slides to the other end of the couch. Instead of feeling better for the distance between us, I feel more alone than I ever have. And throughout my life, I’ve felt alone plenty of times.

  I heave a deep sigh and start to tell him it’s not his fault that it’s mine, but I’m cut off by his question. “So if you’re not busy tomorrow I was wondering if you’d like to go hiking with me, Drew, and his wife, Chelsea?” At the mention of Drew’s name I cringe, and my reaction makes him snicker. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of him, but I promise you he’s really not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” I counter, disbelief written all over my face. “Are we talking about the same Drew?”

  “You just have to get to know him is all.” Brayden shrugs like it’s that simple.

  “You do remember he made my life a living hell, right?” I turn to face him, tucking one leg underneath me as the other dangles off the side of the couch. “I mean you should, you were with him most of the time.”

  Brayden nods and a sad smile pulls the corners of his lips down. “I remember, no matter how much I wish I could forget.” He looks up at me and shakes his head. “We’re never going to get past this, are we?” He ghosts his hands between us. “When you see me all you see is the sordid past we share, right?” He sighs. “I mean I get it, I do. If I were you, I would never forgive me for what I did to you in high school. No matter what you say, you can’t really see us being friends can you?”

  Startled by his questions, I’m speechless because I don’t know what to say. On some level, he’s right. When I do see him, it’s a blaring reminder of the past we share. But at the same time I also see the new relationship we’re building. Forlorn, Brayden sits next to me, head thrown back, fingers laced behind his neck as he stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. In high school, Brayden, when not with his friends was the brooding type. It was almost like he was trying to be two different people. When he was with his friends, he laughed and joked around with them, picked on me because that’s what they did. But when he would walk the hallways alone his head would hang, there was this tightness around his eyes and mouth, a lost look in his eyes. Kind of like the look he’s wearing now, and I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t pull at my heartstrings a little.

  Right now, this moment is a game-changer between us.

  Either I need to let go of the past and truly forgive him to move on or… let him go. There are some things in life you just can’t salvage. And as much as that statement rings true I don’t want to think that we’re beyond saving, that anyone is beyond saving. I need to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. With a decision standing firm, I let one wall drop and I put a little bit of trust in Brayden.

  I give him a part of me.

  “My dad was an alcoholic.” My voice is a soft contrast to the boisterous movie playing on the TV. I stare down at a seam on the couch cushion, but I can see Brayden’s attention is solely focused on me. He reaches over and mutes the television. “I had no intentions of ever coming back to this place. This town, every memory it held.” I shake my head on a sigh. “I couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” A sardonic chuckle escapes me as I look up at him, my eyes catching his. “But look at me now. Five years later and I’m still here.”

  “Why did you come back?” Brayden asks, curious.

  “Mommy dearest OD’d.” I shrug.

  “Karmen…look…”

  “It was only a matter of time. I mean she’d been an addict for so long it’s hard for me to remember a time when she was ever sober. So when my dad called and told me, I came back home with the intentions of only staying long enough to help him bury her. That’s when I found out he had cirrhosis of the liver.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat.

  Brayden reaches out and places his hand on top of my knee. And I draw strength from his touch. “Did he quit drinking?” he asks, his voice soft and encouraging.

  “Yeah, or at least I can’t remember him taking a drink while I was around after he told me his diagnosis. Not that it mattered. The damage was already done. It was only a matter of time before he died, too.” No longer can I contain the tears that so desperately seek to release. The pain in the center of my chest is too great to attempt to hold them in any longer. “You see, no one knew what my life was like at home. Only Tammy. My hell was never ending. But when I came home for my mother’s funeral I felt like I was meeting a new man. As thankful as I am for the four years I got with my father, for the new memories we made, I am still so pissed off because the dying man I met is the one I should have known all along,” I sob. “When I had no one, I should have at least had him, and I didn’t.”

  Torrents of emotions wreck my body. Anger. I should have been enough for my parents. Loneliness. Because of their vices I now have no one to hold me up in moments like these when I fall apart. Confusion. Though I’m grateful that my father and I had made amends, I don’t understand why it couldn’t have happened sooner? Why he couldn’t have gotten sober sooner? Happiness. I might have had an emotionally and mentally empty childhood, but I did get four years with my father that I would never want to take back. But the most prominent of emotions is hurt. For the selfish ways of my parents, it’s why I have to live with these feelings. My mother couldn’t keep sober for her own reasons th
at I will never understand, and my father couldn’t keep sober because he spent his days watching the love of his life self-destruct. Unfortunately for me I was caught in the middle.

  Lost in my thoughts and feelings, I don’t realize when strong arms wrap around me or when I’m pulled from my seat and onto his lap. Brayden smoothes his hand up and down my back in a sweeping motion. He doesn’t say anything nor do I want him to. He just holds me tight and lets me release my pain the only way I know how. I clutch onto his shoulders and bask in his strength. It’s his strength that eventually has the tears subsiding. It’s his strength that begins to heal the hole in my heart. It’s his strength that gives me the courage to say what I need to say.

  “I know I keep pushing you away, Brayden. But you have to understand that even though you claim to be a changed man, and I’m beginning to see that maybe you are, you are still a person associated with so much of the pain I feel. ”

  “I know,” he murmurs in my ear, and I can hear the defeat in his tone.