She lays a hand on her chest. “Did you just call me funny?” She bats her lashes at me.
“Among other things.”
She shrugs. “I like funny better.” Then she goes into her room, the door softly clicking closed behind her.
“Yeah, I do too,” I murmur to no one.
I think I’m in trouble. Big trouble.
Fin
Two cups of coffee is not enough. Tag doesn’t seem to mind my bitchiness, though. He walks solemnly beside me down the sidewalk. I take a deep breath, because for the first time ever, I want to tell someone about my mom.
“The first time my mother ever tried to kill me, we were on a Ferris wheel at the county fair. She was cycling, I know now. I didn’t know it then. I just though we were going to have a fun day. My mother had days that were really low, but every now and then she would have an up day. And when she was up, she was flying. She had an imagination and she wanted to go on adventures and we laughed and played.”
Tag walks along beside me and doesn’t say anything. He just listens.
“But I was six the first time she ever tried to kill me.”
I sink into the memory like it was yesterday.
“I don’t want to go,” I whispered to her, as we stood in line for the Ferris wheel.
She squatted down next to me. “What did you say, sweetie?”
“I don’t want to go,” I said again, this time a little louder.
She stood back up, still holding tightly to my hand. “Oh, everyone needs to ride the Ferris wheel, sweetie.” She spread her arms out wide. “The world looks so big from up there.”
I tugged on her hand again. “I don’t want to go.”
But she was already passing our tickets to the carnival worker. She jerked my arm and yanked me onto the platform. I followed her, because she was squeezing my hand so hard it hurt. There was a frantic look in her eye, and I knew that our up day was over. She was on the way back down and crashing hard.
And she was going to take me with her.
We got in the seat and the carnival worker clamped the long bar across our laps, but my legs were so small that it barely held me in. The contraption rocked as it began to rotate, and I grabbed the bar as tight as I could. Mom leaned over the edge and looked down. “Look, baby.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to look.
The seat rocked again as more people got on. “Look,” she said again. She yelled it this time, and I saw the people in the bucket above us look down at us with a frown. I wanted to tell them I was fine, but I was not fine. I was not ever going to be fine.
The rocking stopped and we started to move in a slow circle. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Open your eyes,” Mom said.
The wind very gently blew my hair back, and I was glad I’d let her put the pretty pink bows in my hair before we left home that morning.
“I said open your eyes,” Mom snarled. She squeezed my chin between her thumb and forefinger and I let out a cry. “Are you afraid to fall?” she asked. She held her arms out to the side and closed her eyes, her face contrary to what was going on in her head. She confused me so much when she got like this. “Are you afraid to fall?” she asked again, this time louder.
“No,” I said quietly. I was much more afraid to be in that bucket with her.
Suddenly, she grabbed the front of my dress and lifted me from my seat onto her lap. The bar was so loose that it provided no resistance at all. I wrapped my arms around her neck.
“I’m going to teach you an important life lesson, sweetie,” she said, her voice close to my ear.
“No!” I struggled to hold on to her, but she pried my arms away from her neck as she turned me upside down. She held me by my feet over the back of the basket, and I flailed, trying to find something to hold on to. “Mommy!” I screamed.
The people below me started to freak out, and the ride stopped entirely.
“This is what falling feels like!” Mom cried. “Remember what this feels like, baby, so you’ll never do anything so stupid.”
“Pull me up,” I pleaded. Her hands faltered, slippery with sweat, and I slid down a little. The ride had stopped and the man in the bucket below us held out his arms like he might be able to catch me if she did drop me. “Please! Mommy! Pull me up!”
She laughed. “Falling, baby. Make sure you never do it.”
“I won’t!” I shouted tearfully. I watched as my pretty pink hair bows fell from my hair and landed in the grass far below us. “I promise I’ll never ever fall.”
Finally, she pulled me up and I scurried to the edge of the bench, trying to stay as far from her as I could. She tossed her head back and laughed.
The ride started back up, and we finally got to the bottom. There were two police officers waiting when we got off, and one of them took my hand while the other put handcuffs on my mom.
The next three months I got to stay with my grandmother. I was safe with my grandmother. I was happy with my grandmother. No one tried to kill me when I was with my grandmother.
But when they got my mom’s meds regulated, they sent me back to her. This happened over and over until I was ten, and my grandmother died. Then I had no one to take me, and I was officially in the system.
That was the best day of my life. The day I went to a group home because there was nowhere else for me to go. That was the day my life started.
But there is one thing I know for sure. My mom taught me a lesson that day. “Don’t ever fall, baby. Never, ever fall.” So I don’t. And I won’t. I can’t.
I will never step close to the edge. I’ll never get myself into that kind of situation.
I jerk myself out of my trance when Tag puts his arm around me and pulls me into an alley. “Sixty seconds,” he says.
He pulls me against him and I go willingly. He holds me tightly, and I relish every second. I don’t know when I started to need this man, but I’m there.
He gets to sixty and sets me back, but this time he does it slowly, almost like he doesn’t want to let me go.
“My mom is batshit crazy,” I tell him as I step back into the street and we walk toward the assisted living facility. He left Benji with Wren, and I’m kind of glad. I’d be afraid my mother would hurt him.
He nods. “Sounds like it.”
We go in, and I sign the paperwork so the administrators can move her to a section of the facility that has more security. “Is that all you need from me?” I ask as I push the clipboard back toward the doctor in charge.
“We’d like to offer some counseling for you and your mom. I know it wasn’t always easy for you.” He’s the psychiatrist who is responsible for my mom’s treatment.
I shake my head. “What good would that do?”
“Honestly? For her, probably nothing. For you, maybe it would help.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
He nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Tag and I step back onto the sidewalk outside and he says, “You didn’t want to see her?”
I shake my head. “No.” I heave a sigh.
He looks straight at me and stares into my eyes. “You still have hope that she’ll love you the way you need to be loved?”
“No. I stopped hoping for that a long time ago.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says. His hand slips into mine, and he tangles our fingers together. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but I don’t pull my hand away. “Do you feel like having breakfast?”
I nod, and we go into a small place that specializes in waffles.
He opens a menu. “What’s good here?” he asks. He grins at me.
“Duh,” I say. “Waffles.”
He lays the menu to the side. “Then I guess I’ll have waffles.” He looks up at the waitress. “And coffee.”
“Same,” I say.
“So, you’re afraid of heights now?” he asks as he stirs cream into his coffee.
“No, I’m just afraid of falling.”
He stare
s hard at me over the rim of his mug. “Explain.”
“I have to have my feet solidly planted, that’s all.”
His eyes narrow. “You like control.”
I nod and give a little shrug. “Yes.”
“So when you and I were together…” He stops and shakes his head. “Never mind.” His cheeks turn red.
“Say it,” I prompt. My heart is tripping like mad.
“When we were together and I slapped your ass, did it turn you on or did it turn you off?”
My palms start to sweat, so I wipe them on my jeans. “I’ve had men slap my ass before.”
His jaw muscle jerks. “We’re not talking about them. We’re talking about you and me.”
I sit back and try to breathe. “So, you want to know if you turned me on?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you care?” I watch his face closely.
“Because I fully intend to do it again one day, when you’re ready for what I want.”
My belly betrays me with a little flip. “And what do you want?”
“I want to wait while I get to know you. And I want to take you on a few dates. And I want for you to fall in love with me and with my son. And then, when we’re both sure we want it, I want to fuck you again, but this time it’ll be more. So much more.”
I can’t speak. I didn’t expect him to lay his cards on the table like this. I expected him to cover his hand and protect it, just like I would do. “I don’t fuck anybody more than once.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t want that. I want to make you fall in love with me.” He takes my hand in his and drags his thumb across the back of it in slow sweeps.
“You don’t want much, do you?”
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth quirking just a little. “I want it all.”
“With me?”
He nods. “With you.”
“Can I think about it?”
He shakes his head. “No. If you think too much, you’ll run scared.”
“So what should I do?”
“Let me love you.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”
I scoff. “You don’t love me.”
He grins. “Not yet. But I want to date you.” He squeezes my hand. “Will you go on a date with me, Finny?”
I look around the restaurant. “Aren’t we doing that now?”
He smiles. “Are we?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
The waitress arrives with our waffles, and he lets my hand go. He eats in silence, and so do I.
When we’re done, he pulls out his wallet.
“I got it,” I say. I pull a credit card from my pocket.
“I pay,” he says.
“Dude, do you know how much money I made last year?”
“I pay, Finny.”
I flounce back against the seat. “Why?”
“I don’t have much, but I earned what I do have, and I want to spend it on you. So let me, okay?” He stares hard at me. “Let me value you. Treasure you. Enjoy you. Treat you the way you should be treated. You can trust me, Finny. I won’t let you fall.”
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow hard to push past it.
“Thank you for breakfast,” is all I can say.
He signs the check and we get up. He tangles his fingers with mine again and we walk side by side down the street. “Can I feed Benji when we get home?” I ask quickly. Heat creeps up my cheeks when he grins at me.
“You don’t like babies,” he reminds me. He bumps my arm playfully with his.
“I like you. And I might like your baby. I have to spend some time with him to see.”
He nods. “Okay,” he says. “You can feed him. I need to pack, anyway.”
We walk side by side, hand in hand, and I am afraid that I’m falling way too fast. I swore I would never, ever fall, but this doesn’t feel like freefalling. This feels like soaring. Like catching the wind and letting it carry me.
“Would you really catch me if I fell?” I ask him as we step into the elevator.
He pulls me against him and his lips hover over mine. “I’d catch you, or I’d fall with you trying to keep you up.”
“Don’t set me up, okay?” I lay my forehead against his chest so he can’t see the truth in my eyes. I don’t want him to see how much I want this. How much I want him. How much I want the perfect.
“I won’t.” He tips my face up and his lips touch mine, tentative and slow at first, but then he spins us around and presses me against the wall, holding my face in his hands. His lips are suddenly hard, and his tongue slips into my mouth. He tastes like waffle syrup and heat. He’s breathless when he steps back, and I see him adjust his junk.
“You okay?” I blink down toward his discomfort.
“I’m fine.” He grins. “He’ll give up in a second.”
I laugh out loud. “I hope not.”
When the door opens I step out of the elevator and he follows, then pulls me back against his front, his arms around me, his hand on my belly. He holds me and whispers in my ear. “I think I’m in like, Finny.”
I cover his hand with mine. “Me too,” I whisper. He kisses my cheek quickly and we go inside the apartment.
He’s going to break my heart. And I’m going to let him, because for the first time ever, it might be okay to be vulnerable, at least with him.
Tag
Four days on a tour bus with a woman I have a serious crush on, and now my body aches too much to even put the moves on her.
“Sam!” I call out across the lawn where we’re setting up their stage. “Where do you want this?” I point to the speaker I’m holding.
“Up your ass would be fine,” he yells back at me. He grins, though, so I’m pretty sure he’s joking.
I set the speaker down and wait for instructions.
He walks over to me and claps me on the shoulder. “We can let the set-up crew finish the rest of this.”
“You sure? I can keep going,” I tell him. I’m lying, but still.
“Well, I can’t. I plan to fuck my wife later, and my back isn’t going to let me if we don’t quit soon.”
“Well, there’s that,” I say. My face floods with heat.
He stares at me, his eyes narrowed, and then shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s something. Say it.”
“What’s going on with you and Finny?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nothing. Why?” I look everywhere but at him.
“Because,” he says slowly, “she’s my family, and I want to be sure you’re in it for the right reasons.”
“And what reasons would those be?”
“The good kind. Not just the I-want-to-get-in-her-pants kind.”
“I have good intentions. And the I-want-to-get-in-her-pants intentions. And the I-want-to-make-her-fall-madly-in-love-with-me intentions.”
His eyes open wide. “Damn. You’re one pussy-whipped bastard.”
“You’re right.” He’s right. I am pussy-whipped. I watched her walk by me this afternoon, and she winked at me once, and it was all I could do not to chase her down so I could kiss her right then and there, in front of everybody. “You think I have a shot?”
I sit down on the speaker and he sits beside me.
“Finny’s a strange bird,” he replies. I open my mouth to protest, but he shushes me. “Hang on,” he says. “Finny’s amazingly talented as a musician. She’s fierce on those strings, but she’s afraid of everything.”
“She doesn’t act like she’s afraid of anything.”
“She’s a good actor, too.” He points a finger at me. “But as long as you have good intentions, I’ll leave you two alone.”
I nod. “You have nothing to worry about. My intentions are honorable.” Well, I kind of would like to get in her pants, too, but still honorable.
“Just be easy with her,” he says. He pinches his lips together. “I take that back,” he says. “Don’t be easy with her.
If you pussyfoot around, she’ll never tell you how she feels.”
“How do you think she feels?” I ask him.
“I think she likes you a lot.” He points over my shoulder. “She can’t take her eyes off you.”
All the girls and Emily are standing on the stage, and they’re testing the microphones and stage equipment. Finny holds up her thumb to show that her setup is okay. She looks over at me and smiles and I lose my breath a little bit.
“I’m not worried about your intentions anymore,” Sam says quietly.
“Why not?”
“Because when she smiled at you, you looked like the happiest guy in the world.” He grins at me. “Congratulations.”
Marta walks around the corner and she’s pushing a double stroller. Sammy, Sam’s two-month-old, is in one bucket seat and my son is in the other. She stops in front of us. “I’ve decided to keep both the boys tonight so you guys can get some rest,” she says.
My brow shoots up. “What?”
She grins at me. “It’s purely selfish. I like the little guy, and he likes me, and I think you need a break.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I object.
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.”
“Are you sure?” My heart leaps in my chest at the thought of a night of uninterrupted sleep.
“Emilio and I got a hotel room so we would have space for the cribs.” She winks at me. “Enjoy a night with no babies or parents on the bus.”
My face gets hot. Surely she’s not suggesting…
“Dude, I think she just told you to go get laid,” Sam says, leaning his head toward mine.
“She did not.”
He grins. “She totally did.”
Marta turns back to face me. “She totally did,” she says. She smiles at me again. “I may be old, but I’m not dead.”
I lean down and kiss my son on the forehead. He turns his head like he wants to nurse on my cheek, and I let him nuzzle for a minute. God, he has my heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him. I kiss him, lingering over his tender skin a moment longer than I should, I know. “Call me if you need anything?” I tell Marta.
“Of course.” She steps up onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek really quickly. Then she says quietly so only I can hear it, “Finny’s afraid to sleep with a man.”
While We Waited Page 11
