I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Every second I spend with Gabe makes me care about him more and more. There’s no denying, I am completely and utterly in love with him.
And I’m glad I am.
I can’t wait to introduce him to my family. They are going to love him as much as I do, I know they will.
“Morning, Eloise,” Marcy says the second I set foot through the door.
“Morning.”
“Did you tell your parents? Or did you leave it for me to do?”
With a fake smile plastered across my face, I say, “I told them all right.”
“And?”
“And they’re letting me change my days off to his, and invited him to dinner on Saturday.”
“They know about what you did in your room?”
“Why do you think they moved my days off?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter to me because I gave my two weeks’ notice this morning anyway.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, I can’t work in such a place any longer.”
“Which is good, because I can’t handle you working here any longer either.”
I walk away, proud my cheeks didn’t even go a little bit pink.
All week, I stay at Gabe’s. I don’t think I could sleep without him holding me in bed at night.
It’s Saturday and I’m at my apartment. Gabe worked and I spent the day doing laundry and reading. Now I’m waiting for him to pick me up for dinner at my parents.
There’s a knock at the door, and I open it.
“Hi,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He runs his hand down my back and over my butt, leaving a trail of sparks from his touch.
“We should stay here and get naked.”
“There is plenty of time for that later,” I say, pulling away. “Let’s get going. I can’t wait for you to meet my family, you’re going to love them.”
Gabe’s shoulders drop, as do the corners of his mouth. He looks like a condemned man, but he has nothing to worry about, he’ll realize that when he gets there.
Other than when I give him directions, we drive in silence. His hand moves nonstop on the center console, jiggling with nerves. I suppose it’s normal to be nervous about meeting your girlfriend’s family for the first time.
We pull into the driveway and I hop out of the truck. Gabe stays seated behind the wheel, his door closed. I move around the truck, and open his door.
“Come on,” I say, tugging as his hand.
Gabe sighs loudly, and gets out of the truck. I lace my fingers through his and lead him to the front door.
As soon as we reach the doormat, Sophie flings open the door.
“Hey,” she says. “Come on in, Gabe.” Sophie grabs both our hands and pulls us through the door.
“You remember my sister, Sophie, from our first date,” I say to Gabe.
Gabe nods at her.
“Let’s shoot some stick, I hear you’re good at it, but I bet I’m better.” Sophie drags us down the hallway.
“Where are Mom and Dad?”
“In the kitchen, cooking. They said they’d call us when dinner was ready.”
My brow knits. That’s not like them. They always at least say hello to a new guest.
“The table’s all set up,” Sophie says, handing Gabe a cue.
She breaks, a light tap that only separates three of the balls. It’s her style, she means business with the serious competition break.
Gabe leans over and blasts the white ball at the cluster of unbroken balls. They roll and spin around the table, bouncing off the bumpers and each other. Two solids sink. The three of us stand in silence, watching the balls rolling across the table. It seems to go on forever.
Finally the last ball comes to a standstill, and Gabe takes another shot, sinking another solid.
Sophie stands beside me and leans close to my ear. In a low voice, she says, “He’s quiet. Does he talk?”
“Of course.”
“At least we can enjoy the view when he’s bending over the table.”
Gabe looks back over his shoulder and smirks. I can’t resist the view any longer. I move to him and squeeze his butt.
“Hey, we’re not here to re-create your first time at a pool table together,” Sophie says, laughing.
“We could if you left,” I say, surprised at myself for not being embarrassed. I guess being with the two people I care most about relaxes me.
Gabe beats Sophie and the two of us play next. I’m ahead by two balls when my father calls us for dinner.
“This game isn’t over, we’re finishing it after dinner,” I say.
Gabe still hasn’t said much since we got here, and ignores the comment.
“Finally, I’m starving,” Sophie says and leaves the room.
“Let’s go,” I say, and run my hand across his back.
His heart is pounding, and my hand flinches in surprise. Gabe turns away from me. He moves to the door and stops. I assume he’s waiting for me to lead the way, and I hurry to him.
I take his hand to lead him to the dining room, and I wonder if I’m imagining his palm being sweaty.
Sophie is sitting at the end of the table instead of her usual spot. I guess so Gabe and I can sit beside each other. Neither of my parents is in sight.
“Have a seat,” I say, “I’m going to see if Mom and Dad need any help.”
I turn to go to the kitchen, and my dad appears holding a bowl of salad.
“Dad, finally. I’d like you to meet Gabe.”
Gabe stands, and my father places the salad on the table. Gabe sticks out his tattoo-covered right hand and my dad takes it.
“Welcome,” my dad says. Gabe nods, and sits back down.
A few seconds later, my mother walks through the doorway. She’s wearing oven mitts and carrying a hot casserole dish.
“Gabe, nice to see you,” my mother says, her eyes flicking between Gabe and my dad.
Gabe smiles and nods but says nothing. I sit down in the chair beside him, and run my hand over his thigh. He shifts in his seat, his feet fidgeting on the floor.
My mother spoons some of the beef casserole onto Gabe’s plate.
“Would you like more?” she asks.
“That’s enough,” Gabe says.
She scoops some casserole onto my plate and then onto Sophie’s. She carries on around the table and dishes out the casserole onto my father’s plate and hers. She repeats the entire process with the bowl of salad. Everyone sits in silence, watching her hands work.
Gabe’s knee bounces up and down, and I’m angry at my parents for not making him feel more welcome. It’s not like them, and I wonder if it’s because of all his tattoos.
Finally, my mother sits down and quietly says, “Let’s eat.”
I leave my hand on Gabe’s thigh, and pick up my fork. Sophie and my father start eating. Gabe doesn’t touch his fork. Neither does my mother. The food smells delicious, but the tension makes me lose my appetite.
“This is delicious,” Sophie says.
“It is. One of your best, Miranda,” my dad says, patting my mom’s shoulder.
Sophie and my dad chat as they eat, but I can’t follow the conversation. All I can do is look between Gabe and my mother and wonder why they aren’t eating. At least they’ve both picked up their forks, but I haven’t seen either take a bite.
“Gabe’s a great pool player, you guys should play doubles after dinner,” Sophie says to the table.
“Great idea,” I say, thankful Sophie has found a way to break the tension.
“Oh, I have to do the dishes,” my mother says.
“I’ll do them,” Sophie says.
My mother takes her first bite of food.
Gabe’s knee bounces faster. I give Gabe’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. I know everything will be okay once he gets to know my parents.
Gabe pushes his plate away, and says, “I can’t do this.”
32.Eloise
“I’m sorry, Eloise. I tried, I really did, but I can’t do this,” Gabe says as he stands.
“Gabe, please,” my dad says.
“It’s okay, it is. I promise,” I say, standing. “You just have to get to know them, is all.”
“Know them? They’re acting like they don’t know who I am.” Gabe’s voice is forceful, and I sink back into the chair, confused.
“You know them?” I ask.
Gabe turns to my mother, his eyes boring into her skull.
“I can’t believe you. I come to your house and you avoid me. I sit down and you pretend like I’m a stranger and that nothing ever happened,” he spits.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You think this isn’t hard for me?” my mother says, her voice quiet.
“Would someone tell me what is going on?” I ask, louder.
“Eloise, I wanted this to work. I really do, but your family is too important to you. You said so yourself. You can’t have a relationship with someone without them being involved with your family and I tried, but there’s no way this is going to work. I can’t walk in here and pretend everything’s okay when your mother is the reason my own mother is dead.”
Gabe takes my hand, and I scramble to get away from my chair. Tears form in my eyes and my body feels like it is crushed under a thousand pounds of cement.
He leads me to the front door, and I force my feet to move to keep up. My knees threaten to buckle with each step, and my mind is racing so fast I can barely concentrate on where I’m going.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask through my tears.
“I didn’t want you to feel bad. I was hoping I could pretend the past never happened, but I can’t. You’re wonderful and amazing, and you’re lucky to have a family who love you. That’s the most important thing in the world. I know, I used to have the same thing. But as much as I want to, I can’t see a future for us. I can’t deal with your parents, and you need them in your life. There’s no way around it.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes, desperate to see him clearly.
“Let’s go,” I say. I want to go with him, to clear our heads and figure out something.
Gabe shakes his head. “No, it’s better if I just go. We had a good time, let’s leave it at that.”
My body heaves with sobs as he opens the door.
“Don’t go.”
He lets go of the door, and my heart flutters with hope. Gabe draws me into him, and I let my body melt against him.
In a low voice, he says, “I’ve loved you since I was a little kid. I will always love you, but this isn’t meant to be.”
“Nothing’s ever felt so right,” I say, my voice pleading.
“It doesn’t matter how right it felt, it’s impossible. I refuse to ask you to give up your family and I can’t be near them without remembering how I don’t have a family because of them.”
“But…” I start but Gabe lets go of me and rushes out the door.
My legs collapse and I slump against the floor.
“Honey,” my mother says, crouching beside me.
“Why did he say those things? Why didn’t you tell me that you knew him? Why does he think his mom died because of you?” I begin to wail.
“Because she did,” my mother says softly.
A great welling of rage balls up in my stomach, and I erupt. “And you never felt the need to tell me that?”
“I missed the cancer.” My mother carries on talking but I don’t hear anything she says.
All I can think about is Gabe. He left. He left me and doesn’t want to see me again.
Can that be real? Did that really happen?
I push myself to my feet and open the door to leave. I step over the threshold and realize my car isn’t here. My heart sinks again, and I turn and, in a trance, walk to my childhood bedroom.
Slamming the door behind me, I collapse on the bed and pull the pillow over my head.
My body physically aches for Gabe. I’m desperate for his embrace, but all I can do is cry until my tears are drained.
There’s a light tap at the door, and it opens.
“I brought you your phone,” Sophie says gently.
I can’t move or say anything, but a sigh leaves my body. Sophie sets the phone beside me on the bed. She strokes my arm, and fresh tears fall from my eyes.
“I want to go home.”
“You are home.”
“But I want my own home. I want to be at Gabe’s home.”
“Honey, this will always be your real home.”
“Why didn’t he tell me about Mom? Why didn’t Mom tell me about his mom?” I ask, the anger fueling me enough to sit up.
“I don’t know. It sucks. Possibly because of patient confidentiality? Or maybe she thought she would never have to tell you.”
“He’s right, you guys are so important to me. How can I have a relationship with anyone who isn’t a part of my family?”
“At least he tried for you, he did his best and that’s something. But if he’s decided he can’t be around Mom then there’s nothing much you can do.”
Sophie pulls me into her arms and rubs my back. I let her comfort me. She’s right, this is my home. I can’t live without my family. But I also feel like I can’t live without Gabe. I could never choose between them. I guess that’s why Gabe chose for me.
I spend the next three days in my childhood bed, with Sophie waiting on me hand and foot. I started out texting Gabe every hour but he never replied. Now I’m trying to accept the situation, and I’ve only texted him once today.
My parents have poked their heads in the door and asked how I’m doing but they’re otherwise staying away from me. I don’t know why, I suppose they feel guilty. I hope they feel bad for not telling me. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. If I’d known, I would’ve brought him for coffee, not dinner. Everything would’ve been in the open, and maybe we all could’ve talked our way through this.
Right now I’m struggling to think of a reason to ever get out of bed again. I just want to hide in my family’s home. Forever.
I’m flicking through the pages on my Kindle, unable to concentrate on the words, when my mother comes in the room.
“How are you doing?” she asks, sitting on the bed beside me.
“Awful.”
“I guess that was a pretty big shock. You didn’t expect dinner to end the way it did.”
“You could say that. I can’t believe no one told me what was going on.”
“When you told me you were seeing him, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to come to terms with what happened to Rose Irwin.”
“Her name was Rose?” I ask, envisioning all the rose tattoos on Gabe’s chest.
“Yes. Why?”
“It explains all his rose tattoos.”
Her body tenses, and my mother looks like she’s going to say something. Instead a silence falls between us.
“I miss him,” I say and exhale sharply.
“I know you do, sweetie. He obviously meant a lot to you.”
“Means,” I correct her. “He means a lot to me, he always will. How am I supposed to go on? I know he loves me, he told me he loves me. But he said he’d never pull a child away from their parents, and that includes me.”
33.Gabe
My swollen knuckles are killing me, and I relax the grip on the tattoo gun. I spent the last five days pummeling the shit out of my punching bag.
I’d canceled all my appointments on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. It’s Friday today, and I figured I could use the distraction of working.
It’s the end of the day. There have been a few slips and mistakes but nothing I couldn’t cover up. Plus I haven’t exactly been gentle with the needle. There’s some satisfaction making grown men wince with pain.
“You’re done for today. You’ll have to make another appointment to finish off this spid
er,” I tell the burly guy in my chair.
“I thought you said it would be done today.”
“Look at this,” I say, holding up my battered right hand.
“Fuck, man. You been fighting?”
“Only myself.”
“Idiot.”
“Pretty much. Hey, Ryan, can you tell this guy about aftercare for what he’s had done today and book him in to get the rest done.”
“Sure, man,” Ryan says.
I stand and move through the door to our private staff area. There’s still some coffee in the pot and I pour it into my mug from this morning.
It’s lukewarm and bitter, but I chuck it down my throat anyway.
Both of my hands are stiff and painful. While I’ve been punching, I’ve been thinking of my left hand as the pain of Eloise and my right hand as the pain of my mother.
But I realized there’s only one root cause of all the pain, and that’s Eloise’s mother, Miranda.
It doesn’t seem to matter that it’s been fifteen years, my mom’s death seems to bubble along just under my surface. And seeing Eloise’s parents brought it bursting through the barrier. Now it seems like her death is fresh all over again.
It was stupid to go there and see them. I thought I could do it for Eloise. I wanted to do anything for Eloise, but the pain was too raw. And now I have the raw pain of losing Eloise on top of it.
No one has ever made me feel the way she does, and I know no one else will ever make me feel that way. When I’m with her, the pain of life fades into the background.
“Hey, where are you going? You can’t go back there,” Ryan shouts.
Eloise’s mother storms into the staff area. Her hair is half tied back and her clothes are disheveled.
“Gabe, I’m so glad I finally found you. We need to talk,” Miranda says.
“No, we don’t. Get the fuck out,” I say, slamming my mug onto the counter.
“For Eloise’s sake.”
“The best thing for Eloise is a clean break.”
“No, it isn’t, she’s been a wreck all week. She hasn’t even been able to leave my house.”
“Good, she needs her family.” I turn my back on her, wanting her to leave.
“What she needs is you.”
My throat tightens as I picture how upset Eloise was when I left her. Doing that to her crushed me. The last thing I want is to cause Eloise any pain. But I had no choice.
Raw Page 30
