by R. C. Martin
I feel mine slip as her meaning hits home. She reaches out and squeezes my arm and then returns to her work. Now antsy to see Lena, I look up at Coder and nod down the hall before we head in that direction. Lena’s door is open. As I peek my head inside, I see that Maribel is in the bed, her daughter resting under her arm as she lays pressed against her side. She’s awake, and they’re chatting softly as they play on Maribel’s tablet. I know, without even having to ask, that it’s some educational game. Lena, much like Sheamus, should be in school; but even though she’s stuck here, that doesn’t mean that Maribel doesn’t teach her the things that she can when Lena feels up for it. The hope in that dedicated effort is grand, and as I watch them for a second, I feel my own optimism rising a bit.
“Knock, knock,” I murmur, inching my way into the room.
Maribel gasps, patting Lena’s bottom lightly before she whispers, “Oh, my, Lena! Look who’s here.”
Lena turns her head just slightly, and my lungs constrict at the sight of her pale face. Judging by the feeding tube that’s hooked up to her arm, my guess is that her good days have still been incredibly hard days, and it breaks my heart, just like it always does. Nevertheless, she manages a small smile as she lifts her little hand to wave at me.
“Hi, Kenzie,” she says in her small voice.
“Hi, pretty girl.” Coder lets go of my hand, and I turn back to look at him in question. Placing pressure on the small of my back, he urges me forward with a wink, and I immediately understand his meaning. Turning back towards Lena, I close the distance between us, grabbing hold of the guard rail of her bed as I ask, “How are you feeling today?”
“Okay. My tummy still hurts.”
“Yeah, I bet. Saturday was a hard day, huh?”
“Yeah.” She pauses, looking behind me before she asks, “Who is that?”
“Good question, baby,” says Maribel, grinning at me. “He’s cute, huh?”
Lena giggles, looking up at her mother, and the sound fills me with great joy. When I feel Coder’s hand squeeze my shoulder, I twist my neck to see him standing just beside me, and then I wrap my arm around his waist, stepping closer to him as I say, “Lena, Maribel, this is Coder. Coder—Lena and Maribel.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says with a nod.
“I’ve heard lots about you, Coder. It’s a delight to put a face to a name.”
“Haven’t heard as much about you,” he says teasingly, “but I’ve heard loads about you.” He points at Lena, making her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. “You’re just as pretty as Mack said you were.”
“Who’s Mack?”
Laughing, I hold Coder tighter before I tell her, “That’s what he calls me, Lena. I’m Mack. But don’t ask me why,” I insist with a grin. “It’s a long story.”
She scrunches her face in confusion, making me laugh again, and then Maribel asks, “Not that it isn’t good to see you, but what brings you by today?”
My smile fades as my gaze lifts to align with hers. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she can read the answer in mine. “I was worried,” I admit. “I just wanted to check on her.”
Maribel nods, reaching up to stroke her daughter’s cheek as she murmurs, “She scared us all.” Leaning over, she kisses the top of Lena’s head, wrapped in a bright, multicolored scarf, and then looks at me and whispers, “I’m glad you came.”
Coder and I stay and visit with Lena and her mom for almost a half an hour. When a nurse comes in to check on her, we take our leave. I ask Coder if he’d like to meet some more kids, and he agrees before we start to make my usual rounds. Each and every child we visit is surprised to see me, and a few of them are quite disappointed when I tell them that I don’t have any books with me. Though, I manage to make up for it when I promise them that I’ll be back with some fresh stock on Saturday.
We’re down to just one more stop when Coder’s stomach starts to growl. I’ve been so focused on the kids, I forget that I haven’t eaten lunch yet.
“One more, and then food?” I ask him, giving his fingers a squeeze.
He squeezes back as he tells me, “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready. Don’t have to be back at the shop until four.”
“Okay,” I murmur, fighting the urge to reach up and kiss him for his patience. “I really want you to meet Sheamus.”
“After you,” he insists with a chin lift.
When we arrive at Sheamus’s room, we find him alone. He’s awake, his attention glued to the handheld game console that he’s got propped up in his lap.
“Hey, Shea,” I murmur as Coder and I make our entrance.
Just as he’s done in every other room, he lets go of my hand, allowing me to step forward as the familiar face that I am. Sheamus looks up at me and smiles. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve watched the color drain from his skin and the fat melt from his bones. It’s hard to watch, remembering how alive he was just last month. But when he gives me that smile, I know he’s having a good day—and I love good days; days where hope shines in his eyes, assuring me that he hasn’t given up his fight.
“Kenzie! What are you doing here? It’s not Saturday.”
“I know, right? It’s only Tuesday—but I missed seeing you on Saturday and I wanted to come say hi.”
“I missed you Saturday, too. I thought you forgot, but dad said you would never forget and that something must have happened.”
“Yeah. Lena—you’ve met her before—she was having a rough day.”
“Is she better?” he asks, his voice hitching higher at the end.
“She’s getting there,” I assure him with a nod.
“Who’s that?” Jumping topics in the blink of an eye, Sheamus points back at Coder.
“This,” I start to say, turning to catch a glimpse of my approaching man, “is my friend Coder. He’s hanging out with me today. I wanted him to meet you.”
“Coder, do you have a motorcycle? My uncle rides a motorcycle, and he has a coat like that. I like yours better, though.”
Coder chuckles before he replies, “Yeah, little man. I ride.”
“Do you have tattoos? My uncle—my uncle who rides a motorcycle—he has tattoos.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a tattoo,” he admits with a grin. “I designed it myself. It’s what I do for work—I give other guys tattoos.”
Sheamus’s eyes grow wide in awe, and I bite my lip in a failed attempt to quell my excitement at the scene that’s unfolding before me. This—this is male bonding at its finest.
“When I grow up, I want to be a teacher. Then I can go to school every day. And I’m going to drive a motorcycle. Can I see your tattoo?”
Coder looks at me, his eyes swimming in amusement as he mumbles, “I like this kid.” He then playfully covers my face with one hand, and I know he’s lifted up his shirt to show Sheamus his ink when Sheamus gasps.
“Whoa!”
Speaking through a laugh, Coder asks, “Cool, huh?”
“I want one just like that. When I grow up and ride a motorcycle, I’m gonna get one like you!”
“Yeah? That would be awesome. I could hook you up,” Coder tells him, lowering his shirt at the same time that he uncovers my eyes.
“Really? You promise?”
Sheamus looks to me as he speaks the words, and I can read his inquiry in just the one glance. To ensure Sheamus that I’ve heard him loud and clear, I tell Coder what he’s been hearing me say to all the kids, “Promises mean a lot around here. If you make a promise, you have to fight to keep it. That’s our deal.”
Coder’s eyes lock with mine, and I watch as his expression softens. He then studies me for a long moment, thinking I don’t know what, and then shifts his gaze back to Sheamus as he announces, “I promise. You come my way, I’ll hook you up.”
“Yes!” he exclaims, holding out the S in a hiss. He then leans back against his pillow as if he’s suddenly tired, and I get the impression that it might be time for us to cut our visit short. Before I can say as much, h
e reaches up and gently touches his knit cap. “Your hat is better than mine,” he mutters.
“Yeah? You think so?” asks Coder. Sheamus nods his reply. “My head’s a little bigger than yours. Think it would fit?” Before he even finishes the question, he’s removed his slouchy beanie. I step back as he approaches Sheamus, carefully removing the knit cap he’s wearing before fitting him in the beanie. Stepping back, he mutters, “That’s badass, little man.”
Sheamus says something in reply, but I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything.
My heart just took a nosedive, hurling itself over the barriers of time and logic, free falling toward one destination.
Love.
“How many kids did we see? Six?” asks Coder as we ride down the elevator after saying a quick goodbye to Pamela.
“Seven,” I correct, looking up at him. “Why?”
“Most of them were alone. I met, what, two parents?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, surprised that he would take note of such a thing. “They’ve got to work, you know? I see parents a lot on the weekends. Some of the little ones are lucky. Like Lena—her dad has an amazing job. He’s a bioengineer and makes good money. I mean, I’m sure the medical bills are still eating them alive, but they get by well enough that Maribel can spend as much time as she can with Lena. Then there are kids like Sheamus. He just has one parent. It sucks. Like, a lot; but Lance is around as much as he can be. I know he works from the hospital sometimes.”
“What about his mom? Where’s she?”
“She died giving birth to Sheamus.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Neither of us says a word as we get off of the elevator and make our way toward the exit. Just as the front doors hiss open and we step out into the cold, sunny afternoon, Coder speaks once more.
“I thought it was really nice of you—what you do for them every Saturday, reading to them. I thought it made you a kind, compassionate person.” He pauses, shaking his head before he goes on to say, “Mack—fuck, you kick ass. You should—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because I step in front of him and reach for his face before I pull him down for a kiss. As soon as our lips touch, I circle my arms around his neck, lift up on my tiptoes, and hold my body as close to his as I can get. When I open my mouth, he follows my lead, bending down a little more so that he can wrap his arms around my waist. He hugs me tight, and I thrust my tongue between his lips, kissing him deeper. I hold nothing back, needing him to feel everything that I’m feeling—everything that I can’t say.
I don’t care where we are. I don’t care who might see us. I don’t care how cold it is. All I care about is this very moment and the thank you I know no other way to express. I kiss him long, hard, deep, and wet. I kiss him until I can’t breathe, and then I kiss him some more. My heart aches as I try and pour myself into him, my whole body telling me that this isn’t enough. When I finally break our connection, I’m so overwhelmed with emotion, my eyes start to well up with tears.
“Shit,” Coder pants, his face so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of each exhalation as his breath brushes against my swollen lips. “What was that for?”
“No one has ever done this with me before,” I whimper, trying to get control of myself. “Besides my mom, nobody has ever wanted to come with me—no one has ever met the kids I’m so crazy about. But you…” I gaze into his deep, dark, soulful eyes, sliding a hand around to cup his cheek as I attempt to find my words. “You were amazing in there. All of them took to you so easily. And Sheamus—oh, my gosh,” I giggle. “He’s not going to want me to come back without you.”
“Babe,” he mutters, his tone and that smirk that makes my stomach clench telling me that he thinks I’m being ridiculous.
“Just…” I push myself up even higher on my tiptoes, reaching for another kiss. “Thank you for coming with me today. No—not just for coming with me. For—for being present and—”
This time, he cuts me off with a kiss. He nibbles on my bottom lip before he pulls away and tells me, “I got it, babe. And you’re welcome.”
I open my mouth to thank him one more time, but he beats me to it, closing his mouth around mine with a chuckle. “Babe,” he mumbles, our lips still pressed against each other. I giggle, knowing he’s trying to shut me up. “Food.”
“Mm’kay,” I mumble in reply.
He kisses me again before he asks, “If I stop kissing you, can we go?”
“Yes,” I laugh.
“You promise?”
Smiling against his mouth, I decide I’m not done thanking him just yet. Seeing as he won’t let me use my words, I give him one thing I’m sure he won’t refuse. More tongue.
The rest of my day is a blur. Even my shift at the drug store doesn’t bother me, the memories from my afternoon carrying me through the hours. I’m in such a good mood, I’m not even worried about running into Brooke when I get home after work. We haven’t spoken a word to each other since Sunday morning. I haven’t seen her face in just as long. It’s weird and bothersome, and I don’t like it one bit, but I refuse to let it get me down. At least not today.
When I enter the apartment, it’s after ten, just like yesterday; but unlike yesterday, it’s not dark and empty. The lights are on in the main room, but Brooke isn’t there. As I close the front door, I look over to her bedroom and see that she’s closed herself in again. Deciding to leave her be, I take two steps in the direction of my own room, and then I halt dead in my tracks at the sound of her voice.
“Oh—god!” she moans. My jaw falls open when I hear a grunt—a decidedly deeper, manlier grunt—followed by more of Brooke. “Fuck, yes!”
She goes on, but I can’t listen anymore. It’s embarrassing, and private, and embarrassing! I race to my room, wondering who is in there—wondering what possessed her to bring him here?
Brooke is no virgin, but she’s not a slut, either. Sure, she might make out with a lot of guys at a lot of parties, but she doesn’t spend the night with them. Usually, she requires a three date minimum before a guy is allowed in her pants. And in the time that we’ve been renting this apartment, she’s never made it past date number two. Given that we’re currently in the middle of a fight about Coder, it’s safe to say that I have no idea what’s going on here.
I stifle a groan when I enter my room, only to find that I can hear them better from in here. For a split second, I think back to Sunday morning, when Coder’s mouth was on me. I hope with everything that I am she couldn’t hear me like I can hear her.
Then again—I’m sure I wasn’t nearly as loud.
“Shit—shit, I’m going to come again!” she announces.
Desperate to get away from Brooke and whoever she seems to be enjoying very, very much, I snatch up my backpack, grab my notes from off of my bed, and bolt out of the apartment. I don’t even bother locking the door before I run all the way to my car. I toss my school stuff in the backseat, praying I have what I need for the morning, and then I jump in behind the wheel, my destination already decided.
Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on Coder’s front door.
“It’s open!” hollers Rigs.
I twist the knob, hesitantly peeking my head inside until I see Rigs, Piper, Mark, and Coder, sitting around on the mismatched couches of their main room, the TV turned to some movie I don’t recognize.
“What’s good with you, Mackenzie?” asks Mark, his gaze flicking toward me only for a second before he returns his attention to the screen.
“Yo, Mackenzie! Beer’s in the fridge,” calls out Rigs—always the gracious host.
“Babe—you good?” asks Coder, the only one whose attention is focused solely on me; the only one whose attention I want.
Walking toward him, I set my purse down beside the couch before reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ears. “Can I stay here tonight?”
He holds his hand out, and I wrap my fingers around his before he tugs me down into the
small space between him and the armrest. I readjust myself, so that I don’t feel squished, and he tucks me under his arm and against his side, making me feel right at home.
“Did something happen?”
“No—but—yes. Brooke is home, and she brought company and…” I don’t finish my sentence, my blush telling the rest of the story, making Coder smirk. I nudge him with my elbow, trying not to laugh as I repeat, “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Mack, not a question you ever have to ask. Got me?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my belly turning to mush. “I got you.”
“Good. Mouth, Mack.”
I tilt my head back a little bit more and pucker my lips. He leans down and gives me three chaste kisses. Then, because he’s Coder, he sticks his tongue out and licks my bottom lip before giving me one more closed mouth kiss.
“Hi, honey,” I say, smiling up at him, my voice soft so that only he can hear me.
“Hi, babe,” he replies with a smirk. “Want a beer?”
“No,” I tell him, resting my head on his shoulder. I kick my shoes off, propping my heels on the edge of the couch as I curl myself even deeper into his side. “I’m good.”
And I am.
I’m so good.
Life isn’t perfect.
These days, I have just as many questions as I have answers.
But right now, all I can think about is how grateful I am for this day.
I’m even more grateful for this man.
My man—the man that I’m pretty sure I love.
Brooke and I finally run into each other at the apartment the day after I go running for Coder’s. Neither of us speak as we make eye contact in passing, but it doesn’t feel like I thought it might. It’s certainly awkward, but the tension between us doesn’t feel so—heavy or painful. For me, I’m too busy trying not to remember what she sounds like when she’s having sex. As for the contrite look she sends my way, I can’t explain it, and she doesn’t. Yet, with both of us needing to head out for class, we don’t broach the elephant in the room.
