by Amber Garza
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks.
I snort. “You may regret asking that.”
“I doubt it.”
Nodding, I sweep my arm out. “Enter at your own risk.”
Winking, Colt steps around me. “I’ll take my chances.” His gaze sweeps the entry way, his eyes traveling up the staircase. He whistles. “Nice place.”
I follow his gaze, trying to imagine what he sees when he looks at the mahogany banister, hardwood floors and designer paintings mounted to the wall. My dad’s a financial planner and he makes good money. There was a time when I felt lucky because of this. But when Mom got sick I remember wishing we could trade in all our money for Mom’s health. Silly I know. Clearly life doesn’t work that way.
“It’s a home,” I say, walking past him and entering the family room. His nearness causes my pulse to spike as he follows behind me. Mom decorated our family room in all antiques. Every time I step into it, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time. I plop down on the couch, tracing the dull colored pattern with my fingers. Colt takes the seat next to me, propping his elbow up on the arm rest with its gold etching.
“What’s going on, McAllistor?” Colt shifts so his face is angled toward mine.
I swallow hard. Am I really going to discuss this with Colt? He’s practically a stranger. My mom’s illness is not something I readily share with people. In fact, I didn’t even tell Jon or Bud. I just told them my family was dealing with a personal crisis. So, when Colt said that Jon wouldn’t tell him, it’s because Jon doesn’t know. Something about the boy sitting next to me covered in piercings and tattoos makes me want to open up. Maybe it’s the sadness that always lingers in his eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that he keeps seeking me out even though I keep pushing him away. But I suspect it has more to do with the connection I feel to him, the magnetic pull I feel toward him no matter how hard I try not to. It’s like we’re bound together, tied by some invisible string.
I wring my hands in my lap, studying the lines in my palms intently. “My mom’s sick,” I blurt out, still not looking up from my hands. “She has cancer.”
Colt lets out a tiny gasp, as if my news has caught him off guard. It probably has. Most likely he thought I was going to say I was having woman issues or something. I still can’t bring myself to look at him, and I half expect him to stand up and high tail it out of here. But instead, I feel the slop of the couch as he scoots closer. By the time I dare to lift my head, his face is so close to mine our lips almost touch. Our knees bump together, the bare skin charged.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“She had it once before, several years ago. But she’s been in remission. We thought she’d beaten it, you know?” I let out a sad laugh, in an effort to stop myself from crying. “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t even imagine a life without my mom. And I feel like no one else gets it.”
“I get it.”
I stare into his eyes, at the genuineness inside. “You do?” My nose sounds stuffy, my voice strained. “Is your mom sick too? Is that why you live with your aunt?” Panic washes over me and I slap a hand over my mouth, sickened by my own words. “Oh no, please don’t tell me that your mom passed away.”
He shakes his head, despair evident on his face. “No. My mom has a different kind of disease. It’s called the disease of not wanting to be a mom. She left us voluntarily.”
I can’t even imagine my mom abandoning me. At least I know my mom is fighting to stay with me. And when she does leave us, it won’t be because she wants to. As I stare at Colt’s sad face I wonder which one is worse. Is it worse to have a mom who loves you more than life itself ripped away by a stupid disease? Or is it worse to have your mom discard you like trash? I suspect they’re both difficult in their own way.
“Oh, Colt.”
“Hey.” He puts up a hand. “I didn’t come here to talk about my problems. I came for you.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out the words.
Colt’s forehead scrunches into a mess of squiggly lines. “Um…Paige. I want to…you know.” He shifts in his seat and holds out his arms. “Hug you.”
I’m caught off guard. “Okay.” I draw the word out slowly, unsure of why he’s being so weird about it.
“Okay,” he repeats in a serious tone. Then he moves slowly forward, his arms hovering around my body before closing hesitantly around my waist. When they tighten around me, I lower my head onto his shoulder and nestle into him, sighing.
“I’m not very good at this,” he says into my hair.
“Hugging?” I press my head into his shoulders, inhaling his spicy scent.
“Just affection in general, I guess. My mom and dad weren’t exactly affectionate people.”
“Well, it doesn’t show. You’re doing great.” My fingers find the edge of his shirt and I grip the fabric in my hand. His arms feel good around me, and I savor the feeling of being comforted. I tell myself I will remain strong, that I won’t cry.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Colt says as if reading my mind.
One lone tear slips down my cheek. I want to wipe it off, but I don’t want to let go of Colt, so I just let it fall. It lands on my chest and pretty soon another one follows. Colt’s hand rakes up my back, massaging it the same way my mom used to do when I was little. Now the tears are streaming down and I don’t bother fighting it anymore. I just let them come. I let them fall until I feel that I must not have any more liquid left in my body. My throat hurts and my stomach feels empty when I pull back from Colt.
He searches my face, his own features softer than before. His hand reaches up and he wipes my tears with the pads of his thumbs. Each stroke feels like the kiss of an angel. “Are you real?” I lift my hand and touch his shoulder.
“What?” He looks at me in disbelief.
“It’s just that you showed up at just the right moment. Out of nowhere. Like an angel.”
“I don’t believe in angels. And even if they are real, trust me, I’m not one.” Colt pulls back, and I curse myself for saying that. What a stupid thing to say. Maybe Jon’s dumbness is rubbing off on me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my gaze darting to the floor.
“Hey.” He tucks his finger under my chin and forces my head up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. If my mom had allowed herself to cry, hell, if she allowed herself to feel any emotion, then maybe things would’ve turned out differently for us.”
“What happened with her?”
“Nice try, but I told you that I didn’t come here to talk about me. That story is for a different day.”
I nod, too tired to argue.
“What do you need from me?”
“Can you keep holding me?”
He takes a deep breath. “I haven’t touched anyone but my brother and sister for years, and now it seems like I’m going to get a lot of practice all in one day,” he says with a laugh.
“I guess we’re both forced outside of our comfort zone right now.”
“It seems that way. Huh?” He opens his arms and I sink into them. “Maybe together we’ll get through this.”
I nod, my chin rubbing against his chest, and allow myself to believe his words. I cling to them like prophecy. We will get through this.
TWELVE
COLT
Paige is in my arms, and I’m not hyperventilating. I’m holding her. I’m comforting like a normal person; like a person who isn’t broken or damaged. Like a person who isn’t ruined beyond repair. I don’t know what she’s done to me, but every time I’m with her I feel the old Colt slipping away, just like a snake sheds his skin. And this new Colt, the one under the scaly flesh, is different, softer. That probably is a good sign that it’s time to run away, to get as far from her as possible. But oddly enough, I don’t have any desire to do that.
I swirl my hands up her back, her hair tumbling over my fingers, soft and light. Her breath fans over my chest, and she presses her cheek into my shoulder. She looked so vulnerable after she’d be
en crying - more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. It reminded me of how Zander looked the first time I had to leave him. I think that’s why it was so natural for me to wipe her tears. I’m scared of a lot of emotions, but for some reason sadness isn’t one of them. No, sadness is familiar to me like the leather jacket I’ve worn for years. I embrace tears and despair. It's happiness that gets under my skin, and makes me think I might break out into a case of hives. Because I don’t understand joy; I don’t understand giddiness and laughter. It makes me feel like I’ve been left out of some inside joke. But tears don’t cause me to run away like a lot of guys. I’ve seen enough tears in my lifetime to fill the ocean.
Paige’s heart beats quickly against my chest. My breath is coming out more labored, my pulse quickening the longer I touch her, the longer I hold her. I want more. I want to touch her everywhere. I want to kiss her, to feel her lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth. It makes me feel like a pervert. I shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not when she’s so upset.
But when she peers up at me, her colorful hair falling into her face, I see the same longing reflected in her eyes. She parts her lips slightly, bright lipstick smeared across them. Black mascara rakes down her pale cheeks and her eyes are red. Yet she still looks so pretty to me. I graze her cheek with the back of my hand, honing in on how her soft skin feels on my knuckles. Tuning out every thought and every sound around us, I trail my fingers over her moist cheeks, down her chin and over her lips. I want to be in this moment, to savor every second. This has never happened to me before, and I don’t ever want to forget it. When this ends, I want to be able to close my eyes and imagine this day over and over again. I memorize every ridge, bump and nuance of Paige’s skin, the way it feels on the pads of my fingers. Her eyelids flutter and I take a mental photograph of her face in this very instant, tucking it away for later.
Her lips purse. I swallow thickly. My hand is curved around her throat, and our lips our so close that if I move forward an inch they will touch. I want nothing more. With my heart hammering in my ears, I tilt my face downward. She angles hers upward ever so slightly. In fact, it’s so subtle I hardly notice it. But I do, and I take it as an invitation.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
I ignore the sound, assuming it’s my heart knocking around in my chest. But then Paige’s head yanks in the direction of it, and I realize it’s not in my body. It’s the front door. I exhale, slumping against the couch as Paige stands up to answer it. It’s probably for the best. Kissing her will only end in heartache for both of us.
From where I sit on the couch, I can’t see Paige when she enters the foyer, but I hear the door as it swings open. A girl’s voice speaks.
“Hey, Paige. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Paige responds, and then I hear footsteps and the click of the door as it closes.
“Are your parents home?” the other girl asks.
“No,” Paige responds. “They’re at the doctor’s.”
When Paige re-enters the family room, she is with a dark haired girl. The girl’s eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me, and she gives Paige a questioning look. I jump up and walk toward her, extending my hand.
“Hi. I’m Colt.”
There is recognition in the girl’s eyes, and it gives me satisfaction. Paige must’ve told her about me. She shakes my hand. “I’m Hadley.”
I pull my hand back and shove it into my pocket. “Paige has told me about you.”
“Really?” Hadley raises an eyebrow in a challenging look that reminds me of Paige. They look nothing alike. Hadley’s pretty but in a very plain way. Her hair is sleek and long, hanging naturally down her back, and she wears jean shorts, a pink v-neck shirt and silver sandals. Nothing very exciting about her outfit, nothing to make her stand out. In fact, she’s not even wearing any jewelry, unlike Paige who could stock a jewelry store with all that she’s got on. “What have you heard about me?”
“I told him what a pain in the ass you are.” Paige elbows her friend in the side, and Hadley giggles.
“I’m glad to see your sense of humor is intact.” Even though Hadley is joking with her, I can see seriousness in her expression. Paige reaches for her friend, and Hadley grabs her hand, holding tight. There is an unspoken bond between these two, and it makes me feel lost and empty. Will I ever have that? For the first time in my life, I want it.
Hadley turns her light brown eyes on me. “So, Colt, what are you doing here?”
“I just came to check on Paige.”
She smiles. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah.” I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “But I should probably get going.” Quickly, I skirt around them and head to the door.
“Colt,” Paige stops me.
I turn around. She steps away from her friend and toward me. Something about the gesture causes my insides to soar.
“How can I get a hold of you? You know, other than by just showing up at your house? Do you have a cell phone or something?”
“Um…no. I don’t. But my aunt has a landline. Want the number?”
She nods.
“Here. I’ve got a pen.” Hadley reaches in the purse that’s hanging over her shoulder and pulls out a black pen. She thrusts it toward me.
When I take it between my fingers, Paige holds out her palm. Smiling, I grip it with one hand while writing on it with the other hand. I scribble the numbers the best I can. Then I blow on it so it’ll dry.
Paige laughs. “That tickles.”
I toss the pen back to Hadley and surprisingly she catches it. Then I look back at Paige. “Talk to you later, McAllistor.”
Paige nods as she opens the door for me. When I step outside I feel like a completely different person than when I first walked in.
“Colt,” Aunt Callie calls from the kitchen. “Phone’s for you.”
I glance at Zander who sits next to me on the floor in the family room. We’re building a tower with leggos and it leans to the side like a deformed rainbow. “Be right back, champ.” I touch the tip of his nose and he smiles.
“Kay,” he mumbles, reaching for a red block.
Scrambling up off the ground, I hurry into the kitchen. Aunt Callie holds the phone out to me, a funny grin on her face. “It’s a girl,” she whispers.
I nod like this is news to me. Even though I already knew it was Paige. She’s the only person I gave the number to. After taking the phone from Callie, I press the receiver to my ear and face the wall.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey, Colt,” Paige responds. “The phone number worked.”
“Did you think it wouldn’t?”
“Dunno. I guess I was afraid I scared you off yesterday with all my blubbering.”
I weave the phone cord around my finger, wondering why Callie insists on living in the past. Why doesn’t she have a cordless phone like everyone else? I can practically feel her listening. Sure she’s standing over the stove making pancakes, but I can tell what she’s really doing is eavesdropping. I silently pray that Bristol will wake up from her morning nap, so Callie will be forced to leave the room. Moving closer to the wall, I wish I could magically hide inside of it.
“Nope. You didn’t,” I finally say.
“Good, because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the lake with me today.”
“The lake?”
“Yeah. Hadley and her boyfriend Tripp are going and she’s begging me to join them. I would just say no, but my parents are practically forcing me to go. They think it’ll be good for me.”
Jealousy snakes around my heart, squeezing hard. Must be nice to have parents who put your needs ahead of their own. Then I remember that her mom is sick and I feel like a jerk. “Um…yeah. Sure. I don’t have a suit though.” I had one back home, but I didn't think to bring it when we came to stay with Aunt Callie.
“Well, I’d let you borrow one of mine but I doubt it would fit.” Paige giggles. “Could be fun to try, though.”
I love that she’s laughing
. I love that she sounds happy. Sadness may be familiar to me, but I still hated seeing Paige that way. If anyone in this world deserves to be happy it’s that girl.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say.
“We could skinny dip,” she offers, and I freeze. Then I hear a slight chuckle and realize she’s joking. Of course she is. Why would I even think she was serious?
“Don’t tempt me,” I banter back.
“Can you really be tempted that easily?”
“You have no idea.” I rest my head against the wall, knowing that we need to get off of this topic. My mind is going to places it shouldn’t. “What time are we going?”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Sounds good.” I hang up and swing around to find Callie staring at me.
“Who was that, Colt?”
“Paige.” I run a hand over my head. “We work together. We’re just friends.” I have no idea why I feel the need to clarify this to Callie. “Is it okay if I go to the lake with her today?”
“Of course.” Steam rises from the top of the stove and a burnt smell permeates the air. “Oh, crap.” She whirls around and pries a black pancake from the skillet. “Guess that one’s going in the trash.” After dropping it in the garbage can, she wipes her brow.
“I don’t have to go if you would rather I stay home and help out.”
“I’m fine. It’s Saturday and you don’t have to work. You should go have fun with your friend. Besides, I thought I’d take Zander and Bristol to the zoo today.”
“Okay.” I spin on my heels. Then I glance back over my shoulder. “Thanks, Aunt Callie.”
She smiles, and it makes her look younger. “Sure. Oh, and Colt?”
“Yeah?” I lean against the doorframe.
“I think I have some swim trunks you can use if you want.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Aunt Callie? Is there something you need to tell me?”
She laughs. “I haven’t always been an old maid, you know? I used to have a boyfriend. He was a complete asshole, but his sense of style wasn’t so bad. And when I kicked him out I didn’t really let him take his stuff. There’s a box in the hall closet. I’m sure there’s swim trunks in it.”
