The Possibility of Us

by Unknown

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly. I watched the crab attempt to scamper away again. It was as gross and gangly as an alien. “But I’m not doing it.”

  “Hey, I caught it,” he insisted.

  Ben thought I was tough—tough enough to kill something alive. He didn’t understand I could never kill anything alive ever again.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” I joked, trying to get him to just take care of it.

  “I’ve never killed anything so big before,” Ben admitted, his voice soft. He turned the crab on its back, so its claws splayed around like it was having a seizure.

  “Me neither,” I said, as much the truth as it was a lie. The baby that had been inside me before I met Ben had been much smaller than the crab, but emotionally it had been huge.

  “I mean an ant or a spider, no problem,” Ben explained, staring at it, “but this has, like, meat.”

  I squinted. “It sort of looks like a spider.”

  He grimaced, gaping at it like he was hypnotized. “My brother would tell me to stop being a pussy and bash its brains in.”

  “My brother would kill it for me,” I confessed.

  When I’d stayed behind in California with Ben after Turning Pines, my brother hadn’t asked any of the parent-type questions: Where are you staying? How will you guys take care of yourselves? He’d just said, Be careful, about everything. His “everything” was in double italics, underlined, in quotation marks, and with a million exclamation points. He didn’t want to go through another day with me like the one we never talked about again.

  “It’s too bad neither of them is here to help us.”

  “You don’t have to kill it if you don’t want to,” I replied, trying to meet his gaze.

  “But you’re hungry.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t want this to, like, haunt you or anything.” I understood it was just a stupid crab, but it also wasn’t just a stupid crab. It was what that stupid crab represented. Once Ben did this, he became someone who could kill. It changed you. I knew in a much larger sense just how much.

  “Your starving haunts me more,” he said, touching my cheek.

  “Are you sure?”

  “We need to eat,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m going to go for the middle.” He took a deep breath and held it down with one hand. “Turn away.”

  I covered my eyes and bowed my head. I heard the sound of him stabbing it with his pocketknife—a squishy crack.

  “You can look,” he said. He stood up and hung the crab by one of its claws from a stick, dangling it over the fire like a marshmallow.

  “You’re not, like, going to become a fucking serial killer now or something, are you?” I hoped to make him laugh, trying to help him forget what he’d just done.

  “Only if you get a hankering for human.” He smiled.

  “It feels good to have you taking care of me,” I said, standing up, moving behind him, and putting my arms around his waist. His hair smelled like saltwater and sand.

  “It feels good to have you let me,” he responded.

  He leaned the stick up on a rock and turned to me. He put his hand firmly on my chin, held it there, letting me welcome his closeness, his warmth blazing hotter than the fire before he wrapped me up. The light from the flames mirrored the movement of his arms as his lips struck mine.

  I plunged into him, kissing him like I was flame and he was wood, our tongues igniting with a jolt. I wanted to engulf him as intensely as an inferno—burn as hot as one of the coals in the fire—send the surge running through my abdomen back to him.

  He pulled back, sealing his brown eyes onto mine. “I’ll take care of you for as long as you’ll let me, and even after that.”

  Would I be able to let him again?

  Would he even want to?

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben

  The sun made me think about Cassie now. Its bright persistence encased everything when we first woke up together in California and left us once we went to sleep.

  The morning would start with the sun hitting my eyes, and then Cassie would come into view, her face sleep-worn and soft. She’d be smiling up at me, waiting for a smile back. Our day would end with the last glimpse of her in light as the sun set, her blue eyes fighting to keep their glow as I held her until it was time for us to go to sleep.

  I liked to think about the time we were in the motel. Before anything started to fall apart. Before we ran out of money and patience, before we had to admit to each other we couldn’t do this anymore—the day we were hit with the tacit understanding it was time to go back to the real world and we chose to go without the other.

  The best thing about the motel, other than the private bathroom, was sleeping next to Cassie: her and me in that small bed, spooning together at night. Her back to my front, and me clasped on like I was her shell. Like I would protect her from everything, like I could protect her from everything.

  I know Drew doesn’t believe we never had sex, but we really didn’t. We did everything else, and I mean everything else. It was enough that I’d never pushed it, until one night when my need to be inside her roared through my blood like a wildfire.

  I slid my fingers from around her waist, slowly down to her stomach and her lower abdomen, feeling the butterflies underneath her skin the whole way. I put one finger on the button of her jeans. Wanting her surged through my every cell, a rush that could only be satiated by her. The raging hard-on she must have noticed through my jeans wasn’t hiding anything, either.

  I hummed into her hair, the back of her neck, trying to turn each follicle into a lightning bolt. I pictured my tongue on every part of her now covered in clothes. I would be her clothes, her skin, her everything.

  “Not yet,” she said to my advancing hands. “I’m sorry,” she added.

  “It’s okay.” I moved my arms back up to her waist, even though my body still wanted her desperately. I tried to turn myself off. I was moving a lot faster than she was prepared to.

  “I’m not a prude or anything,” she said, her words heavy in the darkness. “I’m just not ready.”

  I know some guys would have let go of her, turned away and sulked. I might have, too, if she were anyone else, but she was Cassie. So I just held her tighter and said, “I’ll be here when you are.”

  “Here in this motel room?” She laughed, her body vibrating against mine.

  “Sure,” I replied, even though I knew we really only had enough money for a few more nights.

  “I don’t know when I will be, though,” she said more softly, an octave above a whisper.

  “I’ll still be here,” I insisted, kissing her shoulder.

  “I think the cleaning crew will get pissed off eventually,” she said. “I’m pretty sure they don’t have a do not disturb because I’m waiting for someone to have sex with me sign.”

  “Are you saying I should make one?” I asked.

  She turned over to face me, put her hands in mine. Our bodies formed the letter M. A living, breathing symbol of the word we were too young to even utter—too afraid to even consider. Though it felt like forever was what we both wanted, we couldn’t begin to conceive of that far.

  “What if it’s a month from now?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “Still here.”

  “Six months?”

  “Still here.” I slid my face closer, so there was only air between our lips. “I might have a Vitamin D deficiency, but yeah, I’ll be here.”

  “A year?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  I paused. “A whole year without sex and stuck in this motel room?” I was trying to sound like I was joking, and of course I was to a point. We both were. But could she go a whole year without sex?

  Could I?

  “A year is a long time,” I said, more seriously, “but if you need a year”—I nodded—“I’ll wait a year.”

  “I don’t think I’ll really need that fucking long,” she said, moving her lips so close I could taste the wor
ds coming off of them. “I was just checking.”

  I held tightly to her hands. Even if I was her shell, it was clear she still needed more protection. “So we’re left with somewhere between six months and a year?” I asked.

  “I can’t know for sure,” she said, “but I can agree to that in theory.”

  “Come on, six months and one day!” I joked.

  “Keep on wishing,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, “it might come true.”

  She rarely talked about the reason why she took things so slowly—Aaron, the guy she was with before me. The guy I had to prove I was nothing like before she would believe in me. Be with me.

  Aaron was the guy who Cassie had described as poking at her heart with twenty-thousand acid-soaked metal toothpicks. She never told me exactly what had happened between them, but I knew it had to be bad. Awful enough it had taken her almost a month to finally kiss me, and now it seemed more than six months to have sex with me.

  “If you ever want to tell me what happened, I’ll listen,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking down, “but it’s not exactly a gather ’round the fucking fire type of story.”

  “Well if you want to,” I said, pushing her chin back up, “I’m here.”

  “I know. I heard you’re waiting to have sex or something.” She smiled again.

  “Rub it in, why don’tcha?”

  I put my arms around her. She nuzzled into my shoulder and I squeezed her tight. Tight enough I hoped I could eventually squeeze the words out of her like they were the last bit in a tube of toothpaste.

  We lay together, as the moon turned back into the sun again. Her breathing even as she fell asleep in my arms, which that night felt better than any words.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cassie

  I woke up to the squeak of something being wheeled next to me. I made two fists and jumped—my typical reaction to a surprise—when I saw Ben’s smiling face above me with a metal tray of steaming eggs, toast, and coffee at his side.

  “What time is it?” I croaked.

  “Six,” he said. “I wanted to give you breakfast in bed before you left.” He paused and turned to the pile of dirty plates from the night before, frowning slightly. “I guess it doesn’t seem as grand a gesture as I’d hoped.”

  I started laughing, but it made my stomach ache. “I’m still so full,” I said, lying back down and holding myself around the waist for emphasis. It was sweet, though. He was still trying to take care of me, even here, even now.

  “How about just some coffee?” he suggested, pouring a cup.

  I nodded, still under the covers.

  He handed it to me, poured another cup for himself, and sat next to me on the bed.

  I didn’t flinch at his presence. Not when he held the mug out for me or leaned backward against my waist as he took a sip of his own. We were finding our way back to each other in inches, in millimeters. In letters that became words, in breaths that became sighs.

  I sat up and took a sip, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “I wonder if Laura and Drew are having coffee right now.”

  “He’s not really the breakfast-in-bed type,” Ben said, his voice hoarse with sleep.

  “Even when his brother is paying for it?”

  He laughed. “Well, he’d still have to think of it, and I just don’t think he would.”

  “What type is he, then?” I asked, taking a long drink. “Actually, never mind,” I said, putting one hand up to stop him from answering. “I already know.”

  “He’s not so bad.”

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” I spit.

  “Oh,” he said slowly, “you mean what he did to me?”

  I opened my eyes wide. “Um, yeah.”

  “He’s my brother.” He shrugged. “He might suck, but he’s all I’ve got, and I’m all he’s got.”

  I knew what he meant. It’s how things were with my brother and me, too. My mouth twisted. “I guess you get a pass, but what the hell does Laura see in him?”

  “Escape,” Ben said. “He’s good at making you forget yourself. I mean, if he can do that for me, I can’t imagine what he can do to a girl.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to imagine. Not at all.”

  “Sorry.” His cheeks flushed. “I guess I don’t, either.”

  “I just hope Laura knows what she’s doing,” I said, taking another sip of coffee. “She’s so different now.”

  “I think she’s kind of good different.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed, “except about this.” I was saying that, but what was my real issue with Drew? With them being together? Maybe I just hated how much easier it seemed for them. How they were in the honeymoon phase and Ben and I were…

  “There’s no exception to being a better person, Cassie,” Ben said, interrupting my thoughts. I was glad. I didn’t want to attempt to think about what phase we were in.

  “There is when you’re being fucking stupid,” I replied, my voice rising without my even meaning to.

  “We’re all stupid sometimes,” he said.

  I pushed my lips together, unsure how to reply. Clearly he was talking about us. We had been stupid. Considering we were now playing house without the house, we were still being stupid.

  “Last night was fun,” Ben said, kicking one of his legs against the side of the bed in a beat, like a timer, waiting for me to agree.

  “Don’t worry about changing the subject abruptly or anything.” I laughed and quickly cleared my throat.

  “What? You didn’t have fun?” he asked in his Ben way, his way of calling me to account.

  “Until it came time for Pepto, I actually did,” I admitted.

  “You’ll be happy to know Drew paid for that, too,” Ben said.

  “Then even that part was fun,” I replied.

  “Speaking of,” he said, looking around the room, “is there any left?”

  I nodded and pointed to the dresser. He walked over and took a long swig. The pink of the bottle reminded me of the frosting on a little girl’s cupcake.

  “How pissed is Drew going to be about all this?” I asked.

  “Very.” Ben put the bottle down. “You think he’s an asshole now? Just wait.”

  “What’s next, ‘super asshole’?”

  “Probably ‘mega-asshole,’” he said, making the gesture of a sign being hung with his hands, “but it was worth it.”

  “You can blame it on me if you want,” I said, pulling the pillow onto my lap. “I mean, he hates me already.”

  “No,” Ben said, shaking his head, “I’m going to blame it on me. As you know, he owes me anyway.”

  I saw Ben’s hair reflected in the mirror. It made me wonder if his reflection was talking to another Cassie. If maybe, in that reverse world, things between them weren’t so complicated. Because things between us still were. Still would be, free room service or no free room service.

  “Is that why he came with you this weekend?” I asked, knowing no one wanted to attend a funeral if they didn’t have to.

  He shook his head and leaned back against the dresser. “I thought I would need him.”

  “For what?” I asked quickly. “Creating a city-wide chlamydia outbreak?”

  “No,” Ben said, looking down.

  I looked at his reflection again. I guessed things weren’t going any better in the mirror; complicated was complicated no matter what side of the glass you were on.

  “Oh, right,” I said sarcastically. “You knew I was going to be here.”

  His brown eyes looked dejected, like my words had physically attacked them.

  “It’s been good to see you, though,” I said, the finiteness of my comment making my heart fall. But what was I supposed to say?

  “It has,” he said, sitting next to me again and taking a long drink from his coffee cup. “Almost too good,” he admitted.

  “What makes it too good?” I asked.

  “Knowing it might only last for one
more day.”

  My heart became cement, hurtled up to my throat, choking me. Like I needed a fucking reminder.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben

  We rode down to the lobby in the elevator side by side to go outside for a cigarette. The ride took twelve breaths, fifteen foot taps, and one head scratch. It was still early and the desk was empty when the elevator doors opened.

  When we walked out the front door of the hotel, the sun was just coming up over the snowbanks, making them sparkle like they were filled with diamonds the size of salt granules.

  “What a great fucking day for a funeral,” Cassie said sarcastically as she lit her cigarette. She squinted from the glare.

  “At least the sun’s out,” I said, lighting my own.

  In some ways, it seemed like the sun had come out for us, too, but I’d learned in California sun wasn’t permanent. Clouds rolled in. Sometimes so many you forgot the sun ever existed.

  “Like I said,” she replied.

  I watched her take a long drag. I think Rawe would have liked that the sun was shining today. Not that I knew for sure. Once you were dead, did you want it to be nice for the people who had to be on earth without you? Or did you want them to suffer like you now had to because you were without them?

  I think my father would have wanted it to be nice for us, though I could barely remember his funeral. Ten years and unexpected trauma can do that to a brain. He died from a heart attack. One minute, he was making us grilled cheese sandwiches, and the next he was on the floor of the kitchen and my mother was calling 911.

  The final flutter of his heart was when I became my brother’s keeper and he became mine.

  “I don’t think Rawe is going to give a shit,” Cassie added. Her eyes looked far away.

  “Yeah, probably not,” I said. She clearly thought differently than I did, and it wasn’t worth arguing. Our feelings on life and death weren’t something I wanted to debate, especially when we were starting to get along again.

  “Today is going to fucking suck,” she said, watching the cigarette smoking in her hand.