Heart in a Box

by Ally Sky

  "I don't know how to stop being mad at you," I almost whisper.

  "I understand that. I also know that maybe, under this hatred, you still love me, even if just a little. But you will never find out if you don't lay your anger aside for a few moments and peek in. If you don't dare, all you'll be left with is bitterness. Is that the life you want? "

  "The life I want, you took away," my voice cracks.

  "I'm offering it back." The light in his eyes floods me with memories. This is how he looked at me once, when we were still happy.

  "It's easy to talk." I'm struggling with all my strength against the will to cry. Almost ready to scream at him and beat his chest with my fists until my power drains. I want to burst in tears and curse him for the hell I've been through, for the white dress I burned in my mom's yard, for the shame and guilt.

  "I'm not talking, Liz, I'm doing," he sees the storm in my eyes, "and I'll continue to do so, because I've been taught to fight for whats important. I've been taught that failure is out of the question. Tomorrow at eight."

  "No," I whisper without taking my eyes off him.

  "Comfortable clothes and a babysitter."

  "You never listen." What is it with him?

  "Tomorrow at eight."

  "Colin," I try to make my voice steady.

  "I think it's time to cut the cake," he cuts me off, before I can make it clear that he is wasting his time. "I'll get a knife." He turns his back on me, ignoring my refusal and moving away toward the house, without letting me say the last word.

  "What was that?" Colin's conversation with me didn't go unnoticed by my nosy mom.

  "He's not normal, I swear, he's lost it completely." I still stand frozen in the same place, my legs planted.

  "What did he do now?" She doesn't get excited.

  "He thinks we're going out."

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow," I exhale obnoxiously, "and he wants me to get a babysitter. I have no idea what he's up to."

  "So what time should I pick up Viv?" She interrupts me with her unnecessary offer.

  "Mom!" I scold her, as I've been doing for weeks.

  "And do yourself a favor," she continues in spite of my protests, "shave. God only knows what your legs look like after all this time." She's almost as insane as he is.

  "He's not coming anywhere near my legs!" What does she think? How do these ideas get into this woman's head?

  "Sure, sure." She responds nonchalantly. "Not coming near your legs . . . Shave!"

  "Mom." My voice is shaking like a leaf barely hanging on the branch of the tree, as if any tiny breeze will tear it away.

  "I know," she manages to sound a little more empathetic to my situation, "you're afraid. You don't want to take a risk, he hurt you. But I'm telling you that the moment has come, and if you don't decide now, he'll move on and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

  "You're all joined against me," I breathe in frustration.

  "You're welcome to take Dad's side," she says, proving me wrong. "He'll be very happy, but you'll be miserable, and let me tell you something, your father is not very happy at the moment, at the hotel."

  "Are you really not going to forgive him?" My voice trembles at the idea that my parents' marriage is over.

  "It's too early to think about it," she answers in a steady tone. She’s trying so hard to hide from me how painful it was to part. "He crossed the line and thought he could run your life."

  "Like you do?"

  "I'm just advising you, and if you're smart, you'll listen to me and my experience and you'll shave."

  Maybe I shouldn't shave. If my legs remain in their unimpressive condition, there is a chance that I won't let Colin come near.

  "Go out with him." She puts her hand on my forearm. "Listen to him and look him in the eyes, the truth will be there. Your past and the pain caused don't have to destroy what can be."

  Our conversation is interrupted by the birthday girl's glee, and all eyes turn to her and to her father who hoists her in the air like an astromaunt, like a princess, like a fairy tale with a 'happily ever after'. She is radiant, and the life she deserves is within reach. I'm the only one standing between her and the normal, perfect family she can have. I'm the one standing with her feet planted on the ground in the middle of a five-year-old’s birthday party, my cheeks wet with tears.

  Chapter 22

  Colin Young: I saw you crying.

  Elizabeth Heart: Like that was a first. You've seen me cry a hundred times.

  Colin Young: I love you.

  Elizabeth Heart: Stop saying that. Your words mean nothing.

  Colin Young: Don't lie. You can be as angry as you want, even hate me, but don't lie.

  Elizabeth Heart: What do you know about love?

  Colin Young: I know what it's like to lie in a tent and not know if I'll return home in one piece or in a coffin, and the only picture I have in my head is your face, your smile. I know what it's like to pray to God to let me stay alive just to see you again.

  I push away the thought of Colin lying in a dusty tent and the noise of the bombs that insist on humming inside my head.

  Elizabeth Heart: You always knew how to buy me with your words.

  Colin Young: I'm the same guy who asked you to marry him in the park. Have I changed? Probably. But inside you know I'm still the guy you love.

  Elizabeth Heart: So sure of yourself . . .

  Colin Young: Why didn't you get married again?

  Elizabeth Heart: Are you serious?!

  Colin Young: A smart girl like you, funny, beautiful. How many suitors did you have?

  Elizabeth Heart: Zero. Zero suitors in five and a half years.

  Colin Young: You're lying.

  I don't know if the other guys can be called suitors. I went on a date a year ago and one with the doctor. Two guys who showed interest, and none of them made any progress, mainly because of me. What if he’s right? What if I haven’t let my heart forget him all this time?

  Elizabeth Heart: I'm not like you. I didn't jump from bed to bed for a little warmth and lust, I wanted more.

  Colin Young: You wanted me. Admit it Elizabeth, you wanted me.

  Elizabeth Heart: Go to hell.

  Colin Young: Do you even know what hell looks like?! Because I can tell you! Broken limbs, good people who bleed to death in your arms and IED's that throw the vehicle in front of you five meters in the air. That's what it looks like, Elizabeth. Welcome to Hell!

  There's no way he could get out of that the same person. I know the stories. I've heard on the news how terrible it is. I'm afraid to think how many scars he returned with.

  Elizabeth Heart: You preferred this hell over me, over your daughter. Did you even ask for her forgiveness, did you apologize for abandoning her? Or do you think that if you spend your money and build a kingdom for her in the back yard for four hours, everything will be forgotten?

  Colin Young: Are you done?

  Elizabeth Heart: I haven't started yet.

  Colin Young: Excellent. We can continue on our date tomorrow.

  He's suffering from a head injury. That would explain his behavior.

  Elizabeth Heart: You know what, no problem. Come tomorrow at eight and we'll continue from exactly the same spot.

  Colin Young: After we kiss.

  Elizabeth Heart: We are not going to kiss!

  Colin Young: Look, I understand that maybe it's a little early for sex, but we'll definitely kiss. It will be good for your anger.

  Elizabeth Heart: It'll be good for your ego!

  Colin Young: My tongue will be in your mouth, and my hands will hold your hair and pull your head back. Your breathing will go fast, until you feel dizzy. We both know what will happen between your legs, but I will refrain from detailing at this point.

  Jesus Christ, what is it with this talk? And why does it turn me on?

  Elizabeth Heart: Stay away from my mouth, Colin. I'm serious.

  Colin Young: We're going to kiss tomorrow
, Elizabeth. Good night.

  I'm seventeen again. Like the first day he came and knocked on the door. I'm seventeen with a short-circuited brain and . . . granny panties. I feel like dying! My mom picked Vivian up half an hour ago, which has left me plenty of time to stand in front of the mirror and curse every outfit I own. Our bedroom looks like it suffered a tornado. The contents of my entire closet are lying on the bed and on the floor when knocking on the door makes me jump. I let out a loud sigh, collect my hair with a hair band and remind myself that if he says one word about how I look, the night will be over. I open the door and meet Colin's smug look, as he raises an eyebrow and lets his eyes wonder down my body without a drop of shame.

  "Comfortable enough in your opinion?" I protest, while he tilts his head to one side and makes a growling noise.

  "Turn around," he instructs me authoritatively.

  "Come on . . ." Stop playing.

  "Turn around," he demands again, and it is clear to both of us that we won't budge from here until I cooperate. I turn around and hope he will finish with his nonsense soon.

  "Your ass looks great in those jeans," he mutters, "I approve."

  "Where did you get that mouth from?" I finish the round just to meet his eyes again.

  "It came with my amazing muscles." He laughs and, without missing a beat, pulls his shirt up and gives me a glimpse of his crazy muscular abs. "They're really amazing, don't you think?"

  "Take off your shirt," I demand, swallowing saliva awkwardly, my mouth getting wet from the sight in front of me. His muscles are not human. He fulfills my request, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it forward with the obvious intention of removing it.

  "No!" I almost scream, "I meant fix it!"

  Not to lose it. God, if he got naked I would drool.

  "Oh," he answers with false naivety, arranging his shirt instead, "my mistake."

  "Those muscles got me in trouble once, it won't happen again." I take my keys out of my bag, and Colin moves aside as I close the door and lock it behind me.

  I pray that we'll survive the evening. Really, I don't have great demands, I just want to get some answers to the burning questions on my mind and return home, with my heart still in one piece.

  "I drove you crazy that day, huh?" Colin easily navigates his car to our mysterious destination.

  "When?"

  "The first time I came over." He gives me a knowing look. "Sat on your bed and gave you a glimpse. God, your cheeks burned!"

  "Very funny," I grumble, preferring not to talk about that evening.

  "It was a nice sight."

  "You enjoyed every moment, didn't you?"

  "Every second, and after that you couldn't resist me." He just has to continue his harassment.

  "Arrogant."

  "Are you not the one who begged me to do it?"

  "Just 'cause I couldn't stand the thought of you finding some dumb cheerleader to replace me." We both know how many of them would have been happy to take my place in his bed.

  “You wanted me, admit it." He laughs loudly.

  "I'll admit nothing." I don't laugh back at his jokes.

  "You wanted me, and after you got what I gave you, you wanted more."

  "Big deal," I wave dismissively, "so you knew what to do in bed."

  "I had no idea what I was doing in bed," he snorts with contempt in response. "I was a kid, and I thought I knew something about life."

  "Do you think it's funny?" The insult overwhelms me, threatening to drown me as I stare at him murderously. "Do you think it's entertaining, that you've spent the past few years screwing and learning some new tricks?" He doesn't have the basic decency to not throw it in my face. Does he think I want to hear about his exploits? The other girls he was with, who replaced me while I raised our daughter?

  "Liz," his voice is immediately apologetic.

  "This was a mistake," I rush out. "Take me home."

  "No." His voice is firm. "I'm sorry for what I said, it was stupid."

  "Leaving me pregnant, that was stupid!" I raise my voice.

  "You're trying to get out of our date, and it won't work." He looks at me quizzically.

  "It's not a date," I correct him.

  "No?" He raises an eyebrow mischievously. His ability to change the subject, and his mood, so quickly is an art form.

  "It's your attempt to compete with Doctor Diaz," I try to annoy him, but all he does is smile. "Is something funny to you?"

  "You," he doesn't take his eyes off the road. "You think his PhD threatens me?"

  "He's not just a doctor," I clarify, "he's also very nice."

  "I'm very nice, too."

  "No you're not." I look away and stare out the window.

  "I'm very nice," he mutters quietly, "and you're crazy about me."

  "Where are you taking me?" I refuse to discuss it any further.

  "If I tell you it’ll ruin the surprise."

  I think everything for him is one big amusement.

  "I'm not five, and you know I don't like surprises." Unless he has forgotten. I never liked surprises, and at the moment I hate them more than ever.

  "Richmond Park," he answers evenly.

  I turn my head slowly toward him in a movement that goes on forever, and a little more, and give him a murderous look.

  "Colin," I take a deep breath, trying to calm my guts, which insists on turning over. "You're not taking me there."

  "I want to talk." He doesn't bother to look at me.

  "Then find another place. Stop at a restaurant, find a cafe, a bench, you're not taking me to Richmond Park."

  "There are great benches in the park."

  "I know!" I shout with all my might. "I'm not stupid, not senile, and I hate this damn park because of you!"

  "I just want to talk," he tries to calm me down but I cut him off again.

  "You don't want to talk, you want to reminisce, but all the park does is make me feel sad. Bad choice, Colin, a really bad choice."

  "It's my date, so I decide where we're going. You can choose on your date."

  "There won't be another date," I mutter angrily. "And you are dreaming if you think this will work for you."

  "All I have left are the dreams!" He bursts out and hits the steering wheel with his hand. "You think I don't know I've ruined everything?" He gasps heavily, steers the car to the side of the road and stops with a screech of brakes.

  "Do you think I'm an idiot?" His eyes are on me, blue and shining. I see the despair and the defeat in them.

  "I'm not trying to annoy you," I murmur in a whisper.

  "No, you just want me to disappear, don't you, Liz?" Our eyes lock. "Say it, you want me to leave again."

  "I don't want to get hurt again, that's all."

  "Let's go to court, let the lawyers run a bloody war for us. You can hate me as much as you want, and our daughter will pay the price for both our mistakes. Or you can let me take you to Richmond Park and listen to all I have to say and, perhaps, you may find a little corner in your heart to forgive me."

  "I don't know where to start," I confess.

  "Maybe from where you stop lying to yourself and start looking inside your broken heart. Start from the point where you realize that despite what I've done, and though you hate the thought, you still love me."

  "I'm aware of the possibility, Colin," I whisper, "really. But most of all I'm afraid to find out that's true."

  "Is it easier to hate me?"

  "Yes." I nod. "I'm used to that."

  He runs a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath, and seems to be calculating his steps. I don't know what to do next. I don't know what to do myself. We are trapped in his car, shackled to the past.

  "I'm sorry," he breaks the silence in a cracked voice. "I'll take you home. I don't know what I was thinking."

  He gives up, and I can't really blame him. He doesn't have any reason to believe that we have a chance. He's right, I'm dragging us in the mud. Vivian will pay the price, and I’ll be
miserable and so will he. And I still won’t have any answers.

  "You said you were taught to fight, that failure was out of the question." My heart brakes at the thought that we have reached the finish line, that this will end.

  "I was taught to choose my battles, and I don't want to fight a lost one." His voice is distant and resigned.

  "I don't want to go to court." If he turns to a lawyer, the situation will escalate, and both of us will spend a fortune on something we need to solve ourselves.

  "You don't want to go to the park," he says in accusation, "you don't want to go to court, what do you want?"

  "I want Vivian to have her own room, I want to keep her safe and wrap her in cotton and not let anything hurt her, and I want you to kiss me. Like you said, because I keep thinking about it, and I hate myself, Colin." I know how wretched I sound. "I hate myself for that, and for changing my clothes eight times only to end up with my jeans and t-shirt. I hate myself."

  The sound of the belt buckle being released causes my gaze to rise. Colin's penetrating stare doesn't come off me. He leans toward me and his fingers find my belt. He releases it with a click and his hand climbs up to my hair. He pulls slowly at my hair band and releases my ponytail.

  "That's better," he murmurs in a low voice, his fingers clasping the nape of my neck.

  My skin responds to him immediately, a chill creeping down my back and a heat warming between my thighs. The temperature in the car is rising to new heights. He pulls me toward him, slowly. Builds the expectation. My mouth opens to him, wanting to meet his tongue, seeking refuge from the words, to a place where there is no speaking. He lowers his mouth and his lips flutter on mine, his warm breath dragging a desperate sigh from me.

  "Kiss me," I plead.

  He fulfills my wish without pausing, smashing his mouth against mine, rolling my hair around his fist and pulling it back, as he promised. With his other hand he holds my jaw, fixing it in place, so I can't move, I can't escape. He kisses me with hunger, bites my lips, pulls them and suckles them, and my head spins. I tighten my thighs together. I'm in flames. He will burn me in a fire that will reach heaven. If he puts one finger in the wrong place, if he lets them wonder . . . I won't resist. His mouth rises sharply from my mouth. We gasp, flushed and trembling.