Heart Stronger

by Rachel Blaufeld

  “So, they found you or what?”

  I couldn’t help the annoyance sneaking up my spine. These two coeds snaked their way into my life. Which was no shock, since I couldn’t be the fun and fancy-free type Aiken needed.

  “Abbie turned into a dog chasing a bitch in heat, Allison explained to me. Abbie talked her into helping, since her dad was technically already involved. Honestly, I’m trying to put it all together myself.”

  I stopped in my tracks on the sidewalk and turned to look at Aiken, his hand still steady on my elbow. “I know I’m hazy, but let me get this straight. Abbie rallied Allison’s dad into her single-dad project. Over dinner, she mentioned me and subsequently you? And then they tied it all together into a nice bow?”

  “Yes,” he said, staring into my eyes.

  “Don’t stare at me like that, I’m losing focus. After Allison’s dad mentioned he knew your mom, Abbie went gung-ho in alerting you, my hottie, to the fact. Why? Why would she even do that? Why would she care? Christ, my head hurts.” I shook my head, trying to loosen the muck of cobwebs. “And did you tell her we were having problems? You and I?”

  I was in full-blown crazy-woman mode.

  His gaze remained on my shoes—at my request—and now I wished he hadn’t listened and moved his eyes to me.

  “Apparently, yes, it seems like that’s what happened. The duo found me on Facebook that night, which was easy because they’d already ‘stalked your hottie,’ and poof, Allison messaged me and said she wants to chat about my mother. She didn’t say much. Or anything I hadn’t already gathered. My mom was trouble with a capital T, but the whole town, and now I’m guessing the town over, worried about her. My last name has apparently started some sort of snowball-effect search mission. It’s odd.”

  “I have to go home. This is too crazy. Surreal. I don’t even know what to call it.”

  I started walking again. Something wasn’t right in this explanation, yet I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, I could. With no alcohol in my system.

  Stilled with a tug on my arm, we stood on the sidewalk, Aiken holding me in place by me elbow. If I wanted to get away, I could. Obviously, I didn’t, for reasons I couldn’t explain to myself.

  “Uh-uh, you’re not getting away so easily. What do you mean ‘did I tell her we were having problems’?”

  “Well, we are. Ever since I freaked out in Smith Point.”

  “We are not. I know you’re trying to make sense of it all, and I’m giving you the mental space to do so. But don’t think for one fucking second that I’m out there looking for a piece on the side while you figure it out.”

  I shrugged out of his grasp and started toward home.

  “Claire,” he called, quickly catching up to me.

  “But it’s all been surface shit, and you never pressed on the subject.” The alcohol acted like a truth serum for truths I hadn’t even known existed.

  I wanted him to press? What was that all about?

  “Richards.” He tugged me to him, my front to his. “Of course I was going to press, but not right away. I want the damn shower with two heads. I want to move in with you. Your place or mine or a new place. But mostly I want you to allow yourself to want it all, and until you do that, we need to table it.”

  “What? You still want that? You think that I can…”

  His lips met the crown of my head, and I felt like I was ten years younger than he was.

  “Yes and yes.”

  I looked up at him, seeing my watery eyes reflected in his under the streetlight, and realized we were standing in front of our houses. “Are you sure tonight wasn’t about more than finding clues about your mother?” As soon as the jealous, wretched, ridiculous words were out of my mouth, I knew I was acting like the younger one between us. Especially after Aiken unloaded his sentiment.

  I was acting like a complete and utter bitch, yet he took my hand and guided me up the driveway.

  At my back door, he held the screen open while I fiddled with the lock.

  “I’d like to come in. I hate that this still feels unresolved. Not us, but the Allison thing.”

  I felt my head shake. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Claire, Allison meant nothing. She was being an informant, and not a very good one at that.”

  “I’m sure, but I need a night alone.” I hated the way I was acting, but couldn’t stop it. “Thanks for walking me home.”

  I slipped inside the door, shutting it in his face.

  With my back to the door, I waited to hear the screen door slap closed.

  Then I waited another ten minutes (in that same position) before letting Smitty out. I didn’t dare walk outside with him.

  Sometimes, even Smitty had to take one for the team.

  Aiken

  “How ya doing?” I sat down across from Abbie at a dingy diner a little over half an hour away in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania.

  “Glad you came. I know Professor Richards saw you out last night with Allison.”

  “She did, and I gotta be honest, she wasn’t happy. She couldn’t quite understand how you and I came to know one another. And I gotta wonder if there’s more to the story than you’re owning up to.”

  Before going to bed last night, I’d messaged Abbie on Facebook. I felt like a stupid asshole, too old for that kind of shit. My life was moving in a different direction.

  The whole time, I couldn’t get Claire out of my head. Claire in my arms on our trip, talking about the shower heads, us moving in, the way I felt. I really wanted that—to be with Claire forever.

  Somewhere between coming to Podunk, Pennsylvania, to find my mom and getting closer to doing it, I’d fallen for the woman next door.

  I needed to fix shit, so I’d asked Abbie if I could come meet with her…farther from campus. Meeting up with her anywhere near campus could have ended up backfiring, and I didn’t dare risk it.

  Claire’s house was dark when I left early this morning, and I figured she needed space from me, in addition to nursing her hangover. That didn’t mean I didn’t leave with a heavy heart and a looming sense of doom.

  “Look, I can’t tell you everything right at this minute,” Abbie said. “Just know I have a vested interest in you finding your mom.”

  A waitress interrupted us. “Can I get ya anything?”

  “Black coffee and whatever she’s having.”

  “Green tea and oatmeal.”

  I didn’t plan to stay long enough to see Abbie eat all of it. If she wasn’t going to cough up information, or even attempt to be transparent about her motives, I was leaving.

  “I don’t really get what your interest is. I mean, I know Allison’s dad knew my mom. But that doesn’t necessitate you getting this involved, stalking me, to tell me what I already know. My mom was a pain in everyone’s ass. And now I show up in Centre, and it’s like every townie is worried about where she is. You’re from there too? Are you worried?”

  I’d already done some Google sniffing and knew she was from Centre, but I still needed answers.

  “Yeah, my dad worked over in the Economics Department until two years ago when he retired.”

  “Did he know my mom too? How did you even get on this jag with me? This is fucking crazy.” The last part was a whisper.

  I began to resent sitting in this greasy-spoon diner across from this blonde, who thought she held the keys to my success, hating that she could insert herself into my shit.

  “I don’t think so,” she said while turning to grab a few sugar packets, her face hidden.

  Strange that she didn’t make eye contact, but I didn’t call her on it. Rather, I stuck that tidbit in my back pocket for a later day. I needed to try to gain an advantage. My male ego was at risk of crumbling like a stale roll.

  The waitress smacked my coffee down in front of me, the hot liquid splashing around the coaster. “Cream?”

  I shook my head.

  She set Abbie’s tea down more gent
ly and walked away.

  “Look.” I ran a hand over my chin, my scruff almost a full beard. I made a mental note to trim it when I got home. “You’ve been very nice, seeking me out, making the connection with Allison’s dad, but neither of you have anything concrete to say. I’m making some progress in cracking the code on my mom. I found an old email account of hers, and I think she’s posted in some chat rooms, so I’m getting close.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

  “Not now. If you’re going to keep your cards close to your vest, so am I. I’ll tell you this: Keep Claire outta this shit. I know you’ve taken a shining to her, and that’s fine, you want to be teacher’s pet or whatever.”

  I stood, tossed a ten on the table, and walked away. Normally, I wasn’t as big of a dick, but I was pissed. These two freaking coeds knew something I didn’t.

  They were hiding something.

  Fuck ’em.

  I was hiding some shit too.

  Later that day, after a shower and a beard trim, I hustled on a quick errand before I knocked on Claire’s back door.

  It was partially open, and I didn’t wait before nudging it all the way.

  “Little grease for your pounding head?”

  She was dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, shorter-than-fucking-short shorts that barely covered her legs, and no makeup.

  Would’ve been the perfect setup, except for the scowl on her face.

  Smitty came running out and circled my legs.

  “What’s that?” She pointed to the bag in my hand, brow furrowed, scowl deepening.

  “A couple of greasy shrimp eggrolls, chicken lo mein, General Tso’s chicken, and vegetable fried rice, hold the egg. Sound good? Now can I come in?”

  “If you’re sharing that, then yes.”

  “You know I am. I got it for you, Richards.”

  She slipped to the side, and I wound my way to the counter.

  “What do you know about Chinese takeout? They have that where you’re from, farm boy?”

  “Very funny. Hardy har har. You got anything better than that? And I’ll have you know we did have an authentic Chinese place about thirty minutes from where we lived. When we’d go get the truck serviced, we’d stuff our faces.”

  Grabbing some plates, I unpacked the food, pulled out a stool, and barked, “Sit, Richards.”

  I made a heaping plate and set it in front of her.

  “Not sure why you’re being so nice. I was a complete bitch last night. An immature one at that.”

  “S’okay.” I piled some food on a plate, allowing her time to take a bite.

  “No, I was out of line. I had a little too much to drink, and I was in the middle of worrying about something related to Mary, and then I saw you…with her…anyway, this morning…I got my period. That’s not an excuse. I guess I’m saying…I’m not that old, you know.” She nervous-laughed. “And also, I guess emotions and hormones got the best of me. Ugh, I’m rambling. Again.”

  My fork clanged on my plate, and I gathered her close, my fingers tangling in her loose hair, my lips on her forehead. “You don’t have to apologize. First, stop with the age shit. Second, you saw something you didn’t like, and it was easy to make assumptions. Hell, I would’ve done the same. But I’ll tell you this, it made me feel damn good to see you get a little protective of what’s yours.”

  Her hand wound its way around my neck and tugged on the longer hairs at my nape. “Are you mine?”

  “Damn straight. And pretty soon, I’ll be pushing us to move forward. Brace yourself, Richards.”

  “Will you be the kind of guy who buys tampons at the grocery store?” She pinched my side, and I leaned back to find her smiling.

  “I’m a farm boy, remember? I don’t know jack shit about Chinese takeout, but I don’t get grossed out easily. I can buy a box of tampons.”

  She laughed, her smile continuing to touch her eyes, soft crinkles at the corners. I liked being the one to make those come out.

  “Come on, eat before it gets cold.”

  She turned and took a big bite of an eggroll. “Mmmm. You do know Chinese takeout.”

  I forked some lo mein into my mouth, never taking my eyes off Claire and the eggroll.

  She wasn’t completely smiling, but she wasn’t scowling anymore.

  “Wanna bite?” I asked, lifting a forkful of noodles toward her mouth. She accepted by wrapping her mouth around my fork and lifting her eggroll-filled hand up to my mouth.

  Sharing food was one way we could use our mouths, but not my preferred way.

  “When we’re done, wanna lay on the couch? And watch movies all day?”

  “I haven’t done that in…ever,” she said.

  “Always time for a first.”

  Except, I forgot about her furniture.

  “Your couch is too small for me, and I don’t look good in all this pink,” I declared as soon as I sank into the Pepto-Bismol-colored sofa. “Grab Smitty and your microwave popcorn. We’re going to my place.”

  “You mean I get to hang on the leather sofa in front of your mega screen?”

  She’d been over a few times for a quick drink or to run in and use the bathroom if we were grilling, but she hadn’t spent any significant time there. It always felt like she was more comfortable on her turf. I was changing that tonight.

  “Let’s go, Richards.”

  I figured this was a big step, leaving the ghosts of her failed marriage and Abby next door, where they belonged, and making new memories at my place.

  A few hours later, Claire sat up from the couch, her hair messy, her eyes half closed, smile wide. “I can’t believe you talked me into this movie.”

  “You loved it.”

  “For like one second when he took his shirt off. I could’ve skipped everything else, especially that scene where they’re shooting at everyone in the street before their car explodes.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You loved it. Especially on my TV in high-def. You don’t have that at your place.”

  “Well, payback’s a bitch. My turn!”

  “I think a new season of that show about the triplets who aren’t really triplets because one of them’s adopted is starting. You know the one that goes back and forth between the past and the present?”

  “Mary’s mentioned it about a thousand times…my students too.”

  “Want to check it out?”

  “You’re just trying to avoid watching a rom-com. Well, I’ll tell you what, tough guy…I don’t like rom-coms. I’m more of a historical fiction gal. World War II flicks…sad and somber…are my jam.”

  One corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and I smacked her with a cushion. “You had me there for a minute…come on, get close, we’ll watch this show. It’s romantic enough from what I hear.”

  She lay back against me, her hair fanning over my shirt-covered chest, her back sinking into me.

  “I like it here.”

  Hearing those few words were like rinsing away a hot day of manual labor with a cold beer. I allowed them to wash over me.

  “Me too,” was all I answered, for fear I’d suggest something too aggressive for Claire. I’d done that once already.

  “I know we’re always at my place, but that’s because I’m attached to it. In what’s probably not a very healthy way. As you’ve pointed out.”

  “It’s cool. It’s no big deal to me. You’re here now.” I remained nonchalant, despite my heart and brain doing acrobatics. This was no simple feat, considering I’d never experienced any of the above before.

  “Do you think you’ll ever invite me to stay over?”

  Since I wanted to see her, I flipped her over and hovered over her, my weight on my forearms. “It’s an open invitation.”

  Forgetting the TV show, I lowered my lips to hers. She returned my passion, giving as good as she got. We kissed for a long while, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths, our lower halves seeking contact.

  “Off,” Claire murmured while t
ugging at my shirt.

  I broke free and lifted it off in one swoop.

  Her nails coursed down my back and made their way up again. A chill broke out along my spine. I wanted skin-on-skin and made quick work of getting rid of her shirt. With only her bra in the way, I used my teeth to tug one cup to the side, exposing her tit to me. Without further waiting, I sucked on her nipple, sadly remembering she was on her period.

  I didn’t know where she stood on that…and then a long moan escaped her as she slipped out from underneath me.

  I sat up just as she settled on her knees in front of me, her hands working off my jeans, then tugging my boxers.

  My length on full display in front of her face, she dipped her head slowly. My hands weaved through her silky hair, making sure she started off slow. I wanted this to last. She seemed to know when I needed her to speed up, and I let her take control.

  For the moment.

  Later, I didn’t have to ask Claire to spend the night. She’d conked out in my arms on the couch before I carried her upstairs.

  Claire

  A few weeks passed without incident. Unless you count my falling for Aiken an incident…which it was.

  Mostly, I taught while Abbie hounded me every day about another ridiculous idea. She was becoming quite the psychology protégé—or so she thought. Aiken hadn’t mentioned her or her friend again. He seemed busy with a new website for a local photographer. Arranging all their example photos and a separate password-protected proofs section was taking a big chunk of his time.

  It was almost Halloween, and I was working in my kitchen, reviewing a paper I’d assigned to be due the morning of trick-or-treating. I needed a glass of wine. I was tired, overwhelmed…I didn’t know what.

  “Knock, knock.” Aiken walked in my back door, which I’d taken to keeping unlocked when we were both home. Otherwise, as soon as I’d go upstairs to change, Aiken would be knocking. No one came around otherwise.