Crimes of Passion

by Toni Anderson

  Joe laughed, tilting his head back, to my utter disappointment.

  “So you can’t make it a good one or you don’t want to kiss me?” I asked, peeved.

  He stopped laughing. “Neither.” The hand around my waist inched up my back, pulling me even closer to him, which I hadn’t thought possible. He did it slow and deliberate, like I was a mouse and he was a cat, playing with his prey. His eyes bore into mine, his mouth inching closer. My heart rate sped up again, the ache inside growing with every second.

  “Are you sure, Rose?” he asked, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth and making his eyes twinkle.

  “Yes,” I sighed and closed my eyes.

  His lips touched mine, soft and gentle, pulling my lower lip between his. I felt his tongue dart out and tickle my upper lip. I gasped and he pulled me even closer, his mouth working magic on mine, igniting a bonfire in my gut that threatened to consume me. My legs felt weak and I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself. His response was to open his lips even more and do things with his tongue that I had never considered before. I clung to him for dear life, certain I would never survive the onslaught of fire raging through my body.

  When he pulled his mouth away, we both panted, our faces inches apart. His hand cupped my face and his thumb stroked my cheek. “How was that?”

  I thought about it, unsure how to respond. “It’s hard to say, since I have nothing else to compare it to, but I think it was probably pretty good.”

  “Pretty good?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eye. “Why, if I didn’t know better Rose Gardner, I would suspect you were a tease. Are you telling me that you need something to compare it to?”

  I nodded, licking my lower lip where he had nipped.

  His eyes followed my tongue. The playfulness fell away and his lips found mine, much more insistent this time, much more demanding. I never thought it possible to lose oneself in someone else, but I lost myself in him. When he stopped, I had no idea if I stood on my own. Turns out I didn’t. Joe held me up with the arm around my back.

  “Was that one better?” Huskiness filled his words.

  “Does it get even better than that?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

  “Yes,” he said, his breath tickling my face. “But it involves more than just kissing. You would have to move to number fifteen.”

  “Do more…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you help me with that one too?” I asked, eager.

  Joe groaned, pulled my face to his chest and murmured into my ear. “You have no idea how much I want to help you with that, but I can’t. You’re drunk and it wouldn’t be right.”

  I pulled back in protest. “I’m not drunk!”

  “You most certainly are. Try to walk a straight line.”

  I had serious doubts about my ability to do that.

  “There you go.” Joe said, smiling. But he looked a little sad too. “Do you still have to go to the bathroom?”

  I nodded.

  “Can you make it by yourself?”

  “I think so…”

  Joe decided it would be better if he escorted me inside. I shut the bathroom door behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes sparkled. I’d never seen myself look that way.

  When I walked out, Joe waited outside the door.

  “Now what?” I asked. “Are you going to go home?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to. We could watch TV.”

  I smiled. “That sounds nice. But I don’t have cable.”

  “Yeah, I know, because of number three. Get cable TV.”

  “Why do I think I’ll regret showin’ you my list?”

  He laughed. “Because you probably will.”

  “We can go to your house if you want, you probably have cable and a sofa.”

  “I think we can both squeeze in that chair over there.” He gestured to the oversized one in the living room.

  I blushed a little. For both of us to sit in that chair meant we had to sit very close together.

  Joe took my hand in his. He sat in the chair and had me sit on his lap, my legs over the arm of the chair. I laid my head in the crook of his neck.

  “Comfy?” he asked, turning on the television with the remote.

  “Mmmhmm…” I had never felt so comfortable in all my life.

  Between the beer, the coziness of being held and the murmur of the television, my eyes got heavy and I decided I’d rest them for a minute.

  “Rose?”

  “Hmm?” I hovered on the edge of wake and sleep, when you’re straddling both but belong to neither.

  “I really like your hair.”

  I fell asleep, lying against his chest listening to the soft beat of his heart in my ear, my own full of joy.

  EIGHT

  The next morning, beer and I mutually decided our relationship wasn’t going to work out. I wondered why it decided to turn on me as I clung to the toilet, waiting to puke my guts out. Everything had been going so well the night before. I lifted my head, trying to remember what happened, and groaned when it all rushed back. I dropped my head in dismay, whacking my forehead on the porcelain. Just what I needed to help my already aching head.

  What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? ran through my head like a Buddhist chant. What did I do? I drank a beer. And then another. Joe showed up. And he brought me a sandwich. I drank another beer. And he read my list.

  I groaned again. He read my list. How could have I let that happen? Then I remembered our kiss. If my stomach hadn’t been rallying the rest of my intestinal track into a march of protest, I might have enjoyed the rush of heat and anticipation that accompanied the memory. I remembered asking him to help me with the do more wish and I groaned again. What had I done? But I remembered both kisses and I couldn’t find enough shame to muster any guilt. I felt like a fool and Joe surely thought I was a complete idiot, but I wasn’t sorry I kissed him.

  And there you had it; I was paving the highway to hell in beer bottles and kisses.

  But I checked off another wish on my list. That brought a smile to my lips, right before I puked.

  When I made my way to the kitchen, I found a note on the table, written on the back of a Stop-N-Go receipt. Next to it was my Wish List, which now had tiny check marks next to the numbers one, ten, fourteen and eighteen.

  I picked up the gas pump receipt, the print small enough to fit on the three-inch long paper.

  Rose,

  I hope you feel okay today. Be sure to drink lots of water and I’ll check on you later.

  Joe

  PS. In case you missed it last night, I really like your hair.

  I clutched the receipt to my chest. My first note from a boy. Well, a man. Joe definitely wasn’t a boy. Giddiness washed through me, in spite of my overall ickiness. I really wanted to share this with Violet, but I wondered if she was still mad.

  The wooden box on the kitchen table caught my eye. I had to tell Violet about the will and I needed to figure out where I would live. The thought of moving away from Joe filled me with sadness. You’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s nothing between you and Joe. But I hoped there was anyway.

  I picked up the phone, took a deep breath and called Violet. She answered, her tone cool but not as chilly as before. Of course, she knew it was me from her caller ID.

  “I miss you, Violet. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “I miss you too. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

  I started to cry. “Of course! You’re my sister, I have to forgive you.”

  We laughed, still awkward in our reconciliation.

  “Look, Violet, we need to talk about Momma’s will.”

  “Oh! How could I forget all about that? I’m sure it won’t be that big a deal.”

  I forced cheerfulness into my voice. “I wondered if I could run over later and we could look over it?”

  “Sure, want to come over for lunch? Then we can chat while Ashle
y and Mikey nap.”

  Lunch sounded like a terrible idea. The March of Protest began rumbling in my gut at the thought of it. “How about I skip lunch and come at naptime. My stomach hasn’t been the best.”

  “Oh sure, darlin’. It’s probably nerves.”

  I wanted to say, No, I’m sure it’s the beer, but didn’t trust Violet’s reaction, so I said nothing.

  “Why don’t you come around two?”

  I hoped that gave me enough time to get myself together. “Yeah, see you then.”

  I got a glass of water and lay down in my bed. I had woken up there that morning, but for the life of me couldn’t remember how I got there. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on Joe’s lap, which brought a combination of embarrassment and joy. The logical explanation was that Joe helped me get here. A moment of panic filled me at the thought of being so out of it that I didn’t remember going to bed. But I woke up fully clothed, minus my shoes. If Joe wanted to take advantage of me, he would have done it when I flung myself at him.

  I napped, and felt a little better when I got up. Crackers and a hot shower also helped. When I arrived at Violet’s house, my stomach had settled, but my head still ached a bit, nothing I couldn’t manage.

  I placed the trunk in a large paper shopping bag. I figured it was part of the will so I should bring it to show Violet. But anxiety ate at me as I knocked on Violet’s door. I told myself I had nothing to be nervous about. It couldn’t get any worse.

  When Violet opened the door, she pulled me into a hug, the bag banging against the door.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. Are the kids down for their nap?”

  “Yeah, let’s go into the kitchen.”

  Violet poured glasses of tea for both of us, which I had trouble choking down. I hadn’t decided if I would admit to the getting-drunk part, but I knew I couldn’t leave until I told her about the kissing part of the previous night.

  I set the envelope on the table and slid it to her. “Read this.”

  I sat back, gnawing on my lower lip. Violet sensed my anxiety and narrowed her eyes as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the papers.

  I watched her face as she read, her expression changing from concentration to surprise, then horror. She looked up with huge eyes, the color drained from her face. “Oh, my goodness! I had no idea! I swear to you, Rose. I had no idea.”

  “I know, Vi. I know you didn’t.”

  “What are we gonna do?” Her question sounded like a wail.

  “I don’t know. I guess you need to decide what you’re going to do with the house.”

  “But that’s not right, Rose. It’s not fair.”

  We sat in pain filled silence. Finally, I patted her hand. “It is what it is.”

  “But I don’t want it all! I want you to have half.”

  I twisted my mouth into a lopsided smile. “I got something, too.”

  “What?”

  I pulled the box out of the paper bag and set it on the table. “This.”

  “What in tarnation is that?”

  “I believe it is the wooden box bequeathed to me in Momma’s will. You’ll see it on the next page.”

  Violet flipped the page, running her finger down the print until she found my name. After reading it, she looked up, fire burning in her eyes. “What the hell?”

  “Violet Mae!”

  “What kind of nonsense is this? A wooden box? What’s in there?”

  I scooted it toward her. “I have no idea. It’s locked.”

  She fumbled with the padlock. “We have to figure out how to get this off.”

  “I know, but I have no idea how. I couldn’t find the key.” Part of me didn’t care what was in there. Anything from Momma couldn’t be good.

  Violet grabbed a dishtowel and scrubbed the dust off the top of the box. “There’s writing under all this dust!” She bent over the box again, invigorated by her discovery, and traced the etching with her fingers. “It says Dora.”

  “Who’s Dora?” I couldn’t remember Momma or Daddy ever mentioning a Dora.

  “I don’t know…” her voice trailed off as she turned the box around, looking for more clues. “It’s kinda like our very own mystery.”

  My laugh was only slightly bitter. “Yeah, I suppose it is. We could have our very own Let’s Make a Deal. Violet Beauregard, do you want to trade your inheritance for the mysterious contents of a small wooden box?”

  Violet’s eyes grew misty. “Rose, I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I’ll make this right. I promise.”

  “Maybe you should wait to see what’s in the box before you go offerin’ me anything. There might be a pirate’s booty in there.” I tried to sound lighthearted. None of this was Violet’s fault. There was no sense making her feel bad.

  “How can you tease like that? Momma cut you out of her will!”

  “No, she didn’t. She gave me a box. Besides, it was no secret Momma didn’t like me. I’ll admit to being pretty upset when I found out, but I’ve had time to get over it.”

  Mostly.

  “I should have been there for you,” she said, “but I was being stubborn and spiteful. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, water under the bridge and all that. But I have other news to tell you.” My face lit up into a big smile, eager to change the subject.

  Violet’s eyes twinkled in anticipation. It wasn’t like me to get so excited. “What?”

  “I got my first kiss last night!”

  Her face froze in horror. “You what?”

  I pinched my lips together in disappointment. That was not the reaction I expected. I lifted my chin in defiance. “I said I got my first kiss. And it was wonderful, thank you very much for asking.”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, back up. When? Where? Who?”

  “Last night. On my front porch. Joe.” I felt like I was playing a game of Clue.

  She looked confused. “Joe? Joe who?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Joe McAllister, my next door neighbor. Joe.”

  Indignation filled her eyes. “Did he take advantage of you?”

  “No! It was nothing like that. We were sittin’ on the front porch, drinking Uncle Earl’s beer…”

  “You were drinkin’ beer?” Her voice raised several decibels.

  “Sure, why not? Uncle Earl does.”

  “And you were drinkin’ it on the front porch? In front of all the neighbors? The ones who think you murdered our mother less than a week ago? And you kissed him? On the front porch?”

  I sighed in disappointment. “I thought you would be happy for me. Why just a week ago you told me I should have sex.”

  “With a respectable man! And not less than week after our momma was murdered!” My words must have sunk in because she gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh, my dear Lord. You didn’t have sex with him, did you?”

  “Yes, Violet.” I said in a haughty tone. “I did. I had sex with him right there on the front porch, next to the pots of geraniums. I had to move ‘em though so Mildred could get a better view.” I had to wonder what the neighbors might have seen if Joe hadn’t turned me down.

  “Rose!”

  “And why would you think Joe isn’t respectable? You don’t know anything about him.”

  “Exactly my point, Rose. We don’t know anything about him. Where does he work? What does he do? We don’t know about his family.”

  Anger rose up and my hands balled up into fists in my lap. “There you go, to the heart of the matter. You don’t know anything about his family, so that makes him suspect.”

  “That’s not it, at all. He’s takin’ advantage of you at a vulnerable time. I don’t trust him.”

  We sat in silence, my heart breaking that we were fighting again. What had happened to us?

  Violet cleared her throat. “If you would like to go out on a date, I am sure Mike knows someone we could fix you up with.”

  “What?”


  “You need to go out with a respectable man, from a good family. We can help you with that.” The way she squared her shoulders told me she had made up her mind and wouldn’t back down.

  “So let me get this straight, if I want a boyfriend, you’re gonna get me one, one from a respectable family?” I waited for her to deny it. She didn’t. “Oh my stars! You are! That’s exactly what you’re sayin’! You think I’m incapable of getting a boyfriend on my own?”

  “Rose, be sensible. You are completely inexperienced. You are twenty-four years old and never had a boyfriend.”

  “There are multiple reasons why…”

  “Rose, reasons be damned, you are naive. Men will take advantage of you, honey. We have to make sure that you date men who will appreciate your…lack of dating history.”

  I stood up. “I can not believe you are doin’ this.” I grabbed the box and put it in the bag.

  “Rose!” Violet protested. “Just think about it, sweetie. I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Violet, I am not a child.” I picked up my purse and the bag. “You have got to stop treating me like one.”

  “What has gotten into you, Rose?” she asked, following me to the door.

  “I’m growing up, Violet. Deal with it.”

  I got in my car and drove out of her neighborhood, not ready to go home yet. She hadn’t told me what she wanted to do with the house. Everything was a mess.

  I drove past the dress shop and stopped on a whim. I felt good about how I looked at the visitation and funeral, and I was tired of wearing baggy, shapeless clothes. Besides, I could hear Violet in my head whining, “What will people say?” That settled it. I was shopping.

  The saleswoman from the other day stood by the clearance rack when I entered the store. She saw me and did a double take. “You cut your hair.”

  I couldn’t get over everyone’s fascination with my hair. I half-smiled in response.

  She seemed to forget the awkwardness of the vision I had of her daughter and helped me pick out several outfits. If I was gonna change, I was gonna change everything, ugly clothes included.

  I left with multiple bags and lots of dollars poorer, but eager to get home. And hopefully see Joe.

  I didn’t see his car in the driveway when I pulled up, but I expected him to be at work. I went inside and boxed up most of my old clothes. I tried on one of my new outfits, a pair of capris and a sleeveless blouse. When I stared at myself in the mirror, I looked and felt like a different person. How was that possible?