by Mary Martel
It was official, I had gone off the deep end and completely lost my mind. What in the hell was the matter with me lately? I felt so far from my normal self that it kind of scared me. The past month, my emotions had been all over the place and I didn’t feel very stable or sane. Was this part of the grieving process? If so, it sucked. I craved stability and desperately wanted to feel some semblance of normal. Which was stupid because I had no clue what normal even consisted of.
The dress I held in my hands was a deep, dark, wine colored red. The material soft and slinky. I held it up for further inspection and couldn’t hold in the small laugh that escaped me at what I saw.
The dress screamed Vivian Kimber, only a better quality.
I held the dress up in front of me, taking stock. She and I had been almost the exact same size.
The dress had two-inch-wide shoulder straps. The skirt hit just above mid-thigh, making the length indecent. The front was so low-cut half of my bra would have been showing were I to actually wear the expensively offensive thing. I couldn’t remember ever having seen my mother wearing this dress.
I let it drop to the carpeted floor instead of stuffing it into the black garbage bag.
When Addison walked into the closet twenty minutes later, six more dresses had joined the dark red one in a pile on the floor. The garbage bag remained empty and where I had hung it on the doorknob. Every single dress I had dropped to the floor, my mother had never worn and all of them still had their price tags attached.
“Abel should be here with boxes soon,” Addison told me from his place in the doorway.
I held the dark green dress clutched in my hands up for his inspection.
“Do you think this is my color?” I asked him quietly.
“Do you honestly want to wear her clothes?” He shot back immediately.
I shook my head. No, I absolutely did not want to wear anything that had belonged to that woman. Her clothes ranged from the ultimate stripper to slutty Stepford wife. I didn’t think either would suit me very well.
“Why do you need the boxes?” He asked in a serious voice. “You don’t actually want to keep any of this stuff, do you, Ariel? We should get rid of it all. No reminders of her. A fresh new start for you.”
Throw it all away… so much waste. All of it, a massive waste.
When I didn’t answer, he pushed it. “What are you going to do with all this stuff? Her stuff?”
“Salvation Army?” I responded and shrugged. “Goodwill? Whatever second-hand store that’s closest and takes donations. I don’t have a preference. Mr. Cole is going to be all moved out in less than two weeks and all this needs to be gone before then.”
“Just throw it away,” he insisted.
“No.”
He really needed to stop pushing me on this.
Angry, I balled my fist around the green dress, clenching it in my hands and wrinkling the material.
“If you aren’t going to keep it then why do you care where the fuck it goes?”
I clutched the dress to my chest as I tried to slow my breathing. My entire body trembled and the lights on the ceiling flickered briefly, off then back on.
He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the lights going in and out.
“Do you know what it feels like to be hungry?” I asked him in a quiet, strangled voice. “To be starving and open the refrigerator only to find it empty save for a half empty carton of spoiled milk, beer and, if you’re lucky, a slice of cheese for you to eat. The freezer’s only got Vodka and ice trays in it. The cupboards are bare. What do you do? What do you do, Addison? Do you wake up your mom to ask her for money so you can go to the store and get something to eat? I’ll warn you, she’s naked and will be extremely hungover when you wake her up. And, as an added bonus, the same will go for the dude she brought home with her. Neither will be happy to see you. So, I ask again, what do you do, Addison?”
He stood with his shoulder propped against the door frame and his arms crossed over his chest. His body looked carved from stone, one little crack and the entire image would crumble, and he’d be reduced to a pile of rubble on the carpet.
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he ground out through clenched teeth, “Did that happen to you a lot?”
He was angry on my behalf. Oh, he was so very angry. Anger was okay, but he didn’t answer my question and I think he didn’t answer it because he couldn’t. He had no idea what being hungry, really hungry, felt like. I hoped he never had to find out.
“You don’t wake her up and you don’t ask her for anything,” I whispered, and the trembling stopped. I hadn’t calmed down, the storm still raged inside me, I’d simply silenced it on the surface. “You go to sleep hungry. You get up hungry, and you go to school hungry. You don’t get to eat until lunch time rolls around and you get a tray of food provided to you by the school because your family is poor. Then, when you go home at the end of the day, you might have to do it all over again. Unless you’re lucky. If you’re lucky, your mother will have picked up some packets of Ramen and a box of Saltine Crackers for you.”
He straightened, moving away from the doorway and took a step in my direction.
Holding the dress out in front of me like a shield, I barked, “Stop.”
Immediately, he stopped moving forward.
Looking pained, and sounding exactly how he looked, he whispered, “You’re not ever going to have to go through anything like that ever again. I can promise you that. You’ll not ever have to go hungry again and you sure as shit won’t be eating Ramen and crackers every day, or ever again. This is exactly what I’m talking about, why you need a fresh start and need to get rid of all this,” his arm swept out, waving around the closet, indicating all of my mother’s belongings, “shit. We need to throw it all in the fucking garbage.”
When he stopped speaking he took another step in my direction but stopped when I took a step back, away from him.
I wasn’t backing up because I was afraid of him. I backed up because I wanted to make my point clear before he got close to me and made me think of something else.
“You’re missing the point,” I said as I glared at him.
“And what is the point?”
Good question.
What was the point? What was my point in sharing all this garbage from my past with him?
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and searched inside myself for some bravery. There was a whole lot in there, just sitting around waiting for me to use it.
“I have never, not once, owned clothes that had not been worn by someone else before me, not until I moved in with Mr. Cole. He gave my mother money and a credit card. When he did that, she threw out all my things and made me buy all new things online. Before moving here, I had only ever owned one new pair of shoes, and they had been a gift from one of the men in her life. I have lived my whole life wearing second-hand goods, someone else’s castoffs. Old, worn and used things. Things people should have probably thrown in the trash. Those were my things, my belongings. I don’t even want to consider what my mother would have dressed me in if weren’t for places like the Salvation Army or Goodwill. I wouldn’t have had a winter coat or boots to wear in the cold. I would have been dressed in rags. Do you get my point now?”
Yes, I sounded like a bitch at the end of my little speech, but I didn’t care. This was something I felt strongly about.
“No,” he ground out. “No, I do not fucking get your point. Explain it to me.”
That’s what I was trying to do.
A sound escaped me, laughter. It was bitter, and not at all friendly.
For the first time since having me the lot of them, I felt a tiny sliver of resentment. We were so different. I know some of them had struggled in their lives, I’d only heard snippets and never gotten the full story on any of them yet. But they had all grown up with money. With nice things and nice clothes and food in their bellies. I didn’t hate them for it, I didn’t have room for hate in my heart. But they would likely n
ever fully understand me because none of them had any idea what it was like to be me.
“My point, Addison, is, that all this stuff that you are insisting on throwing away could make a whole world of a difference for someone else, someone in need. You don’t get it because you’ve never been that person before, that person who desperately needed something and not been able to afford it. You don’t know what it’s like and if you did, you wouldn’t be alright with simply throwing all of this stuff away. I’m not okay with it, though. I am so far from being okay with it, it isn’t even funny. You don’t get it because you have no idea what the other side looks like. I can understand that, really, I can. But I’m not going to change my mind about it, and I’m not going to throw this stuff in the garbage. I asked you and your brother to come over and help because I don’t want to do this by myself and I missed you, but if you’re going to keep up this nonsense then you are going to have to leave and I will apologize to you for wasting your time while you are on your way out the door. I’m not trying to be-”
“Shut up, Ariel,” he said, rudely cutting me off, his voice thick with emotion.
He took another step towards me and when I didn’t back away from him, he kept on coming.
I dropped the dress to the floor and held my arms out, waiting for him to reach me. His big, thick arms wrapped around me, engulfing me. I was pulled into his wide chest and he pressed his face into my hair.
“Not to be mean, pretty girl, but I don’t think I want to hear about how you grew up anymore. It’s sad and awful and it makes me angry.”
I nodded, my cheek brushing across the soft fabric of his t-shirt. I didn’t want to make him feel bad and I didn’t want to make him sad and angry. I wouldn’t be sharing with him anymore, not if it made him feel that way.
“Okay,” I said, agreeing with him quickly. “No more sharing. I promise.”
It seemed it was my turn to do the promising.
He sighed loudly and gave me a squeeze.
“I didn’t actually mean it. You can share whatever you want to with me and I will listen to every single word you have to say. I want to know everything you have to tell me.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Not after telling me how my memories made him feel.
His chest shuddered as he blew out a deep breath, causing the hair around my head to stir. His arms lowered, moving away from me and he took a giant step back. I missed his heat and had the urge to be the one to make the next step, to step into him and wrap my arms around his middle. I didn’t. With Addison, I needed him to make the first move. For now. Hopefully not for forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Ten minutes later when Abel breezed through the door with an armful of unmade cardboard boxes, Addison and I had an entire garbage bag filled full of dresses. They had been folded and carefully placed inside the bag. Watching the plastic bag fill up made my heart feel incredibly light.
“I’ve got more in the truck,” Abel said as he dropped the cardboard to the floor. “There’s also a role of tape out there, too.” He clapped his hands, loudly, making me jump. “Alright, pretty girl, where do you want me?”
I grinned at him, making him pause mid-step and blink at me.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “A seriously fucking pretty girl.”
My grin turned into a flat-out smile. I had no problem with them calling me a pretty girl.
A black, high heeled shoe flew through the air and smacked Abel in the cheek. It clattered to the floor as Abel pressed the palm of his hand against the side of his face.
“Explain yourself, twin,” Abel snarled at his brother. “And do it quick or else we are going to have more than words.”
“Maybe I just felt like hitting you with something.” Addison shrugged, like he didn’t have a care in the world, like his twin brother hadn’t just threatened him with violence.
Abel folded his arms over his wide chest and scowled at his brother. A visible red mark marred his cheek. His vibrant green eyes heated, lighting from within with a burning hot rage.
The hair on my arms stood to attention as the atmosphere in the room went electric. Power danced along my skin, making me shiver.
Whatever they were doing, I didn’t think it would end good.
“Calm down, twin,” Addison said as he waved a hand dismissively in his brother’s direction. He hadn’t even bothered to look in said direction. His entire focus was on the clothes hanging before him and if he felt the atmosphere in the room change he didn’t let on. He seemed as cool as could be and completely unconcerned.
Maybe I should pick up a shoe and chuck it at his head? He looked like he could use a good thumping. Then I remembered the look on Quinton’s face when I’d hit him in the head with that rock and thought better of it. Addison was here to help me, and I had already gotten crazy on him once, he didn’t need to add me injuring him to the list.
If I started assaulting all of them, they would likely contact the Council and see about trading me. Not really, though. They weren’t getting rid of me that easily.
Another shoe sailed through the air, this one purple and had a freakishly sharp looking heel about 4 inches long. That sucker could do some serious damage and was probably capable of taking out an eye. It collided with the back of Addison’s white-haired head with a smack before dropping to the floor.
I made a rough, disbelieving noise as my head whipped around, seeking out Abel with my eyes.
He stood there with an angry glower on his face, his wide, thick thighs spread apart, feet planted firmly in the carpet. His arms hung loosely at his sides and he looked alert and ready for almost anything.
What he didn’t look like was someone who had just thrown a shoe at his brother’s head. I should have at least caught his arm lowering.
Hmm… curious.
“Did you… did you just use magic to throw that shoe at your brother’s head?” I asked in an excited voice.
“This isn’t funny, Ariel,” Addison grumbled darkly.
“I’m not laughing,” I told him without taking my eyes off of Abel.
Abel ignored his brother and asked me, “Do you want to learn?”
Boy, did I ever.
I clapped my hands together happily and bounced up and down on the balls of my feet.
“Please,” I whined in an excited voice. There was no hiding just how excited I was at the thought of learning something new.
“What the fuck?” Addison growled. “He just tried to brain me to death with a hooker shoe and neither of you seem concerned about me in the least. I could be bleeding to death over here from the massive head wound I just received courtesy of my own goddamn brother.”
The smile on my face grew bigger by the second and I sincerely wished it had been me who’d thrown the shoe.
“Come here,” Abel ordered softly, and I didn’t hesitate walking straight to him.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Addison grumbled. Abel ignored him, so I did too.
Still smiling, I stopped directly in front of him. He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me until I faced Addison and the way I had come from. His heat hit me as he pressed his front into my back. He placed his hands on my hips and pressed his face in my neck.
“Close your eyes and clear your mind,” he murmured.
Clear my mind? Was he crazy? He had to be. Clearing my mind sounded impossible with his big body pressed into mine and his heat all around me.
I closed my eyes, I could at least do that.
My eyes flew right back open when one of them snickered, I could never tell which one because they always sounded exactly the same. Still, my money was on Addison. Abel had no reason to laugh at me at the moment.
Abel put slight pressure on my hips, squeezing. “Ignore my brother,” he said. “Now, close your eyes and clear your mind. Otherwise, this will never work and we’re wasting our time.”
Abel’s lips, soft and smooth, brushed against the pulse in my throat and I stoppe
d breathing for a second.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured against my overheated skin. “Close your eyes and let it all go.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, ready to try it again. I couldn’t give up after the first try. Addison could laugh at me all he wanted. Abel could get up in my space. Whatever. I could ignore them both.
I blew out another deep breath and relaxed against Abel’s big, warm body. The hands on my hips loosened, he wasn’t holding me to him anymore, just touching me for the sake of touching. I was happy to have him standing at my back, it made relaxing my body all the easier.
With effort, I pushed all the garbage in my head to the side. It wasn’t easy, and it took some time. I stood there, rearranging my thoughts, for a good twenty minutes before I was able to blank my mind and think of absolutely nothing.
The only thing I saw with my eyes closed was darkness. Until I reached for the now ever-present flame I knew was there waiting for me. It was tiny but grew stronger, burning brighter as I reached out to it in my mind.
“Good,” Abel murmured against my ear in encouragement. “Very good. Without opening your eyes, I want you to visualize the object you want to manipulate in your mind. Do you remember what the shoe that hit my twin looks like? Or, even any of the other shoes in this closet. Whatever shoe you pick, I want you to see that, and only that, in your mind’s eye. Nothing else. Once you have it in your sight, it’s yours to manipulate. Like your flame, it’s yours, just waiting for you to do something with it. So, do something with it.”
I was concentrating so hard that I couldn’t come up with something sarcastic to snap at him. Besides, it would ruin my concentration. I couldn’t remember what the shoe that had smacked into the back of Addison’s head looked like. But, I did remember a very pretty black one with only a three-inch heel that looked like something my mother hadn’t bought for herself but had probably been a gift.
