“What’s going to happen when Candace comes back?”
The room was silent for too long before he said, “What do you mean?”
Whatever. He knew exactly what I meant and it bothered me that he pretended he didn’t.
“When Candace comes back? What’s going to happen?”
“To us?”
“Yeah. To us.” It felt weird to talk to my TV about this, but it was easier than looking at his face.
“Babe, she’s back right now. For a few days I think. But what does that have to do with me and you?”
I huffed. Was he purposefully making this difficult? Not wanting to ask if he was going to push me to the side, I went another direction.
“Well, should I be worried about her or anything? Wally told me about what she did to your bartender.” She couldn’t know that he was here with me. If she did, from what I’d heard of her, she should be at my door with an ax, going full on shining right now.
I felt him move on the bed, and then his legs and arms encircled me. “She better not ever touch you. And if she tries, tell me.”
He was missing the point, and I was being vague. “It’s not that. Not really. I mean, I don’t want her to hit me, but what I really want to know is…” the words left me as my vulnerability set in. I tried again. “What I really want to know is are you –”
His arms gave me a gentle squeeze. “I’m not with anyone else,” he confessed. “Just you.”
“Me too,” slipped out of my mouth. His lips came to my shoulder, and I felt him press tiny kisses there. I wanted to believe him. As his mouth trailed up to my neck, I think I believed him. His hands went to my waist. In a swift motion, he grabbed me and threw me back onto the bed. Desire grew inside me as he settled between my legs. When his mouth came to mine and his weight met my body, I did believe him.
After my finals were finished, I was still a bundle of nerves waiting on my grades. Wally took me to one of his movies to help with my anxiety. Lacey and Nicole took me shopping. Charles had me mow the lawn—which didn’t take long enough. Ian was just Ian. And Lucas did what he did best—for hours on end he made sure I thought of nothing but him.
Grades were due to be posted and we were all sitting in his garage. I kept checking the time on my phone. Minutes ticked by like hours. At 5 p.m., I didn’t say anything and raced across the street. My feet flew up the stairs and into my bedroom.
My fingers kept messing up the password to my student login, so I took a deep, calming breath and tried again. Carefully, slowly, I logged in.
I stared at my computer screen for a long time, not believing what I was seeing. I took another breath and came barreling out of my room. Upon reaching the stairs, I saw Lucas standing at the bottom. In a rush, I stumbled down them and jumped into his arms. “All A’s!” I squealed. My legs came around his waist as he lifted me into the air.
“Way to go,” he smiled. The excitement was overwhelming and I started kissing him all over his face. He laughed as he took the onslaught. “We need to celebrate,” he chuckled. “Let me take you to New Orleans. You haven’t been since you moved here.”
“Who’s going to New Orleans?” Wally said from the opening of the living room.
I jerked, and let my legs fall away from Lucas, embarrassed at being seen embracing him that way. “I just got my grades back. All A’s. We’re going to celebrate.”
“Sweet,” Wally added. “Let me go tell everyone else. My cousin has this awesome condo right in the heart of The Quarter. He’s never there. I bet we can all crash at his place.” Lucas sighed as we followed him back outside.
That weekend, everyone but Nicole was able to come. She had previous plans and was pissed that she had to miss it. Lucas insisted on taking his car. It was cramped with the six of us and his trunk was loaded down, but we didn’t have to worry about two vehicles.
Forty-five minutes later, we drove into New Orleans. Wally hadn’t lied when he said that his cousin lived in the heart of the French Quarter. Lucas stopped in front of a funky coffee shop. “This it?” he asked him.
“Yeah. His place is upstairs.”
As I was unloading my small overnight bag, I noticed Lucas still sitting behind the steering wheel. “You aren’t coming in?”
“Gotta park the car. Taking it to a garage a few blocks away. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Want me to come with you?” His lip quirked up as he nodded.
I gave our bags to Charles, and got back in, scooting to the middle. As soon as we pulled onto the street, he brought his hand to my thigh, and I wished we could’ve driven like this the whole way.
The architecture of the city was stunning and I loved watching all the people wandering around as he drove. On our walk back, eagerness overwhelmed me as we slowly strolled through the city. It was still early in the day, and Jackson Square was bustling with artists, living statues, tarot readers, musicians. A woman with dreads sat in front of the church playing a xylophone. The soft whimsical music echoed all around us.
Vagabonds and tourists, families and locals all wandered up and down the streets. I was intoxicated with the beauty of the buildings and people. Two men walked by holding hands and smiled as they passed. A woman with holes torn in her pants and shirt stopped in front of me and reached down to pick up her tiny dog. She cooed at him as she continued on her path. Across the street a juggler did tricks. Every tarot booth was occupied and the people sitting in the ratty cloth chairs wore big grins as their futures were told. The St. Louis Cathedral towered over us, and on either side, big brick buildings encompassed the square, their black iron balconies going down the entire length. A big fenced in garden sat in the middle with all of this liveliness occurring around it. It felt like I was given a gift, as if the City itself was a being that opened its doors and said, “All those who are weary, you are welcome here.”
Something came over me, and I reached for Lucas’ hand. Slowly our fingers came together and he squeezed when they intertwined. We’d never held hands this way before, and it meant something. Turning towards him, I brought my other hand to his face. The gentle sound of the xylophone played as I brought my lips to his. It was soft and sweet and the first time we’d soberly done it in public. This time there was no scapegoat for me to take. If our friends would have been here I might have restrained, but with only strangers around, I didn’t feel the need to hold back. As I pulled away, no one was even giving us a second glance. Lucas looked dazed, but a smile was on his lips.
An artist’s booth caught my eye and I led him over to it. The young girl that was painting had a scarf wrapped around her head, and looked very bohemian. She barely glanced at us as I studied her artwork. The piece that drew my interest was of a girl with dark hair blowing in a breeze as she stood on the edge of a lake. Her back was to us. Her dress was a pretty purple. The colors weren’t vibrant or dull, but somewhere in between. The grass around her feet was tall and rolled with the wind. It made me feel peaceful. I imagined her staring off into the distance of the water, letting the air blow across her face as she realized that everything was going to be okay—that the heartache of the past was fading.
“You like it?” Lucas asked, and I nodded. We were silent for a bit before he said, “This one is my favorite.” I looked to where his finger pointed. It was of a big willow tree. The sunlight broke through some of its branches. Hills cascaded in the background, but the willow sat directly in the center. The greens were vivid and it made me feel peaceful, too. But a different kind of peace—like I could lie under the tree for hours, forgetting the troubles of the world.
“I’ve always had a thing for trees,” he said, caressing my hand. “Especially Willows. I know it’s weird, but I imagine them being these old, wise creatures. Guarding and protecting us.”
“That’s a beautiful way to look at it,” I said, and he smiled down at me, looking embarrassed.
“I want to buy that one for you,” he said, pointing towards my painting.
“Then I’
m buying that one for you.” He playfully narrowed his eyes, but agreed. We paid the bohemian artist and walked to the apartment carrying them. Inside, everyone was sitting around the tiny living room talking about what bars they wanted to go to that night.
“Took you long enough,” Lacey told me.
“We bought paintings.” I smiled and showed her mine. She didn’t like it nearly as much as I did, but that was okay. It felt special, and I liked believing that maybe only I saw the beauty in it.
“We already picked beds,” she said. “You and Lucas are in there.”
I looked to where she was pointing and saw a small room off the living area. It had the space for a double door, but didn’t have one. A curtain hung in its place. Swallowing a gulp, I walked over and looked inside. There was only one bed. Lucas and I had never slept in a bed together—not even for a nap. I wondered why Lacey wasn’t sleeping with me. “Where are you sleeping?” I asked.
“I claimed this couch. Ian has the other. And Charles and Wally have to share the other bed,” she chuckled.
Lucas pulled the curtain aside and went into the room. I watched him set his bag on the floor, and walked over to do the same. My heart rate sped as I thought about it. This wasn’t how I would have wanted this to happen—our friends in the other room, a curtain the only thing separating us.
“You okay with this?” he asked.
“Sure,” I tried to smile.
The clock on the wall said 5:45. We would be going to dinner soon, and then out to some of the local bars. He lay down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. Feeling nervous for no real reason, I climbed up next to him. His hand went to my waist and pushed my shirt up so he could caress my bare skin. “You like it so far?”
“It’s wonderful.” I sighed. “I’m so glad you brought me.” My phone dinged and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was text message from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I realized that my face was contorted into a look of confusion and repulsion. “Yeah. It’s Fontenot. Nicole told him I was in New Orleans. He wants to know if I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Huh,” he said, rolling over to his back and crossing his arms behind his head.
“I wonder why he wants to know.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I tried to decide if I would reply.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Lucas shrugged then got off the bed and walked into the living room, leaving me behind.
At dinner, he hardly spoke to me, but didn’t pull away from my hand at his leg and even draped his arm around the back of my chair. Something was bothering him and I knew it had to be Fontenot. I didn’t want him to think that anything was going on between of us. I hadn’t even given him my number. Nicole had—which was totally shitty. Why would she do that? Giving my number out to someone without asking?
While we ate, I confronted her through text. Apparently, he’d also somehow gotten her number, and she’d been dealing with him for a week. She felt like it was someone else’s turn. If I hadn’t been involved with Lucas, I probably wouldn’t have cared too much. Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He just came on a little too strong. Very sarcastically, I thanked her.
After we paid the check, we went to an awesome karaoke bar called Cat’s Meow. I didn’t sing on the stage, but enjoyed belting it out along with the crowd. Wally and Lacey were with me, but I didn’t know where the others had wandered off.
It was so much fun, I could have stayed there all night, but Wally wanted to show us other places. Out on the street, I saw Lucas, Ian, and Charles huddled with a group of girls. They were all laughing, and I wanted to walk over and plant a kiss on his lips to show that I’d claimed him. Instead, I put on a fake smile and followed Wally.
The girls were clearly inebriated and stumbling into everyone, using arms for support, and cackling like everything said was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. I eyed their low cut tops and short skirts. I scrutinized their smeared mascara and bleached highlights. I analyzed their chipped fingernails and bony legs. And still, a small part of me, found myself lacking, but I pushed it away.
The random girls wanted to go to another bar up the street owned by some celebrity and everyone seemed okay with it—especially Wally. He was practically foaming at the mouth to hang out with them. Lacey shrugged and followed them. Not enthusiastic about it, but not wanting to be a party pooper, I fell in behind and looked at the bars we passed. Signs were posted outside some that said “LIVE SEX!” in big, bold, black letters and I wondered what type of people were in there performing. By the state of the buildings, I couldn’t imagine them being professionals.
Ahead of me, I saw Lucas make a wide turn away from the group and come around the back to grab my arm. Without saying anything, he began leading me in the other direction. “I’ve got something else in mind for us,” he told me with a wink. For a moment, I thought he was going to lead me into one of the sex buildings and had a mini panic attack, but we walked past it and I relaxed.
The loud voices and thumping music of Bourbon Street left us. Taking its place was the gentle rhythm of jazz and guitars spilling out of bars.
“This is Frenchman,” he told me. “You’ll like it.” I smiled as he took my hand and led me to a bar. The stage inside had a bearded man playing an acoustic guitar. A woman sat behind him with a violin, and I swallowed the emotions I felt at hearing the strings fill the room. His voice was both raspy and smooth, small imperfections lingering every time his voice strained. With his eyes closed, he sang, his fingers moving along the neck with a practiced ease. Every time his face contorted passionately with a lyric, I could feel his heartache as if it were my own. My eyes didn’t leave him as Lucas led me to a small table. “He’s good isn’t he?” he smiled. My answer was a huffed vibration of lips. He was better than good.
Lucas left to get us beers and when he returned, we quietly sipped them as the man on stage performed. We didn’t even speak to each other—our joined hands the only contact we needed as we became lost in the music. Occasionally, he would give my hand a squeeze when he noticed me really appreciating the soulful rhythms, and I would turn to him and smile.
After the set was done, Lucas led me back outside. It was late and we decided we should probably meet up with everyone else. As we walked, he took my hand. “Thank you for taking me here,” I said. “I know your bar is busy, and it was hard for you to get away.”
His thumb started moving against my skin as he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve wanted to bring you for a while. So thank you for letting me.” His smile made me feel warm, and I reached my other hand across my body to wrap it around his arm. We walked like that until we found everyone else. Wally and Charles weren’t ready to leave, so we took his key and went back to the apartment with Ian and Lacey.
Later, as I was about to get in bed, I felt anxious. This was a completely new level of intimacy for us. Countless times, he’d seen me naked, but I still felt the need to put my back to him as I changed into pajamas. When I turned around, he was shirtless and only wearing his boxers. Without a hesitation, he pulled the covers back and got in. His sparrow tattoo faced me, and to distract myself I started counting the number of birds. I reached five when he stretched his arm out to me.
Smiling, I scooted across the bed and hugged my arms around his torso. The last thing I felt before falling asleep was the gentle press of his lips to the top of my head.
The next morning, Lucas wasn’t in bed when I woke, and I was disappointed. But we were in a hurry to leave so Ian could be home for something, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it. On the way back, I sat next to Lucas in the front. Music was playing on the radio and after a while, I started softly singing along with it.
Wally groaned in the backseat. “Marlowe, shut your tone deaf ass up. That shit ain’t helping this hangover.” I scowled at him over my shoulder. He was so rude! Seeing my glare only made his mouth slowly spread into a grin.
“S
he has a beautiful voice,” Lucas cut in.
“Please,” Wally added. “You have to say that. She’s your… your…” I tensed as I anticipated him saying something else embarrassing. “… your whatever,” he finished and I relaxed.
Lucas chuckled and I leaned into his arm. I could be his whatever. When I put my hand on his thigh, he brought his down on top of mine and threaded our fingers. I smiled, realizing I didn’t care if anyone saw it.
Chapter 16
A few days before Christmas, Juanita called saying that she and my father had plans for the holidays—so again, I would be alone. Thanksgiving hadn’t been horrible, but I knew Christmas would be. My mother and sister had died two days before it. For the past seven years, a cloud had hung over those days. Before I met Mark, I didn’t leave my room for the entire week. After we started dating, he initially went out of his way to make sure we stayed busy and filled my days with happy memories. But as time went on, he stopped. Without saying it, I knew he thought that I should be moving on. And I had tried. I wasn’t curling into a ball or crying in a corner. I was just sad—sad because I knew I’d never see them again. Sad because they were lost to me. Sad because I’d never give my sister another present. Or receive one from my mom.
My mother always gave me useless gifts—things that I’d never asked for or would even use. Not because she didn’t care. She would get so excited as I opened them, thinking that I was going to love whatever was inside. One year she gave me skis because I’d told her I liked a documentary about the sport, but had never set foot on a ski slope. One year it was an entire line of perfume from a shop I’d told her looked nice from the outside. She thought she was getting me the perfect gift. After a few failed attempts, the skis collected dust in our attic, and the perfume smelled like rubbing alcohol. Now that she was gone, I missed that the most. Useless gifts at Christmas.
Starting Fires Page 19
