Fortunately, the instructor turns the lights down and the class begins. I move with grace and ease because I’ve been taking these classes for ten years, since Bash started preschool. When I first started the classes I hated them, but now I lose myself in the stretching, bending and tightening.
I began taking these classes after I gave up. After I released my ideals and desires into the air and they disappeared, not even stopping long enough for me to change my mind, the person I was, wanted to be, dissipated in front of my own eyes then and I’d transformed into someone else. Someone I loathe.
I blink awake and the sight in front of me sends chills all over my body. The butterflies that made their home in my gut are fully awake now. His dark hair falls carelessly over his bronze face that could’ve been etched in stone. He has a mole on his jawline, that’s his only imperfection, but I like it. If he was perfect there is no way he would date me, love me, want me.
His breath touches my face and I close my eyes. The heat I feel coming off his body causes me an itch to caress every inch of his body. I try not to giggle, then I feel his erection on my thigh and I sigh. I glance at my engagement ring and sigh again at the perfection of my life. I’m about to start my senior year of college at Clemson University and I just agreed to marry this man. This man is about to be mine.
His hands find my face and he kisses me without even opening his eyes. His lips are soft, but firm. My hands stay pressed to my sides, but my body is turned and pressed to his, chill bumps spread down my arms and legs. There is a weird sensation in my mind that I’m about to jump off a cliff. I want to soar.
His hands run down my body and grab both butt cheeks pulling me closer into his dick. I groan and take him all in. I kiss his neck and lick the shell of his ear.
“Your body is made for me,” he murmurs as he trails kisses down to my right nipple. The chill I feel on the path he makes leaves me trying to get closer to Sebastian. I want to climb into his skin and try it on. I want to always have his huge hands around the back of my thighs pulling me onto his erection.
He flips us to where he’s on his back, my hands are pressed into his chest. I like that he has a smattering of hair across his pectorals. I’m obsessed with his scar under his left arm. Him currently moaning my name is everything.
“Rebecca,” he grits out as his hips lift and drop in a fashion that won’t let me control my tempo as I ride him, but the angle in which he is making me meet him is just enough friction to…
“Oh God,” I scream and my head falls forward. He doesn’t slow his pace and the pleasure is so intense it almost hurts and my orgasm rips through me. He pinches my nipple and the sensory overload is too much, I want to fold into myself. My mind explodes in such a peaceful feeling that I can’t believe it’s actually happening. I never thought I would feel this way again.
Happy.
I fall to the side of Sebastian and run my hands over his chest.
“I think,” he whispers, but I prop myself up and kiss him before he can finish his sentence. I devour him and want him to know what it means. I want him to know that I will do whatever he wants from me, that he owns me already. I’ve put up a faux fight so that he’ll think I’m playing hard to get, but he had me early on with his lopsided smile, his constant touching and laughing. I was a goner. I want him to know all of that in one kiss. I pull back and stare into his eyes that cut me in two. “Me too,” he comments.
My heart clenches in regret, in lust, in elation. He loves me. I’m loved. I can be loved.
CHAPTER TWO
Illusion of Choice
When class ends, I sip from my environmentally friendly water bottle and I stretch my back a bit, cooling down. I researched this particular bottle and got one that had the least impact on the environment. It cost $35.00, for a water bottle. I’d laughed as I purchased four. As I pull my top back over my head the instructor appears in front of me.
“Great class Veronica.”
“You seem distracted,” Veronica comments putting her hand on my arm.
My lips turn up in a perfected smirk. “No, just a typical Monday. I made lists of things I have to do in my mind the entire class.”
“You have so much to do. You need to let it all go when you’re here,” Veronica acknowledges and rebuffs me all at once. I know she means well, so I shrug amicably and tell her to fuck off in my mind.
“See you tomorrow,” I call to everyone as I make my way to the front of the studio. I slip my coat and boots on. I walk outside into the glacial morning, the gray clouds stubbornly remaining low in the sky. When I look back into the studio all of the women are congregating at the front near the windows studying me in a way that makes me nervous. I wave and smile again as I climb into my SUV. The one I never imagined driving. Then I drive to my house to shower in a house that I never wanted.
“I just think you should be careful,” Jessica, my roommate and best friend, opines as she paints her toenails a color called Don’t Know. We’ve lived together since we got to college, last year we lived in the freshman dorm.
I tie the halter straps of my coral dress around my neck and cock my head at her.
“I’m just saying.” She doesn’t look at me, but examines her pink toes. I hate pink. I hate her sometimes too.
I debate responding to her and then decide it’s not worth it. I really think she’s jealous that my boyfriend is older and successful and loves me. She can’t get a boy to stay with her longer than two months.
“Are you going home?” I change the subject.
She sighs. “I guess. Samantha was hoping you would come too.” Her brown eyes glance up at me through the curtain of red hair that covers her face. Samantha is our other best friend from home.
“I can’t.”
Several years of history, bad decisions and regret pass between us. There is no going back for me.
Home. My stomach rolls and I push the need to vomit down into my shoes. I don’t have a place to go anymore. My home is Sebastian.
CHAPTER THREE
Open Your Eyes
Bending down, I pull on my yellow rubber gloves and begin cleaning Bash’s toilet. This is the worst cleaning task I take on in the house. A thirteen year old boy who plays baseball should have better aim at hitting the toilet. I lean over and brush my hair out of my face. I stare into the toilet and feel the familiar rush of anxiety. I stand up straight and turn, staring at myself in the mirror in his bathroom.
I ask myself every other hour now how did I stay, not why. I know why I stayed, but I really don’t understand how I actually did it, how I physically compelled myself to withstand the sort of life I’ve lived since I was twenty-two. It wasn’t all bad. Even I hesitate in saying that because I know how that sounds, I wonder if I’m just placating myself, if my mind says this to the more reasonable part of my brain to rationalize what I’ve done to protect one part of me from another part of me. It doesn’t make much sense, sometimes I wonder if I ever make sense.
Sebastian Pryor was always a dream for me. With stars in my eyes I dove headfirst into him, no worries that I’d break my neck from the shallow pool. He was my knight in shining armor. I never had a doubt...until I did. I always thought he loved me over anyone else, even when I found out about his extracurricular activities. I thought I could change and it’d be better, he’d be better. I know how ridiculous this sounds, now. But I can tell you when I was in it, with his licking and touching, with his apologies and gifts, I talked myself into believing he would change. I convinced myself that no one has the perfect marriage that every marriage goes through challenges. That I should fight for us and the idea of what we were going to be. Once I had Bash it made my battling even more urgent. Should I give up just because of a…oh hell, who am I kidding, I collapsed under the weight of Sebastian. I’m weak and it took me years to realize that I should leave. It’s hard to swallow that once I leave there would be an entire world out there without Sebastian Pryor. I turned my dream of a perfect family and wedded blis
s into a fantasy where I’m cherished that was just beyond my reach. I couldn’t stop myself from grasping for it, even though every time I swiped, on tip-toe, at that dream it just made me realize I’d never get there.
I gave up on my dream when Bash was three. It took me that long to let go of this notion that if I changed myself that we’d be okay. I wish I wouldn’t have done that. If I could change it I would, but my mom used to tell me a rhyme about wishes being frogs and bumping their humps or something. I’ve changed everything about myself so often to please Sebastian I don’t know who I am or who I was or who I want to be. There are times when I have a decision to make that I wonder, what would Rebecca do…what would she choose?
Anyway, these were the moments that I would cling to that would get me through my darkest times.
Sebastian lays sprawled out on the bed watching a Seahawks game, Bash at eighteen months old draped over his chest. His black hair tousled haphazardly, eyes fighting the nap that is written all over his face. Bash had been sick and only wanted Sebastian. It was the first time that had ever happened and Sebastian strutted out of the bedroom at four in the morning like a peacock. I fought tears. I was Bash’s mom, he always wanted me. I didn’t know what I’d done. Instead of closing my eyes and sinking back into sleep, I’d stared at the ceiling from our bed and stewed. I peer into my bedroom now and take in a heady breath. Dreams run behind my eyelids as I think of how I always pictured my life. My husband cuddling with my son, skin on skin creating a chasm in my chest that longed for peace. I’ve longed for this picture, except I wanted to be in it. I tip-toe over to the bed and crawl into the crook of the arm that scares me, the hand that pushes me and the man that both terrifies and consumes me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Even Salt Looks Like Sugar
Getting back into the swing of things has made me more peaceful, Bash has been back in school for a few weeks and I’m busier than ever. There are things I do on a daily basis that neither my son nor my husband know about. I open the back of my Range Rover and a sting of dread falls over me because I’m going to miss things. Like it or not, I’ve grown accustomed to a certain way of life. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me that I won’t be able to get anything I want, but it’ll be worth it. Pulling open the compartment in the back right side of my Rover gives me a bit of solace to my growing case of nerves. I place a thousand dollars into a Kate Spade clutch that I hide there until I can make it to the bank. Hidden in the back, nestled in all the cash I’d stashed over the last several years was my other phone. I glance at it and a thrill runs through my body when I see there are missed messages. I don’t dare look right now, but put the bag back in the compartment and shut the back of the SUV.
Looking around nervously, I hurry to the diner where I’m supposed to be meeting to talk about the fundraiser art show at Bash’s school. I sigh in anticipation of the job ahead of me. I need to determine what sort of budget we have and how to get what they all wanted in the easiest way I can. The pressure of my position or the appearance of my position sometimes drags me from one week to the next. One event to the next. One year to the next. The hassle of it all is exhausting¸ but being Rebecca Pryor means doing things like this for Bash’s school. I’m very involved because I “have nothing else to do.” This is what Sebastian told me once. I do nothing.
My knee length vintage looking leather coat is buttoned, my cream cashmere scarf wrapped expertly around my neck. I smooth my hands down my coat to ensure my navy pencil skirt and across the cowl neck of my butter colored sweater underneath are situated before I enter the restaurant. A cheerful expression slides into place and I wave at my three colleagues on this committee for the PTA.
I place my purse on my seat as I slide my coat off my shoulders and hang it on the hook next to the back of the booth. Coffee mugs with different shades of red lipstick marks are scattered over the table with napkins.
“Rebecca, I love that skirt.” I slide into the booth next to Marcy. Cheryl and Sissy sit on the other side. Phones, binders and pads spread over the table show that I’m a bit late.
“I’m so sorry I’m running a bit late,” I acknowledge.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I just passed out the budget from last year with the businesses that donated and their contact numbers for us to split.” Marcy pushes papers in front of me and I take a look at forty-five names of companies in the surrounding area.
“Wow, really?”
“Yep, Dee Dee was in charge last year and it was amazing. We have to do bigger, better. We have to make her event look like junior high school shit,” Sissy says with a determined look on her face.
“Well, she got most of the smaller businesses around the school and we need to go bigger. Rebecca, I see that your husband’s company didn’t donate last year, any chance you can sweet talk him into throwing some money at the event?”
It’s warped how people that start to have a bit of power twist it into other things. How did this go from a couple of stay at home moms offering to help out to an entire enterprise where the sole goal is to beat Dee Dee Morgan.
“Of course,” I say without conviction. “I’m sure I’ll be able to talk him into a platinum level donation.” The smirk that appears on my face is solely for these ladies’ benefit and they eat it up.
“We know you can,” Cheryl jokes.
“I bet your negotiating skills are interesting,” Sissy comments.
My eyes narrow immediately. You have to watch these bitches.
My heart is beating so fast I think it may pump out of my chest. I nervously crawl out of the bedroom window and run down the quiet tree lined street to the main road. The dust kicks up behind me as I leave the dirt road and turn onto the paved road. I’ve never snuck out of the house before, but it’s exhilarating. Pulling out the cigarettes I bought from the gas station yesterday, I light one up and blow smoke into the night.
My mom’s new boyfriend is spending the night and listening to what was going on in the bedroom next to me was too much for my sixteen year old ears to hear. I love my mom, because she’s my mom, but sometimes I despise her. I want a relationship like Samantha, my best friend, and her mom. A relationship where my Mom isn’t worried about the next man to take care of her and her focus is on me. One where she’d care that I was named MVP of the competition cheerleading squad. I’m not sure where I’m walking, but I have an inclination and let my feet take me where they want.
After walking for thirty minutes, I turn up a dirt road to a familiar hunting club where I know my boyfriend will be watching football. I didn’t tell him I was coming, I just need to see him, feel him, to feel something real. I depend on him so much, but I can’t help myself. He’s everything to me and he loves me as much as I love him. To be loved like that is all I want. I want us to get married and love each other through everything.
“What you doing here missy?” An old man who I recognize as one of my boyfriend’s dad’s friends intercepts me as soon as I see the hunting lodge.
“I’m coming to see Seaver,” I answer and stop walking to stand in front of him.
“He know you’re coming?” The man is in typical hunting attire, camouflage everything, and is drinking a beer.
“Yes sir,” I lie.
His hard eyes examine my lie, turn it over, and then relent. He steps back and takes another gulp of beer. “It’s late for you to be walking around here by yourself.”
I nod and move quickly toward the lodge. When I swing the door open a grin breaks out over my lips when I see Bryson Seaver, the love of my life, Jake, Kelly and Brian all shirtless yelling at the Clemson vs University of South Carolina game. It’s quite the rivalry in these parts, it divides families.
“Bullshit!” Seaver is standing yelling at the screen and the three others are laughing. Seaver roots for South Carolina, the others are Clemson fans. His head turns to the door as the screen bangs closed. Surprise registers on his face. “Becs,” he calls and motions me over. “What’re you doing here
? You know its dudes only.” His eyes are already focused back on the game.
I nod, but I drag my fingernails over his chest and I hug him hello. He looks down at me, knowing what I want. “I was bored and thought I’d see what y’all were doing.”
“Did you walk over here?” He’s incredulous.
I nod.
“Dammit Becs, you should’ve called. I would’ve come and got you.”
“I brought a marker,” I say shrugging, knowing he’ll know what I want to do.
I honestly don’t know why he’s worried, I’m fine. Sometimes boys are so stupid. Nothing would happen out here, it is the safest place on the planet. Seaver’s eyebrows raise then he glances toward the screen. I sigh and grab a beer from the cooler sitting in between the fold up chairs they are sitting in. Seaver walks over to the corner where several additional chairs rest against the wall. He puts one next to him and I sink into it.
“You are the love of my life,” he whispers as he sits down and pulls my chair closer to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rotten Family Tree
I’m roasting eggplant for dinner. The pungent smell of garlic fills the kitchen, Sebastian hates garlic. I skip the song that was playing to the next and my hips sway on their own accord as I lose myself in blending the cheese mixture for the rollatini. Bash is at the table with his headphones on, he doesn’t like my “old lady music.” He has bad taste in music, even though there is one artist that I feel like shouldn’t be considered pop, she sings of fire and gold and monsters. It’s like she’s my spirit animal.
My music stops and my ringtone sounds through the speakers.
“This is Rebecca,” I answer.
Quiet Lies Page 2
