This Is Not About Love

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  Penelope handed the gym bag to her, and they locked arms as they strolled out the exit doors of the gym and headed across the parking lot to their Cadillac Escalade.

  “Hey, jerk,” Angela greeted her soon-to-be stepbrother.

  He was slumped down in the backseat, and as usual he was lost in the land of Nintendo DS. He finished whatever it was he was doing and looked up at her with a sheepish smile. “You’re the jerk, jerk,” he said, shoving the game system into his ratty, old Land’s End backpack and buckling his seatbelt. “How was practice? Did you learn how to curl your hair and paint your nails today or what?”

  She punched him in the arm and scooted over next to him, reaching for her own seatbelt. “As a matter of fact, jerk, I actually landed my back tuck today without a spotter. So there,” she taunted, sticking out her tongue at him.

  ***

  Elijah Sinclair couldn’t help but smile at Angie. She was the most gorgeous girl at Riverside High School. Unlike some of the other pretty girls, she wasn’t a snob. She was smart and friendly and seemingly unaware of her own beauty. She was technically the “new girl,” but needless to say, she was having no problems fitting in with everyone. It was hard not to love Angie with her bubbling personality, contagious smile, and natural good looks.

  When Elijah’s father introduced him to his new girlfriend, Penelope, he was less than pleased. His mother had run off several years earlier, and he kind of liked having his dad all to himself—not to mention that Penelope seemed like a snooty bitch with all her jewelry, fancy clothes, and an endless assortment of bizarre looking purses that apparently cost a small fortune. She was nothing like his mother, but hell, maybe that was a good thing too. However, he still hated the idea of his dad and Penelope together.

  But Elijah’s mind quickly changed when she introduced him to her daughter, Angela. Angie was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and she was nothing like her prissy mother. Plus, he and Angie had a lot in common. He played basketball at Riverside High School, and she was a cheerleader at Crimson. His mom had pretty much abandoned him at the age of six, and her father had died when she was young. Plus, they both loved to joke around and play video games in their spare time. Needless to say, they hit it off from the start.

  Elijah had mixed feelings about his father’s engagement and the subsequent new home they had decided to purchase together as a family. Living together meant Angie would transfer to Riverside, and he would get to see her all the time. That was a good thing. But now that his dad and her mom were engaged, didn’t that make them like brother and sister? He shuddered at the thought as he refrained from looking over at her long, tan legs and golden blonde hair.

  After the engagement, they had purchased a monstrous home that was so not his dad’s style in a ritzy, new building development. The development was located in the small town of Oaksdale, which was where his father had grown up. Every house in the subdivision looked identical, which sort of gave Elijah the creeps. The fact that his father apparently loved Penelope was probably the only reason he agreed to give up their comfortable man-pad. The inside of the new house was awesome though, he had to admit, and he and Angie practically had the entire second floor to themselves. He was also relieved that the move didn’t mean changing schools, since they were still located within the allowed school district for Riverside. Angie was okay with switching from Crimson to Riverside High because Riverside had the best cheerleading squad in the state. So, all in all, the whole transition seemed to be working out for everyone—except for the whole weird brother-sister thing.

  ***

  Penelope started the SUV and slowly pulled out of the school parking lot on to the main street. Oaksdale was a small town that consisted of six cross streets and a main road. Penelope had lived in Mellville, a much larger neighboring town, most of her life. Moving here was worth it though, she thought. Oaksdale did not consist of much, but it had one thing going for it: Michael Sinclair. She would have moved anywhere with him no matter how small or big. They’d been dating for only a short time but soon they would be married, and they had recently bought a brand new home in Oaksdale’s most prestigious neighborhood, Glenn Heights. Oaksdale had been Michael’s choice so she had insisted on choosing the house. She had chosen the biggest and best house in town.

  It was the kind of home she had always dreamed of with its clubhouse, gym membership, and perfectly manicured lawns. She felt like a princess, and Michael was her prince. Elijah needed a mother, and Angie needed a father. It all seemed to be working out perfectly, really. And the kids seemed to get along so well.

  She adjusted her rearview mirror so she could see them in the back of the SUV. “Elijah, you ready for pizza?” she asked.

  “Hell yeah we are,” Angie answered for him.

  “Language, Angie,” she scolded, raising her eyebrows in the mirror.

  “Yes, Mom…” Angie rolled her eyes, giving Elijah a conspiratorial wink.

  Elijah leaned forward. “Can we stop for ice cream too?”

  “I can do even better than that. Your dad got you a cake and ice cream. He’s meeting us at the pizza place,” Penelope told him.

  “How did he get off so early today?” Elijah asked.

  “He took the day off…said he wouldn’t miss your sixteenth birthday for the world.”

  ***

  Elijah smiled and glanced out the window as they passed Mandy’s Fruit Market and old Dr. Middleton’s house on the hill. His eyes glazed over, and for the first time in a long time, his thoughts drifted to his mother. Did she know it was his birthday? If so, did she even care? He pushed the thoughts of her aside as he so often did as they pulled into the pizza place. His father’s Jeep Cherokee was already there. He hopped out before the car had even come to a full stop and ran over to greet his dad.

  ***

  Angie reached for her door too, but Penelope reached back to stop her, lightly placing her hand on her leg, “Try not to overeat, honey. You know how those extra calories can slow you down in the gym. And you need to fit in that skirt for the game next week,” Penelope reminded her.

  “Okay, Mom,” Angie whined as she looked achingly out the window at Elijah and Michael. She wished her mother accepted her as easily as Michael did Elijah. It was hard to imagine that he would be her stepfather soon. Even though she liked him well enough, she yearned for her own father. Her memories of him were vivid despite how young she was when he died. She remembered that he was tall with kind eyes and a smile that could light up her whole world. Then, one day, he was gone. A sudden, massive heart attack, her mother had explained. To an eight-year-old, losing a parent was the end of the world. Her own heart had been literally ripped from her chest—at least that’s how it had felt for many years after his death.

  Her father was a gentle, carefree man who had brought out the very best in her mother. At least that’s how she remembered it when she allowed her mind to drift back into her hazy, eight-year-old memories. She missed her father dearly, and she knew he would never get on her for her weight or any other petty, little thing like her mother always did.

  As she watched father and son embrace, she felt slightly ashamed for feeling sorry for herself. Elijah had lost a parent too. In a way, she was luckier than he. At least her father hadn’t abandoned her by choice. His mother had apparently checked out early for reasons unknown. She walked up to her soon-to-be brother and slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go pig out, birthday boy…”

  Penelope and Michael followed behind them. “I’m glad you took the day off. He’s so excited, Michael,” Penelope said.

  “It was worth it. God knows he deserves a real birthday. The last two years I’ve had to work on his birthdays,” Michael admitted with a tight frown.

  “Well, not anymore,” Penelope replied. “He has a whole family to celebrate with now.”

  Michael nodded and opened the door to the restaurant for her. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, but everyone else was too happy to notice.

  Chapter
Three

  Lexi Ambrose kicked the Malibu’s tire with her black combat boot and hollered an angry string of curses at no one in particular. This is just great, she thought as she leaned on the hood of the car and pulled a cigarette out of her army-green satchel. She reached for the lighter in her jacket pocket but then realized she’d left it beside the bathroom mirror at home. “Damn it!” she hollered.

  She opened the car door and yanked her duffel bag out onto the sidewalk. Carrying this thing is going to be a bitch, she thought. She swung it and the satchel over her right shoulder and limped up the street toward work. Luckily, she’d gotten a flat only two blocks from work. God knew she couldn’t afford to be late again today…

  Lexi finally saw the pink neon sign of the Clamshell buzzing in the soft moonlight. She waved to the guard, Charlie, as she trudged through the front door.

  “Working up quite a sweat already, eh?” Charlie teased. She shot him a look that said don’t fuck with me and wiped her brow as she slid the bags off her arm onto the floor of her office. After digging a pack of matches out of an old jacket that hung on her chair, she lit up a cigarette and took a deep, relieving drag.

  It was Friday, and although that meant she would probably make good money today, she hated Fridays. There is nothing more depressing than spending a Friday night seducing men you would never want to go home with. And this particular Friday was worse because it was the second of April, and that meant it was Elijah’s birthday.

  Lexi stubbed out the cigarette and quickly started powdering her face, neck, and arms. She ran a comb through her long, dark hair and put on red lipstick. One of her colleagues took a seat at the dressing table next to her and gave her a curt nod. The girls here were less than friendly, but Lexi supposed that’s how it was at most strip joints. She used a Kleenex to blot her lips and then gave herself a smile that was intended to be reassuring but looked sinister instead. Showtime!

  Chapter Four

  Violet’s body felt stiff and achy as she made her way down the second flight of stairs to the great room. She headed straight for the kitchen, the way she did most mornings, and started a pot of coffee. Her night had been restless and riddled with strange dreams that she could not even begin to recall at this early hour.

  She reached for her cigarette pack and headed into the great room. She threw a few logs on the fire and settled down on the brown leather sofa under her favorite afghan. This was her favorite room in the whole house, and it was her routine to start her mornings out right here, just like this. She lit a cigarette and leaned back with her eyes closed. Alex would be home in two days. He’d called last night to give her his flight information, and although she offered to pick him up from the airport, he’d strangely insisted upon taking a cab and meeting her at home. She had mixed feelings about his return, and she had been busying herself with housework and shopping all week in preparation of his arrival. She planned on making enchiladas on his first night home since they were his favorite. “What am I doing?” she groaned aloud, “this is all so crazy.” The doorbell chimed in response, and she nearly dropped her cigarette in her lap. Who the hell was at her door this early in the morning?

  Expecting a nosy neighbor, or worse, some annoying salesperson, she pulled open the door with a sigh. To say she was surprised to see Michael Sinclair on her doorstep was an understatement. She looked at him in confusion, since they had both agreed not to meet at her home after their first irresponsible rendezvous. But his warm eyes melted her heart, and she moaned with delight as he grabbed her around the waist and carried her into the great room. He sat her down on the couch and pressed his lips to hers. His lips felt great, like they belonged there all the time. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? I thought we agreed…” she started to say.

  He shushed her by placing a finger to her lips. Kneeling on the Oriental rug, he pressed his face in her lap, and she stroked his hair. They sat in silence for several minutes before she asked him if he was okay “Talk to me, Michael,” she pleaded.

  He looked at her with wet eyes and said, “I’ve missed you, terribly, and I just don’t know what to do with all of these feelings I have for you…”

  It was her turn to shush him. She led him into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for him before heading over to the coffee pot. She poured him a cup and lit another cigarette for herself before settling down on the chair beside him.

  “I feel the same way, Michael. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat…hell, I’ve been having panic attacks for weeks now,” she admitted. He shook his head in regret and buried his face in his hands.

  “I’m so sorry, love. I feel like such a shithead.” His eyes filled with tears again, and she placed her hand over his gently.

  “Michael, this is just as much my fault as it is yours. For God’s sake, you are the one with children in this situation, so that makes me the homewrecker here,” she said with a look of disgust and shame on her face. “I’ve never cheated on anyone, and I’ve never dated someone who was engaged, let alone someone with children,” she said.

  “Me neither…well, we can’t say that anymore because here we are,” he reminded her.

  “Michael…”

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe it’s best that we don’t see each other anymore. I mean, I wish we would have gotten together when we were young, or before I got married and you got engaged, but we didn’t. I mean, the truth of the matter is, I don’t know what I’m going to say or do when Alex gets home. I may just confess the second he walks through the door, who knows? I’m a horrible liar, and I don’t even know if I can go forward with this marriage regardless of whether you’re in the picture or not. Everything has changed now. Everything…” she said as she stared out the old picture window, focusing on her vegetable garden instead of looking at him.

  She wanted to cry. She could remember the day that she and Alex had planted the seeds for it. It was a delightful day, and filled with much excitement, as they read the directions and information on the packets and then coaxed the tiny seeds into the dirt with loving care. They had fantasized about how big their vegetables would grow someday—ten foot tall corn stalks and heads of cabbage the size of bowling balls. From here, she could make out the shape of several potatoes, tomatoes, and corn stalks. Our garden is flourishing, and like everything else in our relationship, Alex is going to miss it, she thought. He had been gone so long that his absence had become the norm; it was when he was home that the house felt unusual and unfamiliar to her.

  Michael reached for her hand again, but she barely noticed. All she wanted to do right now was crawl into her bed, listen to depressing music, and cry alone with her head under the pillow. Michael wiped her tears away and the next thing she knew, he was lifting her out of the chair and carrying her up the steps.

  “But Michael…” she started to protest. Who was she kidding? If they were going to end it, she at least wanted to make love to him one last time. Who could blame her?

  Michael carried her up the first flight of stairs, but he started to struggle on the second flight, and the next thing she knew, they were both bursting with laughter. He sat her down on the top landing and reached for his lower back.

  “You were lighter when you were eleven,” he joked. She promptly kicked him in the shin and took off running toward the large canopy bed in the center of the attic floor. She plunged onto the cushiony bedspread face first, burying her face into the satiny duvet. She heard him undressing, and then she felt him slipping off her sweatpants. She was embarrassed by his confidence, yet reassured and turned on by his amazing ability to take charge in bed. She had had few lovers, and none of them came close in comparison to Michael.

  He removed her panties and rolled her over before pulling off her t-shirt and sports bra. He looked at her body appreciatively, and surprised by her own boldness, she laid back on the bed, placing her hands behind her head. She enjoyed letting him look at her, and she was reminded of how different her relationship with Michael was to her relation
ship with Alex.

  It wasn’t that Alex was bad in bed; it was just that she and Michael seemed to take sex and intimacy to a whole new level. He made her feel like a model, and sex came so naturally she didn’t even have to think about—or worry about—any of her usual insecurities the way she did with most men. Michael made her feel sexier than she had ever felt before, and she loved it.

  After making love, they lay on the bed naked and smoked Romeo and Juliet cigars. Apparently, Michael had taken the day off to spend with her, unbeknownst to his wife. He wanted to see her again and couldn’t wait, he’d explained.

  “You just wanted to bang me again,” she joked, and they giggled like old pals. He puffed on his cigar, and she did the same.

  “I can’t believe you bought this old place, Violet. It’s just the way I remember it as a kid…Did you know that I was friends with Dr. Middleton’s son, Lucas?” he asked.

  “No, I did not know that,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes as he spoke.

  “Yeah, we were pretty close for a while before I left for college. I stayed the night here a few times, and Lucas held some pretty cool parties here back in the day.”

  “Wow, that’s weird. I never knew him. I guess he went to Riverside High with you?”

  “Yep. Sure did. I think he moved to Arizona or somewhere like that.”

  “I’m surprised old Dr. Middleton didn’t leave this place to him then,” Violet pondered. “You would think that he would want his son to inherit an old family home such as this.”

  Michael chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Don’t you remember the old man? He was an ass…”

  “Still, you would think he would want his son to have it instead of some stranger. I guess I just assumed he had no family, and that’s why the house went up for sale after he passed away.”