by Misti Murphy
"And Slayers?"
I wrapped my arm around her and forgot about Zack, while we watched episode after episode, and she fell asleep nestled up against my side.
Chapter Six
"Clo tutored me in English, and I taught her what I knew about cars. The more time we spent together, the closer we got. I loved every minute, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. I tried not to want more. All I wanted was for her to be happy."
March 2005
I wiped the dipstick on a rag, and put it back. The GTO ran smoother than it had since Dad bought it. Over the past six months, I’d spent a lot of time working to get it running the way it was supposed to. Resting my hands on the chassis, I leaned under the hood. "Hey, come here."
Clo got up off the floor and discarded the Chemistry book she’d been studying. Dusting the seat of her pants, she made her way over to me.
"You see this?" I ran my hand over the engine. "It’s a Bobcat 400."
She stared at the innards of the car before examining her fingernails. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
I chuckled. "Basically, it means it goes fast."
Hitching a leg on the bumper, she leaned against the chassis. "I’m never going to understand it when you talk about cars."
With the backdrop of my prize possession and her hair cascading down over her shoulders, her beauty forced me to take a step back. It was either that or wrap her leg around me while I kissed her, my hands tangled in her hair, but I couldn’t put her in that position. I couldn’t be the one to break her and Zack up, even if he deserved it. "Do you want to take it for a spin?"
She glanced over her shoulder at the car. "Maybe one day you could take me for a drive, and we could have a picnic out near Red Dog Hill."
The idea appealed to me, but I didn’t think she knew that Red Dog was where everyone went to make out. Still, I wouldn’t say no to taking her up there. "I’d like that."
"We better get to studying. Zack is picking me up in an hour."
I’d almost forgotten him; I wished I could. Wiping my hands on a fresh rag, I went to the fridge to get a couple of sodas. Clo gathered up her books, and we headed into the backyard.
"What are we studying today?"
"Chemistry for me," she replied, "You have an English paper due Monday. You need to finish it." She snatched the book out of my hand.
"Is that a challenge?" I took a seat at the table. When I read and wrote, the words on the page often got jumbled and backward until I couldn’t make sense of them. Until Clo had started studying with me, I’d often gotten so frustrated I’d give up, but since we’d started working together I found myself needing to live up to what she believed I was capable of.
"You’re doing a lot better. Come on, get organized," she said over the top of her chemistry book. I’d picked it up once out of curiosity, but I hadn’t understood a word of it.
Letting out an exaggerated groan, I leaned down to get my books from my bag. We played this game each time we studied together, and I’d never admit to how much I enjoyed it, or how much my grades had improved because of it.
"Get your homework out already," she snapped at me and stuck out her tongue.
"Fine."
I’d interject questions whenever I got stuck, and she helped me find the answers. She never gave them up, insisting I do the work myself. Shoulders aching, I scribbled down the final words on the two-page essay, and glanced up to find her checking her watch. The sun was trekking toward the horizon, and I rubbed a hand over my eyes.
"Zack should be here any minute." She jumped up and stuffed her things back in her bag.
Happy I’d finished my English paper I picked up my bag. "We’ll go up to the house and wait. I’m starving."
Dumping both our bags inside the door, I went into the kitchen and she trailed after me. "Do you want anything?"
She darted a glance between her watch and the front door. "Yes, I guess."
I opened the fridge and stared at the almost empty space. "How do you feel about peanut butter?"
She nodded, and I set about slathering it on a couple of pieces of bread. We each took a plate and settled at the kitchen table while we waited for Zack to show up. While she kept checking for him, I couldn’t help but hope he didn’t show up.
"I don’t know why he does this." She stared at her watch. "Why is he always late? Do you think he forgets me?"
I chewed on a mouthful of sandwich, and put my hand over her watch so she wouldn’t keep checking it. "I don’t think anyone could forget you."
Her gaze lifted to mine, her blue eyes wide, and she took to fiddling with her hair. "You always say the right things."
It wasn’t hard when the right things were the truth. If only I could tell her everything that was on my mind.
A horn blasted out the front, and my fingers tensed on her wrist for a moment before I let her go. What else could I do? A small part of me argued I could pull her into my arms and tell her he wasn’t what she needed, but she was already rushing for the door. The peanut butter tasted like paste, and I dumped the rest of my sandwich on the plate beside the pile of crusts she’d left. That was all I was as long as she had Zack. Nothing but the scraps she left behind.
Chapter Seven
"I told myself I was happy, and that it didn’t matter we were only friends. It was enough, but happiness is subjective; gone in a minute."
April 2005
I’d been out all morning, enjoying the peacefulness of wandering along the hiking trails. My thoughts had strayed where they would, and as usual, they revolved around a certain angel who danced on my heart.
The silence as I approached the house was eerie. Birdie was waiting at the front door. Her eyes were red and puffed up in her delicate face, her hair in disarray.
Dumping my bag inside the door, I touched her arm. I’d never seen her look so fragile. My normally boisterous sister shattered and threw herself against my chest. Sobs shook her, and I gathered her closer. "What’s going on?"
"He’s dead."
"Huh?" For a fleeting second I hoped she was talking about a TV show, or movie, but my sister had never been the type to cry over characters. No, it was someone real, someone I knew, and my stomach filled with ice. "Who’s dead?"
Mom slipped into the room. She swayed as she took halting steps toward us.
"Mom?" I asked, looking at her flushed face; her olive skin was pale. She hugged herself, her whole body trembling as she stared at me silently. Time passed slowly, though it was only a minute before she too flew into my arms. As much as I didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to admit I knew the answer; the sound of their crying was evidence of what I already knew.
"Your father... " It was all she could get out.
"What happened?"
"Stroke." Mom sniffled. "He was working on the shed. He fell. They said he had a stroke."
"Where is he?" It was too much to take in. I needed to see him for myself.
"I don’t know. They took him to the hospital." She let me go and gathered Birdie into her arms, her head falling onto mom’s shoulder.
"I have to go." I snatched my keys from the bowl on the hallway table.
I didn’t remember driving to the hospital, or the people I spoke to while I tried to find my father. It was all too surreal. They had transferred him to the morgue, and I found myself standing outside. The heat of the afternoon couldn’t shake the chill that had settled over me, numbing me through. My hand shook as I pressed it to the door but couldn’t quite make myself open it. Why couldn’t Dad have waited until I’d gotten home to fix the roof? If I’d been there when I said I would, then maybe he wouldn’t be hidden behind those steel doors.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I took a step back. And then another, until they were leading me away from where my father lay to the one place in the world I would be able to feel something other than pain.
I knocked on the door, and hoped Clo would answer. The air had been sucked from my world,
and gravity weighed on me, until I couldn’t stand upright. Each second pulled me closer to the edge.
"Hello, Orion. What are you doing here?" Mrs. Williams said when she opened the door. She looked concerned and I glanced at the car. Maybe it would be better if I just drove. It didn’t matter where I ended.
"I’m glad you’re here," she said pulling me inside. "Clo’s not doing well this afternoon. She’ll be glad to see you."
I took the steps to the second floor, three at a time, to find her sitting on her bed, eating peanut butter M&M’s from the bag. Tears slid down her cheeks. My angel looked broken too, and I couldn’t deal with her pain while my own simmered close to the surface. I lost it, mashing my palms into my face with a groan, and collapsed beside her on the bed. She held out her hand in front of my face, one little blue candy held between two slender fingers. Taking it from her, I rolled onto my back.
"What’s wrong?" she asked.
If anything could magnify my pain, it was the sadness on her face. Seeing her broke me open, and I couldn’t keep my emotions clamped down. I cried like a damn girl, and not silent tears, but the type that tore from deep inside, leaving me shaking. Flopping down beside me, she put her arms around me and held me close. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Her fingers pressed to my back and her hair against my cheek made me crave more. I needed her surrounding me, her halo keeping me safe.
Capturing her face with my hand, I swept her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes drew me in, impossible to resist, and I drew her down to press her lips to my own. The first sweet taste of her dragged me in, and I swept my tongue over her bottom lip. Fingers fluttering against my back, she opened up to our connection, and I dipped inside to taste the saltiness underneath the sweet. Urgency filled me, as we tangled with one another, making me take her mouth in a way I had never imagined a first kiss with her would be. I was too intense, too invested in my own needs to be gentle. Rolling her underneath me, I deepened the kiss, needing her to ease the aching hole that threatened to overwhelm me. Her hands came between us, and for one terrifying moment I thought she would push me away. Instead she threaded her fingers through my hair and moaned into my mouth. Scrambling to find the edge of her T-shirt, I hiked it up. Satiny skin heated under my palms as I smoothed them over the sides of her waist and up to the soft curves of her breasts. The warmth between us eased the chill inside me, and when my fingers grazed over her nipple she arched beneath me. Lost in her, I could only act on my need to be with her, and I parted her legs with my knee, settling between them. It had been so long since I’d been with anyone, had wanted to be with anyone, that all I could think about was being inside her. My cock ached, and I rocked against her. She wrapped her legs around me, her hips bucking against mine.
The rest of the world could go to hell as long as I had her. Her hands scraped down my back and under my shirt to press me closer; her fingernails leaving half-crescents in my skin. Tiny whimpers escaped between us as she rubbed against me, and I clambered to undo the buttons on her pants.
"Hey babe, your mom said you were up here. Can you open the door please? Can we talk?"
Shit! I jumped off her, the fantasy we were creating broken by the sound of Zack’s voice. She scrambled to sit up and moved away from me, her face flushed. Darting glances between her and the door, I tried to adjust my deflating erection, but the obvious bulge still showed. Clo ran shaking fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it. I wanted to capture her hands in mine and keep her the way she was. To me, she was perfect, especially mussed when I’d been the one to cause it. If she was with me, she’d always look that way.
"Go away," she yelled at the door, her bottom lip trembling.
"Please let me in." Zack pleaded, and I gazed at Clo trying to gauge the situation.
"Clo?" I reached for her, but she scooted further up the bed.
"I can’t do this right now." Folded into herself, she wrapped her arms around her knees.
"What happened?" I’d been an ass for not asking her before.
Through the door, he continued to plead for her to talk with him. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. "Orion, I have to talk to him. I have to let him in."
"Clo, please..." I trailed off. Nothing I could say would help right now. Everything was complicated, our timing so wrong. I needed her friendship more than anything now, and if she pushed me away I would have nothing. Sagging against the end of the bed, I tried to ignore my racing heart and the knot forming in my gut at the thought of this being my one and only chance to make her mine. I took a deep breath. No, our time would come. It had to. "Okay."
She called to Zack, and he opened the door. Darting glances between us, his brow puckered and his hands clenched at his sides. "Orion, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I... my father died." I told them, letting the words hit me as they entered the world, making them truth. Each word punched me in the gut, making me want to curl up in a ball. Instead, I hurried to the door, brushing past him.
Behind me, Clo called out, "Orion, wait."
Unable to face either of them, I rushed down the steps and out the door. Nausea filled me, and I tried to swallow it down past the lump in my throat. Even as my world fell apart, I wanted to know what had happened between Clo and Zack. A part of me hoped Zack hadn’t treated her as he had those girls over the summer, another part wished for it. Because if they were over, if they were done, with the way she’d reacted when I kissed her, then maybe there was a chance for us. Right now though, I had to go home. Mom and Birdie needed me to be the man in their lives. Only, I didn’t know how. That had been Dad’s place and I would never be able to fill it.
Chapter Eight
"I never found out why Zack and Clo broke up the first time. The days passed in a surreal blur. People came to the house to comfort Mom and Birdie, but I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to be reminded Dad was never coming home. We planned the funeral, and I took over whenever it became too much for Mom. Clo didn’t call, and I worried our friendship was over, and that I’d lost two of the most important people in my life, in one week. I didn’t see her until the funeral."
May 2005
I squeezed Birdie’s hands while she trembled, her jaw clenched in an effort to suppress quiet sobs. On the other side of me, Mom hugged herself, and I put my arm around her hunched shoulders. Underneath her carefully applied make-up, her face stayed pale, but she’d stopped crying days ago. Well, she’d stopped crying where we could see her, but I still heard her late at night when Birdie slept.
She was devastated by his loss, as I was, and Birdie more so. Birdie had always been a daddy’s girl. Inside the church, people milled together talking in respectful whispers. I knew most of them. People Dad had worked with, his friends, and family. Dad’s brother, Uncle Bruce, approached us and took Mom’s hands in his. "I’m sorry, Laura."
Mom sobbed and Uncle Bruce led her toward the front of the church where Dad was laid out. Halting in my tracks, I stared at the cherry wood casket. For days, I’d been living in between reality and the life I had known. I still expected Dad to walk into the house after work and Mom to have a frown on her face and her hands on her hips while she berated the old man for not looking after himself better, and for Dad to retort with the sarcasm that often fired up a fight between them. What I expected and the reality of this surreal world without him were two different things. When we put him into the ground later that day, I would be saying goodbye for the last time.
Birdie squeezed my arm, and I took slow, shuffling steps toward the dais, pulling her with me. I didn’t want to go up there, and pay my respects. If Dad could hear me, it wouldn’t matter where I was. Still, I had to go up there for Birdie. She’d struggled more than Mom and I over the past few days. Seeing her fall apart was almost harder than not seeing Dad, and if she needed each and every moment of closure then I would be there to get her through it.
We stood in front of the casket, and Birdie rested a hand on top of it, wh
ispering words I wasn’t supposed to listen to. Fighting to stay composed, I clenched my jaw, a tic starting under one eye, but I couldn’t keep it together. Tears slipped down my cheeks.
Clo stepped up beside me, took my hand, and squeezed it. Unable to look at her while I sobbed, I simply held on, the connection giving me the strength to pull myself back together. My angel leaned into me, propping me up, while she tried to keep her own eyes dry.
The mourners had begun to take their seats, and the three of us shuffled down into the crowd, finding a pew where we sat together. I was relieved to see Mom was still beside Uncle Bruce as Clo snuck under my arm, and I held her and Birdie against me during the funeral.
Afterward, I took my place beside the casket with Uncle Bruce and the others to carry dad out to the waiting hearse.
***
The priest said a few words to the crowd, and I watched my father be lowered into the ground by mechanical winch. This time when I approached the casket, it was with a fistful of dirt. It sifted through my fingers and onto the casket as I thought about the times we’d spent working in the shed together. "I’ll look after them," I whispered before I turned and went to stand beside Clo and Birdie.
Mom rested her head on Uncle Bruce’s shoulder, and he led her away as the crowd dispersed. Hunched over with my hands in my pockets on the way to the car, I concentrated on the burn behind my eyes, feeling the pain of it. I’d have given anything to wake up from this dream where I didn’t have my dad anymore.
Birdie left us to go to Mom, leaving Clo and I on our own. She took my hand and we walked the rest of the way to the car.
We drove home in silence. My mind circled the question of what had happened between her and Zack, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I pulled into the drive, the street already filled with cars. Inside the house, it would be worse. Everyone who had been at the funeral would be jammed inside. The buzz of chatter would be loud, and they would all want to tell me how sorry they were and how Dad had been a great man. Parking the car in the garage, I got out and popped the hood to delay the inevitable for a few minutes.
