The Other One

by Jiffy Kate

  Her pleas for release let me know she’s close. I want this for her. I want to make her feel good. Reaching between us, I apply pressure on her clit, telling her that I want her to come for me. My name falls from her lips as she falls over the edge. Her walls tighten, and it pulls me over with her—free falling and not caring where I land, as long as I’m with her.

  Lying spent next to Loren, our legs and arms tangled together; I look over to the clock and see that it’s after midnight.

  “Happy New Year, beautiful.”

  “Happy New Year, my love.”

  When I wake up during the middle of the night, the white lights are still glowing around the room, and Loren has her head on my chest.

  For the first time in a long time, I allow myself to think of the future, and I don’t have any regrets. I don’t wish away the past. As painful as it is to admit, I see now that the past is what led me to her. I want to kiss her and hold her for the rest of my life. We’re not promised tomorrow, so I’m going to love her every day like it might be our last.

  I think back to Loren’s question from earlier, about where I see myself in five years, and my mind begins to wander. I have so much more I could say to her. Like, I hope that in five years Loren’s now flat stomach will be round, and she’ll be glowing, or maybe there will be a baby asleep somewhere with her brown hair and my green eyes.

  Hopefully, we’ll have a house and lives of our own. But no matter what, I hope we spend every New Year’s Eve just like this.

  Tripp

  “TRIPP,” MY MOM sighs, cupping my cheek, “you have no idea how happy and proud I am of you.”

  “Mom.” I shake my head and pull away, trying to hide my embarrassment and accompanying smile. She’s always told me she’s proud of me, and I know when I succeed, she feels like she’s succeeded as well. She’s always told me so. But now, it’s hard to see what she’s so proud of. I got in a car. What’s the big deal? It’s not as tangible as throwing a touchdown pass.

  “You listen here.” She places her soft hand on my cheek and forces me to look back at her. “I’m proud.” She points to herself, emphasizing her words. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Her hand grips my jaw a little tighter, and a smile breaks across her face before she plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Damn, I made some good-looking kids.”

  “Damn straight,” Ben chimes in, swatting my sister’s ass with a dishtowel. “You’ve got the goods, Mama A.”

  “At least someone appreciates me,” she teases. The truth is we appreciate her more than she’ll ever know. We’re the pieces; she’s the glue. I’ve never met a stronger woman in my entire life. Loren and Liza come in close seconds, but my mom’s amazing.

  “I love you, Mom,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head as I scoot past her to put some bread in the oven.

  “Tripp, Loren’s coming for supper, right?” my sister asks as she stirs a pot full of sauce. I don’t know why she’s asking. It’s not like we’re not going to have enough food to feed a small army.

  “Yeah, she’ll be here as soon as her last class is out.”

  “Okay, good. We’ll wait on her, then. The pasta is ready, and the sauce is almost there. Jack! Emmie!” she yells over her shoulder at the whooping hyenas in the next room. “Go wash up! We’re eating as soon as Loren gets here!”

  “Loren!” Emmie’s love affair with my girlfriend has only grown stronger over the last couple of months. She thinks Loren hung the moon.

  “Loren!” Ben mocks his mini-me, throwing his hands in the air.

  Actually, everyone thinks Loren hung the moon. Me included.

  Jack runs into the kitchen, practically flying across the wood floor, his socks acting as skates.

  “Hey, Super Jack!” My mom slows his flight, keeping him upright.

  “Is Loren here?” he asks, his blue eyes big as saucers.

  “Not yet, buddy,” I tell him, ruffling his hair.

  We all go about setting the table and carrying food into the dining room. Jack and Emmie argue over who’s going to sit in the chair beside Loren. My mom finally settles the argument by reminding Emmie she got to sit by Loren earlier in the week when she was here for supper.

  “She’s the best thing that’s happened to this family in a long time,” my mom says, not looking up from where she’s placing the silverware at each setting.

  I look up and see Ben with a big cheesy grin on his face. “She’s pretty awesome.”

  The fact that my family has embraced Loren so fully makes my heart swell. She’s mine. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself. It’s hard to believe she’s real, and she’s with me . . . and she loves me.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” I admit. “I couldn’t have done any of the stuff I’ve been able to do without her.”

  “Hey,” my mom says, getting my attention from across the table. “Loren might be the catalyst, but you’ve done the work. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “That’s what Loren says.”

  “And that’s one of the reasons I love that girl so much.” My mom smiles and continues setting the table.

  “I’m proud of you too, bro,” Ben says quietly, slapping my shoulder.

  Just before things can get too sappy, the doorbell rings, saving me. Loren.

  “Loren!” Emmie and Jack yell, running for the door.

  We’ve all told her she doesn’t have to knock or ring the doorbell, but she still does.

  I hear the door open, and my girl’s sweet voice carries through the foyer. “Oh, I must have the wrong address. I’m looking for Jack and Emmie Walker.”

  “That’s us!” they say in unison.

  “No. The Jack and Emmie I know are about this high,” she says, pausing. “And one’s a superhero: Super Jack. And the other is a princess who loves, loves the color green. Have you seen them?”

  “That’s us!” Their screams are louder, and they start talking over each other, both explaining how Loren knows who they are. “You . . . you said,” Emmie yells, finally winning the battle for who gets to talk first. “You said a princess doesn’t have to have a tiara to be a princess!”

  “Oh, that’s right! I did say that, didn’t I?” Loren says, finally giving in and laughing a little.

  “Just like you, Loren! You’re a princess, even if you don’t wear a tiara!”

  “Aww! Emmie, I love you!”

  I hear my niece squeal as I peek around the corner and see Loren swinging her around in a big hug.

  “What about me?” Jack asks, tugging on Loren’s jacket.

  “Of course, I love you too, Super Jack!”

  Standing in the hallway watching the three of them makes a weird feeling stir in the pit of my stomach. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt it, In fact, every time I watch Loren with Jack and Emmie, it hits me. I start letting myself wonder what it would be like to have a life with Loren, one that includes marriage and children. I want that.

  “Hey,” she says when she notices me watching. Her smile is so wide it lights up her whole face. “Hey.” I take the few steps to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her close to me.

  “Are you guys gonna kiss?” Jack asks, disgusted.

  “Yep.”

  “Cooties!” he yells, covering his eyes.

  “You better run if you don’t want the cooties to jump off on you,” I tell him, giving him fair warning.

  We laugh as they both scurry out of the room, screaming for their lives.

  “I missed you,” I tell her when we’re finally alone.

  “Right back atcha.”

  Her lips meet mine, and I feel complete. As I thread my fingers through the soft tendrils of hair that fall down her back, Loren lets out a quiet moan in my mouth, making me want to deepen the kiss and take things further, but I know I’d only be starting something I can’t finish.

  “Later,” I whisper, to which she responds by pressing herself into me, her hands gripping the back of my neck.
/>   When my sister calls her name, Loren laughs and places a soft kiss on my jaw. “Later,” she promises.

  We all eventually take our seats, Jack beaming with pride as he sits in the seat on the other side of Loren. Somehow, when she started coming over and eating with us on a regular basis, I ended up in dad’s old seat. No one has sat here for years. It’s kind of weird but also a concrete example of how life goes on.

  I look to my left and see Loren helping Jack put pasta on his plate. My mom is assisting Emmie with buttering a roll. Liza is telling Ben that he needs to eat some salad, like he’s a little kid. I smirk across the table at him, which earns me a piece of bread thrown toward my head. Mom reprimands us both, and I smile, feeling content.

  Loren may not be the sole reason life feels so good right now, but she’s definitely part of it. I know it’s hard to know what life would be like right now if I hadn’t started working at The Crescent Moon. Who knows? Some of this happiness might have found us on its own. But like Loren was saying a couple of weeks ago, the way we met and the fact we’re so perfect for each other makes me believe in fate. I have to believe that we’d have met one way or another, that our paths were destined to cross. She needed me, and I needed her.

  Right now, watching her smile and interact with my family, there’s a flutter of hope in my chest, hope that I’ve brought as much happiness and goodness into her life as she’s brought into mine.

  My mom catches my eye and winks at me, as if she’s inside my brain and knows what I’m thinking. I return it with a smile, before digging into the delicious food in front of me.

  “How are your classes, Loren?” Liza asks, causing everyone to look over at Loren.

  She blows out a deep breath and wrinkles her nose, which makes me worry that something is wrong. I expected her to say they were going great. That’s what she usually tells me.

  “Classes are okay right now, but I think I’m going to try to find a part-time job again. I really need the extra money to get me through the semester.”

  “Have any idea where you’d want to work?” Ben asks.

  “Well, I used to work at the bursar’s office, but I was thinking about applying at this bookstore near campus. The lady who runs it is nice, and I like going in there, so I figured it wouldn’t be a bad place to work.”

  I’m trying to keep an open mind as I listen to Loren talk, but I remember what she told me about how things were before. She went to school all day, worked all night, and barely had time to do her class work. I worry for her . . . and for us. If she’s working and I’m working, what if we don’t have time for each other?

  I try to keep a neutral expression on my face, so I don’t let on to what I’m thinking inside. I’m not sure if it works, but at least no one says anything. I don’t want to have a conversation about Loren working or not working in front of everyone.

  Anxiety starts to build inside me because I know if I voice my concerns, she may take it as me trying to tell her what to do. Loren and I haven’t ever really had an argument, not since we hashed everything out about the accident.

  I know I don’t have any right to tell her how she needs to live her life, but I feel like I should have an opinion when it comes to us. I war with myself as we all pitch in to clean up after supper. Ben asks me if I’m okay, and I tell him I have a headache. It was a puss way out, but I took it.

  When Loren and I say goodnight and leave out the back door, I can tell she’s hesitating on whether to come up to my apartment or not. She keeps looking over at her car in the driveway and chewing on her lip.

  “Do you have to leave right now?” I ask, hoping I’m reading her wrong.

  Her toes kick at the sidewalk, and she drops her head down to her chest. “I really have a lot of homework to do, and Grace picked up a few applications for me today. I’d like to be able to take them back tomorrow.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about needing a job?”

  She shrugs her shoulders, looking off into the distance. “I didn’t want to worry you with mundane things like me needing a part-time job.”

  “Nothing about you is mundane.” I reach my hand up and brush the hair away from her cheek, tilting her face back toward me so I can see her pretty brown eyes. “I want to know if you get a paper cut, or when someone serves you bad coffee . . . Everything is important to me.”

  I notice her swallow hard, and her hands are fidgeting. I can tell something is bothering her, and I wish she would just tell me what it is before I go crazy. “Loren?”

  “I . . . I just didn’t want you worrying or feeling like I was putting my problems off on you.”

  “Loren,” I warn, hoping I don’t have to repeat myself. “If you worry, I worry. That’s just how it is. We’re a package deal.”

  She stiffens a little at those words, but I chalk it up to her trying to put on a brave face for me, so I continue.

  “If money is an issue, why don’t you just move in with me?” I ask her with a light laugh, trying to lighten the mood. I know it sounds crazy, and it might not work, even if she was to consider it, but I want her to know she has options. Besides, the idea of Loren in my bed every night sounds fantastic.

  I stroke her cheek when a small tear leaks out of the corner of her eye.

  “Loren?”

  Her gaze is far off, like she’s not even standing here in front of me. Her breaths come in short, fast bursts. The color in her face pales, and I know what’s happening.

  “Loren, baby,” I say, trying to soothe her, bringing her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her and trying to shield her—from the world, from her past, from whatever memory is haunting her at the moment. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

  Her hands grip the sides of my jacket, as if she’s hanging on for dear life. She buries her face into my chest, and I worry she’s having some sort of breakdown.

  I hate seeing her cry; it physically hurts me.

  We stand there for a while, her holding on to me and me holding her together.

  Soon, her breathing slows, her grip on me loosens, and her body slowly melts into mine.

  I rub her back, whispering that it’s okay . . . even though I’m not sure it is. It’s my turn to be strong enough for both of us.

  “What happened?” I ask when I think she’s able to tell me.

  “I . . . I don’t know. One second, it was you, and we were here having this conversation, and the next minute, it wasn’t . . . and I wasn’t here . . . And you weren’t you . . .”

  Her voice breaks, and I squeeze her a little tighter. I think I know where this is going, but I want her to have a chance to get it all out. “Where were you, Loren? Who was I?”

  “You were him . . . PJ. And we were at his house, and he was telling me that I should move in with him. It all felt so real. It was scary. I’m . . . I’m sorry.” Her sobs break through at that point, and I let her cry it out.

  “You’re here with me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I wish I could believe that,” she cries. “I wish I could tell my mind what my heart knows.”

  “Maybe it would help to say it out loud. Give your fears a voice, and then face them head-on. I’m gonna help you.”

  She leans her forehead against my chest for a couple of minutes before taking a staggering breath. “I—I love you, Tripp. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before, but I’m still afraid of putting all of my trust in you. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I guess it’s . . . fate or life or whatever I don’t trust because I know this can end at any second. I was devastated when PJ died, but if I lost you in any way, I don’t think I’d survive it. I wouldn’t want to.”

  I sigh heavily, stroking her hair. “We can’t worry about things that are out of our control. We can only live the best way we know how. For me, that means spending as much time as I can with you and my family. Nothing else matters. I want you to know, though, if something happens to me . . . like PJ . . . I died the happiest man in the world.” I can feel t
he sobs wracking her body, so I hold her tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. You have to believe in that. I’m not leaving unless you ask me to leave. It’s my hope, one day, to be old and gray with you, sitting on our front porch, watching great-grandchildren run around in our front yard. We’re forever.”

  She lets out a small laugh, some of the seriousness finally lifting. When she looks back up at me, her eyes are glistening, but the tears have stopped. Her fingers brush the hair away from my forehead, and she gently caresses my scar. I used to feel self-conscious when she’d touch me there, but now I don’t mind. I actually like it.

  “Kiss me,” she demands, and I do. When I think we’ve kissed long enough, I kiss her a little longer, promising to do it over and over again—every chance I get.

  One thing Loren and I will never do is take what we have for granted. We have PJ to thank for that. His departure from this earth gave each of us a unique perspective, as well as a new beginning.

  We can do this.

  Tripp

  MARDI GRAS SEASON. It’s my favorite time of year. I mean, the more traditional holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas are great, of course, but you just can’t beat the first two months of the year here in New Orleans. Everyone is filled with even more joie de vivre than usual, and the traditional Mardi Gras colors of purple, green, and gold cover just about anything that’s standing.

  My personal favorite is seeing the Mardi Gras trees. Once the parades start, you can see them covered with beads that were thrown, but not caught, by spectators. The beads literally drip off the trees. It’s so unusual and beautiful and makes the city even more festive. Unfortunately, the parades haven’t started yet, but my second favorite part of Mardi Gras has—King Cakes.

  Who makes the best King Cakes in New Orleans is a popular topic for debate around here, and it all depends on your preferences. If you want a fancy King Cake, go to Sucre’s. You like your cakes more traditional? Go to Gambino’s. But in my opinion, the best bakery is Randazzo’s. Their pecan praline King Cake is heaven on your tongue, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. During Mardi Gras season, you can often find lines of customers out the door of their store and around the corner. In fact, that’s where Loren and I are right now.