Never Did Say

by C. M. Stunich

  “That's the one. That shit is wicked fucked, but I'll let you read it to me if it'll make you happy. Oh, and don't forget – you promised we'd read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Noah together. Now that book is literary genius.”

  “I heart the fuck out of you, Ty,” I tell him and he nods, like that's simple fact. And you know what? Maybe it is? Maybe my love for Ty is as much a reality, as much a part of the universe as the stars that now twinkle brightly in the sky outside our window?

  “I heart the fuck out of you, too, Never Fontaine Nicholas Regali Ross-McCabe.” I snort at the ridiculousness of my own name and look into his eyes, searching, wondering if he took our conversation at the hospital seriously. With us, it's always this push and pull, one of us holding the other up when we try to descend into darkness. I won't let what happened to me pull him under. Hades, you can go fuck yourself. Ty McCabe is mine. Not even the Lord of the Underworld could take him from me. “And I always will.”

  7

  When we get back to the cabin, Lacey and Trini are waiting for me on the porch. Or maybe they're just watching Zella spin in circles at the edge of the drive, hands on her back and face raised to the sky like she's praying for an intervention. Noah stands close but not too close, hands tucked into the pockets on his pajama pants. I don't see any sign of Tobias Underwood. Thank God. For hitting my sister, I hope he gets in an accident and loses his dick to shrapnel.

  “Never!” Lacey screams, racing across the gravel towards me. Ty has to step between us to keep her from throwing her arms around me. At this point, I'm still weak from the surgery and the blood loss, and the wounds on my belly feel like I've just been knifed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says as Ty smiles and lets her pass. I rub my hand up and down my right arm, up to my shoulder and down to my elbow. Apparently, the weird pain I felt there when I collapsed was from the internal bleeding, from it irritating the nerves in my arm and shoulder. According to Doctor Pradhan, that was my biggest warning sign, one I felt quite a while before I collapsed on that driveway. “I was so scared you were going to die,” Lacey blubbers as we navigate a very weak, very awkward hug. Doesn't matter though. I'm honestly just shocked that a stranger, someone who really has no reason to be here or to care about me, actually gives a shit about whether I live or die. Okay, well Lacey isn't exactly a stranger, but I guess she's my first real female friend in a long time.

  “Thank you, Lacey,” I say, smiling at Trini as she stays under the porch and tries not to intrude. “I'm glad you're still here and I'm sorry if I ruined your holiday.”

  “Ruined?” she says, cocking a blonde brow at me. She's in full Barbie form tonight – perfect pink sweater and white jeans, furry black boots, hair coiffed atop her delicate head. Even when we were roommates, it was hard to find Lacey not looking perfect. It's kind of a nice constant, a reminder that even though a lot of things have changed lately, my friend is still the same. “Never, don't be stupid,” she says, snorting. I roll my eyes as she takes my arm and tries to help me inside. Frankly, I kind of want to go butt into Zella and Noah's conversation, but I'm already tired, halfway asleep.

  “I'll keep Little Noah in my room tonight,” Beth says as I move inside to the glow of Christmas lights and the soft whisper of carols in the background. There's a black and white movie playing on the big screen, but somebody's muted in. “I don't want anything waking you up,” she says as I get ready to tackle the stairs. I want to argue with her, tell her that I'd like, no that I'd love to have my son in the room with me tonight. Then I look up at the stairs and a wave of dizziness washes over me. If just thinking about climbing them makes me tired, how can I take care of a baby tonight, too?

  I make the smart decision and acquiesce to Beth's demands, curling my hand around the newel post and seriously debating sleeping on the couch tonight.

  Ty's right there, of course, dark brows pinched in worry. I watch as he spins his lip ring around, sticks his tongue into the hole. It's one of his coping mechanisms, like running your fingers through your hair or something. I find it absolutely adorable. And the intensity in his eyes? God. It's like he's looking at me for the first time, taking me in, absorbing me. I want to fall into his eyes and drown in their dark depths. I can see him warring between two factions of himself, the part that wants to coddle me and take control, shield me from the world and from myself, and then the other part that knows I'm a whirlwind, a stubborn bitch who won't take no for an answer.

  “Babe, you want me to carry you up the stairs?” he asks, and I wave him off. I might be injured, but I'm still capable. Ty squeezes his hands into fists and then releases them, nodding briefly. That tender ache in his gaze burns against my skin, and I find myself looking away before I break down in tears again. He loves me beyond all rational belief. That much is obvious, so there's no need to cry. Yes, he almost lost me, but I survived. I fucking survived. I am a goddamn survivor.

  I reach for the railing and pause as someone appears out of the shadows near the back door. My heart picks up speed and I feel suddenly faint.

  Ty and Beth follow my gaze and both freeze, like deer caught in the headlights.

  “Hello, Never.”

  Standing there in an orange sarong and a rusty red tank top is my mother.

  8

  “The fuck is she doing here?” Ty growls after he and Beth get me tucked into bed. It's so weird for me to be taken care of like this that I find I don't know what to do with myself. My arms and legs feel twitchy, and I want nothing more than to just get up and march down the stairs, ask the bitch myself.

  “I … I have no idea,” Beth says softly, tugging at her blue flannel sleeping shirt. I know she feels self-conscious when my mom's around sometimes, like she has to look better than her, more professional, put together. That I can totally understand. I think both Beth and me have outgrown the need to have our mother love us – or even really give two fucks that we're alive. Or at least I keep telling myself that; I think I almost believe it. “She said she was at a folk festival.” My sister wrinkles up her nose.

  “But she's also a lying cunt,” I add, sitting up and trying to adjust myself. Ty is there in an instant, helping me, supporting me. And he looks damn good doing it. I'm kind of glad that I'm the girl, that I get to have the babies and he has to stand by. It means he can keep that perfect body of his, that sultry, sexy bad boy look that drove us together in the first place. “And a mooch. And a bitch. Just an all around terrible person.”

  I look up at Ty, at the hard lines of his jaw, the clenched muscles in his throat as he struggles not to march down those stairs and knock my mother out. He would, too. For me, he'd do anything.

  “I'll go talk to her,” Beth says, and I immediately feel sorry for her. Having our mother around, in any sort of capacity, is a drain on my sister. Angelica never makes things better, only worse. She arouses those deeply buried hopes in my sisters, the hopes I used to have, that our mom will somehow change overnight, pay attention to them. Since she never does, being around like this is just cruel. “You two rest.” Beth pauses to point a finger at Ty and he makes this cute little you talkin' to me face that makes my heart flip-flop in my chest. “Ty, I mean you, too. Have you slept at all the last few days?”

  I look at Ty, but he quickly glances away, giving my sister a weak thumbs-up.

  “Will do, Mother Dearest,” he says before she shakes her head at him and leaves the room. The door closes softly behind her and I'm left to stare at a deranged Santa Claus poster. Noah's mother has some serious decorating issues.

  “Ty,” I begin as he turns away from me and strips off his shirt. Dear God. I feel my voice catch as I stare at the strong hard muscles in his back, the bird tattoos that have so much meaning embedded in each drop of ink that I feel like crying again.

  So I only got things with wings. Because I wanted to be free. Every time I got a new tattoo, I promised myself that this was the day I changed everything. This was the day I grew my own wings and flew away.

  “Ty.
” I say his name more forcefully this time, just a split second before he drops his jeans to the floor. I have to look away then. I might be in recovery, but I'm still a sex addict. Still a woman in love.

  “What can I do for you, love of my love, heart of my heart?” he asks, flicking off the lights and plunging us both into peaceful darkness. The window is cracked and the soft whisper of cool air teases the cozy warmth of the bedroom, helping to mask some of the shouting I can already hear erupting from downstairs. My mother sure likes to make her presence known.

  Ty moves towards me swathed in darkness, stray shafts of moonlight highlighting the piercings on his face. When he gets close enough, I can see everything. His mouth shifts into a grin, teeth white in the blue-navy night. Ty crawls in beside me, buck naked, and doesn't act at all ashamed for doing it.

  “They say skin to skin contact is helpful in the healing process,” he whispers in my ear, managing to find a spot next to me where he can hold me without hurting me. I slide my hand down his thigh and go for the gold, only to have him grab my wrist and press my knuckles against his bare chest.

  “Are you really turning down a hand job?” I ask.

  “Are you really offering me one right now?” I look at him, try to catch sight of those brown eyes in the dark. “Never, you don't have to worry. No matter what happens, I'll be here. Right here by your fucking side. And I sure as shit ain't taking any favors from you when you're like this. I just want you to rest up and get better, baby. Straight up.” I smile but inside, I'm still a little scared. Just a little. But that's normal, right?

  “You're such a fucking stud,” I say with a sniffle and we both laugh. “Are you sure you won't be grossed out by me? By a baby body and a lot of stretch marks?” I touch my fingers to my belly again and wait in silence for his answer.

  “Nev, I've had more sex in the last decade than most people have in their entire lives. I might've been a whore, and an addict, but sex isn't what motivates me. Listen to me, love of my life, the only thing that motivates me is right fucking here.” Ty presses his palm to my chest and I feel my heartbeat pick up, slamming against my rib cage, so loud I'm sure even Beth and my mom can hear it downstairs. Before I can question him any further, ask him if he really stayed awake for the last three days, I hear the soft whisper of his breath against my ear, and I have my answer.

  9

  I manage to make it two full days without seeing my mom. One might think she'd be interested in visiting her daughter, a daughter she drove away for five years, a daughter who recently lost her baby. But no. No. My mother uses Noah's cabin as a hotel, so she can go to and from her folk festival without having to pay for a room. Apparently, this stupid event of hers is being held at a farm not too far from us. Honestly, I doubt that 'festival' is even an appropriate word for the event. My mom spends a lot of time hanging out and fucking random people, smoking pot, dancing. For all I know, it might just be a group of middle-aged dudes in a trailer, parked on a shady corner of some fallow corn field.

  Well, two days in, and I finally get up enough strength to go downstairs and sit in the living room. Ty, the devilish little sweet that he is, props my feet up in his lap and actually gives me a foot massage – a really, really good one.

  “You're a god,” I whisper and Ty flashes me a naughty grin.

  “Remember that when we're allowed to have sex again.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, a smile curling my lips. It's hard to stay mad when the air smells like pine, when your little sisters are gathered around the Christmas tree, waiting to give you a second chance at the holiday you might've missed forever. Of course, that's before I get a whiff of Beth's cooking and my stomach turns over twice before I manage to get ahold of myself.

  “Look at you.” My mother's voice is unmistakable as she saunters into the room in a tinkling of bells. I bet she thinks she looks real pretty in her big gypsy skirt and her hip scarf. The fresh¸ sharp scent of weed follows her in, making me twice as queasy as I was before. “You must feel like a queen.”

  Ty's hands go still, too still, and I worry that this situation is going to escalate out of control before I can stop it. I give him a look which he returns, and try to tell him with my eyes that she isn't worth it. I mean, we both know that, but if my mom is good at anything, it's inciting feelings of frustration in those around her.

  “Nice to see you, too, Angelica,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. My little siblings, especially Darla, watch the interaction between us carefully. My heart already aches for her, knowing that one day, she'll realize what I do: Angelica doesn't care about anyone but herself. It takes me a moment to collect myself, to bite back the angry words I want to say. How can you be so selfish? How can you care so little?

  “So, can I hold my grandson now or what?” My mom pauses in the center of the room, her head silhouetted in the middle of the oversized TV screen, like some sort of inside joke between me and the universe. See, look at that. In this movie, the mom actually gives a rat's ass about her children. How weird is that?

  “That depends on your answer,” I whisper, my voice lower and harsher than I intend. I cut her off. I did. She's a cancer. Our relationship, it can't be saved. I look at Ty again, at the ruby rings on his fingers, the ones that match the piercings in his face. I love how he fucking puts himself together like that. I won't tell him this, but he kind of looks like a pirate right now and I love it. “You told Beth I needed to learn a lesson. What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Language,” Beth chirps, her motherly attitude only slightly subdued by Angelica's presence.

  “I didn't say you needed to learn one. I said you just might. And I did say I was sorry. Miscarriages aren't exactly fun.” I purse my lips so tight, I feel like my mouth just might fall off my face. I almost hope it does, that blood sprays everywhere, right into Angelica's eyes. And then I hope it blinds her.

  “What are you even doing here?” I whisper, not even bothering to correct her, to tell her that I almost died, or that I'm still pregnant. Hell, it's not like she cares either way. If I had bled out, left this world for the next, would she have even cried? Or maybe she'd have been too busy at some 'folk festival' to come to my funeral. “You couldn't be bothered to make it to the hospital.”

  “Oh come off it, Never,” she says, leaning down in a swirl of skirts and the lingering scent of nag champa. The smell of her, of her weed and her cigarettes and her incense, it used to comfort me. Now all it does is make my stomach turn. “The world doesn't revolve around you and your problems.”

  “How much jail time would I get if I punched this bitch out?” Ty asks, almost conversationally. Angelica scowls at him, brushing some copper curls behind her ear as she stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. Normally, when the shit gets going, so does Angelica. If she's still here then it means she must have nowhere else to go. And no money. No worries, though. As soon as she steals enough from my sisters or begs some off Beth, she'll leave. “And keep your hands off our son, lady. You got that?”

  “Based on what I've heard about you, are you sure you have the right to be so choosy?”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ty asks quietly, putting my feet aside and standing up. His fists are clenched by his sides and his arm muscles are tense beneath the layer of brightly colored tattoos that sweep up to his shoulders.

  Movement in the corner of the room catches my eye, and I look to find Jade squeezing into the rec room in the back like she's fleeing the scene of a crime. And then I remember that Ty told Jade all sorts of things about himself in his attempt to help her, things she probably relayed right back to my mother.

  Things could get ugly in here real quick. I mean, I don't really think Ty would ever hit my mother or anything, but I also don't want things said that can't be unsaid. Insults and slights are the food of dark demons, and Ty and I are just starting to starve ours out of existence.

  “It means a dirty little prostitute like yourself doesn't really have room to talk.”
r />   Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  But of course my mother isn't done spreading evil in her wake, infecting the earth like fallout from a nuclear bomb.

  “How much is it anyway if I want some?” When she literally reaches out towards Ty's crotch like she's going to grab him right in front of my little sisters, I almost completely lose it. Okay, so I actually really lose it. I don't see the world, blinded for a few seconds there by red hot color that swirls in my eyes like a swarm of angry bees. Before I even realize it, I'm up and off the couch, shoving my mother back before Ty can grab a hold of me.

  “I just lost my baby,” I scream at her, not caring that my family's watching anymore. “I almost fucking died! And all you can think to do is come here and try to demean the one person in this world that makes me feel like I'm lucky to be alive? You go to hell!” I screech, fighting against Ty's gentle hold on me, keeping me back from doing what I really want to do. I want to hit my mom so hard that her face hurts just a fraction of how bad my heart does. “Get out of here and never come back! I don't ever want to see you again.”

  I break down in sobs then, not because I'm weak, but because I'm strong. I'm stronger than this, better than this. Tears are not a sign of weakness, just a reminder that life happens. There's nothing wrong with feeling the pain as it hits you, letting it wash over and through you. I should know; I spent years fighting it off in all the wrong ways. If I'd just let it come, if I'd only let it come.

  “You are so overdramatic, Never,” my mom huffs, her long purple pendant earrings swaying as she turns away. I collapse into Ty and turn my face to his chest, breathing in his scent to block out hers. He smells like … like butterflies and love and cloves and laundry detergent. His hand, when it touches the back of my head, is unbelievably tender.

  “You have about five minutes to grab your stuff and go,” Ty whispers over the top of my head. I can't see his face, but I bet I know what it looks like. Ty is strong and beautiful and so imperfect that he's perfect.