Pitchfork in the Road

by M. J. Schiller

  “See. I told you,” I said triumphantly.

  “Shut up.” Nick leaned forward. “That’s the right address.”

  Five minutes later we were entering my condo. I threw my keys in the chair and dove face-first into the couch cushions. “Oh, my feet.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to stand all day tomorrow and teach?”

  “I’ll be fine by then.”

  “Do you want a foot rub?”

  I flipped over with more energy than I thought I possessed. “They’re horribly dirty.”

  He smiled, waltzed over, and stood in front of the end of the couch. He looked at me, and I slowly raised my feet so he could sit. I dropped them in his lap.

  “Let me know if this hurts.”

  His fingers and the palms of his hands did something magical that not only affected my feet, it spread throughout my body.

  I moaned. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  The next minutes were laced with the repetition of that sentiment, and more moaning. “You can stop, Nick.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. I’m good.” More than good. “Could you go get the Jameson’s?”

  “Are you sure? There’s work tomorrow, you know? And it’s pretty late….”

  I sat and shoved his arm. “Yeah, Mom. And quit asking me that. Do I look like a person who blabbers about things they’re unsure of? Get the Jameson’s, dammit.” I laughed.

  He got up and moved in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Just one more.”

  He stared at me through the opening over the sink.

  “Last cabinet on your left, should be on the top shelf.”

  He shuffled over, and a few seconds later, the bottle hit the counter with a sharp rap. “Got it.” Water ran in the sink. I turned to see what he was doing. He poured dish soap on his hands.

  “I told you they were dirty.” I watched him. “There’s hand soap, you know?”

  He glanced down. “Oh. Didn’t see it.” He dried his hands, found glasses, poured, and came through the kitchen doorway. “I think my liver has aged at an unnatural rate since we ran into each other.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Just one more for me, too. I’ve got to walk all the way back to The Snug.”

  “What? You’re not walking back are—”

  He laughed. “No. I’ll call an Uber.” He handed me my drink and sat next to me, stretching one arm behind me. With the other hand he raised his glass. “Over the lips and past the gums. Look out stomach, here it comes.”

  “Well, not exactly what Killian would be proud of, but it works.” We clinked our glasses together and drank. He smacked his lips.

  “I think I’m getting used to this stuff.”

  “See. I told you. It grows on you.”

  “You know, drinking brings a whole other dimension to our friendship.”

  “A dimension I think we need to explore further.”

  “But not tonight.” He took our glasses and set them on the end table. “Speaking of Killian, it’s sad about Jo, isn’t it?” Jo was Killian’s wife.

  My heart dropped. “What is?”

  He swiveled his head. “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  He sat forward, and the uneasiness gnawed harder at my gut. “She’s—” he got choked up and needed to start again. “Jo’s got cancer, Zo.”

  “What?” My ribcage shrank, smashing my lungs. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I blinked away tears. “I can’t believe no one told me anything.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. I’m glad you told me.” We sat in a numbed silence. I glanced at him. “Is it bad?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think they even know yet. They just found out.”

  I grasped at a straw. “Maybe it’s not that bad, then.”

  “Let’s hope not.” He turned to face me more, curling a knee up on the cushions. He rubbed the top of the couch, mouth open, brow furrowed. I could tell he approached his subject with caution. “You should come home more often, Zo.”

  “I…. I don’t want to run into him.” There. I said it.

  “But how will you see your folks?”

  I shrugged, staring down at his leg to avoid his penetrating gaze. “They come here.”

  “But I’m guessing not as often as you’d like.”

  I lifted a shoulder and dropped it. He rubbed my other shoulder.

  “You know. Zack—” he said the name slowly, as if it might shatter me. And it had every bit of potential to do that. “—he’s got a place now. His mom sold the house.”

  “I know.” I sighed. When I first found out, I cried. It was an end to an era. Or perhaps the era was long gone. Twisting, I faced him more squarely, drawing my legs up, and curling them to one side, stretching the dress’s limits. “I don’t want to be where he is, even in my memories. Does that make sense?” I peered at him earnestly, willing him to understand what I didn’t understand myself.

  “Yeah. It makes sense.” He reached over and brushed a strand of hair off my face. “Man. He really tore you up inside, didn’t he?” His voice was choked.

  Part of me wanted to defend Zack. But what can you say about a guy who ghosted you, cut himself out of your life and didn’t look back? Part of me was glad to talk to someone who knew the whole picture, who understood. And yet another part of me was furious at herself for still holding on to the pain, so many years later. People got dumped all the time. What made me so special? But…Zack was so much a part of me. He was in my blood, my DNA. I believed we had a future together. Imagined it until it was real. How did I reconcile that with my life without him?

  Zack and Zoe, womb to tomb.

  But that didn’t mean I needed to be in a tomb just yet. Or maybe Zack buried the casket of our relationship long ago; we’d come to our tomb and he’d moved beyond it, while I was stuck. My lips trembled, and I tried to look down to hide it, but Nick put both hands on the sides of my face and held me there.

  “You don’t have to hide the hurt from me, Zo.”

  The old Nick would have ripped me apart for crying. Harassed me to no end. The new Nick…I didn’t really know who he was, fully, but I liked him.

  “Zoe. I probably shouldn’t say this, but…. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. When I saw you in the park….” His eyes widened and he lifted a hand. “I was just—blown away. And now….”

  His gaze shifted from one eye to the other and back as he slowly leaned forward. He was going to kiss me. Not again. I would have to hurt and humiliate him a second time and I’d lose this friendship that awoke part of me that was buried for a while.

  But…my hand never came up to stop him. And instead of pulling away, I leaned in. I suddenly imagined myself kissing up and down his strong jawline. I thought about disappearing in him altogether. Hell, I thought about that peek of firm tush I got that morning in my bed.

  His lips landed on mine softly, then he drew back, hesitating. Our mouths connected again, tentatively. His kiss tugged at me and he moved one hand to the back of my neck. We broke apart and stared at each other. Then we moved together as one, the kisses quicker. He slid his hand up, lifting my hair and tilting my head a little for a better angle, his tongue coaxing my mouth to open wider.

  Oh. My. God.

  He felt so good. I dove in, closing my eyes as he glided his hands under my ass and lifted me into his lap. But even that wasn’t close enough. I broke our lip lock and a single word issued from my lips. “Bedroom.”

  His desperate attempt to get to his feet with me still in his lap was comical. My weight pinned him to the couch. Maybe because I kept pressing into him. I laughed against his lips, and he laughed, too, then took the opportunity to dip his head down and hit this sweet spot on my neck.

  “Oh, hey. Mmm. That’s amazing.”

  My voice came out with a throaty purr. I didn’t even know I could talk like that. I drew my feet up, stood, and pushed into the cushions so I cou
ld bounce a few times as he got up. He turned to me and I jumped into him, straddling my legs around his waist. As if anticipating my move, his hands came up to cup my ass and support me.

  “Mmm.”

  He liked that. His shins thudded as they hit the coffee table, the couch, the end table, but I knew we were making progress. I tipped my chin up and he rolled his tongue along my neck to my shoulder, sinking his teeth in.

  Zack and I never…went all the way. But, now—I wanted it. Wanted to share myself with Nick in that way. That constant ache inside me had begun to throb since he showed up, and now it drove me to fill that cavernous space beneath my ribs. More quickly than I would have thought possible, we were in the bedroom. He put a knee up on the mattress and laid me back, rising over me. I pushed on the lightweight sweater he wore, and he whipped it, and the shirt under it, off. I reached up for those bare, broad shoulders and dragged him back over me. With his carrying me, and the way he laid me on the bed, and my scooching up on the mattress more, my dress hem bunched around my waist. We broke apart and I shimmied out of it, getting it stuck on my wrists, but Nick helped. He laid on his side and ran his eyes over me and gave me this unbelievable smile. The heat from it radiated through my chest, spreading warmth.

  He brought his mouth to my stomach, and I buried my hands in his hair, raking his scalp with my fingernails. The juxtaposition of his silky strands between my fingers and the strength with which I clutched at him, added to all of the sensations burning through me where his mouth met my flesh. I opened my eyes to watch him as he went lower, his mouth near the little ring piercing by my bellybutton. Another shimmery wave of yearning coursed through me making me moan and arch my back, my eyes squeezed shut against the exquisite pain and urgency he created.

  Then with a flash, images flooded my mind, playing against the backdrop of my eyelids. Zack and I on the couch when I was supposed to be babysitting, our first kiss, the night that…everything happened—Dani’s accident, my attack—Zack and I in his bed, “doing homework,” against his closet doors, on his desk…his mother was far too trusting. My lips automatically formed his name, though not a sound came out. My eyes popped open, my heart beating unbearably fast. In the reflection of the brass on the ceiling fan I saw Nick’s head on my stomach. Not Zack’s. For a second, confusion swamped me. My fingers dug into his shoulders desperately.

  “Stop.”

  He lifted a little. “What?” His eyes were still glazed over with desire.

  “Stop, Nick. Stop!”

  I brought my feet up on the mattress and tried to push away and out from under him. That got his attention.

  “Zoe, what’s wrong?”

  “We can’t—” I was confused, emotions vying inside me to come out on top. “This doesn’t…feel right.”

  “I’m doing something wrong?” he said hurriedly. “I can try something different. What—”

  I managed to gain a few inches. “N-n-no. You’re not doing anything wrong.” I glanced around. I couldn’t look at him. “Yep. You’re doing everything right all right.” Damn. “Too right.”

  He stared at me. “Uhh…what?” His face slowly fell. “Oh, no. Not now.”

  “Nick,” I warned.

  He crawled up to bring us even. “Zoe.” He put his hands on either side of my face again. “You said it felt right.”

  “Yes, but—”

  He brought his mouth down and nibbled along my jawline.

  “Oh,” I sighed. “Oh.” My traitorous body pressed into him.

  “Does this feel right, Zoe?”

  His lips and tongue traveled down my neck to that magical place.

  “Yes,” I panted. “But…but….” I needed to regain control. This needed to stop. Now. “There should be feelings.” I couldn’t just use him.

  He nipped my earlobe. “The only thing you should be feeling is this.”

  “Oh, my God. Please….” My voice came out soft and weak.

  “Dancing wasn’t the only thing I learned over the past seven years, Zoe. I can do things to you—”

  Oh. And you are.

  “—I can do things for you. Things he could never do.”

  Every muscle in my body went rigid. And he must have felt it, too, because he stopped. My voice was ice. “Is that what this is about, Nick? A competition?”

  He looked up at me. “No, I—”

  “You want to be the first to take good ol’ Zoe on a ride?”

  “What? The first? You and Zack never….”

  “Get. Out,” I said distinctly.

  He stared at me, his mouth hanging open like I was a dental hygienist advancing toward him with tools at the ready. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his sweater and shirt bunched up on my pillow. I grabbed it and shoved it into his chest.

  “Get out.”

  He put one foot down on the floor, but the other knee was still on the mattress. “You don’t mean—”

  I lost it. “Get out. Get out. Get out!”

  It was like I’d stepped outside of myself and was watching my craziness, but was powerless to stop it. My rage was disproportional to the circumstance. What was I doing? Maybe the emotions I’d kept smothered for such a long time were bursting out from all of the seams of my cracked heart. The carefully applied patches I’d made were strained beyond their capacity to hold. I was spinning out of control.

  “Can’t we talk about—?”

  I stumbled out on the opposite side of the bed and made this hissing noise like the coffee dripping on the hot plate that morning. Could that really be part of this same day? I charged around to Nick’s side and he backed up, clutching his clothes to his chest. I can’t say I blamed him. I was deranged. I grabbed his arm, not caring that I dug my nails into him.

  “Zoe. Zoe! Stop.”

  I got between him and the bed and shoved him toward the door.

  “Come on. We can talk about—”

  “Get out.” I found some source of super human strength and pushed him a few feet. He lurched forward. “Go. Go. Go!” He scooted out the door, dodging my flailing arms, and I slammed it behind him. I sucked in my breath, my back against the door. An eerie quiet settled over the room, the only sound my jagged breathing.

  “Zoe?” Nick murmured against the wood.

  I shook, and sobs came out of nowhere.

  “Oh, God, Zoe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault. I thought the words but didn’t have the ability to speak them. Trying to regain control, I put a hand over my mouth, but tears flew from my eyes and ran down my face, climbing over and sliding under my hand.

  “Please don’t cry. Let me hold you. I won’t try anything.”

  But the dull ache I carried with me every day exploded exponentially. The shuddering became stronger and in seconds I was a screaming, slobbering mess. I was losing my mind.

  I pressed my back into the door harder, sliding down and drawing my knees in to circle them with one arm. I hadn’t cried over him in a long time. I guess I didn’t have it as all together as I thought I did.

  I don’t know how much time had passed when I became cognizant of my surroundings again. It was stone quiet. My steam ran out and I was tired. Just so, so tired. My throat was raw from crying, my eyes swollen and heavy.

  Nick left at some point. In the back of my mind I had registered the sound of the front door closing behind him. The guilt and humiliation over my unnecessary meltdown gnawed at my gut. Exhausted from my hysterical fit, I slid onto my side, still curled up in the fetal position. I slept with my back against the door.

  Chapter 8

  Zoe

  I sat at my desk and stared at the dark windows. I couldn’t see out as it was almost seven-thirty and the sun had gone down a half-hour ago. I’d managed to get through my day okay, if rather zombielike. Even dodged questions from Mimi successfully, blaming my strange behavior on lack of sleep. But how would I get through a one-on-one conference with a parent? They asked to come later, which w
as fine with me, as I didn’t want to return to my apartment where I practically…yeah. I sighed and laid my head on my arms, which were folded on my desk. If it were any other student than Ryker, I would have canceled. But I was genuinely concerned about him and my personal life could not affect such a precious child. And, well, yeah. He was my favorite.

  There, I admit it.

  Voices rang in the empty hall and I came to life. Spinning away from the door, I tried to collect myself before they arrived. I caught his reflection in the windows and whirled around to stare in disbelief. Bolting out of my chair, I sent it crashing into my wall, then backed up until a file cabinet drawer handle stabbed me in the small of my back.

  Ben Oatam.

  “No way,” he breathed. He took a step back, and checked the name plate on the wall outside my room.

  “No f’in’ way.”

  “Teacher!” Ryker lunged forward, and Ben scrambled to pull him back against his body. Ryker looked up at Ben with big round eyes.

  I struggled to bring my breathing in check. I didn’t want to scare Ryker.

  “I…didn’t know.”

  “You…didn’t…know?” My voice squeaked at the end and I bit my lower lip, blinking away angry tears. I glanced at Ryker, who now seemed to understand something was wrong. He looked from Ben to me. Slowly, I crouched and worked up a smile. “Ry—” I cleared my throat. “Ryker?”

  He tore away and ran to me. That beautiful sound of size four tennis shoes pattering across linoleum—I wanted to record it. But did he hear the flft-flft-flft-flft? He sprang into my arms, launching himself from such a distance I had to put my hand down behind me to keep from falling on my butt.

  “Take it easy—” Ben stepped forward and my eyes snapped up. He froze. “—buddy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

  I peered down into Ryker’s angelic face. “Do you want to play in the building center?” I made sure to speak in his “good” ear.

  “Yea.” He sped off without a second’s hesitation leaving me standing within feet of the man who assaulted me eight years ago. I stared at him. He had a jagged scar on one side of his neck that looked pretty fresh, and he’d aged more than he should have. But, besides that, he seemed the same.