by Blair Holden
“Tessie . . .” he starts but I can’t stop myself from talking.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean it like that; you shouldn’t have to suffer through this. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told Travis that. Go out, do something fun, whatever it is you guys do. Why don’t you try to catch an NFL game and maybe Alex . . .”
I never get to finish my sentence since Cole places his hands at the nape of my neck, brings me forward, and kisses me before I have time to react. My eyes widen in surprise at first but then as I feel the pressure of his soft lips on mine, I give in to the basic instinct and kiss him back. I don’t care if Travis is upstairs or that my dad might come home from work anytime. All I can focus on is Cole and how wonderful his kisses feel. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I crush myself against his hard chest. He growls, his hand traveling downward to my butt.
We break away when I begin to feel a little dizzy and a lot breathless. Cole chuckles as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek. It’s a chaste gesture compared to what we were just doing but it’s just as knee-melting.
“I think that answers any doubts you had about me staying.”
Since there are still fireworks going off in my head it takes a little while for the words to make sense to me. I nod like an idiot, every inch of my skin still tingling from his touch. Does this happen to everyone? I need to send out a survey just to reassure myself that I’m not some nymphomaniac.
“Yeah . . .”
He chuckles again and drags me by the arm to the kitchen, depositing me at the kitchen counter since I still haven’t fully recovered the use of my legs. I watch in a kind of daze as Cole rummages through the fridge and takes out whatever he needs to make the chicken noodle soup. It’s when he steps in the space between my legs that I focus on something besides the wonderful feelings coursing through me.
“You do know that I’d mop the floors if that’s what it took to spend time with you, right?”
I love him.
It’s not just what he’s just said to me but it’s just a culmination of every moment I’ve spent with him that leads me to this conclusion. Before he walked back into my life, I felt like I wasn’t good enough. That’s what my poisonous obsession with Jay and his even more toxic relationship with Nicole had led me to believe. I thought there must have been something wrong with me that everyone would pick someone else over me. My parents picked their personal problems, my brother picked Jack Daniel’s, my best friend picked popularity, and the supposed love of my life picked reputation. So you can understand why I didn’t have the highest self-esteem. I let Nicole walk all over me because I thought that was what I deserved but I know better now. People will treat me better if I learn to treat myself better and that’s what Cole has taught me. He’s the person who’s made me feel better about myself and made me accept myself for who I am. He’s shown me how to give people second chances and to believe that they can change for the better and not just for the worst.
Hence I love him and am most probably in love with him. It hits me like the combination of a lightning bolt and a freight train. Were I not sitting, I’d definitely collapse from the force of it. The look on his face, that light shining in his eyes, tells me that he might feel the same way but I’m still not brave enough to tell him. It’s too soon and I’m scared. I don’t want to chase him away, especially not now.
“Well, luckily you won’t have to do that but I believe you.”
His hands rest on my hips, his thumbs rubbing themselves in circular motions. He does things like this a lot now and I don’t shy away from him. It’s like we’ve crossed an invisible bridge and are much more comfortable now, free to grab untaken liberties.
He leans forward and pecks my lips. “Good,” he whispers against my lips and pulls back. He starts to cook and I watch him, completely mesmerized. Homemade soup will probably warm Travis toward Cole more than my attempt to heat something out of a can so I let him do the work. He moves so incredibly well in the kitchen, it’s like an art, and the way he carries himself so assuredly is sexy beyond belief. Plus the man cooks like a god, so you know you can’t help but love him.
“Where did you learn to cook like that?” I muse as he chops vegetables like the knife is an extension of his arm.
He doesn’t look up from the board when he answers me. “I needed a job back in military school. Dad wasn’t being very generous with my allowance. The cook, Mrs. Montgomery, liked me and I asked her if I could get a job in the kitchens after school. She taught me everything I know,” he reminisces.
I realize then that we don’t really talk about his time at military school so much. Whenever I bring up the topic he changes the subject smoothly enough that I don’t even notice. Lately however, I’ve begun to pick it up more and more. I wonder if he’s ready now.
“How was it there, military school, I mean? Is it as bad as the movies?”
He shrugs, his knife not halting, but I notice his shoulders stiffening. “It’s just like any other boarding school but stricter. It’s a lot more, disciplined, I guess. You’d think they’d have a lot of people with juvie records but mostly it’s just rich kids whose parents couldn’t be damned to spend time fixing their problems.”
It’s the most emotion I’ve gotten out of him regarding this topic ever. I can see the anger rolling off of him. I have to keep going; he needs to talk about this stuff and get it all out. All this time he’s been helping me fight my own personal demons but now I need to do the same for him.
“Cole, surely you don’t think your dad . . .”
He gathers the vegetables and throws them into the pot with the butter. As he sautés them, he shrugs once more. I think it’s part of his defensive mechanism, pretending that something doesn’t affect him when it obviously does.
“I went because I wanted to. Dad suggested it when I started acting out more but he didn’t force me to go.”
This is news to me. I’d always thought that Cole never had a choice but to go. He didn’t seem like the kind to volunteer himself for a punishment like that. Why would he do that? I ask him just that.
He concentrates awfully hard on stirring the pot in front of him. “I was a coward, Tessie. I took the easy way out.”
He looks at me and must have seen the confusion on my face, which makes him explain himself.
“I told you once before that I thought I had to get away from you to get over you. It was driving me insane; I don’t do well with jealousy. You were so convinced you were in love with Jay that it was like you never saw me. I had to do some pretty bad things just to make you notice me. You hated me, sure, but at least you knew I existed.”
I try to speak past the golf-ball-size ball in my throat. “I always knew you existed, Cole. I was always aware of you.”
“You were terrified of me,” he scoffs and I can see the self-loathing in his eyes. “I left because I didn’t want the situation to get worse. I thought that in time you’d just remember me as the kid who annoyed you in grade school and I would be happy with that.”
“But . . .” I prompt.
“I couldn’t stay away. Trust me, I tried. There were plenty of distractions and I acted like a complete asshole but I guess I was always looking for you.”
I know I should be touched by his confession but I can’t help but wince when he says he had plenty of distractions. Of course he had. Girls must have fallen all over themselves for him. Immediately I hate all of them, anyone who’d meant something to him. But then again those girls didn’t force him into skipping town and going to military school because of their obliviousness.
“Why did it take you so long to come back? You were gone almost four years, you didn’t come back once, not even during the holidays. What made you decide that you wanted to return?”
I try keeping the hurt and accusation out of my voice but I guess I don’t do a good enough job. Cole looks shamefaced as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Avoiding any
eye contact, he moves closer.
“I did come back.”
“What?”
“I came back this summer, just for a day. Cassandra called me, she was really upset. She blamed herself for me wanting not to come back. I don’t know why, I guess she thought I had never learned to love her like I loved my own mom. I had to come back to make her feel better.”
Cole’s mom had died of a heart attack when he was four. As a kid, I didn’t get around to knowing her well but my mom always told me that she was a wonderful woman and that Cole looked just like her. I know he’s telling the truth, I believe his sincerity.
“So why didn’t you come see me?”
“I tried. I came by the house. I didn’t know about Travis or his drinking problems but when he saw me he lost it. I tried to tell him that I just wanted to apologize, to say sorry for everything I’d done to you but he wouldn’t have it. I guess I pissed him off a lot since he practically broke my nose.”
“What?” I shriek, jumping off the counter in one go. I place my hands on Cole’s shoulders and force him to look at me.
“Please tell me that’s not true,” I beg.
“I don’t blame him for hitting me. I’m the prick who terrorized his sister, I deserved it.”
“No, you don’t understand. Travis always knew you liked me. He wouldn’t do that; it must have been the alcohol. He’s not that person anymore.”
“I know, Tessie, I do. You don’t have to defend him. It’s just that I know he never told you about seeing me, did he? Not when I was leaving and then again when I came back.”
I shake my head, feeling angry and sad at the same time. He should have told me; Travis had no right to keep a secret that wasn’t his to keep. But then I remember what he’d been until very recently. His days and nights consisted of alcohol and nothing more. He hadn’t been in his right mind, how could I expect him to hold a civil conversation, let alone remember one?
“But I saw you, you know? When I was leaving, I saw you from my car and that’s why I came back in the fall.”
Even more confused, I study his face for a clue and try to understand what made him come back.
“You were sitting on the sidewalk. Even though you had your head down on your knees I could still tell it was you. That hoodie of yours, the Batman one you wore every day to school for a week was pretty much all I had to see to know it was you. Your shoulders were shaking but I couldn’t tell if you were crying or laughing.”
I remember the day he’s talking about and the memory turns my face crimson. If he saw what had happened next, I would feel even more pathetic about how much of a pushover I’d been. The events play in my mind as I recall the particularly nasty confrontation with Nicole and her silicon soldiers. I’d gone to the café near my dad’s office after an extremely grueling college discussion session with him. He’d been stressing on Dartmouth when all I’d ever wanted was to go to Brown. Then that floozy secretary of his had basically fallen into his lap in front of me and the two had flirted like there was no tomorrow. I had stormed out, craving one of my only two weaknesses post Fatty Tessie—ice cream. I’d ordered a double scoop topped with rainbow sprinkles and that’s when I’d been busted.
Nicole’s bully radar had pointed her straight to me and to the gigantic cone in my hand. She gathered half of the dance team and stalked toward me. I’d already started feeling embarrassed having been caught pigging out. I still didn’t feel comfortable with my body even after having lost all that weight and Nicole was surely going to pick me apart.
Which she did—brutally, I might add. By the time she was finished with me, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I dropped the ice cream right there and ran out. Running as fast as I could, I ended up near the outskirts of town, collapsing on the ground and then sobbing my eyes out. Then I did something which I hadn’t forgiven myself for forever. I hadn’t done it ever again but the urge was strong and in a moment of complete hopelessness, I made myself throw up. Right there on the street that I thought had been deserted. Guess I was wrong. “You didn’t . . .”
“I did. I’m sorry baby; I know you never wanted me to see it but I . . .”
“You came back because you felt sorry for me?” My voice is too high-pitched and screechy like it always gets when I’m mad but it’s worse—I feel completely naked and vulnerable.
“No!” He grabs my arm forcefully, stopping me from running. “I came back because I knew I couldn’t stay away from you. I had to be near you, I had to make sure you were okay. When I saw you crying, it felt like someone had ripped my heart right out of my chest, damn it! Then when you . . . did that it just broke me. I wanted to kill the person who made you feel like you had to do that to yourself. Don’t you see? It wasn’t pity; it was how I felt about you! How I’ve always felt about you.”
Tears sting my eyes as I stare in wonder at him. Should I believe him? Does he really not feel sorry for me? I’m baffled; I don’t know what to think. I want to believe him but it seems too good to be true.
“Tessie, please believe me. I’d never lie to you, you know that, right?”
“I . . . I believe you.”
His entire body slackens after my words. The kind of love I feel for him surges through me and I all but attack him, jumping into his arms. I bury my face in his chest and take in the smell of him as he wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I kiss a trail up his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart against my skin.
His voice is husky and throaty as he asks, “For what, baby?” before kissing the top of my head.
I pull back and kiss him gently on the mouth before cupping his face. “For saving me.”
His eyes glisten before he crashes his lips to mine, growling low in his throat as he does so. He urges me to wrap my legs around him and I do so. My hands fist themselves in his hair and his roam underneath my shirt. His tongue sneaks out and darts against my lips. The feeling is so exquisite that I’m instantly greedy for more. Hesitantly, I open my mouth allowing our tongues to touch for the first time and it is sheer bliss. I moan as I’m filled with the taste of him, pressed up to every inch of him. He backs me into the counter so that the edge of the granite top presses into my spine but I’m too busy floating in the clouds to care. He kisses me fiercely like his life depends on it and I try to keep up with him.
“Hey guys, I asked you to make soup, not babies.”
There are some things you wish your brother would never come across. This includes any underwear, sanitary products, and texts from your boyfriend. Having him watch you getting hot and heavy in the kitchen with a guy he supposedly hates would top that list.
But then again, this is me we’re talking about and things like this just have to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Three: It’s Like The Freaking Jungle Book in My Stomach
I’ve had a bad week. Scratch that, I’ve hit the mother lode of bad weeks and even though it’s Friday and school will be over in an hour or two, I feel like I’ve been enduring this agony for eons. See, I’d been living the dream recently, what with Cole in my life and all. He’s the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could ask for. The fact that even he failed to cheer me up just makes the situation all the worse.
My mom texted my dad, I repeat, she texted him and declared that she wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, spouting nonsense about discovering herself. It’s a little early for her to have a midlife crisis if you ask me but that’s the point here, no one asks me. My father couldn’t care less; he hasn’t cared about her in years past my grandfather’s funding. He’s just moved on with his life—and his secretary, who I’m pretty sure gave him a hickey the other day.
Mom will come back; that’s not the problem. She’s all about saving face and a long-term absence will raise questions. This would explain why she’s asked us to tell the country club wives that she’s in some remote village in Africa, helping improve maternal health. I worry for my mother’s sou
l, I do. She might not be a great parent but it’s not like I want her to burn in hell for the rest of eternity. The real problem is that she seems to think she’s not just leaving her husband but her kids as well. Neither Travis or I have heard a word from her and it’s making me mad.
All this coincided with “that week,” you know, the one where you want to chop off everyone’s head with a blunt ax? I have major abandonment issues and my mother’s blatant dropping out of my life has just fueled those insecurities to a point that I think I’ve become psychotic. I’ve taken a leave from a job I only have to go to twice a week. I haven’t been paying attention in class and ditched a girls’ night with Megan and Beth. No one’s pushing me though; they all know what’s wrong with me. I’m glad that they are so understanding, especially Cole. He understands what I’m like during what he refers to as my “lady time” and gives me the space I so desperately need but I’m indefinitely worse this time. Thanks a lot, Mom.
What I have a problem with is how easy it was for her to just uproot her entire life and move on. When the going got tough, she hitchhiked the first ride she could get ahold of and is now all set to reinvent herself. How could she just up and leave without even putting into consideration the amount of damage she’d leave behind? Fine, she wasn’t much of a parent in any case but at least she was there. Now I hear stories about her and cabana boys and it is sickening. What my parents have is a disgustingly open marriage, an embarrassment for the institution. Why can’t they just get divorced and give us all some peace of mind? At least then I’ll know it’s over but no, they like toying with my feelings.
With that thought, I slam my locker shut and basically stomp my way to the last class of the day. It’s the one I share with the Brothers Grimm and Nikki the ho bag. If she so much as looks at me in the wrong way today, I’ll poke her eye out with a blunt number two pencil. My hormones and I have had too much of her brooding and glaring, it’s time to move on, sister.
