Instead of You

by Anie Michaels

  Sitting down at my desk, my homework in front of me, piles formed based on which assignments were most important or due first, was just a little overwhelming. I knew if I took it one piece at a time it would be easy, but the stacks intimidated me. I picked up my phone and called Hayes.

  “Hey,” he answered, the sound of his voice, just one word, making some of my stress float away. “You get home okay?”

  “Yeah, the girls dropped me off a little while ago.” I stood from my desk and walked to my bed, lying down and looking out the window. “Did your mom do all right while you were gone?”

  “I think so. Actually, she got out of bed a little while ago and ate breakfast.” His voice sounded optimistic and happy.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “She ate, then took a shower, and now she’s in the living room. She’s just sitting there watching TV, but she’s not in bed, so I say it’s a win.” The hope in his voice broke my heart. I wanted that for him, for his mother to get better. Not only for Mrs. Wallace’s sake, but equally for Hayes’s.

  “It’s a good day, then.”

  “The best,” he replied, voice lower and raspy, making the hairs on my arms stand up. “It killed me to leave you this morning.”

  “Well, it killed me to come back to the tent and see you were gone. But I understand why you left. It was smart, actually. We’re lucky no one saw you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to come over later with my mom.”

  “And the day just gets better and better.”

  “Do you think it’s going to get harder to be around our parents? To pretend like nothing is happening between us?”

  “Probably,” he said, the honesty vibrating in his voice. “Does that bother you?”

  I shrugged and then realized he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. It just sucks that something that makes me so happy has the potential to hurt so many people.”

  “Just promise me something, Kenz.”

  “What?”

  “Promise me the moment you aren’t happy anymore, you’ll tell me.”

  His voice told me he was thinking about all the time I spent with Cory. All the years I convinced myself the feelings would come eventually. I didn’t have the words to explain to him how being unhappy with him seemed like an impossibility.

  “You’re not him, Hayes. And I’m not the same person I was when I was with him, either. I’ll tell you how I know the difference.”

  “How?”

  “My feelings for you were never a question. I never once had to think about how I felt. I’ve known all along it was you, I was just too afraid to believe it.” I waited, listening to his soft breaths through the phone, wanting to hear any kind of response.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that to me over the phone,” he murmured, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  “Because I can’t kiss you through the phone.”

  His words had the same effect as a kiss: my head became light, my mouth turned up in a shy smile, and my pulse raced. “Oh,” was my breathy response.

  “I’ll find a way to kiss you later.”

  Oh, God.

  My body reacted immediately to his words, my core clenching, breath hitching. I didn’t know if he meant he’d find an opportunity to kiss me, or he’d kiss me in a way I’d only imagined someone kissing me—his mouth on unfamiliar parts of my body.

  “All right.” I wasn’t sure he heard me; my voice was just a whoosh of air, my lungs simply giving up on functioning correctly.

  “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “Okay.”

  He hung up and if I weren’t already lying down, I would have collapsed onto my bed. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to keep up with Hayes; he obviously had an advantage in the sexual prowess department. Something told me even if he left me in the dust, I’d regret not taking the ride.

  Chapter Seventeen

  McKenzie

  It was dinnertime and Mom and I were headed to see Mrs. Wallace and Hayes. My dad stayed behind, telling us he had things to work on at home. Mom kissed his cheek, her hand reverently on his face, and told him she loved him before we left the house.

  Mark had been my dad’s best friend. Introduced to each other through my mom and Mrs. Wallace, they’d become fast friends. Twenty years of friendship had been built between them, and I knew my dad was taking Mark’s loss hard. Not in an unhealthy way, but still in a gut-wrenching way. I knew going to Mark’s house made him uncomfortable—he did it, but he sometimes tried to stay away. That evening seemed to be one of those times.

  My mother carried two pizza boxes down the street while I kept pace beside her. She’d decided she was too lazy to cook, so it became a pizza night.

  “I hope Chelsea doesn’t mind the pizza.”

  “Mom, you know she won’t.”

  “Part of me kind of wishes she would. I’d love to see the feisty side of Chelsea, love to see her get worked up over something. Anything. “

  “She’ll come around.” I tried to sound confident in my words, but the truth was, I had no idea. I could hope, just as much as anyone, that eventually she’d be all right, but I knew there was no guarantee.

  Just like it’d been for over twenty years, my mom pushed open the door to the Wallace household without knocking. We stepped in, but I stopped suddenly when I collided with my mother’s back. I was not even a foot inside the house and my mother was stalled. I followed her gaze and my eyes landed on Mrs. Wallace, sitting on the couch, showered, and looking tired but completely lucid.

  She looked more alive than she had in weeks.

  “Chels,” my mom breathed. I placed both my hands on my mother’s arms, near her shoulders, my heart nearly breaking at the sound of my mother’s unbelieving words, as if she were seeing a ghost.

  “Hey, Luce.” She smiled and my mother’s shoulders started to shake, moving with a mixture of laughter and tears. Even I was surprised by the transformation. Mrs. Wallace looked almost normal. She still had dark circles under her eyes, and she’d lost a lot of weight, but the distant, faraway look in her eyes was practically gone.

  Mrs. Wallace stood from the couch, pushing up on the cushion with force to lift herself, weak from weeks of not using her muscles, but she made it. Then she slowly walked toward us. I put gentle pressure on my mother’s back, urging her into the house. She shuffled forward and I was able to enter and close the door behind me.

  I’d been so wrapped up in Mrs. Wallace, I hadn’t noticed Hayes in the kitchen, but my eyes swung to him as he walked to my mother, taking the pizza boxes from her just in time for Mrs. Wallace to wrap my mother in a hug.

  “It’s good to see you,” Mrs. Wallace whispered, still hugging my mother tightly.

  “You, too.”

  Both of them had silent tears streaking their faces, and I wiped away one of my own. A light touch caressed my arm and I looked over to see Hayes with his hand wrapped around my elbow, steering me toward the kitchen. I followed him and we started setting the table and getting dinner ready, giving our mothers a moment alone.

  A minute later they broke apart, both laughing lightly, wiping beneath their eyes, Mrs. Wallace’s smile tinted with sadness still. I wondered if I’d ever see her again without the shroud of grief. Probably not.

  “Shall we eat?” Hayes’s question caught their attention and I watched his mother’s gaze soften when her eyes fell on him.

  “It’s just pizza,” my mom said, defending the meal we’d brought.

  “It’s perfect,” Mrs. Wallace said with a smile.

  We all sat at the table, Hayes taking the seat next to mine, making me hide a smile. Our mothers held light conversation, never venturing into any heavy topics, and I was content to sit and listen. I knew the conversation was good for Mrs. Wallace, that she was taking a big step in moving forward, but it was also good for my mom; she’d missed her best friend.

  When a foot hooked aroun
d my ankle beneath the table, I tried not to react, but couldn’t help it when my eyes stole away to Hayes. He wasn’t looking at me, but I saw his smile anyhow. He brought my foot toward him, captured it really, and then held it hostage between his own. Every few moments I felt his toes move up my calf, making it impossible for me to eat without looking like I was trying to keep a secret.

  “McKenzie’s been a big help around here, Luce. I really appreciate her.” My name from Mrs. Wallace’s mouth caught my attention. “I shouldn’t have leaned on her as much as I did, but in some ways, she’s all I have left of Cory.”

  My stomach plummeted all the way to my knees. Warmth drained from my face and I’m sure all my color went with it. I shrugged. “I haven’t done anything. Just brought over some food and stuff.” Mrs. Wallace reached her hand over and placed it on mine, squeezing it gently.

  “Just having you here helps, McKenzie. When I lost Cory, I knew I’d lost you too, in a way. You’re the closest thing to a daughter I’ve ever had, and I was looking forward to the day I could call you mine officially.”

  Oh, God, no. My eyes flitted to my mother’s and she looked like a combination of sad for her friend and worried about me. Mrs. Wallace’s words were landing on my shoulders like boulders, pinning me down in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. Hayes’s foot unhooked from mine and it was as though he’d cut the rope to my life raft, sending me out to sea to fend for myself.

  “Mom,” he said, his voice soft but rough.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said, waving one hand, dismissing him, while the other wiped a tear from her face. “I know you’ll marry someone one day, but it won’t be the same. McKenzie and Cory were meant to be, from day one.”

  All the oxygen in the room was being sucked out by her words, my lungs shriveling in my chest, aching for air.

  “Chelsea,” my mom whispered, slowly shaking her head. Mrs. Wallace looked at her, then seemed to wake up a little, as if her mind had been somewhere else. She looked around the table, probably taking in my stunned expression and Hayes’s face, which looked like a cross between angry and murderous.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth between Hayes and me. “I think,” she started, but stopped, looking at my mom. “I think I want to get some fresh air. Will you go for a walk with me?”

  Everyone was silent. Besides doctor’s appointments for sleeping pills, Mrs. Wallace hadn’t left the house since the funeral. For her to ask to leave, to offer to go for a walk, was surprising. I was floating somewhere between being happy for the milestone and relieved she was leaving and giving my mind and body a chance to deal with the effect of her words.

  Hayes and I both sat in silence while our mothers pulled on their jackets, tied their shoes, and left the house.

  I had no words, so I was glad when Hayes spoke first.

  “She doesn’t understand what she’s saying.” His voice was still low and raspy, like his throat was doing everything it could to hold back his screams. It was the kind of control that you knew was just seconds away from being lost, like he could snap at any moment. “She’s drowning, Kenz. In grief. She can’t understand the effect her words are having. You can’t take what she says to heart.”

  I sat in my chair, mouth tightly shut, hands clasped tightly around each other in my lap, jaw tense, with emotion simply squeezing me to the point of rupture. I was trying to hold it all in, trying to let the wave of anger and sadness pass over me, to feel it crest and wane, but it just kept building until I couldn’t take it any longer.

  My elbows came to the table, my face went into my hands, and I erupted in cries. It was not even two seconds before Hayes had his arms around me, holding me, his hand running soft circles on my back. And I simply cried. The very last thing I needed in that moment was for Mrs. Wallace to walk in on her other son touching me in a way that indicated anything more than friendship.

  I stood up quickly, my chair scraping against the linoleum floor, and I ran to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, locked it, and didn’t even bother with the light. I didn’t particularly want to look at myself in that moment anyhow.

  I was the worst kind of person.

  Again, not two seconds after I’d made it into the bathroom, Hayes was on the other side of the door, pounding on it.

  “Kenzie, don’t do this. Don’t push me away. We have to stick together.” His words were punctuated by thumping on the door. I could picture him on the other side, breathing hard, waiting for me to open the door, to open myself up to him again.

  It was so easy to forget that what we were doing was wrong. So easy. I let the way I felt around him, the way every part of me cried out for him, overshadow the fact that there’s no way for our relationship to be right.

  He was my boyfriend’s brother. The brother of my boyfriend who died thinking I loved him, thinking that I would spend the rest of my life with him. And he was my History teacher. I couldn’t think of one single other person who I could choose to start a relationship with that could cause as much destruction as Hayes and I could if anyone found out about us.

  “You don’t have to mourn him the way other people think you should, Kenz. You don’t have to stay home, you don’t have to be single forever, you don’t have to act any certain way. My mom wants you to be sad without him forever, because that’s how she thinks she’s going to feel. Sad. Forever. But that’s not true. And it’s not how you have to feel either.”

  I turned my back to the mirror I couldn’t see, rested my rear against the counter, and ran my fingertips under my eyes, wiping away the wetness.

  “Please, baby, let me in.” Those words were whispered, and I thought I heard fear in them as well. I reached out and turned the lock. He must have heard it because the door slowly opened, light streaking into the bathroom. He opened it just far enough to get his body through, and then he closed it. When I heard the lock turn again, my breath caught in my lungs.

  It was dark in the bathroom but I could still see him move to stand right in front of me, see his shadowed form come to a stop. His hand reached out and gripped my hip, my eyes closing at his touch even though I could see barely anything. I’d never experienced such conflicting emotions before. On one hand, I desperately wanted him to touch me, to soothe the ache inside of me, force me to focus on what his touch made me feel as opposed to the pain currently ripping through me. On the other hand, I knew, on some level, he shouldn’t have been touching me at all. I should push him away. I should tell him we couldn’t do whatever it was we were doing anymore.

  But I simply wasn’t strong enough.

  When I didn’t push away his first touch, he reached out with his other hand, both hands now on my waist. Slowly they moved toward my back, pulling me into him.

  And I went.

  Because I was weak.

  We’d all lost so much, and losing Hayes would have been too much to bear.

  When I was pressed against him, my hands wound around his waist, his hands moving into my hair, the tears didn’t stop and neither did the thoughts. So I spoke them. I let them have a voice.

  “Our being together is going to hurt everyone around us, Hayes. If they ever found out, if your mom ever knew, it would break her. It’s wrong, Hayes. We’re wrong.”

  “I know,” he whispered after a long pause. “But nothing has ever felt so right.”

  I couldn’t argue with him.

  His hands moved from my hair, down to the sides of my neck, and he leaned away from me. I opened my eyes and all I could see was the outline of his face, feel the warmth of his hands on my throat, the gentle stroking of his thumbs over my cheeks, still wet from tears. When his lips feathered over mine I didn’t try to pull away. I knew it was wrong, but that wasn’t reason enough to stop him. The way he kissed me, as if I could fall apart at any moment, as if he didn’t know whether his kiss would shatter me or hold me together, it made me love him that much more.

  Good, bad, wrong, or right, I needed him to know.

 
; “I love you,” I said against his lips between kisses. For seconds, the only thing I heard was the thundering of my pulse in my ears. “I don’t care if it’s wrong, it doesn’t make it feel any less real, any less true.” He was still quiet, his hands frozen in place on the sides of my face. Then they were quickly moved to my hips where he gripped me, picked me up, and placed me on the counter. My knees instinctively opened, and he immediately moved in between them. He was still so much taller than me, and even though it was pitch black, I still tilted my head up to look at him, knowing without a doubt he was looking down at me.

  “You love me?” he asked, quickly followed by, “or you’re in love with me?”

  I understood why he was asking, why he needed the clarification, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to reassure him.

  “Every part of me is in love with you.” The words left my mouth just before his lips descended. The kiss was soft and slow, lingering, as if he wanted it to be branded there, to last forever, to mark me. My hands lifted to his stomach, sliding around, pulling him closer to me. With every second of the kiss that elapsed, the panic within me rose. His kisses, unlike any kiss I’d ever received, were limited. We had an expiration date, I could feel it. There was no way for this to last. Something would pull us apart, wedge between us, crack the foundation we were standing on, which was already broken when we climbed atop it. I pulled away just as a sob ripped out of me, climbing out of my chest.

  “You know I’m in love with you, Kenzie. I love you so fucking much,” he said, holding my face to his chest as I cried. His hands pulled me into him, moving rapidly to make sure he got hold of all of me.

  I didn’t answer him, couldn’t vocalize what I was thinking. It doesn’t matter how much we love each other; it’s all doomed anyway.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hayes

  Sitting at my desk, I looked over the assignment in front of me, the one I was supposed to be grading. I’d read the first paragraph four times already, each time losing interest and my mind wandering. I dropped the paper, exhaling loudly, running my hands over my face. It had been almost a week since McKenzie had told me she loved me, that she was in love with me. It wasn’t at all how I’d imagined those words passing our lips for the first time—in a dark bathroom, her crying, the words sounding more like a good-bye than the promise of a future together.