Fixed Infatuation

by Stacy Borel

  The beeping on the machine increased. I was in a car accident. I didn’t remember much, but I did know I saw her. She was fine. She was standing next to the car and there wasn’t a scratch on her. I wasn’t dreaming. I know I wasn’t dreaming. Did they have to take her to another room, so they could look over her to make sure she was okay? That must be it. I was in worse shape than she was, which was why my dad was in here with me, and she was being looked at by the doctors.

  Except, something still wasn’t sitting right. And I found myself afraid to ask the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

  “Dad?” I waited for him to look at me. He was staring blankly at my chest. I was about to say his name again when the same dark eyes, my eyes, looked at me. “Dad, where’s Mom?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His jaw was working overtime and he blinked a few times as if to hold back emotion that was bubbling on the surface. My dad wasn’t an emotional man. I’d never seen him cry. I’d seen many other facets of him, but this was uncharted waters.

  “She didn’t make it.”

  My brain didn’t compute that statement. “What?”

  He blinked some more. “She died on scene. Th-they said it was instant.” He cleared his throat.

  No, that couldn’t be right. That wasn’t right.

  “I saw her, Dad. She watched me get into the ambulance.”

  He shook his head. “No. She was gone.”

  “But I saw her. She was standing by the car. Sh-she was fine. She was standing and there was nothing wrong with her.”

  As the words were pouring out of my mouth, the reality of what I was saying was seeping into my veins. She died at the scene. How was the possible? None of this was making any sense. Jesus, would someone shut this fucking beeping off? I ripped the pulse oximeter off my finger and it became silent. My eyes darted all over the room for her. My dad didn’t budge. He stared at my chest and was still as a statue. This was all a mistake.

  “I saw her, Dad. She was fine.”

  “You saw nothing. It was a figment of your imagination,” he replied, getting agitated.

  I shook my head to argue, but it made me dizzy. I laid my head back. “No. She was standing by the car and she looked at me.”

  Had she, though?

  My dad’s fierce eyes pierced through me, and I knew by his anger and conviction that my life would be different from this moment forward. “Your mother is dead. Her side went under the truck, and she was found in pieces. Pieces!” he gritted out. The picture he was painting was making me feel sick to my stomach. “She’s not alive, Blake. She isn’t even whole. You fucking saw nothing.”

  I gulped. The lump in my throat was too much. I felt the first warm tear trickling down my cheek. My mom wasn’t whole. Does that mean she was severed by the truck? Oh my God, I was going to throw up. There was a basin next to me and I grabbed it just before I heaved a big fat nothing inside of it. My retching made me feel like my stomach was being torn in half. Dad offered me no assistance or comfort. He didn’t move. Did he blame me? Surely, he wasn’t blaming me for a truck pulling out in front of us. It couldn’t be avoided. Could it? How did I not realize my mom was gone? My new reality was barely settling in. She was standing by the mangled car… but not by me. If she was okay, why wasn’t she right by my side, holding my hand and telling me it was going to be okay?

  Oh my God.

  My mother was dead. I didn’t understand what I saw, but maybe it was her spirit. Which would be really fucking weird, and I would see that face and those eyes looking at me for the rest of my life. Tears were streaking down my face in rapid succession now.

  “Where’s Layla?” My sister would be with the sitter at home. I knew the answer as soon as I asked the question. “Where’s Thomas?”

  “He’s at home,” Dad stated, as he reached up and rubbed his temples.

  “Shouldn’t he be here waiting for me to wake up?”

  My dad’s eyes traveled to mine and said everything I needed to know. Thomas was angry. He too thought this was my fault. My whole family was blaming me, and they didn’t even seem to care I was still alive. I was still breathing. They still at least had me. It was a disgusting question to ponder, but would they feel this way if it had been the other way around?

  Probably not.

  I cried. I was almost eighteen years old, and I’d just lost my mother. Life was never going to be the same again. I was never going to be the same. She wouldn’t be here to guide me. To take my side when my dad was being an ass about something, which was all the time. She would never make me my favorite birthday meal. Or hear her singing her favorite Christmas carols while she made cookies. And she would never say the words ‘I love you’ again.

  I cried even harder.

  A nurse came in. I didn’t look at her, as she politely handed me a tissue and asked if I was in any pain. I nodded. I was in so much pain I felt sick again. I didn’t want to throw up air like I’d just done. It hurt too much. My heart was in pieces and that hurt too. Could I tell the doctors and nurses my heart was shattered? Was there a medication they could give me to dull the ache? My dad told the lady he was stepping outside to get some air.

  “Blake, I’m going to give you some Valium to help relax you, okay? There’s also Morphine in your IV bag, which should ease some of your discomfort and maybe help you sleep.” I felt her hand touch my arm. “You need to rest. Your body has been through a lot.”

  My whole body got warm and heavy. I closed my eyes and let the blanketed weight soothe my tired muscles. But my heart was done for. There was no medicine, no surgery, and no repair. It was finished. If a human could live without it, I’d ask them to take it out right now because it was useless to me. My love ran deep for my mom. I had no idea how deep until right now, living through this nightmare.

  Sleep. I just needed to sleep. Long chocolate hair in a ponytail and gentle light brown eyes watched me as I drifted off.

  Molly

  AFTER ALMOST A SOLID THREE DAYS of rain and gray darkness, it was blue skies and sunny. An instant picker-upper for my mood. I woke early to the sound of birds outside in the trees and the desire to go have my coffee and write a chapter or two on my back patio. I’d bought two Adirondack chairs, which would be the perfect spot for me to sit this morning and get some work done.

  Sandra had met me in the kitchen while I was brewing my coffee and said she was going to head into town to get a few knick-knacks to bring back to Boston with her. She only had two days left here. I probably should have gone with her, but I was looking forward to a few quiet hours to myself. She understood. When neither of us was used to constantly being in the company of someone all day every day, it was nice to take a breather.

  Once my pot of coffee was done brewing, I poured my cup, grabbed a light blanket off the back of my couch, my laptop, and headed outside. My backyard was a tranquil place to be. I’d potted a few tulips that would bloom in the coming weeks, and a few other bright flowers. I had neighbors on either side of me, but for the most part, my space was private. A retaining wall and large bushes prevented me from seeing the people who lived directly behind me. There was a very slight breeze blowing through my hair. It wasn’t enough to chill me, but it was enough to make me tuck the blanket over my legs. I was still in my pajama pants, and a light blue V-neck T-shirt with a sports bra underneath. Opening my laptop, I sat back and closed my eyes as I took my first sip of coffee. The first sip always being the best. I had no idea how anyone could function without coffee.

  A slight moan came from my throat in appreciation. That hits the spot. I pulled the cup away from my lips and was lowering it when I heard the voice I was beginning to associate as the devil incarnate. Plus the fact that it didn’t startle me should tell me that I was getting too used to him showing up somewhere.

  “Could you make that sound for me one more time? I didn’t quite get my fill.”

  I didn’t have to see him to know there was a sly grin on his face. I set my coffee down be
fore turning in my chair to face him. There he was with a dark gray shirt that hugged every inch of muscle and jeans that had seen better days. Except the way they hung low on his hips, when I knew there was a deep V hidden away made me want to bite my lip. His brown hair was ruffled but in a meaningful way, and his dark eyes were dancing in the light of the sun. He looked like a walking piece of candy. I maintained my composure despite probably having a smudge or two of day old mascara under my eyes, and not having brushed through my wavy blond hair. I wasn’t trying to impress him. Although I’d be lying if I said I wished my comb was near just so I could sort through the tangles real quick.

  “Do you ever go away?” I grumbled as nonchalantly as I could.

  He chuckled a deep, delicious sound. “Considering our close proximity, I can honestly say no.”

  “Great,” I replied sarcastically, taking another sip of coffee. I avoided the need to moan in satisfaction this time.

  He walked around to stand in front of me. “Where’s your little friend?”

  I sat taller in my seat. “Why, are you suddenly interested?”

  His head tilted slightly as he pondered that question. Him even thinking about it made me want to hit him.

  “No, but she and I do have a date.”

  I blinked in question. “Excuse me?”

  Blake plopped down in the other chair, and that’s when I saw him holding a tape measure and a small notebook. I felt like I was missing something here. “Got any more coffee? I haven’t had a chance to stop by the office and grab a cup.”

  “Erm… you’re joking, right?”

  “No.” He was looking at me like I was stupid.

  I closed my laptop and set it on the small table beside me. Smoothing out the wrinkles on the blanket just as a mindless thing to simmer my annoyance, I looked directly at him.

  “I may have some coffee, but I’m not giving you any. Can you elaborate, you have a date with Sandra?” When did they ever speak to each other without me present? I was all sorts of confused.

  There was a glimmer in his eyes. He was reacting to my question. Reaching over, he picked up my mug. I watched as he looked inside, seemed to make some sort of judgement about the amount of creamer I used, and decided to drink it anyway. My mouth dropped open, completely flabbergasted.

  He coughed. “You need to lay off the sugar. This is fucking terrible.” His face soured.

  I opened my mouth, only to close it, then opened it again. I’m sure I looked like a damn fish out of water, but where in the hell did he get off drinking out of someone else’s cup? That was just disgusting. Even if he was one of the most attractive men I’d seen.

  “That was mine.”

  He set it down. “Yeah, and you can keep it. Jesus, how are you not fat with all that sugar? Let me guess, you probably down a can or two of soda each day too?”

  I shook my head. “One. But that’s not any of your business.”

  “Seriously, that shit causes cancer.”

  “What? No, it doesn’t.”

  He pointed his thumb over his shoulder as if the person he was talking about was right behind him. “Ask my uncle. My aunt drank five cans of diet soda every single day. She suddenly died of a stroke and the doctors said it was because of all the fake sugars in those things. Eats little holes in your brain. Google it.”

  I sat in complete silence. Was there really any form of response to this conversation? I could honestly say, out of all the mornings I’d had since I’d moved into this house, this was by far the strangest one I’d had. My brain attempted to recap it like some sort of sitcom comedy show. So far, the gorgeous neighbor had shown up, claimed he had a date with my agent, stole my cup of coffee, told me I should be fat and apparently dying of cancer as well. You couldn’t make this shit up if you tried.

  Both of my hands came up to my face and rubbed at my eyes. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I did my best to compose myself. Which quickly melted away with the heat of his stare. He was watching me. Analyzing me. Studying me, to know his next move. He enjoyed watching me squirm. I think I needed to do something that was out of my comfort zone. I needed to find a way to beat him at his own game, or at least join him. I had no idea if it would work, but it was worth a shot. If nothing else, maybe it would freak him out and he’d leave and not come back.

  I scooted forward in the tilted seat and planted my slipper clad feet on the ground to keep from sliding back. I mustered bravery from deep down in my gut and put one of my hands on his thigh before I got a chance to chicken out. Immediately I regretted it. The thick muscle under my palm tensed and became firm. I felt the warmness of his body and it caused a sharp inhale of breath through my lips. My cheeks flared with redness, and I wanted nothing more than to go hide away in my house and not come out for ohhh… about five years. Grocery stores did home deliveries these days, right?

  This wasn’t something I could back out of. I’d already put myself in the predicament and I had to follow through. It was like climbing to the top of a big water slide with your massive inner tube only to realize how freaking scary that drop is going to be but walking back down is out of the question. You’re up there, you have to take the plunge.

  I could tell by his questioning eyes, he had no clue what was happening any more than I did. And I kind of wanted to know if he felt anything from this innocent touch, like I was. Instead, I came closer to him, pouted, then licked my lips. His eyes followed the movement like a cat watching a mouse. I tipped my head to the side. “Go away.”

  It had to have been the most anti-climatic thing I could have said, but it was all I had. He was unnerving me. I had wanted to be like those bimbo blondes on a 1-800 late night infomercial for phone sex. I figured every breathing male was attracted to something like that. Instead, I probably looked more like a frumpy, blond, Melissa McCarthy from the movie Bridesmaids. Possibly ten times more awkward.

  He flashed me his white teeth and came even closer. My heart started palpitating and I prayed like hell my breath didn’t smell like coffee.

  “You’re cute.” His eyes played over my face. The compliment caused a tickle in my stomach. He smiled, and it almost felt sincere enough I was going to smile back. Then he said, “No.”

  The corners of my mouth dropped, and I jerked my hand back. “Last I checked this was my property, Blake.”

  He sat back and crossed his legs. “I said I had a meeting with your friend. It’s work related, so I’m sorry. Until I get to speak to her, you’re stuck with me.”

  While I was relieved to hear it was work related, I’d had enough. I called Sandra and asked her to come back to the house. She could update me where my whole morning has gone haywire and maybe fix whatever mistake was happening. Unless she was hiring him to come out to Boston to fix her already perfect apartment, none of this made sense. I began tapping my foot.

  Sandra stumbled a bit on the phone when I told her who was here. She never stumbled. My overly intrusive agent was up to something and it didn’t take gut instinct to pick up on it. Blake’s nearness was wearing on my frazzled nerves and ego. He had plucked his phone from his pocket and was typing on it. He didn’t bother glancing up at me while we waited. Not once. I felt like a creep sitting in pajamas peering at him through my lashes.

  “Good morning, Blake. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Sandra stepped through the sliding glass doors and out into the sun. He stood up as she walked over to greet him.

  Shaking her hand politely, he said, “No, it’s my fault. I had a little more time this morning then I thought I did, so I figured I’d swap you around and get this done first.”

  I hadn’t moved. They talked like they’d known each other for a little longer than the day he came and fixed the pouring water in my bathroom. I raised my hand in the air, attempting to get their attention.

  “Uh, excuse me.” My eyes darted back and forth between them. “Does anyone care to fill me in here?”

  Sandra plastered on her fake business smile. I kne
w it well. I’d seen her in action at meetings, so I was a little surprised she thought she could pull this one on me. “Now before you react, I want you to hear me out.”

  That’s never a good way to start a conversation.

  “I know how stubborn you are. I called Blake because I think you could use some help.” She put her finger in the air, knowing damn well I was about to interrupt. “Molly, this house was a massive undertaking. I don’t think you even realize just how much work you have cut out for you. You’ve barely scratched the surface with painting walls. Do you even know what’s under the foundation? There are cracks all over and I need you to focus on writing, not watching the latest YouTube video so you can be Bob the Fucking Builder. Blake is going to help. We’re starting in the kitchen.”

  “Can I speak now?” I asked and she nodded.

  “I knew what I got when I signed the papers. This was a project, one I wanted to do little by little. I love you for being your usual nosy self, but this was a test of my abilities. I am excited to do this.” I glanced at my house. “All of this... on my own.”

  I heard the grunt next to me. “Yeah, not likely.”

  I ignored him. “Besides, when the time came to get some help, I told you I’d call someone. I just wasn’t planning on calling him.” I jerked my head to the side toward Blake.

  “I’m standing right here, ya know?”

  “Hush. I highly doubt your sensibilities have been hurt. What’s he even here to do?”

  She wouldn’t make eye contact. In fact, she was looking around the yard like her excuse was out in the grass somewhere.

  “Cabinets,” Blake whispered.

  She smiled at me. “Cabinets.”

  I groaned. “Sandra, really?” I gritted my teeth and tried to maintain my composure. “I don’t even know what I want to do in the kitchen right now, let alone what my budget is.”