by Cora Carmack
“She’s not mine,” I remind her.
“Still applies. Even more so considering you’re her brother. I have a brother. A good brother, but I guarantee he would never take me shopping.”
I want to tell her that I’m not nearly as good as she’s making me out to be. I might be here with Gwen now, but I was pretty damn absent for the first few years of her life. But I’m selfish enough to want her to like me, so that maybe I’ll have an ally in whatever this thing with Kalli is.
Realizing I still haven’t introduced myself to her, I hold out my hand over the counter and say, “Wilder Bell.”
She takes it, giving my hand a surprisingly firm shake before adding, “Lennox Hastings. Does this mean I’ll be seeing you for Christmas?”
“Yeah. I think you will.”
Chapter Eleven
Mom's eyes meet mine from her perch on the couch. It's the first time I've seen her out of scrubs in weeks. Mom had been a nurse for nearly a decade, but she quit a few years back when Dad’s business started flourishing. Or when we thought it had anyway. She went from staying at home to working as many hours as she could pack in practically overnight. Out of scrubs, she wears a red holiday sweater, and it makes the paleness of her cheeks stand out even more. Gwen is on the floor in Dora the Explorer pajamas, tearing through the wrapping paper on her present.
We're doing something new this Christmas. Instead of opening all the presents in the morning, we've been spreading them out throughout the day. Mom and I thought it might make up for the fact that there aren't as many presents under the tree as there used to be.
Last year's Christmas had been even more extravagant than usual. Dad had gone on a crazy buying spree, which had included my SUV that was parked outside in the drive. He bought it outright. We probably should have known then that something was up, but Dad had just convinced us that business was good. We should have questioned how his investment business was flourishing at a time when everyone else in the market seemed to be struggling, but when things are good like that, you don't want to go searching for problems.
Me, especially. Dad wasn't on my back to go to college or get a real job or any of that kind of thing. Then it all went away in the blink of an eye. If the SUV hadn't been in my name, they would have taken that too. I'd tried to give it to Mom after news about Dad had come to light, and the bank had repossessed both their vehicles. But she wouldn't have it. She bought a beat up old Camry from a friend at the hospital, and refused to even think about taking the SUV.
“Your father gave you that,” she told me. “I don't know why he did what he did. Don't know how he could convince himself it wasn't wrong, but we've had enough taken from us. It might relieve a little stress to take that vehicle from you, but it wouldn't do a damn thing for the ache in my heart. The only thing that helps with that is having you back here. Having you and Gwen here makes me feel so full, I don't even notice what else is missing.”
Except it's impossible not to notice what's missing now.
Dad is gone. So is the old house.
No more giant Christmas tree with an abundance of decorations. Instead, we've got one of those fake half-size ones, covered not in expensive ornaments, but just the more personal ones. Things I made in school, a few things by Gwen, some candy canes.
But for all the changes, Gwen doesn't seem to notice as she liberates a doll I recognize from some TV show she loves out of its packaging. I cross from my position against the wall, and take a seat on the couch by Mom. I wrap an arm around her shoulder, and pull her close. She leans all her weight into me, and I choke back the emotion building at the back of my throat.
“Christmas is Christmas,” I tell her. “That hasn't changed. It won't change.”
She reaches up to rest a hand against my cheek. Her fingers brush over my unshaven jaw, and she grips my face and looks at me.
“Thank you, Wilder. I know this hasn't been easy. And I know you've given up so much.” Tears well in her eyes, but she presses on, her hold on my jaw tight. “I'm so sorry for that. I'm really close to being back on my feet, and then you can go back to—”
I cut her off by pulling her into a hug.
“Stop, Mom. I'm happy where I am. It was about time I grew up anyway.”
It's one of my unwritten rules that I'll just keep saying that until it's true. One day it will be.
We pass the day together. Mom bakes cookies. We watch Christmas-themed movies on the small TV that came with the furnished apartment. Gwen starts playing with her toys, and Mom and I both get dragged into an imaginary tea party with a few stuffed Disney characters, a Spiderman figurine that Gwen unearthed from a box of my old toys, and a worn out old baby doll that is less cute and more Chucky.
Around nine that night, Gwen finally passes out with her cheek pressed flat against the carpet and Spiderman in her hand.
“I got her,” I tell Mom, and then bend to scoop her up. She flails sleepily in my arms for a moment, fighting my hold before burying her head in my neck and going slack again.
I walk her down the hallway, and into her small bedroom. I balance her in my arms with one hand, and pull back her covers with the other. I lay her down on her mattress as gently as I can, but she still wakes up, peering up at me with bleary eyes. She whines for a second, as if she can’t decide whether she wants to be awake or asleep.
“Are you gonna see Kalli?” she finally asks.
I stiffen, and then pull her covers up to her neck. I’m still out of practice at the whole brother-ing thing. I probably shouldn’t let her get attached to the idea of seeing Kalli again, but hell, I’m not doing a very good job of keeping myself from that.
I finally settle on honesty. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You said you were. At the dress store.”
“I know. I’m still not sure about some things though.”
“I like her. You should have brought her to our Christmas.”
Gwen’s cheek is imprinted with the texture of the carpet where she’d fallen asleep, and I run a hand over the reddened skin. “You go to sleep,” I tell her. “And be good for Mom.”
She nods, and falls back asleep with an easiness that I envy.
I sigh, turning on the lamp by her bed that she prefers to keep on, and then leave the door cracked just enough so that Mom can see inside.
I’d been doing my best not to think about Kalli today. One, because the way I feel about her after just a few encounters can’t be healthy. I keep telling myself that I don’t know anything about her, and yet my mind always counters with images of her smile or the way she talks to Gwen or the mischievous and almost hopeful look she’d had right before she turned my own showerhead on me.
Maybe I don’t know her. But I wasn’t lying when I told her that I wanted to. There’s only one other thing I’ve ever wanted this bad, and I gave it up for Mom and Gwen. So even though she ran from me, even though she’s been skittish and distant, I’m still going to go for it. You don’t get a shot at a girl like that every day. Hell, I doubted that most people ever got one. There’s just something about her. I can’t put my finger on it. She puts me at ease, like the way you feel around an old friend, as if there’s no need to pretend, no need to worry about how you’re coming off. And yet at the same time, I’m anything but calm around her. She’s too gorgeous. Too perfect for it not to mess with my nerves.
As such, I’m restless when I re-enter the living room.
“You want some hot chocolate?” Mom asks. “I was thinking of making some.”
I hesitate. I’d like to head over to Lennox’s party now, but I don’t know how I feel about leaving Mom alone. Maybe I should stay a little while longer. Until she’s ready to go to sleep. I’m just about to say this when she continues, “Unless you’ve got other plans. With the boys?”
I smile. Ellis Rook and I have been friends since elementary school. We met Owen in high school. He was two years above us, and took us under his wing. We’re all well past grown now. Hell, Rook is a ful
l foot taller than Mom at 6’4”. But she still calls them the boys as if we’re little kids playing video games in the back room.
“Nah,” I tell her. “Owen went on a ski trip, and Rook’s family is in Missouri for the holidays.” It’s an unspoken thought between us that this time last year I probably would have joined Owen, but now every spare penny I have goes to Mom or school. “There’s, uh, this party I was thinking about going to.”
Her lips remain in a smile, but I can see the corners twitch down just for a second.
“Not that kind of party. It’s for some people who weren’t able to go home to see family for the holidays.” God. She’s going to think I’d rather be with the people who can’t see their family, than to actually spend time with my own. “But that’s whatever. I think I’ll stay and hang out with you for a little while.”
“No.” She crosses and pats at my arm. “You go. See your friends. I’ll probably conk out soon.”
“Then I’ll stay until you’re ready to go to bed.”
“Wilder Bell.” I squint down at her, unsure why she’s using the same tone normally reserved for when I cause problems. “You don’t need to babysit me. You’re twenty-three years old. You should get to live your own life. Go to your party.”
I frown, and she pushes at my shoulder, turning me toward the door.
“Go. I’m going to take a bubble bath and relax anyway.”
I hesitate. “You’re sure?”
“Of course, I am. Now, get out of here.”
I grab my leather jacket from where I draped it over the back of the recliner, and shrug it on.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Still don’t need babysitting,” Mom replies.
I smile and plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “All right. Point taken.”
I grab my keys, and when I’m almost out the door, Mom calls for me again. I look back, and she’s at the entrance to the hallway that leads back to her bedroom.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you again. For everything.”
“Right back at you.”
Lennox lives in an apartment just off the highway. It’s not the nicest neighborhood, and I’m a little shocked that she lives here. I hope she doesn’t live here alone, and that Kalli doesn’t visit often. The whole idea of her in this place makes me uneasy.
She lives on the top floor of a three-story building that has definitely seen better days. The stairs creak loudly, and the paint is so chipped that it’s hard to tell what color the building is supposed to be. When I reach her door, I can hear the rumble of noise inside, and I take a deep breath.
There’s every possibility that Kalli won’t be happy seeing me here. I promise myself that this is it. I’ll chase after her tonight, but if she doesn’t give me some indication that she’s as into this as I am, I’ll let it be.
Not too long ago I was on the receiving end of an unwanted pursuit by Bridget. Or hell, maybe it’s not fair to say unwanted. We dated for six months after all. And we were friends long before that.
I should have listened when Rook said not to get involved with her. We were good friends, and I knew she could be a little crazy when it came to guys, but she was never like that with me. She was cool and comfortable and a blast to be around. I thought maybe it would be different with us. We knew each other. We were familiar. And she was exactly what I wanted when the rest of my life was in upheaval and nothing felt familiar or comfortable or right.
She wouldn’t go all clingy with me. There wouldn’t be any need. We trusted each other. Or so I thought.
We had one good month, and then shit started to go sour. She couldn’t get past all the time I now have to spend on work and class and homework. Most of the time, she seemed to think I was lying. We had two just okay months followed by three miserable ones. All because I didn’t know how to end it. I kept thinking I could get the old Bridget back. That eventually she would settle down and realize she didn’t have to spend every moment of the day with me, and she didn’t have to hate every single girl I talked to, and she didn’t have to be the center of my every waking thought.
Eight months ago, I finally pulled my head out of my ass and ended it. And every time I hung out with our group of friends since (Bridget included), I alternated between feeling guilty for how hurt she was and pissed that she’d had to be so different just because we were sleeping together. Then there was the annoyance at her continued bouts of clinginess and jealousy despite our break-up. And it all finally gave way to exhaustion because I couldn’t even relax with my friends anymore.
These days it seemed like I couldn’t relax anywhere. There were too many things to do, to take care of. Too many things to be that took work and perseverance and effort.
That night I’d seen Kalli down on Sixth Street, I’d been faking my way through a night out with friends that wasn’t the least bit fun. That’s why I thought Kalli was a hallucination. I’d been standing there on the street while my friends decided which bar to hit up next with Bridget inching closer to my side when Kalli had caught my eye after days of being on my mind. And then she wasn’t just my mental sanctuary, but physical too.
She’d cleared my head of everything else with her mystery. She just wiped it all clean. And then she filled up all that empty space with thoughts of her, memories, possibilities.
Shit. I shake my head, realizing that I’m still standing on Lennox’s porch, and I haven’t even knocked yet. I rectify that, and then stand with my hands in my jacket pockets while I wait for someone to answer the door. It must be too loud because no one answers, and I have to knock again.
I’m trying to decide whether it’s weird to just walk inside or if I should give up and leave when the door is ripped backward, revealing Lennox on the other side. Her hair has been dyed a vivid scarlet since I saw her, and she clings to the door like she might not be able to stay standing without it.
“You came!”
I smile in response, not only to be polite, but because she’s obviously drunk. A happy drunk too, if the way she topples into me for a hug is any indication.
“I’m so glad,” she continues. “Kalli is being all anti-social, and no matter how many times I threaten her, she won’t loosen up.”
She pulls me over the threshold as I ask, “So you want me to threaten her?”
“I want you to dazzle her into having a good time.”
“Dazzle? How much have you had to drink?”
She waves a hand, gesturing toward my face. “Come on. You’re a dazzler. With those eyes and that hair. You have distinct dazzability.”
“I’m going to guess the answer to my question is ‘too much.’”
“You say too much. I say just enough.”
She leads me out of the entry way into the living room, and I barely keep my jaw from dropping. The outside of her apartment might be less than impressive, but the inside … it’s incredible. Every inch of space is packed with interesting furniture and artwork and unusual decorations.
She has a mural painted along one wall that at first glance looks like a sort of abstract cityscape, but when I look again I can see that what appears as buildings are also people. Different shapes and sizes, shadowed so that they’re more silhouettes than realistic portrayals. Even though they’re mostly dark, there’s a surprising amount of emotion painted into them. Their eyes are lit up like building windows, and through that single detail I can see that some figures are sad, some angry, some afraid. I stare at the painted wall for a long time, trying to figure out exactly how the artist accomplished so much with so little.
“You’ve got another fan, Avery,” Lennox says.
I turn toward her, and she gestures to a girl sitting on the couch, a bottle of beer clutched between two small hands. She’s got that same kind of hipster vibe as Lennox, only the wide-rimmed glasses feel more genuine on her. She sinks farther into the couch in response to my gaze. She’s not who I would have pictured for the mural artist. She seems shy and unsure, and I c
an’t understand why. She’s clearly got talent. She’s also very pretty. Her hair is short and straight, but it’s this pale blonde that catches and reflects the light.
“It’s incredible,” I tell her, and I look back at the work. I could probably stand in front of it all day, and continue to notice new things, subtle brilliance. “Really, it’s amazing.”
She pushes at her glasses even though they’ve not slid down her nose and says quietly, “Thank you.”
“Okay then,” Lennox begins. “So you’ve met my roommate Avery. The hottie beside her is my boyfriend Mick.” I try not to blink too much in surprise. I would expect a boyfriend of Lennox’s to have the same kind of artistic vibe, but this guy looks straight country, right down to the worn out old boots. I try to keep up while she introduces the rest of the people in the room to me. Kim and Krista (sisters). Dan and Eric (preppy boy next door types). Jack (another hipster with prettier hair than most girls I’ve seen). Then she starts to move fast enough that I lose track of which name belongs with which person, but somewhere on right side of the room are an Olivia, a Morie, and a Jane. Some are direct friends of Lennox. Others she introduces as friends of friends that needed a place to chill on the holiday. And overall, the group is undeniably eclectic. But they’re all at ease as they sit around the living room chatting. Though that could have something to do with the immense amounts of alcohol bottles and cans and glasses littered across the coffee table and bookshelves and every other flat surface.
After the official introductions, Lennox leans close to give me some more specifics, and that’s when I realize what really connects them all. “Avery is a painter, obviously. Though some days, I swear I have to convince her to believe it. Jack too. I’ve known him since freshman year, and met Avery through him. Mick does wood and metal work. He’s built a lot of the furniture in the room. Kim and Krista are in the fashion design program with me.” By the time she’s finished, it’s evident that everyone in the room has some kind of artistic talent, and I understand now how all these different people could fit together.
