KISMET

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “Careful.” He takes my hand and places it on top of the pillow.

  “Stop touching me.” The devil resting on my shoulder is bitch slapping me for that demand.

  “She’s up,” my aunt hollers, and my mom rushes in from the kitchen.

  “You okay, baby?” She’s next to me fussing with my hair, and her eyes roaming every inch of me.

  I look down and take in the damage. My entire left hand is wrapped like a mummy; no peek of skin and it’s as big as a boxing glove. I could have knocked the shit out of him without balling up my fist. Score. I’ll try it again when nobody is looking. “How many fingers did I lose?” This looks serious.

  Clarice giggles, Brody laughs, and my mom frowns. “None, honey. You sliced it deep, but Brody was able to close it with what your aunt had in the house. Do you want me to take you to the hospital and see if it needs stitches?”

  “Natalie, the boy told you it’d be fine. Quit fussing.” I screw my mouth up and shoot my overly concerned aunt a look. She smirks back at me and clears her throat. “Don’t you want to tell Brody thank you?”

  No. No, I don’t. I’d rather walk on hot coals while taking a path to hell engulfed in flames and covered in gasoline at the same time than thank that fucker for anything. Instead I smile, turn to him, and do my best to shoot lasers from my eyes. That’s a superhero power I want. “Thank you, Brody.” This is the reason why people ask ‘was that so hard?’ when forcing children to apologize. Because yes. Yes it was.

  Jutting his chin, he leans back with superiority. “You’re welcome. Keep it elevated. Your aunt crushed up a narcotic, and we were able to place some under your tongue. If you need more let someone know.”

  I have ammo to blackmail her. I’ll make her back off her blatant interference when it comes to Brody and me. “Isn’t that illegal? Sharing prescription pills,” I challenge her.

  “Emberlee, if that’s what I’m gonna go down for . . . bring it. It’s a misdemeanor and considering all the shit I’ve pulled I should have racked up some felonies by now.” Game. Set. Match. That woman put me in my place. “But if it bothers you that much, I’ve got some Tylenol for you.” She’s good. Better than I gave her credit for. She brings her hand up to scratch her cheek, with her middle finger waving at me. That’s why she’s my favorite aunt. My only aunt but definitely my favorite.

  Hmmm. If I take a few pills, I’ll pass out and be left alone. My finger does hurt. I think. It’s all sort of numb with the nine hundred rolls of gauze surrounding it.

  “Fine young man with many talents. We’ll hate to lose you next month.” My dad’s booming voice startles me.

  “Leave him alone, Gerald,” my aunt admonishes. “Not every one is cut out for a life in the Air Force.” Wait. He’s being discharged next month. I do some calculations and realize he’s served his four years.

  Brody chuckles. “Yes sir. I’ll miss it, but it wasn’t ever a career for me. It was a way to get money for college, serve my country, and help my family.” I knew this. We spent every spare moment before he deflowered me talking. Sharing information. I don’t think there was anything I didn’t know. Oh, except the pesky detail of a goddamn fiancé. That was one fact he didn’t share.

  “How’s Brecklynn?” I ask. My mom’s head whips to face me, and my aunt chokes on her laughter. I regret running to her that year. Shameless hussy. “What?” I question my mom’s incredulous look.

  “How do you know he has a sister?”

  Rolling my eyes, I remind her. “He was pretty much a homeless refugee at our house at one time.”

  “Emberlee Abigail Winchester!” My dad’s chiding bite doesn’t surprise me.

  Brody puts his hands up. “It’s fine, Sir. She didn’t mean anything by it. Honestly, I was lost at that time and took a lot of yours.”

  “Nonsense. I was glad to have you.” Of fucking course he was. Anyone other than me. I think he’d resurrect Joseph Stalin and dine with him rather than share space with me. Unbelievable.

  My aunt catches my attention making faces behind my dad’s back, and I don’t try to contain my laughter. I’m either bat shit crazy or the shit they forced in my system needs to be added to my daily nutritional consumption list. I have zero fucks to give at this time.

  My mom clears her throat as my father turns an unusual shade of red. Maybe Aunt Clarice should share her drugs with him. “So what are your plans after you leave the Air Force?”

  His eyes pierce mine. “I’ll be a Shocker come spring term.” I gag. On air. Because every bit of saliva I could have produced dries up. His dimpled smile informs me he knows how I feel. “Brecklynn got accepted for freshman year. She’ll start next year, fall term. I had a few credit hours, and if I take summer classes, I’ll be a sophomore next year.” His cheeks tinge, and his voice gets low. “It’s a bit odd being a college kid at twenty-two.”

  “That’s terrific, Brody.” My mom tries to ease his uncomfortable demeanor. I’m still stuck pondering the declaration he’s sharing a college campus with me.

  “I think I’ll look into becoming a transfer student. I’ve always dreamed of studying abroad,” I murmur under my breath.

  “What, dear?” Aunt Clarice needs to take up a hobby. Like drinking. Or snare drums. Something to impair her hearing.

  “Nothing. I was looking at foreign study courses. I think it’d be fun to study abroad for a year.” Or ten.

  “No way in hell, Emberlee.” I’m shocked by the protectiveness in my dad’s voice. “It’d be a nightmare. I’m a four-star general and the protection detail you’d need is a lot of red tape. It’s a headache, and I’m not dealing with it.” Just like that my swell of pride deflates. It’s just an inconvenience to him . . . not a matter of caring.

  “Gerald, if she’s serious and wants to look into it, we can see what it entails.”

  “Natalie, no. It’s not up for discussion.” Today, tomorrow, last week, next week . . . I’d welcome living in hostile territory over spending another moment of my vacation with this cold-hearted bastard.

  “Aunt Clarice can I have a pill so I can go to bed? I’m starting to hurt a bit.”

  “Is that smart?” My dad glances at my mom. “We don’t need a pill popper for a kid.” I’ve reached my limit.

  “Hell, you don’t need a kid at all.” It isn’t as if he’s ever treated me like one. I’m to be seen, not heard. I’m like an ornate decoration he can show off when it’s deemed appropriate by him.

  “Emberlee, don’t sass me.”

  I salute him like his subordinates do. Except I use my middle finger. “Deuces, Gerald. I’m going to bed.” His face turns rubicund, but I’m out of here. I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night and hitchhike the hour back home. Zero. Fucks.

  My aunt gives me a sly high five as I walk past her, and Brody starts coughing— I’m sure to cover his laughter. Birds of a feather and all that shit.

  A soft knock at my door interrupts my staring at the ceiling. Trying to count all those popcorn balls makes your vision blurry, and they can morph into some pretty cool animals. “You asleep?” My mom.

  “No. Playing Animal Farm.” I deadpan.

  She sits on the edge of the twin bed my aunt’s had as long as I’ve been coming here. I know she has money; she could upgrade for my comfort. Alas, she reminds me often guests are like fish— they begin smelling after three days. Clarice is nothing if not a loner by nature. “Emberlee, you’ve got to quit giving your dad a hard time.” I sigh. Same ole’ song and dance.

  “If I remember correctly he insinuated I was a bother. I don’t know why you defend him to me.”

  “Because I love you both.” Her hands absently rub her chest. For the millionth time I remind myself she does love us both. And I love them both. The missing equation is my dad’s love for me. I hate that she gets caught in the middle, but apart from me walking on water or parting the Red Sea, I don’t know what it’ll take to make him tolerate me. Miracles like that don’t happen around here.

>   “I know, Mom. I know. But a girl can only take so much.” My voice, like my body, is listless. I’m so tired of fighting this fight. It doesn’t involve give and take. It’s me giving him leeway out of respect— out of love. It’s him taking my feelings and adoration and tossing it aside. Time and time again. Like fucking Groundhog Day movie on repeat. Same shit different day. “Why does he hate me?” I hate the childlike sound of my voice, the approval I seek reeks of desperation.

  “He doesn’t hate you, baby. He loves you.” I snort in disbelief. His love sucks ass, and it sure as shit doesn’t make me warm and fuzzy. “He does, Emberlee. He doesn’t know how to deal with not controlling situations, and you’ve always been the unknown to him.”

  “He does fine with you.” And he does. He dotes on my mom. They don’t bicker a lot; he’s respectful, doting, and I don’t get where I went wrong. “It would have been easier if I had a schlong. He could have sent me off to military school, forcing me to join the service. I wouldn’t have ruined his orderly life.”

  “Listen to me. Don’t say that. He loves you, and you didn’t ruin anything. You’re the most important thing to your father and I, and I’m sorry I can’t make you see that.”

  “I’m sorry too, Mom. But you’re wrong. You can’t force me to accept something that just isn’t. It’s like standing me in front of a mirror and telling me I’m six foot, long blonde hair, and a runway model. An illusion isn’t fact.”

  Her sigh of defeat hits me in the gut. Every time my dad and I have an episode, she’s like a tennis ball. Being served back and forth. It beats her down.

  “Goodnight, honey. Oh, Aunt Clarice said her keys are in the drawer and not to hitchhike. I’ll handle your dad.” I grin. Those two women know me and enable me. “And it isn’t a schlong. It’s a penis. We’ve discussed the terminology I find acceptable.”

  I snicker. “You should hear Avery.”

  Her laugh settles my anxiety. “I was young once and us women could put most men to shame when we got on a bender.”

  I gasp in mock astonishment. “Mom. You never. Until you met dad you were thinking of joining the convent. At least that’s what you told me when I asked to go on birth control.” Hell, anyone who sees all the moms together knows they were wild in the day. I’m not so sure their committee planning doesn’t involve partaking in contraband. They come home cheery and relaxed.

  Her lips touch my forehead. “Love you, baby. Try to rest before you haul ass. I can only handle one injury per day.” She stands to leave but turns at the last minute. “Brody handled the situation like a champ, which is surprising.”

  “Why? He’s trained for that kind of stuff.”

  “Because he loves you, and when the one you love is hurt, training flies out the window. Hell, I’ve seen my share of blood and I froze.”

  “You need therapy because your idea of love is skewed. Those fairytales you told me aren’t anything like I’m experiencing with the men in this house.” I don’t bother to deny Brody and I. If she were fishing, she’d be more sly— she’s confirming what she knows.

  “That was before evolution and schlongs played a major role in a man’s way of thinking. Now, it’s up to us to take the bull by the horn, or whatever you deduce that to and make our own fairytale. Personally, I don’t much like the dresses those princesses wear. Kansas heat and those petticoats would be awful.”

  “Mom, you’re weird. Did Aunt Clarice give you a pill?”

  “No, brat. I’m just telling you, don’t let fear of the unknown or mistakes of the past hold you back.”

  “Oh, it isn’t unknown. I know what he has to offer, and I’m not buying.”

  “Okay. Famous last words.” The clicking of the door ends the conversation. There wasn’t a need for it to continue. Narcotics aren’t for the weak; I share too much when I’m stoned. I’m like a PSA for an anti-drug campaign. I’d make a terrible servicewoman. Give the girl some Percocet and she sings like a canary. They’d have all the state secrets.

  Flipping to my side so I don’t try to find the grizzly bear hiding on the ceiling, I close my eyes and question why I slept with him. I hoped it would clarify or give me closure. I wanted to treat it like sex and nothing else. He was able to do that, so I wanted a turn. I’m a tit for tat kind of girl.

  Things were so simple before Adriane and Deacon had a baby. What I’d give to go back to those days. Sure, Adriane’s always been a wild card, she isn’t a ride or die friend like the rest of us, but it was our normal. Mason and I weren’t fucking, Caden wasn’t as observant, Avery — well she’s still the same. Deacon would have time for us and without Saylor there wouldn’t be a need to separate the group. While I like the girl, I don’t need or want any more change in my life. I’ve had enough uncertainties. I drift off, fantasizing how things would be if it was our core six again . . . and it hits me.

  I can fix this.

  I can make Adriane come back, and all things will return to normal.

  I’ll forget Brody because he wasn’t a part of our crew.

  We’ll all have each other again with no divisions.

  I’m going to create a time machine. It’s simple. I’ll send an S.O.S. to Adriane and let her do what she does best . . . blow shit up. I know there are some hurt feelings there, but it’ll all work in the end. It always does.

  I’m too wound up to sleep, and it’s an hour drive, I’ll be fine. I don’t go back to the house I share with Avery and Saylor. I go home. To the comfort of my parents’ house where my childhood memories can give me some guidance with how to proceed and execute my plan.

  Digging into the box of mementos my mom keeps atop her closet shelf, I’m gonna borrow some pictures. Make us collages and highlight the good memories— all of us together. We’re a unit, dammit.

  I didn’t count on a letter.

  I didn’t expect words written on a sheet of paper to upturn my life.

  I didn’t expect to understand why my dad hated me— I secretly held out hope it wasn’t true.

  But it was all clear. And there was no fixing it.

  In that instant my life, my beliefs in people are reversed.

  And it’s my turn to blow some shit up. I’ve planted the seeds of doubt in Saylor’s mind already. She’s afraid to let go and fall. I’m sure they got cozy this weekend at Deacon’s parents, but family sticks together . . . and according to this letter my family may have gotten larger. Instead of an honorary aunt— I could possibly be a biological aunt to Julie, and I’ll be damned if I let her grow up wondering why her mother doesn’t want her. No fucking way.

  Step One— get Adriane home and knock some sense into her. Make her see the light before it’s too late.

  The last twenty-four hours fucked me over. I let her disarm me with seduction. I’m trained in Security Forces for fuck’s sake, and she had one hell of a sneak attack . . . one I didn’t prepare for.

  I should have forced her to listen.

  I should have moved from her grip.

  I should have never run like a coward three years ago.

  I can replay my intentions, play devil’s advocate, list each pro and con. Bottom line, I hurt her.

  In turn, she annihilated me.

  If that wasn’t enough . . . her fucking blood all over the kitchen, her knees buckling, eyes fluttering. She fainted, and I had to step in to help. My heart stopped— and when it started, it was pounding at an unhealthy rate. Terror. I felt stark terror in that instant. Her mom froze, Clarice was dabbing it with a paper towel, and her own fucking father took his sweet time getting up from the recliner as his wife screamed for him in panic.

  That knife didn’t create a superficial wound, and I was damn lucky there were steri-strips in that first aid kit. Stitches would have been better, but I wasn’t willing to let go of her long enough to load her in the car. Factor in the Emergency Room and the rules they have regarding family only while in triage. That would have been a SNAFU to try and explain. I’m sorry, General Winchester; I took your da
ughter’s virginity three years ago and had a repeat performance while you were sipping wine outside with your wife and sister. I’m freaking the hell out seeing her blood pooling, and I’ll be damned if someone is going to suture her up without my instruction. I went with option two— do the shit myself.

  She’s an adult now. I have less than four weeks left of duty in the Air Force. Her dad wouldn’t have an issue with me dating her, but it isn’t his approval I want.

  It’s hers.

  Her forgiveness.

  Her heart.

  Her future.

  And for her to fucking listen to me so we can begin sooner rather than later. I should just get her a t-shirt with a jackass because she’s as stubborn as a donkey.

  I pause outside her door and hear voices murmuring. One is getting closer, and I realize she’s talking to her mom. Apparently my girl is leaving tonight. Part of me wants to get comfy in the backseat and surprise her, but I don’t think that’s the smart move. If I remember correctly— she doesn’t pay attention to her surroundings, and she’s likely to drive us into a ditch. I can’t spring the fact she’s stuck with me on her. She needs finesse. To be eased into my plan. Her destiny.

  Integrity first. A rule instilled in me the last four years and one I won’t abandon. Control my impulses and accept accountability. I admit I fucked up with her, but I’ll make it right. I didn’t show courage during that time, but I will now.

  Courage to know we’re destined for each other.

  Courage to pursue her when she claims she doesn’t want me.

  Courage to put her first and protect her at all costs— even from herself. Glimpsing what I have in the past twenty-four hours, that’s gonna be a full-time job.

  I head to bed and resign myself to the fact that I won’t see her for a few days. She made the first move in this game and ensured I’d chase her. What she fails to realize is I’m pretty good at endurance. Stamina. I’m a damn fine sprinter, so whenever she’s ready to cross the finish line— I’ll be right next to her.