Love Is
Relative
A Novel
Haven Francis
Love Is Relative
Haven Francis
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2013 by Haven Francis
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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Table of Contents
Prologue - The First Kiss
Part One
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Emily
Danny
Part Two
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Part Three
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Danny
Emily
Emily
Emily
Danny
Emily
The End
Prologue
The First Kiss
I hold onto Emily as if my life depends on it. I can’t seem to shake this feeling of urgency that’s been taking over my mind and body the past couple of days. She doesn’t seem to mind the way I cling to her. The way I won’t let her out of my sight. It makes me wonder if it’s okay to feel the way I do about her. It makes me wonder if she feels the same way. These things, these questions, that have been on my mind the past few months are suddenly all I care about.
Can Emily be more than my friend? Does she love me the same way that I love her?
I look down at her face that is so familiar yet looks so different to me now. She is the same girl that has been my neighbor, my best friend, for my entire life and yet I never seemed to realize how beautiful this face is. I brush my fingers across the smooth skin on her cheek and her eyes flutter open. She gives me a lazy smile as if she had forgotten she was lying in my arms. “I think I fell asleep for a minute,” she whispers.
“Sleep if you need too, there’s nothing we have to do,” I tell her as my hand moves down her neck and into her hair.
“I was dreaming of you,” she says. Her eye lids are heavy, her hand moves to my bare chest.
“What was I doing?”
“We were here, at the river.” She pauses as if that’s all she has to say.
“Let me guess, you finally out-backstroked me to the Willow tree?”
“No,” she says, looking into my eyes, making me nervous. “You kissed me.”
“Yea?” I ask surprised… hopeful.
“Yea. It was nice.”
My hand moves back up her neck, my thumb brushes over her full lips that I have dreamt about kissing every damn night since April. I stare at her mouth, her parted lips, before lowering myself to her. I let my lips feel hers, rest on them. Her breath seeps into my mouth and I think about how incredible that feels before I take her lips in mine.
I kiss her slowly, taking in every unbelievable sensation that I feel. She kisses back with her warm, soft, fat lips. I savor the feel of her lips completely before letting my tongue taste them. As soon as that happens I can’t move slowly anymore. She tastes good and she likes my tongue on her lips, in her mouth; her fingers pull at my skin, her tongue enters my mouth and I feel like I’m about to fall apart. It all feels so much better than my half-assed imagination lead me to believe it would.
I want to kiss her, I want to keep kissing her forever, but I have to tell her something. I pull out of her mouth and she grasps me tighter. I’m breathing too heavily and having trouble forming my words as I look at her desperate, feral eyes. “I love you, Emily.” I need her to know this more than I need to touch her right now. I need her to know that I’m in love with her.
Her expression shifts into confusion or amusement or some combination of both. “I know that, Danny. I love you too.” She leans into me, ready to end this conversation, but I need to make sure she understands.
“Not like a friend, Em. Not like I always have. I love you as in I need you, I want you. I need you to be mine.”
“Like your girlfriend?” She lets out a laugh.
“Yes. Like that.”
“Okay,” she tells me.
“Does that freak you out? I mean, do you think we’ll be okay, if we’re not just friends?”
“Who would we love if not each other? Isn’t this where we were always headed? Can you stop talking now and kiss me?”
I smile at her, this perfect girl that I’ve always loved. She’s right; it’s always been us. Who would we be if not each others? I do what she says and kiss her again. Emily. My girlfriend. The girl that I love. The girl that loves me back.
Part One
The New Beginning
Emily
“Are you coming to class?” Willow asks as she peeks into my dormitory room
“Not today,” I tell her, trying to sound cordial.
“You realize you’re going to end up on kitchen duty for a month if you keep this up,” she informs me.
“Does it really matter what menial task I’m performing?” I sound depressed, which I am. I am completely and utterly depressed.
“Kitchen duty is the worst of them.”
And this is true. Cleaning dirty dishes in a humid, stinky kitchen when the weather in this God forsaken place is never anything but a sunny ninety degrees is the most vomit-inducing job around, but truly, they all suck. And anyways, I’m not planning on being around for dinner. When I don’t respond Willow gives up. “Okay, well I’m going to class.” When I remain silent she walks away.
Here at the beautiful Arcadia compound, Willow is the closest thing I have to a friend, which isn’t saying much. She likes me about as much as anyone can. I’ve been here for almost three years and I’m still as angry and bitter as I was the first day Mom brought me through the rusty gates. People here must think I’m a complete asshole. Which I’m not. At lest I didn’t used to be. Not when I was me, at home with Grandma and Grandpa and with Danny.
I try not to bitch or complain but considering the circumstances that brought me to this place, I can’t find a reason to be happy. Even though I’ve had plenty of time to accept my cruel fate the truth is I remember everything about Danny as if I still spent every day with him. I’m having trouble getting over it to say the lest.
This place dosen’t help any. Even if I had showed up here at my best, I would have still turned out the way I am today.
I live in a commune. I have a hard time even thinking the word. It sounds the same as prison, which it pretty much is except the propaganda that Luna our “brother” fills us with is supposed to trick us into believing we are in some kind of utopia. I never understood it and I still don’t but my mom, Charlie, thinks it’s some form of freedom. She goes by the name Celeste now. It’s one of the first things you do when you get here; sit in a sweat lodge until the spirits give you your name. I refused to do it but everyone still refers to
me as Star, the glorious name my mother bestowed upon me after her own near-death sweat lodge experience.
I don’t fit in here. You would have to be crazy in order to do that and at the moment I feel about one slippery step away from crazy. So I’m getting out of here before I start believing that Star is an acceptable name.
I've stuck around for almost three years because I worry about my mother. I have some stupid need to be here for her, but clearly she dosen’t feel the same way. She ran off with the newest member of the commune ten days ago and hasn't returned. And here I am going to class (meditation, general worshiping of Luna and harvesting of the archers of vegetables that we live off of), being forced to eat nothing but said vegetables (while my mother is surely at McDonalds as we speak), working my ass off (scrubbing floors, picking weeds, teaching little kids about the absurd ways of this absurd life) and living in a ten foot by ten foot room with a communal bathroom (while my mother, although she is not here, lives in one of the larger houses with other single ladies who are at Luna’s disposal).
This is not the first time she’s abandoned me here, coming home weeks later without the new love of her life and without any explanation or apology. I have no idea how my homespun, down-to-earth, loving grandparents raised such a flake, but if I stay here there’s a good chance I’ll end up just as bad as she is. And clearly she doesn't need me or even want me. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to figure this out.
I guess I've known all along but I was afraid of my other option for a life which would mean going back home. Going home to the grandparents who love me and raised me. Going home to the farm where I can be free to do what I want. Going home to the fresh air that doesn't reek of patchouli. Going home to the river and my room and my grandma’s meatloaf and my grandpa’s smiling face.
But also going home to the absolute disaster that my mother left behind. The disaster that is literally me.
I watch the clock on the wall until it says two-fifteen. By now almost everyone will be in class and it’s my best chance to escape. And that’s not an exaggeration, I will literally have to escape this hell hole. I have a plan though and, honestly, everyone here is high on some substance and I don’t think it will be a huge effort. I have the keys to one of the many cars and vans that the commune has. For what reason? I don’t know, since no one ever seems to leave this place, except for my mother. I snatched the key during lunch, searching for the most inconspicuous tag I could find. After lunch I took a stroll through the lot and found the car. Now all I have to do is get to it and then through the gate, which will be my only obstacle. The gate is generally left unattended but also locked. I found the code when I was cleaning the office but I haven’t had a chance to try it out. If it doesn't work I’m just gonna scale the fence and run for my life.
Danny
I stare at Maddie, at her sweet face that always looks about three years younger when she’s asleep. It’s because sleep is the only time she doesn't worry. Right now she looks like the three-year-old that clung happily to the center of her world – her mother. But in reality she’s a six-year-old who knows something’s missing and carries a permanent expression on her face as if she’s pondering what that might be. I lean down and kiss her soft hair before turning off her light.
I cross the hall to Jason’s room where he is wide awake reading a book about Big Sur. “Shut it down,” I tell him.
“But I’m almost done,” he protests. I narrow my eyes at him and he concedes, too easily if you ask me. “Okay, fine,” he says, closing the book and putting it on his bedside table.
I should give him more rope. It bothers me that he never fights for what he wants but I guess that’s better than fighting for everything, even the things you don’t really want. I was a pain in my parent’s asses at thirteen. I guess I should just be grateful my siblings are so easy-going. I wouldn't know what to do with them if they weren't. I’m no good at this parenting gig, probably because I’m not a parent. But they've only got one of those left and he’s not worth a shit.
“Set your alarm for seven. I’ll bring you to the shop with me in the morning.”
“Awesome,” he says like it’s the best news he’s gotten all week and, sadly, it probably is. I wait until he’s got his alarm set, then I shut off his light and harden myself to go deal with my father.
I walk down the stairs, looking over the banister into the open living space that is still filled with pictures of us when we were a family. The giant stone fireplace that reaches from the floor to the top of the trussed ceiling displays the last family photo we took. The five of us collide into a gigantic family embrace in front of our barn, turned mini-mansion. That picture represents the last good moment of the Donovan family; after the separation but before my mom’s death.
She’s only been gone for six months. Seems like a lifetime ago, everything has changed in those six months, yet I still feel like she could walk out of the kitchen at any moment. When I think about it I almost feel sorry for the sack of shit who is passed out on the sofa. But then I remember what he did to her and how he is failing her children now. Why can’t he get his shit together?
I walk over to him and sling his arm over my shoulder before pulling him off the couch. Each time I do this he seems a little lighter than the time before and I wonder how long it will be before he withers away completely. When I was Jason’s age I thought my dad was a giant. His body was broad and strong from the construction business he built from the ground up. Only last year did I surpass him in height and only by a small margin which makes him at least six-foot one. You wouldn't know it looking at him slumped over, passed out in my arm. I drag his sorry ass down the long hallway and into the guest bedroom where I throw him into bed, admittedly too hard, then pull the comforter over his fully dressed body.
Back in the living room I switch off the TV and grab the pile of empty beer bottles, taking them to the kitchen and throwing them in the recycling bin. As I walk out the back door I feel the familiar pinch of guilt because I’m not upstairs with Jason and Maddie. But what the fuck? I’m nineteen, I’m not even supposed to be in that house. I should be living with the guys, enjoying my last summer before heading off to college. But that’s not an option anymore. I’m never getting out of this small, southern Minnesota town. Not now.
It’s funny how bad I want out, considering I spent the first sixteen years of my life planning my whole future here, with Emily. Em had always been my whole life. I started telling my mom I was going to marry her when I was five-years-old. That last summer though, she changed. Everything changed.
She was always beautiful to me, not just to me but to everyone, but her beauty was approachable. She never cared about her hair or clothes, she had a wicked sense of humor and a reckless side, she was just like one of the guys; she was perfect. None of that changed but that first warm day of spring when we decided to brave the still-freezing waters of the Mississippi that ran through both of our back yards, she took off her jeans and t-shirt and I was instantly thinking of her in all the wrong ways. The girl had grown a smoking hot body over the past year. She still had her athletic build: long, thin legs, sculpted arms, tight stomach. But now her ass was full and firm, there was a slight curve to her hips and she no longer fit into her bikini top from the previous summer, not even close.
I always loved the girl, I loved everything about her, but now I wanted her bad. I spent the entire summer trying to keep my hands off her because I was still good then. There was no reason to be anything but good. I took to fantasizing about the things I would do to her if she wasn’t my best friend.
Not only did I fantasize about her body but I fantasized about our future. Like a little girl, I thought about marrying her and building us a house on the river between her grandparents’ and my parents’. I dreamt about what kind of mother she would be to our kids. I was a hundred different kinds of pathetic.
I still am, I think, as I look at the bottle of Jack nestled in my hand. My sorry life is such a rout
ine now that I can make it back to my cabin, open the cabinet, take out my Jack and have it one quarter gone without even realizing it. I hate it when I do this – start thinking about Emily. It’s my worst fucking habit. More so, even, than the liquor and the girls. And, although I realize this, I can’t shake my last good memory of us. The one and only time I kissed her.
The tension had been growing between us all summer. My body felt like it was flaming if I slung and arm around her or wrapped her fingers up in mine. One night I finally said fuck the friendship and kissed her, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had kissed a few girls before but this was not any ordinary kiss. I can still feel her fat bottom lip in mine, I can taste the sweetness of her skin, I can feel her breath in my mouth and the way her tongue wrapped so perfectly around mine. It was a kiss that I felt through every damn fiber of my body. That kiss is better than anything I’ve ever felt. I’m still chasing that feeling, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself. I’ve kissed countless girls since then, I’ve slept with just as many, but nothing’s ever come close to that kiss.
The very next day was Apple Fest; the end of summer, the beginning of fall. It was the day her high, stupid-ass mother announced to the entire town that my dad was the father of her child. It was the day that my entire life fell apart. It was the day Emily became my half, fucking, sister. I stand and start pacing the room attempting to get that memory out of my head. But I can’t shake the look on Emily’s face as our eyes locked. The shock, the humiliation, the sadness.
They left the next day, Emily and Charlie. I never talked to her again. They started a storm that destroyed my family and then high-tailed it the hell out of here. For a few days, before I fully grasped what the two of them had done to us, I was more devastated that Emily was gone than I was by the fact that my dad had effectively tore my family apart.
My mom left with Maddie and Jason and moved back to her parent’s house in the city. I stayed behind. I told my mom I needed to get back to school and look after Dad but the truth was that I wanted to be here when Emily got back. By the time I came to my senses, I realized my dad really did need me. The clean cut guy I had always known as my father was turning into a raging alcoholic.
Love Is Relative Page 1
