Incompatibly Yours: Charity Anthology Supporting Fertility Research

by A. C. Bextor

  With her long, unruly, curly blonde hair and those big, bright blue eyes, she coaxed me into talking about anything that came to her young mind. Cartoons, Barbies, her parents; for her, nothing was too small to dissect and debate.

  It wasn't too many years later that I recognized her crush on me for what it was. Over time, our small conversations turned into her telling me her dreams of a future. She'd blush as she endlessly went on about the kind of guy she saw herself marrying. She always described someone just like me. I forced myself not to call her out and make a joke at her expense.

  As she got older, though, it turned out all the jokes were on me.

  I started to see her much differently. The subtle changes she went through started from sweet innocence and quickly fled to unadulterated beauty. It was as if overnight I found myself looking at her too long, concentrating too hard on her laugh, all while knowing full well it was wrong. For all intents and purposes, even as she turned eighteen, Ryleigh was still a kid in my eyes.

  So rather than wage war with my desires, I dismissed her completely. I pushed her away. It hurt to see the reflection of rejection I'd served her, but at the time, I thought it was for the best.

  I was too much older in age, far more experienced in life and relationships, and I was unquestionably not good enough.

  Ryleigh was going places; she was much too big for the only life this small town could offer. Even as I suffered through severing our relationship, I always held on to hope Ryleigh would find a man who adored and cherished her and would live his days to give her everything she deserved.

  Unfortunately, about that same time, she hit my little brother's radar and she did it in a big way. Myles was her age, so the two of them together made sense. But since the day I found out they were going away to the same college and doing it together, as in together, I wanted to come out of my own skin.

  Pulling out a chair, I take a seat next to her. Ryleigh finally acknowledges my presence.

  "Chase," she greets in a small voice. "Hi."

  Nodding at her as I did Kate, I greet, "Ry."

  Kate, being just as dramatic as I always remember her, slaps the tabletop with both hands and stands. "I'm off. I've got things to do this evening."

  "You don't have to…," Ryleigh stutters, giving Kate a pleading scowl. "Are you sure you have to go now?"

  Kate nods once and turns to me. With a knowing but defeated tone, she says, "I have a wedding to plan. Chase, it was good to see you again. Now that our girl's home maybe I'll see more of you."

  Our girl.

  Smooth, Kate.

  Friends always seem to know shit. Just like my best friend Dave knows the forbidden torch I once carried for Ryleigh, Kate must see through my lying disinterest as well.

  "Yeah, you'll see me around. Have a good night and stay out of trouble." The latter goes without saying, but means nothing. Trouble follows Kate.

  "No fun." She pouts then turns to Ryleigh, who's busy studying her phone. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  Ryleigh offers a two-finger wave then sits up in her chair to watch her best friend walk away.

  "So," I start, dismissing the silence and getting the awkward conversation we need to have out in the open. "You and Myles."

  Ryleigh shrugs and tells the table, "Me and Myles." She takes a small drink from her bottle of beer then says, "Looks like me and you are going to be family."

  "That we are," I agree. "Though, I'm wondering…" I stop, wanting to ensure my thought comes across as I mean it to. "Why the rush?"

  She shrugs again, and this time I can see she's uncomfortable. "No rush, really."

  Ryleigh's not met my eyes once, and I ache to see her. "Look at me, Annie."

  Sighing, her gaze comes to mine. She smiles shortly and softly says, "It's been a long time since you've called me that."

  Taken off guard, I reach for understanding. "What?"

  "Annie. No one ever called me that. You used to say it to bug me when I was little," she remembers. "It's been a long time."

  "You've always been Annie to me."

  Her eyes bask in remembered hurt, then narrow. "I remember. Women don't forget the first man who…."

  "Right," I concede after she trails off. I try to keep my tone level while asking, "You're here, so where might my little brother be?"

  "He's out with his friends. I'll see him in the morning."

  I know what "out" means and it's doesn't necessarily mean with his friends. As she and Myles dated in high school, I'd catch him with other girls around town. It never mattered what I'd catch him doing with them, either. He always blew it off, telling me those girls meant nothing and justifying it as if Ryleigh wouldn't care. I wonder if he's up to much of the same tonight.

  "So, you graduated?" I question, hoping for light conversation to keep her talking.

  "You were invited to the ceremony," she replies. "But you didn't come. I thought you would because it was for Myles, too."

  I didn't go. And for obvious reasons. Even after all these years of tolerating the fact she belongs to my brother, I knew watching her graduate and move on with her life would instill further distance, and I didn't want any part of it.

  "I'm sorry. I don't have a good reason."

  Her disappointment is obvious. "I didn't think you'd come anyway, but wanted you to know you were welcome."

  "I heard you're staying with your parents until the wedding," I tell her. "They never change, do they?"

  Truly smiling for the first time, she agrees. "No, they don't. As long as I'm still unmarried and living in Summer's Bay, I'm staying with them."

  "I got Myles," I remind her. "He brought all his shit in yesterday."

  "He told me he'd asked you. I wasn't sure you'd say yes. He can be…."

  "An asshole, but you probably knew that." My voiced feelings for my brother have made her tense.

  Her mouth shuts in a tight line as she picks the label from her beer. "He's not always an asshole," she defends. "He's not to me, anyway."

  Deciding I'd rather not talk about Myles, more so her and Myles together, I throw caution to the wind and ask, "You wanna get out of here?"

  Her eyes grow wide as her lips part. And hell if I don't appreciate the blush that comes next.

  "Out of here with you?"

  "Why not? I brought the truck."

  As she grins wide, I know I've got her. She always loved my truck. "The old red one?"

  "Aged, Ry," I correct her, standing and reaching for her chair. "Don't call my baby girl old. She hates when you make fun of her."

  "Old. Aged. They mean the same," she says. "Besides, she knows I love her."

  "Right."

  Cautiously, she asks, "Can I drive?"

  My eyebrows lift and for a brief moment I don't think she's serious. "You want to drive my truck?"

  "Yes. I'll be good."

  "No," I answer. "My truck, I'll drive."

  Ryleigh humphs, but stands as I take the back of her chair. She reaches for her purse just as the voice of trouble calls.

  "Chase! There you are. I've been looking everywhere." Coming at us fast is the woman I've been dating for the past two months. We're not serious, but we are exclusive.

  She stops at my side to take Ryleigh in. Instantly, her eyes widen in surprise.

  "What's going on?" she asks, worried.

  "Ryleigh Davis, this is Camille. Cam, this is Ryleigh."

  Cam's heard me talk about Ryleigh, but only in the childhood sense. Since she still probably pictured my old friend as a kid, the recognition of Ry's beauty has taken her off guard. She covers her reaction and offers her hand, reluctantly admitting, "I've heard a lot about you."

  My first glance in Ryleigh's direction since Cam appeared tells me more than she thinks it does—she's not unaffected by my choice of company.

  Clearing her throat, Ryleigh accepts her hand and returns, "It's nice to meet you, too." Then, as if giving us an out, she looks up at me and says, "I need to start heading home. If I'm not
back soon, Myles will wonder where I've been."

  No, he won't.

  He doesn't deserve her.

  Son of a bitch.

  "Bummer," Cam whispers, and thankfully Ryleigh misses the sarcastic undertone in which she says it. As Ryleigh starts to walk away, Cam pulls on my arm and questions, "That's Myles's girl?"

  Obviously the rumors of my brother's sexual proclivities aren't lost on anyone here, except the one person to whom it matters most.

  The woman who thinks she loves him.

  Shit.

  Chapter Three

  RYLEIGH

  "Not that one, either," I dryly refuse. "Put it down."

  Kate holds up the nasty bubblegum-pink dress again and studies it with suspicion, scrunching her face in disbelief. Thankfully, though, she accepts my verdict and places it back on the rack.

  Giving me a look of disdain, she replies, "This isn't working. Something's up. Tell me."

  Tell her.

  Tell her I haven't stopped thinking about Chase since the night at the bar, a week ago?

  Tell her I memorized the new tanned crinkles around his eyes, or the softness in them when he called me Annie? Maybe I should tell her how I felt when that woman, Cam, stepped in to stake her claim. Even though I had no business being angry, I still felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

  No. I can't tell her any of that, and it sucks.

  "Nothing's up. Other than I'm not crazy about the color pink. We agreed black for the men and emerald green for the women."

  "Green doesn't work. I'll remind you, your cousin Samantha has purple hair."

  Closing my eyes and tilting my head to the ceiling, I take a breath and wonder how nice it would be to just disappear; get away from a place I once thought so fondly of.

  I've hardly seen Myles since we got back. He's been working with his dad during the day and spending the evenings with his friends doing God only knows what. The small attention he's been paying me is only to complain about our sex life, or lack thereof.

  "I think we're done here," she states. "I don't know what's going on, but you're not into this. I'm the maid of honor, not the wedding planner."

  Kate's lost patience and I don't blame her.

  "Is this about Chase?" she questions, pulling my arm and leading me out the front door of the bridal shop. "You've got exactly three weeks to figure this out."

  "It's not about Chase," I confess.

  And it's really not entirely about him.

  Hitting the humid outside air, I take a breath only to feel suffocated.

  "Then what is it?"

  Again, she's pressing, but I have no desire to share. What I'm feeling isn't all about seeing Chase again. In my time alone waiting up at night for Myles to call when he gets home, I've thought a lot about the reasons I'm marrying him.

  With Myles, I know I'll be taken care of. He's determined to succeed in whatever he does, and this will include two kids, a house in the suburbs, and even as ridiculous as it sounds, a white picket fence to frame them in.

  But what about passion? Excitement? Partnership?

  We don't have this. We never did. Myles doesn't look at me with adoration. He doesn't gaze at me as if I hung the moon and stars, and he certainly doesn't look at me with hunger or desire. He doesn't push me to make myself better. To be fair, Myles isn't only indifferent to me—he's just… there.

  "I want to go home," I tell her. "My mom's making a big dinner to take to Mrs. Jensen's family."

  "I heard she passed away. Sad."

  Turning to her as we stand beside our cars, I give her a pleading yet hopeful look. "We're okay?"

  "We are, but you're not." Grabbing a piece of my long blonde hair, she sighs, twirling it between her fingers, and says, "You'll talk to me when you're ready and I'll be there to listen."

  Reaching out to hug her, I hold her for a moment too long and immediately feel less alone. "Thank you, Kate. I'll call you later."

  Chapter Four

  CHASE

  "Get up, God damn it. You've got shit to do." I nudge Myles as he lies sprawled out facedown on my living room floor. He's passed out from drinking with his friends until all hours of the night.

  When he turns over, he grunts then rubs his left eye and looks up at me with clear irritation. "Jesus Christ, bro. You sound just like Mom."

  No. Not Mom.

  I'm acting like a grown man. I don't bother explaining this, though. It'd be a complete waste of energy.

  Instead I remind him, "Ry's gonna be here in fifteen minutes. It'd be good for her if you got your ass up, showered, and acted like a fiancé instead of a teenage frat boy who just slunk in from a night of partying with his fraternity brothers."

  "Good for her," he mumbles, ignoring my insult. "Always about Ryleigh, isn't it?"

  "Hell yes it is. It's supposed to be all about her. Who taught you to act this way? Don't say Dad, either. That'll piss me off."

  Sitting up, still ignoring my anger, Myles looks around the room. "Did you clean up in here?"

  Christ, but he's an idiot.

  "Yeah, I did. Now get up."

  I hear him grunt as I walk away and into my small kitchen. I'm holding on to my patience, if only by a thread.

  "She's not as fun as she used to be," he tries to explain as he comes stumbling in to stand beside me.

  The coffee brewing on the counter in front of us cannot finish fast enough.

  "She's bitchy," he tells me. Hearing him insult Ryleigh, my hands turn to fists on the counter. "Do weddings make all women as pissy as she is?"

  "No idea," I reply with disinterest. I imagine she's moody because since being back, everyone in this town hasn't missed the obvious change in her disposition.

  I've heard people talk, and what they say is that she looks sad, lost, and alone. I saw it for myself, but it seems it's gotten worse with each day that passes.

  "She doesn't put out worth shit anymore, either. Nothing like she used to, I'll tell you that."

  Jesus Christ, don't share this shit.

  Deciding my hands clenching into fists in front of me isn't enough, I turn to face him. "Would you shut up and go get ready."

  "You're really not right this morning, bro. Cam not putting out either?"

  Feeling the scales of my anger tip, I grab his dirty smelling-like-the-woman-he-was-probably-with-last-night shirt and bunch it tightly in my hands. Then I push until he hits the refrigerator with brutal force.

  "What the hell?" he snaps, finally coming out of his drunken stupor.

  Pushing harder, then letting go before losing control, I answer, "You're an idiot, Myles. You're pissing away the best thing you ever had."

  "How's that?" he returns, his question ridiculous, but clearly he has no idea.

  "Don't bullshit me. You're screwing around all over town. Word spreads and eventually it'll get to Ryleigh. You're screwing all this up."

  "Right," he placates, seemingly not hearing a word I've said.

  "Right," I return.

  After a few seconds of silence pass between us, Myles straightens his shirt and huffs like the spoiled brat he is, "You know what I think?"

  "Can't wait."

  "You're jealous."

  "Yeah, I probably am." Hearing me admit it aloud shocks not only him but me.

  "You still have feelings for her," he accuses. "Don't you?"

  Looking out my kitchen window and leaning my hands against the sink, I don't deny it, but respond calmly with, "It's not about me having any feelings or wanting her for myself, Myles. It's about watching you treat the only woman to ever love you, other than Mom, like she doesn't exist. She's a good girl and you're going to lose her if you don't pull your head out."

  "She is a good girl," he replies, looking out my window as I do. "I guess I'm just restless. Being back here, and now just three weeks until I give up my bachelorhood forever."

  "Cold feet," I supply, hoping that's what it is.

  He exhales and turns to me. "No, I don't know.
I love her, but we've been together for so long. I haven't…."

  "You have. You've never really committed yourself to her, Myles."

  "Kiss my ass," he flips back.

  "You should love her the way she deserves. I'm not sure you'll ever find another girl as good as her. Right now I'd say you're a fool."

  "Coming from the man who's never been in a relationship longer than a week?" he questions, then hisses, "Sound advice, bro. You'll understand if I don't take it to heart. Leave it to me to handle Ryleigh."

  "You're so weak. I've always known it, but listening to your ass now, it's worse. You've gotten worse," I say and then walk away, if only to keep him out of my sight.

  It works, since I don't have to turn around to hear him slamming shit as he walks down the hall and into the bathroom to shower.

  Chapter Five

  RYLEIGH

  "Is there something you're not telling me?" I ask Myles as he stands at my side. His elbows are resting on the metal guardrail in front of us as we look into the crowd of kids.

  The wind is blowing his hair and I remember a time when that endeared him to me in some way. I used to love when he'd let it grow a little too long. Except now, after spending the last week apart, it only reminds me of the person he was when we were kids. And he wasn't always nice.

  Without turning his gaze to mine, he finally answers, "No. Just tired."

  "You're always tired," I needlessly point out.

  Standing straight, he moves his hands to his front pockets and confesses quietly, "Chase said something today. It's still bothering me."

  "What did he say?"

  I hate that Chase isn't here, but somehow he's standing between me and Myles. The distance between us grows as he tells me, "I guess it wasn't exactly what he said, but the way he said it. I think he still has a thing for you."

  I laugh quietly, not because I totally believe his assumption, but that he's concerned about Chase rather than our relationship in general.