Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  “You’ve crossed the line, Lucy Lou. You are not bedazzling me,” I call out over my shoulder with a laugh.

  I join my mom at the kitchen sink and watch as she scrubs the dinner dishes. Her shoulders shake in laughter, and her lips curve into a grin.

  “Come on now, West. You know it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been bedazzled. That little girl has got you wrapped around her finger.”

  I don’t even attempt to argue, because she’s absolutely right. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Lucy … for my family.

  I look over at my mom’s sweet smile and tired, but content, eyes and feel the familiar squeeze deep in my chest. It’s good to see the smile on her face—it hasn’t always been there. I watched her fall apart when that bastard sperm donor walked out on us, and I made a promise to myself to never let her go through something like that again.

  She carefully sets each mismatched plate in the drying rack and then begins washing the glasses. The countertops are slightly warped in places from wear and tear, and the linoleum floors crack at the edges, but the kitchen is spotless. The surfaces are free of clutter, and the bubbled countertops shine. We may not live in a mansion, but we do the best we can with what we have.

  “Did you get the mail today, baby? Any bills?”

  “Nope,” I answer quickly. “Just junk mail.”

  I avoid her eyes and focus on drying the dishes with mock enthusiasm. I think I have enough saved from my pro shop paychecks to cover what came through the mail this week. If any more bills show up, I’ll have to hand them over, though. If I could find another way, I would. I feel like I’m constantly searching for another way.

  I’m so fucking tired of running to stand still.

  “Whew! I’m so glad to hear it. We might actually be in the black this month. Ever since Oakbourne sponsored you for the semester, things have been turning around. Mr. Fontaine is a godsend, isn’t he?” She’s downright cheerful as she bumps my shoulder.

  “Yeah, he is. He’s a really good man.” My voice sounds bitter and monotone even to my own ears. I’m telling her the truth—I have the utmost respect for Mr. Fontaine. Every time I think of the check he wrote me, it reminds me of what I can’t have. That check took away any chance of having what I so desperately want. I won’t disrespect him that way.

  He could have sponsored anyone. Hell, there are a lot of my teammates who are consistently beating my numbers and were safer bets for Mr. Fontaine. But when he handed me the check, he told me skill isn’t the only determining factor in his decision. He takes into account grades, work ethic, and need, in addition to talent. Need.

  I know it’s a handout, but I’m not in the position to refuse it.

  Mr. Fontaine asked me to keep quiet about the sponsorship. Evidently, he always chooses a player to groom and finance while in college, but it’s always a private arrangement.

  So I keep quiet. And his daughter thinks I’m an asshole sending her mixed signals.

  She hasn’t spoken to me in three weeks. I’d give my right arm to erase the entire night from existence. As soon as Alex left that night, I told Stacey we were done, although nothing was really going on with us … from my perspective anyway. She’s the interlude, completely inconsequential. I hate that Alex saw me with her.

  I go to the oak tree every Sunday hoping she’ll show. I go early and stay late, craving even the smallest glimpse of her, but I leave every time feeling more defeated than the time before. The pit simmering in my stomach grows bigger each day, and I’m unsure how much longer I can stay away.

  I’ve spent the last few years of my life treading water, with no relief in sight. Every day is a means to an end. Try harder, work harder, be better in hopes that it will make a difference. It never fucking matters.

  Until the day I caught sight of a bewitching angel perched on a tree branch. At a time when I had no idea what I was looking for, she became the only thing I could see. All the shit and static that surrounds me is muted when I’m near her. If only I could show her how I feel. If only I could tell her she’s it for me. I know it down to the depths of my soul.

  If only.

  She talks about moving to New York to study art like it’s a pipe dream, but I know the truth. They’d be lucky to have her. She filled out an application and sent examples of her work, saying she only did it to get her art teacher and me off her back. I know her parents have always dreamed of her attending their alma mater, Tulane University, but if I can’t pigeonhole Alex, neither can they.

  My family troubles, her dad’s role in my education, her amazing talent that I refuse to hinder—they all add up to one thing. I can’t be with her, at least not now. As much as I want to be the guy for her, I’m just not there yet. I know I’m a good guy, but I have dreams of becoming a better man. A man who takes care of his family … a man who takes care of her.

  I may not be able to be with her in the way that I want, but I’ll be damned if I let her shut me out of her life completely. I’m done waiting for her to forgive me.

  “Mom, I need to take off for a while. Y’all are okay here?” I pinch her waist lightly to get her attention.

  “Of course, darling. I’ll see you later tonight?”

  “Yeah,” I shout behind me as I rush to the door with renewed resolve. “Bye Lucy Lou, I’ll catch you a little later.”

  “Wait! Can I come with you? Please, West?”

  I stop abruptly and lean down to kiss her forehead and give her a quick headshake.

  “Not this time, sweet girl. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Okay,” she whispers sadly.

  I tap her chin until she meets my eyes and then give her a big smile.

  “Next time, I promise.”

  “M’kay, West.” She forces a smile, and I smooth her hair as I walk away.

  I hate to leave her feeling sad, but I can only handle one problem at a time. Fixing this cold shoulder from Alex is way overdue, so Lucy will have to forgive me tomorrow. Lucky for me, she’s wrapped around my little finger, too.

  “Come on, Miss Anna. You always know where to find Alex. I’m gonna follow you around and pester you until you tell me,” I chuckle until she levels me with a steely glare, and I shut my mouth instantly.

  She traipses back and forth through the club’s kitchen with me nipping at her heels. The longer I follow, the louder the clangs of the pots and pans become. I’m starting to wear her down—I feel it in my bones.

  “You will do no such thing, young man.” Miss Anna turns around with one hand on her hip and the other holding a skillet. Her white apron is smeared with black soot, and wisps of hair escape her bun and tickle her neck. “I’ve got work to do, and you are a bother.”

  “I just want to talk to her, and she’s been avoiding me. I don’t know what else to do.” I hold up my hands in protest and to possibly block a swinging skillet.

  “That sweet girl’s been moping around this club for weeks, and I have an inkling that has something to do with you. You give me one good reason why I should help you, boy.”

  Truth be told, I’m a little afraid of Miss Anna. As she stares me down suspiciously, I feel like I’m in a standoff with Alex’s guard dog. She loves her fiercely, and she’d have no problem knocking me upside the head if I caused any trouble for her girl.

  “You should help me because I want to make it right. I care about her as much as you do, Miss Anna—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. I love that child as my own,” she barks at me angrily. Her face softens slightly as she continues, “You seem sincere, though, so I’m going to give you this one chance. I saw her heading out to the field behind Plantation course. It’s the old driving range. She likes to hit balls out there.”

  “Alex plays golf?” I ask with a shocked look.

  “Of course she does! How do you not know that? Boy, you better get out of here before I change my mind.”

  “You won’t regret this, Miss Anna. Thank you.” I race out of the kitchen as fast as my legs will ca
rry me.

  “Oh, I won’t be the one regretting anything. You will!” I hear her say threateningly as leave the clubhouse.

  I sneak up behind Alex and watch her fine-tune her stance to drive the ball. She adjusts her grip on the driver and takes a few practice swings before she addresses the ball. The club whips through the air with a clean whistle, followed by a familiar crack. My eyes follow as the ball soars toward the horizon. 100 … 150 … 200 … 225 yards according to the beat-up, rusted markers. Damn. Yeah, I’d say Alex definitely plays golf.

  I can see why she comes here. The field is slightly overgrown with buttercups and black-eyed Susans, and the far end is lined with live oaks. There isn’t another soul in sight, and the only sounds are the soft breeze and the faint chirp of crickets. If I looked up tranquility in the dictionary, I swear there would be a picture of this field. Seeing her willowy frame and untamed waves against this backdrop brings me an immediate feeling of peace. God, I’ve missed her these past three weeks.

  “Wow, that’s quite a swing you’ve got there,” I call out from behind Alex.

  She whips her head around in surprise, and her mouth drops open slightly before she schools her features into a hard scowl. She turns back to the open field and places another ball on the tee.

  “I’m busy, West. Go away.” Her words sound curt and harsh. She takes me by surprise, and I wince in response. She doesn’t even turn to look at me. She keeps her eyes trained on the horizon, as if my presence is a nuisance.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Not until you talk to me. You can’t avoid me forever.” I walk in front of her, effectively blocking her shot, and she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

  “I’ve done a bang up job avoiding your hypocritical ass thus far. There’s no reason I can’t keep it up.” She tosses her driver into her golf bag and slings it over her shoulder. Unfortunately for her, I grab the bag mid-swing and throw it over my own shoulder.

  “Let me rephrase, then. I won’t allow you to keep avoiding me. You mean too much to me.”

  She throws her hands up in the air in frustration and starts to storm away. Changing her mind midstride, she turns back and levels me with her eyes.

  “I got the message loud and clear, West! No explanation necessary. I don’t need you to spell it out for me. I’ve had enough humiliation to last me a good, long while, okay?”

  She stalks back over to me and reaches for her golf bag, but I refuse.

  “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I say under my breath, resisting the urge to grab her and kiss her senseless.

  “Oh no? Look, I know you’re a nice guy, and you’re trying to let me down easy. I don’t need some big explanation about how I’m a sweet girl, but you just don’t see me that way. It was foolish of me to think you ever would.”

  The anger slowly leaves her words, and an undercurrent of hurt takes its place. Her shoulders slump in defeat as she raises her hand again, silently asking for her golf bag.

  “I’ve listened to you, Alex, and now you need to listen to what I have to say. If you want nothing to do with me afterward, well, then I’ll have to accept that. But I deserve for you to hear me out.” I hold my ground and refuse to break eye contact. I’m not giving up easily. I grip her golf bag tightly, like it’s the only lifeline I have left to her. Once I give it back, she has no reason to ever talk to me again. She’ll have to pry this damn bag out of my dying hands.

  Her eyes close slightly, and she crosses her arms over her chest, as if she’s physically holding herself together. She remains silent, either waiting for my explanation or waiting for me to leave her the hell alone. I have a feeling it’s the latter.

  Shit … I’ve been so worried about getting her to talk to me, I never gave any thought to what I’d actually say.

  “Okay, well, this is the thing, Alex … you know you’re my girl, right?” I stutter and stammer as words escape me. I’m such a fucking idiot.

  Alex releases a heavy sigh and reaches out for her golf bag again, which frustrates me beyond reason.

  “No, you don’t get to walk away from me.” I point my finger accusingly. I’m losing her and desperation is creeping in. I’ll do just about anything to get her to stay.

  “You don’t want me to walk away? Then tell me something, West. Tell me something I don’t know.” She sounds as irritated as I feel.

  “You know what, Alex? You and I live very different lives. I don’t have the luxury of just taking everything I want.” I shake my head in defeat and silently beg her to hear the words I’m saying. To feel the words I can’t seem to find. “Just because you’re all I think about—just because I count the days, count the hours until I can be alone with you on Sundays; just because the thought of you shutting me out causes an actual ache in my chest, doesn’t mean I can have you. It doesn’t mean I deserve you.”

  I chance a quick look at her, and I see the tears pooling in her eyes. It takes all my restraint not to go to her.

  I look to the sky for the answers, but as always, I come up empty.

  “My life is such a mess, Alex. I can barely keep my head above water. I’m constantly looking for a way to get in front of all these obstacles in my life, but I always seem to come up short.” I need her to understand where I’m coming from, so I continue. “When you look at me, I want you to see in me what I see in you. I keep trying to find the right path. I’m on my way to becoming who I want to be, who I need to be for us to work. I need you to give me that time.”

  She remains silent, and the air feels crisp and light as the weight of my words finally lifts from my chest. For the first time in months, I can breathe deep. If nothing else, she knows how I feel. What she does with that knowledge is up to her.

  “That’s funny,” she whispers with a sarcastic laugh. “Because you? The guy standing in front of me right now? You’re exactly who I want you to be, West. As is.”

  Her words feel bittersweet, because while they warm my heart, they don’t change the facts. So I ask her the question that will put everything into perspective.

  “Have you heard back from New York?”

  She looks to the trees and bites her lower lip knowingly. She’s fully aware of the point I’m trying to make.

  “Of course you have. Of course they want you. And you’ll go. I need to let you go.” Her expression is wistful, and it serves to assuage my brewing jealousy. New York will get her. New York will take her from me. But it’s the only way. “You are such a bright light, and you are meant for great and wonderful things. Things much larger than I will ever be.”

  She shakes head vigorously in disagreement, but I hold my hand up to stop her from arguing.

  “Alex, I need you to hear what I’m saying. If I pull you to me right this minute, if I kiss those beautiful lips and hold you in my arms, if I let you own me completely, I won’t be strong enough to let you go.”

  “You could always come with me.” She looks hopeful as she watches me intently through wet lashes.

  “You know I can’t do that. It’s not who I am. I can’t leave my family, my responsibilities.”

  “I don’t even know why we’re talking about New York. My parents will never let me go. As far as they’re concerned, the check was written to Tulane the moment I left the womb. It’s a done deal.”

  “And you’re just going to accept that? I’ve never known you to be the type to give up. I’m sure they offered you some type of scholarship, right?” She avoids my gaze, and I bend down lower to meet her eyes. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Tuition and board,” she says reluctantly, “but can I just take off knowing they disapprove? I don’t know … I’m not sure.”

  “You can, and you will. The real question is … can you live with the regret you’ll feel if you let this opportunity pass you by?”

  The seconds stretch to minutes as she lets the possibilities roll through her mind.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  There’s a mixture of h
ope and mischief in her expression, and I can’t help but grin back. I instinctively grab her hands and squeeze.

  “I’m doing this!” I can hear the resolve in her voice, and I couldn’t be happier for her. I swallow my selfishness and focus on the most beautiful girl, inside and out, realizing her dream.

  “You’re doing this.” I laugh and nod my head.

  How in the hell did we end up here? I came here today to convince Alex I’m not a douchebag and to let me back into her life. Instead, I’ve talked her into moving clear across the continent. No wonder my life is such a mess.

  “Look, Alex, I don’t know what the future holds for us long term. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again when you’re a world-renowned artist and I’m someone … else. But I hope you’ll let me be your friend right now. There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the next few months with you. I don’t think I can take one more day of you avoiding me.”

  Her sweet smile gives me my answer before she says a word.

  “Of course, West. I don’t know how much longer I could have kept it up anyway. Fighting with you makes me feel off balance. When I’m away from you my thoughts are, I don’t know … scrambled? Fighting with you is bad for my imagination.” She shakes her head and giggles.

  “That’s because you need to sketch this glorious body for inspiration. I told you from day one I had glory, Poppy Girl.”

  “Yes, you sure did.”

  Her smile is beautiful as always, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s almost reminiscent, like she’s already beginning her goodbye. I can’t think that way. I’m going to spend these months making every second count, because I know deep down this is all I’ll ever have of her.

  “West?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a beautiful turquoise ring that will complement your nails nicely,” she says with a giggle.

  “Now, you’ve done it, Pop.” I laugh as I drop her golf bag on the ground and take off after her at full speed.

  She runs away while chancing quick looks behind her to mark my location. Her lyrical laugh … her unruly blond waves … her dancing cerulean eyes. They all mean one thing to me.