by Adore Ian
Ugh, this situation perfectly illustrates what I hate about small talk. Right now, social etiquette dictates I ask how her holiday went. Problem is, I don’t care.
But when the silence drags, I cave. “How was yours?”
“It was very nice. Thank you for asking.”
Did I just detect a hint of sincerity in her voice?
“I missed you boys,” she adds.
I pause. “Have you been drinking?”
“No. I haven’t had a drink in almost seven months.”
Well, color me surprised, I almost say, but don’t. “What’s this about?”
She inhales sharply. “I’m attending a few conferences in your area soon, and I was hoping we could meet. For coffee. Or something. Whatever you want.”
I check my phone screen to make sure it is indeed my mother on the line. This feels weird. Nadia was never manipulative, but how the hell else do I explain her calling me up to chat and ask about hanging out?
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” she says. “I’ll text you the dates I’ll be in town and my availability.”
“Okay.” Again, it comes out like a question.
“I understand if you don’t want to see me. I’d very much like to mend things between us. I recognize that I need to earn your trust and atone for my actions. I’d very much appreciate the opportunity to try, but I know you may not be ready and that’s fine.”
Listening to my mother try and edge into a conversation about feelings is like listening to someone read stereo instructions out loud. It’s perforating and sterile, and so matter-of-fact you end up more confused by the end than you should be.
“Okay,” I repeat because it’s all I can think to say.
We hang up and I stare at my phone—because what the fuck just happened?
I finish putting away my groceries then make dinner and eat alone in front of my TV. I’m once again struck with the urge to call Marrin and tell her about what just happened with Nadia. But I can’t.
On the coffee table sit two novelty coasters I bought Marrin for Christmas. I didn’t wrap them, I’d just intended to leave them in her apartment when she wasn’t looking.
I try not to think about the hole Marrin’s left in my life. I wasn’t joking when I said she was my best friend. It feels like I’m missing a limb or something. Fuck, I don’t know.
Before I go to bed, I look out the window to see a light dusting of snow on the ground. I scan the parking lot, finding Marrin’s car.
At least I know she’s home safe.
Three days later, it’s still snowing. The governor has officially declared a state of emergency. The interstate is basically useless and none of the roads in town have been cleared. There’s too much snow and not enough plows. We never get weather like this, so it’s no surprise that we’re not equipped to handle it.
Too bad it didn’t happen after spring semester started. I’d be down for a few snow days.
My friends have all been calling to see if I’m all right and if I have power. I do, thank God. The second night of the storm, the power flickered, but it never went out. I’ve ventured outside a few times just to get out of the apartment but that’s it.
I’m sitting on the couch, watching national news coverage of the storm, when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Damian Wane, it’s Alice Braxton, Marrin’s cousin.”
“Hi. How did you get this number?” I realize it’s a dumb question. I bought a trial membership to her club, she has access to all kinds of information about me.
“Not important. Listen, have you heard from Marrin lately?”
“No, sorry.” A tendril of fear knots my stomach. I move to the window, checking that her car is still here. It is.
“I need you to go knock on her door for me.”
“Sure. Is everything okay?” I slip on a pair of shoes.
“I hope so. She wasn’t feeling well yesterday. I’ve been texting her all day and she hasn’t answered. I’d check in myself but the weather is making that difficult.”
I walk to Marrin’s and knock.
When she doesn’t answer, I knock again. “Hey, Mar. I’ve got your cousin on the phone, I swear that’s the only reason I’m here. Can you just answer the door?”
“Anything?” Alice says.
“No. But she and I aren’t exactly talking right now, so she might not be answering because of me.” I knock one more time. “Mar, if you can hear me, call your cousin to check in.” I walk back to my apartment. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“It’s okay. Thanks Damian.”
“No problem.”
We hang up and I try to settle back onto my couch but can’t.
I put on a pair of boots and a jacket and go downstairs to check Marrin’s car. It’s colder than Rudolph's balls, but I don’t care. I push the snow off the driver’s side window and look in to make sure she’s not passed out inside or something.
She’s not.
Feeling like an idiot, I trudge back inside.
Three minutes after I’m back on my couch, Alice calls.
“Did she call you?” I say by way of greeting.
“No. I need you to go inside her apartment.”
This is gonna be awkward.
“I don’t have a key to her place.”
“Check your bedroom door frame. Top right.”
Huh?
“Marrin never trusted me enough to give me a key to her place.”
“I know. Now walk to your bedroom door and check the frame.”
I’m so fucking confused I do what she says. I slide my hand across the door frame and—
My fingertips touch the cold metal of an unmarked key. It’s ordinary, like it could go to anything.
“The fuuuck...”
I don’t even know I’ve spoken out loud until Alice says, “Good. You found it.”
“What the hell is going on? How did this key get here?”
“Nothing’s going on. I had Gavin hide it the night we came over to get Marrin. She trusted you enough to pick her up, so I decided to leave a key just in case.”
My mind is reeling. This is some CIA-level shit. “Who are you?”
“Not important. I need you to go check on Marrin.”
I slip on shoes and head down the hall.
I knock on Mar’s door and announce I’m coming in. When I hear nothing, I unlock and slowly open it.
“Marrin, it’s Damian. I swear I’m not breaking in. Alice left me a key I had no knowledge of until two minutes ago. She’s on the phone and willing to vouch for my innocence.” Alice chuckles. “Mar?”
The apartment is dark. The only light comes from the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar and the fan is on. I knock before I look in. “Mar, it’s me. I’m just making sure—”
Marrin’s unconscious on the floor, wearing only a T-shirt and underwear.
“—shit.”
I rush in, phone forgotten as I drop to my knees.
There’s a towel under her head like a pillow, so I don’t think she fell and knocked herself out. But I still check, tilting her head carefully. She’s burning with fever and slicked with sweat.
“Marrin? Can you hear me? Mar?”
She doesn’t respond, just moans and mumbles like people do when their whole body is racked with fever. I wet a washcloth with cold water and gently dab her cheeks. She groans and turns into the touch.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her. “I’ll be right back.” I grab my phone and don’t bother checking any of Marrin’s cabinets. I know they’re empty. “Has Marrin had a flu shot?” I ask Alice.
“No idea. What the fuck’s happening?”
I fill her in as I race back to my apartment. I grab a thermometer and every liquid cold and flu medication I have as well as a bottle of water and a straw. Then I ask the most obvious question. “How the hell do I get someone who’s unconscious to drink medicine?”
Unsurpris
ingly, Alice has an answer.
Back in Marrin’s apartment, Alice reminds me to lock the door. I don’t bring up Marrin’s stalker and neither does she. Marrin never confirmed she had one, but the look on her face when I brought it up during our fight was all the answer I needed.
I put the phone on speaker and leave it on the coffee table with everything else. In the bathroom, I gather Marrin into my arms as gently as possible.
She whimpers.
It can’t feel good to be moved. I had the flu once and the worst part was the body aches. Her limbs twitch slightly like she can’t lay still from the pain. It only gets worse as I pick her up. But I have no choice. I’m not leaving her on the damn floor.
“Sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I have to move you.” God, her skin is on fire.
I lay her on the couch. She’s ashen and thinner than usual. Her T-shirt has ridden up, so I go to pull it down—
And freeze.
Three scars mar the skin just barely above the top of her low-rise panties.
I’ve never seen them before. Ever.
Two are staggered and horizontal and almost perfectly parallel, but the third is sharply angled somewhere between ninety and forty-five degrees. My hand hovers above them.
How have I never seen these before?
The truth hits me like a Mack truck: I’ve never seen Marrin completely naked.
She’s always kept something around her waist—right over these scars. This whole time, I thought it was a kink. It never once occurred to me that she might be hiding something she didn’t want me to see…
Anxiety crawls up my spine as I pull her shirt down. Now is not the time for this.
The blanket I left at her place months ago is draped across the back of the couch. I pull it over her then follow Alice’s instructions on how to slowly coax a dose of liquid medicine down her throat.
I talk to Marrin the whole time just in case she’s aware of what’s happening. I get some meds in her then grab the water.
Crouching next to the couch, I put the straw in her mouth. “I need you to drink some water, okay? It’ll make you feel better. I promise.” She groans. “Please, baby.”
I brush a strand of hair off her forehead and her lips close around the straw. She only takes a few sips but it’s better than nothing. I try a few more times to get her to drink more but nothing happens. She’s slipped back into the fog of pain and fever.
For the next few hours, I just sit with her. Watching her breathe from my perch on the coffee table.
I pull her hair out from beneath her and drape it over the arm of the couch in an attempt to cool her. I keep a damp cloth on her head and administer another round of medicine per the directions. Her fever comes down, but she doesn’t wake up.
Christ, if she woke up and saw me, she’d probably be pissed.
It’s nearly ten o’clock when the door opens and Alice, Gavin and a redheaded woman I’ve never seen before walk in.
I get up to give Alice room, but she doesn’t come over, the redhead does. She opens a large kit of medical supplies and gets to work. I fill them in on how Marrin’s been since I last spoke to Alice. Her pain seems to have eased, but she hasn’t had more than a few sips of water.
The redhead, who introduces herself as Dr. Addison, applies a tourniquet to Marrin’s arm, swabs a spot with alcohol then pulls out one of those catheter needle things. Mar doesn’t react when Dr. Addison hooks her up to an IV right there in the living room. The bag hangs on a collapsible pole clamped to the edge of the coffee table.
No one but me bats an eyelash.
Who the hell are these people?
I don’t stick around to find out. I head to the door. I shouldn’t be here anyway. If Mar knew I’d entered her apartment without her permission, she’d never speak to me again.
Plus, I can’t look at her lying on the couch like that. She looked sickly and emaciated before the IV, but after…
My chest constricts and I slip out the door.
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that Marrin looks like stress has eaten her alive, or the fact that I may have caused it.
And then there are the scars. What kind of guy sleeps with a woman for almost four months and fails to notice three horrible scars on her body? What the fuck does that say about me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.
I’m unlocking my apartment when Gavin catches up with me. “You forgot your key.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want it. If she knew I had a key to her place and used it to break in...”
“You didn’t break in. We asked you to check on her and it was a good thing you did.”
“I doubt she’d see it that way.”
He nods and starts walking away.
I should go into my apartment and close the door behind me. I should but—
“The scars on her stomach,” I say.
Gavin turns around slowly.
“They’re not from surgery… are they?”
“No, kid. They’re not.”
18
Marrin
Everything hurts. My face, my hips, my skin. I open my eyes and find myself in my bed, Alice is sitting next to me.
“Am I dead?” I croak.
She smiles. “Almost. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” I have no idea how I got here. The last thing I remember I was laying down in the bathroom because I felt like I might vomit. “What day is it?”
“January first. Happy New Year.”
“I’ve been out for two days? How long have you been here?”
“Since late Saturday night after Damian found you unconscious in the bathroom.”
“Oh my God. You didn’t.” Alice purses her lips and my voice raises several octaves. “You did.”
“We hid a key and I’d do it again. You’re lucky you’re not in the hospital right now.”
I try to glare, but it makes the pounding in my head worse.
“I could’ve asked someone from your security detail,” Alice continues. “But they don’t have a key and even if they did, would you’ve preferred a stranger walking into your apartment over Damian?”
Well you got me there.
She fills me in on everything I missed (including an epic snow storm the area is just now starting to recover from), then she helps me to the bathroom.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—I look like hell warmed over.
I pee, brush my teeth, then jump into the shower. Nothing like hot water and soap to make a girl feel alive again. I wash my hair then soap up my body, running a hand over my stomach.
A thought hits me: I woke up in a T-shirt and underwear.
Did Damian see my scars?
Dread knots in my gut. There’s no way to know unless I ask him, and I am definitely not doing that.
I fret for a moment more before another thought eclipses the first: Damian came over to help me even after we broke up. I said some horrible things to him and he still came over to check on me. To take care of me…
I dress when I’m done showering then join Alice on the couch. “Thanks for braving the storm to help me… and for leaving a key with Damian.”
She gives me a side hug. “You’re welcome. I’ll always take care of you, Mar.”
“I know.”
She’s quiet a moment. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Damian?”
I shrug, resting back to stare at the ceiling. “We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“How come? I thought you liked him.”
“I do. I just… It’s safer this way.”
“Safer for who?” When I don’t answer, she adds, “Is this about Frank and your mom… or is this about you?”
“You talked to Gavin, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Frank’s dangerous. I don’t want Damian getting hurt.”
She’s quiet a moment. “It’s natural to want to protect the people we care about. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect yo
u.”
“But you think I should’ve told him about Frank and my mom, don’t you?”
“Do you think you should’ve told him?” she says, voice calm, judgment free.
I shrug. Talking about feelings has never been easy for me.
“What’s the worst that could happen if you told him?” she asks.
“He’d reject and pity me.”
“Perhaps,” she contemplates. “Or maybe he’d accept you.”
I roll my head to face her. Her elbow is propped on the back of the couch, her head resting in her palm. “How would you react to finding out the person you’re sleeping with has a past like mine?”
She gives me a wry smile. “I’d probably ask you to marry me.”
I wince, remembering the story Gavin told me.
“When I met Gavin, I knew he carried scars I both could and couldn’t see. It didn’t stop me from loving him… or from seeing who he truly was.”
“Damian isn’t like you, he wouldn’t understand.”
“It sounds like you’ve already decided that for him.”
I open my mouth to argue but… she’s right.
I rub at the new headache building in my temples.
Alice moves away momentarily, coming back to hand me some meds and a glass of water. I take both.
“May I make another observation?” she says gently. I nod. “It sounds like the problem isn’t with Damian, it’s with you.”
The truth of her words, the sadness I feel, spread through my chest like a firework in the sky. I curl up with my head in her lap. She starts stroking my hair and I’m reminded of all the times we used to sit like this after I started living with her. And after I came home from the hospital following everything that happened Thanksgiving of freshman year.
“Do you remember what your therapist said?” Alice asks, referring to the psychologist the university disciplinary committee made me see. “About how it’s okay to be vulnerable?”
“I don’t like being vulnerable. Letting people in is how you get hurt.”
“It’s not fun when the people we love hurt us.”
Tears thicken my throat. “She said she’d changed,” I whisper. And I know Alice knows I’m talking about my mother. “And I believed her. I trusted her and look what happened.”
