by Mariah Dietz
“Yes, it’s a big deal! You brought a fucking porn star home for Thanksgiving!”
“I don’t know that you can classify her as a star. She said she only made a couple of films,” Billy objects.
Hank’s eyes cut to him, wiping the smile from his face. His eyes return to mine, still narrowed. “Look, dude, I know this has been a rough year for you, but don’t go jumping into bed with a porn star just because shit sucks. Otherwise, it’s going to suck a whole hell of a lot more.”
Hank stomps out of the room. I wait for Billy to make another joke about the situation, or ask for her last name so he can look her up, because he totally will.
“I personally don’t look at the profession of adult movie actors with disgust like our godly brother Hank. Granted, there’s no way I’d be okay with my woman screwing other men …” His words trail off as he silently thinks about it, and I thank God I can’t hear his thoughts. “Anyways,” he says, shaking his head, “it’s not just that she was in some adult movies. It’s obvious you aren’t interested in her, and it’s pretty obvious she’s a little too interested in you wanting to be a doctor. You’re better than this, kid.” He stands up and grabs his plate of pie and leaves me with a sink full of dirty dishes and his first piece of brotherly advice he’s ever bestowed upon me.
“You’re starting to keep flashcards to remind you of your boyfriend? Is there one with my name too?” Kendall teased from her seat on the couch.
Your pen stopped from where you were scribbling something on a note card, and you looked up from the textbook you’d spent most of the day buried in to the mess of flashcards spilled across the floor. A smile covered your face as you reached out to grab a card that was half covered.
“No, these are for my anatomy class. It’s all of the muscles and facts about them that I need to memorize. This one’s the gluteus maximus,” you explained. “Did you know that the gluteus maximus is the muscle in our bodies that allows us to walk upright?”
“Maybe that’s why you’re such an ass man. Your name’s in the word,” Jameson teased.
“I think it explains why he can be such an ass,” Wes fired.
This adorable grin covered your face and then grew into a laugh. You finally closed the textbook, and began gathering the mess of cards and highlighters before stretching.
“Come on, Maximus, let’s go to bed.”
My body whipped around. Your surprise turned into a giggle that I’m pretty sure was induced from too many hours of being so deep in thought. I stood up, and you backed up a few paces, shaking your head. “No. Don’t even think about it,” you warned.
It was too late, and you knew it. You sprinted down the hallway with me on your heels.
“I have socks on! This isn’t fair!”
I was gaining on you, and you knew it. I was thankful for the socks because I’m pretty fast, but you can shoot off like a damn bullet. Those socks leveled the playing field.
I heard the others whoop at us as we made another lap around the house, and I waved my arm, trying to get one of them to stand up and cut you off.
Before we reached them, your foot slid as you raced through the kitchen, allotting me just enough time to catch up to you and haul you over my shoulder, eliciting a stream of giggles and pleas as I stopped to catch my breath.
“I think someone’s going to get some gluteus maximus,” Kendall said as she walked past us, slapping you on the ass as she did.
I patted your ass a few times as I carried you up the stairs in a fireman hold.
Once in the confines of my room, I set you down on the bed and watched you shake your head at me. “You are a maximus!” you exclaimed, pulling your socks off and flinging them at the wall.
I grinned and took my shirt off, tossing it in the same direction of your discarded socks. “But I’m your maximus,” I said, grabbing your left hand in mine and turning it so I could see your tattoo: the word ‘his’ etched across it in my handwriting. I placed it to my mouth and slowly licked it.
My eyes moved from your hand to your face and I saw the anticipation dancing in your eyes. “Always,” you whispered, readjusting so that you sat on your knees.
You lied to me Ace.
You fucking lied to me.
I wake up feeling sated and happy, until my eyes open and I’m forced to face it was all a dream. My mind can conjure up repressed details, like the way her skin tastes warm and sweet, or the scent of her hair, even the feeling of her skin against mine. I push the dream away, discarding it along with the dozens that came before.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Real or fake, none of it fucking matters. She’s gone.
I roll away from Erin so that I face the wall, and move around a few moments trying to get myself comfortable.
Christmas is lonely and painful. I narrowly managed to avoid having any involvement with Erin for the holidays. I wasn’t about to bring her to Arizona to meet my entire family, especially not after the fiasco from Thanksgiving. I’m still receiving shit from Sarah and both of my brothers about that. My mom on the other hand, works to play ignorant, like she never heard the words in the first place.
Kendall insisted on carrying out a few traditions, thankfully not half as many as last year. There’s no way in hell I would have helped to roll out shit loads of cookies, decorate a tree, or any of the other holiday mayhem the girls had involved us in last year.
Hank and Sarah had invited the family to their house for Christmas this year. I wondered if my mom had suggested it to get me away from our house, and the memories of spending hour upon hour decorating our house and the Bosses last year. I feel positive that she pushed the idea forward when we all learned she was coming home for Christmas. No one had flat-out told me that she was, but I’d overheard Kendall discussing it with Jenny one night.
The memory of David floods my mind constantly over the holiday as I painfully recall that we had planned to head north this Christmas to have a real white Christmas, complete with sledding, pine trees, and wood-burning fires.
Thoughts like these come with an onslaught of memories of her, as my mind works from memory and imagination, picturing us in front of a fire with my arms wrapped around her small frame, breathing in the comforting scent only she had, hearing her breathe as she worked her way further into my arms. I can hear her laugh as we sail down a snow-covered hill on a sled and picture the bright fire in her eyes from the thrill. My mind is so good at creating these false realities that sometimes I have to remind myself what’s real.
When I arrive back in San Diego, I find Kendall sitting on the couch with a blanket and a picture album.
“Hey, how was your Christmas?” she asks, looking up and trying to inconspicuously close the album.
I really don’t want to explain that I spent the majority of it in my brother’s guestroom, drowning in sorrow and my fake realties because I wanted to be experiencing ridiculous Bosse traditions, like sleeping on the floor under the Christmas tree or watching every corny Christmas special on TV. I even missed hearing Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby on a continuous, repeated playlist.
I shake my head to dispel the thoughts, and focus on Kendall. “It was good. Where’s Jameson?” I ask, dropping my suitcase. I’m hoping he’s nearby so I can get out of here without too much small talk.
My eyes fall to Kendall and notice her face is blotchy from tears. “He went to the grocery store. The fridge is like empty.”
“What are you doing? Are you okay?” Guilt pushes me to question her, although I know I shouldn’t, and that I’m treading closer to a ledge that I shouldn’t want to be nearing.
“It’s nothing. I didn’t realize you’d be home this early.”
“Are those from this Christmas?” I ask, nodding to the now-closed album on her lap.
She shakes her head. “No, Mindi put these together. Ace couldn’t get hers to fit in her suitcase so I’m going to ship it to her.”
“That’s hers?”
Kendall looks at me s
uspiciously, appraising my mood. I had created a rule that developed a couple of months ago that we wouldn’t say her name. I’m not sure which of us has a more difficult time with the agreement that I harshly ordered one day after hearing Kendall casually say her name, but we both diligently work to maintain it. It’s best to have thoughts of her buried as far back in the recesses of my mind as possible.
“Can I see it?”
Kendall nods, gifting me a small smile as she lifts her blanket and resituates so I can sit beside her.
“My mom cleaned out Dad’s den. Apparently it’s going to now be a home gym,” Kendall explains as she flips the book over and opens the cover. The fact that she doesn’t specify that it’s their dad catches me for a second, and I stare at her. I know David had told me I’d been accepted into the family. He told me this even before she and I began dating, but for some reason, Kendall’s words make me feel the absence of not only that acceptance, but of the love I had received from the Bosse family. It adds to my already emotional state and I take a few steps closer to her. “She came across boxes of photos, and Mindi took them all and made albums for each of us.”
My eyebrows scrunch as her words about the home gym and the eradication of the den catch up to me. “She got rid of the den?”
“Yeah, Christmas was …”
I look back at Kendall as she works to find a word to describe the situation, and tears cloud her bright blue eyes. “It didn’t go so well. We stayed at Mindi and Kyle’s.”
I know things must have gone really bad if they had elected to not stay, but I don’t want to pry so I turn my attention to the photo album cradled in her arms.
Kendall turns the first page that has an inscription to Ace from Mindi, and there staring back at me is a photo of a small, wrinkly, red-skinned baby drowning in pink and lying in the arms of David, who’s beaming at the camera, looking like he’s just won the lottery.
There’s picture after picture of a mess of blond hair and smiles. Her big brown eyes stare at me through the pages of her childhood.
“She used to love Donald Duck. When we went to Disneyland, I remember all I wanted to do was find all of the princesses. Not Ace. She wanted the duck.” Kendall laughs, pointing to a young, smiling Ace, posing beside Donald Duck.
“Who’s that?” I ask, noticing a boy reoccurring in several pictures.
“That’s Kyle!” Kendall says with a quiet chuckle.
I know that he’s been in the family a long time, but seeing him looking so young really puts it into perspective.
Kendall smiles as she comments on more pictures, tying them to stories of their childhood. I listen and smile, picturing the stories she draws for me that I’ve never heard.
The last several pages are filled with gaps and entire pages of missing pictures even though a caption is written next to each blank spot, indicating they were once filled. Kendall flips through them so quickly, I’m not able to read them.
Her stories stop and she holds the last several pages tightly between her fingers, her eyes trained on the album. “I don’t want this to upset you,” she says softly. Her eyes slowly travel to mine. “I’m sure that this is hard. I know it was for her.” Tears pool in her eyes and I have to grit my teeth and fist my hands to not reach out and comfort her. I’m afraid if I do, we’ll both see how weak I really am right now.
“What?”
Kendall releases a breath and lets one of the pages fall. I look down to see pictures of Ace and me.
I stare at a picture of her sitting on my lap. She’s smiling at the camera, and I’m smiling at her. Our hands are tangled together on her lap.
I look to the next image and find pictures from Thanksgiving the year before. There’s a slew of images of us covered in flour from when we had decorated sugar cookies and of Ace linked to my side. They continue to images of us standing in front of our houses glittering with Christmas lights. I can’t believe how many pictures I’m in of their recorded time line, and it causes me to wonder if that’s the reason the book didn’t fit in her suitcase.
“What happened to these ones?” I ask, flipping to a series of empty slots.
“She took some out. She wanted to bring them with her,” Kendall’s words are slow.
“Who was in them?”
I watch as she carefully creates her response, her eyes still looking slightly apprehensive. “I don’t think there were too many pictures you weren’t in last year.”
My head spins, wondering why? Why would she take pictures of us, of me, back to Delaware?
“Hey.” Jameson’s voice has my head jerking up in surprise. He’s holding several bags of groceries in his arms, while looking between Kendall, the photo album, and me with his chin dropped and eyes slightly slit with unease. “Kendall, Stacy is here. She said she has some clothes to return?”
Kendall pushes the blanket off her lap and walks to Jameson where she presses a chaste kiss on his cheek and then heads out the front door.
“Hey, man,” Jameson says, lowering the groceries to the floor and shoving his hands into his pockets as his eyes, still slightly narrowed, scan over me.
“She took pictures of me.” The words come out before I can even think about saying them.
Jameson’s expression remains cautious.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You haven’t really been in the mood to discuss any of this.” Jameson waves a hand at the photo album. “I … don’t know what to say exactly …”
“Did she ask about me?”
“She asked if you were happy.”
I stare at him, imploring him to tell me more.
“I didn’t realize …” Jameson stops and lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand over his unruly blond hair.
“What didn’t you realize?”
“She’s not doing … you wouldn’t …” Jameson grasps for words as his eyes travel to the ceiling. “This has affected her a lot more than I think we all realized.”
“Meaning?”
“Here,” Jameson says. He retrieves his phone from his pocket and presses a few buttons before making his way over to where I’m sitting, and extends it to me.
The image makes my breath catch in my throat, and my hands to freeze midair. It’s Ace. It’s irrefutable that it’s her, but it’s difficult to accept that it is. She’s so thin that her big brown eyes take up even more real estate on her face than normal. Her cheeks are sunken, and the base of her neck exposes every tendon and muscle. It’s hard to look away from her eyes, though. They look so empty, so dull compared to the bright dancing gleam they always held.
“Is she okay?” The words are painful as they leave my mouth.
“I don’t know,” Jameson replies, and I can tell by the way his posture immediately stiffens that he hadn’t meant to admit this out lout. “I mean, I think, I think she’s getting better. We talked a lot one night, and I saw the old her come back at times, but … I’m worried.” Jameson rubs his palms down the front of his jeans and sits beside me.
“Muriel really managed to fuck things up. The entire trip was so … different. It was nothing like last year,” Jameson says, shaking his head.
“What did she do?”
“Yeah, she got engaged.”
My jaw drops, as my eyes widen with shock.
“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Jameson says, nodding. “We were all shocked. I think we were also too caught off guard to actually say anything. Everyone but Ace … she was pissed. The conversion didn’t go well to say the least.”
I run my fingers over my forehead. I know that Ace’s and Muriel’s relationship has been stretched thin over the past six months. I can’t imagine what this will do.
“What in the hell’s wrong with her?” My words come out loud and harsh. I feel so angry. So fucking angry, that it takes all of my focus not to start destroying things. She’s successfully working to ruin my life! I feel a sense of loathing for the woman I had once cared for and respected. I want to shak
e her until she realizes what she’s doing to herself. To me.
A loud banging on the door has Landon and me looking at each other with apprehension.
“Did you …” he begins.
“No, did you—”
He shakes his head before I can finish asking if he slept with a girl that already has a boyfriend. We had encountered that scenario up in Alaska when he’d taken a girl home, only to have her boyfriend show up at our door a few hours later with the sole intent of killing Landon.
I pull open the door with Landon beside me. My fists are curled and my feet are loose, ready to move.
Wes stands before us, looking more pissed than I’ve seen him in sometime, maybe ever. He pelts me with a handful of DVDs.
“You’re ditching classes to hang out with some easy fuck?” he yells, removing the question as he continues. “Is she worth throwing all of this away for?” He stabs the cover of the remaining DVD in his hand and my eyes briefly dart down to see Erin. Her breasts are exposed as she leans across a man with another naked chick on the cover of a porno.
I hadn’t told him or any of the others about Thanksgiving and have no idea how he found out. I don’t bother asking.
He chucks the movie at me, followed by a quiet chant of curses.
“I feel like you’re the only person that didn’t learn one goddamn thing from your relationship with Ace! How in the hell do you go from her, to that?” he asks. His voice is loud and filled with disgust as he waves to where the movies are scattered across the floor. “You’re disrespecting yourself and her by being with this girl! Throwing away your future and your friends to hang out and party with some loose chick that doesn’t see anything but dollar signs when she looks at you.”
Wes shakes his head angrily, his lips pursing. “She was her. Ace was my track girl. I didn’t know she was your Ace at the time.” He slams his open palm against the doorjamb, letting his eyes fall. “I was out of my mind, scared as fuck that I was falling for her for a long time. I had to keep separating myself because there’s no way in hell I would do that to you. It took me a while to realize that I did love her, but only as a friend. Just like some fucker, I fell for what the two of you had. You were a better friend with her around, a better son, a better person.
