by Lila Felix
Dr. Mavis sat across from me tapping that damned gold and burgundy pen on her damned leather clad legal pad. Why did they do that? Lawyers, secretaries, and yes, even shrinks. Everyone knows it’s a plain, yellow, ‘I bought it at the local office supply store just like everyone else’ notepad. But they always bought it a pretty brown leather dress and made it look like a Madam when really it was just another two dollar whore.
Damn, I’m all piss and vinegar today.
“Tell me about the maid.” She said the maid all snot nosed.
“You mean Ashland.” I didn’t want to hand her the whole basket yet, just pass her one treat at a time. It might make me actually enjoy this visit.
“Oh, we’re on a first name basis with the help?”
I wondered if I threw a throw pillow at her at just the right angle, would it take her eye out and we’d have to postpone until next week—maybe it would dislodge that huge stick up her ass.
“Well, I’m only twenty one so I don’t really refer to her as Ms. Cormier or Mademoiselle Cormier. So yeah, I call her by her first name.”
“So how close have you gotten?” She scribbled and spoke at the same time—everything she was doing that day was pissing me off to no end.
“We’re friends,” she popped her head up at that revelation, “What? I can have friends. I’m not a serial killer. I’m perfectly fine punishing myself. And she doesn’t judge me. She’s been helping me.”
“For example?” Sometimes she would say one word, like example, and it came out with an almost English accent. The product of too many fundraisers and pompous board meetings.
“We started with a car ride, then we went to a drive thru and yesterday we went to a hardware store.”
“I’ve been gone for a week and you’ve gone out in public. Well, what happened?” She was now roosted on the edge of her chair, apparently I was telling her something she found juicy. I was like her very own soap opera.
“On the drive, I was fine. I felt uncomfortable at the drive-thru but she—I handled it. I felt an attack coming on at the hardware store but Ash and I got into a conversation and it stopped. I was fine.”
She propellered her legs, crossing them one over the other and back again, “So, it’s Ash now.”
I threw myself back against the couch and created a distinct strangling motion with my hands. It was directed at her, but she was too busy scratching on her cheap yellow notepad.
“Yes, I call her Ash sometimes.”
If she had a monocle, this would be a lot more fun.
“I’m not judging here, Breaker. If you’ve made progress, more than what you’ve told me, then I need to know.”
“Then you’ll probably want to know about me kissing her.”
Ash
“I am so pissed at you right now. I can’t even look at you,” she seethed at me.
“Steph, I’m sorry. But that’s why I wanted to meet you today, to catch you up.”
She waved her finger at me, “Nope, not good enough.”
I looked down while I confessed the part she was really going to get angry at, “And I went out with Ozark.”
She gave me the worst attempt at an angry face and then said, “I will be pissed later, tell me everything.”
So I did. I told her every single detail and then some. She didn’t say anything throughout the whole conversation, but that was normal for Steph.
“Damn, Ash, I wish some guy would grind me on the greenhouse bench.” I nearly spat out my lemonade.
“There was no grinding, a little light groping yes, but no grinding.”
She sighed, “I miss the grinding and the dry humping. It makes me wish I’d kept my V-card. A girl needs a good make-out session once in a while.”
And they said I talked too much?
“Too much info, Steph. Tell me more about you.”
She told me about her current boyfriend Tower and how his name was complete trickery since…well, I kinda closed my ears once I knew where she was going with the conversation.
After we had breakfast, we parted ways with me promising to call her more often. And a strict threat about keeping information of the make-out kind from her in the future.
When I got back, another car was in the driveway, a blue four by four truck. I saw a guy, same height as Breaker, standing at the door, knocking on it like his girlfriend was on the other side. I put the car in park and went to find out what was going on. I knew Breaker certainly wouldn’t answer the door.
“Hi, can I help you?” I asked the guy. He was rugged, built like a boxer but it all went South when I saw that he had dyed the tips of his hair blonde. It was just too weird for words.
“I was looking for Breaker, but he won’t answer the door. And everybody knows he’s home.”
Yes, everybody did, but he didn’t have to be such an ass about it.
“Let me go inside and see if he wants to see you.”
“Yeah, you do that.” What was it with rude men lately?
I went inside and shut the door behind me, “Jesus, I hope Breaker doesn’t want to see this guy, he’s a real asshole.”
“Yeah, but he’s the only friend I have left.” When I opened the door, I hadn’t seen him but when I closed it; he was there, hiding by the window. He startled me so badly, I nearly peed myself.
“Well, let me tell him.” I reached for the doorknob but he stopped me.
“Would you mind—I mean, could you stay with me. He was there the night—he was there. God, I’m such a pansy.” He pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck as he referred to the infamous night he wouldn’t tell me about.
“Yeah, of course. And if it gets too boring, we can just start making out in front of him.”
He didn’t think that was funny. “Well, let’s just skip the friend time and make out.”
“Come on Breaker.”
“Ugh, fine. But it’s your fault if I wig out.”
I laughed and opened the door. “His majesty will see you now.”
The guy didn’t even say thank you or anything, just barged in and plopped on the couch like he owned the place. And maybe it was just me, but he was kinda dirty. Stains on his jeans, misbuttoned shirt, and his hair was in chunks from the oiliness. Breaker sat on the loveseat to the left of the couch. I sat down next to Breaker and immediately the jerk shoved his foot a little bit deeper in his mouth.
“I didn’t know we had to be chaperoned, my man.”
Breaker didn’t miss a beat, “Oh, I’m sorry. Ash this is Memphis, Memphis, this is Ash. Ash is my—um—friend.”
Well, that kinda stung. At least he didn’t say maid. I was the maid but certainly at this point I was more than a friend.
Memphis just kangarooed his shoulders. He didn’t care who I was—neither did his dingy jeans.
“How’ve you been Breaker?” Memphis leaned back, spanning his arms out over the back of the couch and crossing his legs. It reminded me of those movies where the crooked guy always acted like a pompous ass while making deals at some swanky Miami Beach nightclub. And then he does something truly despicable like cutting the soles off of someone’s feet and then making them stand in salt.
“It’s been better actually. I’m getting out a little. Thanks to Ash.” When he said my name, he looked over at me and took my hand. He made me feel needed.
“Well, I’m having a party this weekend. Why don’t you two come by?” He went from being snarky about Breaker’s house arrest to inviting him to a party. Now wonder Breaker was screwed up.
“I can barely go to the store, Memphis. Maybe another time. How’ve you been? How’s school?”
Memphis picked at his stained pants while he answered Breaker. “I dropped out of school. My parents gave me until the end of summer to decide what I’m gonna do. I’ve been looking into enlisting.”
“That’s a big change. I hope that works out for you.”
“Yeah, so, Holly’s been asking about you.” One minute we were having a normal conversation and the
next he was bringing up her name. It felt like she was the real reason he was here.
People are weird sometimes. They have vindictive motives and some of them keep score. And that’s what this scenario felt like, Memphis was here to turn the screwdriver, lodged in Breaker’s heart, one more time. Like when you want something from someone but you kinda make small talk first, just so you don’t feel like such a bastard about the whole thing.
And then it was clear to me. Memphis was intimidated by Breaker—or was at one time. He was here to make sure Breaker was still—broken. Maybe at one time he was jealous of him or thought he had something Memphis wanted. Whatever it was, it was sick.
Breaker’s hand started to sweat, still wrapped in mine. I could feel the droplets forming. How dare this ‘I’m named after a Tennessee city’ guy think he can just waltz in here and mess Breaker up. I wouldn’t stand for it.
“What does she want to know?” I butted in.
He shot me a glare, “She just wants to know how he’s doing. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You can tell her it’s none of her business. In fact, I think you should leave now.”
He rose to his full height, “Last time I checked, Breaker could speak for himself.”
“Just leave Memphis. If all you came for was to bring up Holly, then just leave.” Breaker spoke, but kept his eyes glued to the ground. I was still proud as hell for him for standing up for himself. It was probably the first time he’d done that with this guy. Otherwise he wouldn’t think he could so easily manipulate him.
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. With friends like that, now wonder Breaker has holed himself up in this place.
“I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn. He was just pissing me off. He just came here to make certain you were still here, stifled.”
He was back to looking defeated. He hunched over, head in his right hand and his left still clamped down on mine. We were the same, except I’d gotten over my aversion to others’ comments a long time ago—somewhat.
“What’s she gonna do—eat you?”
That broke him out of his turtled-up posture.
“What?”
“I said—what’s she gonna do, eat you? She probably didn’t even ask about you. Needle dick just wanted to make sure you were down for the count. He looked like he had some mommy issues, or maybe he was just pissed because he’s such an asshole and you have a hot girl.”
His shoulders started to shake and I felt wretched. I’d made him cry. Then I heard him inhale a breath and he broke out into a full belly laugh.
“It wasn’t that funny.” I crossed my arms over my chest. He’d been laughing for about ten minutes.
“Oh yes it was. Memphis was like the king of LSU. He banged all the girls and made them cry. And you just called him needle dick.”
His own explanation of my blunder made him break out into another fit of chuckles. I should call people ‘needle dick’ more often.
Breaker
She’d nailed it. She was a lens, calibrated to my exact prescription—making me see everything clearly. Memphis had done this to me for years—and now that I stepped back to think about it, he’d done it way before the Holly incident. We’d have a totally normal text conversation full of niceties and shallow questions. But he’d always end up telling me something about Holly. But I’d tolerated it since he was my only friend left. But he’d never shown up at my house before. Someone must’ve told him I’d been out.
But that wasn’t true anymore. I had Ash. Or she had me. I couldn’t tell one from the other anymore. And I didn’t care. She was everything I’d needed for so long.
After I composed my laughter, I straightened myself out and looked her right in those rippling brown eyes and said, “Now that we’ve taken care of our ill-mannered guests—are you ready to witness my master gardener skills?”
“Master gardener, huh? Yeah, let’s go.”
We got to the nursery and it was packed with people. Everyone was getting their yards ready for July 4th parties and barbeques.
“Hey,” Ash said as she touched my pinkie finger, “I’m going to look at the roses.” She nodded at me, confirming that I’d be ok and walked away.
I kept her in my peripheral. I found the orchids inside the greenhouse area of the nursery. There were tons, but I was searching for the one. I saw her move around to the yellow roses, she bent down to smell every single blooming bud. Her eyes closed and she made the same face—the one she made when she ate. It was pure bliss. She rose and looked over at me, I’d been caught. She whirled her finger around, commanding me to turn around and get back to business.
I finally found a Masdevallia hidden in the back of the shelf, ignored and waiting for me. They had a unique blossom, just like her. I shuffled the other pots around and retrieved it. It hadn’t been getting water all the way in the back and to the ordinary eye, it probably looked like a regular houseplant. It reminded me of myself.
I walked around a little more, picking up orchid fertilizer and a mister. Thank God she had a white shirt on today and sunglasses on top of her head. It made it so much easier for me to spot her in the crowd. But the more I walked around, the noisier it became. The sounds of the register became more pronounced, the beep and bomp of the scanner blared ten times louder in my ears than I knew they actually were. The whirlwind of sights and sounds enveloped me and it was impossible to see through it.
“Look at me, Breaker. I need you to tell me what kind of roses we should get. I’m such a flower folly, I’m liable to pick them exclusively for their color and nothing else. And my luck, I will pick the only one in the bunch that’s not meant for greenhouses. Or the only one that can’t be owned by people named Ash.”
I could see her through the cloud and I focused on the motion of her lips. The way she cocked her right eyebrow when she was being facetious. But when she touched my hands, clutched to the sides of the orchid’s clay pot—the spell ended. The tornado was sucked into my imagination and put away for further use.
My brain and my heart were in dissidence—and neither had a lead over the other. And this instance proved a perfect example of why. She healed me with one touch. My twisted heart allowed her crystal perceptions to override mine with a simple touch of my hand. But my brain knew better. It knew my heart for the fickle beast it was. It knew my ticker’s weakness. And she was it. And I had a sneaking suspicion that one of these days my damned brain would win and smash my heart’s hope to pieces. Or she would—she would find me out for the fraud I was and smash everything to bits.
“I’m ok. I’m fine,” I focused on an elementary task, putting my treasures into the shopping basket she’d been pushing. Then I made my feet go one in front of the other.
“Good. Now, I love the orangey ones.”
She practically ran to the orange roses with crimson tips and in her exuberance, allowed a thorn to pierce her finger.
“Ouch,” she hissed and jerked her hand back.
“Let me see,” I rushed over to her.
“It’s just a little drop of blood, not a big deal.” She slid her finger in her mouth. Her velvet brown eyes flicked up to mine, clearly not aware of what she’d done. And I made the grave mistake of watching as she pulled it out, her paradisiacal, pouty lips made a perfect circle around it. It was almost worse that I knew what those lips felt like now. They were sirens to mine, calling them back to the original scene of the sin. And as we stood there I became the committer of multiple sins—more than I ever thought possible.
I cleared my throat, desperate for a subject change, but instead I dug myself a little deeper, “Orange means passion, or the beginning of a new relationship that you hope will go further.”
“Or both?” She asked not so innocently.
“Or both.”
“Let’s buy the whole place out of orange then,” she giggled. That was the first time I’d heard a true giggle out of her. She wasn’t the giddy, silly kind.
After explaining to h
er what the other roses meant, she decided to get one of each color. I got the other things we needed and as we headed out to the car I realized I’d made it through another trip in public without a flip out. Well, there was an almost flip out, but not a full blown one. But then fear whispered, “Only because Ash is with you. You couldn’t have done it on your own.”
And it was right. But I was too damned selfish and overly attached to her to admit it out loud.
We got home and I replanted all the roses in pots bought at the nursery. She’d picked out some wacky designs, but I went with it. They were all going to be for her anyway. I loved the growing of them, but the results would be for her.
She jumped up on the shelf next to where I was working and watched. Ash was such a voyeur, not that I had any room to talk.
“How long can they go between watering?”
“Why?” I continued to prune the dead leaves off of the last rose bush.
“I’m just thinking,” She looked in the air.
“When you think, I get in trouble.”
“That’s true, but I thought you liked my kind of trouble.”
“I do like your kind of trouble.” I looked at her briefly. She swung her legs back and forth and inadvertently stuck her chest out—such trouble.
I finished up and we stood back. “You look happy,” she remarked.
I flinched, then backtracked. “I think I am happy. I feel more like Breaker James and less like the head case on the tab of the file.”
“I love your name.”
I stepped closer to her but my damned hands were encrusted with potting soil.
“I love when you say both of my names," I said, putting only a breath’s distance between us.
“Do you? I’m gonna have to remember that.” Her Southern accent grew a little thicker as she laid on the charm.
“Wait. I don’t know your middle name.”
“Oh no, you’re gonna have to work for that Breaker James.”
She hopped off the shelf and walked out and if she wasn’t purposefully swaying her hips back and forth like that—I’d love to be witness to a time when she really tried. It was devastatingly sexy.
