Finally Mine

by Anne Hansen

  She nods and follows me into the tiny room down the only hall in the place. She sits on the edge of the tub as I rifle through her beauty products and medicines until I find some peroxide, ointment, and a box of bandaids.

  “Winnie the Pooh?” I ask holding up the box.

  Keira rolls her eyes. “They were on sale.”

  “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep better at night.” I tug her hand toward the sink and unwrap the bloody paper towel. I examine the cut in the bathroom light. “I don’t think you’ll need a stitch.” I grab a cotton ball and dab the cut with peroxide, then smear some ointment on, and cover it with an Eeyore Band-Aid.

  She flexes her finger and gives a relieved sigh. “I don’t even know where the hospital is if I needed a stitch,” she admits.

  “You know where I am.” I brush my thumb over her injured hand before I clean up the wrappers and put the medicine back. “You know I’d drive you if you ever need a lift.”

  “Vin?” Her voice is tiny, shaky as it echoes against the cool tiles.

  I keep my eyes fixed on the medicine cabinet, because I’m not sure I can handle what I’ll see on her face if I look over. “Yeah?”

  When I close the cabinet door and catch my reflection. I can’t meet my own eyes.

  I can almost hear all the things she wants to say fighting to make it out of her mouth.

  All she winds up saying is, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t, Keira.” I reach a hand out to help her off the edge of the tub. She stands pressed close to me in the chilly little bathroom. “You know I’d do anything I could for you.”

  “I know that,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand like evidence. “I wish you’d let me return the favor.”

  “You’re tutoring me,” I remind her, brushing the hair back from her shoulder.

  “And you’re here, tutoring me. And nursing me back to health.” She puts one hand on my chest, right over my heart.

  I can lie with words all night long, but I know she can feel the way my heart pounds like it’s about to jump out of my chest and into her hands.

  Where it belongs.

  Where it’s always belonged.

  “You fed me,” I counter. “Why are we adding it all up like this anyway? I don’t expect anything in return when I do something for you, Keira.”

  Her smile is so sad, it hurts to look at it. “Then we’re friends, Vin. And friends trust each other. Love each other. Don’t shut each other out.”

  I put my hand over hers. “I’m trying, Keira. I really am.”

  She pulls her hand back and nods. “I know.” She clears her throat and steps into the hall. “How about some pre-calc?”

  “Good. Right.” I run a hand through my hair and try to keep my head on straight. I’m here to help her, to make things easier for her. I just have to remember not to get too close.

  Because as much as I want to help her, I’m constantly walking on the edge of a line, and when I cross it, I will hurt her. No matter what my intentions might be, I can’t risk getting her tangled in the mess that defines my life right now.

  I follow her into her bedroom, which is bright and clean. It definitely looks like what I’d imagine when I think of Keira’s room. The walls are light blue, all the bedding and curtains are white, and she looks kind of like an angel at home in the clouds.

  Sappy, but true.

  She looks just like an angel…who’s seriously pissed at math.

  “I just don’t understand. I did fine in geometry, but it’s like angles are out to kill me now!” She looks at the notebook filled with squiggles and flips the book away from her in disgust.

  I reach out and catch it before it hits the floor. She folds herself onto the bed, and I sit a safe distance away on the chair by her desk. I focus on her work, on helping.

  “Ah. Okay. You have the basics. Here, I’ll show you where you’re going off track.”

  I’m glad pre-calc takes a decent amount of concentration, because it would be really easy to get lost in how good she smells; sweet and sexy all at once. If explaining how functions change when you adjust parameters wasn’t so complicated, I’d have a lot more time to notice how thin her white t-shirt is over her sexy red lace bra, or how distracting it is when she does her hair up in a bun and lets it spill down over her shoulders over and over again when she’s frustrated.

  Or the way she moans a little when she stretches. Damn, that sound comes out of her lips in a way that makes me want to chuck the books across the room and throw her onto her bed.

  After a good two hours of struggling through problem after problem, she gets one all on her own. Then she gets another. A third, a fifth, and by the eighth she hops off the bed and throws her arms around me.

  “Vin! I get it! I’m going to ace this test tomorrow.”

  “If you have a test tomorrow, I’d better head out.” I check my phone and stand. “I’ve got an essay to work on.” I snort. “Never thought I’d be up late with an English book.”

  Keira stands in front of me. She looks warm. Comfortable. Every cell in my body wants to crawl into that white bed with her, strip all her clothes off, and hold her body tight against mine all night.

  But I’m not a complete idiot, and there are too many reasons why that can’t happen.

  I’m aware of every single one of them. Doesn’t stop me from wanting her so badly it aches.

  “I guess you need to get home.” She twists her hands together.

  I want to stay.

  I need to go.

  “Yeah. I better.”

  But I don’t go.

  “Do you think…I know you have to go…but could you just…” She presses her hand over her lips and shakes her head, like she wants to ask, but won’t.

  “Keira?” My voice falls low. “Anything.”

  She clears her throat. “I hate falling asleep alone,” she whispers, her eyes welling up. She immediately laughs it off and crosses her arms. “Forget it. My God, how embarrassing. I’m almost eighteen years old. I don’t need to be tucked in like a little kid.”

  Damnit.

  I should tell her how much I want to, how there’s nothing I could imagine wanting more, but it’s just too risky. Too raw. Not remotely a good idea.

  I open my mouth to spell that all out clearly. That’s my intention. Instead I ask, “How would I manage the chain lock on the way out?”

  The tiniest smile tugs at the side of her mouth. “I don’t lock it. Because my father gets in so late when he comes home. If he comes home.”

  I don’t like that at all, but what am I supposed to say?

  “Go.” When she looks confused, I jerk my thumb toward the hall. “Brush your teeth, wash up, whatever you need.”

  “This is stupid.” She frowns. “I’m being an infant. You need to get work done. I’ll be fine here.”

  I reach for her, slowly, wrap one arm around her waist like she’s made of glass and I’ll shatter her into a million pieces if I move too fast.

  I pull her to me, one step at a time, nuzzle her hair, and whisper in her ear, “Nothing you need is stupid. I’ll do anything I can for you. Let me do this thing…because I can. You have no idea how much more I want to do, but can’t. Let me…let me do this. Please.”

  She looks up at me, her eyes wide and startled, then nods and scurries away. I listen to the bathroom door slam shut and slump over in her desk chair.

  “What the fuck are you thinking? What are you doing?” I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples.

  This is how bad shit gets started. One little thing that seems so damn innocent leads to another thing that’s a little less innocent and then another that’s just plain idiotic.

  I’d hoped seeing Gio’s chop shop would warn her away from me, but it’s like Keira refuses to see the stupid, illegal shit I do. She’s pretty obstinate about insisting on only seeing the good when it comes to me.

  Sweet. So fucking sweet.

  But dangerous.

  Because it makes thing
s that just aren’t possible seem possible.

  I jump off the chair when she comes in, her face scrubbed clean, her dark hair in a braid, holding something out for me.

  “What’s this?” I ask, reaching for the key.

  “It’s a spare. You can lock up on the way out. If you’re so worried.” She twists the edge of her braid around her finger.

  I squeeze it so tight in my palm, I can feel the metal bite into my skin. “I’ll give it back tomorrow at school.”

  She sits on her bed like she’s not sure what to do next. “Keep it. In case.”

  “In case of what?” I ask and watch her blush.

  “In case you need it,” she murmurs.

  “I’ll give it back tomorrow,” I insist. “I don’t need it. But I want it. Too damn much to risk keeping it.” I tug at her hand to get her to stand, then fold the blankets back and point. “Get in.”

  She slides between the sheets and sighs. “You should go home. This is ridiculous. I have no idea why I asked. I feel stupid.”

  I pull the covers up to her chin and drag the desk chair across the floor, next to the bed. I flick off her lamp, but light from the hall spills in. “You need that turned off?”

  She shakes her head so fast, I realize she probably leaves it on at night pretty often, and I don’t blame her at all.

  “I literally could not be more ashamed than I am right now,” she whispers, trying to laugh it off. But I hear the tears she’s attempting to cover up.

  And then, in the dark, I see one streak down her cheek. I pull the chair even closer and catch the next tear with my thumb.

  “Shh. You’re alone in a new place. You lost your mother, your house, your security, all at once. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of for wanting some comfort. Damnit, Keira, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life.”

  “You’re just saying that,” she says, her voice muffled in her pillow. “Look at me. I’m crying like a baby over…what?”

  “So what?” I ask, running a hand over her hair. “You think not crying makes a person strong?” I tuck a loose piece back into her braid. “People who don’t cry are just dead inside, Keira. Just hiding from feelings they can’t face. You face it all. You feel it all. That makes you strong. And I’m not just saying that.”

  “I miss my mother,” she says, her voice heavy with sleepiness.

  “Is this her?” I nod to the picture on her bedside table. I thought it was a picture of Keira when I first came in. It took a few looks before I saw that the woman in the picture was older, her hair a little lighter, her smile a little sadder.

  “Yes. Wasn’t she gorgeous?” Keira asks, snuggling against her pillow.

  “She was a fox,” I agree. “You two could be twins.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice rises with happiness. I smile and keep stroking her hair.

  “Yeah.”

  I watch as her breathing goes even and her hand relaxes from the fist she had it curled in. I keep stroking her hair in the quiet of her room, stupidly happy just being here with her. But I know I have to go. I stand up and creep across the floor, stopping when I hear her sleepy voice.

  “Vin?”

  “What do you need, babe?” I ask, quiet in the still of her apartment.

  “Love. You,” she mumbles on a sigh, then turns over.

  I stand still as a statue, afraid to breathe, afraid of what the hell I should say back to her. Tell the truth? Lie? Leave without a word?

  I force myself to walk back to her bed and realize she was talking in her sleep.

  About me.

  I rush out of her room, lock up, and head to my car.

  “This has to stop,” I announce to myself as I pull off her street and head home.

  It has to stop.

  But I’m not sure I have it in me to stop this. I drive home fast, mad, and with a shitty feeling I can’t shake.

  I’m sure the sun’s not shining any brighter. Is it?

  And how have I never noticed all the little gray birds that hop from branch to branch in the trees that line my street? I take a deep breath and feel a smile tugging on my lips as I skip out of my room.

  I’m shocked to see my father sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Dad! You’re home.” I rub my eyes and blink hard like I’m not sure I can trust my own sight, and he laughs.

  His skin looks loose and pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. “Hardy, har, har, kiddo.” He holds his arms out to me, and I hug him close and maybe a little too tight. “How’ve you been, Keira? You look so happy.”

  I let go of him reluctantly and grab the carton of orange juice from the sputtering fridge. “I’m…really good. I think I’m going to ace my pre-calc test today. And my friends invited me out tonight to go eat at this burger place where they skate to your car. Isn’t that from your time, old man?” I pour us both a glass and hold mine up to his.

  We toast and he laughs. “I’m not that old, sweetie. But that sounds like a lot of fun.” He points to the old fashioned animal cracker tin that was part of my mother’s collection. “I’ve been throwing money in there. For emergencies, but also for fun. Get a bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate malted and think of your old man.”

  “I will.” I pat his hand, trying not to notice how loose his wedding ring hangs on his finger. “Maybe you need a bacon cheeseburger too?” I try to keep my voice cheerful.

  “Ugh. Not for me, sadly. The boss made us get health check-ups at work, and your dad’s cholesterol didn’t pass the muster. In fact the office is being put on a vegan diet until we get back on track.” He sips his orange juice and grins. “Apparently my hippie dippie boss is shocked to learn that computer programmers who sit on our asses all day eating Funyuns and mainlining Red Bull aren’t the healthiest specimens.”

  I stare at my juice glass and feel a stab in my heart. Mom would have never let this happen. She worried over Dad all the time.

  They say it’s supposed to get easier to get a grip on a person’s death the longer they’ve been gone, but sometimes it seems like the opposite is true. It’s like the more time that goes by without her here to take care of us, the more I realize how much we’re falling apart without her in our lives.

  “You okay?” Dad asks.

  I slap on a huge smile. “Yes!” I say, too enthusiastically.

  “I miss her too,” he says without missing a beat.

  “Dad—” I want to comfort him, tell him it will all be okay, but I can’t. I’m no authority on what’s okay or not okay, and a part of me feels like things will never be okay now that Mom isn’t here watching over us. So I just say, “I think she’d be proud of us.”

  He rubs a hand over his face wearily and laughs. “She’d say we’re right back where we were in college. We never had much then, you know. Your mom worked nights stocking shelves at this little grocery store while I was getting my master’s. When you were born, I’d have to bring you to some of my early classes so she could get a little rest.”

  “Really?” I ask, picturing my dad striding into the room with me snuggled in my stroller.

  “You were the belle of every class. I was the most popular guy on campus,” he says, his eyes glazing over at the memory. He traces the rim of his orange juice glass with his finger. “We were poor, but, man, we laughed all the time.”

  “We’ll laugh again,” I whisper, sliding a hand over his.

  He looks at me, blinking back tears, and nods. “We better. You know how your mother felt about sulking. That woman pretty much demanded everybody around her be happy all the time.” He clears his throat and lets his eyes drop to the woven placemat. “I feel like I’m letting her down. It was okay for me and her to live off Ramen and sleep on a futon in some little rattrap. But we were determined to do better for you. I can’t tell you how much I regret that you had to leave Mallory. A diploma from that school would have been your meal ticket to a great college. You were with a good, motivated crowd of girls, and they would have helped you as you
went on and lived your future.”

  “Dad,” I choke out. “Please. Don’t ever think that way. Sure, I miss Mallory, but I love it here. People have been nothing but welcoming. You know Mom always said, ‘There’s a million right ways to live a good life.’”

  “Your mom was a smart woman. She did say that, didn’t she?” He twirls his wedding ring on his finger. “I thought that was just her way of making herself feel better about marrying a computer nerd who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when every guy on campus was going crazy trying to catch her eye.”

  “Stop it,” I chide, kissing his forehead. “Did you know Mom used to sit by the window when you texted that you’d be home? She’d take her book and a cup of coffee to the window seat and just watch.” I sigh. “It was very romantic.”

  Dad stares at me, his eyes bright. “She did? I always thought it was so cute how she was right there waiting to kiss me the minute I got in the door.” He looks down at his battered wedding band. “God, I miss that woman.”

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders, kiss his cheek, and leave for school, trying to ignore my father’s soft sobs at the dining room table as I go.

  I drive to Eastside on autopilot and walk right past David and Lily, so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I swear I don’t even see them standing there.

  “What’s this mean, jellybean?” David asks, throwing his arms out at his sides. “No ‘hello’? Geez, Lily, I think I’d be offended, except I heard a secret…”

  Lily grabs David’s forearm as he leans against the lockers, his eyebrow cocked like he’s about to explode from holding back his news.

  “Sorry, guys. I had a ton on my mind this morning.”

  I twirl the combination lock and wonder if David has more dirt about which cheerleader is cheating on her football player boyfriend with some random basketball player or how much Melinda Diaz’s mother is spending on her custom-made winter formal dress.

  “I’m sure you did,” David drawls, examining his manicured nails. “I heard you were up very late last night. And you weren’t alone.”

  My fingers stop on the lock and my brain spazzes, totally blanking on my combination. “Um. What? Why? I wasn’t. What did you hear?” I sputter, sounding guilty to my own ears.