by S. Walden
“You have your own soul to nurture, Cadence,” LouAnn said. “And we’ll help you if you want.”
“What do you mean?” Cadence asked.
“We’ll be your little angels protecting you if you ever wanna come back to church,” Martha said.
“You can bring along your beau, too,” Marybeth offered. She glimpsed Mrs. Connelly who smiled sadly.
Cadence didn’t know what to say. She felt odd discussing Mark with these ladies. Everything about her history so far with him seemed messy and unacceptable.
“I’m so glad you’re with my son,” Mrs. Connelly said softly, noting the uncertainty on Cadence’s face—like she knew exactly what Cadence was thinking and wanted to squash the negative thoughts. “You couldn’t be more perfect for him.”
Cadence smiled. Mrs. Connelly’s words, her tone—they were much too sincere to be misinterpreted.
The ladies spent the afternoon trying their hardest to draw out as many details as possible about Cadence’s relationship with Mark. They peppered her with questions, but she was successful at dodging most. Mrs. Connelly tried to temper the ruthless interrogation, but the ladies wouldn’t have it. They had a right to know, Martha had said, and Cadence still couldn’t figure out that one.
Once everyone was gone, Cadence offered to help Mrs. Connelly clean up.
“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Connelly replied. “You’re my guest. And please, Cadence, call me Naomi.”
“I can’t do that,” Cadence said. “That’s disrespectful.”
“I don’t think it is at all. If I did, I wouldn’t invite you to call me Naomi.”
Cadence bit her lower lip before blurting, “I just can’t! That’s not how I was raised.”
Mrs. Connelly smiled. “For heaven’s sake,” she mumbled. “Then call me Ms. Naomi. Better?”
Cadence grinned and nodded.
Mrs. Connelly sat back in her seat and studied Cadence’s face. She could tell Cadence wanted to talk about something, and she waited patiently for her to open the conversation. She already knew what it was about.
“Are you really okay with me dating Mark?” Cadence asked. She averted her eyes, fingering the napkin still in her lap.
“Very okay with it,” Mrs. Connelly replied.
“My parents aren’t,” Cadence said softly.
“I know.”
Cadence looked up and shrugged. “I know we should have waited until I graduated, but I still think my parents would have gotten angry.”
“I do, too,” Mrs. Connelly replied.
“Are you embarrassed about the way we met?”
Mrs. Connelly chuckled. “No, honey. And what does it matter what I think anyway?”
“Because I want you to like me.” She wasn’t even bothered that she bared her honesty in such a vulnerable way. For some reason, she trusted that Mark’s mother wouldn’t abuse it.
“Cadence, I like you very much. I mean, I don’t know you that well, but I’m confident that’ll change as we spend more time together. But I already know I like you very much because you make my son deliriously happy.”
Cadence smiled and then her face clouded over. “He has things about his past that he won’t share with me.”
Mrs. Connelly looked concerned. “I can’t tell you those things, honey.”
“I know. I wasn’t asking you to, but I wish he’d open up to me.”
“He will.”
“When?”
“I suspect sooner rather than later. My question is, will you listen and be understanding when he does?”
Cadence’s heart skipped a beat. What the hell was in his past?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Honey, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I know it’s southern and polite and all that, but we’re not going to have that kind of relationship. At least, I don’t want to have that kind of relationship. ‘Ma’am’ puts us at a distance, don’t you think?”
Cadence nodded. “Ms. Naomi?”
“Hmm?”
“I miss my family. I miss my parents even though dad hit me and mom walked away from me. Is there something wrong with me that I miss the people who hurt me?”
Mark’s mother stood up and walked around the table to Cadence. She took her arm gently and pulled her to her feet. The two women walked arm in arm towards the house.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Cadence. They’re your parents. And up until a year ago, you had a good relationship with them. It’s normal to miss that. It’s normal to grieve for them.”
Cadence listened.
“I cannot take your mother’s place, but I’ll be the best substitute I can. If you ever need anything. If you want to talk. If you just need someone to listen, I hope you know you can call me.”
“Thank you.”
They reached the back door, and Mrs. Connelly unlinked her arm to open it. Cadence suppressed the urge to reach for her. She didn’t want the connection broken. She felt instantly cold as soon as Mrs. Connelly was no longer touching her.
“Your parents are wrong, honey,” Mrs. Connelly said, ushering her in. “I think they’ll come to this realization, but I think it’ll take time. Your father has too much pride. Your mother has no backbone.”
“Did Mark tell you—”
“He told me enough. Please don’t be upset with him,” she replied.
“I’m not.”
“What you have to decide is what you’ll do once they come knocking for forgiveness.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Cadence thought back to Fanny’s advice in the car on their way home from graduation many months ago: “Be quick to forgive. Slow to anger.” But was it wise to forgive her father for hitting her? Was it prudent to forgive her mother for walking away?
“You need a laugh,” Mrs. Connelly said, interrupting Cadence’s thoughts.
“I do?”
Mrs. Connelly chuckled and led Cadence to the living room.
“I have all kinds of pictures to show you.”
Cadence brightened. “Of Mark?”
“Oh yes. I’ll show you his childhood, and I’ll let him take care of college and beyond.”
Suddenly, her parents were unimportant. She wanted to focus on Mark’s childhood instead. She and Mrs. Connelly laughed long and loud into the evening, perusing photo album after photo album of a little bug collector, and scientist, and skateboarder, and swimmer. Mrs. Connelly shared stories that Cadence knew would mortify Mark. She tucked them safely inside her heart. They didn’t need to be discussed when she returned home. She was quite content to have them for herself—little treasures that acted like puzzle pieces. She started fitting them together in her mind, happy to see a more complete picture of the man she loved.
“So how was it?” Mark asked Cadence when she arrived home. “I thought for sure I’d hear from you.”
Cadence grinned. “It was fantastic.” She plopped down beside him on the couch.
“Fantastic?” He looked genuinely shocked and confused.
“Mmhmm,” she replied.
“Um, lemme get this straight: Hanging out with my mother and her friends was fantastic? I’m just not sure I heard you right.”
“You heard me right. Fantastic.”
Mark shook his head and chuckled. “All right then.”
“They’re funny,” Cadence explained. “Plus, they’re sweet.”
“I notice you gravitate towards older people,” Mark said.
“Do I?”
“Well, you made friends with Fanny,” he replied. “Avery is no typical nineteen-year-old. I mean sure, she’s still incredibly immature in some ways, but for the most part, she acts older than her years.”
Cadence nodded, listening.
“You wanted to meet my mother’s friends. Regardless of how scared you were, you still wanted to hang out with them.”
Cadence screwed up her face. “You’re right. Why do I like hanging with older people?”
Mark was quiet for a moment. And then he lightly smacked
her thigh once realization dawned. “I know.”
“Share.”
“You’re curious. You constantly want to learn things. I think you’re hoping that if you spend your time with older people, they’ll teach you stuff. You’re like a sponge,” he said.
“Hmm, I never thought of it like that,” Cadence said.
“I like you that way,” Mark went on. “If you weren’t curious about things or didn’t care to learn, I don’t think I could be with you.”
“I don’t think I’d like myself very much,” Cadence added. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not a sponge with everything,” she said. “Remember calculus? I think I stared off into space more than I paid attention in class.”
Mark chuckled. “Well, that’s because you knew I’d go out of my way to help you. Get you caught up.”
“Not at first I didn’t,” Cadence pointed out. She took his hand.
“Well, maybe not at first. But Cadence, come on. When I think back to it, my feelings for you were blatantly obvious.”
“No, they weren’t,” she argued.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Hmm. Well, how are they now?” he asked.
“Blatantly obvious.”
He smiled.
“I gravitated to you as well,” Cadence said. “You didn’t include yourself in that list.”
“You’re right. I forgot all about me.”
“I think I’ve learned a lot from you,” she went on. “I know I’m much younger than you, but I hope that maybe you’ve learned some things from me.”
“You have no idea the things I learn from you. It’s constant. Every day. How to love better. Being more open-minded about certain things.”
“Certain things like what?”
“Your taste in books, for one.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I prefer darker literature. I like dystopian reads. But I pulled one of yours the other day and have been reading it between my classes.”
Cadence grinned. “Which one?”
“The Magic of Ordinary Days,” he replied.
She smacked his arm. “Get out! That’s, like, a total chick book!”
“I know. But I saw you reading it a few weeks ago and thought I’d give it a try. Only fair. I make you listen to my music.”
“What do you think about the book?”
“I think—” He paused, deciding how best to say it. “—it’s very fitting for what’s going on in your life right now. Did you read it on purpose?”
She nodded.
“That’s what I love so much about you,” Mark said. “Everything you do is thoughtful. Because I think you’re just one of those people who constantly yearns for understanding, and you’ll keep seeking it until you find it. You do that with your books. You do that with the people you surround yourself with. You’re a lifelong learner, I’d say.”
“There’s a lot to discover.”
He laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“Are you still reading the book?” she asked.
“I’m almost finished. And it’s really good.”
“Thanks for doing that,” Cadence said.
“Oh, I plan to try out your flat iron next.”
She burst into a fit of giggles.
“No?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t advise it.”
He put his arm around her.
“I wanna try out my new birth control,” Cadence said suddenly.
“Oh yeah?”
“I went to the university clinic at the beginning of this week. I decided to go on birth control,” she said, playing with his fingers.
“Any particular reason why?” He suppressed the urge to yank his hand away. She was tickling him.
“I’m tired of condoms. They’re, like, for people who have promiscuous sex.”
He laughed. “That, or people who wanna play it safe.”
“I think they’re gross.”
He refrained from reminding her about the semen that ran from her body in the secrecy of his classroom closet. When they didn’t use a condom.
“Should I have discussed this with you first?” Cadence asked.
“No. It’s your body,” Mark said.
“Well, you use it.”
He laughed hard. “You bet I do.”
He grabbed her hand and hoisted her up. He ignored the little voice going off in the back of his head saying, “Andy used birth control and look what happened?” He didn’t want to hear it, mostly because he wanted to recapture that feeling of making love to Cadence without a condom as a barrier. Yeah, it was a thin barrier, but a barrier nonetheless. He wanted total physical connection, so he smothered the voice with his own: “Birth control is 99.9 percent effective.”
Cadence grinned. “Um. Yes it is.”
“Did I just say that out loud?” Mark asked.
She giggled. “Yep.”
Mark shook his head and led her to the bedroom.
“We won’t have a repeat of earlier this year,” Cadence said reassuringly. “But if by some freak accident we do, you’re not allowed to break up with me.”
He scooped her up and tossed her on the bed. She squealed.
“Oh, I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he said, eyeing her like a delicious dinner. He was suddenly ravenous. “I wonder what you taste like today, Cadence.”
She blushed. “What do you mean?”
He climbed on top of her and slipped his hand between her legs. “You always taste like what you’ve recently eaten.”
“What?!”
“You do.”
“Oh my God!” She buried her face in her hands.
“Why’s that embarrassing? I love it. It’s like a game. Figure out what Cadence had for lunch.”
She laughed in her hands.
“May I?”
She spread her fingers and peeked at him through the cracks.
“So what do you get if you win?” she asked.
“A tasty meal.”
“Mark!”
“Mark!” he mocked, then kissed her hands. “I can’t wait to hear that when I’m seventy. ‘Mark’!”
She dropped her hands. “You think we’ll still be doing this at seventy?”
They stared at each other, grimacing.
“And there goes my hard-on,” he said. He rolled them over, securing his arms tightly around her back.
“You won’t find me sexy at seventy?” she asked.
“You’ll be sexy forever. Me, on the other hand? First off, I’ll be eighty. Second, that’s old as dirt. Third—”
“You’ll be young forever,” she interrupted. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Yeah, but the idea of a wrinkly old penis . . .”
“Mark!!” Cadence buried her face in his shoulder and laughed hysterically.
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Don’t!” she cried. “Don’t say another word!”
“This sex is ruined, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Totally.”
“Hmm.”
They were silent for a time. Mark rubbed Cadence’s back while she nuzzled his neck.
“Wanna play Mario Kart?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He’d find out what she ate later.
He felt reckless, but he didn’t care. She was a magnet, and her pull was stronger than gravity. He was certain of it because he walked towards her against his will. He had no control over it. One foot in front of the other. Right. Left. Maybe she wasn’t a magnet. Maybe she was a little witch, and she’d cast a spell on him, forcing his compliance though he was conscious of the dangers. She’d destroy him, and he thought he wouldn’t mind.
Turn around! his brain cried, but he ignored it and placed his lunch bag on the table.
He watched her in his periphery. She stiffened in her chair, and he thought she already knew. That quickly. Damn. Wom
en were perceptible.
He chatted pleasantly with two other students before addressing Cadence. He wouldn’t ignore her. She was, after all, the sole reason he sat at this particular lunch table.
“Hi, Cadence.”
She jumped in her seat. “Hey.”
“You doing all right?” he asked. He decided to have a little fun with her. She was obviously flustered. He wanted to remind her that she was the one who compelled him to take a seat beside her. Remember that spell you cast, he wanted to say?
“Just fine,” she replied. She twirled her fork in her mashed potatoes.
“Not hungry?”
She tipped the bowl and looked straight at him. “Does this look appetizing to you?”
Not in the least, he thought. But you sure as hell do.
“Not so much,” he said instead. “You wanna split my sandwich?”
Was that a ridiculous suggestion? He thought it must have been because she looked put out. Not offended or disgusted. Just put out.
She shook her head.
“You probably need to eat something. Helps the brain work better. Plus, you’re really tiny,” he said.
Her eyes went wide, and he suppressed a grin.
“Are you taking good care of my handkerchief?” he asked.
She glared at him, and this time he let the grin creep over his lips. He imagined she caught on to his game by now. He wanted her to. He knew it was unwise to tease her so soon. He felt the vulnerability radiating from her tiny frame. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of it. She was just so damn cute. Couldn’t she understand by now that he wanted her to have his handkerchief forever?
“Can I give it back to you now?” she asked, and his heart sank.
“No, I was just asking if you’re taking care of it,” he replied. He needed her to. It was a substitute for his heart. Yeah. He’d already given his heart to this girl. He couldn’t make sense of it, and he quit trying. It wasn’t love yet. He wasn’t that foolish. But he wanted to nurture his blossoming attraction, and he wanted her to as well.
“It’s in my pocket,” she said.
“Good.” He liked that idea—that she carried it around with her. If she would have said, “It’s in my locker,” he would have been disappointed.
Her agitation grew until she finally blurted, “Why are you sitting here?”
