by Lucy March
I gave a weak half smile and for a moment he hesitated, then went upstairs to pack while I stared out the window and tried to remember what it had been like, all those eons ago, when I’d been in control of my life.
* * *
By the time we got back to my place, it was past one. I put Nemo back in his glass bowl and went about making us a pot of coffee.
“Really?” Leo said, leaning over the counter to stare at Nemo. “Liv did this? She had magic powers all along?”
“They were latent, apparently,” I said. “Even she didn’t know about it until last year.”
He shook his head and straightened. “Wild, huh? I mean … life.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it life, exactly,” I said over the coffee grinder. “She’s got a bunny made out of a red ceramic mug. One of those Japanese-folded cranes that flies blind into walls. Betty has a bird made out of a square of sparkly linoleum in her apartment. And of course, there’s Nemo, but…” I dumped the grinds into the filter basket. “I don’t know if they think or feel or anything. Liv treats them like pets, but I don’t know. I’d put it somewhere between a pet rock and a cat. Probably closer to a pet rock.”
Leo watched Nemo swim back and forth for a bit then said, “Whatever it is, it’s a miracle.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I slid into the seat in my kitchenette, and he sat opposite me. We sat in silence for a while as the coffeemaker gurgled.
“So…,” I said.
“So…,” he said.
Gurgle gurgle gurgle.
“Tell me what it is,” he said finally. “You know, that makes you spark the magic.”
I sighed, relieved to have some kind of conversational ground to stand on. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s an emotion, of some kind, but they’re all bundled together with you.”
“All right,” he said and leaned forward. “What do you feel when you’re with me?”
I closed my eyes, trying to sort it all out. “Pain. Anger. Hurt.” I swallowed. “Desire.” I opened my eyes. “Love.”
There was a tense silence for a few moments, and when he opened his mouth to speak, I held up one hand.
“Don’t take that the wrong way,” I said quickly. “You and me, we are off the table. But if this is going to work, I’m going to need to be honest, so I’m being honest.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Loving you doesn’t mean that all this…” I motioned awkwardly between us. “… is going to be a thing again.”
He nodded. “You got it.”
“As soon as I don’t need you anymore, the second I have control over this thing, you’re going back to South Dakota.”
He watched me for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Look, if you don’t want”—he mocked my awkward hand gesture—“this, then okay, I accept that. You get to dictate whether or not I’m part of your life, but you don’t get to dictate where I live.”
My body stiffened. “What? Why would you stay? What could there possibly be for you here?”
He kept his eyes on mine. “Home.”
“Yeah, my home. You left. I got it in the divorce.”
“I have a house here, I have friends here. You always wanted to get out, go somewhere new.” He made a shooing motion with his fingers. “So, you go.”
I stared at him, incensed. “Exactly where the hell do you get off, telling me where I can and can’t live?”
“Apparently, the same place you get off, telling me where I can and can’t live. If I want to come home, I’ll come home, and you don’t get to say a goddamn word about it.”
I started to sputter, I was so mad, and then the chime dinged on the coffee and Leo’s expression transitioned easily from angry to perfectly calm.
“Cream, two sugars?” he said, and pushed himself up from the table. Before I could answer, he said, “Oh, and I think you can scratch anger off your list. I didn’t see so much as a wisp of smoke.”
I blinked twice, trying to make my way back from wanting to strangle him to understanding what he’d just done. I glanced down at my hands, and he was right: There wasn’t a trace of any red, glowy smoke. I took a deep breath and tried to relax as he set the coffee down in front of me, and I stared down into my cup.
“I take it black now,” was all I could think to say. Without a word, he swapped my mug with his.
“No, you don’t have to do that.” I reached to switch the cups back. He pulled his mug away.
“You like it black, take the black,” he said, then took a sip of the one with cream and sugar and cringed. “Fuck, that’s awful.” He dumped it out in the sink, rinsed the mug, and poured himself another cup.
“So, you can say ‘fuck’ now, huh?”
“Hmmm?” He turned to face me, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Oh. Yeah. I can curse, I can get drunk, I can fornicate—”
“Fornicate?” I laughed, and he allowed a small smile.
“It’s a church word. Some things get kind of drilled in.” He sat down opposite me, all business. “So, anger’s off the list. We have to try to isolate pain, hurt, love, and desire now.” He sipped from his mug. “Not sure how to do those, exactly.”
“Pain and hurt are very close,” I said carefully. “So are love and desire.”
He met my eyes, then said, “Well, let’s start with pain and hurt, then.”
I felt a twinge of nervousness creep down my back, making me antsy. “Okay, but…” I glanced around. “I don’t want to burn this place down. It’s all I have. That and a garden shed out in the clearing. I can’t afford to lose either of those.”
I got up, pulled open one of the countless little latched cabinets that the ’Bago had for storage, and pulled out a sleeping bag. I went to the front door and stepped off my cement stoop, then knelt and reached under the ’Bago to where I’d tucked the exterior light switch. I hit it, and the string of lights I’d lined the side of the ’Bago with lit up. They were just simple lights, each covered with a tiny tomato paste can that I’d painted and punched with holes myself, but I liked the patterns they set on the side of the ’Bago, and the soft way they lit the front.
“Come on,” I said to Leo as he stared at the lights, smiling. “This way.”
The night air was warm on my skin, and it had a calming effect, which probably worked against where we were planning to go, but still: I liked it. I led Leo to the small clearing of lawn I kept maintained just off the front of the ’Bago. I unrolled the sleeping bag and spread it out over the space, then sat down. Leo waited until I had seated myself, then handed me my coffee mug and sat down opposite me. This was better. There was enough light that we could see each other, but still enough darkness to hide in, at least a little.
“Okay,” he said. “Pain and hurt, then?”
I held the coffee mug in my hands. “This thing is microwave-safe, so … it should be okay if I start to burn it, right?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s all going to be okay.”
“Don’t comfort me,” I said. “Comfort isn’t on the list.”
“Right.” There was a long moment of silence, and just as I was about to give him a nudge, he said, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“It’s gotta be done,” I said, my voice cracking a little.
“I just … I want to tell you that I’m sorry, not make you feel worse.”
I took a breath, and thought of it like the dentist. No one likes it, but you suck it up and push through because it needs to be done. I cupped my hands around the mug and spoke.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I could see enough to know that Leo raised his head to look at me, but not so much that I could decipher his expression. I didn’t need to; I heard the tension in his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“I was awful to you.” I lowered my head, staring at the mug. There was definite pain, but so far, no smoke. Of cour
se, we’d barely gotten started. I took a deep breath and pushed at my own soft spot. “I was … mean. I screamed at you. I threw things at you.”
“I deserved it.” His voice was quiet, and while he might have been working the moment to bring me back to all that pain and hurt, I didn’t think that was the case. If I had money to bet, I would have put it on the fact that he was right there with me. “Stacy, I swear, there is nothing in my life I regret more than leaving you like that.”
“You should have left,” I said, verbalizing the thought for the first time. “You saw me for what I really was.”
His head tilted a bit to the side, but his voice came out steely, not confused. “You said that the other day, that I saw you. What does that mean?”
I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat. I hated this, hated every moment, mostly because it was all stuff that wasn’t going to get better for talking about it. Shit is shit, and no matter how much you talk about it, you’re not going to make it into anything but shit. Still, I had to woman up and keep going.
There was science to be done.
“It’s … me,” I said carefully, working hard to keep my voice even. “I’m ugly.”
“Stacy, what the…?”
“Not physically, okay. I know I’m pretty physically. But inside, where it matters. I’m an ugly person.”
He huffed in the darkness. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, come on. You saw me. When I was screaming, when I was throwing things at you … I saw the look on your face.” My voice caught, and I took a breath to keep things steady. I knew I was supposed to give in to the emotion, that was the whole point, but you had to ease into these things.
“I was upset,” he said, “but not at you. At me.”
“But a little at me, too, right?” I said, meeting his eye. “I scared you.”
He went silent, and I could see from his expression that I was right, so I kept talking to keep him from trying to make me feel better. The point of this was specifically not to make me feel better.
“When I get angry, I get ugly. I know that. And once someone has seen that … I mean, how can I expect them to want to be around me?” I blinked hard, squeezing the tears out silently but not swiping at them. Leo would have seen me swipe. It was possible that in the darkness, I could get away with the tears alone if I just didn’t let them seep into my voice.
“You’re wrong.” Leo’s voice was soft, but with steely undertones. “I didn’t leave because I saw you for what you really are. I know exactly what you are. I’ve always known.”
“Stop it,” I said. “Don’t try to make me feel better. You’re ruining the science.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better,” he said. “I’m trying to make you hear the damn truth.”
I looked up at him, surprised by the harshness in his tone.
“I did a terrible thing to you,” he said. “I was confused and drunk and I slept with her and it was awful. I wanted to talk to my dad about it, so he could tell me what to do, but I couldn’t. So I talked to you. And yeah, there was something honorable about confessing and living with the consequences of what I’d done, but there was also something incredibly selfish about it, too. It made me feel better, and it made you…”
“A monster,” I said.
“No,” he said firmly. “Listen to me, please. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I swallowed again, took a deep breath. All I had to do was keep my voice even, under control. “I saw your face, Leo. I remember it, every day, the way you looked at me…”
My voice squeaked. Goddamnit. I swiped at my eyes.
“Stacy.” Leo moved across the space between us to sit by my side. “Look, your hands are fine. There’s no smoke. Let’s pull up from this a little, okay?”
“I don’t blame you,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. “You were right to leave me. You should have left me. I would have left me.”
“No.” He put his arms around me. “That’s not how it was.”
“It’s okay, really.” I pushed back from him so I could face him. “It’s like what you said when you first came back. I’m hard to reach when I’m mad.” I took in a stuttering breath, remembering how calmly I had taken that when he’d said it, and how many times it had repeated in my head since.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s just who I am,” I said, the words coming in bursts over hard sobs. “It’s … really … okay. I’ve … accepted … it…”
“Stop it.”
I felt a shock when his hands clamped down on either side of my face, turning me to look at him, even though it was too dark and my eyes too full of tears for me to really see him. I could feel his breath coming in hot puffs on my face, though, and I could feel the heat coming from his hands.
“You’re spinning, and it’s all bullshit, and you need to stop,” he said. “There’s no smoke on your hands. This isn’t helping you control the magic. It’s not doing you any good, and you won’t listen to me telling you you’re wrong, so stop. Please, stop.”
I felt the whine escape from deep inside, coming out like the whistle of a teakettle, releasing the steam that had built up there for so long, and I collapsed against Leo’s chest, sobbing. He pulled me into his lap and held me to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried all over him.
“It’s not true,” he said. “None of it’s true. Please tell me that somewhere inside, you know that.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just held on to him while he smoothed my hair and rubbed my back, until I finally fell into darkness, cradled and safe in his arms.
Chapter 12
I woke up the next morning to the sound of birds, and the feel of a soft breeze on my skin. I was on my side, my back shielded by Leo, who spooned me from behind, one arm draped around my waist in sleep. I felt the heat of his hand on my lower stomach, the pressure of his morning erection against my backside, and tiny ripples of desire coursed within me.
I opened my eyes, saw the daylight, and sighed. Best to save the science for later. Besides, a morning erection was just biology. It didn’t mean anything other than that Leo was a normal guy waking up next to a girl. Or, you know, just a normal guy waking up.
I shifted under his arm and put a little space between us, watching his face as he drifted from sleep into consciousness. He opened his eyes a little, smiled, and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
“Good morning,” he said.
I lay stiffly on my back, staring up at the morning sky as the ripples in my stomach became crashing waves. I considered for a moment the luscious possibility of rolling over on top of him and taking full advantage of his morning condition, but at the same time that the idea warmed me in all the right places, it also scared me, and I wasn’t ready to face that fear.
“It’s time to get up,” I said. “I have to check on my mother.”
Leo groaned and flipped onto his back as well. “Why’d you have to bring her into it?”
I sat up. “I also have to flip Desmond over and see what’s crawling underneath.”
He opened one eye. “Your mother and Desmond?” He reached down and adjusted the crotch of his jeans. “Yeah, that pretty much takes care of that.”
“Should I mention that Nick is probably on a nude beach in Spain right now?”
Leo laughed. “Now you’re just being mean.” He caught my eye and his smile faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … you’re not…”
“Oh, dear God, are you going to tiptoe around my tender feelings now? Because if you start with that shit, seriously, I’m gonna hit you in the head with a shovel and bury you out back where no one will ever find you.”
Something in his eyes cooled, and he looked almost disappointed. “Nope. Not gonna start with that shit.”
“Good.” I stood up, yanking my jeans up on my waist and pulling my shirt down. “I’m gonna go take a shower and wash off the g
ross. If you want, you can do the same and then I figure, we’ll leave about…” I glanced at my watch. “Ten-ish?”
He sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “You’re inviting me to go with you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Unless you’ve got something better to do.”
“No,” he said, smiling. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
I crossed my arms over my middle, feeling a rush of comfortable antagonism. “What are you smiling about?”
He gave a snort of laughter, then got up and shook out the sleeping bag. “Nothing.”
I picked the coffee mugs up off the ground as he folded the sleeping bag and started to roll it up. “What?”
“Nothing. I just thought you were going to argue with me.”
“About what?”
“About me going with you today.”
“I don’t care if you go with me today,” I said. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Then, fine. What’s the problem?”
“There is no problem.” He huffed in frustration. “I was just a little surprised that the morning was starting without a fight, and now somehow, it’s a fight. You’re like a Jedi Master.”
I laughed in mock offense, enjoying the feel of being on familiar ground again. “I see we’re done tiptoeing around my tender feelings.”
“Yeah, we’re done.” He shook his head, laughed again, and tucked the rolled sleeping bag under his arm. With his other arm, he motioned toward the ’Bago. “Ladies first.”
“You’re such a baby,” I said, starting toward the front door of the ’Bago. “That wasn’t even a fight.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, noncommittally.
“I’m serious. If that was a fight, I would have bounced this coffee mug off your cranium.”
“Okay.”
I stepped up on the cement stoop, then turned to face him. “I’m a dangerous woman, you know. You shouldn’t push me.”
He stepped up onto the cement block below where I was standing, his body close enough for me to feel the heat coming from him, and the warm ripples inside me began to work their way ever downward.
