by Mj Fields
“You have fun the other night?”
She laughs, “Why?”
“Just making conversation.”
“You jealous?”
“No, Natasha, I’m not.”
“Then don’t ask.” She starts to stand and I reach out and grab her knee. “What?”
“Just stay.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “He likes me, you know.”
“I could play dumb and ask who, but that would be senseless.”
“You know how many times he’s asked me out, Oliver?”
I don’t answer, I just look at her.
“Every week since I’ve been here. And every week I’ve told him no.” When I don’t reply, she continues. “I won’t keep telling him no.”
“I never asked you to.”
She looks away and lies on her side next to Maisie, her back to me. “He’s never treated me like I didn’t matter.”
That pisses me off, but I won’t fight with her.
“Close your eyes, Natasha, and picture your wedding day. He’s wearing a suit and tie, the smile, and imagining the night ahead of you. How he will touch you, where he will begin. He’s smiling at you adoringly as you, the woman he loves, walks down the aisle toward him.”
She rolls to her back and looks at me.
“Now picture him in his entirety, his past, his hobbies, habits, friends, the things he thinks are important, and think about living for him for the rest of your life.”
She scowls.
“Not only are we wired to want what we can’t have, but we’re wired to want what we really don’t want.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Every girl wants to fix a broken boy, thinking because she did that, he will love her forever.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“For a boy? Nothing, I guess, but a man should want to be whole before he devotes his life to a woman, if he truly loves her.”
She rolls back to her side and snuggles up to Maisie.
I watch as her breathing evens out, and when I know she’s asleep, I stand, lean over and breathe in an addiction I have yet to overcome.
Two weeks later, I’m sitting next to Maisie’s bed watching her as she sleeps, waiting for her to wake so she can eat. When she opens her eyes and I tell her it’s time to eat, she closes them again.
“Ollie, you’re here?”
“Yes, Maisie.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Ollie?”
“Do you remember my Joshua?” Joshua was her late husband’s name and who Bass and Angela named their son after. We’d never met him.
“I remember how much he loves you, Maisie.”
She smiles.
“And in case you didn’t know,” I close my eyes and scrunch my eyes together, “I love you too.”
“I know, Ollie. I know.”
Maisie didn’t wake up after that, and that damn dog yipped until I put him up next to her. He snuggled against her slept until the coroner came to pronounce her dead.
By the time all the arrangements were made four days later, that dog died, too. He’s to be buried with Maisie, next to her husband.
I drank for four days. The day before her funeral, I stayed sober because I needed to make a decision with a clear head.
And I did.
35
Natasha
Maisie’s funeral was already planned out, by her, of course. She didn’t want a big “to do.” She wanted those closest to her together to celebrate her life, and to toast her reunion with the man who loved her regardless of color, social status, and the fact that their love was forbidden by all… it didn’t matter then and still didn’t now.
I cried my eyes out on the flight home and when I walked into her house, ready to celebrate as she intended, you could have cut the tension with a knife.
Bass and Oliver stayed away from one another and Mom tried her best to carry out Maisie’s wishes.
We rode together in a limo to the cemetery where Oliver read the verses she requested, Corinthians 13: 1-13 and when he has to stop, I’m thankful I have on sunglasses, so he can’t see my tears. And at her request, he closes with Psalms 23. All while we stood on the lawn looking at a headstone with her and her husband’s names on it.
I held Joshua, while mom held Bass, and we all listened to Oliver.
As soon as we got back in the limo, Bass and Oliver blatantly glared at one another.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked, “What’s going on?”
Oliver spoke first, “Nothing.”
And Bass followed it up with, “Oliver is leaving de la Porte.”
“What? Why?”
“Leave it alone, Bass,” Oliver warned.
“He’s going back to the desert. He’s reenlisted.”
“What? Why would you do that, Oliver?” I question.
“I didn’t reenlist, I signed a government contract to help out my old unit. I did it because they need me.”
“We need you, Oliver! We do,” Bass implores him.
“Bass,” Mom whispers trying to calm him.
“No, Ang. No, he is making a mistake. He’s going on a fucking suicide mission.”
“It’s no suicide mission, it’s to help out my brothers.”
“I’m your fucking brother, Oliver. Me. You’re fucked up over Maisie. You’re fucked up in the head, and if you don’t tell them, and this doesn’t go away, I will.”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life. And let me tell you something, you say otherwise and you and I, we’re done.”
“Why?” I can’t hold back the tears. “Why, Oliver?”
“Because, I’m needed there.”
“You’re needed here.” I clench my chest because the pain is nearly unbearable.
He nods. “I can’t be here right now.”
Bass is so angry he’s shaking. “Because you’re fucked up over Maisie. Because you’re still–”
“God damn it, Bass, leave it alone!”
Once we get back to the house, Oliver immediately walks into Maisie’s house and Bass begins to storm after him.
“No.” I stand in front of him. “Just leave him alone, let him get through this and maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“Natasha,” Mom whispers.
“Just leave him alone.” I pull away from her and run into the house to find Oliver.
I take the stairs two at a time and run to his room where he’s packing a duffle bag.
“Tell me why? Tell me and I’ll stop doing whatever it is–”
“Natasha, I need to do this for me. It has nothing to do with de la Porte. And of all fucking days–”
“He loves you, Oliver. He doesn’t want to lose you. Can’t you see that you’re loved?”
He turns around and leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, and he sighs. “This had nothing to do with Bass, or Maisie, it has everything to do with what I need right now to grow.”
“To grow? You’ve grown. You’ve sacrificed, you’ve–”
“Natasha,” he sighs. “It’s not a sacrifice to serve my country, to help protect its people. It’s an honor.”
“Okay, okay, it’s an honor. But so is being the CEO of de la Porte, isn’t it? It means he trusts you to protect his world, his family, his–”
“Natasha–” he interrupts, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“And what if you grow, whatever that means, and then you come back and then decide you need to grow again? I mean, will it ever be enough?”
“It’s hard to explain, but it’s who I am. And if he loves me, he’d respect that. Right now, he’s pissing all over something I love.”
“You love Maisie, but you could never say it. You… you…you.” I snap my mouth shut to stop the stuttering and take in a deep breath. “How can you not tell her, but you can love a country and say it? I don’t understand, Oliver! Is it because–?”
> “The night Maisie passed, I said it, and she said she knew.” He looks down. “Some things you don’t have to say, Natasha, because they just are. And some people are drawn to protecting and serving.”
“Well, then you leave, and I swear to God I’m going to be out of control, Oliver. I’m going to taunt her, I’m going to poke the bear, I swear it. I’m going to–”
He smiles sadly. “Poking a dead bear isn’t really unsafe. Someone made sure she was ruined. I can guess who that was. Better yet, I can show you in a digital trail.”
“But you can’t, because you don’t work for de la Porte anymore.”
“Three months, Natasha. I’m taking a three month leave to do what I need to do.”
“And when you return, what if they don’t hire you back?”
“Legally, that would be a problem. But I wouldn’t push it that far. If he decides to do that, then that’s cool.”
“And what will you do for the rest of your life, huh?”
He waves his hand around the room. “Live the eternal summer. Enjoy what Maisie left me. Carry on her legacy. Or maybe work at the golden arches.”
“Do you hate me so much that you’d rather face the possibility of death to avoid me?”
“I can assure you I’m not going to be facing death.”
“But you hate me.”
“No, Natasha, I don’t hate you. Not at all.”
I cover my face with my hands and try not to let my emotions cause me to lose it completely. “Please don’t do this. I beg you, please don’t.”
When I feel his arms surround me, the inevitable happens, I lose it.
“Shhh, things will be fine, just like that damn song says.”
I wrap my arms around him and fall.
I fall apart.
I fall into despair.
I fall deeper in love.
I fall… I just fall.
“I just want you to know, I love you.”
His body stiffens, but he doesn’t let go.
More tears pour down my face and I wait for him relax, to tell me he feels the same, to say…. Something, anything.
He doesn’t.
Stepping back, I slap the tears from my face and take in several deep breaths so that when I speak, it’s clear.
“When you walk out that door, I give you every dream I ever dreamed, every wish I ever wished, every prayer I have ever prayed, they all go with you. I don’t want them anymore. I won’t want you ever again. But you take them, you fucking take them, Oliver, and you be happy.”
He looks shocked at my outburst, but like all expressions of his, it flips to an unwritten page in the book of Oliver, a book I’m just never going to get a chance to truly read.
“That’s my going away present for you, Oliver. That, and the burden you can carry caused by loving me. Because you may be able to fool yourself, but you don’t fool me. You breathed life into me, made me believe I was so strong, beautiful even. Then, you stole it back.”
“Natasha.” His tone is full of authority.
“Fuck you for not seeing me as anyone else but me! I’m not Grace!”
“I’m well aware of that.” He gives me a look of faint amusement.
“I’m not a toy!”
“I never even opened the box and tried to play–”
“You bastard.” I lunge at him, and beat my hands against his chest. Then I jump back, and I curse myself for striking out at him. When I turn to run, his arms catch me and he pulls my back to his chest.
I cover my face and beg through tears, “Just let me go. I’m sorry, I’m so–”
“Shh,” His body shakes against mine and I start to look behind me at him. He puts his forehead to the back of my head and his voice shakes when he whispers, “Don’t.”
“I’m so sorry.” I sniff.
“I know, and so am I.”
“Then don’t go, Oliver, just don’t go. I promise I will stop doing whatever–”
“This isn’t about you, Natasha, this is something I need to do. This is about me. I’m apologize if it hurts you, I truly do.”
I grab his arms and squeeze them, and he inhales a deep breath.
“What if I never see you again, Oliver?”
“I’m confident that’s not going to happen.”
“Then why?”
“Everything happens for a reason.”
“God, I hate that.”
I feel pressure at the top of my head. I know it’s his lips and then he inhales. My body relaxes against his and then I feel his do the same. “I’m a firm believer in it.”
“It brings me comfort to know that everything happens for a reason, too, Oliver. But just this once, I would like to be let in on the reason.”
His silent chuckle reverberates against my back. “Wish I could clear that up for you.”
I let out a held breath and whisper, “I think you’re the only person who can.”
“You gotta walk before you crawl, chew before you swallow, and you have to know the answers yourself before give them to someone else.”
“What are you searching for, Oliver?”
When he turns me around, I look up at him as he studies my face. I expect his gaze to land on my scar, but it doesn’t. He looks from one eye to the next, over and over.
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Well, I know that blue eyes are from dreamers and drifters, and brown eyes are grounding, but I just can’t figure the color of yours out.”
“They’re green.”
“They’re not just green, they’re aspen.”
“Then question answered.”
He leans down, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead on mine and whispers, “Not yet it isn’t.”
“So, you’re going to war in search of the question you have about my eye color?”
“I am.” His lips touch my forehead.
“That’s ridiculous.” And so heartbreakingly beautiful.
“I’ve been through hell for less, war is a walk in the park.”
“Oliver?” I sigh when his lips travel down the side of my face. My head tilts back as they continue down my neck. When the tip of his tongue travels across my collarbone, I push my chest against his and whimper at the feel as they harden against the fabric between us. He sprinkles kisses up the side of my neck and he nips at my ear. I hear his breaths become more labored and less controlled and when his knee pushes against my center, everything inside of me quivers.
I open my eyes when his kisses cease and his forehead comes to rest on mine. The way he looks at me is full of undeniable lust.
“I want–”
His finger touches my lip. “Shh. I know.”
My hands capture his and I kiss his finger, like he did mine at the club, I lick it and then I wrap my lips around it and suck.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans.
“Natasha!” I hear my mom yell from outside the room. “Natasha, are you okay?”
He lifts my chin and kisses under it while whispering, “Go.”
That night I slept in Maisie’s bed. When I felt it dip, I wasn’t afraid. When he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back to his chest, I wasn’t nervous. When he kissed the back of my head and then inhaled, I wasn’t angry. I was exactly where I wanted to be. But when I woke and he was gone, I was all of those things.
When I went downstairs, Mom was hugging Bass. When his eyes met mine, they said he’s gone.
36
Natasha (Thanksgiving Day)
“In an old house in Paris covered in vines,” I smile at Joshua as he clumsily tries to get a hold of the pages, “Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines-”
“If you’re gonna read to your brother, could it at least be a book about boy stuff?” Bass laughs. “Christ, look around this place, he’s going to be dressing in drag before he’s even old enough to know what sex he likes.”
Mom laughs then whispers, “If he takes after his father
, it will be lots of sex.”
“Gross, huh, Joshua?”
Mom gasps, “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, if these walls could talk, they’d be screaming pretty soon, Joshua’s going to be a big brother.”
“Oh God.” Mom covers her face.
“And that, too I bet.” I swear that’s Oliver’s voice.
Bass gasps and then laughs as he looks at his computer. “Hey Ollie, long time no see.”
“Been busy here on the beach.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, just wanted to tell you happy Thanksgiving and see how things are going?”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, man. Things are good. Line sold out in two days and we held it together without you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Which doesn’t mean we can keep covering your ass. We’re going to need all hands-on deck for this bridal line Natasha’s created.”
“Wedding dresses, huh?” He laughs
“Yeah, big names started requesting one of a kind Natashas. Then our overachiever had some old sketches and thought, hey, why not make some more money.”
“How’s she handling all that and school, Bass?” The concern in his voice makes me nearly dizzy.
“She’s fine, aren’t you, Natasha?”
Damn it, of all the days for me to look like hell, why is it today?
“What?” And my voice cracks.
“Ollie thinks we’re treating our star poorly. Come let him see for himself that you’re being fed and let out of the studio once in a while.”
I set the book down and stand, giving myself a moment to make sure the dizzy is just in my head. When I walk over to Bass, I take a deep breath before looking at the screen. He looks amazing.
“You’re in one piece still, I see.”
When he doesn’t reply and Bass laughs, I look at the screen and see that only my midsection is visible. And of course, I’m braless.
“Why don’t I let you have a seat.”
Bass stands, and I sit in the seat and my face heats immediately due to the way he’s looking at me.
“Let’s you and me go see what your Mom is up to.” He takes Joshua from me. “When you two are done, let me know so I can say goodbye.”
