Chapter Twenty-One
Brynn
It was the second day of July and even though it was still midmorning, the temperature was already climbing into the upper 80s. I tugged at the sleeves of my long-sleeved t-shirt, trying to pull them down even further. "How does it look?" I asked Mr. Stevens.
My cat shot me a look of utter contempt and lifted his paw and started licking.
"Yeah, well, I can't do that," I said, pulling up the sleeve to reveal the faint pink line that ringed my wrists.
I couldn't help it. I grinned. I couldn't seem to stop grinning these days. My body looked like a roadmap and I couldn't be happier about it.
That was the beauty of the rope, I was starting to realize. It made the memory so much sharper. When my maxi skirt brushed my ankles and enlivened the sensitive skin there, I clearly remembered Rett's face as he finished the knot and then pushed my knees up to my chest. When I saw the faint lines on my chest, I could picture the way Rett used that knot for leverage to fuck me deeper as I screamed. Every moment with him seemed to be seared into my skin. Just pressing my fingers into the place the ropes held me was enough to make me smile.
I felt like I'd found some kind of secret only he and I shared. His ropes held me together. His ropes brought me back to myself.
But they also made it really awkward to dress myself in the summertime. The other day my brother had taken one look at me in my long skirt and long sleeves and asked me when I joined the Amish.
"Okay so, what about bracelets?"
Mr. Stevens looked up from his licking.
"Yeah, I think that'll work," I said, pulling off my long-sleeved shirt. I was instantly cooler. Rifling through my drawer, I pulled out a t-shirt with pretty flutter sleeves and higher neckline. Then I searched through the tangle on my dresser until I found a wide wooden bangle for one wrist and a set of stacked beaded bracelets for the other.
Then I took another look at the tangle. I'd been staring at the jumbled mess for months now, basically since I'd moved in. I'd been waiting until I had the time to organize it properly, waiting until I found the perfect box, preferably an antique wood inlay from Mrs. Feathergill's antique store, to display it in.
"But that doesn't seem to be happening," I mused aloud.
Mr. Stevens let out a chirpy little meow.
"You're right," I declared. "This is ridiculous." I bent over the tangle and extricated a chunky plastic beaded necklace meant to be strung around your neck several times. "I don't even wear this," I said, turning to show Mr. Stevens. "I mean, I thought maybe if I got the perfect tunic but..." I shook my head. "I never did, and I probably never will so..."
Mr. Stevens blinked.
"You're right," I said again. "I'm getting rid of it now." I went down to the kitchen and grabbed a bag from the mountain of plastic bags I never seemed to remember to take back to the grocery store for recycling. Then I headed back upstairs.
In a matter of fifteen minutes, I had untangled most of the mess. Three quarters of it ended up in the plastic bag, destined for the thrift store.
"I just need a..." I thought for a minute. Then a lightbulb went off in my head. "One of your old food bowls! That'll keep it contained," I said. "At least until I find something nicer. But at least it won't be strewn all over my dresser anymore."
Mr. Stevens was very interested in the reappearance of his old food bowl and I had to dump another cupful of food into his current one in order to keep him at bay while I took the other one upstairs. I laid out the remaining three necklaces, the ones I actually liked and wore, then added the two bangles and three sets of earrings to the bowl. Then I stepped back.
For the first time in months, the top of my dresser was clear. "Holy shit," I exhaled. It was strange how light I was suddenly feeling. I needed to mark this day down.
A little noise erupted out of my mouth and I turned in a slow circle to eye the journal on my nightstand that had been plaguing me for weeks.
"All right, asshole," I said. "It's on." And I grabbed it and ran downstairs for a pen.
*****
I'd been journaling for a solid hour, the words coming fast and thick in a torrent of thoughts and musings when my phone buzzed on my coffee table.
I jumped, sending a line of ink skittering up the page, but I didn't worry about the page getting messy for once. I just reached for my phone and looked at the name.
I answered the call with a huge grin on my face. "Hey Autumn," I sang out.
"Oh my God," she wailed at the other end of the line. "I am such a shit friend. How has like two weeks gone by with me barely seeing you?"
I swallowed guiltily. I'd been so wrapped up in things — literally, I grinned to myself — that I'd let too much time slip by as well. "It's fine," I reassured her. "You're not a shit friend."
"Well I will won't be anymore," she said determinedly. "You're coming over for dinner. This Friday. No excuses bitch, I need to see your face."
I took a deep breath. "For dinner?" I repeated.
"Yes." I heard a muffled voice on the other end. "Cole says you have to come too, so that's two against one."
I winced. I loved Autumn dearly, but the idea of spending at dinner watching the two of them wrapped up in newlywed bliss made my stomach churn. I took a deep breath. "Sure, I'd love to." I hesitated. How could this be better? I touched my wrist. "Can I bring someone?"
I could practically hear Autumn's eyes grow wide. "Is there... Someone you want to bring?" she asked, emphasizing the word someone like it was in all capital letters.
I took a deep breath. "There is," I hedged.
"Well? Tell me who it is!" she demanded.
I hesitated again. Autumn and Rett had dated, back when she and Cole weren't together. We had spent a lot of time laughing about how uptight he was, how conservative. Of course that was before...
Idly I chased the line of sensitive skin that ringed my wrist. "Rett McCabe," I said firmly.
I could practically hear Autumn's eyes go even wider. "Really?" she asked.
"Really," I said firmly.