LIZ
It’s late. A light evening breeze disturbs the curtain in Della’s room, causing it to stir and attracting the attention of our cat, Mittens. Della’s eyes are alight with mischief, as she holds the phone to her ear, peering at me. The moment she ends the call, her eyes tighten and her smile widens. She wants me to go with her. She’s attacking me with the patented “Della grin”, her silent plea that causes me to fold every time.
I’m in a car, Della’s car. She’s wants to know why I look so sad. I tell her that Grayson and I had a fight. She tells me that we have been fighting a lot recently. I tell her that we’re fine, couples fight, and that maybe, after we are married next month, we will be better at fighting.
She tells me that she loves me, but that she doesn’t think I should marry Grayson. I tell her that I don’t need a lecture. She pleads with me not to make this mistake. I tell her the day I marry him will be the best day of my life.
It’s Friday, and I haven’t heard from Chris all week. I awaken with an overwhelming sense of dread, I’m worried about him. I’m sad about Della too, but at least I’m not crying. I remember that day in Della’s car, when I spoke those words to her, I really believed them. I thought that the day Grayson and I got married would be the best day of our lives. I didn’t expect it to ruin me, I didn’t expect to regret him every day of my life, because I will. She tried to warn me and, if only I had listened to her, she’d still be alive. I texted Chris, Tuesday night, to ask how the meeting went, but I didn’t get a response.
I don’t expect to see him tonight. Maybe that’s why I feel so dreadful, I miss him and I’m not supposed to miss him. One code: No Lying. Two code: No Falling. Missing him is a step away from falling for him, and I don’t want to mess this up. With Brooke’s non-negotiable rebound theory, I’m supposed to be protected. It’s just that, Chris has become more important to me than I expected. When we first started hanging out, it was exciting, fun and hot. While, it’s still exciting, fun and hot, he’s quickly transitioned from a distraction to a necessity. He’s become the best part of my week. Which I know can’t be right. I have Sean. I love Sean. Chris is amazing, but he’s not Sean, and Sean is my perfect guy.
If I wasn’t tense enough, now I’m also prickly and fidgeting because Sean has popped up today to join me for my daily run. I want a good run, I need to burn some of this anxiety out of my system. I hope this is a good day for us. Sean has always been open and honest with me, even when I couldn’t be open with him, but it’s clear that he’s not telling me something. All of our runs aren’t bad though, sometimes we laugh as we race through the laps. We’ve even had water fights with our squirt bottles, which usually is awarded with disapproving looks by the other runners. Sadly, the fun times always end the same, badly. It’s as if he’s scolding himself for enjoying our time together, and by the end of it he shuts down. Some days, he avoids anything that could be remotely enjoyable during our run, he just shows up, runs with me, and leaves.
Our feet pound the track at a blurring pace, and I notice quickly that this is one of Sean’s bad days. At this speed, not much conversation is expected, with breathing control and all, but Sean has barely said two full sentences to me since he’s gotten here. I’ve offered him water, I even brought him a fresh towel because I know how much he hates sweat to fall into his eyes. He declined them both. I’ve stayed quiet, not to disturb his mood even more.
Sean and I silently bound through another lap, and move at a steady pace toward the last. Clouds blanket the sky, as a storm approaches, and a cool breeze tickles the fine hairs on my legs, causing goose bumps to rise. I’m wearing a large t-shirt and baggy gym shorts. I hate baggy gym shorts, I may as well be wearing a damn parachute. These clothes remind me of what we had to wear in middle school gym class, but to avoid an argument, I wore them. Sean argues that women who wear tight-fitting gym clothes are just after attention and that they should have more class. I tried to explain that it has more to do with aerodynamics and ease of motion, but it went on deaf ears. I’ve never noticed, until recently, how damn difficult he can be.
I smile at him as we reach the end of the run, and begin to slow. After retrieving my water bottle from a patch of grass, I join Sean on the bleachers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, unable to take the silence any longer.
“I am,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Then, why are you acting so… so…”
“Tortured?” he says, finishing my sentence.
“Tortured?” I ask, brow creased.
Sean stands, shakes his head, and blows out a huge breath.
“Sean, what do you mean?”
A wind gust kicks up, blowing the dust and stones from the track, causing them to sting my skin like tiny pinpricks.
Sean’s eyes focus on the skies, the ground, his watch, anywhere but on me. He won’t look at me.
I open my mouth to protest his silence again, but a sudden downpour begins, as a loud crack of thunder follows, causing the air to feel solid.
“I’m going to go. We’ll talk later, okay?” he kisses my forehead and walks away.
“Get out of the rain before you get sick,” he yells.
Tank drops Ros and me off a little later than usual. The three of us decided to go out for drinks and sushi. It was nice. I hate that things didn’t work out with Tank and Lacy, but I won’t lie, it’s great having him around more. I’m totally stuffed and feel like I’m rolling out of his car instead of stepping out. Ros hangs back to chat with Tank while I carry my bags, and very full belly, into the apartment.
I texted Sean shortly after he left me standing in the rain earlier. I asked him to dinner next Thursday night, told him we needed to talk. I don’t think I can take much more of his moodiness, feeling like total shit every time we hang out is getting old.
Ros comes in the house a few minutes later, phone plastered to her ear.
“Yes, we’re here. Okay, see you in a bit.”
Brooke and Kesha come over, and the four of us veg out in front of the TV, settling into a Jason Bourne movie marathon. After the first movie, I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Wake up, Lizzy,” Brooke sings.
“Ugh. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“It’s barely 9 p.m.” Ros says.
“Yeah and this is the first Friday you’ve been home in forever. We are hanging out.” Brooke smiles, passing me a bowl of chips.
“Okay. You’re right,” I huff, and attempt to shake off the sleep.
“She’s usually busy with Mr. Rebound.” Kesha grins. “You need to bring him over and have him invite his friends. Stop hoarding all that sexy to yourself, it’s rude.”
“Noted,” I laugh.
We make it through the second and third movies before we call it a night. I couldn’t help checking my phone throughout, on the off chance that Chris texted. It’s not like him to just disappear, and it’s really starting to get to me. I could call Ty, I know Ros has his number, but that might break some type of sex buddy code. I sigh and resolve to call him in the morning. I place my phone on the charger, curl under my blankets, and fall asleep.
I’m looking over orientation packets for Emory. I’m excited. Grayson comes home. A door slams. Grayson is angry. He hates his job because his manager is a jerk. We have only been married for three months, but it feels a lot longer. We were supposed to be happier. I beg Grayson to stop yelling, he says we should move to California with his aunt. I remind him that my class is in six weeks. He says our life would be better in California.
The sound of my phone ringing startles me awake at 2:19 a.m.
“Red. Are you asleep?” Chris asks, his voice sounds flat, dead.
I clear my throat, trying my best to sound awake.
“No, I’m up.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“No, it’s okay. Is everything alright?”
“No,” he says, quietly.
My pulse quickens, “Where are you?”
“I’m outside.”
He’s standing at my front door, drenched and shadowed in the darkness.
“Chris,” I say, his name getting caught in my throat. I step back, allowing him to enter, “what happened?”
He doesn’t respond, he just bites his lip and shakes his head. Noticing the cuts on his hands, I move directly to the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit.
We sit on the couch in silence as I clean and bandage his hands, by the time I finish, the rain droplets that were so prominent on his shirt moments ago have begun to dry.
“I’m sorry, Red. This week has been shit, but I wanted to see you, so I came. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course. I was getting really worried about you.”
“Sorry I didn’t text you. My mind, I just…,” he trails off.
“It’s okay.”
I reach over and rub his knee.
“I smashed my phone. Didn’t have one until a few hours ago.”
Chris sighs heavily and leans back against the couch.
We linger for a bit, allowing the words to come. I don’t know what to say. I could ask him again what the hell happened, but it’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I shouldn’t be here. What the fuck am I doing?” he says, under his breath.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Red, I—”
“Stop apologizing.”
His gaze falls on mine.
“I just couldn’t go back home, not without him. I didn’t want to be around the guys.”
A space in my chest hollows, as understanding sets in. Where is MJ?
“I can’t lose him, Red,” he says, speaking with so much pain that it makes me want to cry.
I lean over and hug him, and all the air he’d been holding releases.
“You won’t lose him. You’re amazing and everyone will see that.”
He sighs, wrapping his arms around me.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“No.”
“Have you slept?”
“No,” he says.
“Come on.”
I stand and lead Chris to the dining table. Like something out of The Walking Dead, he follows and, with an aching heart, I make him a sandwich. He eats in silence and, after he’s done, I wrap up in him as we fall asleep.
The next morning, Chris is still very quiet. We eat bagels in silence, drink coffee in silence. I don’t press him to talk, and I feel that my mere presence is helping him in some way. He’s not being rude or aloof, he just doesn’t have much to say. He’s not smiling either, Chris always smiles and I hate that she took his smile.
“Morning,” Ros says, and then does a double take when she notices Chris at the counter, pouring coffee.
“Morning,” he greets.
She glances at me, but not long enough to catch my cue, as I try to tell her silently that all is not well.
“So next weekend, we still on for the beach party?” she asks.
He doesn’t immediately respond, and Ros’ eyes fall to me. I shake my head. She gets the hint and looks back over to Chris.
“Uh. I don’t think we—” I say, but Chris cuts me off.
“You know what? Yeah! We are still going.”
“I won’t let her drag me down. This shit isn’t about to fucking happen. I don’t care how bad it looks,” he says to nobody in particular.
“You’re right,” I offer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have rights too. I know it will all work out.”
Chris’ eyes are heavy with concern and for a moment I think he’s going to say more, but instead, he nods and returns to his coffee.
“Okay,” Ros says weakly. Her eyes lock with mine before she silently excuses herself from the room. The rest of the morning we lie around the apartment eating the worst types of delicious foods, all filled with sugar, fried in grease or dipped in chocolate. As the hours pass by he seems to grow relaxed and starts talking more. I find myself tiptoeing around him though, there’s no real reason for it but I’m afraid of saying the wrong things. He’s hurting and the need to make him feel better is overwhelming. I hate that there is nothing I can do and I can’t begin to relate to what he’s going through. The only thing I do know is it hurts to watch him hurt.
"I'm happy you came," I whisper.
"What?" he asks.
We’ve been lying in bed and just finished a season of Game of Thrones.
"Last night, you apologized for coming here. I'm happy you came," I say, rolling over to face him and meeting an expression that’s hard to read. Pain and fear are present but there's something else. His arms cradle me as we lie nose to nose on my pillow, but he doesn't speak right away.
"Me too."
Warmth floods through me and my pulse begins to race. It's not because of uncertainty or lust, it's because the way he's looking at me matches everything I'm starting to feel for him.
Love.
Chirping crickets and buzzing critter sounds fill the crisp night air as we lay on the back deck of Chris’ house with Ty and Ros. The rain stopped a few hours ago, and the bugs sound happy to be back in control. All of the other guys are at work, so the house is quiet. Since its Ty’s weekend off, Ros decided to come along with me for the night. It took some coaxing, but I was finally able to convince her to get out and get some air.
Chris and I sway gently in the hammock, as we watch the stars dance across the sky. Without the crowds of people, the piles of chairs, the empty beer bottles, and the plastic cups, the deck is really beautiful. Four lounge chairs lie next to each other, with small tables separating each one, a glass patio set sits near-by and, on the very end of the patio, are two large net hammocks.
Chris is lying between my legs, while I absentmindedly trail my fingers up and down his arm. Ros and Ty have pulled two chairs from the patio set over to our hammock, and we have been biting boredom with an old fashion game of twenty questions.
“So, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to someone?” Ros asks Chris, as she brings a cup to her lips.
Ty and Chris lock eyes, and they both begin to chuckle.
“What is it?” I ask, with smiling eyes.
Ty continues to laugh, and shakes his head, pointing to Chris. Chris sighs.
“Last year, on Paul’s birthday, the boys and I had this huge party planned for him at the club. I mean we had food, women, everything. He was dating this girl named Nora at the time, they had just broken up, and all he wanted to do was stay home and fuck strippers. We were pissed. Right as Ty and I were leaving, Paul’s mom was walking up to the house. She asked if he was inside, and we told her that he was in his room.”
“Y’all let her walk in on him,” I laugh. “That’s evil.”
Ros makes a laughing, squealing sound.
“No, no no,” Ty says, laughing and waving both hands in front of him, “it gets worse.”
Chris continues, “See, that’s what we thought. His mom would catch him fucking a girl and that would be it, but, instead his mother had planned to surprise him that day. His father, younger sister, and his fucking grandma from California had come along with her. His grandmother baked his favorite cake, and they waltz right into his room with a video camera, right as he was in the middle of a threesome.”
I gasp, while the other three fall over laughing.
“His entire family watched, as he fucked a girl doggy style, while she made out with the other girl he had blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed!” Chris says, laughing so hard that he barely gets it out.
“That’s horrible,” Ros says, laughing.
We continue playing for a while, but eventually fall silent and become captivated once again by the stars. Gently, I run my fingers along the bandages on his hands, still curious about what happened.
Did he get into a fight? I make a mental note to ask him about it later when we are alone. Now that he’s starting to perk up a bit, he may be willing to share. I look from Chris’ bandages to Ros and catch her smiling at me, seconds before Ty announces that they are going to the kitchen to get chips.
It’s been an hour, and I’m beginning to realize that those chips are never coming.
Chris and I decide to switch positions when the air grows chilly and, now under a blanket, I lay against him. It isn’t long before my eyes grow heavy, as I become hypnotized by his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the gentle sway of our hammock.
“What’s the best thing you’ve ever done?” Chris asks. His voice startles me, because I thought he had fallen asleep.
“Well,” I clear my throat, “when I was a kid, I got to pet a lion.”
“Really?”
“Yup. My mom had taken my sister and me to the circus, and for a little extra money, they allowed people to pet a lion cub. I remember telling Della that it looked just like our kitten at home. She wouldn’t pet it though, she was too scared, kept saying it would remember her scent and come for her when it got older,” I smile at the memory. “She always hated to see animals in cages. When she was six and I was four, she concocted a master plan to free all the animals in the Atlanta zoo, I was supposed to have been the lookout,” I laugh.
Chris stays silent, as he listens intently, rubbing my shoulders.
“The lion cub, it was so beautiful, Chris. I never forgot it.”
“Wow,” he says.
It hits me that this is the first time I’ve mentioned Della to him, and I tense as I wait for the questions. Surprisingly, they don’t come, and I take a deep breath. It felt good to talk about her. I’m learning quickly that Chris is easy to talk to, to share with. He doesn’t pressure me, even after this morning, marking the third time I’ve woke up in his arms crying, and he still hasn’t asked me about it. It makes me want to share. Which is weird, but I feel like it’s time to give him something.
“She died,” I somehow find the courage to say.
The rise and fall of his chest, that had been luring me to sleep moments ago, ceases. Actually, everything ceases. He’s no longer rubbing my shoulders, and it even feels like the hammock is frozen in place.
“Damn,” he says solemnly, and he somehow pulls me tighter against him.
“I was there,” I say, voice coming out barely audible.
He’s chest hollows as he exhales and I sink further into him. Chris wraps his arms around me and he kisses the side of my head.
“Fuck,” he says.
“I’m so sorry, Red. I hate that you went through that.”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
I lay my head back on his shoulder as we fall silent again, taken over by rocking, as we float above the earth.
“Is that… your dreams?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
Chris holds me tight, and I feel his hurt for me in every muscle of his body.
I exhale a large breath and feel a release inside of me, as if something that was lodged deep has been knocked loose. My lips are moving, I’m speaking words, words to him I didn’t plan to share. Words that explain my pain, my heartache, my wounds. He listens as I become transparent to him, pouring out all of my experiences, from Sean breaking my barely mended heart to what happened that night with Grayson and Della. When I’m done, and it’s too painful to continue. Chris speaks up sharing his own pain wrapped by a deep love for his son, MJ. Instead of spending the night in bliss with him like I have so many nights before, we fall asleep in that hammock, after talking until the sun bled through the trees.