Duke
The carpet in my apartment is one pace away from a hole. I can’t seem to slow the fuck down. My mind is reeling, and every nerve in my body is on high alert.
I may be an asshole, but what I just did to Charlotte was cruel. The way she looked at me still makes my bones ache as if I’d run a marathon. Exhausted. Out of breath. Unsure when the end will come.
A loud pound on the door breaks me from reliving the night for the twentieth time in the last hour.
“Explain to me what the hell happened?” Lydia stomps through the door when I swing it open. Her hands rest on her hips, and an anger I don’t recognize flames in her eyes.
“Yes, please, come in, Lyd.” She glares over her shoulder. Sarcasm delivered. I slam the door and go straight into the kitchen, popping the top to a beer and taking a long pull. “How did you even get here?” I beg the question. “Last I knew, you were two sheets to the wind, boozing it up with the girls.”
“Randy’s waiting outside,” she answers, pulling back the curtains. Randy sits in his truck under the street light, banging his hands on the steering wheel.
“What the hell is going on between you two anyway?” I sit on the couch.
“Oh no, you don’t. You changing the subject is not going to deflect from the shit show that is you and Charlotte.”
“There is no show. Hell, there is no TV.” Can she hear the bullshit, or will she let me get away with it? “Can we drop this? Please?”
“No, we can’t drop this, Duke.” Her hand rests on my knee. The corner of her mouth flicks into a sad smile.
“I don’t want your pity, Lyd.” And that’s what she’s here for. Charlotte ran up to her apartment and told her everything, and now she feels the need to check in on me. Unlike Charlotte, Lydia knows everything I said and did to Charlotte tonight was a defense mechanism.
“It’s not pity, Duke. You’re like my brother, and you’re struggling to hold on. You like her.”
“She’s all I can think about.” I stand, continuing the same path I began an hour ago.
“Then why did you just do what you did?” Some people in this world can destroy every lie you tell yourself. Lydia is my person. “If she’s all you can think about, why did you treat that sweet girl like all your other hook ups?”
“She isn’t like any of the other girls, Lyd. That’s the problem.”
“Duke, she’s stuck between what she’s always known, and this strange magnetic pull you two have with each other.” Lydia sighs, leaning back onto the couch. “You know how hard this is on you. Well, imagine how it is for her. Everything she ever thought she wanted is a lie, and the girl has no idea. To top it off, the one thing she needs” —she pokes her tiny finger into my chest— “she’s not supposed to want.”
Charlotte’s relationship with Jacob isn’t enough to deter me from wanting every ounce of her to myself. I’m selfish enough to place my own happiness before Jacob’s. What I’m not willing to do is cause Charlotte any more pain. Should’ve thought about that before you slept with her, douchebag.
But what if Lydia is right, and I’m what Charlotte needs?
Hell, I know she’s what I need.
My heart fuels my legs. Lydia’s words echo in my mind as I search for my truck keys.
“Where are you going?” Lydia smirks because she already knows.
“I need to fix this,” I explain, shoving my arms into my zip-up hoodie. “Lock up for me.”
The cool air hits my bare chest. The zipper hits my skin, causing a chill to run over my body. Excitement shoots through me. I’m eager to explain and apologize. Hell, I’m not above groveling.
“Duke, your shoes,” Lydia calls out. A pair dangles from her fingertips. I ignore her and squeal out of the parking lot, barely bothering to stop at the stop sign.
It’s almost midnight, and all the windows are dark when I pull into the spot in front of the complex. Pushing past a couple in the hallway, I pound my fist against the door.
“Open up, Charlotte. Please.” My desperation is loud and clear. A couple eyes me, curious as to what I’ll do next. “I fucked up,” I shout to them. For the first time, my acknowledgement of my own wrong doings knows no bounds. I want to scream them from the rooftop, own up to every single mistake I’ve made.
The door swings open, and Rachel stands with heavy eyelids, blinking at me like I’ve just woken up a bear from hibernation. “What in the actual hell?” Her surprised expression when she sees what I’m wearing makes me laugh.
“Is Charlotte home?” I pull the front of my hoodie together to hide my bare chest.
“Where else would she be?” Rachel rolls her eyes, straightening her tank top with a huff of irritation. It may take me longer to get into Charlotte’s best friend’s good graces than I think.
Loud footsteps pound through the apartment. I can’t see her yet, but my body knows she’s nearby. Everything inside of me is on high alert, holding its breath, eager to see her.
Rachel pulls the door open, exposing Charlotte in the shortest, striped sleep shorts. “Your midnight caller.” Rachel drags her feet and moves to the side, not willing to leave me alone with Charlotte for one second. I can’t blame her.
My eyes scan up her bare legs to her t-shirt. It says, ‘But Coffee First.’ “Nice shirt.”
“What are you doing here, Duke?” She stands there, unforgiving, but somehow still adorably cute with her hands pinching into her sides. She’s mad, but for a single second, it dissipates, and her eyes brighten.
“If you would, I’d really like to talk.” This girl makes me feel weak, and not in a bad way. Vulnerability isn’t something I’m used to, but Charlotte makes me want to cut myself open and expose every feeling I’ve ever had.
“Why should I?” Damn, she challenges the hell out of me. This is why I’m attracted to her. She’s different than any girl I’ve ever known. She’s a light in a dark tunnel.
“Because you’re right.” Her eyes soften at my words. She is right. Even with good intentions, what I did to her by not calling after we slept together was a poor move on my part.
“Let me go get dressed.” Charlotte steps back.
Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
Charlotte holds up a finger, leaving Rachel and me together.
“So...” Rachel hums and smirks while I shuffle my feet.
“Go ahead and ask.” I slouch back and lean against the wall across from their door.
“What’s the plan?” Her feet are crossed at her ankles, and she leans into the doorframe.
“No plan. I just know I don’t deserve her,” I say.
“If you can admit that, then I’d say you’re a hell of a lot closer to deserving her than Jacob ever was.” Rachel shrugs her shoulders, as if her words don’t hold any weight. It’s the opposite, though. They rest perfectly on my shoulders, and I hear her loud and clear.
“Rachel, do you know something...”
The question fades away as Charlotte exits the apartment. She stands in front of me, still in the shorts, thank fuck, but now paired with an oversized sweater. Rachel shrugs her shoulders, turns, and shuts the door.
“Let’s get this over with.” Charlotte turns towards the parking lot and starts walking.
Opening the passenger side door, Charlotte slides in. Her shoulder grazes my chest, and fire burns down deep to run my fingertips over the ends of her hair. Not closing it behind her, she faces forward. Her attention is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Charlotte opens her lips, and desperation to spin her towards me and kiss her sinks in. She doesn’t speak like I half expect, instead a physical struggle ensues. Her chest rises and falls, dancing in front of me.
“Look at me,” Her lack of movement encourages me more, as if she already suspects why I showed up tonight, but she’s too afraid to face me. “Please, Charlotte.” I run my fingertips across her knee.
“What? What is it? What else could you have to say? You made yourself pretty clear earlier tonight. What’s happening between us is nothing.” She doesn’t take a breath between words. Impressive, but it’s an act. She hides what I’m desperate to find.
“What I have to say is this...” I swing her around.
As if she had been anticipating my next move, Charlotte’s legs wrap just above the back of my knees. The gesture can almost be mistaken as an accident. It isn’t, though, by the way they tighten around me. My body is pulled closer to hers, and I groan as my fingers run through her hair, gripping at the strands to stay grounded. The girl makes me feel like the Earth and I are no longer connected. She makes me float.
“Please don’t.” Her head tilts to the side, proving her words wrong once again. She leans forward. Our chests bump, and everything else in the world fades away. The cars driving by disappear as if we are two lone people left on this planet. She follows my every move, working with me until our lips are centimeters apart.
“If you tell me to stop, I will,” I breathe out, and a shiver courses through her body. “But don’t tell me to stop if one single part of you wants to know what will happen next.”
“You hurt me.” She tries to keep control. Tears pool in the corner of her eyes, a clear sign of just how badly my actions stung her.
Our foreheads lean against each other, and her nose tickles my own, circling the tip as I speak. “Charlotte, I’ve never had to explain myself to anyone, but I need you to know I did what I did because I like you, and it scares the shit out of me that I can’t truly have you.”
I close the small gap, keeping her sweet lips away from mine, and touch mine against the corner of her smile. In my head, I count, giving her a chance to stop what I’m dying to explore. She doesn’t, though. No words are uttered. No words are whispered.
Her tongue runs the seal of my lips and we open to each other. Her warm hands skim up my bare chest, circling around until her fingertips dig into my skin. She pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says between our lips. “Jacob and I...”
The sound of his name from the lips I’ve been kissing, causes my stomach to flip. Fuck.
“He’s not who you think,” I say.
Charlotte’s phone rings from somewhere in the truck. She bends and shifts to reach it, while keeping her legs wrapped around me.
She shrugs a silent apology before answering. “Hello?” Her skin is flushed and breathing labored. A perfect sign our embrace affects her like it does me.
Charlotte’s eyes widen in surprise, and her legs slip down painfully slow. Their absence is evident. She nods and responds with one-word answers. Something is wrong.
“I’ll be there soon,” she says before pushing END and tossing the phone over her shoulder. A whimper escapes from the cage made by her hands covering her face.
“What’s going on?” Her reaction from the phone call is like ice cold water on my warm, beating heart. I ask the question, already knowing the answer. He’s awake.
“Jacob’s...” Her eyes glisten when they look into mine. Tears stream down her cheeks. “He’s awake, Duke.”
This is the moment I’ve been dreading. Speak up. Tell her the truth. Tell her everything you know. Quit being a pussy. But it will destroy her.
“I’ll drive you.” I step back, noticing the lack of warmth on my body from the distance when I slam the door. Charlotte sits, her full attention focused on the side window as I slide behind the steering wheel.
The drive is quiet. So quiet I have to roll down the window to break the silence. The seats of the truck shake from Charlotte’s bouncing knee. I’d do anything to take her fear away, but I play a huge part in the way she feels.
When I pull up to the entrance, the parking lot is damn near empty. Charlotte shifts her body towards me. Her mouth opens and shuts. She and I both know no words will fix this.
“I don’t know what to do,” she sighs, finally looking to my side of the truck. “This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, right? Him to wake up, so I could talk to him, say all the things I needed to say over the past weeks. I should be happy he’s awake, but...” She lowers her thick, black lashes and watches me like she’s desperate for me to say something, give her a reason to not step out of this truck and into the hospital.
Put the poor girl out of her misery.
I lean past her and open the truck door. “Go be with him, Charlotte.”
Damn, that hurts like a knife to the chest.
Charlotte turns back before slipping out of my truck for maybe the last time. With her eyebrows cinched together, she releases a breath, pulling her purse over her shoulder and leaving without a single word or explanation for where to go from here. It’s like sand through my clenched fist; slowly, it will fall to the floor into a million tiny specks.
Wes waits for her by the entrance. He follows her steps backwards and shakes his head at the sight of me. On the sidewalk, Charlotte falls into Wes’s arms, and he welcomes her, while keeping an eye on where my truck idles. My foot hits the gas pedal, and the tires squeal, leaving only memories and rubber in the parking lot.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and ring Lydia. When she doesn’t answer, I toss it in the seat beside me. The inside of my truck smells of Charlotte’s perfume. The blood beneath my skin boils at the brief memory I have of a girl like Charlotte up against me. My fist connects with the steering wheel, and my outburst is interrupted by ringing.
“Hello,” I bark into the phone.
“Lovely to talk to you, too, Duke.” Lydia’s voice sings in my ear. “You know you are the one who called me, right?” Her snarky attitude creeps in her voice.
“He’s awake,” I blurt out. The silence suffocates me. “Lydia, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you. That’s a good thing.” She sighs. “Now he can deal with the train wreck he’s caused.”
I explain the dilemma I’m officially in, as I park outside Lydia’s building. Her apartment is on ground level because she refused to move furniture up a flight of stairs.
She swings open the door, anticipating my arrival, and slugs me in the arm. I follow her inside.
“Your dick practically pants and drools in her lap every time she comes around, so why am I not surprised you’re bent out of shape at the news?”
At the mention of my dick, I wince.
“What were you thinking?” She bangs her palm against her forehead, disappointed in me.
“What am I thinking? Well, I’m thinking the girl is pretty spectacular, and perhaps I’ve gotten a little over my head.”
“You think?” Randy says, swaggering down the hallway.
“Oh, so this is a thing?” I glance between them.
“We aren’t talking about him and me.” She looks to Randy with tender eyes before addressing me. “How did you find yourself in this situation? Why couldn’t you just screw her and get it out of your system? Not fall for the girl.”
“I can tell you how. The girl looks like every kindergarten teacher in America. You’ve seen Coyote Ugly. Every red-blooded male has a toddler in his pocket,” Randy explains, sitting on the arm of the couch. He pulls out his pocket knife and fidgets with the end of the blade.
“You are a walking contradiction.” I shake my head. “But he has a point. It’s like I want to take care of her. Protect her.”
“You’re disgusting and a little insulting.” Lydia shakes her head. “A girl like Charlotte can take care of herself. She doesn’t need your ass to swoop in and fix everything for her.”
“Relax, babe.” Randy places a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s what he means.”
“What I mean is, from the moment I laid eyes on her, she’s kept me captivated. Is it a crime?” I hiss.
“When it’s your pal’s girl, yeah, kind of.” Randy’s brow slants, disapproving of my actions.
I shove him in the chest. “Fuck you.”
Randy holds his hands up. He steps into Lydia’s side and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in the rest of the way. “I’m just saying you should have steered clear of this girl.”
“The second you looked at her at the bar, I knew this was going to be a train wreck.” Lydia shrugs. “But what’s done is done, and now you need to pull up your big boy panties and fix this shit.” She hugs me and ushers me to the door.
“You kicking me out?” I ask, stunned.
“Yes, I am.” She laughs. “I don’t give a shit where you go, but you aren’t staying here.” The door swings open, and I’m shoved out. “We’ll see you later,” Lydia shouts through the closed door.
What the actual fuck? So much for them helping me.
*****
The buzz of the gate echoes down the long driveway. This is a sound I’ll never forget, but never grow accustomed to. It’s the sound of control. Beyond the tall, black fence is my own personal hell I’m only willing to cross into when I really need a pick-me-up. I need a reminder of where I’ve been and where I’m still headed.
The crazy reality is, the place I am most out of control is also the place where I find my confidence in the choices I’ve made since I’ve left.
“Come here, my pretty little boy,” Dee shouts from the front door. She doesn’t step out but waves her hands for me to hurry inside. When I’m finally in front of her, she kisses both of my cheeks and holds me at arm’s length. “Aren’t they feeding you at that college? You’re too skinny. Eat a cheeseburger every now and then.”
Dee is my nanny. Well, technically, she’s no longer my nanny, but that isn’t something I’d say to her face. She’s in her late sixties, and funny as hell. When I was younger, she used to remind me, no matter how old I got, she would always be my nanny. She loves me like I’m her son. Growing up, hers was the only love I got.
“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” I laugh, resting my arm across Dee’s shoulders. I know the drill and follow her into the kitchen.
“Now sit down, and I’ll make you lunch while you tell me why you came all the way out here.”
All I can do is laugh because, of course, she’s caught on to my motives. “It’s complicated,” I explain, resting my head on the cool marble countertop.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be making my world-famous mac ‘n’ cheese, huh?” Dee pulls ingredients from the fridge. A soft chuckle escapes her mouth.
“Who in the world has tasted your cooking besides the people in this house?” I tease, thankful to be sitting in front of her.
“This isn’t the time to grow an attitude. You trekked your ass up here for advice. Now, shut up about my cooking, and explain to me what’s going on,” Dee demands.
I start from the beginning. No detail is spared, even the less than desirable parts.
“Wait, now, let me get this straight.” Dee pauses, slowly stirring the contents in the saucepan. “You went through all this drama for this girl?”
I nod and laugh. “Essentially.”
Dee’s left eyebrow lifts. “And you slept with her because you’re you, and you can’t help yourself. You’re like a damn dog with a bone.” Her boisterous laugh echoes through the kitchen, but I’m unmoved, knowing damn well the lady who spent every night of my childhood tucking me into bed, can smell my apprehension from across the island. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She shakes her head, placing a dish in the oven.
“Why are you laughing?” In the fridge I usually find all my favorite things. Dee keeps it stocked in case I mosey over, which is rare, but fresh squeezed orange juice sits on the middle shelf. I pour a glass and take a long sip. “What is this garbage?” I lift the cup to inspect the drink.
“No reason to squeeze fresh oranges anymore. Lord knows your mother hasn’t drank a drop of anything with sugar since the eighties, and don’t get me going on your father. For an uppity son of a bitch, he has cheap taste in juice,” Dee rambles on one of her usual tangents. When I was younger, I’d nod, pretending to understand what she was murmuring about. “And we aren’t here to talk about what’s in the fridge.”
“If you must know, yes, we slept together. It changed everything, and I screwed up. I acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was.”
“Jesus, young boy. You’ve made yourself quite the mess.”
“Yes, and now her boyfriend is awake, and it feels like every second that passes, she’s slipping away.”
“Oh my god!” Dee squeals, circling the kitchen island. Her mouth is wide open with shock. “You’re in love with her.”
“In love?” I scoff. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
She smacks my hand. “Watch your language, young man.”
“You curse all the time. I probably learned to curse from you.”
“Quit changing the subject.” Dee snickers through clenched lips. “You’re in love with this girl, Duke.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m in love with her.” Do I love her? Could I love her? Fucking hell. “I’m challenged by her. She captivates me whenever she’s in the room, and somehow, she knows exactly how to push every button of mine. She’s not the kind of girl to give up on people, and I find that most attractive about her.” I take a deep breath. Every moment with Charlotte, even the little things, has meant something to me. “If you met her, you’d know what I’m saying. She has a presence about her, Dee.”
“That’s how you describe someone you’re in love with, Duke. Most girls would line up with their ass in the air to hear a man say what you just did about this girl.” She pats my cheek. “And I hope I get to meet her someday. You aren’t easy to keep up with, and it seems she’s been doing a damn good job.”
Fuck, maybe I do love this girl.
“Dee,” my mother calls through the intercom system. She had the whole house rewired so she could avoid human contact or a personal relationship with her staff. Yeah, that’s the kind of mom I have. “I need a glass of water, please.”
I whip around and nod towards the speaker. “Where’d the manners come from?”
“It’s new.” She opens the cupboard and pulls out a tall glass, filling it halfway with ice and water. Just how mother likes. “But you won’t hear me complaining. Stop back through before you leave. I think your father is in his office.”
I groan. “As if I care.”
“He’s still your father. He’s a part of you, just as you are a part of him.” Dee passes by, but turns to face me with her lips straight in a line. “Do yourself a favor, Duke, and apologize. To everyone. Him. Her. Yourself.” She pats me on the cheek and walks out with the glass in hand. The space becomes immediately unwelcoming. She’s the only source of homey warmth this place has to offer.
Everything in this house is a shiny distraction. It’s how my parents prefer it. No signs of weakness or abnormality are allowed.
The day I’d walked in with my first tattoo, you would’ve thought I committed a heinous crime. My mother glared at my forearm throughout dinner, as if she stared long enough, the nightmare would end, and the phoenix would wipe away with a warm, wet cloth.
“Only gutter rats have tattoos,” my mother said to me. This was the moment I decided not to let anyone dictate what I did and when I did it. The day also commemorates when I stopped accepting cash from them. In their world, cash means something I’m never willing to give. Control.
My hand glides up the stairway railing, and I take each step as if it will be my last. Being under their roof makes me weak. All over again, I’m the kid who hid in his closet, begging not to come down to the party because I didn’t want to play the part they expected. Even as a young kid, I had a stronghold on my destiny.
Over the top of his high back chair, my father’s head is visible. I tiptoe past, hoping not to disturb him. Old habits die hard. When safe in my childhood bedroom, I close the door, careful not to let the latch click.
To my surprise, nothing has changed. Every time I visit, my father threatens to rip my band posters off the walls. The state of the art stereo where I played hellfire loud music remains tucked in the corner. A wealth of clothes I’ve never worn hang in the closet, the door ajar. Tens of thousands of dollars were spent to make me play a part, appear to be one of them, but I always chose a simpler look. The only thing my parents could control was my school uniform. Only the best private schools and tutors’ money could buy for their son.
The dresser is clear of even one speck of dust. It’s apparent Dee’s been busy. My eyes shift to the mahogany frames filled with pictures from my childhood. Unlike the ones in Charlotte’s bedroom filled with undeniable love and admiration, mine are full of stark poses and lack any personal touch. There’s no proof of love, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t sting a little.
In the most recent photo, taken during Christmas my junior year of high school, I’m wearing a navy-blue suit. My mother knew, once I graduated and moved out, I’d never step back through those doors under their terms. She made Christmas hell for me that year.
“What are you doing here?” my father’s strong, domineering tone brings pain to my shoulders.
To anchor myself, my hands grip the edge of the dresser, preparing for the hurricane of anger he delivers. Out of my peripheral, he stands a step inside of the room, adjusting his tie.
“Happy to see you, too, Father.”
Garrett Anderson is never disheveled. To him, disorder is a crime. Dee probably irons the man’s damn underwear. He’d die before he accepted a handout, and he’s happy to remind anyone who challenges him. He’s built his wealth from the ground up without assistance from anyone else.
“Don’t forget whose roof you’re under.” He steps towards the dresser I’m seconds from splintering, and picks up the baseball he gave me for my tenth birthday. It’s signed by the starting line-up for the New York Yankees. It would’ve been a thoughtful gift, had I actually liked the Yankees.
“How could I forget when you always remind me?”
“Why are you here?” He returns the ball to its stand, leans against the dresser, and extends his legs in front of him. His stoic, reserved demeanor is another of his tactics to maintain the upper hand. Where his hatred for me comes from, I’ll never understand.
“I wanted to visit Dee.” He’ll use my honesty against me.
“You two girls gossip in the kitchen?” My father has made it a game to challenge my manhood my entire life.
At the age of eight, he called me a pussy in front of my entire soccer team because someone got me on the breakaway and scored against us. My high school championship game of my senior year, he practically kicked me down on the muddy field when we lost because he didn’t think I had done enough to get the victory.
Just like then, my hands begin to tingle, and a sheen of sweat appears on my brow. This man knows exactly what to say to make my blood boil. If I knew he wouldn’t call the cops, I’d lay his ass out right here in my childhood bedroom. He wouldn’t take the hit like a man, but dammit, it would be worth a night in jail.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” I jerk back as he wraps his hand tight around my bicep.
“What is this I hear? You had a run in with Ari St. James?” He tilts his head, assessing me and my sanity, because he and I both know no one messes with Ari St. James. “He’s a brother, Duke, and not someone you want to overstep.”
“Why do you care? Maybe I’ll end up like Jacob.” A menacing chuckle ripples from my mouth. “After all, that’s what you want, right? Make your life easier, right, if I’m not in it?”
We have a silent standoff. Neither of us is willing to lose by glancing away first.
“Boys,” my mother calls from the hallway. “Duke, where are you? Dee says you’re here.”
I sidestep my father, pulling my arm out of his grasp. “Bye, Dad.” I use the name as a weapon, and his eyes widen. The word is a reminder of what he’s not, and something he’ll never be.
“Yes, mother.” I step into the hallway. Her thin, but sculpted arms engulf me in a hug I don’t quite expect. Awkwardly, I pat her on the back, not knowing what to do. Her gentle touch is practically the Yeti of love, unseen most of the time, but appearing every once in a while.
“What a pleasant surprise.” Her eyes shift over my shoulder and lock on my father as a warning. He huffs past, our gazes following him until he enters his office. “Don’t mind him. He’s stressed.”
The effort to comfort me is commendable but unnecessary. I know I don’t mean jack shit to him.
“He’s been stressed my whole life, then.” I step back and a flash of hurt crosses her eyes.
Something strange is happening. First, she’s polite to Dee, and now she’s embracing me as if I’m the son she’s miraculously grown a heart for.
“I better go,” I state.
My mother’s shoulders hunch in defeat. “I haven’t been the best mother to you.” My eyes cast down to her hand on mine.
Hearing her say this is like a ton of bricks to my heart. I don’t know if I’m more surprised by those words coming from her mouth, or how warming they are to my soul.
“Mom, I don’t have time for this. I have a lot going on.” That may have sounded crueler than I intended.
“If you listen to anything I ever say, this is what I need you to hear.” She takes a deep breath. “When you were born, I knew you were different. You cried at all hours of the night, Duke. You were impossible, and nothing ever made you happy, but it’s not because you were a bad baby. It’s just you needed more room to roam around. You were like a caged animal in this house, and when you were set free, you spread your wings, and you soared.” Her eyes glisten with building tears. Am I hallucinating? Is she about to cry?
“Are you dying or something?” I blurt out. Regret seeps in when I realize it’s always a possibility. People die every day, and some of them take the time to tell the people in their lives how they truly feel. My stomach rises in my throat. I’m not close to my mother, but a comfort is there knowing she’s still on this earth.
She looks back towards my father’s office, a distant, sad look on her face. “No, I’m just waking up, Duke.”
What has been the catalyst for this shift between us?
My eyebrows pinch together. “I better go. You can call me, if you like.”
At my offer, the corners of her mouth stir awake and form a smile. Typically, I’d say something like this to appease her, but this time I hope she follows through.
Her smile brightens, and she nods. “I may just do that.”
An understanding passes through us. I may not fully comprehend what is going on under this roof every day, but I do know how tender and sincere she’s looking at me right now.
I hustle down the steps, taking them two at a time to escape the twilight zone I’ve just stepped into. In the foyer, Dee waits for me, a stack of Tupperware in her hands. I grab them and set them on the console table and engulf her in a tight hug.
“Do you mind explaining to me what’s been going on around here?” My eyes shift to the balcony above us. “My mother was just genuine and sincere with me.”
“I overheard a phone conversation. She mentioned divorce.” Dee pushes back from my hug, holding a finger to her lips. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Like she’s planning on divorcing the sour bastard?” My laugh echoes against the cathedral ceilings. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Dee.” I lean down and kiss her on the cheek.
“Don’t forget your food. You need to find a nice girl to cook for you, or else you’ll wilt down to nothing.”
“I’m hardly wilting away. I’m two hundred pounds, for Christ’s sake.” I showboat my bicep and lift my shirt to expose my abs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dee rolls her eyes. “If you dare to do it, bring that sweet girl who has you tied in knots around here, and don’t forget what I said. Saying I’m sorry and owning it goes a long way when you really mean it.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I swoop up the containers and wave goodbye over my shoulder.
In the small amount of time spent with Dee, an ounce of the weight has been lifted off my shoulders. She always manages to put things into perspective.
My phone rings when I’m almost back to town. The screen illuminates with Charlotte’s name, and my stomach grows twelve times its size. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? Should I be surprised? It’s Charlotte. No emotion brought on by that girl can shock me. I click the side of my phone, sending her to voicemail.
I speed through my hometown until my tires hit the highway. Forty minutes later and I’m near campus. My apartment flashes by, and the need for sleep hits me, but what I need is to get this guilt off my chest.
My phone buzzes, and Charlotte’s name pops up once again. I allow it to slip into my voicemail and don’t respond until I pull into the hospital parking lot.
Dee was right, and I’ve known it all along. It’s about damn time I start taking responsibility. I should’ve followed Charlotte into the hospital instead of dropping her off. She deserves someone willing to stand next to her and shout her worth. Lord knows Jacob doesn’t.
I don’t want to be the old version of myself, the one who denied any feelings outside of the bedroom. This moment has been inevitable since the beginning when Charlotte crawled up inside of me and refused to leave.
It’s do or die, Duke.
Prove to her you aren’t like everyone else.