Walking into my parents' house was harder on me than I had imagined. Pulling into the driveway had been enough to cause a stirring of emotion, but when I stepped past that threshold, the floodgates opened, and I found myself in a heaping mess of sobs on the sofa.
Nothing had changed. Of course, why would it have? They hadn't expected to die. Everything was just as they had left it the last day they had been alive. There was a folded over gossip magazine on the sofa that my mom had been reading. My father's coffee cup was still in the sink. It was just too much.
“I can't handle this right now,” I whimpered as I grabbed my keys and walked right back out, locking the door with shaking hands before I got in my car and drove to Sammy's Restaurant.
I walked through the door of the old-timey restaurant, took one look at the Seat Yourself sign, and dipped into the side dining room where some of the smaller booths were. The restaurant was dead, so I helped myself to the booth at the very back, though I knew it would probably be a while before the waitress found me. That was just fine by me. I still needed a bit of time to recompose myself. The drive hadn't been enough.
Five minutes went by, then ten. It was obvious that my presence had somehow been missed, but I didn't care. As long as I didn't have to go back to that house anytime soon, they could take as long as they wanted to serve me. At least, the crying had subsided, so I wouldn't feel so embarrassed when a waitress did come around the corner. To soothe myself even further, I pulled out my cell phone and brought up a game, figuring I could use it to pass the time until I was discovered.
Discovered was a good word to use. When I heard a familiar voice say my name, I thought I was going to vomit from all the unwelcome nostalgia.
“Oh my God, Tara Edwards, is that really you?” Krista sounded genuinely happy to see me.
“Yes, it's really me.” I forced a smile, though inside I was scowling so deeply that I thought it might make my face contort involuntarily. Could I not catch a break at all today?
Krista's red hair was in a hideous curly updo and she was sporting the black-and-white Sammy's waitress uniform with a big plastic name tag that left no question about her identity. Her once petite frame had packed on quite a bit of poundage. If she hadn't recognized me first, I might not have know it was her.
This was one prediction I got right, I thought mockingly, then immediately felt bad for it. She slid into the booth across from me as if she was a customer instead of an employee.
“Oh my God, how have you been?”
“I just buried my parents today, so not good.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, girl. I forgot that the funeral was today. I had wanted to come, but I couldn't get it off work.”
“It's fine,” I replied with as much kindness as I could muster.
“So aside from that, how have you been?”
“Good.” I nodded. “I live in Austin now with a roommate from college.”
“Did you finish up your accounting degree? I think I remember that's what you were going for.”
“Yeah, that's what I was going for, but no, I didn't finish it. I ended up quitting and going to cosmetology school instead. I'm a hairstylist now.”
“Oh, well that's fantastic. You can see what I'm doing now.” She gestured to the restaurant.
“Do you like it?” I asked, not really caring.
“It's alright. It pays the bills, you know. That's what life's about, paying the bills and getting by. You married?”
“No.”
“Neither am I. Got any kids?”
“No.”
“Lucky you. Don't have them. They're a handful.”
“Oh. How many do you have?”
“Just one, but he's a little shit. My mom is watching him right now.”
“How old is he?”
“He's three. His name is Darren.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I couldn't hide the shock on my face. “Oh. Wow. Is Darren the—”
“Oh, no,” she cut me off, laughing, and I internally sighed in relief, though I didn't know why. “I just like the name.”
“You had me thinking there for a minute.”
“Darren. Pfft. No. I wish. If he was the father, you think I'd be working here. I was kind of hoping he was. Even had a paternity test done with the real father to make sure he wasn't.”
Now I was shocked all over again. “You and Darren . . . dated?”
“Oh, no. We just messed around. You know, did the nasty. There aren't many girls that Darren hasn't slept with. No one's been able to get a kid off of him from what I know though. It will be a lucky woman who does. That boy is loaded now.”
Even though it shouldn't be any of my business, I found this news of Darren's promiscuity a bit disconcerting.
“It sounds like he's really changed,” I said sadly.
“Kind of. He's still a good guy. He just can't keep his dick in his pants.”
“It's weird to think of him sleeping around. I always pictured him being the type of guy who would find a nice girl and get married.”
“Yeah. Well, a lot changed after you left,” there was a twinge of something unpleasant in her voice, and I had a good idea what she was referring to.
“Krista, I'm sorry that I just disappeared like that,” I told her as sincerely as possible.
She shrugged, her happy mood quickly dissipating. “It is what it is. You wanted to get away from this place. I didn't think that meant you wanted to get away from me too.”
“I didn't want to get away from you. I was just being stupid.”
“Yeah, well, as I said, it is what it is. You seem like you're doing well, and that's all that matters, I suppose. Life goes on, you know.” She smiled weakly at me.
“I'm sorry that I hurt you,” I began to say, but she quickly cut me off by standing up and taking out her notepad.
“Enough yammering. You're busy, and I'm sure my manager is starting to wonder where I've disappeared to. What are you having?”
I ordered a chicken fried steak, though my appetite had left me the second that I heard Krista's voice. The day felt like a never-ending nightmare, and all I had to look forward to was more misery when I returned to my parents' house. I didn't regret leaving Castroville. Not one bit. The city was full of ghosts, and it seemed like they were all trying to drag me to hell.
My heart felt no less burdened when I returned to my parents' house. Now, I had my past with Krista piled onto my list of regrets. I decided to call it a night. Nothing was going to get done with the shitty mood I was in. Dejected, I climbed the stairs to my old bedroom and crawled into bed. Even seven and a half years later, nothing had changed in the room. There were still band posters on the walls and stupid little trinkets on my dresser and bedside table. It was a teenager's room, a reminder of the bitch I used to be.
Exhaustion caused me to sleep in. It was nearly noon when I awoke, and I groaned as I realized that I'd barely have time to get anything done before I had to get ready to go to dinner at Darren's parents' house. Why couldn't I have just told them no? It was going to be awkward, but at least he wouldn't be there. Maybe they would be kind enough to let me eat and leave. The faster I could get out of there, the better. The last thing I needed was another dose of guilt, which I'm sure I would feel the second I stepped foot into their home and remembered how I had abandoned their son. Hopefully, it wouldn't be brought up. But luck hadn't been on my side as of yet.
I spent what time I had trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my parents' furnishings. To be honest, the thought of letting any of their stuff go hurt me, but I knew I didn't have room for it at my apartment, and I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with having to store it all. The house needed to be sold, so it couldn't stay where it was. It was either sell or store it. There was really no other option. I puzzled over the decision for about an hour before I realized that I didn't have the heart to sell anything. Not yet. Perhaps it would be better if I just let the house, and everything in it, sit for a while. This was far more than I wanted to deal with right after burying my parents. Letting my depression get the better of me, I ended up just sitting around and watching television until it was time to go to Darren's parents' house.
I dressed comfortably in jeans, a gray blouse, and a white maxi cardigan. There was no one to impress, but I still didn't want to seem like a complete mess. Even though his parents were wealthy, they had always accepted me for who I was, no matter what I came over in.
When I rolled up in front of their house, I sighed when I saw that nothing about it had changed. Nothing in this town ever changed, it seemed. Sure, there were more shops and restaurants, but everything that mattered was the same, as if all the people were caught in the past.
I walked up the driveway with a nervous pit in my stomach. It was like strolling down a different avenue of memory lane. Would I leave any street of my past unexplored before I escaped this horrid city? I was beginning to doubt it.
Darren's mom greeted me at the door with a welcoming hug. She looked happy to see me, ushering me inside and taking me to her husband, who was sitting on the recliner in the living room reading a newspaper. He gazed up at me with a smile, though his enthusiasm was tempered. It was so rare I saw him smile genuinely that I could probably count all the times on one hand.
“I'm running a little late, dear,” Mrs. Jones told me as she steered me away from Mr. Jones and toward the kitchen.
I pulled out a chair in front of the bar and allowed her to pour me a glass of lemonade before she went to the kitchen, talking to me while she continued to prepare dinner.
“How have you been, aside from that horrible business with your parents?”
“I've been well,” I replied, not really sure what else to say.
“It's been so long since we've seen you. I must say, you've grown into quite a young woman. Tell me everything. Are you married? Seeing someone? What are you doing for a living? How's life in Austin? That's where you moved, right?”
I couldn't help but smirk at the onslaught of questions. “I'm not married, though I am kind of seeing someone, if you'd call it that. We're friends, but I think it's a little more than that too. We've been dating for a while, but it's not really official.
“Um. I'm a hairstylist now. Accounting didn't end up being for me.”
“I didn't think it would be,” she said. “All of those numbers. It seemed incredibly boring for a girl as outgoing as you.”
“I suppose you're right. Everyone tried to warn me not to go into it, but I didn't listen. Now that I think back, I don't think I listened to anyone at all when I was a teenager.”
“Don't beat yourself up over it, dear. Most teenagers don't listen. That's part of what being a teenager is all about, doing things your own way, making your own mistakes, and learning that everyone you hated to admit was right was right in the end.” She grinned, and I couldn't help but feel myself relaxing around her. I had forgotten how much I loved Darren's mother. She was so easy to talk to, always had been.
“Well, I have my fair share of regrets.”
“As we all do. Everything works out in the end though.”
“I certainly hope you're right,” I sighed, thinking of Lawrence.
A car pulled into the driveway, and I felt my chest tighten as I heard two car doors close. Please be someone I don't know, I silently begged, but when Mrs. Jones said, “Well, that would be knucklehead,” I knew it was Darren, and I suddenly felt like I wanted to vomit. The nice relaxing atmosphere completely changed with the sound of the front door being opened. If I could have melted and disappeared into the cracks between the tile, I would have, but there was no escape. I was going to have to face Darren yet again.
He strolled into the kitchen casually with Eleanor at his heels. She looked absolutely stunning in a short green day dress with her long brown hair lightly curled. A twinge of jealousy ran through me. So much prettier than I am. Well, that's what he deserves.
“Hey Mom,” Darren said, barely even glancing at me as he walked into the kitchen to give his mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey Knucklehead,” she replied with affection, though she didn't turn away from her cooking duties to kiss him back.
“What's for dinner?”
“Nothing, if you don't get out of the kitchen. Aren't you going to say hello to Tara?”
“Yo,” he greeted me dryly. Whatever kindness he had saved up for the viewing was totally gone from his voice, as if I was just a burden to him now. It made my heart ache.
“Hi Darren.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, cowering slightly from his presence. There was that strange awkwardness is my movements, the quietness of my voice. My attraction to him was shining through, and it was only a matter of time before I turned completely stupid.
Thankfully, he didn't give me long enough for that to happen. He walked around the bar, grabbed Eleanor by the hand, and lead her out onto the back porch. She was barely able to get a quick greeting in before he whisked her away, but I was glad. I didn't want to talk to her anyway.
When I heard the sliding glass door close behind them, I sighed, feeling the full weight of my misery. I never should have come here. Life was telling me that this was wrong. I needed to get away as soon as possible.
Mrs. Jones grunted at the door. “I wonder how long that one will last.”
“She seems nice,” I said, trying to keep the depression from my voice.
“They all are. Well, most of them,” her tone darkened.
“Maybe he'll settle down with this one. You never know.”
She laughed shortly, then shook her head. “No. There's only one girl I could ever see him settling down with, and she left here long ago. He hasn't been the same since. Broken, that one.”
“You're talking about me, aren't you?” I couldn't resist asking. If she was going to guilt me out, she might as well lay it on thick.
“I don't know what happened between the two of you. I just know that when you left, it tore him apart. He wasn't the only one though. You remember that horrible Krista girl?”
“Yes. I actually saw her when I went out to eat at Sammy's last night. She seems to be doing well.”
“Well,” she huffed. “After she got over her little suicide escapade, she ended up getting knocked up by some no-good passerbyer. I swear, that girl will never have her head on straight.
“At least that's one thing I can say about Darren. He's careful. I've always wanted grandbabies, but I'd be awfully upset if he had them with these harlots. I suppose I should just be happy that the worst is over for him. He's straightened out a lot these last few years.”
“What do you mean?”
“You really don't know what's been going on around here, do you?” She eyed me suspiciously.
“No.” I replied, feeling a bit shameful. “When I cut ties, I really cut them. My parents knew that talking about things around here upset me, so they stopped after a while. Well, my mom stopped. My dad was nice enough to never bring it up in the first place.”
“Well, after you left for college, Darren stayed back for a while. Him and Krista got really close, which I absolutely hated. That girl has never been anything but bad news. Then she tried to kill herself, and after that it was just a downward spiral. She got Darren into all sorts of trouble. They started drinking a lot and doing drugs. He was addicted to heroine for a while.”
My mouth fell open in shock. I couldn't ever imagine Darren becoming addicted to drugs. He had always been so clean-cut and straight edge. His future was important to him. Pleasing his parents was important to him. I couldn't picture him carelessly throwing everything away.
“So he didn't go to Colorado?” I asked.
“No. He didn't. He stayed here, wasting his time getting high. At least, that's what I thought he was doing. He'd go out at night, and party until God knows when. I stopped bothering trying to wait up for him a long time ago. He'd get into fights with his father and I all the time. He was being a real asshole. For the longest time, we thought we were going to have to kick him out. It seemed like the only times it was peaceful around here was when he was gone or asleep. If that wasn't the majority of the time, we would have kicked him out a long time ago. But that was pretty much his life. Party all night. Sleep all day. Him and that Krista girl. Gods, I swear she was the worst thing that ever happened to him.”
Or I was, I thought sadly.
“But he's better now,” I said, trying to sound hopeful.
“Yes, he's a lot better now. Thank God. Apparently, he wasn't sleeping as much as I thought. Sometime, between the partying and sleeping, he was writing. I didn't even know he had been writing until I saw him get dressed up in a suit one day and leave the house. I asked him where he was going, and he told me that a publisher wanted to meet with him.
“Even after the book came out, he didn't change his ways. It wasn't until the movie deal happened that he began cleaning himself up. Maybe he realized he was starting to have something to lose. Because before, I really don't think that he gave a crap if he lived or died. Life was about numbing whatever pain he was feeling. We couldn't fix him. Lord knows we tried.
“Anyway, he eventually sobered up, gave up drugs and drinking entirely. He couldn't seem to give up the women though. Darren was always popular with the girls, but now that he's a famous author, they flock to him. I imagine it's hard for him to resist. Still, I think it's disgusting. These poor girls. Surely, some of them have feelings for him. He's not interested in that though.”
My mind was reeling. Had I damaged him that badly? It felt like everything I touched I broke. Surely, I would go to hell for messing up the lives of so many good people. It was hard to think that my soul was redeemable.
“I'm sorry,” I said softly.
“What in the heavens for?” Mrs. Jones looked up at me, her solemn mood completely lifted, as if the previous conversation hadn't happened at all.
“I can't help but feel somehow responsible for all of this.”
“I'm not going to lie, Tara. It was easy to point the finger when everything started going down. You always seemed to be the star in Darren's life that kept him on course. But who's to say this wouldn't have happened even if you had stuck around. There's really no way to know, so there's no point in blaming. People are strange, and change is a constant in life. He would have changed with or without you. The question is how.”
While I knew her words were meant to be soothing, I still couldn't help but feel guilty for everything that had happened while I was away. I had meant so much to Darren and Krista, and I had just tossed them aside like they were nothing. I was such a selfish bitch that it was almost unbearable. It's in the past. Like she said, people change. You've changed. You're a better person now.
I sat in melancholy silence while Mrs. Jones finished making dinner, which ended up being a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a salad. When it was ready, she called everyone into the dining room where we sat around the table. We held hands and said grace, but there was little talking otherwise. I kept my eyes to my plate, afraid to look at Darren, afraid I would blush, or worse, see coldness behind his eyes. He wasn't even the same person I had encountered at the funeral home. Everything felt off.
I was never happier when dinner was over, and I was able to say my goodbyes. Even Darren stepped up to hug me then, though his embrace was so light that it could barely be considered a hug. Eleanor eyed my curiously the whole time, and I had a feeling that she didn't have any clue about the real history between Darren and I.
“You should come back before you leave town,” Mrs. Jones told me.
“I'll try to make it back if I can,” I replied, though I knew it was a lie. I was never coming back here. Never. Not ever. Even if I felt like I needed a second mother in my life, I couldn't stand being around Darren. Not after everything I'd done to him.
I went back to my parents' house and had another good cry. It felt like the longer I stayed in Castroville, the worst I felt. Maybe tomorrow I would get a visit from Daniel Delp. He would run around my yard in his five-year-old form yelling “Tara the Terror” and that would be the topper on the shit cake I'd been eating since my parents died.
I laid in bed that night and called Alice and Lawrence, telling them about every single horrible thing that had happened to me. They both offered to come down and console me, but I refused. This was my mess, and I would straighten it out. Besides, I wasn't going to be in Castroville much longer anyway. Surely, three more nights wouldn't kill me. Then again, given everything that had happened so far, I probably shouldn't be so sure.
The next morning, I woke up bright and early with a plan. To avoid running into further ghosts from my past, I decided I would just eat whatever my parents had left in the refrigerator. If I didn't leave, I couldn't run into anyone, which meant I would save myself from further misery.
As far as dealing with the house was concerned, I figured the least I could do was start boxing things up. I one hundred percent was not going to keep the house, which meant that everything would end up in storage if I didn't have the strength to deal with it right now. Though I didn't really want to mess with it, I didn't want to make it seem like I had done nothing with my days off. This stuff would have to be taken care of eventually anyway.
I started in the living room, taking my mom's knickknacks off the shelves, wrapping them carefully, and putting them in a box. How one woman could collect so much junk, I'd never know. She was on the cusp of hoarding; she had so many mismatched things set up all around the house. Little figurines of birds and bears and angels and dolphins, collectors plates and Faberge eggs. Most of it had come from the dollar store, but what few items were of worth could be sold, and the ceramics that my grandparents had done I knew I would want to keep. Everything else would probably be donated.
The sheer volume of stuff made the job a lot more laborious than I had imagined. It was almost noon before I finished boxing up the knickknacks and was able to move on to the wall hangings and pictures that were small enough to fit inside a box. Each photo of my parents and I broke my heart, and I ended up designating a separate box for the ones I wanted to bring home and display in my apartment. When I came across a photo of Darren and I playing together as kids, I thought about throwing it away. It had been hidden behind a bunch of other photos on the fireplace mantel, as if my mom had wanted to keep it but for me not to see it. I sighed, realizing that it had meant something to her and ended up placing it in the storage box instead.
Just as I was setting it down, I heard a knock on the door, and I sighed in exasperation. Could I not get a single day of peace? Thinking it was one of my relatives, I tried to put on a pleasant face as I went to open the door. My expression sulked when I actually saw the person behind it though.
Darren stood there, looking around absently, holding a pie of some sort in his hand. His eyes quickly darted back to me, and a smile crossed his lips, making me feel all sorts of strange mixed emotions.
“Hi,” he greeted me.
“Hi,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.
“My mom thought you might be hungry, so she made this chicken pot pie for you.” He held out the pie as if it were a peace offering.
“That was sweet of her.” I gave him my best fake smile before reaching out to take the pie, which was still warm from the oven.
“She also suggested that I offer you my help.”
“That won't be necessary,” I said quickly, shaking my head and stepping back inside.
“Well, can I least come inside for a minute then? I'd like to see the house one last time before you dismantle it.”
His words stung like a slap, as if he thought I was trying to destroy the home I had grown up in. Part of me didn't want to let him in, but I knew that was the selfish part of me, the part of me that I desperately wanted to shed.
“Come in,” I told him, stepping away from the door to allow him inside.
He walked in, looking around as if he was seeing the place for the first time. I blatantly stared at his ass. He was wearing cutoff shorts, very casual, probably in preparation to get his hands dirty if I agreed to let him help. His butt was thicker than I remembered it being. It used to be such a small almost non-existent thing. Now it was filled out with muscle. Very nice to look at.
“Wow. You've gotten a lot done in a short time,” he commented, walking into the living room and peering down into the box that had all the pictures in it. I cringed as he picked up the one of him and I playing together as kids. “I remember this.” He turned to me with a smile.
“Do you? I don't. We were so young then,” I replied, stepping up beside him to look at the picture.
“Yeah. That was the calm before the storm,” he laughed.
“What do you mean?”
“Right after this picture was taken, you bite me, and I ripped the head off of one of your dolls. You didn't talk to me for almost a week afterward.”
I couldn't help but grin. “What did I bite you for?”
“I don't remember. You were being a brat, as usual.”
“I was not a brat when I was little.”
“Yes, you were,” he insisted with a smirk. “Always following me around. I couldn't get rid of you. Back then, I thought I wanted to get rid of you,” his voice trailed off, and I could hear the pain behind it.
I took a deep breath. “That was a long time ago. I should put this pie in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, go ahead.” He continued to stare at the picture solemnly as I left him there to put the pie on the stove. Tendrils of guilt and pain wound through my heart. Why couldn't I have one day of peace, one day to escape the guilt? Was this God's way of punishing me for all I had done?
I get it God, I really do. I screwed up. I screwed up badly. You've punished me enough for one week. You've taken away my parents, made me face all the guilt I tried to forget. I understand that this is my karma. But could you please just give me a break? I don't know how much more of this I can handle.
My silent prayer was interrupted by the sound of footsteps going up the stairs. Oh, great. Now what? I rounded the corner to find Darren climbing the stairs to my room.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not bothering to hide my displeasure.
“I'm going to see your room.” He turned to me, looking innocent and sickeningly delicious.
“I didn't say you could.”
“You gonna stop me?”
“We're not kids anymore, Darren. You can't get your way this time.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
He shrugged, then turned from me and continued up the stairs.
I sighed, following him up and into my room. He looked at it with the same wonder as he had the living room. Though this time, it was probably because nothing had changed.
“Wow. I can't believe your parents never took all of this stuff down,” he said, gesturing to the posters on the walls.
“I know,” I sighed. “I guess my mom just couldn't get over her empty-nest syndrome."
“I guess not.” He sat down on my bed, bouncing a few times as if to test it out. “It's exactly how I remember it. You know, of all the times I came over here after you left, I never came up to your room.”
“I didn't know that.” I crossed my arms over my chest again, trying to show him with my body language that it was time to leave.
Darren glanced at me for a moment, ignoring the obvious signs before he looked around my room again. “Same posters. Same girly knickknacks. Same bed.” His eyes shot up to me as he spoke about the bed, running his hand over the comforter. There was something dark behind them, something seductive. I felt my heart skip a beat, knowing we were both recalling the same memory.
“Yup. Nothing's changed,” I laughed nervously.
“You should really let me help you pack up this stuff,” he said, his mood suddenly shifting, as if the intimate moment between us had never happened.
“I really don't need the help.” I shook my head, wondering if I had only imagined that strange look in his eyes.
“I insist. This place is a treasure trove of memories. I'd be interested to see what we would uncover.”
“Again, I don't think that's a good—”
“I'm not giving you an option,” his voice was too lighthearted for me to get angry at him.
With a sigh, I surrendered. “Fine. Let me just go get some more boxes from downstairs, and we'll start packing this stuff up. I was going to save this room for last, but I suppose if you want to go through it all so badly.”
“Oh, I do,” he replied with a charming smile that made naughty parts of me water. I hate you so much right now, I thought, though I knew I didn't mean it. I just hated what he was doing to me. Did he know he was manipulating me? Probably. This never would have worked on me before. But now . . . Now things were different. He was different. I was different. We were different.
As I went to the garage to look for more boxes, I thought of how conflicted I felt about Darren. He made it seem like he genuinely wanted to be around me. What was with all the coldness yesterday at his parents' house? I wished I could go back in time to the point in life where I knew him well, where I could figure out what he was thinking without him having to say anything.
When I returned upstairs, Darren was laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I quickly went to work putting the boxes together, trying to avoid looking at him.
“This bed is so uncomfortable. . . and small. I can't believe we slept on it together all that time,” he commented.
“We were both smaller back then,” I said, feeling incredibly nervous.
“You're right.” He sat up, watching me while I worked. “We were both smaller back then.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I stopped what I was doing, staring at him with my mouth agape. Part of me was just pretending to be offended, but part of me wondered if he really did think I was fat. I hadn't gotten that much bigger, had I? Sure, I had piled on the freshman fifteen, but I had always been a relatively small girl.
“Not fat. I'm just saying you've filled out, is all.”
“Well what about you? You got bigger too.”
“I suppose I did.” He looked down at his chest. “Mine is all muscle though. Yours is . . . more womanly.”
“So you are calling me fat!” I gasped, abandoning the boxes to grab a pillow off my bed and smack him with it. He instantly cowered, laughing.
“No. No. Truce. Truce. Please,” he begged as I whacked him a few more times.
“Jerkface. I haven't seen you in five plus years, and you tell me I got fat. I bet that's just fat under that shirt there. You probably got all puffy too and are just telling me it's muscle.” I threw the pillow down on the bed and returned to the boxes, taping the bottoms, so they wouldn't bust open when it was time to carry them downstairs.
Darren was making no move to help, and when I glanced back up at him, I was surprised to see that he was unbuttoning the front of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, completely dumbstruck. My expression was shocked, but my eyes followed the buttons as they descended down his body, each one revealing rippling muscle beneath. Oh my God, this is so not the Darren I used to know.
“You think it's fat. I'm showing you it's not.”
“I don't need to see.” I averted my eyes, though my peripheral vision couldn't be dragged away from him as he stood up and shrugged the shirt off, revealing a body that was all chiseled man.
“Come here.”
“Why?”
“Just come here.”
“No.”
“Tara,” he gave me his warning voice.
With an overly dramatic sigh, I stood up and shuffled over to him, feeling like a small child about to get chastised by their parents. In reality, I was acting like a brat. Stupidity had kicked in the second the shirt had come off.
He reached out and grabbed my hand, placing it on his chest. The skin to skin contact made my body go into heated overload. I suddenly felt weak. What was he doing? What was he doing to me? Why was he doing this?
“See, all muscle,” he said, his voice completely gentle.
I felt paralyzed, not sure of what to say or do. He placed his hand on top of mine, guiding it down his body and across his stomach. Each time my fingertips fell into an indention, my heart skipped a beat, my mind going crazy with all sorts of inappropriate images that I never thought my brain could ever conjure about Darren. Something inside of me was raging with a desire so strong that I thought it might consume and kill me where I stood. It wasn't right, but I couldn't fight it.
“Are you afraid?” he asked, perhaps seeing the nervousness on my face.
“No.”
“You should be.”
His words caught me off guard, and when I looked up at his face to try to find the meaning, all I could see behind his blue eyes was a lust that burned as brightly as my own.
“Why?” I asked weakly.
“Because you're in a bedroom alone with me, and I want you desperately.”
When he bent to press his lips against mine, I didn't move. His kiss was warm and comforting and everything I needed in that moment. He waited for me to reciprocate, lingering. My heart pounded in ears, almost deafening. Everything around me disappeared. It was just our lips, the soft feel of them contoured to each other.
Think of Lawrence, my mind screamed. This would be a betrayal. You don't know this guy anymore. He's been fucking other women. Think of Eleanor. Yes, Eleanor. What about Eleanor?
“What about Eleanor?” I stepped away from him, letting my mouth echo what my brain had said to me.
“What about her?”
“You're with her now.”
“She means nothing to me.”
“And me? Do I mean anything to you?” I looked into his eyes, wondering if he'd lie to me or tell me the truth.
“Do you want to mean something to me?” he asked.
I thought about it for a moment. Yes. No. I was so confused. Why did this have to happen when I was so emotionally vulnerable?
I was about to open my mouth to reply when Darren took a step back and put his hands up in surrender. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come on to you like that. I know what this is, I really do. Once you're done with this house, you'll leave again. So, let's just get on with business. I told you I wanted to help you with this room, and I meant it. I didn't mean to over-complicate things.”
I sighed in relief. “Thank you, Darren. That really means a lot to me.”
“Best friends to the end, right,” he mimicked something I had once said to him long ago, and I thought I heard a twinge of pain in his voice.
“Um. I'll take the closet. You can start on the dresser. Just wrap up everything you find and stick it in the box. I'm going to move everything to storage. I'll go through it later,” I told him, wanting to get back to work as quickly as possible. Things had gotten really weird really fast. The sooner we were done, the sooner he would leave.
“Sounds good.”
I retreated to the closet, opening it up to the wonders left behind. In the corner was a box filled with old photo albums. I knew better than to go through them with Darren around. Most of the pictures in them were of him and I, though there were some of Krista and my other friends as well. What clothes that were left on the rack were too small for me to wear. That thought was a bit depressing. Then again, my style had changed a lot since high school.
I decided to close the box with the pictures and tape it shut before Darren had a chance to get his hands on it. Then I went downstairs to get a plastic trash bag to put the clothes in. They would get donated on my way back into town. When I came back upstairs, Darren was busily wrapping some of my knickknacks. He didn't even bother to look at me, which I was completely fine with. The less contact we had, the better, though I must admit I did enjoy stealing a glance at his shirtless back every now and then.
The top shelf of my closet was lined with various junk: a backpack, an old lava lamp, a lanyard making kit, some children's books that had been up there since I was an infant. Why I never got rid of this stuff when I was living at home, I didn't know. The closet was used just as much for storage as it was for clothes.
“Look at this,” Darren said from the bedroom, and when I emerged to see what he was talking about, he was holding up an old notebook.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a few steps out of the closet for a better look.
“It's the notebook we used to play hangman with.”
“Wasn't that originally yours?”
“It was. I don't remember leaving it over here.”
I smirked at the memory that came racing back to me. “You didn't. I stole it from you.”
“You stole it from me?” He looked surprised. “Why would you do that? It was my lucky notebook.”
“I don't see how it was possibly lucky.” I quirked an eyebrow at him.
“It just was.” He shrugged.
“The only thing I remember about that notebook is that I dreaded seeing you pull it out.”
“Why?” he laughed at me.
“Seriously? Playing hangman with you was horrible. Your vocabulary was always so much better than mine.”
“What does that have to do with you stealing my notebook?”
“Because you were anal about using every single page in that stupid thing. Every time you brought it over you wanted to play hangman. And I always lost, which wasn't very fun for me. I thought that if I stole it from you, you'd stop asking to play.”
“Did it work?”
“For the most part. You did ask one time after, but I shot you down, and we never played again. I consider stealing it from you one of my childhood victories.”
“We should play again, after we're done.” He waved the notebook at me.
I grabbed it from him and smacked him on the arm with it before tossing it in the box he was working on. “Get back to work.”
“I'm serious. I'm sure your vocabulary has gotten better over the years.”
“Says the author. I already know I'm no match for you,” I replied, stepping back into the closet to finish up.
“I promise I'll use small words,” I could hear the humor in his voice, and I couldn't help but grin.
“No. I hate that notebook. I should burn it.”
“Well if you're just going to burn it, then I'm going to take it back.”
“Why?”
“Because it brings me good luck.”
“Fine. Whatever. Dork.”
I finished packing the closet with a smile on my face. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, it was really starting to feel good having Darren around. He reminded me of home and happier times, and despite the awkward kiss, I was still comfortable around him.
When I finished with the closet, I started taking all the posters off the walls. Darren helped, and we laughed and talked about all the memories that had been made in the room. All the non-sexual memories, of course. We didn't really need to talk about that memory. Every time I glanced at his shirtless frame, I thought about it, still unable to believe this delicious man used to be the scrawny boy who I gave my virginity to.
“What now?” Darren asked when the room was completely packed up.
“I guess we're done,” I said, standing beside him to gaze upon the now barren walls.
“There's still a lot of work to be done. I wouldn't mind helping out some more. I like going through all the old memories.”
“I wouldn't mind that either,” I replied, thinking about how lonely I would be once he had left.
We parted ways, and each took a bathroom. I gave him the guest bathroom while I went through my parents' bathroom. It was no surprise when he finished way before me. He stood in the doorway of my parents' bathroom, his back to me, staring at the unmade bed. I could almost feel what he was thinking, sense the depression rolling through him.
“Maybe you should go work in the garage, on my dad's things. I know you guys were close, and to be honest, I really don't know what most of that stuff is. In fact, if there are any tools you want, just go ahead and take them. I know he'd want you to have them,” I told him, sounding as sympathetic as possible.
“I appreciate that,” he replied solemnly, and then he was gone.
Being alone gave my body a chance to cool down from the heat that Darren's presence caused, but it also gave me time to think, which isn't always a good thing. I liked having Darren around. I liked it too much. And, to be honest with myself, I had liked it when he kissed me. I wanted more, wanted to give myself to him, wanted to feel the man he had become.
Had his words meant anything when he asked if I wanted to mean something to him? Perhaps I did still mean something to him. Maybe I meant more to him than I did to Lawrence. It was a strange thing to think, and the thought filled me with guilt.
My needs were shifting. They had been for a while. I was tired of being alone. I wasn't getting any younger, and the truth was that the older I got, the more I did feel the need to get married and have children. Being back in Castroville, thinking about the lives of my parents, the lives of Darren's parents, hell, even the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, I realized that I wanted something like that too. Would I ever have that with Lawrence? Could I have something like that with Darren? Or was it all just wishful thinking? Was I being selfish again? I had thrown Darren away, and now I was thinking about . . . Holy crap, what was wrong with me?
I tried to push such thoughts out of my mind as I continued working into the night. Instead, I focused on what I would do with the money from the house. Maybe it was time for Alice and I to start thinking about having a house of our own. A house of our own. It made us sound like lesbians. That's not how things are supposed to happen. You don't buy a house for you and your friend. You buy a house to have a family. I sighed, my mind back on thoughts of what my life was lacking. Perhaps I should use some of the money to take a vacation and get my head on straight again.
At around eight o'clock, I stopped working to heat up the pie. Darren would probably be hungry, and I figured there was no better way to thank him than to let him have dinner with me, if he even waned to have dinner with me. For all that I knew, he had plans with Eleanor tonight.
When I finished heating up the pie in the oven, I went out to the garage to retrieve Darren. He was sitting on one of my dad's old tool boxes with a magazine in his hand. It looked like he had gotten a lot of work done. All the shelves were clear, though most of the stuff was piled into a corner. There were three boxes that had already been packed and taped, and another box that was half full of what looked to be Christmas decorations.
“Darren,” I said softly.
“Oh.” He looked up at me, startled. “Well, that's embarrassing. I offer to help, and you catch me taking a break.”
“No, it's fine. It looks like you got a lot done. I was thinking we should quit for the night anyway.”
“Did you know your dad was subscribed to Car and Driver?” He held up the magazine.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Neither did I. But, it's a new issue, so he must be.” He tossed the magazine down onto the floor before standing up, his gorgeous body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. I found myself biting my bottom lip as I gazed upon him, though as soon as our eyes met, I turned away, blushing.
“I thought we could eat some of that pot pie your mother had you bring over, if you're hungry, that is.”
“I'm famished.”
“Good.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear as I led the way into the kitchen.
Darren lined up behind me to get a slice of pie and a glass of water, then we took our plates to the dining room table and ate together in near silence. By the pace at which he was consuming his food, he hadn't lied about being famished. It was amusing to watch him eat with such enthusiasm.
“What?” he asked when he caught me grinning at him.
“Nothing. You just look very hungry,” I giggled.
“I am. Haven't eaten all day.”
“You should have told me. I would have fed you sooner.”
“It's fine. You still owe me a game of hangman after this.”
I groaned. “Please, no. I thought you were kidding. I'm really not in the mood.”
“It's the least you could do after I helped you. I promise we won't play for long.” He gave me puppy eyes that I couldn't resist.
“Fine. Only two games though. I get one word. You get one word. And yours better not be hard. I'm exhausted, and I want to go to bed soon.”
“Fine. Fine. You sound like an old woman,” he teased me, getting up from the table to take our plates to the sink and run upstairs to retrieve the notebook.
I rested my head on the table, upset at myself for giving in. It was already almost nine o'clock, and all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. Still, a quick game wouldn't hurt, and after everything he'd done for me and all I'd put him through, I felt like I did at least owe him that much.
He walked down the stairs, slid back into his chair, and flipped the notebook to its first blank page, quickly marking out the spaces for four letters.
“You ready?” he asked, practically wiggling with excitement. It was hard not to grin at how adorable he was being.
I sighed, playing the part of the brat again. “I suppose. Let's get on with it. T.”
“Nope.” He drew the stick man's head.
“I.”
“Man, you're so bad at this.” He drew the body.
“R.”
He drew an arm.
“Fuck my life. This is a word I don't know, isn't it?”
“You know it,” he insisted.
“P.”
Another arm.
“W.”
A leg.
“J.”
Another leg.
“F.”
The noose.
“I give up. What is it?”
“That's not how the game is played.”
“Darren, I'm tired and I'm getting frustrated. Have mercy.”
“Fine,” he sighed, obviously disappointed.
I watched as he filled in the letters. Love. The word was love. My heart sank, though I didn't know why.
“It's your turn,” he told me, passing the notebook over.
I scratched out eleven spaces.
“I thought we agreed no big words.” He quirked an eyebrow at me.
“And I thought you had a big vocabulary.” I smirked at him.
“I do, but this hardly seems fair.”
“It's not a hard word.”
“I'll take your word for it. Q.”
“What in the world would make you start with the letter Q?” I laughed at him as I drew the hangman's head.
“Because I remember that when we were little you always used to try to trick me by using words with weird letters.”
“It truly amazes me how you retained so much about our childhood.”
“It was a special time to me. The best in my life.”
His words made me feel guilty, but they also caused warm stirrings. It was some of the best times of my life as well, I was just too prideful to admit it. How could I possibly tell him that? Sure, life was good now, but it wasn't the best. It wasn't as good as it could be.
“S,” he continued with the game.
“There are two s's.” I penciled them in at the end of the word.
“The word is forgiveness.”
“How did you know?” I looked up at him in surprise.
“Because I know you, Tara.” His expression was serious. “It's late. I should go.”
I sat there dumbstruck while he pulled himself up from the table, and I listened to his footsteps as he ran up the stairs to get his shirt. It wasn't until I heard him walking back downstairs that I found the strength to move, meeting up with him to show him to the door. What a strange night it had been. And what was even stranger was that I didn't want him to go. Somehow, it felt like I was losing him, like if he walked out that door, it would be the last time I ever saw him again. Everything in me didn't want that, but I knew I couldn't stop it. We were different people now. Soon, I would have to go back to living my life, and he would have to go back to living his. Still . . .
Darren turned to me as I held the door open for him. His attention was split between buttoning up his shirt and giving me a charming smile. I wasn't sure why he had bothered to put the shirt back on. He was absolutely filthy beneath it. We were both in need of a shower.
“Well, I'd say that I'll see you around, but I'm guessing that's probably not true,” he said.
“Who knows? I didn't expect to see you today, and here you are.”
“I suppose that's right. Well then, see you around, I guess.” He turned to leave, and it felt like a piece of my heart was going with him.
“Darren,” my voice was strained and desperate.
“Yeah.” He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.
My heart was pounding in my ears as if it was trying to distract my brain from the words I wanted to say. This was a delicate time. If I said what I was thinking, I knew what it would mean. Would I just be setting myself up for more guilt that I couldn't erase?
“What if I said I didn't want you to go.” I forced the words out.
He turned to me, a serious expression on his flawless face. “What if I said I didn't want to go?”
“Then don't go.”
Before he even made it all the way back inside, our lips were pressed together. This time, I reciprocated. Oh God, did I reciprocate. My mouth moved on top of his hungrily, heatedly, needily. It was all I could do to kick the door closed as we wrapped around each other, kissing and touching and groping.
His body was a playground to my hands, exploring him like a blind stranger, lingering on his back and his shoulders. All the while, his lips tasted my skin, moving from my mouth to my cheek and down my neck. I groaned in pleasure, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the sin I was committing and loving every minute of it. This is how it should have been from the beginning with us. Why hadn't I felt like this the first time?
Darren picked me up and carried me upstairs. Once we were in my room, he tossed me onto the bed, staring down at me as he began unbuttoning his shirt. I decided to speed up the process by working on his pants at the same time. He couldn't help but grin.
When his shirt was off and his pants had fallen down around his ankles, we shifted our attention to undressing me. His hands worked feverishly to strip me of the tank top I was wearing, his lips coming to meet mine as soon as it was over my head. We fell onto the bed together, kissing passionately while he took off my pants.
Moments later, we were both naked, and my mind and heart were fighting an epic battle of morals and willpower. Is this right or wrong? What will happen after this? What if I just hurt him again? What if he hurts me? What about Lawrence? What about Eleanor? What about . . . Oh, fuck it. He's too fucking hot and I need him too fucking bad.
Our bodies collided like waves breaking against rock. We crashed into each other, swirling in the euphoria of our coupling. There was no uncertainty behind his blue eyes. He wasn't the trembling boy I knew before. Darren was all man, confident and experienced.
My parents probably heard me from their graves. The way his tongue and mouth moved over my body, the way his cock thrust inside of me, reaching all of my most sensitive erogenous zones. If I had ever had better sex, I certainly couldn't remember it.
And it seemed to last forever. All of our exhaustion faded when our bodies tangled together. It was like we hadn't even worked that day at all. He pounded on top of me, lifted me up and pressed me against the wall, held my hands hostage while he had his way with me, then when his body finally began to give out, I crawled on top of him and rode him until we both plummeted over the edge of ecstasy.
By the time he groaned out his pleasure, and I stilled on top of him, I was pretty sure we had broken every spring in that mattress. It wasn't even fit for donating now.
“Holy shit,” I panted against his chest.
He let out a contented laugh while affectionately raking his fingers through my hair. All I could feel was sweat and soreness and happy. Satiated wasn't even the right word.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“I'm glad you thought so.”
“What? You didn't?” I crawled over the side of Darren, trapping myself between him and the wall.
“I did, I just don't usually talk about it afterward.” He grinned at me.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No. By all means, inflate my ego.”
“You're a jerkface,” I told him, though there was no malice in my voice. I was sickeningly happy, guiltily happy. I didn't deserve to be this happy, not after what I had done.
“Well, this jerkface hates to fuck and run, but I should probably get going,” he said, sitting up.
I promptly put my hand on his chest and tried to force him back down, but he wouldn't budge. “No,” I complained.
“No?” He quirked an eyebrow at me.
“I said you couldn't go. You're not leaving.”
“Still demanding, I see.”
“Not usually. Just tonight.”
“Just tonight.” The words sounded cold on his lips, but he laid back down anyway, wrapping an arm around me to draw me close.
Just tonight. I laid my head on his chest, remembering the last time we had ended up sleeping naked together in my bed. That time, I had been trying to pretend that I loved him. This time, it was a whole lot easier. Darren brought out something in me that I missed, something that I thought made me a better person. Just for tonight, I would love him, and I would mean it with every fiber of my being. But then I got to thinking, did it really have to be just tonight.