Blue Dream (4 page)

Looking down at the menu, which hadn't looked appetizing moments before, suddenly looks like the perfect mirage to a dying woman wandering the desert. “Can we have something to start? Bread maybe. I love French Bread.”

“When'd you start using food to deal with your emotions?”

In a whisper I deny, “I don't.”

“You and Xander fight, you grab something to munch on. Mints. Chips. A cookie. It's your natural default. You clam up your emotions and then shove something inside your mouth like you're silencing yourself. When did that start?”

“I don't know,” I mumble and fight down the urge. If only she knew how much better about it I've gotten. Talking situations out has never worked for me. Listening. Waiting. Playing the odds, that's what I do. That's what I've done for years. Fully opening yourself up for another person, exposing your essence for someone to empty their own opinions, judgments, and baggage into you? For you to carry that weight? For you to keep it even when they exit abruptly? Never again.

“The guy you kissed in the rain,” she leads. “Did you eat when you two fought?”

“We didn't fight,” the words pour out of me while my finger runs around the rim of the flute.

“You didn't fight?”

I look up sharply. “Do you fight with your Chardonnay?”

“Of course not.”

“Because the point of it is to relax you. To make you feel good. That's what dating Ryder was like. All he ever wanted was to make me feel good...”

“Almost,” I whimper grabbing onto his t-shirt. “Almost..”

“That's it Pres,” he encourages, his hot breath dripping down my ear, as my muscles tense around him. “Come for me, baby. Fall apart...”

That's all it takes. My body explodes and I claw for something to steady me while I arch up towards the heavens that are calling me home. Soft moan after moan flood out of me as Ryder's legs, which are cradling me, hold me tighter, trapping me in the moment. Trapping me in the exhilaration of ecstasy. Turning me from the tamed tiger I'm known for being into the primitive animal that only knows survival. Every orgasm feeds that need. I need Ryder to survive.

His fingers slide out of me at the same time he kisses the side of my forehead. “I don't know if I'm addicted to your moans or you coming.”

Giggling, I wiggle my shorts back into place, thankful the blanket is still covering us. “Both?”

“Both,” he agrees with a slow nod.

Casually I look up to see his bright blue eyes shimmering, shining as if he was just given three wishes by a Genie, as if he's hit the billion dollar lottery. The glisten is one I live to see. One I'd give my last drop of blood to become an immortal image. Whenever I'm around, there's always that light. That light reminds me I don't have to look like other girls to be wanted. That light that reminds me it's not about race but romance. Not the volumes of skin tone, but thundering roars of body language.

“You know when you look at me like that it just makes me wanna marry you faster.” Ryder kisses my left hand on top of my promise ring. “God, I can't wait to marry you.” He kisses it again. “I can't wait for you to become Mrs. Collins and have tons of kids.”

“Ryder was intoxicating,” my face helplessly smirks. “Everything he said, all the pictures he painted, the amount of love he poured out of him and into me, was like drowning in euphoria. I don't remember if I ate when things got tough. I don't remember consuming anything more than him whenever he was around.”

“Sounds like he was an addiction.”

Seeing her point come to light, I lean back and lift my glass. I stare at the bubbles remembering how bubbly I was once known for being. How these bubbles will fade like I did.

“Do you feel over time you became dependent on him?”

“I think often in relationships when couples fall in love they do. Especially when you're young.”

“Have you ever felt dependent with Xander?”

“No.”

“What about the men since Ryder? Do you feel you had dependency issues with any of them?”

I hesitate to answer. “No.”

“What do you feel made Ryder special?”

Once more my face seems to deny my brains instructions. My lips curl upward. I whisper, “Everything...”

Katherine doesn't smile in return. Her serious doctor face reminds me of how distant she was when we first met. She was cold. Professional. There wasn't any indication to imply we would ever develop a friendship. It's funny how life takes unexpected turns.

“How did the two of you end?”

Sometimes I'm not sure we ever did. Watching the fire of our relationship starve for oxygen to continue to grow nearly killed me. The things that happened, things that even ten years later I find myself looking for justifications to forgive what should be unforgivable, were flames, burning more than our skin, leaving more than scars, severing our vitality. By the end of our final time together, I wasn't sure there was even an ember left. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if the wind blew on it just right. Would a spark be found?

“Did you actually end?”

I remain silent.

“This only works if you talk to me, Presley.” The waiter starts to speak when she raises a hand to stop him. She insists we will order shortly, for now refills would be all. Her eyes never leave mine. “I need you to answer some of these questions.”

“I don't have those answers.”

Surprised by my response she tilts her head. “I'm assuming at some point you saw him with other girls.” The words cause a sting to my system. An immediate need to create a callous calls to me. My hand twitches for the bread that I don't remember being delivered.  “Other females relishing in the love that was once yours. Being fulfilled by the bliss you swore was only intended for you. Do you remember the first time?”

I fiddle with my skin tight jeans and tank top which is underneath my black spirit team jersey we made over the summer like we do every year. Being the captain of “The Spirit Club” I’m expected to be at every game, so if I would've missed it, I may have lost my title. “Was this really necessary to wear?”

One of the best things about The Spirit Club was the sisterly bond we prided ourselves on creating. I'd been doing it since freshman year. It was how I met Carmen when she transferred from the private school she got kicked out of. While cheerleaders were expected to make the signs they held up at the games, it was our job to decorate the hallways, the cafeteria, and the ones to hold up signs in the crowd during the game. We were to be the cheerleaders off the field without the seven pounds of makeup and ability to do flips or spell really loud. Carmen hates all the school spirit but loves spending time with me, so she deals with it.

“You have a killer rack and it needs to be displayed to catch some new meat.”

I don't want or need new meat. I need more sleep. More darkness in the solitude I've started to call my bedroom. More Oreos from the stash hidden in my night stand next to the latest DVD cases, which hold the movies I cry myself to sleep to. Most likely that will be how I spend the rest of my life.

She tosses her copper colored hair around and slides on her sunglasses. “Those jeans are so hot they could hurt somebody.”

“Yeah like me,” I sigh and watch her make heads turn with every step we take closer to the stadium.

It's hard enough keeping self-confidence when you're the spot in the snow storm, the token minority people want around so they feel less racist, the girl with woman curves that make others feel inferior. Add having a best friend who is easy on the eyes and easy to get in the sheets, just makes me even more invisible. Ryder always saw me. Ryder always saw only me.

I take a long deep breath as I approach the team who has been waiting for me to show my face.

The girls giggle and mad rush me with arms held out. “Presley!”

Hugging back the three that are present, I make note to question where the other half of the team is. It's not a requirement to come to every home game for them, but they're supposed to come to as many as they can. Spread ourselves out a bit through the stands to give bigger support.  I smile the best smile I can, and follow them over to where they were parked. Taking the seat in the middle while Carmen sits beside me, I enjoy the other girls surrounding me. The bubble of joy is the first nibble of normality I've had since Ryder broke up with me over a week ago.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” one of the freshman girls pipes out, the ribbons in her hair swaying in the breeze.

“And why wouldn’t I?” I knew the answer to that. The entire damn school knew the answer to that. When we started dating, Ryder and I were very much the 'it' couple. We didn't get voted homecoming king and queen, but we were the couple others strove to be like. We were the couple girls would use to complain to their boyfriends about when they weren't getting enough hand holds or love notes. We were known through the grades as 'that couple' whose bond could never be broken. And then it was. Even now I'm not completely sure why. Sometimes when I lie in bed and replay his final words to me, I swear there's something behind them, something more to them, some mystery he wanted me to solve and save him from.

The freshman, slyly points a few bleachers over to Ryder who's strolling in. He's not alone.

My lips press together as my heart begins to speed up like it was given a shot of adrenaline straight into it. There's a tingling on my tongue. I need to put something on it. Something to take away the bitter burning sensation that's searing my senses. I turn to Carmen and snap, “Gum?”

Briefly baffled by the abrupt change of subject, she casually pulls a piece out of her bag.

The immediate flavor flows across my taste buds, pushing my nerves back towards a level I can deal with. “Ryder has a new girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend is a strong word for that girl,” the freshman, whose name I need to remember, jokes.

Suzie, a junior who joined us her freshman year, leans over my shoulder and states, “That girl has slept with half the football team on our side and the opposing.”

Raising my eyebrows I lean back. “You know her?”

“Unfortunately she’s in my grade.” My eyes can't seem to stop from staring. Her long in the front short in the back bobbed hair. Her fair freckled skin. Her clothes that look like they're suffocating rather than hugging in a complimentary sense. All of this I could see past. The way his hand is intertwined with hers....I can't. I miss most of the details about my replacement, but come back just as Suzie announces, “...not to mention she just transferred into your marketing class as of Monday.”

The mint flavor in the gum has vanished. There's no reason it shouldn't still be lingering. None at all. I need something else. I need...something to bathe my taste buds.

“You two were like Brad and Jen,” Carmen starts to ramble. “I guess that’s his Angelina.”

Now it's a war. Now instead of watching us with jealousy jumping in their eyes, people are watching to see what we're really made of. Who's stronger? Who can get over who faster? Who is going to save face and who is going to lose it? The entire school is waiting to see who has not only the better hand, but the better poker face. Funny how quickly the world that claims to love you can't wait to see you fall. My problem isn't falling. It's surviving once I hit the cement.

Carmen looks unimpressed at the sight of them. “Name?”

“Bambi. Bambi Summers.”

Carmen and I turn around as we snap in tandem, “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could,” Suzie sighs before she starts to giggle.

“Clearly her parents had a thing for Disney,” the freshman comments.

“Or were high as shit like mine,” Sunny, another senior chuckles. “What happened between you guys anyway? There's a rumor he dumped you because he thought you were getting too fat.”