Breaking Elle (10 page)

I had a hard time getting to sleep last night so I’m going for a run, hoping that it will help with the anxiety I’ve been feeling. When I enter the bright kitchen, it seems like I’m not the only one who had problems sleeping last night. My mom’s pacing back and forth in front of the open patio doors, drinking coffee that is probably mixed with the whiskey that’s sitting on the counter She’s wearing baggy pajama pants and a white tank top. Her hair is back in a loose bun; her eyes are glazed and puffy like she’s been up all night.

Apparently, Corey didn’t come home last night; this is the second time this week. The first time Corey gave my mom the excuse that he had to work out of town. Since they’ve been together, he’s never worked out of town or taken any business trips. Seems rather coincidental that this is all happening the same time they’ve been having some major arguments. There’s no need for me to say anything; she knows that I know what she’s trying to hide.

“Hey, hon. Working this morning?” she asks, taking a disturbingly long sip of her coffee. A breeze carries through the kitchen from the open patio door, blowing loose strands of hair around my mom’s face. Even with no sleep, she is stunning and graceful.

“Yes, I’m gonna take a run first,” I reply as I lace up my sneakers, pull my hair back in a ponytail, and grab my iPod.

“Since when do you run in the morning?” she replies.

For a second, she loses her balance and reaches for the kitchen counter to steady herself, spilling some of the coffee on the kitchen floor. I grab some paper towels to clean up the spill, throw the alcohol soaked towel in the trash, and wash my hands at the sink.

“Since now. Why? Do you want me to stay?” I ask. She lowers her head to avoid making eye contact with me because she knows I’m not going to keep my mouth shut about this. I can’t just ignore this; she’s my mom.

“No, honey. This is my problem.” She sets the mug down, staring at it for a minute before she raises her eyes to me. She appears fragile, almost on the cusp of breaking.

“Is that the best way to deal with it?” I point towards the bottle of whiskey. “Are you sure you want to take this route?” I plead. Despite my mixed feelings, I want so much to be there for her, but all she does is push me away.

“For now.” She nods. “Don’t hassle me honey; it relaxes me.” She grabs the bottle and hides it in the cabinet. Corey didn’t leave the whiskey in the cabinet, and that bothers me. My mom never drinks.

“Take yoga or Pilates.
That’s
relaxing. It wasn’t because of yesterday, was it?”

She gazes at me with her swollen eyes. “This has nothing to do with you or your brother. Don’t even think that, okay. We just need time to cool down. Some things just have to run their course, and sometimes…” her voice gets lost as she turns and looks out the patio doors.

“So, we have to hurt for things to run their course? Haven’t you had enough of that?” I implore, frustrated with the new development. She sighs, taking another pull from her alcohol-laced coffee, and dumping the rest in the sink right before Jace enters the room. I wonder if my mom was finished drinking it, or if she poured it out to spare my brother from witnessing what I had to see.

Jace breaks the anxiety in the room, filling the entryway with his athletic frame and an impish grin. His chest bulges from underneath his gray t-shirt and his gym shorts hang loose on his waist. Blessed with our dad’s tall gene, Jace measures in at six feet four. With dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he’s such a cutie.

“Mornin’.” He smiles, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder.

“Hey, handsome,” my mom replies as he walks over and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Everything ok, here?” he asks, glancing between us with wary eyes.

“Yeah, just girl talk.” I answer, as I untangle my headphones, trying to prepare for my run.

“Ok, then. I’m out. I’m headed to the gym then the beach.”

“So early?” I reply, enviously.

“Got to get a good spot on the sand.” He laughs.

“Some people gotta work around here,” I grimace. I envy Jace just a little bit. He’s got a part- time job at the local sports store, but it seems like he never puts in any hours. He spends more time hanging out at the gym and the beach with his friends.

“That’s not my fault.” He replies, grabbing his sunglasses and towel as he heads for the door. “I might be home late, so don’t wait up for me.” He smirks, throwing his backpack on his shoulder.

“Jace?” My mom cringes.

“Relax, mom,” he says. “I’ll
be
home.” He slips out before my mom can argue.

I return my attention back to her. She tries to avoid further questioning by turning towards the hallway. “So, are you sure you’re going to be all right?” I call after her. She’s not getting away that easily.

“Just go run. I’ll be here. I called in sick. I’ve been working long hours.” She sighs, pushing away a loose strand of hair. “I need a mental health day.” She shuffles to the table and starts rearranging the flowers.

She looks like a lost child with that faraway look in her eye. She probably thought she wouldn’t end up here again, and blames herself for things going wrong. I stand in the hallway observing her through the mirror. I wonder if it’s a good idea for her to spend this time alone, not doing anything but drinking alcohol and worrying about her second failed marriage. Maybe I’m being premature about it, but it looks like that’s where things are heading. I certainly can’t say that to her. It would kill her to know that I don’t think her marriage is fixable.

My head feels like someone knocked me around the ring for ten rounds, and my body aches like I just ran the Boston marathon. I stretch my arms and legs to get the kinks out. I brush against silky, warm skin and hear a soft moan. Cringing, I roll over to find her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow next to me. My three hundred thread count cotton sheets cover the bottom half of what appears to be her impeccable body. Usually I wouldn’t react like this, but I don’t remember anything about what happened last night. The fact that we’re both naked means only one thing.

Did I use a condom? How much did I drink? Nothing causes this kind of memory loss unless I drink more than a six-pack and some shots.

I turn over, squinting from the sunlight shining through the blinds; I’m hating where I am. Nothing feels good about it. What did I gain from last night? I don’t remember shit, and how the hell am I going to get this chick out of my bed? It’s seven thirty in the morning and I have to be at work in an hour. How am I gonna last the day with this damn hangover?

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and scratch my head in frustration before I ease out of bed, pull on my shorts, and drag myself to the bathroom. The cool tiles on my feet feel good against my tired skin as I splash cold water on my face to wake up. I don’t look
so
bad, rubbing the new stubble on my face, but I definitely
feel
like shit.

I return to my room and stand at the foot of the bed, trying to figure out how to get this girl out of my apartment. Debating for a few seconds, I decide to leave her and head out early. She can fend for herself. Whatever her name is. I don’t want to have to deal with the awkward ‘Here’s my number’ situation. I peek under the sheets one last time before I leave just for good measure. Shit, I’m a man; don’t judge.

I check in on my roomie, who’s not alone, and not asleep either, as the comforter seems to come alive. I laugh, quietly close the door, and leave a note for him to handle the situation in my bed. I figure he’s the one who lined up the chicks and he’s the one who can get rid of them. I take a quick shower, grab my gear, and head out.

I understand why I drank more than usual, with all my thoughts of my momma and the mess I left back home. I don’t feel comfortable talking to my roommate about it. We’re not close like that, but it would be cool to have someone to shoot the shit with over a beer. In the meantime, they’ll be my secrets; issues that I know are going to get worse if I don’t deal with them.

I grab a Red Bull and a bagel from the coffee shop across from the track to help with my hangover. I can’t remember the last time I drank that much and I don’t want to experience it again anytime soon. I kind of want to remember what I did last night with that blonde bombshell still lying in my bed. Taking a seat on a bench just outside the coffee house, I’m thinking I’m glad that I got my run in last night; there are more people than usual on the field. Popping the can open, I take a swig of the sugary brown liquid, feeling it travel down my throat as someone in black running shorts and a pink sports bra sprints past me.

I do a double take. There’s no mistaking her. She looks determined almost as if she’s fighting with herself, throwing punches in the air in front of her, oblivious to everything and everyone around her. Sweat glistens on her skin; the muscles in her legs push her gracefully forward, making her look even sexier than when I first saw her. She’s focused and determined; qualities I find so damn hot in a female but have never seen firsthand until now.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have run last night.
I could’ve been out there, but as shit would have it, I’m here nursing a hangover, and Elle is out there. Shit. Maybe it’s fate intervening and telling me to stay away.

I watch her finish her laps and grab her water bottle from the grass, stopping to talk to a guy that I don’t recognize. I feel a jab of what could be jealousy.
Damn it, you have no right.
Stick with the plan and don’t mess with this, but the devil inside me is telling me to do it. If I’d ever had an angel in me, it disappeared the minute I laid eyes on her. Any other time, I’d be thinking I was crazy to obsess over a female since my track record shows that I can snag just about anybody. But it’s not about just snagging, banging, or doing her. I haven’t had this feeling that involves more than just my dick in a long time, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

She’s leaving the park with this guy! Before I can think, I’m getting up to follow her, wondering where she’s going. Does Cane know this guy she’s with?
Cut it out asshole. Why are you acting this way anyway?
You didn’t come out here looking for a relationship. Leave this one alone.
But I can’t.

An SUV rolls up with a bunch of guys hanging out the window. When it pulls away, I’m glad. She’s standing alone on the sidewalk, waving as it disappears down the street. The guy is gone, and that’s all I give a shit about.
Right?
She’s leaving, so I follow her from a safe distance, jogging when I have to, to keep up with her. She stops at the intersection and jogs in place, waiting for the light to change; I’m so close to her now that I can see the sweat rolling down her back, but the light turns green before I can reach her. She continues to run; I continue to follow, watching her ponytail swing from side to side and admiring the lines of her body as her shorts stick to her ass. I imagine what’s underneath, and I get flustered and have to slow down for a second. I watch her for another minute as she runs up the street, disappearing around the corner. I make a mental note of the street. Who knows? It might come in useful someday.