Crazy Maybe (13 page)

When she wakes Sunday morning, I’m already awake and watching her sleep.  She looks so happy and satisfied and I can’t help but feel a swell of pride at knowing I’ve given her at least some of that.  She smiles at me when she sees I’m staring and my heart skips a beat. 

“Good morning,” she says through her sleepy smile.

“Good morning, baby,” I answer, stroking her cheek and down her neck.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“I was.  Can’t take my eyes off you.”  This earns me another smile, but that’s not why I said it.  I literally mean I can’t take my eyes off of her – she has mesmerized me.

“So, today is our standard family get together day and my parents want you to come.  Want to go with me?”  I ask tentatively, knowing how the last visit went.

“I’d love to come with you.” 

And there’s no denying the double meaning in her response and I definitely don’t have the heart to deny her.  So I pounce on her once again in the bed.  Then again in the shower.

ANDI

I’m really having a hard time focusing on the catalog of outdoor furniture Linda is showing me.  I can’t stop thinking about last night and this morning with Luke….mainly because I’m delightfully sore from our bedroom acrobatics.  I mentally chastise myself and force myself to pay attention.  She’s showing me the set she wants for the garden area around the pool.  It sounds so simple, but I’ve never had a mother who asked for my opinion and she makes me feel like a part of the family.

Linda finally settles on one the one she wants just as Sam walks in the room.  “Honey, I’ve decided.”

“Wonderful.  On what?”  His bored, semi-listening tone indicates he’s heard this a few hundred times from her.

“The patio set I’m going to get.”

This gets his attention.  “Hmm…let’s see,” he says as he walks over to the kitchen table.  Linda shows him the page and Sam whistles low and serious as he looks at the price.  “It’ll have to wait, babe.”  Linda nods her head and says, “I was hoping to get it on sale at the end of the season if there are any sets left over.”

Linda and I cook while Luke and Brandon are outside helping Sam with some heavy work in the yard.  Linda is very witty and her dry, sarcastic humor is hilarious to me.  We spend the majority of our time together laughing at her stories of Luke and Brandon growing up, all the trouble they got into and how they were with Alicia. 

I could listen to her talk about their family life for hours.  She’s teaching me how to cook some of Luke’s favorite dishes.  I furiously blink back the tears when she puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me to her for no apparent reason. 

Sam, Luke and Brandon all come piling in the kitchen – sweaty, dirty and hungry – from putting down concrete pavers for Linda’s extended patio.  Linda sends them to clean up before we set the table.  Once we’re all gathered back in the kitchen, we take our seats at the table.   The conversation eventually turns to stories of Luke and Brandon growing up, which leads to questions about my childhood. 

Questions and answers Luke and I haven’t even discussed yet.  And I feel bad about talking about it now, in front of everyone, but I don’t really feel like I have a choice.

“Andi, do your parents live nearby?”  Sam asks in between bites of food.  I see Luke’s fork freeze in mid-air as he looks at his dad then at me.

“Dad, I don’t know if-“

I touch his arm and say, “It
s fine, Luke.”  Then I turn my gaze to Sam and answer him, “They used to live in the area, but they died when I was six.”  I try to keep my tone casual and light, as if this is a question I answer every day.  The truth is I never really talk about them because that leads to more questions.

“I’m so sorry, Andi.  We had no idea,” Linda doesn’t look at me with pity and sympathy, which is the worst.  She looks at me with understanding in her eyes.

Sam continues, “What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Linda gives him a disapproving look before turning to me, “If you don’t want to talk about this, we won’t push.”

“No, really, I’m ok.  That’s if Luke doesn’t mind – we haven’t really gotten around to all this yet,” I say, looking around the table at the people who I’m beginning to think of as family before turning to Luke.  His face softens at my statement directed towards him and nods.

I continue, “They were killed in a car wreck.  I wasn’t with them but I’m told they died instantly.”

“Who did you live with?”  Luke asks, and I notice he isn’t eating anymore.

I clear my throat to try to expel the emotion building up.  Here we go.  “My mom’s cousin Jean and her husband took me in for a little while.  But…when Jean found out she couldn’t get to my inheritance, she didn’t want me anymore so she gave me up to the state.”

“Foster homes,” Brandon states, obviously disgusted, “She
willingly
put you into the foster care system.  Your own blood kin.”  His indignation on my behalf is blatant towards Jean.  I can’t look up at them even though I feel all eyes on me, willing me to look at them and finish my story.

“Yes, I stayed in foster care until I was 16 and I contacted my parents’ attorney.  He had been a friend of theirs for years before they died and he remembered me.  He helped me gain legal emancipation from the state.  I met Mack soon after.”

“Did you move in with Mack?”  Linda asks, hesitantly.

I shake my head and laugh a little, “No.  Mack is a career bachelor and I was a teenage girl.  He was afraid of how it would look – for both of us.”

“How did you meet Mack?”  Luke asks and now he’s holding my hand under the table. 

I look into Luke’s caring eyes and I know what I say next will be hard for him to hear.  I start to speak but can’t find my voice for a few seconds.  “Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be.”  He squeezes my hand and patiently waits.

“I had been staying in a seedy area of town until I got access to my trust fund and could move to an apartment.  So, I was walking back to the motel and,” I take a deep breath and watch Luke’s jaw muscles harden, “a group of guys came out of nowhere, calling out to me, taunting me.  They pretty much surrounded me.  Mack was leaving a nearby apartment and the guys knew Mack and knew better than to mess with him.  He took me to his friend’s place that night and the next day I moved in my apartment, but Mack insisted I come to the gym with him every day so he could teach me to defend myself.”

Luke swallows hard, taking it all in and considering what to ask next.  I know how hard it is to find that balance between curiosity and rudeness, so I try to help fill in some of the blanks.

“I finished high school early at an alternative school and went to college.  I had the normal college life – lived in the dorms my freshman year, made a lot of friends, had fun and studied hard.  That’s where I met Christina, Tania and Katie,” I stated, looking at Luke.  “During college, I realized I wanted to help kids who doesn’t have anyone to believe in them.  That’s when I started working at the youth center, trying to make a difference for even one.”

“That is very impressive, Andi,” Sam says sincerely.

“What was your major?” Brandon asks as he fills his plate with a giant piece of chocolate cake.

“Law,” I answer quickly, hoping they let it go.

“You went to law school?”

“Have you taken the bar?”

“You’re a lawyer?”

“What kind of law?”

They’re all fire questions at me simultaneously and I look around the table to each person, unable to hide my nervousness.  I know I don’t look like the typical lawyer, with the pink chunks in my blond hair and my tattoo sleeve.  Not to mention, there’s always questions about how I afforded the cost of law school.

“Um, yes, I went to law school, took and passed the bar, so I’m a licensed attorney now.  I’m not practicing full time right now, but I do pro bono work with the firm I interned under every now and then.  Mostly juvenile justice – sticking with helping the kids.”

The term
stunned silence
comes to mind right about now.  Everyone is staring at me and I have no clue what they’re thinking.

LUKE

“Well, dear, I’m beyond impressed with you.  This may be extremely rude, and you don’t have to answer.  But if you’re not working, how can you afford to live?”

“Mom!”  I half-yell at her.  Yes, that is extremely fucking rude to ask and none of her damn business.  But it’s also the question that’s on my mind even if I don’t want to admit it.

Andi squeezes my hand and speaks before I can say anything else, “My inheritance.  My parents were very successful and their lawyer worked it out for me to have early access to my trust fund.  It’s been more than enough for me to live on.”

Andi and I really should’ve had this discussion before now, when I’m sitting here with my family and just learning all this about her at the same time they are.  I saw the hesitancy in her eyes when the questions started.  I know part of it is because she realizes she didn’t tell me first.  I can tell she’s holding back – she’s not telling the full story, but she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

We move outside and enjoy the cooling temperatures by the pool.  Andi and I sit together on a chaise lounge chair.  She’s in between my legs, lying back on my chest and I wrap my arms around her.  She lays her arms on top of mine and squeezes, like she can’t get me close enough to her.  Brandon takes the chair beside us and the three of us are having a friendly conversation.  I know Brandon secretly wishes he’d met Andi first and I can’t blame him for that.  I’m all too glad to have her in my arms so I can’t begrudge him a little jealousy over my girlfriend.

My dad brings us each an ice cold beer from the cooler and I let go of Andi to take mine.  A few drops of cold water from the bottle drop on her tattooed arm and my fingertip automatically goes to it, rubbing it in her smooth skin.  I take a minute to study her sleeve, taking time to look at the individual tattoos that make it up, and let my finger trace the lines.  I think they’re both beautiful and sexy as hell on her.

“Not that I don’t love it, but what made you decide to get a sleeve?”  I ask, noticing that Brandon is also interested in both my question and her arm.  Since we’ve already invaded her privacy as a family tonight, I doubt she’ll mind talking about her ink.

She sits up and turns sideways, facing Brandon, but still in my lap.  She looks over her shoulder at me, takes my hand and lays it on her shoulder.  I look at her curiously and she guides my hand down her arm.  It doesn’t hit me at first but when I realize what she’s telling me, my entire body becomes rigid.  Except my hand – it decides it needs to feel her arm again to make sure my mind didn’t misread what my hand just felt.

It didn’t.  There are several scars on her shoulder and all the way down her arm to her wrist, where my hand now rests.  In my peripheral vision, I can see Brandon watching us intently but he doesn’t interrupt.  Andi’s looking at me in anticipation – like she’s afraid of my reaction.

“Luke,” she says quietly and her eyes are pleading with me, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Name it, baby.”

“There are….things…about my childhood I’ve never told
anyone
.  When I tell you, I need you to believe me.  Do you trust me enough to promise me that?”  Her tone is calm and loving, like she normally is, but there’s real fear in her eyes.  Fear I’ve never seen in her before and that bothers me.  She’s so strong and has obviously faced so much, it worries me what would be left for her to actually fear now.   And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to take that fear away from her.

“I will believe you.  I promise, Andi,” I say the words so she’ll have doubt of my resolve.  And I mean it with everything that I am.

She nods and turns back to lay in my arms.  I don’t expect her to say anything, and I’ve honestly already forgotten my question, but her voice is strong and without emotion as she says, “I got the tattoos to cover up the scars on my arm.  I decided when people stare, they could at least have something more interesting to look at.”

I squeeze my arms around her tighter, a silent promise that I’m here with her, beca
use I don’t know what to say.  She doesn’t say anything else about it and I don’t press.  She said
“when”
she tells me and that she hasn’t told anyone else.  I understand her – when she’s ready, she will tell me and only me.  She doesn’t want anyone else around when we talk about it.  My mind is already considering who it is I will have to kill for hurting her.