dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (27 page)

“I guess I do?” he asked with a furrow of his brow. “Well, Wynn didn’t have a good childhood. His mom was abusive,” he said, looking toward the ceiling and focusing on Karl’s painting. “I always felt this need to protect him somehow. I wanted to stop her, but I was just a kid and I couldn’t. I blame myself for how bad it got at times. He and I would be playing and some of the time it was my fault his stuff wasn’t always picked up. But he never tried to blame me. He just let it go and took the punishment. He was worried that she wouldn’t let me come over anymore,” he said with a guilt ridden sigh.

“So he always took the heat. I was a selfish little kid for a while,” he said as he lowered his head. “Before I understood that his punishments weren’t like mine. They were pretty fucking bad. So I made sure to always pick up and keep things clean when I was over there. I also begged my parents to let him have a sleepover at our house every weekend.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if it could erase the memory and pain of his inability to help his friend.

“Did your parents know why you were always asking?” I asked as I added the Brussels sprout puree to the cake batter.

“That’s where I feel the worst. I never said anything,” he said, lifting his hands in annoyance. “I was close with my parents and part of me knew what they would do if they got involved. Wynn would go away. But I didn’t want to lose him, so I made sure to protect him as best I could.”

“That’s a lot to take on as a kid,” I said with a soft tone and turned toward him.

Blake shook his head. “That’s what brothers do though right?” he asked. “I mean, your brother would do anything to protect you, I’m sure. He would want to make sure you were near him so he could keep his eye on you and protect you from any and all bad things that might come your way. He wouldn’t want to send you out into something that could possibly be far worse. No matter what age, humans feel that need to protect the person they love most—that’s what people do,” he said with a deep breath.

“No Blake, that isn’t what people do. Most people don’t have that need to protect and help others. Self preservation is first. They’re focused on themselves. That need to protect your friend is unique to you. Sure sometimes guys want to protect their woman or guard her from harm. But most of the time that’s out of trying to possess or own her—it isn’t because they want to keep her secure and safe. You Blake,” I said as I stepped near him and took his face in my hands. “You
are
different. You aren’t just Blake—you are compassion wrapped up in a human suit.”

He laughed, “That’s kind of gross Brecken.”

“Don’t deflect the compliment Blake. Yes, it’s an odd visual. Sorry, but it’s true. I don’t know how you did it all those years,” I said as I lifted myself onto the counter to sit and wait for the cake to finish.

“Would you do that for your brother—or Conall— would you do it for him?” he asked.

I looked away from him, because I would do it for either of them, he was right in that. But there was one person I failed. I sighed. “I would help them, but I’m nothing like you Blake. I failed my daughter. I didn’t even try to be that protector for her. I just sent her on her way because I was afraid of failing her. I’m still afraid of failing her.”

“Why? You aren’t a failure. It looks like you have your shit pretty well together,” he said as he hopped from the counter and pushed my legs apart to stand between them. He put his hands on the counter on either side of me. “Have you ever met her—your daughter?”

“No, I know she lives outside of town. She sent me a letter recently, wanting to meet me. I couldn’t read it though. My mom read it and told me about it. How can I meet her now? It’s been eighteen years.”

“How can you
not
meet her now?” he asked as he lowered his chin and looked up at me. “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t meet her now?”

“Uhm, I’m not ready—also nice subject change. Weren’t we talking about you and your fears of failing?” I asked.

“How are any of us absolutely ready for anything in life? That’s what life is—adapting and taking everything as it comes. You can prepare all you want, but you can never be fully ready. Also, I’m not deflecting. Talking to you is helping me work out my own thoughts. Plus the more we talk, the longer I can stand right here between your lovely thighs and just listen to you.” He wrapped his hands above my knees and gave a gentle squeeze.

I put my hands on his face and kissed him briefly. “You’re so fucking cute.” I pressed my forehead to his and sat there for several breaths.

“You’re right. God damn it you’re right. I’ll never be ready. I have to just make myself ready,” I said.

He smiled his big ass grin. “I know I’m right and I am fucking cute,” he said as the timer went off for the cake.

_______________

“You know, I couldn’t taste the Brussels sprouts at all in this,” Blake said as he lifted the box holding the rest of his cake.

“I told you you wouldn’t. Now just watch out, you may see some action down below later,” I said with a wink.

“Are you talking about sexual action or are you suggesting that this cake is going to make my bowels move because of the fiber content?” he asked with fake shock.

“Blake, that’s gross,” I said sarcastically with a smile. “Of course I was meaning bowel movements.” I grinned at him and saw annoyance spread across his face.

I began to unlock my car door as he walked around to my side. He pressed himself against my back, holding me to the car, and set the cake on the roof of the car. I was now caged between his arms and felt his nose press into my hair as he breathed into my ear.

“I’m supposed to open the door, Brecken, and I don’t think you see this as gross at all. And I’m probably twisted, but the fact that you just made a poop joke really turned me on,” he said as he began to laugh behind me. “Fuck, that sounded really freaking weird. But I’m just trying to say it’s cool that you’re comfortable enough to make a poop joke with me.”

Then he just wrapped his arms around me and lifted my hands up around his neck and hugged me. I rested my head back against his chest and he looked down at me with that pain consuming smile of his and gave it without hesitation. “The fact that you made a poop joke would add to how much my mom likes you too.”

“Your mom?” I asked on a laugh.

“Yes, that woman is notorious for them. She can’t drive past a dog pooping without laughing. It’s a freaking natural occurrence and she laughs about it like a twelve year old boy. My dad hates it and tells her she’s lame for doing it. But the way I see it, if you can’t laugh at the stupid stuff—what’s the point of everything? I can be serious when needed, but life shouldn’t be so serious that you forget you’re living,” Blake said with a sheepish smile as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I love your way of thinking. I like it and I like you. You make everything more fun,” I said as I turned in his arms so I was facing him now. “I’m ready to go back to your place, how about you?”

“I’m more than ready,” he said as he kissed my forehead, and returned to his side of the car after letting me in mine.

The writer stepped to the side of the abandoned car dealership. This side of town was rarely visited and there was enough time for the writer to complete the entire painting.

The painting was of a car and a girl with her hair hanging out the window as she danced her hand across the wind. The car was a solid black as if it were silhouetted by the setting sun behind it. The girl was in complete color and detail. Her long brown hair traced the breeze with freedom.

Do you feel liberated?

Brecken was nervous. I saw it in the way she laid her hand in her lap, toying with her fingers. She had fidgeted with her MP3 player as she started her Elton John playlist.
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
echoed through the car. She sang along with it and it was as if I was no longer here with her.

I didn’t mind. I was happy to just watch her sing.

I wanted to hold her hand, but I would be an idiot to stop that hand of hers from dancing across the air as she sang. Any time she sang one of his slower songs she always had tears well in the corner of her eyes. She didn’t want me to see though. She kept those tears to herself. I could see that the best way to comfort her was to let those tears just happen.

I was falling in love with her.

_______________

We quietly walked into my apartment and she took the cake from me and put it away. I followed her into my kitchen and stopped her before she turned from the fridge.

I put my hand on her hip and leaned down to her level and kissed the top of her head before turning her to me.

I lowered myself slightly to reach behind her and pick her up. She was so small, but she was tough. I had the opportunity to watch her at the gym where she practiced. She was about half a foot shorter than the chick she was fighting, but she kicked her ass. All patronizing about her ability to fight left my thoughts when I saw her do that.

Now as I carried her to my room, I felt the power she held within her. It almost physically hurt me to see her talk about being a failure. She was not a failure.

I lowered her to my bed and she sat on the edge of it, lifting her hand to remove her shirt. I put my hand on her to stop and shook my head.

“It’s my birthday Brecken. Let me open my present,” I said and couldn’t hold back the laugh as she rolled her eyes before lying back onto the bed.

“Okay, open me Blake,” she said with her own laugh.

“Oh, I will Brecken,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at her.

I lifted her hands and pulled her back up. I wanted her sitting in front of me.

I traced my hand under the hem of her shirt and watched her eyes slowly close as if the simple touch wasn’t just across her skin but within her.

“Goodnight, random cartoon character,” I said as I pulled her cartoon tee shirt over her head.

The day I watched her fight she wore only a sports bra and shorts. It was the most skin I had seen on her until this moment. Now she was sitting in front of me, watching me as I looked over her. Her bra was black lace and I could see right through it. But I wasn’t going to look at what lay behind that bra yet. I was taking my time.

I let my eyes wander to her shoulders and took in the collage of tattoos across both her upper arms. She told me they were all the things she loved in life. Butterflies, a piece of pie, a hummingbird, shamrocks, stars, even a small smiley face. There was more to it, but I hadn’t taken the time to look at them in detail. There was part of me that wanted to wait to see them. I didn’t want to see all of them, until I had all of her.

I picked up her hands, in my left hand and lifted them above her head as I traced my right fingertips from her wrist down to her bicep as I laid her back on my pillow.

I lay next to her on my side and she turned her face to me. She had let her hair hang free and it made her look innocent. She hadn’t pulled it into pigtails or even straightened it. She let her normal curl take over. She looked delicate. I loved it when she just let her hair loose because it was just Brecken. I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it lightly before laying it back above her head. I sat up and then put a knee on either side of her as she didn’t move, watching me with expectation.

Resting my forearms on either side of her, I kissed her. We both fought against the hesitation we put between us for the last few weeks. All the moments we held back attacked us and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I intended to show Brecken just how resilient I had been. She was going to feel all of it.

I kissed along her collar bone and down her side and stopped just above the button of her jeans. She had tiny stretch marks and a scar along her waist and I kissed each of them.

She inhaled sharply as I did.

“Are you okay?” I asked, hovering over her waist.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said and I could tell she wasn’t being completely honest.

“Seriously Breck, what’s wrong?” I asked, lying to the side of her. “If you aren’t ready we don’t have to do any more than make out. Although I would definitely like to touch those before the night is over,” I said as I pointed at her chest.

“It’s just that I’m in my head right now. A lot.” She ran her hand through her hair and pulled her lower lip in, chewing on it.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her. “Get out of your head then. Let me get you out of your head,” I said. “And let me get my head in you,” I said with a smirk.

She backhanded me in her usual way and I sat up quickly and pulled her jeans off without unbuttoning them.

She laughed as she looked up at me standing above her on my bed.

“How the hell did you do that?” she asked.

“It’s an inborn talent, Brecken and there’s more where that came from,” I said as I sat back down and continued where I left off.

The writer stepped to the building and began to paint the image of two boys fighting. Neither was winning and they pushed and pulled, the colors creating motion that didn’t end.