Kelpie (Come Love a Fey) (10 page)

I
glared.  “What do you want me to say?”  I leaned forward and put my elbows on
my knees, resting my chin in my hands.  “We were poor growing up.  I was
ashamed of my family.  I went to college and got a degree so that I could make
big money and never want for anything.”

I
closed my eyes and sighed, acknowledging the crap I never let myself think
about.  “I didn’t have any guidance.  My parents had never been to school.  I
took out student loans.  I took out extra for living expenses and sent part of
that to my parents.  Mom had been sick, and they needed the extra money.”  I
snorted.  “I told them it was from a part time job but in reality, I was carrying
too many credits to work.”

I
took a deep breath.  “Now I have a career and a good job, but it’s not like I’d
planned.  I didn’t realize how little money I would be making.  Half my income
goes to pay my loans back.  Another chunk goes to mom and dad to help them
out.”  I gestured around the apartment.  “The rest pays for this.” 

Leith
finally piped up.  “You’ve done well, then.”  His voice was encouraging, but I
felt an old bitterness creeping up on me.

“Sure,
if I want to work until I die and live alone in an apartment for the rest of my
life.”  I shrugged.  “I know I should be thankful.  I should love my career.  I
should just be happy that I’m alive and healthy and have a roof over my head.  But
it’s just that…I don’t know… things seem so hallow.  I feel like there should
be more to life than what I’m doing.”

I
hugged my knees to my chest.  Leith turned to face me, leaning back against the
arm of the couch.  “You use that word a lot…should….but you don’t wish to live
your life this way.  So you feel trapped.”

I
nodded, feeling ashamed of my greediness.  “I always said I wanted to help
people.  I wanted to have a job where I made a difference in someone’s world.  I
do a great job helping my clients, but I go through every struggle with them. 
I can’t put any distance between myself and their emotional crap.  I carry
everything around with me.  It’s draining.”  I picked at a seam on my PJs.  “I
have really bad anxiety, and just recently I started having the panic attacks.”

I
lifted my head.  “I have no right to complain.”  After all, I had a roof over
my head, food to fill my belly, and a healthy mind and body.  “But…”  My voice
was small, “I want to have kids.  I want a big family and an old house in the
country where they can run and play while I bake cookies and drive my husband
crazy.”  I closed my eyes.  “But that’s not going to happen.”  Even if I did
somehow manage the finding a decent guy and getting married part, I would have
to go off to work every day and leave my children with someone else.  My
biological clock was just ticking away. But there was more to it than that.  I
just wanted to be free to do what I wanted to with my life.  I felt trapped.

Leith
laughed, and a hot blush washed over my cheeks.  “Shut up.”  I knew my worries
were selfish and irrational, but he didn’t have to laugh.

“Just
shut up!”  I stood and threw the throw pillow at his head. 

He
caught it, still letting out the occasional chuckle.  “I apologize.  I just
never thought you would admit to having such normal, heart-felt desires.  It
doesn’t fit that mask you put on every day.”

I
turned to go and he grabbed my wrist.  “Wait.  Ada,” he stood and took both my
hands, looking down at me with those deep, deep eyes.  “Become my mate.  You
can quit your job and leave this world and all of your human worries behind you.
 Come live with me in Faerie.”  His tone turned sultry.  “I will give you as
many children as you wish.”

“You
have got to be kidding me.”  I jerked my hands away from him and stomped off to
my room.  Bad enough I had bared my soul to him.  Now he was mocking me. 

I
left work a
little early.  Noah hadn’t come to in today.  He had probably been out late the
night before, and just wanted to stay home and sleep it off.  Typically, he
worked longer hours than I did, so this was a perfect opportunity to go by and
get my things from his place. 

I
unlocked my car and threw my bag onto the passenger seat.  The pins holding my
hair up were digging into my scalp and adding to the constant headache.  I
yanked them out and ran my fingers through the mess, massaging my scalp.  I
slipped off my jacket and made a face at my stylish shoes.  Leith was right. 
This wasn’t me at all.  I thought of how hard I had worked to get where I was. 
I remembered the look of relief on my mom’s face even as she told me the money
wasn’t necessary. 
It was worth it, damn it
. 

I
got to Noah’s house at a little past four.  I didn’t have too many things at
his place, just some clothes and a few toiletries, maybe a couple of movies.  I
rang the doorbell absently, thinking I should stop at the grocery store and get
Leith some salmon on the way back home.  Noah didn’t answer so I rang the bell
again.  I tapped my toe impatiently.  His little Beamer was parked in the
driveway.  It was way too early for him to be out with a woman.  When he still
didn’t answer, I pounded at the door.  Finally, I heard a thump from the other
side and the sound of the deadbolt sliding back.

Noah
appeared, and I took an involuntary step back.  He stood on the stoop in his
silk boxers, swaying slightly.  I covered my nose as the funk of alcohol and
stale sweat rolled off him.  Noah?  What the hell?”

He
gifted me with a lop-sided grin as he tried to get his eyes to focus.  “Ada!  C’mon
in it’s a party!”  He stepped back awkwardly and gestured for me to enter. 

I
took a couple of dragging steps inside and halted.  The house was trashed;
clothes draped here and there, the floor littered with beer cans and food
wrappers.  I glanced at the bottle of Jack dangling from his hand.  Noah was
one of the neatest, most meticulous, and well-groomed people I had ever met.  This
completely disheveled man was a stranger.  He ran a hand through his hair, causing
it to stand up in spikes.  His face was covered with stubble and his eyes were
red and puffy.

“Jesus,
Noah.  Did someone die?”

He
shoved a pile of clothes off the end of the couch and flopped down, taking a
swig from the bottle he was holding.  “Nope.  Everything’s fine.  Juuuust
perfect.”  He struggled to focus on me again.  “We can’t all be perfect all the
time.  ‘Cept you, Ada.”  He giggled.  “Ada is perfect all the time.  Perfect
employee, perfect voice, perfect smile.  Perfect round ass packed in her little
suit.”

I
crossed my arms and glared at him.  “I just came to get my stuff Noah.”  I left
him on the couch listing all my “perfect” attributes and made my way to the
bedroom.  It was God-awful.  The contrast between this and his usual clean-to-the-point-of-starkness
was unbelievable.  I found a laundry basket and upended it on the bed.  My
clothes were still hanging in the closet.  I snatched them off the hangers and
threw them in the basket.  I rifled around and found one of my bras and a
couple pair of tiny underwear I never wore anywhere but here.  After a moment’s
hesitation, I tossed them into the basket as well.  The black lace teddy went
into the trashcan.  I scooped up my basket and made my way to the bathroom to
get my shampoo and lotion.  The toothbrush went in the trash with the teddy.  I
made my way through the bedroom again, pausing to take all the photos with my
face in them.  Then I straightened my spine and made my way to the living room.

Noah
had stopped listing my assets and moved on to singing something.  It wasn’t
anything recognizable, so I ignored him.  I rifled through the movies, making
sure I got all of mine.  They were easy to identify.  Mine were the escape
movies, the ones with fantasy and romance, and magic. 

Noah
stopped singing and leaned forward to hand me a movie.  “Don’t forget this
one.”

I
glanced at the title before I threw it in the box.  The cheesy, glittery thing
was a holdover from my teen years- back when I had believed in true love and
princes.  I sneered.

Noah
scooted to the edge of the couch and slumped forward, elbows on knees, letting
the empty bottle fall to the floor.  “I’m sorry there’s no hero for you.”  He
said quietly.  “Maybe if I had a fairy godmother or two to help me, I wouldn’t
be drunk off my ass and you’d still be with me.”

I
hefted the basket and stood.  He was going from happy drunk to maudlin drunk
right before my eyes. 
Just swell
.  I turned my back and walked away
without comment.  After I tossed the basket into the backseat of my car, I
squared my shoulders and went back inside.

Noah
looked surprised when I returned.  “Get off your ass and go take a shower.”  I
snatched the newly opened beer can from his hand and went to the kitchen to
pour it down the drain.  As I watched the last of the froth swirl down the
drain, I promised myself I would never drink again.  It had absolutely zero
appeal after this.

He
stumbled to his feet, with an indignant sound when he saw what I was doing.  I
spun and pointed down the hallway that led to the master suite.  “Get in the
damned shower.  Now!”

He
turned and shuffled off, bumping into the walls as he went, and mumbling
something about roses.  I pressed my hands to my face and exhaled.  Kicking off
my heels, I went and found a pair of slippers that looked clean.  Then I made a
pot of coffee and left it to brew while I made my way toward the bathroom.

I
pushed the door open, and then let out a sigh.  The shower was on, but the
curtain wasn’t pulled all the way closed, so water was leaking onto the tile. 
Noah was slumped against the side of the shower, letting the water course over
his bowed head and down the sturdy column of his back.  Part of me wanted to go
to him and help him get cleaned up, part of me wanted to hit him over the head
with a blunt object.  I watched the water make its way over his muscular body,
remembering all the times he had held me.

I
picked up a washcloth off the sink and threw it at him, making him jump, and
then I jerked the shower curtain closed.  “Wash.  Then get your ass out of
there before you fall down and bust your head open.”

I
went back to the kitchen and poured two big mugs of coffee.  I was sitting at
the table sipping mine when he finally made his way out.  He was wearing pajama
pants and had a towel draped around his shoulders.  His sandy blonde hair stood
up in wet spikes and his sculpted chest glistened with damp.

I
found a reasonably clean t-shirt from the heap of clothes piled on the floor and
threw it at him.  We sat at the table in silence for a few minutes while he
sipped his coffee.

“So
are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”  I kept my voice even.  It
had to be more than a random bender.  This was not the Noah I knew at all.

He
lifted his eyes to meet mine and I clenched my teeth.  He looked haunted.  My
cheerful, silly, happy-go-lucky Noah was gone.  All I saw there was
hopelessness.  “I got drunk.”

I
gave a short laugh. 
No
,
really
?  “Why?”

He
clutched his mug as if it was a life preserver and gave me a bitter look.  “I’m
a fucking drunk, Ada.  It’s what I do.”

I
shook my head.  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

It
was his turn to laugh.  “That’s because I’m good at it.  There wasn’t a single
day in the last year that I haven’t had a drink before work.  My coffee mug
always has a shot or two of whisky in it.  There’s a bottle hidden in my desk
somewhere.  I drink myself to sleep every night you’re not here.”

He
chugged the last of his coffee and set his mug down with a bang.  “Are you
happy now, miss perfect?”

I
set my own cup down with more force than strictly necessary.  “Shut the fuck
up.”  I went to the carafe and re-filled his mug, then pushed it in front of
him again. 

“You’re
telling me you’ve been an alcoholic this entire time and you’ve managed to hide
it from me?”  There was no way.  We’d been seeing each other for over a year.

He
leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.  “It’s all in the act.”  He
said with a fake smile.  “You of all people should know that.”

I
sat back down.  “So,” I said tiredly, “What’s the sob story?”  Everyone had
one.

He
shrugged and brushed at a stain on his t-shirt.  “Everyone has reasons for the
masks they wear.”  His eyes were still slightly unfocused and I realized he
wasn’t entirely sober.  Oh, I thought dryly, philosophical drunk.

“I
know why you bottle yourself up.”  He gestured at the black heels lying
discarded in the kitchen.  “I’ve met your parents.  You grew up poor, ashamed
of your family, blah, blah, blah.  So you want to be better than all that.  I
know what you want,” he slurred.  “The white picket fence, two point five kids,
and a white knight to support your family so you never have to worry about
money again.”  He sat back with a thump, looking like a cat that had just
caught a mouse.

I
stood and went to the cupboard where I started gathering every liquor bottle I
could find.  When I had emptied the official liquor cabinet, I began searching
all the other cupboards and drawers for hidden bottles.