Lovely (31 page)

She breaks away. Her eyes searching mine. “What is it, Ash? What’s happened?”

I’m only able to choke out three words. “I need you.”

She looks at me and I know she understands … because she gets me. She threads her fingers through mine and leads me upstairs to her bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind us. She stares into my eyes as if she’ll find the answer, running her fingers over the hair at my temple, across my jaw, then finally my lips. “Talk to me, Ash. What’s got you so upset?”

I shake my head back and forth in a frantic motion, my eyes blinking rapidly. I make several attempts to speak but no words come out. I feel helpless. I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do or how to handle this. I let out a huge breath and try to talk. “Colt’s sick, Cara. He has a brain tumor.”

“Oh, Ash,” she breathes. She’s quiet but strokes my hair, her fingers bringing a sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic world. She takes her palm and presses it against my cheek. “Let me help you, Ash, please … Let me love you.”

She inches forward and touches her lips to mine before she reaches down and grabs the hem of my t-shirt, sliding it over my head. She runs her tongue down my neck, my chest, and then circles one of my nipples with her lips. I let out a deep groan. She continues down until she reaches the trail of hair that leads to the zipper of my jeans. When her fingers reach the button fly, I grab her wrist and pull her up to me; we stare at each other for what seems like minutes before she takes my lips and gentles them with a kiss. She lowers her hand again and pops the button on my jeans before pulling them down and taking my boxers along with them. Her gaze drops to my erection, huge and throbbing in front of her.

Lifting her eyes back to mine and never breaking contact, she pulls her lavender sundress over her head. She slides her panties down and slips her bra off, baring herself to me completely. I suck in a breath at the sight of her as she takes my hand and leads me to the bed. Cara settles herself underneath me, desire mixed with need and love resonating off of our bodies. I want to completely devour her, crawl and scratch and scrape until I can get inside of her. She’s the only one who can take away this awful pain.

As if knowing exactly what I need, she grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me up, reaching between us to take my cock in her hand, rolling the condom on before slowly guiding me to her entrance. I pound into her furiously, giving her all of me, and she takes it willingly, moaning with each thrust. She digs her nails into my arms, loud groans of both pleasure and pain leaving my chest. I rock into her harder, back and forth, mindlessly, until I cry out, “Oh, Cara!”

“Ash,” she shouts, and I let every emotion, every feeling, everything I have spill inside of her.

Our bodies still and I press kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips. I feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears, but I work hard to control it. I have to be strong. I have to hold it together. I drop my gaze from hers and am about to lay my head on her chest when she slips her finger under my chin and lifts it to meet her eyes.

She moves her hand slowly, smoothing the hair from my temple and tracing the line of my jaw, her eyes never leaving mine. “It’s okay, Ash,” she whispers. “You can fall now … I’ll be here to catch you.”

For the first time in my life, I swallow the lump of fear about not being strong enough and I let go. Tears free fall down my cheeks for Colt, for my father, for me. It’s the first batch of tears I’ve shed since my father died. Violent sobs overtake my body and Cara’s warmth wraps around me like a protective shield.

After a few minutes, I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself then lay my head on her breast and just breathe her in. I roll off of her and we lie on our sides, facing one another with one arm tucked underneath our respective pillows. She runs her fingers back and forth over the lines of my tattoo in a soothing motion. I wish I could freeze this moment in time. I don’t want to think about anything else except being here with Cara, but it’s impossible.

“I feel awful. I ran out after my mom told me. I just left her there, all alone, but I had to get away. I had to see you. I needed you.”

“I know,” she says softly, “and it’s okay, you know … to put yourself first.” She kisses me tenderly on the mouth. “What are the doctors saying?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I don’t know. The only thing I know right now is that he needs surgery. And if it’s a brain tumor, that can’t be good, right?”

“How about we try and think positively until we have a reason to think otherwise?” she suggests as she drums her fingers up and down my arm. With everything this amazing girl has been through in her life, she still manages to see the light. She
is
the light.

“Okay, baby, I’ll try.”

I just don’t know if I have it in me this time.

Cara wanted to come back home with me, but I told her I needed to talk with Mom alone. I feel bad for deserting her when she was so upset, but for the first time in a long time, something
I
needed was more important. Cara.

The house is quiet again when I walk through the door. I’m about to grab my backpack from the couch when I notice Mom sitting in front of it, a large cardboard box open and photos laid out all over the floor. She has an album on her lap and there are tears staining her cheeks.

I walk over and squat down on the floor beside her. “Mom,” I say, in a hushed voice.

She raises her distressed eyes, my heart plummeting at the sight of them. “Hey, sweetie. I was worried about you. Where did you go?”

“I went to see Cara, Mom. I
needed
to be with her.” I lift a finger to brush her cheek and she gives me a weak smile. “I’m sorry I left you like that, Mom. I just had to get away. I couldn’t deal.”

I join her on the carpet and she places her hand on my knee. “It’s okay, Ash. I understand. I’m glad you have Cara.”

Looking down at the photo album, I take in a page chock full of pictures of Colt with both me and Dad. They’re all arranged by date. “What are you doing, Mom?”

She runs her finger over each picture, stopping at one of the three of us on Halloween when we were in elementary school. Colt’s dressed like Darth Vader, and Dad and I are dressed as storm troopers.

“I wish I could trade places with Colt,” she says, a tear falling from her cheek onto the picture.

I exhale a breath, feeling the weight of Mom’s pain bearing down on me, wishing like hell I could take it away. “Don’t say that, Mom.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the picture, just continues to rub her finger over Colt’s face. “It’s true. I would give my life for him … for all of you.”

I touch her arm, pulling her attention away from the memory and up to me. “Isn’t that what you’ve done since the day we were born?”

Her eyes well up with tears again. “I don’t know, Ash. For the first few years after your dad died, I wasn’t as present. I had to work extra, long hours at the salon to keep things afloat, and you … Well, when I think about all you’ve done and how you dropped everything for us …”

It’s hard to swallow the guilt that overcomes me when I see Mom like this and think about all the times I’ve been angry or frustrated with my decision. It really wasn’t a choice at the time, it was something I had to do and I honestly don’t regret it.

I place my hand on her back, rubbing gently. “You’re doing the best you can, Mom. We all are.” It suddenly occurs to me that I haven’t even seen Colt since I found out about the cancer.

I motion toward the stairs. “Where is everyone? I want to talk to Colt. Does Delilah know?”

“Colt is at Charlie’s and Delilah is with Julie.” Mom massages her temples in a circular motion. “She doesn’t know yet, Ash.”

A sense of dread flows through me, my stomach tightening at the thought of having to tell Delilah about Colt. She’s actually been happier lately and having her spiral again would be unbearable. “I’ll talk to her, Mom. Let me be the one to tell her.”

She shakes her head back and forth repeatedly. “No, Ash. You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Mom.” I raise my voice, firmly strengthening my resolve. “She’ll take it better if it comes from me.” I pause. “So, when does he need to have the surgery?”

Tears fall again from her eyes. “Next Tuesday. They can’t wait, Ash. They have to try and remove the tumor as soon as possible. As it is, they don’t know what the outcome will be. Even if they do remove it,” she chokes on a sob, “they don’t know how it will affect him … what his brain function will be like.”

I pull her close and let her cry into my chest because this is what
she
needs. She shouldn’t have to go through this alone. She needs someone to hold her, to comfort her. Someone who isn’t her son. Dad would have wanted that for her. He wouldn’t want her to struggle through this alone.

I pick myself up off the floor and start for the kitchen. “I’m going to make you something to eat, Mom.”

She sniffs, her tears subsiding and I hand her a tissue. “I’m not hungry, sweetie.”

“Well, you have to eat, Mom. I’ll make some pasta.”

She doesn’t argue, only picks up the photo albums and places them back in the cardboard box.

I take out a large pot from the cabinet, fill it with water and place it on the stove. Throwing some salt in, I cover it, grab the spaghetti and a jar of sauce when I hear the door and in walks Delilah.

“Hi, Mom … Mom … what’s wrong?”

My hand freezes, nearly dropping the jar to the ground, and I wait. When Mom’s silent, I walk back out into the living room. “Hey, baby girl.”

I reach out for her and she jerks her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s going on, Ash? Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Delilah, come with me.” I grasp her hand tightly and lead her up the stairs.

“Oh, God, what now?!” she shouts as we head up to her room.

Once we’re inside, I close the door behind us and look around the room. Her bed is neatly made with four pillows placed against a purple fabric headboard, an uncluttered wooden dresser sits directly across from it. A purple jewelry box graces the center of her dresser next to a glass bottle filled with coins, a couple of family pictures surrounding the edges of her mirror. Her closet door is open and all her shoes and clothes are lined up. Everything looks so put together, completely opposite from how I know she feels inside.

“Sit down, Delilah.”

She doesn’t sit. Instead, she paces back and forth. “You and Mom are making me nervous. Whatever it is, just tell me, Ash.”

“Delilah,” I say with a heavy sigh, “Colt has a brain tumor.”

Her jaw drops open with disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. He’s perfectly fine. He already had those tests before and he’s fine.”

Getting up from the bed, I stand in front of her and grip her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “You know those headaches he’s been having? Well, Mom took him to the doctor again and after doing some more tests, they found a tumor.”

She pounds on my chest with her fists. “No … Ash … NO!!!! Not Colt … please not Colt …” She spins around, snatches the glass bottle from her dresser, and throws it against the wall. We watch, frozen, as it smashes into a million pieces, change flying everywhere. Delilah’s body crumples to the floor, swallowed up by loud cries, her hair an auburn cloak hiding her sorrow.

I clutch her in my arms, cradling her like I did when she was a little girl and had fallen from the swing. She’s still that little girl inside. “Shhh … It’s okay, Delilah. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll all get through this together. Colt’s strong. He’s a fighter and a survivor like the rest of us. He’ll survive this.”

Delilah speaks in a whisper through her tears. “And what if he doesn’t, Ash? What then?”

The truth is I don’t know what then. I’m fucking scared … The fear is paralyzing, like a dark shadow looming over me, chasing me and I can’t get away … .the hospital, the surgery, the possibility of Colt never waking up. It’s like Dad all over again and I know how well I handled that … A hard gasp leaves my throat, taking all of my breath with it.

I rock her back and forth slowly in my arms. “Let’s just take one moment at a time, okay?”

She burrows herself further into me, staining my chest with her sadness, joining our pain. “Why, Ash? Why?”

I wish I knew the answer to that.
It’s something I’ve asked myself a million times since Dad died.

I tuck Delilah into her bed and pull the covers over her. Tears drip down her cheeks and she starts laughing through them. She sounds psychotic and almost delirious. I’m teetering on the edge myself.

“Delilah?”

“I’ll never forget that time I was home alone and it was right after, well, you know, I had gotten my period …”

“God, Delilah … Is this something I really want to hear? Is it going to turn me off from women for the rest of my days?”

She ignores me, and continues. “No one was home and I was trying to figure out how to use those tampons without the applicators …”

I throw a pillow over my head and lay back, willing my brain not to process this conversation.

“The bathroom door was wide open and I was spread eagle trying to put the darn thing in. I didn’t even hear him walk up the stairs, but boy when my bare ass met Colt’s wide eyes, I don’t know who was more embarrassed. He couldn’t look at me for like a whole month.”