Meant For Me (5 page)

Her face fell.

It made me feel like the biggest prick ever. I took the phone and found her contacts. “You can text me and tell me what you were doing in Rockland,” I said. “And how old you are.” If she was eighteen I was out, even for casual conversation. I had to draw the line somewhere and when sober, I was determined no chicks under twenty-one. I couldn’t guarantee what the hell I would do drunk, but hey, it was a start.

After entering my number I showed her I had labeled myself as Aubrey’s Brother instead of as Ethan. “Just in case you’ve met a bunch of Ethan’s on Tindr,” I teased her.

Her expression was censorious.

Well then. Not a jokester. Got it. “No? You should try it. It’s great for hook-ups.” There I was, being an asshole again, egged on by my own personal discomfort. I was ashamed of my choices, and yes, I had used Tindr as a way to easily meet girls who wanted nothing but a fun night, no attachments. It was like online shopping for sex, and it wasn’t illegal.

But Chloe just shook her head. Taking her phone she started typing. A minute later I got a text from her.

I was in Rockland visiting my aunt and uncle. I’m twenty-one. And I don’t do online dating anymore
.

Anymore? Intriguing. And shit, I would not have pegged her for twenty-one. Now the question was, did I continue our conversation out loud or did I text her back? I decided to talk. “Does that mean you have a boyfriend?”

She shook her head with a frown. Then she pointed to me and made a question mark in the air.

“Do I have a boyfriend? No.” It was yet another stupid attempt at humor because I was uncomfortable with her. But again, her look of reprimand made me feel small and juvenile.

She texted me.

Are you gay?

“No. It was meant to be a joke. A stupid one. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend either. I’ve decided not to torture any unsuspecting women who might be crazy enough to think they want to have a relationship with me.”

And that didn’t sound even remotely bitter. I put my arm around her shoulder because I felt like I was unintentionally upsetting her. We were already in her driveway. I gave her a side hug. “Thanks for babysitting Emma. She’s cute, isn’t she?”

She nodded and smiled up at me. Then she opened her mouth and for a brief second I thought she was going to actually say something. But of course, no sound emerged and I wondered if I had actually imagined it. Or maybe it was some form of habit, or the need to try, but she wasn’t able to make it happen? I didn’t know.

Chloe stepped out of my touch.

I walked her to the front door of her house and she slipped inside with a wave. For a minute, I lingered on the front step, restless. Coming to Vinalhaven had been something I’d put off since Aubrey had given birth. Which was shitty. Three months had already gone by and what exactly had I been doing? I had no good reason for staying away and not supporting my sister and getting to know my niece. It was just more one thing I had fucked up.

Standing there in the warm end of summer breeze, I stared out at the lights of my sister’s clapboard house in the distance, then back again at Chloe’s. I should get off the porch before she or her father wondered what the hell I was doing. Considering I didn’t know, I had no real answer to any questions they might pose. For some reason, I had expected Chloe to continue texting me but my phone was silent in my hand.

As I stepped off the front porch and onto the walkway, the sound of a piano filled the air around me. It was from inside the house and drifting out the open windows. Someone had some talent because that was not “Chopsticks” being banged out on the keys. I glanced back and what I saw through the open window surprised me. The interior had several lights on, and with dusk rapidly falling, it made my view perfectly clear of the living room. It was Chloe at the piano. She wasn’t using any sheet music that I could see, but was playing gracefully and confidently. At one point, an older man, presumably her father, appeared in the living room, touching her shoulder briefly as he moved past her. It didn’t disturb her at all or break her rhythm.

My own shoulders relaxed as I listened. I didn’t know classical music at all, so I had no clue what she was playing, but I could tell when someone sucked and when they didn’t. Chloe was damn good and it was soothing. I lingered, not wanting to go back to Aubrey’s just yet. Seeing my sister was both awesome and guilt producing. Then again, talking to Chloe was the same on a much smaller scale. Without anyone even criticizing me, I felt reprimanded. Maybe it really was time to get my shit in order. If I was feeling bad when no one was saying a damn word to me, then I knew I was being an asshole.

So step two, along with no screwing girls under twenty-one, was to stop drinking. It was allowing me to drift along making stupid choices and not having to take responsibility.
Hey, it wasn’t me, it was the booze
. But the reality was that sure alcohol made all those barriers come down, but I still had to own my behavior.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I quickly glanced down at it, for a split second wanting it to be Chloe, even though it couldn’t be her. She was still playing and it wasn’t like she could tell Siri to text me. It was Lila. It was a picture of her out for the night, made up sexy night out style, false eyelashes on, cleavage on full display. She was making a duck face at me. Well, at the camera. There was no actual message included with the photo. I guess it was meant to say everything that needed to be said. As in, “Look at me, I’m hot.”

She was reminding me of her existence. I’d seen it before, even though I didn’t exactly understand it. Lila had been angry with me, offended by my attitude. So why didn’t she just let me disappear, fade away? Why did she feel the need to make sure we had a repeat of our night together? Was it because she was subconsciously ashamed of having a one-night stand? Was it the need to win? She had to know for her own ego that she could score my attention? I didn’t know. I did know that I had no desire to see Lila again.

Step three. Celibacy?

That wasn’t an appealing thought. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I was tense enough. Without sex I might explode. But I had spent all of my teen years with blue balls and I could do it again. I wanted sex to mean something again and if I needed to get some relief I’d just jerk off.

I texted Chloe.

You play beautifully. What is that?

I stole another glance at her. She was absorbed in her playing, her hair falling forward to cover her face. For the first time in forever, I was genuinely interested in what a girl was thinking. What was going on in her head? Was it like a running stream of desperate thoughts? Did she want to just scream and be heard and nothing could come out? Was she smart, funny, sly? It was hard to tell.

I wanted to hear her.

Walking away rapidly, realizing if I got caught now it would really be fucking weird since it had been ten minutes, I started a search on my phone on selective mutism. Aubrey had given me the overview, but I wanted more information. Scanning and reading quickly, I discovered that a lot of children with the disorder were artistically gifted. Chloe certainly had that trait. The article emphasized that these children wanted to speak, but couldn’t because of crippling anxiety. Chloe didn’t look anxious to me, and she wasn’t technically a child anymore. There didn’t seem to be a lot of information on what happened when these kids grew up. Did it just mysteriously fix itself? I wondered if it was all at once or if it happened gradually.

That would be pretty damn amazing.

Current studies seemed to show that it wasn’t the result of trauma in most cases. That was good to know. I’d had it in my head that mutism came from witnessing a murder or from being raped as a kid. Like serious hard-core, mess you the fuck up trauma. I didn’t want to know that Chloe had been through something like that. There were articles on treatments but I was already back at Aubrey’s. Her front door was unlocked and I went right in.

“You should lock your door,” I told her as a greeting. “Especially with Riker gone.”

“I didn’t realize you were going to be gone so long,” she said mildly, lying on the couch and watching TV. “That’s a five minute walk. You’ve been gone for almost half an hour.”

“Is Emma asleep?” I asked, looking around and seeing no drooling and cute baby. I wasn’t going to react to her comment.

“Yes.” Aubrey yawned. “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last myself. Once she’s out, I’m usually out right after her.”

I flopped down into a chair opposite her. “You don’t care if I stay up, do you? I haven’t gone to bed this early since fifth grade.”

She made a face. “No. I don’t care. But before I go to bed I need to ask you to stay away from my babysitter.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? I’m not the big bad wolf, for fuck’s sake. I walked her home, that’s it.”

Aubrey gave me a skeptical look. “Four years ago I would have believed you. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Nothing she was saying was surprising. Or untrue. But it still pissed me off. “Chill out. I just find her interesting because of the whole lack of speech thing.”

“She’s not a circus side show.”

“I never said she was!” I kicked my shoes off, annoyed. “For the record, Chloe is the one who asked me for my number, not the other way around.”

Her nose wrinkled. “That’s because she never gets off this island. You look good to someone who lives in isolation.”

That was so rude I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, hold back on the flattery there. I might get a big head.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What, that I’m ugly? I’m no pretty boy model, but my face probably won’t shatter mirrors.” I had no problem getting women. None. I didn’t think that I looked good to Chloe because she was chilling in Plato’s cave her whole life. She had said she online dated.

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I never said you were ugly. But she isn’t experienced enough to know that you’re unavailable. Emotionally unavailable, I mean.”

“Okay, Mom,” I said, irritated. “Thanks for working your psych degree on me. It’s the only use you’ve got for it I guess.”

“Don’t get bitchy with me,” she said mildly. “Or you’ll just confirm that you know I’m right.”

I threw a couch pillow at her. “Whatever. So what are we doing tomorrow? If I’m left sitting around all day I might be tempted to sweep your babysitter off her feet.”

“Haha, you’re hilarious. Want me to have Caitlyn over?”

My chest tightened. “Sure,” I said mildly. No point in dragging it out. Twenty months was long enough. Maybe a five minute conversation with Caitlyn would cure me of my emotional unavailability. Not.

I stood up, planning to get a beer in the kitchen. I stopped short, realizing what I was doing. Stress at meeting up with Caitlyn had automatically made me want to reach for a beer. Not to mention it was about the time most nights I started drinking. That kind of scared the shit out of me. I sat my ass back down so fast Aubrey gave me a weird look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just remembered something.”

“Okay, freak,” she said skeptically, in a voice only a sister could get away with. “I’m going to bed. I’ll get you a blanket and some towels. I’m sorry you have to sleep on the couch, but Emma took over the spare room. Which was never a guest bedroom anyway, so I don’t know what I’m talking about.” She gave a laugh as she stood up. “God, baby brain. People say that and it’s no joke, I’m telling you.”

“They also say girls steal their mother’s beauty and that’s clearly not true.” I gave Aubrey a charming smile.

She laughed. “There’s the old lady charmer douchebag I remember from most of my life. Good to have your politician in the making personality back for a brief second.”

At one time if not specifically political aspirations I had definitely envisioned myself running for judge in the future. But not now. If I did, a parade of coeds would be trotted out to commentate on my drunken behavior. I hadn’t done anything illegal. I hadn’t cheated on a woman or been caught with a hooker, but I still didn’t think it would go over well if half of UMaine came forward and said they’d hooked up with me. As Aubrey headed to bed, I wondered how many girls I had banged. I had never stopped to think about it or count. I didn’t want to.

My phone buzzed. It was Chloe, finally answering me. She must have finished playing.

It was Pachabel. I’m playing at a wedding in a few weeks.

Right. The song used for the bride’s coming down the aisle. I thought it had sounded familiar. Before I could respond she texted again.

So you heard me?

Yes. I heard you.

Suddenly that seemed very important.

Who is getting married?

It was a stupid question to ask because I didn’t know anyone in Vinalhaven but I didn’t know how else to extend the conversation. I was willing to admit talking to the mute girl seemed more interesting than watching a crap show on TV.

A local couple
.

I sat there, wondering what the hell I should say to that. I wanted the conversation to keep rolling. But before I could respond she texted again.

It’s an easy piece. I don’t need to practice really but I like it.

On someone else that might have sounded arrogant but it didn’t from Chloe.

How long have you been playing?

Since I was five. My parents wanted me to be good at something.

You obviously are.

I’m not bad. They tried piano and soccer and I was terrible at sports, so piano won.

I played soccer. I bet you weren’t that bad.

Really, really terrible. I’m not competitive. In the orphanage I was always last for everything.

Shifting on the couch, I stared at my phone screen. The orphanage? So Chloe was adopted. Maybe that explained a whole lot more about the mutism.

You’re adopted?

Yes. When I was three. From Russia. I forget not everyone knows that. It seems like everyone does.

Do you remember being adopted?

Yes. I remember everything.

Somehow I didn’t doubt that. I pictured Chloe’s mind like a fishing net- the tide washed everything in as a steady stream but nothing could leave again. It was all trapped inside.