Not Looking For Love: Episode 2 (7 page)

I turn to look at myself in the hall mirror and nearly burst into tears. My nose is bright red, and a dark blue bruised shaped like a moth stretches upwards towards my eyes.

"I crashed my car and got hit by the air bag," I explain. "But I'm fine, I really am."

 
"Should I take you to the hospital?" he asks walking over to me and cupping my chin to get a better look.

I peel his hands from my face. "I'm fine, it's just a bruise."

"Where's your car now?"

"I left it in the street, so you wouldn't get freaked out if you saw it before I got up," I say. "I'm fine, really. How's Mom?"

"About the same," he says, and walks back to the kitchen. "I'll take care of your car. Put something on your face before she sees you though, or you'll scare her to death."

The word hangs between us, ripping through my heart. "I will," I say and run up the stairs to shower and change. I cake on about a pound of concealer before I finally go to my mom.

Her cheeks are sunken, and the bags under her eyes are the same color as my bruise, only permanent. I climb under the covers and wrap my arm around her stomach, careful not to constrict her lungs. Her breaths are coming in shallow, harsh rasps, punctuated now and again by a deeper, desperate gasp, but she's asleep.

I want to tell her about Scott, ask for her advice. But it's her death that's causing all my indecision and I mustn't burden her like that. I can't. She doesn't deserve it.

My eyes sting as my tears make the concealer run. I finally fall asleep, imagining her and I are just taking an easy Sunday nap.
 

"Gail, I can't…" she says and I jerk up, withdrawing my hand from across her waist.
 

She heaves up, coughing violently. My heart stops in my chest and doesn't start up again.
 

My mom's face is blue now, and her gasps sound like they get stuck somewhere in her throat. Edna rushes in and attaches the oxygen mask over my mom's face. Mom's desperate struggles for breath cease, but her face is still twisted in pain.

"Mommy?" I say, tears burning my eyes.
 

She turns to me slightly, her eyes glistening. Tears well from mine. I'm certain that this is it, sure she'll die right now and leave me all alone.

But her breathing eases and she pulls off the mask herself, holding it out for Edna to take.

"It's better." Her voice is raw.

I nestle in beside her again, resting my forehead against her arm. My heart is racing furiously again, like it's making up for the missed beats before.

"Gail, I love you very much. You can't ever forget that," she whispers, and a new wave of tears floods my eyes.

"I love you too, mommy, so much," I croak.
 

Her hand finds mine and she squeezes, her skin like paper. And we stay like that, in silence, because there really isn't anything else to say.

Dad comes in at about twelve.
 

"Would you like some lunch?" he asks as I look up. Mom is asleep and he sits on the edge of the bed, taking her other hand in his.

"No, I'm fine," I whisper back.

"I managed to take your car in. It should be ready by Wednesday," he says, brushing a strand of my mom's hair back under her scarf.

She shudders and her eyes flutter open. The look that passes between them is filled with such anguish I have to close my eyes.

My phone rings in my room, but I ignore it. It stops after five rings.

"Maybe you should go out, Gail," Mom says. "It looks like it's a nice day."

"It is. The sun's finally out again, and it's quite warm," Dad says. "I just walked back from town."

"I think I'll stay in today," I say.
 

We stay together like that for what feels like hours, like forever, not talking, barely moving. My mom's cough doesn't make an appearance for a change, but her breaths are as raspy as ever.

At four, my phone rings again. Mom is asleep now and Dad is still holding her hand, looking off into space like maybe he fell asleep too, but with his eyes open.

I slide out of bed slowly. "I'll go turn it off," I tell my dad and leave the room with every intention of doing just that.

It's a strange number calling and they've already hung up, but I call back anyway.

"Hey," Scott says, "I have some time now. Do you want to go do something?"

I slump down on my bed. "I don't know."

"OK," he says, and it's kind of a question, but not quite.

I scuff my toe against the carpet. "Just for a little while?"

"Yeah, whatever. I can come pick you up."

"Yes," I say.

"In half an hour."

"Good."

I'm not sure why I said yes, I had no intention of doing so. But I'm already doing my make up, and finding the perfect thing to wear and it's like that's all there is.

"I'll be back soon." I kiss my mom's forehead. She's awake now, but they're just looking at each other and I would be in the way.

"Have a good time," Mom says, and I promise her I will.

"So where do you want to go?" Scott asks as I get in his car. It's an old Toyota today.
 

I suggest a cafe on the beach that's only about ten minutes from my house. It's hot out again and I'm overdressed in my jean jacket. Scott's wearing a loose t-shirt that's still tight enough to show off his muscles.

I want to run my hand down his bicep, want him to touch me, but I'm done with being a slut.
 

"So, is this your new car?" I ask to distract myself from the fantasy of telling him to take me back to his place.

"This horrible old thing? No, I borrowed it from my dad."

He rummages in his pocket when we stop at a red light, and pulls out a clear plastic box. "Here, it's one of my mom's magnets. I found some more up in the attic."

"Oh, you shouldn't have." I don't know how I feel about getting gifts from Scott, but I take the box anyway. In it there's a magnet shaped like a message in a bottle. Some sand and a tiny shell are inside the little bottle, like it was just washed up ashore. The roll of parchment is covered in tiny writing.

"You like it?" he asks. I'm holding it right next to my nose, trying to read the words.

"Love it. But are you sure it's alright that I just take it?"

"Yeah, it's fine," he says.
 

"I can buy it from your mom," I insist.

"I'm sure she'd want you to have it."

"You didn't ask her?" I say holding it back to him.
 

"Keep it, Gail," he says, staring straight ahead now. "I'll ask when I see her, but I'm sure she's not gonna mind."

Something in his voice tells me that's not going to happen for a good long while, but I'm done being a bitch over him giving me a thoughtful present. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, which is what I really wanted to do all along.

"Thank you," I whisper.

His skin is smooth and warm, and his aftershave hits me hard in the stomach, makes me wish he'd pull over so we could kiss for real. He turns to me and smiles, and the desire doubles, multiplies.

A few minutes later we reach the beach. A slight breeze is coming from the sea, bringing the scent of salt and sunscreen.
 

The cafe is packed, but we manage to get a table by the edge, almost on the sand. The sun is piercing my eyes, and giving me a slight headache. I wish I'd brought my sunglasses.

"Your bruise doesn't look that bad today," Scott says.

I bring my hand up to my face reflexively. "Oh, it does. I'm just wearing a ton of makeup."

"Oh, yeah. Makeup," he says.
 

I spoon the foam off my latte when it arrives. Scott stares at me as I lick it off, his lips slightly parted. I take another spoonful, enjoying the tingling sensation his gaze sends across my lips.

"So, how's your mom?" he finally asks, his voice hoarse.
 

"About the same," I say, echoing my dad's words. The question turns the tingles into melting rivers of snow.

"She doesn't have much time left," I hear myself saying.
 

"That's really sad," he says, and I know he means it. His eyes are blue like a calm waterfall in the summer, spilling over grey rocks.

"It is," I say. I still don't want his pity or his understanding. I came here so the world would be still and I could breathe easier, not so I can talk about my mom.

"I'm sorry about last night at the club," I say, changing the subject. "I don't know what came over me."

"Seemed like you were a little jealous," he says and chuckles.
 

"That is indeed what it seemed like," I answer. "Not that it made much sense at the time."

His eyes are glimmering now, catching the sun.

"Was the guy who left with Kate your brother?" I ask, suddenly remembering another thing I really didn't understand last night.
 

A shadow passes over his eyes like a dark cloud, until I'm sure it will start raining at any moment. "Yeah, it was."

"But she thinks his name is Mark," I say, growing a little weary and scared for Kate.

"It is. That's his middle name," Scott explains, but I'm not sure I believe him.
 

"Janine certainly thought it was strange," I say. Besides Michael Mark sounds like a weird name combination.

"He never uses his middle name," Scott says, and it sounds plausible, on the surface, but not quite.

"Speaking of Janine," Scott continues. "She said she wanted to join us. She wants to show you how to apply makeup to cover up that bruise so it doesn't show."

I'm torn between outrage that she wants to crash our date, and the desire to know how to hide my bruise. My makeup skills are seriously lacking in that department.

"Can she show me?" I ask.

Scott shrugs. "I guess. She used to do her own makeup when she was modeling and she took a class, I think. I don't know, she usually looks pretty good."

"She does look good," I mutter.

He grins at the look that must be plastered on my face. "Yeah, Janine's really hot." Jealousy really is a painful emotion. I feel like my head will burst open. "But I'd still rather she didn't come today. I just thought I'd ask, since I know how you girls like to look good."

His words aren't quite registering, but I think I get his meaning anyway. Maybe it's the fact that he's pressing his leg against mine under the table as he's saying it.
 

"Call her. I'd rather not look like someone beat me up for the next two weeks," I say.

He pulls out his phone and starts texting her, but I can just tell he's not thrilled about it. And neither am I, not really.

I put my hand over his phone. "Or she can show me some other time." He places his phone on the table, the text half written. "You really shouldn't have said she was hot."

He grins at me crookedly, his teeth gleaming in the sunlight. I can't wait anymore for him to make the first move. I lean over the table and kiss him. It's a clumsy move, and I bump my cup, sending coffee sloshing all over the table.
   

His lips are soft, but a little chapped from the cold, and the roughness sends a jolt of electricity right through me. I'm touching his arms, my fingers under his sleeves, feeling the hard muscles. His tongue is in my mouth now, and I can taste coffee and mint. I press my leg against his more firmly, and he runs his fingers through my hair, pulling me closer, kissing me deeper. I don't want it to stop, ever.
 

I'm so ready to do this for the rest of the day, take it farther, all the way. But people, mostly families with little kids, are watching and that irks me. I pull away from the kiss, the cold air turning my lips to ice.

"What?" he asks, his hand still tangled in my hair.

"All these people…" I say, "I feel like I'm on stage."

"Seriously, Gail?" He releases me and leans back. "You didn't strike me as a prude like that."

I know he's thinking about the way I attacked him in Kate's garden, how I came to him in just my underwear. I'm seeing those images clearly, like he just described them to me in detail, though he did nothing of the sort. He's still leaning back in his chair, his eyes darker now, like a midnight sky in deep winter, dangerous and cold. My mind is stuck between wanting to run, and throwing myself at him right here, right now.

"I was a little out of it last week," I say finally, honestly.

"So this isn't all just some game you're playing?"

My eyes are wide open and I shake my head. "No." How can he think that? How can he not?

"I went to high school with a lot of rich girls like you. Doing what you want when you want, then acting like you're above it all with your daddy's money and connections to fall back on."

I lean back too, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't know what kind of girls you've been with, but I'm not like that. I was just very confused and very hurt, and maybe I just wanted to feel good for a little while." My cheeks are burning and my breath is sticking in my throat, but I can't stop talking. "Don't pretend you've never just slept with a girl because you wanted sex, you're not the type. And my dad doesn't have a lot of money."

He leans forward, knocking the table with his leg and sending our cups jangling. "So you were just using me?"
 

"Maybe I was." He doesn't scare me, not really, though his eyes are so dark now it's like a hurricane is about to hit.

"Are you still doing it?"

"I don't think so." It's the truth, but he shouldn't be able to pry the truth from me so easily, I should fight it.

"Oh, Gail," he says and leans back, still staring with me with that impossible look.

"My name's Gail, not gale," I say.

He grins a little. "I'm not so sure. You're pretty intense."

My mouth is hanging open, I know it is. Did he just compare me to a storm wind? Does he think I'm completely wild?

"I don't even know why you wanted to see me again," I say, feeling tears bubbling in my throat. "You clearly think I'm crazy."

"Well," he says in a tone that makes my bottom lip shake. I bite down hard on it.