Relativity (4 page)

I relieve myself of the vodka, feeling ten pounds lighter. After washing my hands, I twist the cap off Knox’s toothpaste and swish a glob around in my mouth to freshen my mouth. I groan when I realize that I’m going to have to stick my feet back into those awful heels because I don’t want to wake Knox to take me home. I open the cabinet underneath his sink searching for bandages to cover my blisters with to help the pain.

The cabinet is neatly organized with extra bars of soap, packs of toilet paper, mouthwash and washcloths. I can’t get over how grown up Knox has become. He isn’t the lazy, immature sex maniac that I remember. Somehow he’s magically been replaced with a mature, responsible, caring man.

“Rip, you okay?” Knox asks groggily through the door, startling me.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be right out,” I answer, shutting the cabinet door quietly. I stand up and straighten my dress then survey myself in the mirror. My face is a tiny bit flushed from the small buzz I have, but I don’t look too bad, especially considering the day I’ve had. That must be what all of this is. My brain is trying to compartmentalize all these different emotions and everything is just getting crossed. Everything will be fine in the morning. Knox will just be Natalie’s big brother, not some guy I want to ravage for hours on end. I finger comb my long blonde hair to try and make myself a little more presentable even though I’m just heading home.

A bottle of cologne sits innocently on the counter by the sink. I pick it up, remove the lid, and then breathe in deeply. Every sexual thought I’ve had about Knox since I got here plays on a loop in my mind and I know I can’t leave here without knowing if he feels the same way. I’m suddenly filled with a confidence I never knew I had.

I storm out the door where Knox is waiting patiently by the front door, flipping his keys around his finger. I strut toward him, wearing my desire for him all over my face. I can’t even consider the possibility that he doesn’t want me the same way. I’m half-way to him when he looks at me and knows. He drops his keys and moves toward me.

Our lips crash together with a force I’ve never known before. His tongue plunges into my hot mouth and his hands are everywhere. I run my hands all over his body, wanting every last inch but not knowing where to start because I’m so turned on that I feel like all the circuits in my head are going to fry.

Knox pulls away suddenly and I hate how cold I feel without his arms around me.

“I can’t do this,” he says, pacing the kitchen floor. “You’re just confused right now. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I pull the tie on my shift dress then let it fall to the floor. “Does it look like I’m confused?” I ask, posing seductively in my bra and panties.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he says, biting his knuckle as he runs his eyes up and down my body.

“I want you, Knox,” I say, trying hard to sound seductive. My voice is clouded from the vodka and I’m just hoping that I don’t sound ridiculous.

Knox walks slowly toward me, his eyes on mine. He wants me, I know he does. When he gets close enough to touch me, he bends down and picks up my dress. Gently, he slips a sleeve over one of my arms then the other and attempts to tie it. I stand there, stunned, feeling like an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” I force out, dangerously close to tears but I’ve already humiliated myself enough for one night.

He touches my cheek, lovingly, his eyes kind. “Please don’t apologize, Ripley.”

It’s the first time I can ever remember him calling me by my entire first name and a ripple of pleasure flutters through me but humiliation quickly edges its way back in.

“I should go,” I say, my actions stunted by the vodka as I continue to just stand there.

“Sure, let me get my keys,” he says, dropping his hand and moving toward the door to slip on his shoes and grab his keys off the floor.

I really want to just run out the door and never look back but my body won’t cooperate and I let him drive me home.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say lamely. I’m thankful for the small buzz I still have going so that I don’t have to feel the full weight of the shame and humiliation I should be feeling.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but everything is going to be okay,” he assures me, reaching his hand over to squeeze mine. I jerk away because I can’t touch him without wanting him and I don’t want to embarrass myself again. Once was bad enough.

“Bye, Knox,” I mumble, practically tumbling out of the car and hobbling toward my front door.

******

The minute I open my eyes the next morning I know I’m going to puke. I rush into my bathroom and heave in the toilet, not a second too soon. I puke up stuff I’m pretty sure I ate in second grade, but once I’m done, I feel a little better. I rest my head against the cool exterior of the bath tub and swear to never drink a drop of alcohol again.

I flush the toilet, wet a washcloth down with cold water, and retreat back to my bed. I’m just about to drift off when last night’s memories come flooding back. I bolt upright in my bed, the washcloth dropping onto my comforter as I realize that I dropped my dress in front of Knox.

“Oh, holy hell,” I mumble, falling back into my pillows. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to forget but the image of me dropping my dress and trying my best to look sexy is all I can see behind my eyes. “Oh my God, oh my God.” I writher around on the bed, trying to convince myself that it was just a bad dream. Of all people I could come on to, why did it have to be Knox?

I try to replay our time together from the minute he stopped me on the country road. Everything is clear until we get to his loft then the vodka starts to make things fuzzy. I remember starting to feel these weird things about him. Seeing him in a light I’d never seen him before. I wanted him so bad.

We kissed. And it wasn’t just me, it was mutual. It was hot. It was the hottest kiss I’ve ever had before. But maybe that was just the vodka too. I remember how sweetly he redressed me even though at the time I just wanted him to have his way with me all night. I know I should be grateful that he didn’t take advantage of my obviously drunk/delirious state but my cheeks are still feel hot from the humiliation of knowing he didn’t want me back.

I just have to pray that he doesn’t mention this to Natalie. She would never forgive me, drunk or not.

Dad and I exchange a look across the table as the ear-shattering conversations of four hearing- challenged senior citizens rage around us. The doorbell rings for the fourth time this morning and I rush to answer it, happy to escape the mind-numbing conversations about high blood pressure, cholesterol, and nursing home insurance. I love my grandparents and I know they are only trying to help, but I swear if they don’t leave soon, I might run away.

I fling the door open to find our neighbor, Karen, holding yet another casserole dish. I never realized that when somebody dies people bring you an endless buffet.

“Karen, you’ve got to stop. We’re going to weigh a thousand pounds,” I tease, taking the dish from her.

“It’s the least I can do. Your mom was so sweet to me when I was going through my divorce.” Her eyes go misty at the thought of Mom.

“Well, thank you again,” I say, feeling awkward. I’m never quite sure if I’m supposed to invite people in when they bring something or not. But I’m doing Karen a favor by not inviting her into the senior citizen vortex we’ve got going on right now. She leans in and hugs me, even though I can’t hug back with my hands full of casserole, then scurries off to her own life.

“Karen?” Dad asks, as I shove the casserole into our already overflowing refrigerator.

“Yep, she’s got her own shelf in the fridge now,” I say, smiling.

“You two have such wonderful friends and neighbors. You’ll never get lonely with all these people stopping by all the time,” Grandma Noni says cheerfully. For the first time in two hours, a hush falls over the table.

“Grandma, I’m pretty sure I’ll miss Mom no matter who comes to the door,” I say softly.

“For Christ sake, Mom,” Dad groans, “she didn’t lose a pet.”

Grandma Diane gets very interested in her pancakes as Grandpa Earl drapes his wrinkly arm across her shoulders and squeezes her. Sometimes I forget that Mom was her baby, just like I was Mom’s baby. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Tears drip down her face into her plate of pancakes.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Grandma Noni says, getting defensive. She has a tendency to react like a feral cat if she feels herself getting challenged in any way. Normally, Papa comes to the rescue and diffuses the situation but he seems to be just as blindsided by her comment as the rest of us.

“My wife is dead,” Dad yells, pounding his fist on the kitchen table causing plates and silverware to momentarily lift off. “My daughter lost her mother and these wonderful people lost their precious daughter.” He glances painfully to my mother’s parents who are now openly sobbing.

I’m standing here, stunned. I thought yesterday would be the worst day of my life but this one is giving it a run for its money and it isn’t even ten in the morning yet.

“I lost her, too,” Grandma Noni stammers but there is no real emotion to back it up and her words rain down on the table, empty.

“I want you to call and change your reservation, Mom. I’m driving you to the airport this afternoon,” Dad demands. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen out of him since we got the news about Mom.

I can almost feel the relief washing over Grandma Noni as she realizes that she’s being released. She never wanted to be here in the first place. I know she loves Dad but she got it into her head not to like Mom a long time ago and I’m just an extension of Mom in her eyes. She doesn’t even put up a fight, just excuses herself from the table and goes upstairs to pack.

I’ve never really cared for her, but in that moment I hate her so much I can barely keep from punching her when she walks by me. Why couldn’t she have died instead of Mom? Nobody would have even cared. I think even Papa would have felt like his invisible chains had been cut off. He pats me on the head as he shuffles by me, not daring to test Grandma by not following after her like an obedient dog.

“She didn’t mean anything by it. Everybody grieves in different ways,” Grandpa Earl says gently.

“Earl, Diane, I love you both, but I have to ask you to leave also. Ripley and I have to figure this out and we just need some time,” Dad pleads, ripping his napkin into a million pieces.

“We understand,” Grandma says, scooting out of her chair. She walks over to my father and folds him into her tiny frame. Sobs rack both of their bodies and I have to leave the room.

I escape to my bedroom and fling myself onto my unmade bed. I sob into my pillow knowing that I’ll never again hear Mom beg me to make my bed before school. I never understood the point, knowing that I’d just be right back in it that night. She told me that it was because bedtime was her favorite time of the day. Crawling into the warm covers, knowing the people she loved the most were safe under the same roof as her. She said a made bed was like a present that she got to unwrap every single night.

I make myself get off the bed and grab the flat sheet, pulling it even on both sides. Then, I pull up the comforter and smooth it down, making sure each side has equal lengths. I stack the pillows I sleep on first, then carefully place the shams in front of them. I grab the plush brown teddy bear Mom got me for Valentine’s Day and put him right in the center of my newly wrapped present. For the rest of my life, I won’t be able to get into bed without thinking of my mother. I collapse in a heap on the floor, sobs racking my body.

******

I must drift off because the next thing I hear is a soft knock at my bedroom door. I pry myself off the carpet, realizing the left side of my face will probably have an imprint for the rest of the day. I peek out my door to see Grandma Diane nervously waiting outside it.

“Are you leaving?” I ask, my voice sounding like I’ve been gargling with gravel.

She nods, tears streaming down her face. “Can we Skype several times a week?”

“Of course, we can,” I reply, folding her into my chest for a hug. “And we’ll come visit you. We just need to figure some stuff out.” I hear the words coming out of my mouth but they sound wooden. How long does it take to figure out that your mom is dead and your life will never be the same?

She pulls out of the hug and places her hands on my cheeks. “Grandpa couldn’t bear saying goodbye. You just look so much like your mother that it’s hard on him. We love you, Ripley.”

A honk comes from below us in the garage and I realize that the others must already be ready to go. I think about tagging along to keep Dad company on the drive back from the airport but then I realize that it will be the first time he’s been alone since he lost his wife and he will probably welcome the solitude.

“Bye, Grandma,” I say to her retreating figure. If I’m the younger version of Mom, I wonder if Grandma is the older version. I guess we’ll never get to find out.

I listen for the van to pull out of the garage and down the driveway. I contemplate getting my feelings hurt that my other set of grandparents didn’t even bother to say good-bye but then I realize I don’t really care. I’m just glad they’re gone.

Once I make sure they are gone, I head for my parent’s bedroom. I’ve been itching to get in here alone since the accident. I tiptoe through the door and around to my mother’s side of the bed. I keep glancing around me, waiting to get caught. I feel like a thief. Gently, I lift Mom’s pillow and bury my face in it.

I slump on the bed when the memories start to hit me. Her scent flows through me and, for a second, I almost forget she is gone forever.

Her hysterical giggle over things that weren’t even remotely funny, the way she braided her thick blonde hair when she was going to clean all day and didn’t want it in her face, watching her punch down dough acting like she was Evander Holyfield whenever she made homemade bread. All of these memories and a thousand others wash over me.