Relativity (5 page)

A knock at the front door pulls me back to reality. I gently place the pillow back onto the bed and cuss all the way down the stairs at the unknown person at the door. I just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask?

I whip the door open to find Natalie bouncing up and down with her hands jammed in the pockets of her jeans.

“Holy helmet hair, you look like a struck match,” she announces, barreling past me and into the house.

Guilt oozes out of the same pores that were just filled with sorrow. I can’t believe I wanted to have sex with Natalie’s brother. “Nat, I’m not really in the mood to entertain,” I plead off.

She shuts the door and pulls me into the kitchen. “I read all about the stages of grief and the first one is denial and isolation. I get it, you want to isolate yourself so that you can tell yourself that your mom didn’t really die, but I’m not going to let you. I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

I allow myself to be pulled on a seat at our kitchen island while Natalie ransacks the various casseroles and decides on a tuna one. She retrieves two plates and microwaves us both a heaping portion. She sets the plate and a mug of milk in front of me, still talking about these stages that I’m apparently going to be struggling through. I can’t even hear her voice though because my mind is back on that kiss Knox and I shared last night. I wonder if there is a slutty, terrible best friend phase because I’m pretty sure I already blew through that one.

Natalie drags a stool to the other side of the island so that she is sitting across from me and stabs a forkful of casserole. Chewing, she looks around curiously. “Where the heck is everybody?”

“My dad kicked them out. He’s driving them to the airport as we speak. It was brutal.”

“Wow, go Mr. Edgecombe. No offense but your Grandma Noni is a complete hag. She was mad because there was no wine at the dinner last night,” Nat says, chomping on a noodle. “I told her I could go steal the wine used for communion but she didn’t think that was very funny.”

I start laughing, hysterically, picturing the look on Grandma Noni’s face at the thought of Natalie stealing the communion wine. It feels so good to laugh then I immediately feel guilty and try to bottle it up.

“You don’t have to be unhappy all the time. Your mom wouldn’t have wanted that.”

I almost throw up on my plate realizing that Natalie thinks I’m denying myself simple pleasures like laughing. I sure wasn’t trying to deny myself any pleasure last night. She would hate me if she found out. I swallow hard and know that I will keep this secret until the end of time so that I don’t lose Natalie. I just hope that Knox does the same.

“Thanks for being here, Nat.”

She holds her pinky out and I wrap mine around it, something we’ve done for years.

“Girl, I ain’t going nowhere. P.S., you need to call Tate because he’s been blowing up my phone all morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He asked me for your cell number yesterday and said he tried to call you twice last night but you didn’t answer. He wants some of that va-jay-jay, girl,” she teases.

“Seriously?” I ask, incredulously.

No guys have so much as sniffed around me since Drew and I broke up last year. Now I’m getting more action than a porn star. Grieving girls must give off some scent that attracts men, kind of like how a coyote can sense a wounded deer.

“Yep, he wants some of that stank,” she jokes.

“He just feels bad for me. It was purely a pity call. He probably isn’t used to girls running out on him,” I say, embarrassed about the way I just bolted out of the church. He probably thinks I’m a total freak.

“Jesus, you’ve been dreaming about getting him out of those athletic pants for months and now you aren’t even excited that he’s calling you?”

“No, I am. Excited, I mean. I’ll call him back later,” I say, knowing I won’t be in the mood to turn my phone on for several more hours. My Facebook page has become a memorial and I’m tired of the endless sympathy texts.

“Knox is back,” Natalie announces. I accidentally knock my mug of milk over. She races to get some paper towel and quickly wipes it up.

“Sorry. I’m such a klutz.” I try to buy myself some time to calm down before she starts talking about Knox. I feel like everything is going to be written across my face the minute we start talking about him.

“No worries. So, anywho, Knox is home. You’re going to freak when you see him. They made him chop his hair off. He’s kind of buff now, too. It’s kind of a trip, he’s like a grown ass man bu he totally pissed me off yesterday. He promised he would show up to the funeral and he baled. He was probably off fucking some skeeze.”

I nearly choke on the small bite I just took. “Is he with someone already?” I ask, hating myself.

“Believe me, it won’t be long before he chooses his first victim,” she says, giggling.

“Maybe the Navy changed him,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Yeah, and maybe I didn’t let Cale Timmons go down on me last night after the dinner.”

“Natalie, he’s married,” I shriek. I feel sick, knowing that if I would have just stayed with her yesterday neither one of us would have allowed ourselves to get into such self-destructive situations.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t fuck him. I do have a little bit of self-respect.” She is smiling but underneath it I know she’s hurting. She’s been acting out since her parents started having problems. I thought it was just a phase that she would get over but messing around with a married man is no joke. I have to keep a better eye on her from now on. If Mom were here, she would know how to help Natalie deal with her feelings in a healthier way.

“I keep thinking she’s just going to walk back in the door and tell us that it was all a mix-up,” I admit.

“That would be so awesome,” Natalie says with a sigh. She seems deflated and I realize how much energy she must expend just trying to be funny and upbeat all the time. If you are the one who always cheers people up, who cheers you up?

“She loved you so much,” I remind her.

“She was the best,” she chokes out, trying to hold back tears. “Just the best.”

She’s right. Mom was the best. She was the perfect wife, mother, and friend. And to honor her from here on out, I’m going to try and be the best daughter and granddaughter I can be. I’m also going to cherish the friendship I have with Natalie and try my best to support her the way that she does me. I’m going to do all the things a perfect best friend would do, like not sleep with her brother.

******

Later that afternoon our home phone rings. I almost let the answering machine get it because I know it is probably just one of the grandparents telling us they got home, but Dad is taking a nap and I don’t want it to wake him up.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hey, Ripley. It’s Knox,” a husky voice says.

My body reacts as if someone picked me up by my ankles, threw me upside down, and shook me. That’s when I realize it wasn’t just the vodka making me have those feelings for Knox last night. “Hey, Knox. How’s it going?” I say, trying to be super laid back.

“Um, good. You left your shoes over here last night and I was going to drop them off but I thought that might look kind of weird.”

I know for a fact that I will never wear those shoes again. I could easily just tell him to pitch them in the garbage. But something inside me lunges at the chance to see him again even though I know how dangerous it is.

“I could drop by sometime,” I offer.

“Great. How about tonight around seven?” he says, sounding excited.

“Um, sure,” I say, surprised that he almost seemed to know that I would offer to pick them up and already had a time in mind. Then I remember that he is probably just trying to be cautious about people seeing us alone together. It’s not like he can give the shoes to Natalie or leave them on my front porch in case Dad were to see him. No, he chose a time when it would already be dark and no one would see us together.

“It was nice catching up with you last night. I’ll see you at seven,” he says cordially then hangs up. I’m left holding the phone, quickly doing the math to figure out how long I have to wait until I see him again.

******

I hate myself for flat-ironing my hair and putting on my makeup with the precision of a makeup artist before I make my way to Knox’s, but I can’t help it. For some sick and twisted reason, I want to impress him. I’m wearing a coral-colored spaghetti-strapped summer dress and matching flip-flops. I begged Dad to borrow his truck because I can’t handle driving Mom’s van yet.

Carefully, I make my way to the other side of town parking next to Knox’s Jeep. I’m a much more contentious driver since Mom’s accident. But I can’t let myself start thinking about her so I focus on the excitement I feel about seeing Knox again. Not that these are safe emotions either but at least I won’t be crying when I get there.

I’m nervous as I make my way up the stairs hoping that when Knox opens the door I’ll feel nothing. I need confirmation that last night was all about the vodka and my emotional state after the funeral. I knock softly, holding my breath.

Knox opens the door, looking adorable in cargo shorts and a green V-neck T-shirt with a white dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. My body feels electrified at the sight of him and I try to smile naturally even though I know I’m in big trouble.

“Hey, kid. Get in here and help me,” he teases, pointing to a sizzling pan on his compact stove. The smell wafting out of the loft is amazing and I feel hungry for the first time in days so instead of just asking for the shoes and going on with my life, I step into his loft and let him close the door behind me. The fact that he just called me kid doesn’t escape me, though. It’s obvious this attraction is a one way street.

“It smells amazing in here,” I say, moving near the back of the couch so that we don’t accidentally touch in the small space. The tiny table that he has in the kitchen area is made up nicely with two place settings and a small vase of fresh flowers. My face burns realizing he’s expecting company. He just called me ‘kid’ for heaven’s sake, how much more clear do I need him to be that he thinks of me as nothing but his kid sister’s friend.

“Thanks. I’m a work in progress,” he says, throwing me wink as he pours a boiling pot of pasta into a strainer sitting in the sink then dumps the noodles back into their original pot. I watch him masterfully mix the homemade tomato sauce into the noodles and start scooping the mixture onto two plates.

“Thanks for calling about the shoes. I’ll just get them and go,” I say, looking around for the shoes. His company is obviously going to be here soon.

“You’re welcome, but I was hoping you’d stay for dinner,” he says, setting the plates on the table and holding out a chair for me.

“This is for me?” I ask, amazed, taking in the perfectly set table with new eyes.

“Of course, silly. I’m not going to invite you over at a certain time then make you watch me eat alone,” he teases.

I sit down in the chair he’s offering and let him gently push me to the table. He sits down across from me and we start to eat the amazing meal of salad, spaghetti, and breadsticks that he cooked. He tells me about his four years in the Navy as I proceed to pig out, knowing I should be embarrassed for eating like this in front of him but the food is so good that I just don’t care. Besides, eating disguises the nervousness that I still feel being around him.

I help him clean up the dishes, twirling around the same space like a performer out of Cirque de Soleil to avoid touching him.

“All done,” he says, putting the leftovers in his tiny fridge. “Let’s go sit down.”

I know I should tell him that I have to go but I feel so comfortable here with him. It is strange how I feel so attracted to him, yet I feel I could tell him anything.

We move to opposite ends of the couch and plop down, groaning from our full bellies.

“Thanks for dinner. You’re a great cook,” I tell him, closing my eyes, stretching my legs out in front of me and my arms behind me. When I open my eyes, I catch Knox staring appreciatively between my legs. My dress rode up when I stretched and now it covers to just below my panties. I jerk it back down which causes him to quickly look away. The air changes and I realize that last night had nothing to do with the vodka. The vodka was just an excuse to explain away all these unfamiliar feelings I was having about someone I thought I knew so well.

I see Knox swallow hard and fight with himself internally and I realize that I wasn’t imagining things last night. He wanted me, too. But he felt like he would be taking advantage of me because I had been drinking and the emotional weight of the funeral on my shoulders.

“I should go,” I say, realizing that the situation was dangerous before with just my feelings. Now, realizing Knox’s, the situation is downright combustible.

“Please don’t,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

I bound off the couch and toward the door, reaching down to my shoes, exactly where I left them last night. I’m about to turn the knob on the door, to leave this loft and all of these crazy feelings behind forever, when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

“Ripley,” he says in a tone so hypnotizing that I drop my hand and slowly turn to face him.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I confess, his hand still on my shoulder, electrifying my entire body. I thought scenes like this in a book or movie were just the work of an imaginative writer, I never thought for a second that I could actually feel like this.

“You know why we can’t do this, don’t you?” he asks, searching my eyes.

I nod, staying silent. He is going to stop this before it even starts again. I know that I should appreciate the fact that he is trying to be the clear head and not tangle our friendship up with sex, but I’m tired of feeling like I don’t have any control over my life. Ever since Mom’s death, people have been hovering over me trying to make every little decision for me. And this decision I want to make for myself, whether I’m making a huge mistake or not.

“Because I’m younger than you. I’m just a kid,” I pout, throwing his initial greeting back at him.