Read What Brings Me to You Online
Authors: Loralee Abercrombie
What Brings Me to You (18 page)
"No, you don't love me. You think you love me because, frankly, you have nothing better to do right now. You feel sorry for me for being an ‘outcast’ as you put it but, guess what? Pity isn't love, Teddy. It's not even an adequate substitution. Pity won't last because, you're right Teddy, I'm not the person you think I am; I'm stronger. I know that there will come a day when you won't have to feel sorry for me anymore and you'll leave. I've learned, thanks to you, that I deserve someone who will put themselves out if it means protecting me from harm, because not one person in my life thus far, including you, has done that for me. And you never will. I know that when push comes to shove, your money, your power, your precious Lacey will always come before me. There's no future here. You have to see that." I thought I’d won. I thought I’d crushed him but he closed the space between us, gathered me in his arms and slammed his lips onto mine. I really hate to use this phrase because of all that it implies, but there really is no other way to describe it: he took my mouth. Claimed me so roughly that it shouldn’t have made my body tingle the way that it did. With the force of the kiss and his stubble roughly grating against my lips, I knew I’d be sore the next day but I didn’t care. My resolve was slipping. My arms were coming up to his neck to thread through his hair of their own accord. His hands were roaming my body, up and down my sides, making my heart pound harder in my chest and my knees shake. He was desperate and hungry for me. One hand gripped my hip forcefully and the other snaked up my back and held the back of my neck. I wanted him to kiss me like that, to hold me like that forever. Just as the thought crossed my mind he pulled back, my hands resting on his chest.
"Charley,” he whispered, his forehead touching mine. “I'm sorry I took you there, baby. You don't ever have to go back.” That statement brought me back to reality. He was sorry he brought me. He didn’t want me to go back. He didn’t want me around his family. He wanted me to be a dirty little secret. He wanted to cut me off from his world, just like Paul did because I didn’t belong. I’d never belong. I pushed away from him hard and took several steps backwards.
"I'm sorry too,” I gasped, still weak from the feel of him so close to me. “You're right I'm never going back. I'm going to walk into the house. I'm going to go up the stairs and into my prison cell of a room just like I've always done, and I'm never going to think of you or of this again."
"Charley --"
"It's over Teddy. Go live your life, but leave me out of it."
"Charley --"
"Goodbye."
Rip
CHAPTER TEN
Teddy
I sat in her driveway for way longer than was appropriate not knowing what to do. I was so sure, before we left her house that night that everything would be okay. That she'd come into my world, see there are good people out there and stay. Instead it degenerated into the cesspool that was now, my relationship with her. "FUCK!"
How the hell did I get here?
Focus, Teddy! Focus on facts. Eliminate variables.
What I knew was that I was pissed off at her and I said something really stupid and hurtful to get her to stop yelling which backfired. So backfired. But, it seemed based on her tone, she was angry at me before that.
Why...?
Don't focus on that now. It's an outlier. What else?
I told her I loved her and she didn't say it back. But in my room she was awed and ready to kiss me, she tried to fix me. She wanted me to be happy and maybe she would have said it back if we hadn't been interrupted.
Stop speculating! Focus on what you know.
I know she was happy until Claire. She let me kiss her cheek at the table and she liked it because her skin, her beautiful skin, heated when I did. She let me touch her thigh but then, suddenly, she jerked her leg away. She let me kiss her again. She was pissed, undoubtedly so, but she let me kiss her. She kissed me back and then pushed me away. Is that the last time I’ll ever kiss her?”
I must have gone around and around like this in her driveway with my head pressed against the steering wheel for twenty minutes. It was agony but that agony was part of the appeal of Charley. I'd spent my entire life able to figure shit out pretty quickly but she was a conundrum. Every time I thought I knew her, could anticipate her response, she did something like this to baffle me.
She dumped me.
The reality set in so big I couldn't hold it. "FUCK!" said again to my windshield. To her house. To her. This girl, for whatever reason, had me losing my shit. I'd never expended that much energy on a girl ever. Any relationship I had before, if you could even call them that,when I got bored I just let it evaporate into nothing. Not even friendship. I never really saw the point. My relationships weren’t really centered around verbal communication and once you stop talking with your body there isn’t much left to say.
The good guy that I’d buried deep inside me was screaming that I loved her. I was sure I loved her, Lace and even more sure that didn’t love you. But she had so much baggage that there was a niggling part of me that wondered if it was worth it to love her and I hated myself for feeling like that. I wanted to be someone worthy of Charley. My heart wanted to break down the door and fall on my knees in front of her because I was sure that if I lost her I'd die. My head wanted me to just turn the car around and go.
My head won.
It was a full twenty-four hours before I even considered calling Charley. I needed distance from her and the situation so I could function. Mom was a great distraction because she knew there was something wrong, but being her, didn't push. She was also completely taken with Charley, despite her admission about Paul.
"Oh, honey," mom said ruffling my hair like I was still nine years old. "I always knew Paul was a...a..."
"Just say it mom"
"Oh alright. I always knew he was a prick. Now, having pieced some things together, I know he's king of the pricks." This made me laugh not so much that it was funny but that it was true. Despite what mom thought she pieced together it wouldn’t come close to the horror that was the truth.
"Don't tell your father I said that, I don't think he knows."
"Oh?" That surprised me. Nothing escaped dad, usually.
"He sees what he wants to see, hon. Makes things easier for him."
"Oh. Right." This I understood. Dad, for all of our differences had that in common. He'd figured out a way to turn it off or to tune things out. I hadn't yet.
"Don't tell Andy either," she chided.
"Why not? Andy works with the king of pricks. I'm sure he's well aware of his level of prick-titude." She gave me a smile. "What was up with, Andy anyway? From the second he laid eyes on her he acted...weird. I mean, weirder than his usual self."
"Well I'm sure it's because he wanted to bang her."
"Mom!"
"What?"
"First of all people don't say 'bang' anymore."
"I'm sorry 'hook up' as you like to say."
"When have you ever heard me say 'hook up'?"
“I’ll give you that. 'Hook up' like Mickey likes to say.
"Why would Andy want to hook up with her?"
"Because she's gorgeous and we rarely see any color in this house."
"Mom!"
"I'm teasing honey, if only a little bit. She is very pretty. So much beautiful hair. I've never seen that much hair. Though, I doubt that's what Andy was looking at."
"Seriously, mom."
"Honey, you need to know, Andy is not happy. He's been doing a lot of 'hooking up' in the past few months."
"Oh?"
"Yes, honey, and he's drinking. A lot. Claire is very worried about him but whenever she tries to say something about it he gets angry and leaves. Last time he was gone for two days, no one knew where he went."
"Oh."
"Lacey is dealing with it the best she can. It's all very stressful, with her out West, she's only getting the part of the story Claire wants to share but sensed there was something amiss. She called me and, being the godmother I am, I had to give it to her straight. She hasn't really been okay since. Coming home this month has been rough on her. I thought you would've known all of this." No she didn't. She said the words but the look in her eye told me that she knew I had no clue.
"No mom, I didn't know."
"Well maybe you should call her."
"Or not."
"Or not. Up to you."
"Mom, I --"
"I like Charley, honey."
"You do?"
"Yes. I mean, she did give us all quite a surprise with that revelation of her parentage, but she's a sweet girl. A girl, I imagine, whose had to overcome a lot."
"What makes you say that?"
"Honey, in case you've forgotten, I came from nothing. I see that pain in her. I know what it's like."
I hadn't forgotten. I knew the story pretty much not because they were those annoying couples who told it over and over again to anyone who'd listen but because I'd pieced it together. Mom was, basically, living on friends' couches and handouts in Santa Monica after high school. Her dad was and asshole and her mom had left her long before she could remember. Mom was a drifter and kind of a hippie. Most definitely a California girl. Bummed around on the beach all the time, bathed in the ocean kind of thing. Dad was out there partying with his rich Prep School friends one summer. Saw her on the beach at a kegger and vowed to marry her. Whisked her back to Florida and made her his wife three months later. Grandpa Gun hated the idea but after meeting mom, couldn't hate it anymore. She got under his skin and into his soul the same way she did to dad. Ended up writing her into his will not long after without her knowledge. Gave her a ton of shit including the summer house in Nice and all of five of the Chagall’s which are hanging in the living room. Gave them to
mom
, meaning if dad and her ever split that stuff was hers. Thinking of this, thinking of my mother with nothing made me feel for her. I'd seen pictures of her from before her and dad met and she was always pretty -my friends called her a MILF, and even as she'd gotten older she retained that beauty. I'd always known it, but after meeting Charley, I could appreciate how truly beautiful she was. I could see what dad saw in her; her goodness, her perseverance. She didn't allow an ugly situation to make her bitter. She appreciated life's little gifts, like a great beach day or a good friend. It pained me thinking about my mother in Charley's shoes. So much that I stayed with her all day. I talked to her, had breakfast with her, read the paper with her, waited while she dolled up then took her to the rose garden and to lunch. We caught a movie and headed home. I opened doors for her; I paid for everything and did my best to make her laugh.
"What is all this, Teddy-mouse?" I knew she was serious when she used that endearment. Once when we were kids she must've been exhausted dealing with two hyperactive boys and she mixed up Teddy bear and Mickey mouse. We all laughed so hard and thought it was so funny that the names stuck. She hardly has occasion to use Mickey-bear, since Mick wasn't really around and she only used it with me when she really wanted me to listen.
"It's nothing, mom."
"I know you're lost right now, sweetie." Then she smoothed a lock of hair behind my ear, something she did when I was young to help me go to sleep. "I'm not saying you have to talk to me, though if you want to, you know where to find me and you know I'll listen." I was trying to retain some of my manhood by not crying, though it did mean a lot that she'd say that. She wasn't finished, "Honey, I think you know this but I'm going to say it anyway, we, your father and I, don't care what you do with your life as long as it's something that makes you happy,"
Shit, Charley was right.
"I know you've been struggling with a lot of weighty decisions. I can see that weight on you and it pains me to see it. You don't have to talk to me about it, but you need to get rid of that weight so you can be free to do what it is that will make you happy." By this time we'd stopped in the garage and I was frozen with my hands on the wheel looking out the windshield.
"I don't care how or with whom you find that happiness, Teddy-mouse but I want that for you as my favorite son." and she gave me a wink.
"Okay mom."
"Okay then. Now let me out of this piece of shit car." she smiled at me then folded out of the passenger seat leaving me in the car. I didn't follow her. I started it up and headed to Charley's house.
*****
Once classes started I knew I'd lose her and I was running out of time, two and a half weeks left to be exact.
After my talk with Charley in my room I knew what I had to do. She'd made me admit my deepest desire and lit a fire in me that I couldn't put out with an MBA. I was going to be a doctor. Not just for me, but for her. I had to prove to her that I wasn't going to waste my life and my opportunities because of a warped sense of responsibility. HCI was a publicly traded company and they didn't need someone like me, who didn't want it, running large portions of it just because I was the founder's grandson. That's not capitalism and democracy, that's nepotism. Let Mickey fight for it I was out.
Charley would be at USF studying God knows what because I was too self-absorbed to ask and I'd lose her. She'd never go back to Paul's house if she could help it. I had to get her to talk to me before I lost her so I flooded her mailbox with letters Yes, the old fashioned, pen to paper, lick the envelope put on a stamp letters. It was the only way to get to her. At first they were short and desperate. Then they got to be long and pleading.
I was pouring out my soul to her, hoping she'd have mercy and come to me. I was sure she was reading them because they didn't come back to me unreturned. (Why it didn't occur to me that she'd just throw them away I don't know) but I was so sure she was reading them that I kept sending them. I'd tell her about my day, what I ate, jokes, tell her how much I loved her and needed her and how sorry I was that I messed things up. Beg her to come to me. When I wasn't writing I was thinking about what I'd say. Quotes, books she'd like, places I'd seen that I wanted to take her but the overall theme was the same. Groveling and begging.
The drug that was Charley had almost worked its way out of my system because I latched onto the ritual of writing to her every day, sometimes twice a day. If I couldn't have her I was going to imagine her, curled up on her little bed in her little room reading my words with her hand wrapped around the pendant I'd given her, hair splayed out around her head on the pillow like a halo, missing me just as much. I know looking back now that it was complete insanity and I was sure if anyone knew I'd be committed. Sure, that if Mickey found he'd call me a fag, Dad would too. Even knowing it was nuts I couldn't stop, there was a catharsis in doing it. My mom was right, I needed to unburden myself of a lot of shit and I needed Charley to know it. I told her big stuff like the truth about when you and I started sleeping together, but more importantly when we stopped. I told her Mickey was only with Michele Nichols because her father, Barron Nichols, was a coal mining tycoon and HCI was trying to garner a deal. I told her small stuff like what I ate for lunch or what song was on the radio. Each one would end with a plea for her to see me and an "I love you" in the closing. I convinced myself that through unburdening all of that onto her she'd come back to me. Each day that passed was one day closer to losing her and, since she had all the power, all I could do was wait. Waiting felt like my insides were being chewed away like a tree with dry rot, but I did it knowing it'd have a definite end. I promised myself that once classes started, I'd stop because she'd be gone and I'd have to give up.
