Breathless (14 page)

“
I love you, Chaseyn. More than you know.”

Chaseyn spread a second blanket on the ground, and we lay together, my head coiled into the crook of his arm, legs curled into his side. The sparkling crystals in the sky soon gave way to the sunrise. Though I wanted the moment to last forever, I knew I had to get home before anyone realized I was gone. Chaseyn gently rolled his body so that it arched lightly over mine, barely touching any part of me. He leaned down and kissed me tenderly, then passionately, before pulling me to my feet. We walked, arms entwined, to the car, stopping frequently to kiss en route.

He drove quickly; the voice on the radio announcing that the time was nearing 7 a.m. I would have to work extra hard to ensure I didn’t wake my mom or grandma on my way inside. Again, he parked on the next street to avoid raising suspicion amongst my nosy neighbors, who would be all too eager to share their observations with my mom.

“
When I’m with you, I can control my destiny,” he said shyly as I prepared to exit the vehicle.

“
I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“
You will one day,” he added. “I promise.”

Confused but intoxicated by the warmth of our incredible experience, I stepped out of the car and walked alone to the house under the guise that I had gone for an early morning stroll. He watched as I walked away, never averting his eyes until he saw that I had safely reached my house.

“
Grandma,” I exclaimed in shock. She was sitting on the couch pretending to read the newspaper.

“
Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “Your mother’s still asleep. She doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“
Nothing happened,” I said, feeling the need to declare my innocence. “We weren’t doing anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

“
Sweetheart, there’s no need to explain. I trust you,” she said.

“
But seriously,” I insisted, feeling a little bit like I was on trial even though I knew she truly wasn’t worried. “We were watching the meteor shower.”

“
He’s quite different from other boys your age, isn’t he,” she asked. I nodded in agreement. She seemed satisfied. “He’s very
mysterious
.”

“
Ugh,” was all I could manage to say.

“
You had better go pretend to be asleep for awhile,” she urged. “Actually, you must be tired. You should try to rest a bit. I’ll cover for you.”

She was right. I was beat, and the thought of laying in my soft bed dreaming about Chaseyn seemed the perfect antidote.

To avoid raising awareness of our earlier escapade, Chaseyn showed up, as usual, moments before lunch. I had just risen from a very contented slumber. He seemed perfectly well rested. My mom was sufficiently deceived by his ruse. My grandma just winked and nudged him in the ribs. He understood and immediately looked shyly down.

Typically, we would spend the day around the house, but I wanted to give my grandma some time to get to know Kevin better without being preoccupied with Chaseyn and I, so we left the house in search of something to do knowing that nothing could live up to our early morning rendez vous.

“
What do you want to do now,” Chaseyn asked as we walked out into the sunlight.

“
Isn’t it time I saw where you live, met your mom,” I asked, only half teasing.

Chaseyn stopped abruptly, pondering the question for a moment. I couldn’t tell if he thought it was preposterous or if he was relieved.

“
I wasn’t sure you would want to meet my mom,” he said.

The words cut to my core. For weeks, Chaseyn and I had spent nearly every waking moment together. Like many other boys my age, I thought maybe he hadn’t told his mom about me, but I cleared that up about three weeks ago when I asked him where he mother thought he was spending all of his time. He assured me that she was well aware of my existence and the important place I had in his heart. Chaseyn and his mother had an unusual relationship. They were very open and honest with one another, sharing all of the most personal and intimate parts of their lives. This made me wonder even more why he hadn’t taken me to meet her yet. She filled such an enormous space in his heart, I wanted to know who I was sharing this role with.

“
Are you kidding me,” I asked incredulously. “Of course I want to meet her. I’m just worried you don’t want me to meet her. Are you embarrassed?”

I had started to continue walking toward the car, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face him. His eyes were intense.

“
Don’t ever think that,” he said sternly. “That’s not it at all.”

“
So what is it?”

“
My mom isn’t like other moms,” he said in a low voice. He had told me plenty about her, and nothing had indicated she was any different than the average woman, other than her incredible musical talent.

“
What do you mean,” I asked curiously.

“
You’ll see,” he said smugly.

Less than ten minutes later, we arrived at his house, a quaint abode nestled in some trees near the river. It was a one-and-a-half storey war-time house that was completely uncharacteristic of the community. The chocolate brown stucco was accented with royal blue eaves, and wooden shutters shielded the windows from rays of light that crept in between the trees.

A cobblestone walk paved the way to the front porch, weaving at least a half acre through thick fir trees and deciduous shrubs that had shed their green fringes in exchange for blankets of shimmering hoarfrost. It was like walking through a winter wonderland—the kind that decorated the face of holiday cards at Christmastime. How ironic, I thought, given that Christmas was only six days away.

“
It’s amazing,” I said to Chaseyn, taking his hand in mine as we walked up the long sidewalk to the front door. “We should have called first to let your mom know I was coming. It’s not really fair to surprise her like this.”

“
She won’t be surprised,” he said, shaking his head once slowly. “She’s been waiting for this.”

Just then, the door opened, and a waiflike woman appeared on the front step. Like Chaseyn, she had raven-colored waves with a solitary grey streak above her brow. Her unnaturally pale skin was soft, flawless, with no hint of color. She was lean and sinewy, the muscles in her exposed upper arms illustrated how she was perfectly toned. I was sure the rest of her body would look the same. Her hair hung free to her waist, and her deep green eyes tore into me with shocking intensity. Her appearance was completely unique, but stunning. Much like her son. She took a light-footed step forward, her arms extended, ready to embrace. I was sure she was reaching for Chaseyn, so it took me completely off guard when she huddled in around me.

“
Cordelia,” she said with a British lilt that was similar to Chaseyn’s, only much more melodic. “It’s about time my son finally brought you to meet me.”

I smiled and nodded. She was enchanting but something about her made me feel uneasy. A sudden chill ripped through my body, and I soon realized she was only wearing a short-sleeved blouse and jeans. Without a coat, she must be freezing.

“
Oh, dear, I forgot how this weather can affect people,” she said. “Let’s get you inside before you catch cold.”

It seemed strange that she would be so concerned about my body temperature when I was cloaked in a massive down jacket that was so thick I could barely move my arms. She seemed unfazed, not a goose bump in sight any place on her frail frame. She escorted me through the large oak door to a cozy sitting room where an old-fashioned log fire was licking the brick mantle encasing it. She motioned for me to take the seat nearest the fire, so I did. Immediately, the aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls wafted into the room. Mina, as she had instructed me to call her, left the room, returning a brief moment later with two, steaming-hot cups of cocoa and warm rolls. Chaseyn and I devoured our homemade treats while Mina delighted in our enjoyment.

“
These are delicious,” I said between bites. “I don’t know how you have the willpower to refrain.”

Mina just smiled and said that once I was her age I would understand how hard it is to keep fit. I had trouble believing she would ever have to worry about her weight. Despite the fact that I knew she was in her late thirties, she didn’t look a day older than 27.

An overstuffed, chocolate-brown, leather couch—the kind with pewter rivets lining the edges, was positioned in front of the tiny bay window. Thick curtains in a rich gold tone blocked out the daylight, and the walls were painted a similar warm shade. An oriental rug in rich reds and greens partially covered the original wood floors, and large wingchairs sat facing the couch, slightly overlapping each side of the fireplace, which was centered on a long wall. A small piano lined the far wall; the only sign of clutter in the otherwise spotless room came in the form of sheet music sprawled on the velvet-covered bench. Though it was cozy, the living room was dimly lit. I struggled to make out the expressions on Mina’s face as she talked.

In typical mom fashion, Mina asked all the right questions about my family, interests, and college prospects. All in all, I thought I provided a suitable answer to everything. She kept the conversation light so that I wouldn’t feel awkward or out of place. Still, among these two unusually attractive people, I felt strangely uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure why. Certainly, Chaseyn had never given me the impression I should feel inadequate, but in the presence of his incredible mother, I seemed unsuitable. I did my best to keep these feelings hidden from them. Mina was wonderfully hospitable, and I didn’t want her to think I was unappreciative. We sat talking for a long time before Mina left Chaseyn and I to tour the house alone.

From the living room, we walked through an arched doorway to an equally shaded kitchen. The only light came from an antique stained-glass lamp standing in the far corner. Rich walnut paneling reached from the floor about mid-way up the walls; the cabinetry matched perfectly. Above that, the walls were painted a deep red. The only natural light in the room seeped in around the edges of the heavy curtains fringing the window above the sink. The kitchen opened into a formal dining room that was perfectly accessorized with unused dinnerware and fresh cut flowers. It was easy to see that this room was rarely, if ever, used. It looked as welcoming as a designer suite in a posh show home. I thought of my own kitchen at home and shuddered. What must Chaseyn think of the unkempt stack of mail and other knickknacks that constantly cluttered the tabletop?

A short walk through a narrow hall brought us to a long stairwell leading to two large rooms on either side with a small closet in the center. In the room on the right, Chaseyn’s mother sat silently in a wooden rocking chair, her head buried in a book, toe tapping on the floor every other second, encouraging the back-and-forth motion of the antique lounger. She looked up quickly, her eyes flickering slightly in the dim glow of the reading light that was positioned several feet from where she was sitting. Her room was elegant and luxurious. The four-post, mahogany bed was draped with a fluffy white quilt and at least fifteen pillows in varying shapes and sizes. Lush, shag carpet spread from one pure-white wall to the next. An enormous chest of drawers was centered on the far wall, with the small sitting area, where Mina sat now, was to the right. An acoustic guitar was tucked in the corner beside her.

“
Will you be heading upstairs,” Mina directed at Chaseyn but never took her eyes from mine.

We had just walked up the stairs to the second floor, so I was thoroughly confused by her question.

He flashed her a grin. Of course, I had no clue to the meaning, but there was certainly something between them in that instant.

“
Chaseyn really cares about you, Cordelia,” she smiled. “Be careful with his heart.”

Chaseyn rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand. He pulled me toward the door on our left, which I could only presume was his room.

It was every bit as spacious as Mina’s, and just as tidy. A full, wrought-iron bed was covered with a chocolate-brown duvet and accented in a variety of blue and brown cushions. I barely smoothed the blankets on my own bed each day, let alone fold perfect hospital corners and primp with decorative accessories.

“
Please tell me your mom makes your bed for you.”

He laughed quietly and shook his head at me coyly.

I wanted to pinch myself. He was too good to be true.

Like the kitchen, walnut panels covered the bottom half of the walls; the top was painted in a pale blue. Rather than artwork, a massive flat screen television hung on the wall directly across from his bed. I hadn’t realized a jazz musician would earn enough to lead such a lavish lifestyle. I had deceived myself into thinking that Chaseyn was accustomed to
my
way of living. There was little else to look at in his immaculate space. Even Addie’s room didn’t seem as plush, and that was saying a lot.