I Call Him Brady (8 page)

I turned back toward the door, opened it and walked in. Once Brady was inside, all talk of our potential hook up was entirely forgotten as he stood there with his mouth agape staring at my wall. It was covered from floor to
ceiling in a mural of a massive pirate ship sailing out under a clear night sky. I had completed it only a few days ago.

“Did you do this?” he asked, his eyes still wide in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

He took several steps closer and reached out his hand. He never actually touched it, but let his fingers hover over the wall in midair as they traced the outline of the waves all the way over to the dark ship. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, people should see this. Have you done any others?” His eyes searched the remaining walls for any traces of misplaced paint.

“Sure, I’ve probably done a hundred. All on that same wall.” I came to stand beside him.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t comprehend what I was saying. Others had had the same problem in the past. “Are you saying, you paint something as beautiful as this…and then you just paint over it again?”

I teetered back and forth from my heels to my toes. “Yup.”

“But that’s insane! Why would you do that?” Brady wasn’t taking the news well. He was running his hands through his hair repeatedly and shaking his head as though what I had said was just unfathomable.

“Because, I don’t paint for the end result. I paint for the process. It’s like my own version of therapy. Besides, I take pictures of everything before I clear the canvas.”

He sighed. I’d finally made a point he couldn’t argue. “How long have you been doing this?”

“About seventeen years. Our dad died when May and I were only eight. I think we were just too young to fully process it, although May handled it better than I did. I barely spoke for two years after it happened. I was just stuck in my own head, trying to sort out how it had been possible that I had seen my father leave alive and well, only to find out that he was never coming home again.” I paused, wondering if it was too late to back out of telling Brady the whole story. It definitely was. “Then, one day, my mom came into our room. She had this huge cardboard box with her. It was filled with all these different paints and brushes. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. She said to me, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but you have to find some way to let out the darkness so you can make room for the light again.’ Then she handed me a paint brush and said, ‘Paint it out. Put it all on this wall. Maybe if you can see it, you can understand it better.’

“So, that’s what I did. For the next three weeks, every day after school, I ran straight to this room and painted. And after twenty-three days, you know what I saw? I saw hope. I had painted a beautiful meadow with flowers blooming everywhere. Sunshine pouring in from the sky on my ceiling and right there in the middle of it, I had painted two little girls, holding hands.

“All the pain and confusion had somehow transformed as I added color after color until the dark black and brown had become the earth that morphed into the grass which grew the flowers. It was the most extraordinary experience.”

When I turned to face Brady, he was staring at me, glued to every word I had been saying.

“Tell me about this one,” he said, never taking his eyes off me.

“I can’t.” I dropped my gaze to the floor. Something told me, if I didn’t, I’d be telling Brady about every last hurt
inside of me in hopes that he would be the one to heal what time had only hidden.

“Then I’ll tell you what I see when I look at it.” The tone of his voice was raw and oddly shaken. “I see a pain. But not the kind of pain that is felt on the surface. Deep pain. Pain that has seared itself to the very soul which carries it, and in turn has made it beautiful. The depth of this is evident in the darkness of the water, the turbulence in the crash of the waves and the grace of it in the magic of the starlit sky above.”

I stared at the floor with such a force, I hoped it would drown out the magnitude of his words as he continued to expose every last inch of me.

“That’s the pain. The landscape. Then there’s the ship. A pirate ship. The soul of the painting. Of the painter.  Rebellious and brave, risking everything in search of the ever elusive treasure. Happiness. Freedom. Love.”

I felt his hands first brush against my face, then hold it tenderly as he cupped my chin and lifted it toward him.

“I know you probably feel like I’ve barged into your most private place and stripped you bare emotionally,” he stopped to take a deep breath before he went on, “but the truth is, when I first saw this painting, I didn’t see you. I saw myself.”

My heart was pounding out of my chest as I listened to every word so intensely I nearly forgot to breathe.

When he went on, it was barely a whisper. “This whole time, I’ve been trying to figure it out. Trying to understand this connection to you. This inexplicable feeling that I knew you, that you knew me, that you could just get what I was about without even trying…and now, now I finally see why.”

Tears were streaming down my face, but I had barely even noticed. Every last emotion I had denied myself since first meeting him had come crashing to the forefront and I was no longer willing or able to push them back.

I closed my eyes and got lost in the moment as his lips came soaring down on mine, ravaging my mouth and my tongue in an instant. I felt his hands as they slid down my neck and onto my back, pulling me to him with a hunger no man had ever had for me before.

My arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he lifted me off the ground and brought my legs up to his waist. With ease he carried me to the bed and gently laid me down, all the while keeping his mouth locked to mine.

“We can’t,” I whispered when his mouth broke free to explore the contours of my neck.

“I know,” he murmured as his hands traveled along my arms to meet mine for safe keeping. What we’d started would have to wait. It was only a matter of minutes before May would be back with Jessa.

I
t was hard to really believe what was happening. My life had been completely turned upside down in a matter of forty-eight hours. It was impossible to try and wrap my brain around how my heart was feeling, although scared shitless was a pretty domineering factor. Then there was the other thing. The thing that was making me so terrified. I wasn’t about to try and use a word for that yet.

My body was another story. There was no mistaking what it wanted. Embers. Every fiber of my being was screaming for her with an intensity that made all the other woman disappear. No one else would do. It had to be her.

              I found myself touching my lips every two or three seconds as if I could somehow retrace where Brady’s mouth had been just a few short hours ago. The skin on my chin and cheeks felt raw from where his two day stubble had brushed against it during our moment of unbridled passion. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. Unbridled. Passion. I’d actually used those very same words when retelling the heated encounter to May.

             
Halfway through, she had covered her ears and run from the room yelling, “lalala”. Now that she was sprawled out on the couch having a gag-worthy phone conversation with Marshall, it was my turn to take off running. With Jessa tucked in bed for the night, I hurried down the stairs and to Brady’s door. Then I stopped.

             
What was the proper procedure at this point? Did I knock and let myself in? Did I wait for him to come and get the door? I didn’t want to be too forward, but I certainly didn’t want to be too formal either.

             
My problem solved itself a second later when the door flew open with Brady coming out at me.

             
“How long have you been standing here?” A mischievous grin already in place.

             
“Just a minute or two.”

             
He placed both hands firmly on my waist and drew me to him. “Well what the hell have you been waiting for?” Before I could answer, his lips had found mine and my mouth was otherwise occupied.

             
I barely took notice when he backed us into the apartment and closed the door. All of our surroundings melted into one big blur as time stood still for us. Clothes started flying off and by the time we reached the bedroom I was wearing nothing but my tank top and underwear.

             
Nothing would stop me now. I wanted this, needed it, in fact. Then, as May’s pink walls swirled around me, my eyes inadvertently caught on the one thing so out of place it stuck out like a neon “open for business” sign. Which given its content, it essentially was. Brady’s bag.

             
Suddenly, all I could think about were all the condoms he had brought with him on this trip. The vacation he had intended to spend with his then girlfriend, Brit, but was now spending with me instead. A rush of unpleasant thoughts came over me and before I could stop myself I had slammed on the breaks and brought everything to a crashing halt. In an instant the heat-o-meter went from steam to sub-zero.

             
“What’s wrong?” Needless to say, Brady was confused. To make matters more uncomfortable, he looked genuinely concerned that he had done something to upset me.

             
“Nothing.” I turned away. Then with my back to him and the bag housing his stash of condoms, I pointed at the pile of rubbers and said, “It’s that.”

In a fit of dramatics, I covered my eyes with my left hand and came back around to face him. “I realize that this is probably going to sound ridiculous, but I don’t do this with just anybody. And I prefer to feel like the people I do it with don’t do it with just anybody either. Don’t get me wrong. I know that most of you do, but in the moment I prefer to just be naïve to the reality of other women. And right now, the mountain of condoms rising out of your bag is really getting in the way of my ignorance.” I dropped my hand at last. “I mean, really, it’s one thing to be prepared, but who needs to be THAT prepared? Don’t they have drugstores where you were going?”

              I had fully expected Brady to return my meltdown with some sort of attitude. At the very least, I’d primed myself for a bit of guilt headed my way regarding the impending case of blue balls he would likely suffer from. What I had not planned on was the kindness in his eyes. Or his trademark smirk to show up.

             
“Maybe we’re not ready for this.” He took my hand and gently led me out of the room and back into the living room where he gestured for me to take a seat on the sofa. After stealing a blanket from the adjacent love seat, he came and sat beside me.

             
Where a moment ago I had felt my body melting into his, now I was rigidly sitting there with an acute awareness of our close proximity and lack of clothing. Sure, the blanket was a source of warmth, but it did nothing to make me feel less awkward about the fact that my bare thigh was touching his. Nor did I feel comfortable leaning into him in spite of his arm having reached out around my shoulders to hold me close.

             
“Embers,” he broke through the noise in my own head. “What’s going on up there? I know you’re rambling something. You might as well do it out loud.”

             
I sighed loudly, then let loose. “You had a girlfriend two days ago. And I think I conveniently avoided that little detail as long as I could. Only now, I can’t deny it. You were here to see her, to have sex with her…A LOT. How can you possibly switch gears from one to the next so easily? Does it really mean nothing to you?”

             
I felt him tense up beside me for a moment.

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just ask me that.”

              “I’d really rather you didn’t. Because I’m going to need an actual answer.” I shifted into the corner of the couch and leaned back against the arm rest to get a better read on his expression.

             
“An answer to what? Why I was planning on getting laid when I came down here? I don’t know. Probably because I hadn’t seen Brit in six weeks and I was horny as hell! Or do you want me to tell you why I wasn’t more torn up about us breaking things off? That’s fine, too. I didn’t care about our relationship. Sure, I liked her and we had a good thing going, but it wasn’t the type of relationship you have great expectations of when you get into it.”

             
“Is this?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I didn’t really want to know. Except that I was desperate to hear his answer.

             
At last his face softened again. “Yes. Do you really think I’d be here? In this pink-ass apartment, if I didn’t think that what was happening between us was worth something? Trust me, if it was just about getting a girl into bed, I would choose my surroundings to be just slightly less emasculating.”

             
I couldn’t help but smile, although I attempted to hide it by sucking in my lower lip and trying to gnaw it off. “I’m sorry. I’m all fucked up. I probably should have handed you a disclaimer or something the second you kissed me.”

             
He laughed. Then he took my hand and slowly tugged me over until my head was resting on his bare chest with his arms locked securely around me.

             
“It’s okay. I knew you were fucked up even before I kissed you.”

             
“Well that’s comforting…and offensive.”

             
Brady leaned to the side so he could see me better. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to say that you’re a head case, but it’s not okay for me to acknowledge it?” The light danced around in his eyes playfully.

             
“Um, obviously. Jeez Brady, did all those slut-bags you were banging teach you nothing?”

             
He was trying hard not to crack up, but I could feel his chest move up and down beneath me. The whole time, his eyes never strayed from mine. It was like he was studying me, soaking in my mannerisms and expressions, learning how to see the things I wouldn’t show him.

             
The temporary silence took the mood from playful to slightly sullen and the fun in his face had turned to something else, something more intense.

             
“I’m serious, Embers. What will it take?”

             
I pressed my lips together, fighting off despair. I didn’t have the answer. And not coming up with one seemed like a certain way to lose.

             
“I don’t know. I’m scared. I can’t invest everything again and wind up with nothing. If I put my trust in one more person only to find out that I was wrong about them once more, I honestly don’t think my heart could take it.

             
“I’ve always put every last bit of myself out there. Every relationship. All I wanted to do was make the guy happy and so any opportunity I found to do something kind or thoughtful, I did. But do you know, I have never once received flowers from a man unless he was cheating on me? That the only time I ever found myself at the receiving end of a compliment was after I had been beat down by insults as part of some asshole’s attempt at manipulation? But that’s not even the worst of it. No.

             
“Want to know how my ex proposed? Yeah? He didn’t. We became engaged while at his parents’ house one afternoon where he casually mentioned to his mom that we were getting married. That was it! That was the extent of the conversation. We were at the justice of the peace exchanging our vows four weeks later. That was my big moment. The two biggest days of a girl’s life and I got zip.

“And you wanna know what the real kicker was? I thought it was romantic. The whole thing. I remember bursting by the seams as I told May all about how I had heard him utter the words ‘getting married’ to his mother and how lucky I was and how much he must love me to share that moment with his mom! Ugh! And then, of course, who wants to wait and plan a wedding? Not him. He needs to have me as his wife instantly. And not because he’s a possessive control freak but because he adores me so…right.”

              I was sitting upright and throwing my arms up at the ghosts of my past, wild with anger at the injustice of it all.

             
Meanwhile, Brady just listened quietly. When I collapsed back into his arms sobbing, he whispered, “I think you know exactly what it’s going to take.”

             
I lifted my tear streaked face from the warmth of his chest and declared, “It’s going to take a goddam gesture! And it can’t be for selfish reasons. It has to be for me. Just me. Because I am fucking worth it.”

             
“Yes, you are.”

             
He leaned forward and kissed me hard on the lips, reeling me in slowly but fiercely, like he was warning me that I just might get exactly what I’d asked for.