Paradise Fought: Abel (2 page)

She crawled to the upper edge, tucking up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She was gently shaking, which wasn’t apparent in the torrential rain that originally surrounded us. I slid the overhead piece to cover us further. We were cocooned in our own little protective space, for a moment. I was cautious as I climbed the empty side of the lounger and laid back. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but I was afraid to leave her alone.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked quietly. The rain pattered on the canvas over us. The waves argued in the ocean. Yet, silence surrounded us as the sounds of nature roared. I waited.

She pushed her hood back and blonde hair cascaded around her face. She wiped briskly at her cheeks, and I risked a glance sideways at her. One arm was crossed behind my head as I continued to wait her out.

“My brother’s dead,” she said. Her tone was cold. I turned abruptly to look at her.

“I’m so sorry.” I paused a beat. “What happened?”

“He was killed.” Her voice was bitter.

“How?”

Her silence told me she didn’t intend to tell me. I continued to stare at her.

“Are you here for the holidays?” I tried again.

Shaking her head, she answered. “My mother. She wanted to get away. She’s…she’s having trouble moving on. She wanted to forget the holidays.”

I nodded my understanding. That’s why we were here. Avoiding and forgetting there was a holiday that most people celebrated.

“My brother took care of us. He took care of everything. My mom doesn’t know what to do without him.” She sighed, rubbing her covered hands up and down her legs. Drops of water still rested on her tan skin, and the gooseflesh rose as she only spread the water around with her wet sweatshirt sleeves.

“
I
don’t know what to do,” she emphasized softly. Her voice was almost a whisper, excessively sad in tone.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I reached out to touch her. It wasn’t like I knew women. I wouldn’t make this move typically, but I took courage in the safety of our little cave. I wiped the rain from the side of her face then pushed her loose hair behind her ear. I might have imagined it, but I thought she leaned into my knuckles as they graced her cheek. Then she stilled. I retracted my fingers. She hadn’t looked at me since we entered our protective grotto. I, in turn, studied her profile: slightly pouty lips, a sharp nose, and those bright blue eyes. She looked so familiar.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked abruptly. Glancing down at my phone, I spoke.

“Ten o’clock.”

“Oh God, I’ve got to go,” she said, pushing herself forward, scooting to the end of the lounger. I sat upward.

“Wait.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“But…” I didn’t know what to ask, what to say.

She stopped as she reached the edge of our cave. Turning to face me, her hands touched the top of the canvas. She stared back at me. Blue eyes again pierced me. My heart rate jacked up. I couldn’t lose her, and then she ran. By the time I’d made it out of our hovel, she was gone.

“Oh, Momma, not again,” I groaned as I nudged her to roll over. Her body was positioned in a way that her head draped over the edge of the bed. Dirty blonde hair curtained the side of the mattress. Her arm hung so her knuckles dragged on the floor. Her upper body was naked. The trashcan next to the bed reeked. My gag reflex kicked in, and I struggled as I choked back my own vomit, triggered from the smell. I hurried to remove the offensive odor by simply throwing the whole can in the bin in the kitchen. Returning to her room, I found my mom had shifted and lay flat on her back. Her head rolled back and forth on the soiled pillow as I questioned once again,
How did my life get like this?

We’d had it all: a nice house outside of Vegas, a car for each of us, and credit cards. Since Montana’s death, we had nothing. He’d been born Joseph Montana, but everyone knew him as The Mountain. He’d been an unstoppable prizefighter. His strength was in the ring, until one fight it wasn’t. Something had happened. My brother was dead. Along with his death, came the loss of all that we’d known. We had to sell the house to cover debts Joey owed. We got rid of one car to conserve our limited funds. I cut up the credit cards when my mother maxed them out. Our trip to Hawaii had been our last hoorah. I hadn’t known then we didn’t have the money for that trip. Joey had paid for it a year in advance, before his death. My mother refused to give up that final luxury.

We now lived in a shit small apartment off campus. It was the best I could do, as I couldn’t leave my mom alone, and I was determined to complete my degree. She had to come with me to Santa Clara, and I had to move out of the dorms. It wasn’t ideal at twenty-one years old. I was supposed to be in the prime of my life. The young live to be twenty-one. But my mother was sucking the life out of me, and I had to take the fun only when I could steal it.

She groaned as her head rolled to the right and pinched her eyebrows over closed eyes.

“So bright,” her voice croaked. She’d been a beautiful woman. She still was in many ways, but the death of Joey aged her. The drinking was making her hard. The boyfriends were getting worse.

She moaned again. We didn’t have curtains and the standard plastic blinds did nothing to block out the bright California sunshine. I had already been up for hours. Despite our circumstances, I wanted to look pretty. My blonde hair was curled, my make-up light. I had freshened up some slowly outdated clothes with accessories. My tan would be distracting to the older print dress I wore with a pair of cowboy boots.

“Momma, I gotta go,” I said, pushing back her wayward hair. Today was the first day of spring semester, and I had to get to campus early. She swiped at the hair herself, while her lips smacked at nothing. She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but I didn’t believe she understood me. Exiting our small place after locking up, I took the yellow VW convertible that remained in my name and headed for campus.

“Can you check the records again? It has to be paid.”

The girl in front of me leaned against the counter. Her sweet voice spoke with a twinge of Southern accent. Her arms crossed over the worn wood, hands clutching her elbows as she tried to keep her voice cheerful. It almost sounded like she was flirting with the clerk, who happened to be an older woman, with glasses on some kind of chain and short gray hair. She didn’t appear to be taken by the voice of this girl.

I was growing impatient. I needed to get to class, but I had to pay the semester bill. For some reason, my dad hadn’t taken care of it, or so the notice stated. Gold card to the rescue: his money advisors would sort it out later. While the clock ticked, my eyes wandered to the girl in front of me. A floral dress flounced over her body but suggested curves. The material draped short over her ass, as she stood on tiptoe in cowboy boots, while she lounged over the counter. Her legs were long and tan. I felt a rise in my jeans and blushed, as if someone had caught me checking her out. I looked left then right to note it was all in my head.

I was rather indistinguishable. Not many people took notice of me, least of all my family. It started with them, and it trickled over to me being slightly introverted. I was content by myself. I tried to stay out of trouble and not draw attention to myself. I was comfortable in my little glass bowl. Alone.

“Next?” The woman behind the counter broke into my thoughts.

“But I’m not done,” the girl squeaked. “There has to be a mistake. Can you check again?”

“Look, sweetie,” the patronizing woman spoke, “I’ve checked three times for you. There’s no deposit for this semester. You aren’t enrolled in any classes. I’m sorry, honey.” Despite the endearments, she didn’t seem apologetic. The girl had one hand in her blonde hair as her elbow rested on the counter. Her body leaned forward as if she was trying to block me out from her view. I was convinced she was embarrassed.

“Ms. Montgomery, I’m sorry,” she said one more time, then addressed me with a wave of her hand. “Next.”

Ms. Montgomery.
Elma
Montgomery? I knew her. She had sat in front of me in freshman English. I’d stared at the back of her head and dreamed of running my hands through those blonde locks, while I imagined her squirming under me. Elma was a walking wet dream for me, and nightly images of her relieved a ton of pent up frustration in my lower region. On the other hand, she had no idea who I was. Assigned to one another in Biology 101 as lab partners, she requested a change. She was sorry later to be paired with the campus heartthrob. According to talk I’d heard; he throbbed her, and then turned out to be too stupid to pass the class. I was the top student in biology that semester.

I should have recognized that hair, but it seemed a little brighter, almost sun bleached. Tan legs should have given away the hint of a holiday vacation.

When I stepped forward, she straightened. Defeated, she collected her bag and turned in my direction. That’s when it hit me. The most piercing blues eyes held me frozen. The eyes that haunted my dreams since December were the same eyes as the girl of my wet dreams. Maybe it had been the red rim of tears. Maybe it had been the hard stare of vulnerability. Maybe it was the setting in Hawaii, but Elma Montgomery had been the girl from the beach. I had second guessed those eyes, but as they looked at me now, my doubts were erased.

She stared back at me only briefly, a look of pain across her face. I held my breath in momentary belief that she would remember me from the Hawaiian beach. Then the moment passed without a trace of recognition.

“Sorry,” she muttered, as she slung her bag higher over her shoulder, although it was already there. Her hand held the large bag in place for a second, and she took a step left to walk around me.

“Wait,” I said, stepping into her space. Her body shuddered to a halt as she looked up at me. Her arm still crossed her body like a shield, as she held the bag on her shoulder.

“I can help,” I blurted.

“What?” Her eyebrows pinched, and she actually looked kind of cute in her confusion. I reached for her upper arm without thinking and pulled her aside.

“What do you need?” I inquired, knowing full well it wasn’t my business, but also knowing I was willing to help her with anything.