Rumble (18 page)

I’ll finish too soon. She won’t let me.

We tarry. Accelerate. Move into slow

motion, lights on, eyes open, and for

the first time, I experience a woman’s

ascension and ultimate, ecstatic release,

punctuated by a heart-shattering,

I love you! Oh God, Matt, I love you.

Heart Shattering

Because as she brings me all the way

there I can’t echo her exclamation.

Afterward, we lie knotted together,

neither of us wanting to move, and

both a little afraid of what the other

might say. But eventually one of us

has to rile the silence, and this is

heavily on my mind. “I’m not sure

Hayden and I can make it. But I don’t

know how to stop loving her, and even

if we do break up, I’m afraid a ghost

of that love will haunt me forever.”

Is that such a bad thing?
Her fingers

work through my hair, brush my scalp,

and it just feels so good.
I mean, love

is energy, right? So it doesn’t die.

It just changes forms. Evolves,

I imagine, then burrows into memory.

Real love, anyway. I think it’s easy

to confuse love with other things.

Lust, for one. Need, for another.

Am I Confused?

No. I love Hayden. But then,

why am I here? Can you love

one girl with all you are, from

the depths of your soul,

but still share this kind

of intimacy with another?

My feelings for Hayden

didn’t start with lust. Desire,

yes, but not just for her body.

I fell for her spirit—her humor.

Her innocence. Her loyalty.

Need? Well, that is a much

more difficult call. And

this is not the time to make

it. I kiss Alexa softly. “Who

knew you were a philosopher?

Who knew I liked intelligent

women?” We kiss again, but

I stop long enough to ask,

“Do you think lust can evolve

into something deeper?”

God, I hope so.

An hour later, I almost do, too.

I Am Pulled from Sleep

Into darkness, disoriented from

dreams, and by the steady breathing

beside me in the bed I share with

no one. I inhale the scent of woman.

Alexa. Snoozing beneath my quilt.

I nudge her. “Hey. We fell asleep.”

She chuffs like wind through leafy

boughs.
I know. I turned off the light.

“I should take you home. Your mom . . .”

She backs up into the curl of my body.

It’s okay. I told her I was staying

at Lainie’s. I’m prepared like that.

Maybe so, but I was definitely

not prepared for anything like this.

What about my dad? What about

Hayden? Wasn’t I supposed to call?

If she texted me and I didn’t respond,

I’ll catch hell when I talk to her. And

what if she somehow finds out

about this? Alexa wouldn’t bust me,

would she? But now I remember

what we shared last night, and the slip

of her hot silk against my skin brings

me full-on erect in three seconds flat.

She is, indeed, a siren. “What are

you doing to me?” I’m helpless

here in the dark. At least, until

morning. At least until I can

consider just what the fuck

I’ve done. To Hayden. To Alexa.

Most of all, to me.

Uncharacteristically

I wake early, without an alarm.

Must have something to do

with the movements and sounds

of the girl sleeping next to me.

I lie very still watching her tread

her dreams, wonder if I’m sharing

those with her, too, as well as my bed.

Was this how Dad felt waking up

next to Mom that first time—

awash in guilt, yet fulfilled in

a whole new way, and wondering

if he could ever find such overwhelming

satisfaction with the girl he loved?

Something I never before thought

about—were he and his Lorelei

having problems, issues impossible

to wade through? Was their relationship

doomed before Mom managed to

obliterate it? Or would it somehow

have survived, if not for a baby. . . .

Wait. Baby? Shit! We never . . .

I never. Oh man. I was drunk.

We were drunk, and she never said

a word. She should have, right? What if . . . ?

Alexa’s eyes quiver open, find

me, and she smiles.
Morning.

But then they must really focus

because she adds,
What’s wrong?

You look kind of freaked out. Did

you forget I was here or something?

“Nothing. It’s just, I started

thinking we . . . didn’t . . . uh, use

protection.” I bolt upright into

a sitting position, heart racing,

all panicky. Alexa reaches out,

strokes my chest.
Hey. No worries.

I told you I come prepared. I’ve been

on the pill for two years, mostly to

regulate my periods. I wouldn’t have

made love to you otherwise. I mean,

you’re really attractive and everything,

but I don’t want you to father my babies.

I smile. “Believe me, no one wants

me to father their babies. Insanity

runs in my family.” I kiss her forehead.

“Dad’s probably sleeping. Let’s sneak

into the bathroom for a shower. I’ll

wash your back if you wash mine.”

It’s the Best Shower

I’ve ever participated in,

and it’s definitely all about

the participation. We wash

each other’s everything,

which leads to the need

for even more washing.

We towel off, bodies steaming

into the cool morning air.

“Just so you know, this is by

far the most sex I’ve ever had

in any one twelve-hour period.”

She laughs.
Ditto.
A short pause

for effect.
Well, there was that

one time . . .
Another pause to

assess my reaction.
Hey, I was joking.

“I knew that. Come here.”

I dry long drips on her back,

lift her damp hair to kiss her neck.

For a few seconds, I didn’t know

she was joking. And what’s really

disturbing about that is how much

I cared.

Dad’s Still Asleep

When I take Alexa home, but by the time

I get back, he’s up, drinking coffee, and

it’s weird, but I think he’s waiting for me.

Had company last night, did you?

Oh man. Did he, like,
hear
us? My face

flares. “Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

She left her jacket on the couch.

It wasn’t Hayden, I take it. Can’t see

that girl wearing black leather.

Not to mention spending the night

in my bed, doing unmentionable

things to me. I’m so busted. “No.”

Have some coffee.
He watches me pour

a cup.
I wouldn’t recommend overnight

guests with your mother present.

No kidding. “I didn’t plan for her

to stay over. It just kind of happened.

We were only supposed to talk.”

He out-and-out guffaws, and I realize

how lame that sounded.
How cliché.

Absolutely, and yet his easy dismissal

pisses me off. “I don’t guess that’s what

you thought when Mom came knocking?”

He looks surprised that I’d mention it

but decides to cowboy up.
We both

knew exactly why she was there, son.

“But you let her in anyway, despite

being in love with someone else.”

I don’t shade the statement with opinion.

Now he assesses me, as he might

a complete stranger.
That’s right, I did,

and it’s something I’ve long regretted.

Regret. This house is a sponge,

absorbing regret until it can hold

no more and disillusionment drips

through the bloated pores. If Dad

could do it all over, he wouldn’t cheat

on his girlfriend with Mom. Wouldn’t

get her pregnant, no need for a quickie

wedding. And of course there would

be no me. I think maybe I resent that.

Dad and I Rarely Talk

Let alone openly communicate,

but what the hell? Is one time

in eighteen years too much?

“Were you and Lorelei

having problems? I mean,

if you don’t mind telling me.”

He thinks it over.
I guess

maybe we were—the pressure

of maintaining grades while

excelling at sports is never

easy. Figure in nurturing

a relationship when what

you really want to do on your

off hours is party, well . . . But

it was nothing we couldn’t have

worked through, and she might

have forgiven me, except for . . .

“Except for me.”

Unbelievably, he agrees,

Except for you.

We Both Sip Our Coffee

Slurping into the silent gauze

between us. Someone has to rip

through it. “But you stayed with

Mom all this time. Did you ever

love her? Just a little, even?”

Love is a funny thing. Sometimes

it barrels into you like an angry

bull. Other times it infiltrates you

like an alien vine, and no matter

how hard you resist, it grabs hold

and squeezes. That’s kind of what

happened with your mom and me.

Believe it or not, we’ve shared many

happy days, and that includes having

you and Luke. Eventually, it becomes

a matter of scale. When the good

outweighs the bad, you stay. When

the bad is the only thing you notice

anymore, you think about your future,

or what’s left of it, consider options.

Makes Sense

But it seems to me

it’s better to consider

options before you shrivel

into a bitter, old slice of regret.

“You don’t know it would

have been better if you’d stayed

with Lorelei, though.”

True. I don’t.

Honesty. How refreshing.

“Mom thinks you’re going

to leave her. Are you?”

I’m not sure.

Honesty. How unnerving.

“You know Lorelei and

her husband are divorced.”

It isn’t a secret.

Kind of evasive. “Are you

thinking about getting

back together with her?”

He Doesn’t Respond Immediately

Just sits, staring out the window,

and after so much unusual

forthrightness, I have to wonder.

“Are you already back together?”

I guess he figures he has nothing

to lose when he finally confesses,

We’ve been seeing each other

for a long time, Matt. See, the thing

about the barreling-into-you kind

of love is, it leaves deep, wide scars.

I tried, but I never stopped loving her.

My turn to focus on the world

beyond the kitchen glass, where

the sun has decided to appear,

its thin rays of winter light magnified

by water droplets on every branch,

every blade, every needle. Stunning.

A lump balloons in my throat.

“Why did you stay? All you did was

make Mom miserable, make me feel

like a failure, give Luke another reason to—”