Remember: A Symbols of Love Novel, page 6
I pull her flush against me, and push my erection into the soft bed of her abdomen. She gasps into my mouth and I pull her lower lip in between my lips and suck on it. My lips travel down her chin and along her jaw. It takes my need for her from burning to blazing.
My hands travel up and under her jacket and my hands cup her breasts. She's fuller than she was, but still fits perfectly in my hand. My thumbs rub her nipples through her blouse and she moans, a sound that starts out sharp and ends on a husky exhalation.
“Red,” I groan her nickname, that was all I ever called her when we were together.
This is a mistake because Milly breaks our kiss and backs out of my embrace almost immediately.
“What’s wrong, Red?” I ask reaching out for her.
She puts both arms out, hands up, as she says, “No. Don’t call me that and don’t touch me!” She looks wild-eyed around the car and it is only then that I notice her bag is on the ground, contents scattered. She bends down and starts gathering her things. I bend down to help her.
“No, stop. Please just stop. I want to get out of this car. Now. I mean it. I want out.” She slaps my hands away when they accidentally brush hers as we both pick up the spilled contents of her bag.
“Milly, tell me what’s going on. Why did you pull away? I thought—”
“You’re crazy,” she snaps. “Do you think that I would really want to kiss you after what you’ve just told me? You basically got me here so you could exact some revenge on me. But now that you know I’m not married, you don’t want revenge? Does that sum up what you’ve told me?” she asks, speaking angrily, but still not looking at me.
“It’s not as simple as that and I didn’t know you had called me,” I return, feeling like a fool and knowing that I’ve screwed up royally.
“But now you know I called you, so you’re totally okay and we should kiss and make up?” she asks. Her voice is as cold as ice.
“Milly, it’s not that simple . . .” I start feeling a prick of guilt rising as I realize how, when laid out the way she has, what I’ve done and said sounds terrible.
“Really? Seems pretty simple to me,” she says her voice losing all of its ice and instead sounding like an erupting volcano. She shouts at me, “You’re not God, Dean. You don’t get to manipulate people’s lives because you’ve been hurt by something. You didn’t have the right to do this to me.” She sounds equal parts irate and wounded.
My stomach drops and my guilt amplifies.
“Milly, I'm sorry,” I start.
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Dean. But let me tell you something and I want you to hear me. If I had the tiniest clue that your mother wasn’t speaking for you that night, wild horses wouldn’t have kept me away. But when that call ended, I felt like I had lost everything. My father disappearing was terrible, my mother retreating into a shell was painful. But knowing that I didn’t have you anymore, that debilitated me. I felt like I had lost everything when I thought I’d lost you, too. So, yes, I got on with my life and tried to carve out a life that I thought I could live with.”
She pauses and I try to interject “Milly . . .”
“No, Dean. You need to listen because if I have anything to say about it, this is the last time you will hear my voice.”
My scalp prickles with apprehension. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.
“I did love you, but I needed to try and find a way to survive. That night after I spoke with your mother, I lost a part of myself. I meant it when I said I was happy to see you. Seeing you again was like getting a lost part of myself back. Almost instantly. But the way you have acted tonight, your cruel manipulation of my life has stolen it again. I’m done being a pawn in people’s games. I’m done letting people take their pound of flesh and leaving me bleeding. You can’t have that.” She straightens her spine and wipes her face. And then she turns to look at me. “I'm not letting you have any more of me. You have no idea what I’ve lived with the last ten years. Do you think you’re the only one who felt abandoned?” Her voice shakes and she clears her throat and continues.
“Tomorrow, I’ll call Cristal and tell her I can’t accept the commission. I wouldn’t work for you if it was the last job on earth.” Her voice drips with disgust. Without another word, Milly opens the now unlocked door, gets out and walks away. Out of my life. And this time, I let her go.
9
* * *
It’s been more than a week since my whole life seemed to have exploded. Again. In one day, I saw Dean, fell in love with him all over again, and then had my heart broken to a million pieces by him. Again. The day after our disastrous run in, I woke up clutching the ring around my neck. I had dreamed of when he gave it to me. It was crystal clear, like it had happened yesterday and not fifteen years ago.
“Milly, wait up!” Dean calls to me as I rush the hall. I hunch my shoulders and walk faster. I’m even more irritated. He must have been waiting for me. I walked the long way to class to avoid him.
I can hear him muscling his way through the crowd and people calling after him, wanting him to stop and talk. I wish he’d just leave me alone. I can feel him approach me from behind and I stop. I need to get this over with and clearly he won’t leave me alone until we talk. He must have been running because he collides into my back.
“Shit. Sorry, Red,” he says as he steps back from me. I turn around to face him, my eyes blazing in anger.
“Dean, what do you want? I am trying to get to study hall,” I snap.
“What do I want?” he asks in exasperation; He looks equally as angry.
“You’re not serious.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
I tip my chin up and set my jaw. “Yes, I am very serious.”
“Milly, you left my game without speaking to me, you haven’t answered your phone all weekend, and you didn’t call me back once. You missed our Monday breakfast. And now you’re asking what I want? What the hell is going on?” He doesn’t say any of this quietly, so people stare at us as they walk by.
I grab his arm and pull him down the hallway, toward the lunchroom which is deserted and quiet.
I turn on him and let him have it.
“Dean, I saw you after the game. With Amanda.” He pales and takes a step back. That only makes me angrier.
“Yes, I saw you. You were all tangled up and you didn’t seem to be bothered with where I was, then.”
“Milly, no. That’s not what . . .” he starts to interrupt, but I am on a roll.
“Of course this happens the day after I told you I wanted to wait for us to have sex. You said you understood, but then you were acting all funny before the game.” I feel tears fill my eyes and I grow even more upset because I don’t want him to see me cry.
“Red, listen to me . . .” he starts again, taking a step toward me. I take a step back, and I feel tears spill down my cheeks.
“I thought Amanda was my friend. I thought you were my boyfriend. But you two were hugging like you were the ones in love.” I end on a sob.
Dean takes advantage of the break in my voice to speak. “Red. Stop and listen, please. Yes, I was hugging Amanda. She hugged me too. And yes, I was on edge before the game. But I was nervous about seeing you later. I bought you something after we talked the day before. And I wanted to surprise you. So, I had Amanda hold on to it for me during the game and she was only giving it back to me and saying how excited she was for you to see it.” He is talking so fast, that it takes my brain a minute to register what he is saying.
“What?” I look up at him, my tears clearing and dread and regret quickly replacing my anger and sorrow.
He is glaring at me when I am finally able to meet his eyes.
“I had a present for you. I can’t believe you thought I’d cheat on you. With one of your best friends. At a game that I knew you were watching. After the conversation we’d had the night before. Is that really what you think of me?” He sounds so hurt.
I groan, feeling like a jerk.
“Dean, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I just . . .” I trail off.
“You just don’t trust me,” he says, his voice flat, devoid of its ire.
I reach out for his arm.
“No, it’s not that Dean. You wouldn’t understand. I’m . . .”
“Help me understand, please. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than you thinking I am a lying, cheating asshole,” he says leaning against the wall of the hallway, looking away from me. I grab his arm to implore him to understand.
“Dean, you’re Mr. Popular. Everyone wants you. And I know half the school is wondering what you’re doing with me. Ms. Nobody,” I say, feeling small and vulnerable. I never wanted him to know I felt this way.
He turns his body to face me, and grabs my chin, forcing my eyes up to his.
“Milly, anyone who’s wondering that doesn’t have eyes. And since when have you cared what people say or think? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. And the smartest and the funniest. And the kindest.” His eyes search mine, the anger in them gone and replaced with tenderness.
“I’ve never told anyone I loved them before you, Red. And I meant it. Do I want us to have sex? Yes, of course I do, I’m seventeen. But I don’t want that more than I want you in my life. So, I meant it when I said we’d wait until you were ready.”
He pulls me into him and hugs me to his chest.
Relief rushes through me and I burrow my nose into his sweater. Smelling that familiar comforting smell of soap, fabric softener and Dean.
“I’m sorry, D,” I mumble into his chest.
He pushes me back away from him. “What was that, I didn’t hear you?” A teasing grin covers his face.
I roll my eyes and smile in self-deprecation. I know I deserve that. I am just so relieved that what I saw wasn’t what I thought and that he’s forgiving me so easily for treating him shabbily over the weekend.
“I’m sorry, D. Very sorry,” I say again, louder this time.
“Buy me a burger at Fuddrucker’s and all will be forgiven.”
I wrap my arm around his waist and steer us back down the hall.
“Deal. You’re a cheap date,” I quip.
He stops us in our tracks. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, peering down at me.
“You’re the best lacrosse player in Houston?” I say, not sure what he’s getting at.
He rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket. “I told you I bought you a present, Red.”
I smile sheepishly. “You still want to give it to me?” I feel bad taking it now.
“Of course.” He pulls out a little piece of tissue paper, like the kind that comes in gift bags, but it’s the size of a quarter and hands it to me.
I smile at him shyly as I unwrap it.
I gasp when I get it open and look up at him. “It’s so beautiful.” It’s a ring, a simple silver wring. Its thin band interrupted by a hollow heart right in the middle.
“Oh, thank you, Dean.” I breath out as I stare at it.
He grabs my hand and says, “It’s a promise. That I’ll always be waiting. That there’s no rush. That my heart is yours.” I look up at him, at this and my tears are back, but this time, they are happy tears.
“I love you,” I say to him with all of the feeling I can muster. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like those words weren’t enough to express how I feel.
“I love you, too,” he says simply. He presses a kiss to my cheek and takes the ring from me and slips it onto the third finger of my right hand. “I promise,” he whispers. And then he starts us back down the hall.
* * *
When I got out of bed after that vivid dream, I was even more determined to put distance between us. I don’t want to start living in the past. Remembering a kind, generous boy who obviously didn’t exist anymore. I emailed Cristal and told her I couldn’t fulfill the contract we’d signed. She hasn’t responded. I’m not sure what it means, but I’m trying not to add that to my list of things to worry about.
I feel completely adrift.
I'm so angry at Dean. How could he do what he did? Just to hurt me? It doesn’t matter he came clean, that he could even come up with such a despicable and cruel plan just to exact some misguided quest for revenge is just unfathomable.
My mother and Rabea are going to Atlantic City tonight for a week of fun. I haven’t told her what happened with Dean. I hardly understand it myself; I can’t even begin to explain it to someone else.
When I get back from dropping Anthony off at school, I find her in her bedroom packing. They are leaving later tonight and you would think they are planning a trip around the world from the size of her suitcase.
I watch her, unnoticed for a few minutes. She has a picture of my dad by her bedside. She doesn’t go anywhere without it. I have heard her talk to it, sometimes angrily, when she thinks she’s alone. I never stay to listen. This is one matter where my mother is a closed book.
She's humming as she packs. For someone whose life was irrevocably changed when my dad left, you wouldn’t know she walks around shouldering feelings of loss, guilt, and pain. She's the strongest person I know. She holds us all together, even at the expense of her own well-being at times.
“Hi, Mom,” I call out from my position against her doorframe. She turns around and her face, beautiful and completely unlined, splits into a huge grin.
“Millicent. Honey, come in. Why are you loitering in the doorway?” She ushers me in with a beckoning motion of her hands.
I walk in and sit down on the edge of her bed. The comforter is a simple white eyelet and the bed’s accent pillows are made of the Kente fabric she got from her last trip to Ghana.
When she came to live with us in November after our last year when our identities were revealed, I had this room done for her. Her coming to stay with us was supposed to be temporary, but we’ve both settled into her being here. Especially since Kevin left. I know she will eventually want to get back to her own house, which is just sitting empty, but for now, it’s a perfect arrangement.
“You ready for your girl’s week?” I ask and she claps her hands in delight.
“Oh, yes. It feels very decadent to do something like this, but I can’t wait,” she says, her eyes dancing as she stops packing and sits down next to me. She grasps my hands; the joy in her expression dims.
“I also hate leaving you when I know something is bothering you. I didn’t want to ask because you seemed so . . .” Her eyes scan the ceiling as she searches for her words. “You seemed so rubbed raw, and I wanted to wait until you came to me.”
Her eyes come back to mine and they are full of understanding. The knot of tension at the base of my throat loosens as I look at her and know I can unburden myself with her—she will help make it better.
So, I tell her about Dean and what happened last week.
“So, I quit. I can’t—no, won’t—work for him. He made me feel so many horrible things at once, Mom.” I finish on a hiccupped sob.
“Oh, Milly. I'm sorry. This must have been a lot for you to process. His mother did that? You never told me.”
“How could I? I wasn’t supposed to use the phone to call anyone we knew. And I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t have anyone to say it to,” I say to her, imploring her to understand.
“I know you felt that way, Milly. I'm sorry I haven’t been there for you more. I can’t believe Dean went to all of this trouble to try and get you back,” she says as she shakes her head in dismay.
“Get me back? He isn’t trying to get my back. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to make me feel guilty for abandoning him. For moving on,” I say tersely.
“Okay, Milly. If that is what you need to believe.” Her tone is coated in pity.
I feel my hackles rise. “Mom, he thought I was married. He just wanted to humiliate me. To punish me for some perceived slight.”
“Trust me. That may be what he told you and may be what he told himself, but no man goes to this much trouble to get close to a woman for revenge. Or whatever that crazy scheme of his was.”
She rolls her eyes as she speaks and her words cause a flutter of what feels, suspiciously, like hope. I smother that feeling. Even hope isn’t audacious enough to attempt to find purchase in this total quagmire.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t bear to look at him. I'm so hurt.” I shake my head and look at my hands.
“Hurt because he thought you betrayed him? Hurt because he still loves you? Why are you hurt?” she asks softly.
I'm incredulous. “I’m hurt because he tried to manipulate me! I’m hurt because he could even think I would willingly abandon him. It took me years to get over that conversation with his mother. I married Kevin because I knew the door to a life with Dean was closed—”
“That was your first mistake,” she interrupts, with the wry remark. “But, I hope you’ve learned from it because life is too short to allow your pride to win,” she says sadly.
“My pride? This has nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with his deceit.”
“Milly, I'm not going to try to talk you into anything. But trust me, love like this, you only get it once in your life. I'm praying you won’t squander this miracle of a second chance you’ve been given.”
Her eyes are soft yet full of grave warning. I'm taken aback by this. I haven’t thought about Dean’s re-appearance in my life as a second chance at anything. At least not anything good.
She continues probing. “But let me ask you this; before you found out Dean had set you up to be hired for this job, did you once feel like you couldn’t do it? Did you ever think it was beyond you?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.” And it’s true. I knew it was a golden opportunity, but I also felt completely prepared to meet the challenge.
“Then why are you walking away from it? You probably never even have to see Dean. You should call that lady and tell her you’ve changed your mind and pray it’s not too late,” she urges, her grip on my hands tightening.
