Come to Me Quietly

My exhale came heavy. “I know that.” She was perfect. I hated the thought of someone fucking with her, too. Especially if it was me.

FIFTEEN

Aleena

Joy reverberated through my being.

Intense, consuming joy. It was the kind of joy fraught with apprehension and stifling doubt. I wasn’t sure Jared came close to understanding what last night had meant to me, how his touch had become my truth.

Never before had I allowed anyone to touch me that way.

Either physically or emotionally.

Megan was right. I just hadn’t been able to fully see it. Every relationship I’d had, one way or another, I’d subconsciously sabotaged. I’d held myself just out of reach, staved off every advance, rejected every wandering hand. Maybe somewhere inside me I’d been saving myself for him because part of me had always believed that one day he would return.

Or maybe it was just that I had been waiting for someone who could possibly make me feel the way he had made me feel. Someone who could fill up the space Jared had left when he was so brutally torn from my life. Someone I cared enough about that it would cover up the sadness I felt for Jared, the ache that seemed to never dissipate. But there had never been anyone like that because it turned out it had been Jared all along. There was no one else who fit.

And it was shocking just how ready I was to give myself to him.

For him to take me.

I’d come so close to losing him again. I’d sensed his intentions the moment I found him sitting alone in my darkened room, and I knew it was all or nothing. And I wanted it all. Kissing him at the party had rocked my foundation. Last night had shattered it. I would never be the same.

Affection expanded in that place deep inside where I’d kept him hidden all these years. I no longer wanted to hide it, even though I knew that was exactly what I had to do. Jared was… volatile… irrational… ashamed. Not of me, but of himself. I knew there wasn’t a chance he could see himself the way I saw him. Would I ever be able to convince him he was wrong? I saw it there, dimming the light in his eyes, the idea that what he felt for me was somehow undeserved, impure, something disgraceful, bred for shame.

He couldn’t even admit what he felt was real. But I could feel it. I felt it in every brush of his hand. I found it in the words he’d once again left for me, words he didn’t have the strength to say. They were written on the same type of worn paper that he had left before.

A still heart quickens as beauty graces the foul.

Last night I’d burned to tell him, to open my mouth and expose it all. To tell him he was the reason I remained untouched because he’d already touched me in a way that bonded him to me. Intuition held me back, warning me that I’d already pushed him just about as far as he could go.

No longer was I that delusional little girl. I couldn’t fix him, and I knew I could never erase his pain. Honestly, I didn’t want to. Trying to would only minimize what he’d suffered. But maybe one day he could let go of some of the guilt. If he could be freed of the blame, he could begin to heal.

I wanted to be a part of that. Even if my only purpose was to give him a flicker of hope.

Work turned out to be just the distraction I needed. The lunch rush had the diner packed with customers, and my hands stayed busy with menial tasks while my mind stayed close to Jared. But I itched to be back in his arms.

Still I found myself driving to my parents’ house after I finished my shift. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but I felt like I needed to get my feet back on solid ground, to be granted a sense of certainty, before I offered myself back up to uncertainty.

I knocked once before I opened the door. “Mom?” I called. There was no answer, and I walked through the silent house. “Dad?”

Out the sliding glass door, I caught a glimpse of them. They were curled up together on one of those two-person loungers by the pool. For a second, I remained still, watching. Wearing bathing suits and sunglasses, they had their faces turned to the blistering summer sky. Dad sat up higher, his arm draped casually around the top of Mom’s head, his fingers mindlessly toying with her hair.

They’d always been natural together. Comfortable. Even when they fought.

I shook my head and slid open the door.

Mom jumped and shot up in the lounger. Her hand went to cover her heart. “Oh my God, Aly, you scared me.”

“I always scare you, Mom.” I laughed as I stepped into the backyard. “You just jumped, like, ten feet in the air.” No surprise there.

Dad chuckled and tugged at her hair. “See? Even Aly knows what a twitchy little thing you are.”

Mom playfully swatted him across the chest. “I’m not jumpy. I’m vigilant. There’s a big difference.”

Dad pushed himself up to a sitting position. He lifted his sunglasses from his eyes and ran his hand over his face, then turned to me. “So, how are you, sweetheart?”

“Good… really good. How have you been?”