Come to Me Quietly

I’d pushed him too hard. Too fast.

Work passed in a dazed blur. My vision seemed to bleed in and out, and I mumbled as I approached each table, moving through the day in a stupor.

It killed me to think I might not ever see Jared again. That he was gone. Stabbing pain sliced through my middle at the thought. I reached to the wall for support and squeezed my eyes to shut it all out.

Karina lightly touched me on the back, and I turned and opened my eyes to my boss. She was older, and the top of her head only came to my shoulders. Worry creased her kind face. “You don’t look so good today, Miss Aly. Are you feeling okay?”

I shook my head. “I’m kind of sick to my stomach.” It wasn’t a lie.

She glanced around the dining room. The small round bistro tables filling the space were dotted with customers, but it wasn’t extremely busy. It was late evening, and the customers sat along the curved bank of windows that overlooked the street, sipping from coffees or enjoying a sweet dessert. “I think we can manage without you for the rest of the night. Why don’t you go on home and get some rest?”

She patted my shoulder, and I smiled down at her in appreciation. She had always been a great boss. She’d opened the restaurant years before and made it successful with her own hands. She always treated her staff like family. “Thanks, Karina. I think I’ll be past all this tomorrow.”

By past, I meant I’d be either devastated or out of my misery. But whichever I faced, I knew I had to get home.

It was relief that washed over me when I pulled around to the front of our building and saw Jared’s bike sitting at the far end of the lot.

Easing my car into my spot, I sat for a moment to gather my thoughts. When I got out of the car, I crossed the lot, my legs sluggish as I took the stairs up to our apartment. I could feel it, this unease that had accumulated in the air, built up, and bound itself to my heart.

It was confirmed when I opened the door to an even denser sense of tension inside. Jared was here, but instinctively I knew things were not the same. He sat on the couch watching TV by himself, but he barely looked in my direction while I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. I heard Christopher shuffling around in his room. A few seconds later, he came out of his room and rushed down the hall.

“Hey, Jared, you feel like going out tonight?” he asked as he ran his hands through the messy locks of his black hair.

Jared looked up at him with something akin to a grimace. “Nah, man, I had a long day at work today. Think I’m just going to hang out here and relax.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

Christopher grabbed his keys and tucked his wallet in his back pocket. “Did you have a good day at work, Aly?” he asked with a casual smile as he gathered his things. He didn’t seem to notice the well of emotion that had broken between Jared and me, or how our movements had slowed to match the weight in our chests.

“Yeah, it was fine,” I said.

“Cool. Well, I’m going to get out of here. Give me a call if you need me.” Then he shut the door behind him without a second thought.

Jared barely acknowledged me when I said I was going to grab a shower, just obliged me with a small nod as he turned back to the television in the same motion.

I turned the shower as hot as it would go. Steam filled the small room, streams of scalding water assailing my skin. Redness seeped to the surface, and I wished the hot shower could somehow burn the questions from my mind the same way it burned the fatigue from my body. But those questions remained locked tight in the boy sitting out on the couch.

Wrapped in a towel, I unlatched the bathroom door and looked down to the end of the short hall into the darkened living room. Flashes from the TV lit the end of the couch, and I could feel him there just as I knew he could feel me. Yet I sensed no movement, no shift in his presence.

Out of respect, I left him there because I didn’t really know what to say. How could I take back last night? Because it was my heart. He was my heart. I didn’t regret the fact that I’d invited him to open up to me. I only regretted the reaction he’d had to it.

In my room, I dropped my towel to the floor and pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank, then curled up on my side on my bed to stare out the open window. Even though it had waned, the moon still shone bright enough to light up my room. My sketch pad lay on the floor next to my bed, but tonight I didn’t feel like drawing. It had always been my therapy, the way to work out my thoughts, fears, and desires. A way to show my love.

But tonight I clung to those thoughts, let them tumble around in my head while I rested on my side in the soft glow of the moon. With my back to the door, I stared out the window. In the dull light of the city, I could only make out the few brightest stars. Time passed too slow and too fast because I longed for him and was entirely terrified of what hid inside him at the same time. I’d fallen a long time ago, had held tight to the remnants of his memory that he’d left in his wake. It’d been foolish then, but safe, because it was only an illusion. I’d given myself to him when he’d never even had me at all.

Now my bones trembled with reality.

I didn’t know if he would come, and many hours passed before he finally did.

Tonight Jared didn’t knock. I tensed when the door creaked open, listened as it quietly snapped shut behind him. He said nothing as he inched up behind me. I sensed the hesitation in his steps, the heavy breaths he pushed in and out of his lungs.

For a second he just stood there at my side, and I could feel his eyes burning into my body. Then the bed dipped behind me.

I stilled myself as he settled, and his weight spread out over the surface of my bed. Tension radiated and poured out of him, so thick my mouth went dry.

He exhaled toward the ceiling, his arm pressed up against the length of my spine. I could picture him lying there, flat on his back, staring into nothing. Waiting. Waiting for what, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what he wanted. All I knew was I wanted him to want me.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

Slowly, I turned. His arm dug into my ribs as I rolled over it, before I settled into the safety of his side. Tonight I erased the physical space that had always been left between us, but somehow I knew the distance to what I wanted – to what I needed – had never been greater. I buried my nose at the juncture of his shoulder and chest, breathed him in the second he gave in and pulled me into his arms. My hand twisted in the collar of his T-shirt, and the other burrowed beneath his back.

Every nerve in my body fired, my muscles straining as I clung to him, as I did everything I could to bring him closer.

Nothing had ever felt better than being in Jared’s arms.

Nothing.

Under my arm his heart beat fast, and I slowly uncurled my fingers from his shirt and slid my flattened palm down to feel it pound beneath my skin. My stomach flipped and turned, pooled with desire and need and the affection I’d held for him for so very long.

And I wanted to tell him how much he really meant to me, but I knew saying it would only force him further away.

Jared held his breath, then brought his right hand up to settle on top of mine. He pressed my palm harder against his chest, as if he, too, couldn’t stand the thought of letting me go. His voice was raspy, low, and so incredibly sad. “What are we doing, Aly?”

“I don’t know,” I answered with my mouth hidden in the fabric of his shirt. I loved the way he smelled, his shirt thick with the crisp scent of fresh laundry, mixing with the essence that always surrounded him – peppermint and cigarettes. It was the aura of the man that each second sucked my spirit deeper into him.

The fingers on my back found their way into my hair. Gently he tugged, like he’d done so many times before, only this time it was a fistful. “Christopher is right, you know. You were always my favorite.” The words came out in a murmur, his face focused on the ceiling, though his fingers soothed into my scalp.