The Girl He Loves Page 9

  I couldn’t relate because my family and I have never been close. I always felt like the pebble in their shoe, unwanted, annoying. In their defense, because of my high strung personality, I’m not so easy to live with. My two older sisters, Sacha and Anika, were always so perfect; pretty, smart, popular, and most importantly, not mildly insane. By comparison, I’m sure I was a big let-down to my parents. They never said so, but a girl can sense these things. And when my dad left us, it was further proof of my suspicions.

  When Brian told me that his father had passed, I didn’t quite react properly. I didn’t know how to. Most people know how to comfort others, say the right things, give a good warm hug. Unfortunately, I’ve never been one of those people — I’m awkward and tense in these types of situations. I can’t deal very well with death and illness. And I also had my own stuff to deal with, and I couldn’t turn to Brian for reassurance because he was grieving. So I pulled away, and so did he. I attended the funeral and the wake, dressed in my best black dress, and held his hand, but I had no words.

  Renee was probably the one he turned to. Where was she that summer? She was there, but where? I know I’ve met her before, a long long time ago.

  But where? And when?

  Part III

  Fixation

  13

  When I finally get to Orchard Heights, I’m not even sure how I made it there. I don’t remember the faces on the bus and streets, the litter on the ground, the noises… things I usually can’t help but notice.

  It’s Thursday afternoon, and I haven’t forgotten about my weekly date with Tristan and Trevor. Every Thursday, at four o’clock, we watch Survivor, recorded the night before. It’s something I really look forward to. We suck on lollipops — no popcorn or potato chips because dinner is around the corner. Brian always cooks on Thursday. Tonight, he’s making burgers and oven fries.

  Thankfully, I’m back in time for my date.

  As soon as I get home, Tristan wraps me in a hug, and Trevor gives me a “Hey, Mom.” Brian is all smiles when he kisses the top of my head. I can’t quite look at him. I’ve got my blinders on. I know he cheated on me years ago, and despite the nineteen years we’ve shared since, I can’t help but feel angry and confused.

  Tristan pulls at my arm. “Let’s go.”

  I follow him to the living room, a whisper of a smile on my lips. Despite everything, despite the possibility of Brian and I not being able to pull through this, I know I’ll always have these beautiful boys.

  Tristan grabs the crystal bowl of colorful lollipops from the shelf as Trevor sets up the show to play. “What flavor, guys?”

  “Green apple,” I call out.

  “Cotton candy,” Trevor says.

  When Tristan sets the bowl back on the shelf, he purposely doesn’t quite position it right, and he shoots me an impish grin as he does so. God, he reminds me so much of his father when he does that.

  I cock a brow in his direction. “Fix it,” I plead.

  And he does. He always does. Because he knows that if he doesn’t, I’ll be compelled to get up and do it myself, and then I’ll be cross with him. He’s well aware that his mother is not quite normal.

  We settle on the sofa, cuddled close together under a large throw. I bury my face in Tristan’s soft hair. To think, when I first found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I thought my life was ruined. And now I can’t imagine my life without them.

  Brian and I had been together for almost four years when the inevitable happened. We’d been having sex for about three years, and at first, I was on the pill. I didn’t like the pill. I wasn’t keen on the idea of putting synthetic hormones into my body, and I’d started reading obsessively about them on the Internet. Someone with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder should just stay away from Google, in my opinion — it’s so easy to fall down the rabbit hole and literally drive yourself insane. And that’s exactly what happened. Having read that there was a connection between the pill and synthetic hormones and breast cancer, I convinced myself that the risk was just too high. My aunt, my mother’s sister, had had breast cancer, but thankfully she had fully recovered. My research indicated that having a relative with the cancer on the mother’s side meant that the chances of me getting it were higher. I was already at a higher risk for breast cancer, I certainly couldn’t add to that with birth control pills.

  Yes, it was completely illogical. I know that now. Yet I never did get over the fear.

  I convinced Brian to use condoms, which he wasn’t a fan of, and I was also using the natural cycle method, measuring my temps religiously and jotting all my recordings in a little pink notebook — that part, I loved. My cycle had always been pretty regular so I deemed myself a perfect candidate for this alternative birth control method.

  But it was bound to fail at one point. I wasn’t completely surprised when I found out I was pregnant.

  It was summertime and I had gotten myself a summer job working at a library, stacking books, and sitting at reception in the children’s department. It was perfect for me — very quiet, not too stressful. The worst thing that could happen was a book falling on a kid’s head — this, I could handle. And I loved stacking the books. The only thing that grated my nerves was when kids haphazardly put them back, in the wrong spots and at wrong angles. Some kids would just throw them on the floor or leave them on the tables or chairs, which I didn’t mind at all because it meant I could put them back myself and restore the order.

  I loved my summer job, although I was still eager to start my final year at college the following month. Life was good… Brian and I were happy. Brian and his band did shows on the weekends, and I was always there, cheering them on. He’d sleep late and read the rest of the time. After my shifts, I’d go to his place —he still lived at his mom’s, albeit in the apartment above the three-car garage, and incidentally that’s where his band practiced in the summer (the garage). In the winter, the band had to rent a space because Brian’s mom needed to park her car away from the cold and snow. He’d bitch about it, but it was completely understandable, I pointed out. It was a garage, after all, and his mother owned it. He snickered at that.

  We’d watch reruns of stupid sitcoms and reality TV. We spent a lot of time in bed, making love, save for those few dangerous days. On those days, we’d often just fool around, and he loved to give me oral. I’d reciprocate of course. And occasionally he’d convince me to have sex, with a condom on. I loved the feel of him inside me — it was the closest we could be, and I often longed for that, especially during those dangerous days. I read somewhere that women are horniest on those ovulating days. Makes complete sense — God’s a clever fellow.

  I still remember the afternoon Trevor was conceived. Like it was yesterday. It was a Wednesday and I had a new summer dress on; white with black polkadots. I’d worn it at work and I was eager to show it to Brian.

  It didn’t stay on long once Brian saw it. “I love that dress,” he said. “You look adorable.” He pulled me to him and wasted no time in kissing me. He was wearing wrinkled shorts and a worn Nirvana t-shirt. His hair was a mess, and he had a few days worth of facial hair. He’d never looked sexier. We hadn’t had sex for a while because I had spent the week before at my aunt’s summer cottage — an annual tradition.

  He pulled his mouth from mine, a hand already under the skirt of my dress, between my thighs. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed as he dragged his mouth down my neck. I loved the feel of his thin beard on my skin. I wanted him, and badly.

  I buried my hands in his hair and when he pressed me against the wall, I wrapped a leg around his hips. We kissed again, and he tore himself away to look at me. His green eyes fixed mine and I would have done anything for him in that moment. An impish smile traced his lips as he trailed a finger along the frilly scoop of my neckline, teasing me. He finally bent his head and dropped butterfly kisses on my collarbone, slow and soft. He slipped a finger in and freed my breast. I threw my head back. I was free, exposed, and aching to b
e kissed everywhere. He swirled his tongue around my erect nipple, teasing again.

  I pulled at his shirt, and peeled it over his head. My tongue slithered down his torso, until it reached the band of his shorts. I could tease too.

  By the time we reached the bed, my dress was off, and so were his shorts. I’d worn pretty pink underwear for the occasion, and he had blue boxer briefs on. I straddled him on the bed, and we dry humped and got lost in kisses. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted him inside me.

  But I knew the risks — I’d be keeping my panties on. Our tongues were tangled in each other’s when he unclasped my bra and took my breast in his mouth. I reached inside his boxers and reveled at his hardness in my hand. He moaned at my touch, and reached for my ass. He grabbed it hard, and dug his hands into my panties. He tried to pry them off. I tried to stop him, but he was so lost in the moment, and so was I. “C’mon, baby. You’re so wet. I want to touch your sweet pussy.” At the sound of those words, I lost all resolve, and I let him peel off my panties. As promised, he slid a finger along my sex, pleasuring me.

  But I wanted more.

  And so did he.

  I had freed his erection, and I glided my sex against it. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of him. He moaned, loving every second of it. We were playing with fire, and we both knew it. I slid back and forth against him, our gazes lost in each other’s. And when he sank inside me, I didn’t pull back. I just wanted to enjoy him, even for just a second or two.

  His face was pained when he paused. “Baby, we need to stop.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. I pulled away reluctantly, and reached for the small box of condoms on the bed stand.

  We made love, and little did we know, we also made a life.

  About two weeks later, my period was late. I was a basket case when I realized it. I hurried to the pharmacy close to the library, and bought a home pregnancy test. I’ll never forget peeing on a stick while staring at the painting of a frog reading a book under a tree, in the small washroom in the children’s department. I leaned against the wall for a few minutes, awaiting the results, my legs shaking. My heart sank when I saw the second line slowly appearing right before my eyes. I was devastated, but there was a small part of me that was happy. I had a part of Brian inside me, and something told me it was meant to be.

  I was keeping the baby, no matter what. There was no doubt in my mind. I was meant to have this baby — it was God’s plan. I’ve never been very religious, but I’ve always believed that there’s a higher power. And I’ve always believed in destiny.

  It was a Friday when I found out, and Brian had a gig at a local bar — his band performed there every Friday night. I kissed him good luck before the show, and cheered him on as always, swaying and dancing in the crowd. I chatted with the regulars. I drank my usual cranberry and soda. I wasn’t of age to drink yet.

  We hung out at his place with bandmates and their girlfriends after the gig. I told Brian I wasn’t feeling that well, and was going to pass on my usual two Long Island Iced teas. Instead, I gorged myself with nachos and passed out on the arm chair in the corner, which I had a tendency to do. No one suspected a thing, least of all, Brian.

  I told him the next morning. I made him a strawberry smoothie, and stroked his hair as he tossed and turned in bed, reluctantly waking up. I wasn’t due at the library until ten, and it was early for Brian. “Hey, sweetie. I made you a smoothie.”

  He turned from me. “It’s too early.”

  It was nine-thirty, and I was fully dressed for work. “We need to talk.”

  At those words, he propped himself up on the bed and took the smoothie. “What’s going on?” He studied me carefully, concern tracing his features. He didn’t touch his smoothie.

  I was so scared of his reaction, I was shaking and breathless. I wasn’t sure how he’d react. We were both still in school. He had his band. We still lived at our parents. We couldn’t have a child. We were too young. Would he ask me to have an abortion? I would not. Would this break us?

  “I’m pregnant,” I said, not wasting another second. I’ve never been the ‘beat around the bush’ type.

  He was speechless for the longest time, digesting my words. He was in shock. When he finally spoke, it was a single word, whispered. “Shit.”

  “Shit is right,” I said.

  He was still without words, and I took the opportunity to tell him how it was going to be. It was my body and I was in charge. “I’m keeping it,” I told him. “I’m not sure if you want to keep it too, but if you don’t, I can handle the baby on my own. I won’t ask anything of you.”

  He reached for my hand, and although he was smiling, his eyes were brimming. “I would never ask you to do that. I’m not going to ask you to get rid of it… it’s part of us.”

  Emotion swelled over me. The lump in my throat kept me from speaking.

  “And I would never ask you to raise the baby by yourself,” he went on. “I was there too. I made this mistake as much as you did.”

  He might as well have punched me in the gut. “Mistake?”

  He shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean mistake. You know what I meant.”

  I nodded quietly. He was still holding my hand. We were both crying.

  “I want to be in the baby’s life,” he said. “I’m not sure how we’ll deal, but we’ll find a way.”

  I threw my arms around him and he squeezed me tightly. We were lost in that hug forever… until I had to pull away. I was going to be late for work.

  On the bus to work, my head was whirling with what this all entailed. Would I drop out of school? Would Brian? How would I tell my mom? How would he tell his?

  As soon as I stepped inside the library, I dashed to the washroom and vomited.

  Thankfully, as it turns out, it was not the disaster we initially thought it might be. My mother did not react well. She threw me out of the house, and neither one of my sisters came to my rescue. Anika was in Africa building schools, and Sacha was still living at home, about to undertake her Masters. She was way too preoccupied with her own life to be concerned about mine. One thing’s for sure, everyone in the family was shocked — little uptight goody-goody Mischa was pregnant!

  My relationship with my mom and sisters has been strained ever since. They didn’t support me when it really mattered. Why should they be in my children’s lives now? Brian and his family were all I had. And that still hasn’t changed.

  Fortunately, Brian’s loving mother stepped up, big time. She let the both of us stay in the garage apartment. I finished my last year at college — I was as big as an elephant.

  Brian’s mom was always there to help, and between the three of us, Brian was able to go to teacher’s college and pursue his dream of being a teacher. The band broke up, ironically not because of our situation. Kyle, the lead singer, moved to New York to pursue his music ‘more seriously’.

  I stayed at home, in our small six hundred square feet apartment for a few years, and we both decided that we’d quickly give Trevor a little brother and sister, and then I’d go back to school. Shortly after Tristan was born, Brian got a vasectomy. I would have never pushed the issue, but he quickly agreed to it which I found surprising.

  Brian’s mother, who was a retired teacher turned homemaker, looked after the kids while I furthered my studies, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. I think the boys were better off being raised by their warm and motherly ‘normal’ grandmother anyway. She made muffins and homemade bread, played games with them and taught them a little Italian. She’s always loved those boys. By the time, I went back to college and started working, the boys were both in school. Brian’s mother saved my life.

  I shake my head and focus on the show. The players are all struggling though an immunity challenge, climbing up ropes, sliding into tunnels, releasing a basket of bean bags which they will hit at a target to finally release a puzzle. The first one to complete the puzzle wins. The winner will win the immunity necklac
e and won’t be able to be voted out at the next tribal council — this is always the boys’ favorite part.

  I struggle to focus on the happenings and enjoy my lollipop. This is all I need right now, right here. A fun show, a green apple lollipop and my boys. But unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about Ava and Renee. They dance around in my head, they hop and sway, they sing along to the music, they shake their hips and flip their hair.

  And the music is so, so loud.

  14

  I’m in bed, my body stretched next to Brian’s. I stare up into the darkness. I’m no longer consumed with Ava and Renee. I’m thinking about Joel now, about the way he looked at me when we said our goodbyes, when he asked me if we would see each other at his sister’s studio, if he would see me again. He has such beautiful and kind eyes — they tug at your heart, drawing you in until you’re flush against him, too close for comfort.

  I toss and turn. To my surprise, Brian turns to me — I was sure he was sleeping. “You can’t sleep either,” he says quietly.

  “No,” I say, my voice small. If he only knew the reason I can’t sleep.

  He reaches a warm hand out and strokes the curve of my hip — I’m in nothing but my panties and a sheer sleeping top. “It’s been a while,” he says.

  His touch affects me, just as it always has. Despite all I’ve learned this past week, I still want him. My body still aches for his. I remind myself that I’m not perfect either — I’ve had my secrets too. I reach for his chest and run my fingers down the ridges of his abs, my hand finally exploring his desire for me. He pulls me hard against him, and presses his hot lips to mine. I open my mouth for him, wanting our tongues to do their ceremonial dance before we make love.

  He tugs at the band of my panties, desperate. He wants this as much as I do. I hook a finger in and help him along. He tears his mouth from mine, and travels down the length of my body, trailing kisses, all the while peeling my panties off. He slides his tongue up my sex, just once, teasing. This move always drives me wild, and he knows it.