dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (18 page)

“So is this a sample or are you pushing a sale on me?” he asked, eyeing the cupcake as if it were going to eat him and not the other way around.

“It’s on the house,” I said, laughing at him. “But you have to eat it all—right now.”

“Right now—but what if I don’t like it? How can I spit it out if you’re watching me?” he asked as he began to unwrap it.

“You won’t,” I said.

“Oh, you’re that sure I’ll like it?” he asked, taking a bite.

I nodded as I watched him chew the cupcake. He looked through the front window and finished his first bite, and took another without hesitation. He wore a raglan tee with a photo of a wolf on it with sunglasses in black and white. He wore long gray shorts and his shoes were a pair of old, black, dirty, Converse. He must not be planning something fancy and I noticed my breath caught as I took in his dress.

I was thirty-four years old, and I was drooling over a kid.
Age is subjective, not definitive. You are only as old as you feel
.
Several other ridiculous statements ran through my mind as I tried to rationalize and understand this longing he created in me.

I walked alongside him, with the display case between us as he paced back and forth, to the front window, and then returned to the back of the store.

I put my hands in my apron when he stopped walking and finished chewing his last bite. He crumpled the cupcake wrapper up in his hand and I put my hand out to take his garbage.

He handed it to me and I offered him water, though he shook his head to decline it.

He took in a deep breath. “Okay, I admit I didn’t notice the spinach,” he said with a smile.

“Told you,” I said as I smacked my hands atop the display case. “I told you Blake.” I pointed at him and smiled.

He smiled in return and leaned on the case across from me. “You've schooled me in the art of hiding vegetables in sweets.”

“That I have, Blake,” I said with a sigh. “So this date you have planned for us, will I be as impressed by it as you were by my cupcakes?”

“Oh I am very impressed with your cupcakes. But I think you'll be more than impressed, Brecken.” He laughed.

“Okay, well I need to go home and change though. I should’ve had you meet me there. But since you're here, you’ll just have to follow me home,” I said with a grin.

“I would like nothing more,” he said. “Can we take more of those cupcakes?” he asked with a half smile.

__________

We pulled in front of my apartment building, his Jeep right behind my car. I watched him through my rear view as he adjusted things in his vehicle and did a once over to make sure there wasn’t anything he didn’t want me to see and it made me laugh.

I climbed from my car and walked back to his. “You can come up if you want, but I’m just going up there to change. I want you to know I’m not going to make out with you.”

He laughed and gave me his big smile, “Okay, I’ll behave.”

He climbed from his Jeep and I led the way up the stairs of my building. My apartment was on the third floor and we lacked an elevator so the climb was quiet as we kept giving each other shy smiles.

I unlocked my door and flipped on the light. “You can have a seat in the living room if you want,” I said as I waved my hand down the entry hall.

I stepped into my bedroom and looked at my reflection. Despite the long day, I didn’t look too crazed. I began to take my work clothes off and let myself glance at the drawer that held my daughter's letter. I pressed it with my knee to make sure it remained closed. I didn’t want to remember someone I missed like hell but had never met. But I was going to think about her a lot here in the next few minutes if I was going to say what needed to be said.

After I changed, I found Blake in the living room looking through my DVD collection. “You really do like cartoons, don’t you?” he asked as he turned to me, looking shocked, before smiling and letting an expression fill his face I hadn't seen yet. “Yes, I see you do,” he said as he stepped near me and tugged on my retro tee covered in cartoon superheroes. “What’s your favorite out of these?” he asked as he waved his hand toward my DVDs.

“I do love cartoons. And I can't pick just one movie. I love them each for their own reasons.” I paused and lowered my eyes. “I have to tell you something though, Blake,” I said with a sigh.

“I want to get it out there before this develops into anything because I was serious about what I said—I will never keep anything from you.” I chewed my lip, trying not to be so damn anxious for his response. “There is a reason for all the cartoons. I will get into that after I tell you this. I had a baby when I was sixteen, and put her up for adoption. That would make her eighteen and closer in age to you than I am,” I looked away from him for fear of seeing his expression change to one of disgust.

I kept my head turned away as I continued, “I can’t have any other kids. But you’re young and you have friends that are starting out their lives and having kids. I'm not sure where you want this to head with us, but I can’t give you the white picket fence with two point four children. So I wanted to say that because I didn’t want this to move on, and you hope it goes in a certain direction when it never can. I'm older than you, and I'm set in my ways. I will not create an army of minions. Also, I'm too selfish for that—I'll admit it. I'm selfish. But not in the ‘I need expensive things way’, but in the ‘my time is mine’ way. I'm rambling now and I wish you'd say something and not just stare at me because I keep saying things that make me sound like a total bitch,” I said as I started to turn away from him.

He had never let go of my tee shirt the entire time I spoke, and he used it to stop me from stepping away. He pulled me back to him and examined my shirt in quiet contemplation. He released it and traced his hands along my waist and toward my back, letting his fingers dance across me. He bent to my height and kissed the top of my head before resting his chin there. He let out a breath and in one quick movement he lowered his hands and lifted me up by my waist.

I let my legs wrap around him because his silence worried me. He would leave and this one moment would be our last. If it was the last, I would sleep with him before he left. It would be torture, but I couldn’t end it without knowing what it would be like to be with him. But he showed that’s not what he planned as he turned toward my couch and tossed me on it.

I looked up at him in bewilderment. His face was serious before that smile of his formed in its place. “Can I tell
you
something now Brecken?” he asked as he sat next to me on the couch and lifted my legs into his lap. He massaged his hands over my calves and the intimacy of the act as he touched my naked skin made me forget the conversation. It heightened my awareness of him and every touch went through me.

“Yes,” I said just above a whisper, still worried for his reaction to my confession.
Keep touching my legs, please.

He gave my calves a gentle squeeze before turning his eyes to me. “I don’t like kids,” he said with sincerity. “They kind of creep me out—especially babies. So that little confession of yours was a relief to hear. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for Hannah and Wynn, but it's not for me.” I let out a breath before he continued. “Do you know how many girls I’ve dated that talk about babies all the damn time? They see a baby in a stroller and they stop to look at it and smile. It always seems to happen, and then they look at me and give me this expression, as if we should go make one of those tiny humans. I see my future planned out in their eyes and I don't want a future like that. I don't want the typical idea of family and what defines living.”

“You did it again,” I said.

“Did what?” he asked as he began to toy with my shirt and move nearer to me.

I smiled. “You surprised me and I love surprises.” I tapped his nose as I leaned against the back of the couch.

“I’m glad I can surprise you Brecken. But I have more surprises planned for today,” he said pulling me close to him and taking my face in his hands he ran his thumbs across either cheek. He told me last night he thought I was beautiful and I could see the truth in his statement now. 

I just hoped once the newness wore off—if we made it that far— his mind wouldn't change.

“What were you going to say about the cartoons?” he asked as he let go of me.

“Well, I went to the movies every time a new cartoon came out, and I'd imagine the girl growing up and going to the movies right alongside me. I thought to myself,
'she could be in the row behind me and I'd never know.'
So I became obsessed with them. I always loved cartoons before, but after having her it became a deeper love. It was a means for me to connect with her in a way.”

“Damn, that’s sad, Breck. Why did you give her up for adoption?” he asked without judgment.

“I was sixteen. My mom was sixteen when she had me and my brother was young when he had Conall. It was a struggle for my mom to raise us after my dad died. I didn’t want to raise my daughter in those circumstances. I love my mom and I love my life, but I wanted more for her than I could provide. She needed a home and a nice place to live. She didn’t need to be another baby growing up barefoot in diapers on the wrong side of town.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” he asked as he pushed my hair behind my ear.

“I’m just saying I wanted her to have every opportunity she could. It hurt like hell to send her away, but she needed more than me. I’ve never been someone she needs in her life. It scares the shit out of me,” I said in frustration, then pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees. “You know how on those shows where people reconnect with their birth parents? It’s always joyous and tearful upon first meeting, but what happens after that? You know what happens after the cameras stop filming and the credits roll? That is the part that scares me. The messy part—the part where we get into the why of it.”

“I’m going to stop making fun of your cartoons now,” he said with a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry for doing it in the first place.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I appreciate your teasing. You keep me on my toes.” I leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose. He had the most perfect nose.
Nose?

Blake stood from the couch and looked at me and pulling me to my feet he gave me a soft, sincere smile.

“Are we ready?” He asked and started to turn to leave, but as if he remembered something he turned back to me and kissed the top of my head before taking my hand.

__________

He opened the door for me.

He opened both the exit door from my apartment building and the door to his Jeep.

“Do you do that often, Blake?” I asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

“Do what?” he asked, and started the engine.

“Open doors?” I asked, leaning back into the seat.

“No, I didn't want to before,” he said with a shy smile and looked to his mirror before pulling away from the curb. “I never wanted to control myself before either,” he said with a wink that reminded me of his teasing in the lobby of my apartment building.

The writer approached the side of the theater, double checking to make sure no one was around. No one should be around as it was the middle of the night—the last film played hours ago.

A little girl sat upon a swing, looking at a watch as if she were waiting for something. Behind her, motion was painted. It was blurred as if the viewer was moving fast, but all focus was on that little girl. The little girl sat patiently passing the time and waiting for something or someone.

What are you waiting for?

I didn’t care. She had told me her story, and that was it. Now we could move forward and honestly, all I heard after the word “adoption” was, “
Hey Blake, doesn’t this tee shirt fit my chest nicely?”

Then she started talking about not wanting kids and that made me realize again just how well that tee shirt did fit her and how well she fit with me.

I looked at her seated in my Jeep next to me and thought of our exit from her apartment building.

There I was, walking down the stairs with her, looking at her with a ridiculous grin, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop eyeing her little super hero tee shirt, and her jean shorts. They were hot as hell—her shorts. I’m probably the only guy in the world to admit this, but I liked that they weren’t short. But it’s the truth. Plus, they hugged her ass in such a way I found myself wondering what she wore underneath them.

I thought she looked hot in the dress last night, but what she wore today was fucking mesmerizing.

“You’re going to fall on your face if you keep that up,” Brecken had said, keeping her eyes on the stairs.

“Are you meaning figuratively or literally? Because figuratively, you do make me feel like I’m going to fall. You’re so fucking awesome I'm scared I won’t keep up,” I said.

A shy grin formed on her face and she tried not to let my comment affect her. “I meant literally, asshole. These stairs are steep.”

“That’s why I have you to hold on to. I figure if I start to fall, I can just pull you down with me and you can break the impact,” I said with a smile so tight it hurt. I knew full and well there was no way in hell I would let her fall
.
I wanted to protect Brecken McNett from any harm that might cross her path, even if it was me.