Not Looking For Love: Episode 2 Read online

  I rise, my legs all pins and needles. He's wearing a zipped up black windbreaker, which makes him look menacing and strong, like a bouncer. He stops when he sees me and looks up from under his black cap, so I can't really see his eyes.

  "What are you doing here, Gail?" he asks. There's no surprise in his voice, like he'd been expecting me, and my chest floods with warmth at the thought. I don't fight it this time; it's what I came here for.

  "I just couldn't stay away. But I'm not here to talk," I say and smile, hoping it will transfer to his face.

  He looks away and climbs up the rest of the stairs, brushing past me on the way to unlock the door. I follow close behind, noticing another thick envelope sticking out of his back pocket.

  He doesn't hold the door for me, or look back to see if I followed him. I finally catch up to him in the kitchen, just as he's reaching into the fridge for a beer.

  "Aren't you going to take off your jacket?" I ask and run my hand down his back where the muscles strain against the nylon fabric.

  He straightens up, slamming the fridge door and sending a magnet bouncing to the ground.

  His eyes are black, the air between us charged with such anger and hunger I feel tingles all over my body.

  "Why don't you show me just how mad you are at me?" I purr, still smiling, unsure where the words are coming from. Certainly not my brain.

  "You should leave, Gail," he says instead. "I'm not in a good mood today."

  It sounds like a warning, but I only hear invitation. I've clearly left my brain back in my own dark bedroom.

  He tries to walk past me out of the kitchen, but I don't let him. I stand in his way and lock my arms tightly behind his back, pressing into him. He tries to pry my arms away, but I'm holding on too hard. Leaning my head back I find his lips and run my tongue over them.

  He yanks my arms apart and pushes me away. "I can't deal with your shit today, Gail. I have enough of my own."

  He stalks out of the kitchen and sits on one of the chairs, tossing the envelope on the table with such force it topples off the edge and money spills out; a couple of thousand at a guess. I should turn around and walk out right now. Instead I hear myself say, "It's sex, Scott. Wouldn't sex make you feel better?"

  He's on his feet and towering over me before I have a chance to blink. His eyes are dark green now, and remind me of the grave from my dream.

  "Sex, Gail? That's what you came here for? Sure, I can fuck you." He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bed.

  Stopping at the side of the bed, he unzips his jacket and unbuckles his belt. I'm still reeling, stuck between desire and flight.

  "I'm in the mood for a blow job first, though," he says and pushes down on my shoulders. I'm on my knees before I have time to react, his erection pressing into my chin.

  "Open," he instructs. His cock slides over my lips and I lick the head, warmth pooling between my legs. I'd expected him to kiss me first and lick my neck, but this works better. At least there's no romance involved. I open my mouth and let him enter me, my teeth grazing against the soft, hard flesh.

  "No teeth," he grunts, and grabs the sides of my face, making me look up at him. "And if you bite, you'll be the one needing the hospital."

  The sharp stab of his words makes me gasp. He pushes his cock in farther as I do, making me gag.

  "Oh come on, Gail, you can do better than that," he snorts harshly. He doesn't sound like himself, it's like we're in separate rooms. Yet the rest of the world is still safely outside this building, even if we're not sharing it. My panties are wet, the seam of my skinny jeans pressing into me in just the right place. He pulls out a little and pushes back in, again hitting the wall in my throat.

  "Let me help you," he says, and for a moment, his voice is soft like he cares. Then he grabs my nose and clamps my nostrils shut. I retch and swallow, his cock filling my throat.

  I beat at his hand to make him release my nose and he yields, pulling his cock out too. I retch again and tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I'm not crying. Anger is crackling through me like the Fourth of July. All I want to do is make him pay for this humiliation.

  I shoot to my feet and slap him. For a split second I'm certain he'll hit me back, then he tosses off his hat and pulls me towards him, our lips colliding in his hungry kiss, which is all velvety soft and gentle despite its urgency. Not what I want.

  I bite down hard on his lip, tasting blood. His shocked look bores into me. It's immediately followed by a sharp tug as he rips my pants down, the button of my jeans tinkling across the ground. He flips me around and tosses me, face first, onto the bed. I bounce on the air mattress. But he's already straddling me, pulling my jeans and panties all the way down. He rams his cock in and I scream.

  His thrusts feel like stabs from a hot iron sword, urgent and vicious. But I'm wet enough and the blinding heat builds and builds.

  "Just tell me when any of this starts to hurt, Gail," he grunts on top of me. I bite down on the comforter, but not in pain. The heat from his thrusts is building, forming a burning, searing tornado. Each thrust pushes me into the mattress, but I bounce right back, moaning, grunting through clenched teeth, because I don't want it to stop. The snaking tornado heat erupts into a million, billion sharp pieces just as he shoots inside me.

  He pulls out and the icy cold is terrible.

  "Now you got what you wanted, so leave," he says.

  I turn on my side, and blink at him.

  He yanks me up to my feet and I stumble forward, getting tangled up in my jeans. I reach down to pull up my pants, but my hands are shaking and I can't get a good grip.

  "Hurry up."

  Tears are balling up in my throat. His voice is so cold and so distant, and I'm afraid to look into his eyes, because I don't want to see my mom's grave there again.

  "Are you deaf? Hurry up and get the hell out."

  I finally manage to get my pants up, but the button is missing and I can't close them. He pushes my jacket and purse into my arms, then grabs me and leads me out of the apartment, slamming the door shut.

  The overhead light is flickering, and a cat screams somewhere above me, sounding like a baby crying. Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm shaking so hard I bite my tongue, pain exploding in my mind. The hall light pops then goes out with a hiss.

  New light comes on as Scott opens the door. "God, I'm sorry, Gail."

  I whimper and run down the dark stairs, clutching the banister hard so I don't fall, just as I should have done earlier. I never should have come here.

  Scott catches me right before I reach the front door. "Stop, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to treat you like that."

  I twist my arm out of his grasp and sprint down the alleyway and to my car, digging for my keys. I lock the doors as soon as I'm inside. The windows are misting from my hard breathing and I can't see very well through the tears, but I turn the ignition and floor it anyway. Scott was just a huge mistake, and I'm an insane mess, but he still didn't need to treat me like a complete slut.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Back home, I tiptoe up the stairs, listening hard for my mom's breathing, having to know she's still alive. I turn on the shower as hot as I can stand it, and slide down to sit on the floor, letting the water beat against my back. Steam rises, fills the bathroom, clogging up my lungs with moisture.

  The heat adds to the anger still boiling inside my chest, breeds off it and expands. My heart is racing furiously, pressure rising in my head. I can't believe Scott would treat me that way, can't believe I expected anything else. He's just a dumb manual worker type, and I can't believe I let myself be stupid enough to pursue him. I knew it all along, and I should've stayed away.

  His soft gaze and caring words promised so much more than he could ever deliver. I was insane, crazy; probably saw only what I wanted to see. Then my messed up mind made it real. Only it was never real, never could be; just a figment of my imagination, a stupid fantasy that could never be in real life.

  My skin i
s red and raw once I finally turn off the shower. The cold in my room feels like I've just walked out into a blizzard naked, or wearing only a negligee under a thin trench coat, because that's the kind of idiot I am.

  I put on my flannel pajamas and pull the covers up all the way to my chin. But I'm wide awake, Scott's harsh tone still echoing in my ears. As he forced his cock down my throat, fucked me like I was a whore, the kicked me out like I'm just a piece of trash.

  Sobs of frustration overtake me, and I ball my hands into fists, slamming them against the mattress. I won't cry. Not over that piece of shit.

  And then it hits me, the realization more painful than a bolt of lightning. I'd already fallen for him, did the one thing that I didn't want. Stupid Gail, too dumb to separate feelings from just sex. And she ended up abused and hurt, worse than anyone deserves to be.

  I hadn't heard any gasps or coughs coming from my mom's room since I lay down. Bolting out of bed, I'm beside her clutching her hand in what feels like a second. Dad is snoring softly beside her, and their arms are entwined, but barely touching. My stomach twists like I might break apart, bleed out on the carpet. This, this is what I never want. I will never lose anyone else but them.

  The grandfather clock chiming ten wakes me the next morning. I'm seeing the world as though through thick gauze, nothing touches me and I feel less. Something broke inside of me last night and I can't find the pieces to mend it back together.

  The doorbell rings and I cover myself up again, letting someone else get it. Or not. I don't want to see anyone.

  A few moments later I hear Edna walking up the stairs. She peeks in through the open door of my bedroom. "Gail, are you awake? There's a Scott here to see you."

  I can't believe he would come here.

  "I don't want to see him," I say. Never, ever again.

  "I'll tell him. But this is the second time he's come today," Edna says, smiling at me. "I don't think he'll just give up."

  "He will."

  "OK, Gail. Why don't you get up and go see your mom now. She's awake," Edna says. "I'll bring you some tea on the way up."

  "Thank you, but coffee would be better," I say, and stumble out of bed. My hair is still damp, and my tank is wet from it, but I don't bother to change. My mom might not be awake for very long, and every minute counts.

  "Gail," Mom says as I enter, stretching an arm out and pointing to the window. "Would you mind opening it? I feel like some fresh air."

  Outside I see Scott walking back toward Kate's. He notices me, and waves, but I turn away sharply and step away from the window.

  "How do you feel today, Mom?" I ask. Her face and her lips are blue, and her hand shakes as she holds it out towards me.

  "About the same," she answers, but I can hear the lie. The clear autumn air mixes with the feeling of deep longing and homesickness coursing through me, ripping me to shreds.

  I'm beside her, crying into her hand, feeling like I've flown to her side, not walked. She's stroking my hair with her free hand, but I barely feel her touch.

  "Gail, honey, remember when Grandpa died," Mom asks, and a sob catches in my throat. "You were so sad you wouldn't stop crying for days. I was too. But then it passed and it's alright now. That's just how I think it will be when I die. The pain will pass in time."

  My mom's voice hitches and she sobs loudly. It turns into a vicious cough in an instant, made worse by the tears running down her face.

  I straighten up and wipe her tears away with my fingers, even managing a small smile as I wait for the coughing to subside. She's trying to make me feel better and I should let her, I must let her. The pain squeezing my chest is so strong it's making me numb. It's as though I'm not even in the room.

  "Don't worry about me, Mom," I hear myself saying. "I will be just fine. I promise."

  I hope she can't hear the lie, because the dark, bottomless abyss is all around me, and soon it will be all there is.

  She nods at me and smiles, then lies back. I nestle in beside her, my forehead against her arm. Edna comes in with my coffee a few minutes later, but I feign sleep and she just sets it on the nightstand and leaves.

  I don't remember falling asleep, but the clock on the nightstand reads 4:06 PM so I must have. The doorbell startles me. I close my eyes, hoping Edna won't bother getting the door.

  "It's Scott again," Edna whispers into my ear.

  "Tell him to stop coming," I say.

  "Maybe you should go yourself," she suggests.

  "Please, Edna." I don't want to see Scott ever again. He was just a mistake and I feel so much worse now for having made it.

  Edna sighs and leaves. She returns a few minutes later, telling me she must change my mom's sheets and give her the medicine.

  I take another hot shower while I wait for her to finish. I come out to find Kate's text saying she's with Mark in the city, but we should do something Saturday. I text back, OK, though I have no intention of going out this weekend.

  Dad's lying down next to Mom when I peek back into her room, holding her hand, his eyes closed. I slip the door shut before he notices me standing there. The sun is shining outside, but I hear thunder in the distance. Longing and homesickness follow me down the stairs and into the kitchen, congealing into a menacing, black presence breathing down my neck. I run to my car to escape it all, go lose myself in the rushing waves and cascading sands of the beach, my last remaining refuge.

  I drive down to the beach near my house, not the one where I ran into Scott on the pier. Despite the sun shining, it is chilly, and the only people at the beach are a group of teenagers, and an old lady with her straw hat tied to her head by a white silk scarf. She reminds me of Gran, which sends a new stab of pain through my heart. I should go see her soon, but the thought of sharing grief with her is unbearable right now, so I let it go.

  The sand is damp, and my flats are leaving little crosses in it as I walk along, right where the surf licks the beach. I move closer to the water, looking back to see the waves wipe away my prints. My mom will be gone soon, just like this, leaving no trace. Then one day I will be gone too, leaving just as little behind. Yet this beach will still be here. And another Gail, her mom dying too, might walk this same path then. I don't wish her to have to, but it can happen regardless, just as it happened to my mom and me.

  "Gail," Scott calls me.

  He's running toward me, but I whip around and run too, away from him.

  "Wait."

  "No!" I yell back over my shoulder.

  But he's faster and catches me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Like he's tackling me, soft like we're just playing. I punch down hard on his forearm, my knuckles cracking painfully. His smell bores into me, dampening my urge to flee. But that can't happen. "Let me go."

  "Can we talk, Gail?" He's still holding me, but not very tightly, and I could break away and run. But what for? I should finish what I started or it will never be over. Maybe I even owe him a little.

  I twist from his arms. "Did you follow me here?"

  His eyes are a gleaming blue today, like the ocean in summertime, a gentle breeze pushing the sailboats along toward the horizon.

  "Yes, I did," he says. His lip is slightly swollen around a nasty black scab. I'm sorry I bit him that hard, but it's a fleeting feeling.

  "There isn't much to say, Scott, now is there?"

  He looks directly into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze making me tingle as though lightning just struck right next to me. "I never should have treated you like that, Gail. I'm so sorry."

  "No you shouldn't have," I snap. "But you did and it happened. You can't just take it back."

  I don't know where my anger is coming from, I was sure I shut that lid down tight. Shivers pass through me, but they're on the inside, my hands and my voice are completely steady.

  He drops his head and runs his hand over his hair, looking upwards at me. "You just came at the wrong moment, and I…I don't know what happened. But it won't ever happen again."

  There'
s such conviction in his voice, I believe him. "I'm sure that's what every battered woman believes, at least in the beginning."

  Shock makes his eyes wide, and his cheek twitches a little. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Not really?"

  It didn't hurt. It was wild and rough and everything I wanted from him, back in the beginning. But not last night. The realization feels like a slap. I can't keep talking to him. I'm just dumb and mental enough to accept his apology.

  "Don't worry about it, Scott. I'm fine and I'll get over it." What hurt the most was the way he kicked me out. But that's gone too now, just a memory, not something that touches me.

  "Will you? 'Cause I don't know if I will," he says, searching my face, his eyes expectant like a child's.

  "That's not really my problem," I say harshly, wanting to end this pointless, dangerous conversation.

  "I want to get to know you better, Gail."

  "Look, Scott," I say, steel in my voice now, coming from the thought of laying beside the love of my life, waiting for them to die, nothing I can do to stop it. "We were both right to push each other away. We just weren't right about it on the same day."

  He rubs the back of his neck and looks past me toward the sea. "You think so? I think maybe we were both wrong."

  He turns back to me, his eyes pleading. It has to stop. Now. "I had no intention of ever getting to know you, Scott. I thought I was clear on that. Now stop following me and stop coming to my house. Whatever it was, it's over."

  "If you're sure, Gail." His eyes are frozen now, like looking at a glacier. There's no anger there, no sadness, nothing of anything. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks away. And I fight it, but a part of me wants to run after him and start this conversation again, end it differently. But that part of me is the weak, crazy Gail. This Gail is strong and feels nothing at all.