“Why—? I was breathless and still clutching at his shirt. He kissed me softly on the lips. All sexual charge was gone. He turned on the ignition.
I climbed back to my side of the car and slumped down in my seat. It was because he didn’t want to go halfway. There was no “messing around” with Caleb. Most guys were happy to cop as many feels as they could get. With Caleb, it was different. You either went all the way, or you stayed in the shallow waters of kissing. He wouldn’t sleaze his way into sex, by pulling me further and further away from my chastity by giving me pieces of what I was missing. I sat back in my seat and contemplated throwing all of my inhibitions to the wind. What were they anyway? I could barely remember when I thought of his hands and the way they knew exactly where to touch.
I wondered what my mother would say. She would be happy that I found a guy like Caleb, but she would still be wary of him. My father had gifted us both with a package of suspicion that sat like a teeth baring watchdog in our minds. “Guard your heart, so it doesn’t get broken like mine,” my mother would say as often as twice a week.
Sheri, my mother’s best friend, brought Oliver Kaspen’s life to an abrupt end one Fourth of July after I turned eleven. She used his own 22 gauge shotgun to do the deed, plastering his grey matter all over her pink flamingo shower curtain. Unbeknownst to my mother, Sheri was one of the many women my father used for sex and money. She reminded me of a watery eyed cocker spaniel with a personality as slimey as a raw egg. Before my mother found out about his affair with Sheri, I knew. On the afternoons that my mom worked late and my father picked me up from school, we would go visit his ‘friends.’ These friends all happened to be women, and either had access to money, drugs or both.
“Don’t you go telling your ma about these little visits you’ve been making over here with your dad,” Sheri said wagging a finger at me. “She’s got enough on her plate as is, and your dad just needs a friend to talk to.”
They talked for hours in Sheri’s bedroom, sometimes with the radio playing oldies and cigarette smoke seeping from the crack under the door. My dad would be real nice to me after he came out of the bedroom. We always stopped for gelato on the way home. I didn’t miss him when he was gone. He was just some guy who walked me home from school and bribed me with ice-cream. At the time of his death, it had been ten months since I’d last seen him, and he hadn’t even called for my birthday. Oliver Kaspen, my namesake, died leaving me with a flurry of bad memories and a deadbolt on my heart that only he had the key to. I had daddy issues that doomed Caleb from the get go.
Chapter Ten
The Present
Sunday morning I wake in my bed, my hair reeking of sweat and cigarettes. I groan, roll over, and vomit into my trashcan. My trashcan? I didn’t remember putting it there. Then I hear the toilet flush.
My God-Caleb!
I collapse against my pillow and put my hand over my eyes.
“Hey there gorgeous,” Caleb walks in carrying a tray and smiling sunshine all over the room. I groan again and hide my face in a pillow. Last night: Alcohol, betrayal by a friend, an embarrassing phone call.
“I am so sorry I called you. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I croak.
“Don’t be,” he says placing the tray on my nightstand. “I feel honored that I was your first choice.” He picks up a glass of water and a little white pill and places them both in my hand. I hang my head in shame and snack on my thumb nail.
“I brought you some toast too—if you’re up to it.” I take one look at the bread and butter and my stomach churns. I shake my head and he quickly removes the tray.
My hero.
“I called the motel this morning,” he says not looking at me. I bolt upright in bed and feel my head spin. “Your friend checked out last night. Apparently, he was in hurry to get out of town,” he leans against the wall and looks at me through his lashes. If I wasn’t so nauseous, I would have smiled at the sight of him in my bedroom.
“Some friend, huh?” I toy with my comforter.
“It wasn’t your fault. Men like that should be castrated.” I nod and sniff my agreement. “But, if he ever comes near you again Olivia, I’m going to kill him.”
I liked that. I liked that a lot.
The ‘Friends’ theme song is playing from my small television when I get out of the shower. I shuffle into the living room in my robe and slippers and stand around like I don’t know where to sit. Caleb scoots over to make room on the couch for me and I curl into the corner. I decide to make some semblance toward being honest.
“I like you Caleb,” I blurt and then I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. “That sounded like a fifth grade confession.”
He looks up from the TV, his gold eyes laughing.
“Do you want to go steady?”
I punch him on the arm.
“I’m not being funny. This is serious. We are not a good idea. You don’t know who you are and I know exactly who I am, which is why you should probably be running for your life.”
“You don’t really want me to do that.” He is being half serious now or at least he isn’t smiling anymore.
“No. But it would be the best thing.” I am ringing my hands in the sleeves of my gown. I feel nervous and sick to my stomach, plus the way he’s looking at me isn’t making things easier.
“You are bouncing me around like a yo-yo here,” he says placing both of his hands on his knees, as if he is getting ready to stand up.