We avoided the big stuff, babies, weddings, and especially, especially Maddox.
“Do you remember the first time you came to one of these,” Falcon asked, whispering to me.
“Yeah, I was humiliated beyond belief and you bought me ice-cream”
“You wanted me so bad after that.” He laughed trying not to alert the rest of the table.
“I just thought I wanted you back then. I want you so bad now, I could climb the walls.”
“So let’s go get married,” he said. I smiled down at my plate knowing that he wasn’t serious. He was just stringing me along.
“Yeah, right.” I said back. I didn’t get an immediate response, so I lifted my eyes to meet his.
“You think I’m kidding?” His eyes bunched together above the bridge of his nose.
“No,” I took his hand under the table, “But I think you would regret it.”
He turned his whole body towards me and grew as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “I would never, ever regret marrying you. How could you ever think that?”
I took a long, deep breath, and chose my next words carefully; we were already on such shaky ground. “You misunderstand me. You would regret Mad not being there. It wouldn’t be the same without the whole family.”
He grew more and more tense throughout this conversation and I could see that he was about to blow. “But that’s the only thing holding us back, right? You still plan to marry me when he gets back.”
I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of his suggestion. “Why are you saying that?”
He rubbed his hand over the stripe on his head. As he blew out a breath his cheeks puffed out. “I don’t know what in the Hell I’m saying. In fact, I just need to go home.” He threw his napkin on the table and excused himself. I turned and grabbed his hand before he got too far and asked him the question with my eyes but somehow I already knew the answer.
“Not tonight.” He whispered to me and I felt one more layer of us ravel apart in front of me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I looked across the table at Sylvia, the shell of Sylvia, already battered and worn, tears falling down her face. I got up and hugged her. “It’s gonna be fine. We are ok.” She nodded but I couldn’t stand being the cause of any more of her tears. So I left, went home to an empty house. I contemplated getting in my car and waltzing into Falcon’s apartment just to tell him how stupid he was to ever think I wouldn’t give anything to be his wife. But it just felt like another round of first aid on a gaping wound. I could clean it and re-bandage it all I wanted. But until Mad came back and we stood on the altar saying the vows, it would never completely be healed, the dispute would remain unsettled, just like my mind.
Chapter 14
Storey Delilah Kane
I just want a sweet guy—is that too much to ask?
I feel like a goat or a heifer at these shows. I get pushed around until I look just right and then move with the herd to the next pasture. I stop at the make-up station and they poke and brand me. Then when I get the approval of the make-up artist I get dragged to the hair station by my forearm as if I’m a toddler just learning to walk. I see the other girls scrunching their feet into high heels and contraptions that barely pass as dresses and swimsuits. I’m headed there next after this very charismatic hairdresser finished the polished victory rolls atop my head. She asked me some
“Do you remember the first time you came to one of these,” Falcon asked, whispering to me.
“Yeah, I was humiliated beyond belief and you bought me ice-cream”
“You wanted me so bad after that.” He laughed trying not to alert the rest of the table.
“I just thought I wanted you back then. I want you so bad now, I could climb the walls.”
“So let’s go get married,” he said. I smiled down at my plate knowing that he wasn’t serious. He was just stringing me along.
“Yeah, right.” I said back. I didn’t get an immediate response, so I lifted my eyes to meet his.
“You think I’m kidding?” His eyes bunched together above the bridge of his nose.
“No,” I took his hand under the table, “But I think you would regret it.”
He turned his whole body towards me and grew as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “I would never, ever regret marrying you. How could you ever think that?”
I took a long, deep breath, and chose my next words carefully; we were already on such shaky ground. “You misunderstand me. You would regret Mad not being there. It wouldn’t be the same without the whole family.”
He grew more and more tense throughout this conversation and I could see that he was about to blow. “But that’s the only thing holding us back, right? You still plan to marry me when he gets back.”
I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of his suggestion. “Why are you saying that?”
He rubbed his hand over the stripe on his head. As he blew out a breath his cheeks puffed out. “I don’t know what in the Hell I’m saying. In fact, I just need to go home.” He threw his napkin on the table and excused himself. I turned and grabbed his hand before he got too far and asked him the question with my eyes but somehow I already knew the answer.
“Not tonight.” He whispered to me and I felt one more layer of us ravel apart in front of me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I looked across the table at Sylvia, the shell of Sylvia, already battered and worn, tears falling down her face. I got up and hugged her. “It’s gonna be fine. We are ok.” She nodded but I couldn’t stand being the cause of any more of her tears. So I left, went home to an empty house. I contemplated getting in my car and waltzing into Falcon’s apartment just to tell him how stupid he was to ever think I wouldn’t give anything to be his wife. But it just felt like another round of first aid on a gaping wound. I could clean it and re-bandage it all I wanted. But until Mad came back and we stood on the altar saying the vows, it would never completely be healed, the dispute would remain unsettled, just like my mind.
Chapter 14
Storey Delilah Kane
I just want a sweet guy—is that too much to ask?
I feel like a goat or a heifer at these shows. I get pushed around until I look just right and then move with the herd to the next pasture. I stop at the make-up station and they poke and brand me. Then when I get the approval of the make-up artist I get dragged to the hair station by my forearm as if I’m a toddler just learning to walk. I see the other girls scrunching their feet into high heels and contraptions that barely pass as dresses and swimsuits. I’m headed there next after this very charismatic hairdresser finished the polished victory rolls atop my head. She asked me some
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