Read Online Tracks (Rock Bottom) by Sarah Biermann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Biermann
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good. I feel a sudden defensiveness for these girls. “ In that case, I hope it stays that way and I don’t get thrown out as easily as they did.”
He stops playing and puts his guitar down on the floor next to him gently. He folds his hands and places them in his lap , with his cigarette in between two fingers. “What’s up with you? Why are you so damn defensive?” He tries to sound angry but seems amused. His angry voice is rough and sexy.
With that I stand up off the couch. I don’t understand why I’m angry. I obviously take him by surprise. His eyes widen and he looks up at me.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. I turn red. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t understand what I’m feeling.” The words are spilling out uncontrollably. I try to scream at myself to stop but it just feels so good to get it off my chest. “ I feel like an idiot. I’ve never felt this way. I don’t understand how to go down this path. It doesn’t make any sense to me. And it’s so soon and sudden.”
Jeremy stands up and places his soft hand with rough fingertips on my arms. He runs his hands down my arms slowly to grab my hands. We stare into each other’s eyes for a minute. I start to feel ridiculous, and I laugh at myself. He smiles and laughs a low laugh too. We sit back down on the couch together. “Feel better?” he says, smiling.
“Yea , actually.” I’m slightly embarrassed. He lays back slightly on the arm rest.
“So…” he starts. “You’ve never been in a relationship?”
I guess I opened myself up to this line of questioning. But I remember what I was thinking on the stairs outside of my house before I came. Jeremy is, quite possibly and probably, one of a kind. I decide that I’m going to try to be as open as possible and let my guard down a little. That way, if it goes wrong, I can shrug my shoulders at fate and say, ‘Hey, at least I really tried.’
I sigh. “No, I have. I’ve dated a few guys here and there. But I’ve only bee n in one serious relationship.”
He puts his elegant hand up to his face and rubs his chin for a moment. He immediately puts his hand back in min e. “It was a bad ending, then?”
I shrug. “No,” I answered honestly. “I just didn’t love him. I was comfortable with him, and at the time I thought it would be enough. But I’ve seen that life, and it doesn’t work out for anyone,” I say darkly.
I look at him and he is listening patiently, hanging on every word. His bedroom blue eyes burn into me.
There’s a knock at the door, and Jeremy yells for them to enter. A woman comes in, dressed in all black, and pulls in a food cart. Jeremy thanks the woman, and she leaves.
Over lunch, the most delicious seafood and pasta I’ve ever tasted, I tell Jeremy about my parents. It’s hard for me to talk about, as only one or two people in my life have ever even known.
My life as a child on the outside seemed normal enough. My parents were very loving to me when I was younger, an only child, and I learned a lot from them. A lot of good things: how to focus in school, responsibility, and critical thinking. It’s what got me into Harvard. However, I learned a lot of awful things from them, too. My parents were friends for many years before they got married. They worked together numerous times when they were organizing political marches and benefits for the Democratic Party in the sixties and seventies. My parents married for convenience, so they didn’t have to be alone. They both wanted children but had thrown themselves into their work for too long to have met anyone, and they were approaching the age where it was too late to conceive.
They got along well enough. They never fought or argued, but they were never intimate either. They were just…nothing. They barely spoke. They never took me on family trips or took family pictures with me. It confused me so much as a little girl. I knew my family wasn’t normal. Then one day when I was seven my mother
He stops playing and puts his guitar down on the floor next to him gently. He folds his hands and places them in his lap , with his cigarette in between two fingers. “What’s up with you? Why are you so damn defensive?” He tries to sound angry but seems amused. His angry voice is rough and sexy.
With that I stand up off the couch. I don’t understand why I’m angry. I obviously take him by surprise. His eyes widen and he looks up at me.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. I turn red. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t understand what I’m feeling.” The words are spilling out uncontrollably. I try to scream at myself to stop but it just feels so good to get it off my chest. “ I feel like an idiot. I’ve never felt this way. I don’t understand how to go down this path. It doesn’t make any sense to me. And it’s so soon and sudden.”
Jeremy stands up and places his soft hand with rough fingertips on my arms. He runs his hands down my arms slowly to grab my hands. We stare into each other’s eyes for a minute. I start to feel ridiculous, and I laugh at myself. He smiles and laughs a low laugh too. We sit back down on the couch together. “Feel better?” he says, smiling.
“Yea , actually.” I’m slightly embarrassed. He lays back slightly on the arm rest.
“So…” he starts. “You’ve never been in a relationship?”
I guess I opened myself up to this line of questioning. But I remember what I was thinking on the stairs outside of my house before I came. Jeremy is, quite possibly and probably, one of a kind. I decide that I’m going to try to be as open as possible and let my guard down a little. That way, if it goes wrong, I can shrug my shoulders at fate and say, ‘Hey, at least I really tried.’
I sigh. “No, I have. I’ve dated a few guys here and there. But I’ve only bee n in one serious relationship.”
He puts his elegant hand up to his face and rubs his chin for a moment. He immediately puts his hand back in min e. “It was a bad ending, then?”
I shrug. “No,” I answered honestly. “I just didn’t love him. I was comfortable with him, and at the time I thought it would be enough. But I’ve seen that life, and it doesn’t work out for anyone,” I say darkly.
I look at him and he is listening patiently, hanging on every word. His bedroom blue eyes burn into me.
There’s a knock at the door, and Jeremy yells for them to enter. A woman comes in, dressed in all black, and pulls in a food cart. Jeremy thanks the woman, and she leaves.
Over lunch, the most delicious seafood and pasta I’ve ever tasted, I tell Jeremy about my parents. It’s hard for me to talk about, as only one or two people in my life have ever even known.
My life as a child on the outside seemed normal enough. My parents were very loving to me when I was younger, an only child, and I learned a lot from them. A lot of good things: how to focus in school, responsibility, and critical thinking. It’s what got me into Harvard. However, I learned a lot of awful things from them, too. My parents were friends for many years before they got married. They worked together numerous times when they were organizing political marches and benefits for the Democratic Party in the sixties and seventies. My parents married for convenience, so they didn’t have to be alone. They both wanted children but had thrown themselves into their work for too long to have met anyone, and they were approaching the age where it was too late to conceive.
They got along well enough. They never fought or argued, but they were never intimate either. They were just…nothing. They barely spoke. They never took me on family trips or took family pictures with me. It confused me so much as a little girl. I knew my family wasn’t normal. Then one day when I was seven my mother
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