“Hey,” he said, spinning me back around to face him. Tilting my chin up, he forced my eyes to meet his. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to stay with you. I want you pretty fucking desperately, if I’m being honest. The fact that you’d even doubt that is crazy.”
Suddenly, appallingly, my eyes were filling with tears. “Maybe I am. Crazy, that is. I’m fucked up, okay? You don’t know the first thing about me. And if you did, you’d probably just run.” I tried to break away from the grasp he had on my face, but he held firm. “I can’t give you what you want. A– a relationship. Even if I wanted to, I can’t make you any promises,” I hiccupped.
Finnleaned in and slowly kissed each teardrop from my cheeks. “First of all, I don’t want to hear you call yourself crazy, or fucked up, or anything like that ever again. Secondly, did I ask you to make me any promises? No.” His eyes radiated sincerity and warmth. “Nothing has to change. Well, other than the fact that I’m going to be kissing you as often as you’ll let me, because your mouth is amazing. Seriously, I may have to go home and write a song about it. We’ll play it at our next show; I’ll call itOde to Brooklyn’s Orifices. It’ll be an instant Top-40 hit, just you wait.”
I deteriorated into giggles – hewas so ridiculous. “I hate you,” I sighed, my laughter gradually subsiding.
“Impossible,” he grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips and watching as I opened the door to my apartment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure that’s what you tell all the girls,” I teased.
His face turned serious. “Bee, there are no other girls. There’s never been anyonereal for me except you.” A wistful expression crossed his face. “It’s always been you.”
My heart stuttered in my chest at his words and I gripped the doorframe to keep myself steady.
“Goodnight,” I whispered, overwhelmed.
“Goodnight, Bee.” He winked at me before turning to walk down the stairs. I closed the door and brought a hand up to trace my slightly swollen lips, the only tangible proof I had of what had just happened between us. Otherwise, I might’ve dismissed it as some kind of misguided fantasy.
Could I do this? Could I get involvedwith Finn and remain emotionally detached? He said he wasn’t going to stay away from me anymore, and I didn’t want him to. He was my friend and all I knew was that I’d missed him this past week. But could I sleep with him without letting all my walls come crashing down? I felt like I’d been asking myself that question for months as Finn and I slowly circled each other. And now that we’d finally collided, I still wasn’t sure what my decision would be.
Sure, I was getting better –going to therapy, thinking about my mom and facing up to my past. That didn’t mean I wasnormal, and I was certainly not well adjusted enough to give myself to another person in a committed relationship.
I needed to sort out my own shit before I could even consider taking a leap like that. As if that wasn’t enough of a hurdle, I also doubted I would ever get to a place where I could be fully honest with Finn about my past – and he was too pushy to ever be content with being left dark. This relationship was a disaster, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, even in theory.
I was confused,and I definitely needed time to think about everything. I was also too tired to deal with the gamut of emotions battling for my attention.
Channeling Scarlett O’Hara, my all-time favorite literary lady and clearly a formative influence on my development, I decided I couldn’t think about the Finn situation right now – I’d think about it tomorrow.
Afterall…tomorrow is another day.
Chapter Nine
Bare Walls
I was afraid of the top bunk. It was too high off the ground.
At home, I’d had a pink bed – Mommy always called it my princess bed. She’d painted my bedroom to look like a scene from one of my favorite fairytales, and the walls were covered with princesses and fairies and knights and even a magic castle. The ceiling was painted with stars and clouds and a green sparkly dragon. Every night, she’d read me stories before bed, and I would stare at my walls and pretend I was skipping down the paths of an enchanted forest, or locked high up in the tallest tower of the castle. Sometimes, Mommy and I would read a new story and afterwards she would get out her paintbrushes and add to my walls.
I wondered if another little girl was sleeping in my princess room now.
I looked up at the chipping paint of the gray ceiling in my new room, stained with brown and green splotches. My foster mother didn’t know how to paint castles or stars or dragons.
The house was quiet. I’d been lying in my bunk for hours but I couldn’t sleep. I was scared of what I knew I’d see when my eyes drooped closed.I missed my room. I missed Mommy. I missed bedtime stories and the way she’d always sing as she painted.
Slipping quietly down thebunk bed ladder, I adjusted the too-long sleeves of my pajamas and padded out into the hall. I shared a bedroom with three other girls, but they were all older than me and they snored and drooled and thrashed as they slept.
Imoved down the hallway on my tiptoes, trying not to make any noise. My foster mother got mad when she caught us out of bed at night, even if we’d had bad dreams. I’d been here for a few weeks now, but I’d learned the first night that there would be no bedtime stories or soft hands to tuck me in.
When I reached the back door, I pushed it open cautiously; I knew from coming here almost every night that it would squeak if I moved it too fast. I stepped out onto the porch, my bare feet cold on the uneven wooden planks. Sitting down on the steps that led into the backyard, I propped my head in my hands and looked up at the sky. There were no stars, here. No green sparkly dragons, either. Just clouds and swirling darkness.
“You shouldn’t be out here, you know.”
I startled, my head whipping around to peer into the dark corner of the porch where the voice had come from. It was a boy’s voice, deeper and rougher than my own. I curled in on myself, frightened as I watched him emerge from the shadows.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said, sitting down on the step next to me. Close but not too close. “But you shouldn’t be out here.It’s late and it’s cold.”
I stared at him.