Great Expectations

Tears tracked slowly down my face, dripping onto my pink Hello Kitty t-shirt and marring it with small wet blotches. I watched from the backseat as the man jerked the wheel sharply sideways, my head slamming roughly into the window when the car fishtailed around a corner. I whimpered under my breath, but he didn’t hear me.

I tried not to think about the parking lot. About Mommy. But I was scared, and I didn’t want to stay back here anymore, and where were we going? And why so fast? I trembled and squeezed my eyes shut, praying silently that it was all a dream. Just a nightmare. Mommy will come in and wake me up any minute.

I heard the sound of sirens behind us, and the bad man said a curse. I knew it was a bad word because Mommy only ever said it when she was really upset or when something got broken, and afterwards she always made me promise never to repeat it.

“Fuck! God dammit!” The man was really angry, and maybe scared too. He was sweating and the car kept going faster, faster, faster.

The sirens were getting closer.

Suddenly, the man started turning the wheel wildly, sending us swerving through traffic. I heard the beeps of other cars and saw a red stoplight fly by overhead as we raced below.

He was going too fast. Mommy never drove this fast.

He was going to hurt me, just like he’d hurt her. I remembered the parking lot – watching Mommy falling to the ground like a rag-doll. She wasn’t going to get up; she’d never get up again.

My small hands clenched into fists. This bad man had hurt Mommy.

I was going to hurt him back.

Without another thought, I launched my small body out of my booster seat and used all the strength I had to hit him in the face.

He was surprised; he’d thought he was alone in the car. When my fist cracked across his temple, he yelled and lost his grip on the wheel. The car jolted, and I fell backwards onto my seat, clutching the booster straps tightly.

Something big crashed into the front of our SUV and then we were spinning, drifting in circles. The man wasn’t holding the wheel anymore – his arms were covering his face as the front windows shattered and glass flew all around us. My head cracked sharply against my window once more, and this time I couldn’t keep from crying out in pain.

When we stopped moving, I opened my eyes. The man was bleeding and covered in glass, but he was alive; he was also looking at me, his expression full of shock and disbelief.

My head hurt. I moved my hand up to touch it and sobbed. When I took my hand away, I saw that it was coated in bright red blood. Like Mommy’s blood, in the parking lot.

No, don’t think about that. Don’t think about Mommy.

The sirens were all around us now. My head ached and I wanted to go home. I wanted Mommy. The man brushed some of the glass shards from his jacket before reaching over to the passenger seat. He cursed again, then found what he was looking for – a gun. The gun he’d used on Mommy.

Grasping it in one hand, he turned to look at me.

“Come here,” he ordered, “You’re gonna help me outta this mess, okay kid? You help me, I won’t hurt you – got it?”

I nodded and released the booster buckles with shaking hands. I tugged on my door handle but it wouldn’t budge, and before I could crawl over to try the opposite side, the man had lunged back and grabbed me.

Dragging me over the console into the front seat with him, my bare arms scraped against the glass shards littering the driver’s side. I screamed when a huge, sharp piece got lodged in my collarbone, slashing deeply and releasing a torrent of blood.

“Shut up!” he growled. His face was bleeding and he was gripping my arm so tightly I knew it would leave behind a big bruise.

I whimpered.

“I said shut up! I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you, you little shit. I was home free, they weren’t gonna catch me. You fucked it all up. You made me crash.” He shook me roughly and my teeth clacked together from the force. I didn’t dare whimper this time, though.

He opened his door slowly, holding me in front of him like a shield.

“I’ve got a kid here,” he screamed to the waiting police officers. “Back the fuck off!”

He slowly eased out of the car, keeping a vise-like grip around my midsection. My feet dangled in the air, unable to reach the ground. I felt something cold and metallic press against my temple.

When we were out of the car, I saw that there were at least ten police cars parked in a circle around us with their lights flashing. The front of Mommy’s SUV was smashed in from where we’d hit the highway guardrail.

It was getting harder to breathe; his arm was squeezing too tight around my chest. My lungs burned, my hair was wet with blood, and my pink t-shirt was stained bright red around my left collarbone.

I could hear the police officers yelling at the bad man and him yelling back, but I couldn’t concentrate on the words. Everything slowly turned to black as my vision cut out and I faded into dark oblivion.

***

The scream tore out of my throat and I sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath and chilled to the bone. Taking calming breaths, I ran through my typical post-nightmare routine and gradually slowed my pounding heartbeat. A cursory glance at my cellphone informed me that it was almost seven in the morning. Thankfully, the nightmare had held off until dawn this time, allowing me a few extra hours of much-needed rest.

After making a cup of coffee, I grabbed my tattered copy of Gone With the Wind and propped open my bedroom window. A cool, early-morning breeze drifted in and I looked around my room for a sweatshirt to slip on before heading out onto the roof. Unable to find one amidst my stacks of unsorted laundry and far too impatient to search further, I swiped Finn’s leather jacket from its resting place on my desk chair and pulled my arms through the too-long sleeves. The jacket dwarfed me with excess material, hanging down to mid-thigh, but I knew it would keep me warm outside in the chilly autumn dawn.

Tucking my book under one arm and balancing a precariously full coffee mug, I maneuvered out the window and slid onto the roof. The morning sky was tinged pink with the sun’s arrival, and a light breeze stirred the leaves in the arcing branches of the maple. I bent my knees, drawing my legs up to my chest and wrapping Finn’s coat snugly around them. Fully cocooned in his jacket, I was enveloped by the scents of rich leather and the crisp apples of harvest-time. Distressed by the idea of Finn invading my senses, I brought the mug to my nose and inhaled deeply, letting the rich coffee aroma push him from my mind.

I took a sip and thought back over the events of the previous night. Miraculously, I’d escaped the typical aftereffects of a tequila binge and was hangover free. My cheeks flamed as I remembered the way I’d fallen asleep on Finn’s lap on the drive home. How was it that every interaction I had with that boy left me embarrassed and irritated beyond measure?

People didn’t usually get under my skin so easily. In fact, they rarely even made an impression. It disturbed me that a boy I’d known for about a nanosecond could leave me feeling so rattled and vulnerable after a few brief encounters.

Picking up my book, I traced a finger down its broken spine and flipped through the well-worn pages. I’d lost track long ago of how many times I’d read it. There was something about this particular story and the sweeping grandeur of the old south that called to me, allowing me to escape from my own time and lose myself completely within the pages. Books had given me an escape during the long years when I’d needed most to forget; when I read, Brooklyn disappeared and I became another girl, in different place, at some other time.

The sun crept slowly over the horizon, shooting warm yellow rays down through the abundantly leafed tree boughs and creating a kaleidoscope of shadows on my small perch. Flipping to a random page, I read until my coffee was gone and I heard the front door slam, announcing Lexi’s return. Angling my head to the sky, I let the emerging morning sun warm my face and hoped the coming day would be better than yesterday.

***

Wandering into the kitchen, I immediately spotted Lexi sprawled out on our sofa with one arm thrown over her eyes to block out the sun. I deposited my empty coffee mug in the dishwasher and made my way over to her, pulling her feet onto my lap as I sat at the end of the couch.

“How was the walk-of-shame?” I asked, indicating the red dress she still wore from last night. Lexi pulled her hand from her face and propped herself up on her elbows to look at me.

“Actually, he drove me home, if you must know,” she said, smiling, “And he said he’d come over tonight.”

“So you had a good night, I take it?”

“Good doesn’t begin to cover it,” she squealed, before launching into an in-depth play-by-play of her entire evening. I sat patiently, listening to her analysis of the things Tyler had said and done for a solid hour before getting up to pour myself another cup of coffee. It looked like I was going to need it with the way this day was headed already.

“I’m sorry I left you,” Lexi admitted, “I know shouldn't have but I just really like him, Brooklyn. And I knew Finn would get you home safe.”

“You don’t even know Finn, Lex,” I said, still slightly irritated by her selfishness. “He could’ve taken complete advantage of the situation.”

“He’s not a creep! You just haven't given him a chance,” she insisted. “You’re so hard on people, Brookie. You never let anyone in.”

“That’s not true!” Okay, maybe it was kind of true.

“Brooklyn, I’m your best friend and I still know virtually nothing about your home life or your childhood. And that’s okay, because I love you. But you have to let somebody in eventually, or you’ll end up alone.”

I didn’t respond. How had this conversation suddenly turned around on me?

“Thanks, Dr. Phil. I really appreciate it,” I snapped. “I’m going to take a shower.” I pushed her legs off my lap and stormed out of the room, knowing I needed space to cool down and time to remind myself that she was only trying to look out for me.

Back in my bedroom, I hopped in the shower and stood under the near-scalding water, hoping somehow it could wash away the emotions swirling inside my head.

A few moments later, my phone buzzed on my nightstand as I was pulling on a pair of jeans. I nearly tripped over my own feet in my hurry to answer the incoming call. The screen read Blocked Number – I wondered vaguely who it was as I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked, slightly out of breath. When no one responded I repeated myself, less patiently this time. “Hello? Is someone there?”

I could hear someone breathing on the other end of the line, but they still didn’t respond.

“Who is this?” I demanded, growing angry as a chill raced up my spine. I could feel the fine hair coating my forearms beginning to prickle in alarm.

The slow breathing continued.

“I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing,” I pointed out.

Still no response.

“Don’t call here again, creep,” I hissed into the phone, jabbing at the screen to end the call.

First the nightmare, then a fight with Lexi, and now a disturbing prank caller? If this morning was any indication, it was going to be a long ass day.

***

That evening, I trudged home from campus in a relentless downpour. What had begun as a beautiful sunny day had quickly turned overcast as ominous storm clouds overtook the blue sky. I stepped out of my last class and, as if it had been waiting for me, the sky opened up and sent down buckets of rain that soaked through my jeans and thin t-shirt within minutes. Unequipped to handle the fast-forming puddles, my flimsy sandals continually skidded across the wet sidewalks as I sloshed through the streets. Of all days to forget my umbrella at home, of course it had to be today.

As I hurried around the corner onto my street, I began to sense a presence behind me. It wasn’t as if I could hear footsteps following me, since the pounding rain drowned out all sound, but I knew instinctively that someone was walking behind me.

Watching me.

Without stopping, I cast a furtive glance over one shoulder and tried to see who it was. The heavy rain and thick cloud cover had darkened the sky – though I thought I could make out a shadowy form standing still on the sidewalk about twenty yards behind me on the otherwise abandoned street.

Who stands out on the street in weather like this?

I began to walk faster, suddenly eager to get home for more reasons than just the rain. No doubt looking like a drowned cat, I cursed myself for not checking the weather forecast this morning and continued my waterlogged trudge.

As soon as the dilapidated Victorian came into view, I bolted for the stairs and rushed inside, chilled to the bone and sopping wet. Rather than drip water all the way to my bedroom, I immediately peeled the t-shirt over my head and shimmied out of my sodden jeans, leaving them in a damp pile on the kitchen floor.

Dropping my backpack beside the door, I walked into the living room in just my bra and panties and hurried toward my bedroom. My teeth were chattering with cold and my hair was dripping, the long dark tendrils tangled and plastered around my torso. I couldn't get to the shower fast enough, desiring nothing more than to stand beneath the torrent and let the heat gradually sink back into my bones.

A loud, appreciative whistle sounded from the couch and stopped me in my tracks.

“Do you always walk around like that or did you just know I was coming over?”

I knew I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning

Finn lounged on my couch, completely relaxed, staring at me with an amused grin on his face. Throwing my hands in front of my chest I tried to cover my most crucial girl-parts, strategically rearranging my hair so it blocked his view of my chest. Miracle of miracles, I was wearing lacy boyshorts, rather than of one of my skimpier sets that left little to the imagination.

“It was raining,” I stammered, completely mortified by his presence but damned if I was going to let it show. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“I came over with Ty. He and Lexi disappeared into her room, oh—” he glanced at his watch. “–about a half hour ago.” He was still grinning at me, clearly pleased with himself.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m going to shower.”

“Is that an open invitation?” he asked, waggling his dark eyebrows at me. An involuntary laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it.

“You may well be the cockiest guy I’ve ever met,” I decided, still laughing.

“Thank you,” he said with a laugh.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” I shook my head, exasperated. “You do realize that you’re ridiculous, right? And that it’s never going to work on me?”

“Sweetheart,” he smirked, “It doesn’t really matter what you think, so long as the rest of the female student body disagrees.” His eyes continued to roam up and down the length of my body, and I promptly flipped him off.

“Ass,” I muttered, walking into my bedroom and firmly shutting and locking the door behind me. I wouldn’t put it past Finn to simply barge in and hop in the shower with me.

How could anyone seriously be attracted to him? Yes, I admit, he was godly to look at and yes, he had that whole tortured-musician vibe working for him, but his cocky attitude was a complete turnoff.

After a long, scalding hot shower, I padded back out into the living room dressed in my comfiest sweatpants and a tank top. My wet hair hung loose to my waist as I yanked a brush through it, trying to work out the snarls. Finn, still fully at ease on the sofa, didn’t even look up from the television as I made my approach.

“You’re still here?” I asked, irritated that he was taking up the entire couch. His eyes flicked briefly away from the screen, making a swift appraisal of my sweats, lack of makeup, and wet hair before returning to his show.

“I told you, I’m waiting for Ty,” he said. “Are you always so cranky?”

“Only when random boys barge into my home, proposition me, and then take up all the room on my couch,” I retorted. “Can you at least scoot over?”

He sighed, as if completely inconvenienced my by request, before shifting his legs off the cushions and onto the floor.

“So sorry to disturb you,” I said, settling onto the couch with a deep sigh of resignation.

“You should be,” he smirked, “I was pretty comfy.”

“Ugh!” I groaned, chucking a pillow at his head. “You are beyond obnoxious.” He easily dodged my throw before settling back into the cushions, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I huffed, exasperated, before crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. If he had a superpower, it wouldn’t be his singing ability or even his irresistible attractiveness – it would undoubtedly be his ability to piss me off like no one else.

“Don’t pout,” he mocked, “It promotes wrinkles.”

I chose to ignore him, turning my attention to the movie and attempting to relax. To my great surprise, we were able to stop bickering long enough for a comfortable silence to descend. Aside from the occasional giggle or moan emanating from the direction of Lexi’s room, the apartment was still and quiet. After almost an hour had passed, I heard the rhythm of Finn’s breathing change, growing deeper and steadier with each inhale. Sure enough, when I glanced over he was fast asleep.

He looked peaceful, almost childlike. His angular cheekbones were softened by the fading afternoon light, his dark hair was tousled, his mouth – usually firmly fixed in a condescending smile – was slackened with sleep. I couldn't help but grin at the sight of him, curled up like a young boy with one arm pillowed beneath his head.

Seeing him like this, I could understand why he was so appealing to the hoards of women who constantly trailed in his wake, vying for a minute of his attention. Hell, if he suddenly lost the ability to speak, I’d probably be right there with them. I knew, though, that the sweet sleeping boy before me was an illusion; when he woke, his mouth would quickly twist into a smirk and he’d morph back into an entitled, arrogant jerk. That Adonis-like physique was a total waste when it came packaged with a personality like his.

At least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I shut off the movie and quietly moved from the couch to the kitchen, so as not to disturb him. Grabbing my iPod off the counter, I slipped in my headphones and flipped to a favorite artist. It was nearly impossible for me to cook, clean, or do any kind of housework without music. My stomach growled as I began to gather dinner ingredients. Having skipped lunch earlier in my rush to get to class, I was craving Italian – preferably, some of my homemade chicken parmigiana.

Thirty minutes later, the aroma of freshly breaded cutlets and boiling pasta wafted around the kitchen. I’d made more than a single serving, figuring that Lexi and Tyler would be hungry after…working up an appetite…all afternoon. Laughing softly at the thought, I cleaned up my mess, loading dirty plates into the dishwasher and wiping down the countertops as Bon Iver hummed in my ears. I jumped about a foot when I finally looked up and noticed Finn perched on a barstool, watching me with that unwavering cobalt gaze.

“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!” I exclaimed, pulling my headphones from my ears. Annoyingly, my heart was racing and my breaths were much shallower than normal. I planted my hands on my hips and frowned at him. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” Finn yawned, completely unconcerned with my distress. He still looked rumpled and heavy-eyed from his nap. “Is that chicken parm I smell?” He inhaled deeply, clearly appreciative of the smells wafting from the oven. “I think I just fell in love with you.”

I chuckled, turning back to the sink and continuing to rinse the dishes. Finn swiped my iPod off the counter, scrolling through my list of artists and occasionally grunting in what I assumed was a grudging approval of my eclectic music tastes.

“Well, I’m definitely surprised,” he admitted after perusing for several minutes. “I’d pegged you as more of a Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber kind of girl.” I snorted openly at this assumption. “But you are missing some crucial bands on here. Namely, mine.” He noted.

“When are you going to realize I’m not one of your groupies?”

“Probably never. More importantly, when are we eating? I’m starving.”

“We?” I looked at him quizzically, raising one brow. “Who says I’m feeding you?”

“Oh, come on. You’re killing me here! It smells amazing and I haven’t had a home cooked meal in – come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve ever had a home cooked meal. My adoptive parents were big into take-out.”

His eyes were distant, clouded over as if he was sorting through memories. I glanced at him to see if he was being serious, but I didn’t know him well enough to tell. If he was looking for pity from me, though, he’d be sadly disappointed. His childhood, however lacking in home cooked meals it may have been, couldn't possibly have rivaled my dysfunctional upbringing.

Plus, I’d always had very little tolerance for people who used the shitty hand they’d been dealt by life as a perpetual crutch. Or worse, as an excuse for their later failures. I think the empathy gene may have skipped a generation with me – then again, taking my father into account, it may have been simply nonexistent in my family lineage.

Finn broke from his reverie and turned his pleading, puppy dog stare on me.

“Come on, please?”

I was saved from answering as the oven timer chimed, signaling that dinner was ready. With a sigh, I retrieved two plates from the cabinet and heaped them high with big portions of pasta, sauce, and cheese-covered chicken. I slid one across the kitchen island toward Finn and took a seat on the stool beside him.

He immediately dug in, showing gusto for food unique to college men, and we ate in companionable silence for several minutes. Finishing in record time, he let out a belch and happily patted his protruding stomach.

“Will you marry me?” he joked. “Because that was delicious. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“Well, there are these new things called recipe books…” I smiled teasingly, swirling strands of pasta around the tines of my fork. “Really, anyone can cook. You just have to know how to read and follow basic directions.”

“So you taught yourself?”

“My father wasn’t around much. I had nannies, but they didn’t typically stick around long enough to teach me anything.”

“I bet you drove them away with all that sass, you little troublemaker.” He smiled at the thought.

“Not exactly.” I said, grabbing his empty plate and stacking it on top of mine. “My father usually screwed them and when he inevitably grew bored, he’d hire a replacement. They tended to last longer when he was traveling abroad for business.”

Keeping my tone flat and indifferent, an ability I’d acquired after years of self-discipline, I hoped to discourage any more of Finn’s questioning – or worse, his pity. I carried our plates to the sink, rinsing them off and loading them into the dishwasher. Transferring all of the leftovers into a Tupperware, I placed it in the fridge where Lexi would be sure to find it if she ever emerged from her bedroom. When I looked up at Finn, he was staring at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“What?” I snapped defensively. This was exactly why I didn’t talk about my childhood.

“Nothing,” he said, looking away. “That just sounds…lonely, I guess.”

I shrugged, having no other reply to offer him. I didn’t want to talk about my past, especially not with a guy I barely knew. I was trying to think of a way to change the subject when Finn, to my surprise, did it for me.

“Come on,” he said abruptly, grabbing my hand and towing me from the kitchen.

“Let go of me!” I squealed, attempting to tug my hand from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You’ve got real trust issues, you know that right?” Finn said without breaking stride and continuing to drag me along in his wake. “We’re going to get dessert. You’ll thank me later – take my word for it.”

“I’m not sure your word is worth much of anything,” I grumbled, grudgingly allowing myself to be towed along.

“Ouch,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer my ego can take this abuse.”

“Well, considering its massive size, it should take more than a few of my insults to chip away at it.”

We were both laughing as we stepped out onto the patio and made our way down the stairs. Though the rain had stopped, moisture lingered heavily in the air and the setting sun peeked out from behind dark clouds, staining their edges pink and orange in the fading light. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Finn made his way over to a black motorcycle parked in the driveway behind Lexi’s sedan. He looked down at me warily, as if anticipating an adamant refusal to ever ride such a deathtrap.

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh and nimbly plucked the keys from his hand. Slipping on the too-large helmet, I straddled the bike, pulled out the choke, and started the ignition. I easily shifted into neutral before turning to look at Finn, who was staring at me open-mouthed.

The look of absolute shock on his face was priceless; I finally lost control and a stream of giggles escaped my lips. Sliding the helmet visor down, I shifted into gear and sped out of the driveway, leaving him in the dust.

Finn’s Ducati handled a bit differently than the vintage ones my father kept in our garage at home, but I soon adjusted to its controls. It had been several years since I’d ridden. Many nights during my high school years, when I’d been desperate to escape my father and his large, soulless house, I’d snuck into the car hanger and taken one of his many toys for a drive. Sometimes, I’d take the Lamborghini, the Bentley, or the vintage Aston Martin, but on the nights I’d craved rushing wind and dangerous speeds, I’d always preferred the motorcycles.

I did a lap around my block before pulling back into the driveway. Finn hadn’t moved. His face was still frozen in a mask of surprise as I whipped off the helmet and handed it back to him, laughing.

“You...I...What…just happened?” He stammered, gazing down at me with a mix of admiration and astonishment. “Am I dreaming? ‘Cause you just fulfilled one of the all-time top male fantasies. Except typically by this point in my dream, you’d be naked.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I laughed.

“You just keep surprising me,” Finn said, shaking his head. “You’re so different from what I expected.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” What had he expected?

“Never mind. Now, can I hop on, or are you planning to drive and completely emasculate me on my own motorcycle?”

I laughed and slid backwards, making room for him to take over the controls. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around his torso as we raced into the autumn night. The sun slipped below the horizon and the fallen maple leaves, stirred into a fluttering vortex by our tires, settled onto shadowed streets.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 480