Cliff’s Edge

“And you have no memories of this boy other than those from your dreams?” Dr. Angelini asked.

If I’d been expecting her to express shock or even mild surprise at my revelation of the sad-eyed boy in my dreams, I would have been sincerely disappointed – her face was utterly unresponsive as she leveled me with her clinical stare.

“I don’t have many clear memories from my time in the foster system,” I admitted. “Until now, it’s mostly been fuzzy images. Sometimes, a particular smell or taste would trigger a vague memory, but nothing has ever been this vivid before.”

“When you say vivid—” Dr. Angelini began, seeking clarification.

“When I have one of the dreams, it’s like I’m six years old again, reliving things in real-time. It’s so real – more real than almost anything I’ve ever felt.”

My mind reeled through a series of images: the hands of two lost children clasped tightly; a swarm of fireflies meandering through untamed bracken; the dark night sky, swirling with stars far beyond our reach.

I looked away from her unflinching stare, steering my gaze out the large windows over her shoulder. She had a great view – I wondered absently whether she ever took the time to enjoy it. It was hard to imagine Dr. Angelini looking anywhere other than inside the skulls of her patients.

“Do the dreams upset you?” she asked.

My eyes drifted back to her face, which, unsurprisingly, was blank of any true emotion. Despite her unruffled serenity, I could see the alertness in her eyes and knew that she was highly focused on everything I was saying. The mind hidden beneath that smooth blonde chignon was constantly analyzing and evaluating, picking apart everything I said and inferring the things I’d purposefully left out. More than once, I had to remind myself that this torture was self-imposed – that it was good for me.

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But not because of what happens in them. It’s more upsetting because I feel like I don’t even know my own mind. I suddenly have all these memories I never knew about, just locked away in my subconscious – it makes me wonder what else I’ve forgotten or blocked out.”

“The human mind is a complex thing, Brooklyn. Even after decades of research and despite the revolutionary development of brain imaging machines, we still are virtually no closer to understanding how the brain functions, let alone why it works the way it does.”

I nodded in agreement; I’d taken Pysch 101 freshman year – none of this was news to me.

“And memory is one of the most mysterious and complex mental processes of all,” she continued. "We really don’t know how the brain stores and recalls information; all we do know is that memories are rarely brought to the surface randomly. Typically, there is a trigger of some kind, which creates a mental association between a current sensory stimulus and one that has been stored away in the mind.”

“So, you’re saying that something I’m experiencing now is unearthing my memories of this boy?”

“It’s possible,” Dr. Angelini postulated noncommittally.

Damn shrinks and their inability to give a definitive answer to a single question.

“Do you want to remember?” she asked. “Or would you rather these memories remained buried?”

“It’s got nothing to do with whether I want to remember or not,” I said. “I have no control over it.”

“Brooklyn, have you ever considered that maybe you’re simply remembering now because you’re finally ready to?” she asked.

I didn’t know the answer to that question.

We moved on, spending the remainder of the session discussing my performance at The Blue Note and my painting project. I didn’t mention Finn’s role in the whole process, nor did I tell her that we’d finally crossed the boundary of friendship.

There was still a significant part of me that didn’t want to admit anything had changed between the two of us. There was also a smaller, yet equally vocal, part of me that was afraid if I admitted our relationship out loud to Dr. Angelini, I would jinx the entire thing, and it would fall apart before it had ever had a change to fall fully together.

As I stood to leave, Dr. Angelini rose from behind her desk and stilled me by placing one manicured hand lightly on my forearm.

“For what it’s worth, Brooklyn, I think you’ve shown tremendous progress in the past few months,” she said, her eyes detachedly compassionate in a clinical sort of way. “The fact that you’re finally opening up and allowing yourself to embrace the past can is extremely brave, not to mention exceedingly more healthy than your previous coping strategies.”

“What, doc, you didn’t approve of the meaningless sex and tequila binges?” I asked playfully, uncomfortable with the serious turn our conversation had taken.

She was being complimentary – supportive even – and it instantly made me uneasy. I knew I was being cynical, but in my experience, people were rarely genuine and sincere compliments were few and far between. Since I’d also never been on the receiving end of many – my father hadn’t exactly been Brady Bunch material – I was wary of the look in Dr. Angelini’s eyes, which could easily be classified as pride.

“Brooklyn,” Dr. Angelini said, pulling me back to the present. “Even you didn’t approve of your sexual activities or alcohol abuse.” One sculpted eyebrow lifted sardonically from behind her square-framed Chanel glasses as she stared at me.

“How do you figure that, doc?” I asked.

“You wouldn’t be standing here in my office if you did.”

***

After the session, I headed to Maria’s and ordered two Greek salads – dinner for Lexi and I. Thankfully, no one I knew was in line so I didn’t have to make small talk. There were few things I hated more than idle chitchat: the inane volley of meaningless words, nothing more than fillers in an otherwise uncomfortable silence.

One of the many things I failed to understand about so-called ‘normal’ people was their inability to just enjoy the quiet. Were they so afraid of others’ judgment that they felt it necessary to prattle on indefinitely, in hopes of keeping the conversation superficial and safe? Or was it that they were afraid to look, even for a short time, into the depths of their own mind – to truly examine their own thoughts –for fear they wouldn’t like what they saw?

I didn’t know.

All I did know was that nine out of ten people I encountered had no concept of the value in simply sharing a silence. And I guess that was kind of a shame for them, because there was a certain kind of purity, intimacy even, in just sitting with someone and not feeling the need to speak at all.

One of the only people I’d ever felt that with was Finn.

I hadn’t heard from him since he’d left my apartment several hours ago, but I was glad for the time alone. He knew me well enough to understand that I needed space enough to process everything that had happened between us last night – but not so much space that I had time to talk myself out of becoming involved with him altogether.

Even though Finn hadn’t said it in so many words, I was relatively sure he wanted “us” to be more long-term than a single sleepover. It was his actions that spoke to me the loudest – his feather-light caresses as he’d made love to me, the constellation of stars he’d hand-painted on my ceiling the next morning, even his stupid ‘princess’ pet name. They all pointed to one thing: a relationship of some kind.

I knew I’d freak out if I over-analyzed it, so I wasn’t letting myself think about it at all. Well, that’s not entirely true – I was thinking about the sex, I just wasn’t really concentrating on the relationship aspect of things…Possibly because I was so focused on how good the sex had been. And how long I had to wait until we could do it again.

A quick glance at my watch showed that it was quarter past six, and Finn’s show would likely go until nearly midnight. I groaned inwardly; six hours seemed a lifetime away.

After paying for our salads, I hurried out the door and headed home. I sent Lexi a quick text telling her I was on my way, and she replied instantaneously.

Here anxiously waiting 4 dinner and details. Hurry up! :p

Great, so I was walking into an ambush.

I hadn’t been naïve enough to hope that Lexi would simply forget to ask about Finn and I, but I was hoping to avoid it for a little longer. I couldn’t skirt the topic with her like I had with Dr. Angelini – Lex already knew something was going on between us. But that didn’t mean I had to give her all the details, right?

Who was I kidding?

This was Lexi – she’d tie me to a chair and shoot bamboo slivers under my fingernails until I gave her a detailed play-by-play of each minute I’d spent with Finn. The girl was annoyingly persistent when she wanted something; I’d always thought a career with the CIA as a terrorist interrogator might’ve been a better fit than fashion merchandizing.

Stepping through our front door, I set down the bag containing our salads on the kitchen island and looked around warily for her. Right on cue, I heard her bedroom door fly open and slam against the opposing wall, followed by the sound of bare feet rushing across the hardwood floors. I watched as she came into view; rounding the hallway corner at full speed, her red hair whipping around her face, she skidded to a halt directly in front of me.

“Tell me,” she demanded, slightly out of breath.

“Okay, okay, let’s eat dinner and then I will. Calm dow—”

“No!” Lexi cut me off. “You will tell me immediately. I have been your best friend since the second fucking grade and this is the first time you’ve ever had anything remotely romantic happen to you. I have been totally gypped in the friend department until now! ” Lexi huffed, as if my lack of previous relationships was a direct attack against her.

“Gee, thanks Lex!”

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean,” she said, smacking me lightly on the arm. “Can’t I be excited, Brookie? All I’ve ever wanted was to see you happy.”

I snorted. Yeah, like that’s her only motive here.

“Oh, fine!” She glared at me, but I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “I also happen to be excited about the prospect of double dates. So sue me!”

I started laughing and she immediately joined in, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tightly for almost a full minute.

“Um, Lex?”

“What?” she asked, her arms still wrapped around my torso.

“Cant…breathe…”

“Oh!” Lexi gasped, releasing her hold at once. I gratefully gulped oxygen into my lungs. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Sometimes I forget how little you are.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to pull our salads out of the bag. As I grabbed silverware and plates, Lexi grabbed a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge, poured some into two tall glasses, and topped each off with a healthy dose of vodka and grenadine.

“Dirty Shirleys,” she said, smiling in anticipation as she stirred ice into the glasses and handed one to me.

“Cheers,” I said.

“To best friends and boyfriends,” Lexi toasted with a wink at me.

“And really great sex,” I added, giggling into my glass as Lexi snorted ginger ale out her nose.

“Details. Right. Now,” Lexi demanded, dabbing her face with a napkin.

I took a big swig of my drink – I was going to need it for this conversation.

***

Several hours later I’d consumed half a Greek salad and three and a half Dirty Shirleys, and Lexi was staring at me with her mouth gaping open. I’d just finished telling her everything about Finn and me, from the night I’d bailed on Landon, to painting my bedroom together, and, of course, the marathon sex we’d had afterwards. She’d been silent throughout the entire story, her only expression one of ever-building astonishment as she absorbed every word that left my mouth with rapt attention.

When I’d finished she didn’t speak for a long time, and as the minutes slowly ticked by I began to grow uneasy. Then, abruptly hopping down from her stool at the kitchen island, she wandered from the room without a word to me. I followed her because, well, what else was I supposed to do?

Lexi turned down the hallway to our bedrooms, bypassed her own door, and threw mine open without hesitation. I waited in the doorway, watching as she entered the room and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. After Finn had left this afternoon I’d spent some time cleaning up the brushes and paint-covered drop cloths, pushing my furniture back into place and, lastly, hanging the canvas images on the wall opposite my bed. Offset against the sky blue paint, the photos looked beautiful.

Lexi made her way over to them, stopping to examine each one individually before lightly tracing her fingertips across the three smiling faces enlarged on canvas; her own, then mine, and finally, my mother’s.

The faces of my family.

Lexi turned away from the images and, when her eyes found mine, they were filled with unshed tears.

“Brookie,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Look up,” I said, nodding toward the ceiling.

She did as I told her; tilting her head back to examine it, her eyes widened in surprise, then wonder. As she took in the constellation of stars overhead, I saw the floodgates finally break open and watched as tears cascaded down her face. She didn’t move to wipe them away; she simply let them fall as she pivoted in a slow circle, staring up at the beauty Finn had created for me with a simple paintbrush.

I would have hugged her, but I knew from experience that Lexi would only cry harder if I tried to comfort her. Right now, she simply needed quiet time to process her thoughts – so that’s exactly what I gave her. I didn’t leave my spot in the doorway or try to speak to her, and within minutes her tears had dried up. She moved to sit on my bed, looking overwhelmed and slightly shell-shocked. I couldn’t really blame her – I’d felt that way for most of the day.

Turning from the room, I walked back to the kitchen, grabbed both of our drinks, and carried them back to my bedroom. Without a word, I handed Lexi her glass, and she gulped down a fortifying sip. She’d barely said a word, with the exception of my name, for the past three hours. That had to be some kind of record, considering Lexi typically had more trouble staying quiet than most hyper five-year-old children.

I should have known it wouldn’t last long.

Her blank face began to morph, an unmistakable shit-eating grin spreading across her face. “He did this,” she said, gesturing up at the ceiling.

I nodded.

“You let him stay the night,” she noted.

“Yeah,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my drink.

“You like him,” she continued, her smirk still in place.

“Yeah,” I shrugged again, taking an even bigger gulp of my Dirty Shirley.

“You like, really, really, like him,” she squealed, clapping her hands together and beginning to bounce up and down in her seat. I decided that not responding to her was my safest course of action at this point. Any more confessions and she might spontaneously combust.

“You want to go on dates with him, and let him hold your hand, and have little baby BrookFinns – FinnLyns? – with him!”

Well, that escalated quickly.

I stared at Lexi in semi-horror and fought to control the instant nausea that had gripped me as soon as those words left her mouth. I never wanted children. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – bring a kid into a world like this one.

Not ever.

But unless I wanted those three Dirty Shirleys I’d consumed to have an encore appearance, I needed to get control of myself. I shoved away my near anxiety attack and reminded myself that Lexi had been joking.

“FinnLyn? Did you seriously just combine our names?” I asked, forcing a laugh.

“I like BrookFinn better,” Lexi murmured contemplatively. Her eyes were glazed and distant as her mind conjured images of terrifying things – bridesmaid dresses and houses with white picket fences and squirming babies with dark hair and cobalt eyes. I shuddered and tried to ignore her, only just resisting the urge to cover my ears and yell la-la-la-la over and over again until she left me alone.

“You’re lucky you even have names that mesh. This girl Kylee in my American Lit class is dating a boy named Kyle – total disaster.”

“Totally,” I agreed, snorting into my drink.

“No need to be sarcastic, Brookie,” Lexi said, snapping out of her white taffeta dreamland and leveling me with an evaluative stare.

Uh oh. I knew that look.

“You have to look epically hot tonight,” she decided. “Boy, do I have my work cut out for me.”

“Bitch!” I protested, smacking her on the arm.

“Oh, shush, I was just kidding,” Lexi said. “You’re not that bad.”

I glared at her. She giggled.

“You’re beautiful, and you know it,” Lexi rolled her eyes at me like I was the ridiculous one, before blowing me an air kiss which I pretended to swat away from my face. “I’m still pulling out the big guns, though.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her, scared to ask what Lexi’s ‘big guns’ entailed.

“The Dress,” Lexi said, as if that explained everything.

“That really doesn’t clarify anything for me, Lex.”

“Just trust me. When you see The Dress – actually, when Finn sees the dress – everything will be clear as day.”

When she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward her bedroom I didn’t put up a fight, mostly because I was drunk but also partly because Lexi was right – I did want to look hot tonight. For the first time in my life, I actually cared about impressing a boy.

Lexi led me into her room and immediately knelt down to retrieve a sleek box wrapped in ornate white and gold paper from the space beneath her bed. She handed it to me, an excited grin plastered across her face and her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“What’s this?” I asked, hesitantly taking the box from her.

“Early birthday present,” Lexi shrugged. “I was saving it for next week, but tonight calls for epic, and The Dress is epically epic.”

I stared down at the box in my hands, then back up at my best friend. Setting the present gently on her bed, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her tall frame.

“Love you, Lex.”

I felt her stiffen with surprise, then sigh as her body relaxed and her arms came around me. “Love you too, Brookie.” She whispered, squeezing me tightly. “Now open your goddamned present!”

I laughed, pulling away and grabbing the box. Tearing away the wrapping paper eagerly, I opened the lid and found The Dress nestled in a cocoon of white tissue paper.

Lexi had been right – it was epic.

The Dress was a deep emerald green, nearly the exact shade of my eyes, and strapless, with a daringly low sweetheart neckline that would make the best of my cleavage. It had a tight bodice-style top, intricately embroidered with small beading around the edges, which would fit my body like a glove from the waist up. The bottom half of the dress was short – the skirt would only brush the tops of my thighs – but it was made of a gauzy, flowing material of the same deep green shade, that would float out around me as I walked.

I loved it instantly.

For the first time I was grateful to have a best friend studying fashion, and as I clutched The Dress to my chest I lifted my eyes to look at Lexi.

“The Dress is freaking epic. You are freaking epic.”

“I know,” Lexi agreed, smiling hugely. “Now sit your ass down so I can do your hair and makeup.”

I rolled my eyes and did as she said.

***

When we stepped through the doors of Styx, Finn and the band were already well into their first set and the place was so packed with people it must’ve been well over the fire marshal’s legal capacity. My eyes cut straight through the pulsating crowd, landing immediately on Finn.

Dressed in a dark navy t-shirt and distressed jeans, he was leaning toward the audience with both hands wrapped around the microphone stand. His eyes were closed as he sang the final note of a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, his face chiseled and beautiful under the bright stage lights.

God, he was hot.

It was clear I wasn’t the only one who thought so; his resident fangirl skanks were in attendance by the dozens, pressed tightly against the stage and flashing their girl-bits at him every chance they got.

Retract claws, Brooklyn.

I tore my eyes away and did a quick scan of the room. When my gaze passed over the bar, I noticed Gordon and several of his hulking football teammates drinking beers. He’d noticed our entrance and was staring straight at me, his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted up in a cruel smirk. Our eyes locked briefly before his gaze lowered to travel the length of my body, so slowly and thoroughly that my every hair stood on end in discomfort.

I hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to approach me, after what had happened last time. If Finn had to pull him off me again, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself before sending Gordon to the ER.

Or the morgue.

I kept my face expressionless, knowing that assholes like Gordon got off on scaring and manipulating women. While mentally projecting a go-fuck-yourself his way, I steered Lexi toward the opposite side of the bar, as far from him as we could get. Finn had launched into a new song, and I focused on his voice rather than Gordon’s foreboding presence.

I squared my shoulders. I was wearing The Dress, I’d had fantastic sex with a guy who was so amazing it scared me, and my best friend was quite possibly the coolest girl on the planet – nothing, not even Gordon Asshole O’Brien, was going to ruin this night for me.

After a few rounds at the bar, I was almost able to forget about him completely. Lexi and I were buzzed and happy, dancing on the fringes of the dance floor with drinks in hand as we watched the band – or, more specifically, the drummer and lead singer – play through their set.

Every once and a while, I’d see Finn’s gaze sweeping through the crowd as if he were searching for someone. My airway felt constricted as hope warred with fear within me; more than anything, I wanted it to be me he was looking for in that sea of faces. Several times, I refused Lexi’s attempts to drag us closer to the stage, where Finn would be sure to spot us; I wasn’t ready to have my fears confirmed, one way or the other.

When the band announced they’d be taking their first break, I watched as Finn, Ty, Scott, and Trent – the final band member who I’d yet to meet – hopped off the stage and were immediately swarmed by groupies. I tried to reel in the unfamiliar, unfounded jealousy I was feeling. Finn wasn’t my boyfriend; sure, we’d had great sex – but we’d never talked about what that meant. We’d certainly never said anything about exclusivity or labels.

Finn was slowly making his way toward the bar; I could just make out his form amid the crowd of girls hanging off him. I’d never felt this way before, never cared this much before, and for a moment I stood rooted to the ground, watching him and feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach by a steel-toed Timberland boot. Lexi’s eyes were swinging from me, to Finn, then back to me, her expression both sympathetic and wary of my reaction.

Suddenly, I had the strong urge to slap myself across the face. Who was this girl, standing in the shadows and watching a guy she had feelings for get mauled by slutty groupies? Who was she, waiting on the wings because she was too afraid to step out and face the music? I sure as hell didn’t recognize her.

She wasn’t the person my mother had been. And she definitely wasn’t the person my mother had raised me to be. Closing my eyes, I could almost hear the whisper of her words in my ear; I could nearly feel the warmth of her body pressed to my side as we lay in my childhood bed looking up at my fairytale ceiling.

Brooklyn, some people live their whole lives standing on the cliff’s edge, waiting for some guarantee that when they finally take that leap into the unknown, there’ll be a safety net there to catch them. But those people, Bumblebee? They never really live. They watch as their lives pass them by, waiting for something that doesn’t exist.

Because you’ll never be a hundred percent sure of anything. You’ll take chances on people, and they’ll hurt you. You’ll try some things, and you’ll fail at them. And that’s okay, Bee – that’s life. You can’t stop living it because you’re scared. You can’t wait on the cliff’s edge forever, just because it’s safe.

You have to jump.

I had to jump.

Suddenly, before I had time to think about what I was doing, I was moving – pushing through the crowd to get to him. I unapologetically elbowed my way through the swarm of girls, ignoring their sharp squeals of protest and finally breaking through the circle surrounding Finn. I came to a stop about a yard away from him.

His eyes met mine immediately, as if he’d been waiting for me to materialize from the crowd at any moment. We both stood frozen with several feet between us and simply stared at one other. As our gazes locked, emerald clashing with cobalt, I felt it again: that indescribable force that seemed to tug me in his direction whenever we were close, like two magnets held only centimeters apart – their attraction irrefutable and infinite. The look in his eyes told me two things: firstly, that he felt it too, and secondly, that it had been me he was searching for in the crowd all night.

Jump.

I took one step in his direction and then, so fast my mind hadn’t even registered that he was moving, he’d closed the distance and was there in front of me, a breath away.

“Princess,” he whispered, a hand coming up to stroke the side of my face.

“Caveman,” I breathed back, leaning into his touch.

I felt his smile against my lips the instant before his mouth was on mine, our arms twining around each other simultaneously. I clung to him tightly as our mouths devoured one another, as if it had been months rather than hours since we’d last been together. His hands were everywhere: tangling in my hair, caressing my shoulders, sliding down my back to rest on my hips and pulling me tight against his front so every line of our bodies melded together.

And as I lost myself in his touch, I didn’t care about the other girls or the fact that we’d never talked about labels or feelings or terms. Because he was Finn, and I was Brooklyn, and in that moment nothing else mattered.

I was home.

I’m not sure how long we stood there, locked together in our own little world, before the catcalls and whispers of the crowd around us broke into my consciousness.

“I think he just got you pregnant,” Lexi’s voice called from somewhere behind me. My lips broke away from Finn’s and I twisted to look over my shoulder at her.

“I mean, seriously, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she continued, her expression reflective. “I may have had an orgasm just watching.”

Tyler, who was standing by her side, burst out laughing and pulled her into his arms.

“Lex,” I said, giggling. “You need to get out more.”

I detangled my hands from where they were wrapped around Finn’s neck and looked up into his eyes.

“Hey,” I said, smiling.

“You came,” he grinned back at me.

“I told you I would.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “I just figured you’d have found a way to talk yourself out of this by now.”

“Well, fine,” I huffed. “I’ll just leave if that’s what you were expecting,”

I tried to pull away from him. His arms, still wrapped around me from our kiss, didn’t buckle or even loosen as I struggled against his hold.

“Stop fighting me, princess,” Finn said, his voice low. “It’ll be a lot easier for both of us if you quit running away from this and inventing reasons to be mad at me.”

“I’m not running and I’m not inventing anything,” I snapped, even though I kind of was.

“Bee.”

“What.” I barked the word, staring at his chin so I wouldn’t have to see the look in his eyes.

“I’m happy you came.”

I sighed and, just like that, the anger I was trying so hard to hold onto slipped away. Anger was easy – I could deal with rage, or hate, or indifference. It was these new emotions, the ones I was too afraid to even put a name to, that I was struggling to cope with.

Lifting my eyes, I met his gaze, which was warm and full of amusement.

“This isn’t going to be easy, you know,” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “This?”

“Us,” I choked out, nearly stuttering over the word.

He smiled and the dimple in his right cheek popped out.

“The good things – the things that are really worth it – usually never are,” he replied, hooking one arm around my shoulder and steering us toward the bar. “Now let’s get a drink.”

“Or five,” I added under my breath, swallowing nervously.

Finn laughed and squeezed me a little tighter as he led me toward the stools where Lexi and Tyler were sitting.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 578