“I wanted to save this surprise for when we get home, but I might as well tell you now. I got you a car.”
“You what?”
“I got you a car. Nothing fancy or new, but it will get you to and from home and school on the weekends next year.”
“Why do I need a car for that? I already have Chauffeur Chris.”
He chuckles, but it’s brief. His face gets very serious all the sudden and I get a pain in my stomach.
“Chris? Why do I need a car?”
He forces his face into a smile, then he grabs my waist and pulls me against him. “I considered getting myself a car so I could go back and forth from the dorm during the rain and snow without freezing my ass off. But then I thought I’d just buy the car for you and I’ll keep using my bike.”
He buries his face in my neck and I get lost in the sensation of his lips on my skin. I don’t question his response.
Chris builds a fire and we eat some roasted hot dogs for a late-night dinner. Then we unzip one of the sleeping bags and lie down in the middle of the campsite to watch the stars. Though Chris says all the right things and he holds me when I get a little emotional about my mom, something feels different. I can’t seem to get rid of this knot of pain in the pit of my stomach. This feeling that our opportunity to be Chris and Claire, the way we were before I went to UNC, has passed.
The next morning, we go for a quick swim in the lake. But, by the time we get back to the campsite, my backpack with all our clothes is gone. Luckily, Chris brought his wallet with us to the lake, but now we don’t have any clothes to change into for the ride home.
Chris knows how much I hate getting on the bike without jeans. If he takes a turn too fast, and I’m wearing shorts or a skirt, sometimes I’ll burn my leg on the muffler. Nothing serious, but enough for me to be leery of climbing on his bike in a red bikini.
He smiles as he nods over his shoulder and I climb on behind him. “I’ll go extra slow and I’ll be extra careful,” he assures me.
Something about his words, and the feeling of my half-naked breasts pressed against his wet skin….
I reach forward and slide my hand into the front of his shorts. He laughs, but he instantly hardens in my hand. I kiss his back as I close my fist around his erection and slide it back and forth. He’s still wet from the lake, making it a little hard for my hand to glide smoothly over his skin. So I move my hand to the head and massage the sensitive place just beneath the tip.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “Get off the bike.”
I slide off and land with a crunch on the dirt floor. Immediately, he reaches over and I laugh as he lifts me up onto the seat so I’m facing him. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard while I reach between us and push the front of his shorts down to release his erection. Then he slides his hand between my legs, pushes my bikini to the side, and slides into me.
“Oh, God,” I cry.
He leans forward and grabs the handlebars of his bike and keeps his feet firmly planted on the ground as he drives into me. I wrap my legs around him and rock my hips in unison with his.
“How do you do this to me?” he growls against my skin as he kisses my neck. “You drive me insane.”
I lean my head back and he sucks on the hollow of my throat. I dig my nails into his damp skin as he dives farther into the depths of me. He slides his hand between us and his touch is urgent, a bit rough, as he massages me, but it feels just right. And I come shortly after him.
He holds me tightly in his arms so I don’t collapse over the side of the bike. Kissing my shoulders and neck as he softens and slowly slides out of me. He kisses the corner of my lips, then he begins kissing me again; tenderly this time.
I chuckle as I push his shoulders back. “I think once is enough. We should head home.”
He looks disappointed. “I ….” He lets out a long sigh. “Claire, I got offered a deal.”
For a moment, I’m confused, until I realize he’s referring to a record deal. Goosebumps sprout all over my body as I’m filled with euphoria.
“That’s so amazing! Oh, my God. I’m so happy for you!”
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight. But he doesn’t return my embrace with as much enthusiasm.
“Aren’t you excited?”
“Yeah. It’s great.”
I release him so I can see his face, but he doesn’t look at all excited. “Chris, what’s wrong?”
He looks me in the eye for a moment, then he drops his gaze and hangs his head. “They want me to go to L.A. for a few months to record the album.”
Though the mention of a few months apart sends a shock of pain through my insides, I still don’t understand why he looks so upset.
“It’s just a few months,” I say, lifting his chin so I can see his face. “It will hurt, but we’ll get through it. Maybe I can even go with you. It’s the summer!”
He flashes me the weakest, most phony smile I’ve ever seen. And that’s when I know something is very wrong.
“It’s not just a few months. I’d be leaving on tour pretty soon after that … for eight months.”
My limbs get weak and my hands fall from his neck, landing between us. He grabs both my hands and we stay like this for a while, not speaking or looking at each other.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m thinking about Chris on tour, by himself, with thousands of girls screaming his name, throwing their bras onto the stage, offering themselves to him. While I’m bored out of my mind in a lecture hall or toiling away on a term paper in the dorm. And that’s when I know.
This is the end of us.
Forever Broken
July 14, 2012
Somewhere around eight-thirty, I gather the courage to wake Chris. We’ve been lying in his bed all night, his arms wrapped around my waist and his head resting on my chest. He dozed off around five a.m., but I’ve been up all night.
He lifts his head from my chest and squints at me through the hazy morning light. Reaching up, brushes my hair away from my face then tucks it behind my ear.
“Good morning, babe.”
I close my eyes and try to burn the sound of him saying good morning into my memory. When I open my eyes, his eyes are closed. Then he lays his head on my chest again and lets out a soft sigh.
“I don’t want to get up.”
“You have to,” I whisper, running my fingers through his dark hair. “Your mom wants to say goodbye to you.”
My voice comes out strangled on the last few words, and Chris notices. He lifts his chin off my chest to look at me, shaking his head when he sees me trying to blink back the tears. He sits up suddenly and leaves the room. He’s been doing that a lot lately.
I wipe my face clean and pull my messy bed hair into a ponytail. Then I head out of Chris’s room. I wait in the corridor for a moment until he comes out of the restroom. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of ragged pajama pants and his hair is sticking out in all directions, but he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
He presses his lips to my cheekbone then whispers in my ear. “You’ve broken me.”
I turn on my heel and disappear into my room, closing the door quietly behind me so Jackie doesn’t know I’m upset. Then I lie in bed and cry for the millionth time in the last six days, since Chris and I — mostly I — decided we should break up. I don’t think I could have imagined a worse way to spend this summer.
When I head downstairs twenty minutes later, I see Jackie has made Chris’s favorite breakfast: Denver omelet, bacon, and hash browns. Chris looks up from his plate when I enter the kitchen.
“You’d think I was on death row,” he remarks as he stabs his fork into a piece of omelet, but he doesn’t bring it to his mouth.
Jackie has her back to us as she washes dishes at the sink. I go to her and tap her shoulder. “I’ll do those.” She shakes her head, but she doesn’t speak. “Jackie, are you okay?”
That’s when she sniffs loudly and I k
now she’s crying. I wrap my arms around her waist and lay my cheek against her shoulder blade. Her shoulders slump as she stops pretending to be strong.
Finally, she turns around and kisses my forehead. “I have to get going. I know you two want to be alone today.”
I nod and try not to cry as I think of the implications behind her words. Jackie’s leaving to spend the day at Carolina Beach. She’s staying the night at an inn on the coast, then returning tomorrow afternoon. Chris will be gone by then. She’s leaving so Chris and I can spend our last day together alone. At home.
Jackie and Chris say their goodbyes outside. When he comes back inside, the sober look on his face is something I’ll never get used to. I’m used to seeing Chris with that charming crooked smile. The mischief in his eyes. This dark, dull look is not the Chris I’m used to. Maybe I have broken him.
We shower separately and he lies on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, while I brush and blow-dry my hair. When I’m done, we take Mr. Miyagi for a long walk around the neighborhood. I have to stop myself from wondering if this is the kind of thing we’d still be doing when we’re in our seventies.
We spend the first five or six hours of our last day together in silence. There’s really nothing more to say. We’ve spent the last month talking, screaming, crying, cursing. There’s only one thing left to say, and I’m not sure either of us has the courage to say it.
I sit on the sofa for a while, watching Chris as he tries to play with the dog on the rug. But Mr. Miyagi is either too tired from the long walk or he can sense that Chris is trying to say goodbye. He’s not interested. This is too much for Chris.
He stares at the dog for a while, lost in thought. “Why are you making this so hard?”
I don’t know if he’s talking to me or the dog, so I don’t respond.
“Say something, Claire. Anything. Just fucking say something.”
I cover my face with my hands and gulp large breaths, trying not to completely fall apart. The sofa cushion tilts as he sits next to me and gravity pulls me into his arms. He holds me so tight it hurts. But it’s not enough to drown out the pain in my heart.
I don’t know how long we sit like this, but sometime just before the sundown we head upstairs to my room. This is it.
“You know we’re both going to regret this,” he says as he cradles my face in his hands.
“I know, but I don’t care.”
He kisses me and my entire body relaxes as I lie back on my bed. This is what Chris and I are meant for and I need it just one more time before it’s over. I need to feel him moving inside me. I need to feel the weight of him on top of me. I need to feel safe with him one last time.