Jack
The space is small,dark, and cramped. I’ve been sitting and waiting for what feels like a thousand years. I feel tired and thirsty, but I remember what it feels like to sit in pee for too long. My pants finally dried so I’m not going to do that again. I can hear that the grunts and screaming from the other side of the room are starting to get quieter now. That usually means it’s getting late, and we can come out soon. My baby sister will need to eat when she wakes up. I found packets of oatmeal in the recycling bin a few doors down.
I feel warm thinking about eating. I’m not feeling scared. Just ready to stretch my legs and get out of this dark hell. Something brushes my arm, and I smell oranges and cinnamon. It calms me. Like a scented warm breeze, it comes from nowhere and then surrounds me. I’m not in the dark anymore. I’m not sure where, but not there. I feel something new.
I wake up slowly instead of in the typical way, which is with a jerk or jolt. It’s quiet, the room the faintest color of gray and blue. It’s morning, but the dawn hasn’t broken yet. I smile as delicate fingers trail a path over my shoulder and down my arm, tracing the tattoos that illustrate a life I’m proud of living.Everly.
“You were dreaming,” she whispers.
I pull her into me so that all parts of her body can touch mine now. She’s so warm, soft.
“Did I wake you?” I’m always worried about falling asleep with someone in my bed, which is why I never do. Hook-ups make that easy to avoid. No explanations are necessary. My nightmares are unpredictable. The only constant is that I have one every night.
“No. You didn’t. I was too busy checking you out like a creeper.” She laughs. “Was it a good one at least?”
“My dream?” I hesitate for a minute. I’m not sure if I’m willing to share the truth. She senses my hesitation and pulls away from me so she can look at me.
“You don’t need to tell me.” She pauses and then leans closer, propping her head on her hand. “But I’ll tell you something. It's a secret that I haven’t ever told a single person. Ever.” She smiles so big that it reaches her beautiful brown eyes. “You’re in the absolute most perfect place to see the sunrise right now.” She sits up and leans over me. Her hair falls in my face and her breast is inches from my mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“Here.” She’s moved all the pillows behind me. “Oh! One more.” She leans over the side of the bed, and I get a perfect view of her delicious ass. “Now, if we shift just a little so we’re facing the back window, this will be the most memorable thing you’ll see in Strutt’s.”
We adjust as she says this, and I lean back, practically lying down again and bringing her with me. “I can tell you with absolute certainty that it won't be themostmemorable.” I shift my eyes to meet her.
“Are you getting sweet on me, Jack?” She laughs.
“I was talking about the views from your dad’s place.” I never find women sexyandsweet. It’s always either-or. Not this one, though. This one is both; mixed with charming and confident.
“Can we not talk about my father when I’m naked in bed with you? Thanks.” She pinches my side, and I pull her hand and kiss it instead.
“The ranch next to his is even more incredible. You can see those peaks from their roof deck.” She looks at me, raising a brow. “Never tell my father. I would never hear the end of it, but where the Muldowney Ranch sits, you can see that ridge right there, but from the other side, which means you can catch it at sunset. It’s breathtaking. Probably the best view of the mountains in town.”
The sky is getting brighter now. It coats the room in a brighter blue-gray than from just a few minutes ago. The sun is preparing to make its appearance. From where we lie in bed, I can appreciate the massive glass panels that make up the side of the pool house that hosts Everly’s studio. I can start to see the outlines of the mountains that frame Strutt’s Peak and its surrounding towns. The room is quiet with only the sound of sheets and blankets moving, and our steady breathing. In this moment, I realize how relaxed I am, even with the thoughts of my past currently at the forefront of my mind. That’s never the case, and I know it’s because she’s in my arms. She’s the difference.
“It wasn’t a dream.”What am I doing?“It was more like a memory mixed with a dream. Not a good one. I have it, or some version of it, every night. It’s never the same, but just bad enough to remind me where I came from. Today’s wasn’t so bad.”
I’m never eager to give anyone more. This admission is probably more than I’ve given anyone other than my therapist.
She shifts to look at me. Curious about what else I’ll say, but careful not to be pushy. I tilt her chin up to me and move to give her a gentle, chaste kiss. The softness of her lips with the small moan she makes is the kind of currency I wouldn't mind being rich from.
“Kathryn and I grew up in foster care. We’re not some tragic case of a bad foster system. Quite the opposite. We were adopted together. Our adoptive mom is incredible. Smart, loving, and exactly what you hope a parent could be like. I was almost ten and Kathryn had just turned five when we went to live with her and her husband at the time.” I pause for a minute, looking down at my hands intertwined with Everly’s. She rubs her thumb back and forth over mine. Such a soothing gesture. Seeing it and feeling her helps me breathe easier as I rummage through the guarded compartments of my memory.
“They divorced about a year or so after we were adopted. We never knew our real father, so not having an adoptive dad didn’t make much of a difference to us. I’m pretty certain Kathryn and I didn’t have the same biological father, but who knows. Our mother was a drug addict. I didn’t know for a long time that it was why she was the way she was, but I knew she depended on something more, loved something more than she loved us. Needles, powder, pills, and drinking. Any form of a high. All of it was more important than everything else.”
I look over to Everly to gauge how she’s reacting to my words. It’s not something I ever planned on telling, especially never to her, but she just looks back at me, without judgment or questions. Instead, she looks ahead at the sunrise, ready to listen.
“She wasn’t a good person that got wrapped up in drugs. There’s a part of me that believes she was always a bad person, and drugs were her savior. The universe stepped in to remove her from a world she didn’t deserve. Removing her from the lives that she only ever ruined.”
Everly just comforts me with her touch, not saying anything, but her eyes are glassy. All of this isn’t easy to say, so I can’t imagine what it’s like to hear.
“I did my best to keep my sister from the world my mother brought us into, but I saw everything. Heard and felt all of it. There was so much damage, sometimes I think of it as something I may have just seen and not lived through.”
I think that’s where I’m comfortable stopping. “So that’s what I dream about. That’s what she left me with after she died, nightmares that haunt me, and the memory of a woman who was too selfish to care for us. A life that I try most of the time to forget.”
I know her next question, so I answer it before it’s even asked. “I’ve been in therapy for my entire adult life and it helps. It doesn't erase anything like I wish it would, but I find things that help clear my mind when I start to think too much, or remember too much.”
She’s still quiet, and I’m starting to think I’m an idiot for oversharing with this woman. We just met, had some of the hottest foreplay and sex of my life, but now I’m unpacking my heavy baggage as pillow talk? Dumb. But then she looks back at me and runs her hand along my cheek. A touch of comfort, or maybe empathy. That hand caresses down my face and the length of my arm to my hand, and she raises it toward her mouth, brushing her lips across my knuckles. I’m too stunned by the sweetness of it to say anything as she looks back out toward the insanely beautiful view in front of us. The mountain peaks would normally be the star of this show, but right now they are merely the opening act for the color that’s slowly building behind them as the sunrise takes over. It’s rather poetic that I see streaks of orange emerge.A gift perhaps.