He was leaning against his bike, one foot kicked up on the side, arms crossed, head down, and only the moon revealed that he was there at all. He almost blended with the darkness. I guess in a way, he kind of was darkness — and I was just a tea light candle trying to illuminate him.
When I reached him, I slowed my pace, hesitant to get too close. From the way he was acting earlier, I wasn’t sure the purpose for his visit — was he breaking things off? Did we even really have anything to break off?
His eyes lifted slowly to mine when I stopped in front of him.
“Can I take you somewhere?”
I didn’t answer. I simply grabbed the spare helmet from where he’d strewn it across the seat, strapped it on, and straddled the leather. Rhodes climbed on in front of me and sparked the bike to life, and then we were off.
We drove for almost an hour, and I could tell we were a ways from Poxton Beach. When he finally slowed, we pulled into a small park, and Rhodes quickly parked before smoothly climbing off the bike and helping me do the same. He held my hand in his as we made our way to one of the picnic tables beneath a small pavilion.
The park didn’t have any lights, and in all honesty, it was more worn down than any of the ones I’d ever played at as a child. The dark red paint was chipping off the tables and benches, two of the swings were missing a chain or a seat, and the jungle gym was in desperate need of a facelift.
I sat on the edge of the picnic table Rhodes led us to, but he remained standing. He stared across the park, his hands tucked into his pockets, his bright eyes wider than I’d ever seen them before. I waited for him to drop the bomb. I could feel it, he was ending it — he was ending us. I wasn’t even sure what we were, but I knew with more absolution than I’d ever had in my life that I didn’t want it to end. Not yet. Not like this.
He blew a breath out of his nose, and that breath lay suspended between us. I held my own, afraid of tainting his, afraid of what that breath meant.
“We used to come here every Sunday when we were little.” Rhodes’ arms flexed, and he tucked his hands deeper into his pockets. “Our foster parents always had their card games on Sundays, and the house would fill up with strangers, smoke, and booze. So Lana and I would ride our bikes out here. My old house is right up this road,” he said with a nod toward the street we were just driving on. I noted how he called it a house, not a home.
“We would play around for a while, but eventually we always ended up on the swings. I tried to swing higher than her, and I always fell on my ass trying.” I smiled, but Rhodes’ expression hadn’t changed. He licked his lower lip and swallowed, shaking his head. “Today is her birthday.”
His words hit me softer than they should have because I didn’t quite understand their magnitude. I’d lost my grandmother when I was really young, but I had no idea what true loss felt like. Staring at his face as his own loss engulfed him, I was sure I’d never want to.
Rhodes was opening up to me, and it was such a rare occurrence that I didn’t dare interrupt him with my own words. I held the I’m sorry between my teeth and let him continue.
“She would have been twenty-two. She probably would have had a boyfriend or a fiancé. She always said she wanted to be a lawyer, the kind that are assigned to foster kids, so maybe she would be graduating this year with her bachelor’s. Maybe she’d be applying to law school. Or maybe she’d have a couple of years left before that. I have no fucking idea because I haven’t amounted to a damn thing in my life. I have no concept of school or goals or what it takes to make something of a person.”
I wanted to pipe up then, to tell him he wasn’t worthless, but he shook his head to stop me.
“And I was a complete dick to you today because I don’t know how to handle her being gone,” he said, his eyes finally finding mine. His voice didn’t break, but I saw how cracked he was beneath the baritone. “And I’m sorry. Because you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of the shit I give you.”
I stood then, wrapping my arms around him and planting small kisses on the exposed skin of his arm. He stiffened at first, not returning my embrace, but then finally, his arms went slack and his forehead fell down to rest on top of mine.
And that’s when I realized.
“If it’s her birthday, that means…”
He nodded against my shoulder bone. “It’s my birthday, too.”
A pang shot through my chest and I held him tighter.
“Every year on this day, I’m reminded that I’m still here and she’s not. I can’t even think of celebrating another year of my life when I can’t be sure when hers stopped. Or if it stopped.” He lifted his head, eyes on mine. “And the worst part is that I may never know which it is.”
“I know,” I whispered, pulling him in closer, just barely touching my forehead to his. “I’m here, Rhodes. I’m right here.”
He breathed in once.
Let the air out.
And then he kissed me.
He leaned back, sitting on the table and pulling me to straddle him. My legs fell on either side of him, my feet resting on the bench seats, my core pressed firmly against him. Rhodes gripped my hips and I fisted my hands in his shirt, returning the urgency, letting him feel the need. He bucked his hips to meet mine and the friction evoked a guttural moan from my lips.
I tried with every kiss to erase the crease in his brow, but I never succeeded. Rhodes kissed me and touched me and brought me to the edge of desire with all of our clothes still intact on a frail, beaten down picnic table, all the while with a pained expression on his face. He touched me as if it hurt. He kissed me as if it were the last time.
And somewhere inside my heart, I felt the demise, too.
Dale apologized to me as I cooked an egg white omelet the next morning. His dark eyes were framed by even darker circles and his black hair fell greasily onto his face. He looked like shit, and in a way, I hoped he felt like it, too.
He wanted to make up for the night before, even though it was really Mom he should be apologizing to, so he asked if he could take me shopping. He’d noticed my clothes were fitting loosely with all the weight I’d lost, and he wanted me to have something perfect to wear to Willow’s party on Saturday. Though I wanted to be mad at him, Mom seemed to already have forgiven him, and I loved him enough to want to be able to do the same.
When I reached him, I slowed my pace, hesitant to get too close. From the way he was acting earlier, I wasn’t sure the purpose for his visit — was he breaking things off? Did we even really have anything to break off?
His eyes lifted slowly to mine when I stopped in front of him.
“Can I take you somewhere?”
I didn’t answer. I simply grabbed the spare helmet from where he’d strewn it across the seat, strapped it on, and straddled the leather. Rhodes climbed on in front of me and sparked the bike to life, and then we were off.
We drove for almost an hour, and I could tell we were a ways from Poxton Beach. When he finally slowed, we pulled into a small park, and Rhodes quickly parked before smoothly climbing off the bike and helping me do the same. He held my hand in his as we made our way to one of the picnic tables beneath a small pavilion.
The park didn’t have any lights, and in all honesty, it was more worn down than any of the ones I’d ever played at as a child. The dark red paint was chipping off the tables and benches, two of the swings were missing a chain or a seat, and the jungle gym was in desperate need of a facelift.
I sat on the edge of the picnic table Rhodes led us to, but he remained standing. He stared across the park, his hands tucked into his pockets, his bright eyes wider than I’d ever seen them before. I waited for him to drop the bomb. I could feel it, he was ending it — he was ending us. I wasn’t even sure what we were, but I knew with more absolution than I’d ever had in my life that I didn’t want it to end. Not yet. Not like this.
He blew a breath out of his nose, and that breath lay suspended between us. I held my own, afraid of tainting his, afraid of what that breath meant.
“We used to come here every Sunday when we were little.” Rhodes’ arms flexed, and he tucked his hands deeper into his pockets. “Our foster parents always had their card games on Sundays, and the house would fill up with strangers, smoke, and booze. So Lana and I would ride our bikes out here. My old house is right up this road,” he said with a nod toward the street we were just driving on. I noted how he called it a house, not a home.
“We would play around for a while, but eventually we always ended up on the swings. I tried to swing higher than her, and I always fell on my ass trying.” I smiled, but Rhodes’ expression hadn’t changed. He licked his lower lip and swallowed, shaking his head. “Today is her birthday.”
His words hit me softer than they should have because I didn’t quite understand their magnitude. I’d lost my grandmother when I was really young, but I had no idea what true loss felt like. Staring at his face as his own loss engulfed him, I was sure I’d never want to.
Rhodes was opening up to me, and it was such a rare occurrence that I didn’t dare interrupt him with my own words. I held the I’m sorry between my teeth and let him continue.
“She would have been twenty-two. She probably would have had a boyfriend or a fiancé. She always said she wanted to be a lawyer, the kind that are assigned to foster kids, so maybe she would be graduating this year with her bachelor’s. Maybe she’d be applying to law school. Or maybe she’d have a couple of years left before that. I have no fucking idea because I haven’t amounted to a damn thing in my life. I have no concept of school or goals or what it takes to make something of a person.”
I wanted to pipe up then, to tell him he wasn’t worthless, but he shook his head to stop me.
“And I was a complete dick to you today because I don’t know how to handle her being gone,” he said, his eyes finally finding mine. His voice didn’t break, but I saw how cracked he was beneath the baritone. “And I’m sorry. Because you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of the shit I give you.”
I stood then, wrapping my arms around him and planting small kisses on the exposed skin of his arm. He stiffened at first, not returning my embrace, but then finally, his arms went slack and his forehead fell down to rest on top of mine.
And that’s when I realized.
“If it’s her birthday, that means…”
He nodded against my shoulder bone. “It’s my birthday, too.”
A pang shot through my chest and I held him tighter.
“Every year on this day, I’m reminded that I’m still here and she’s not. I can’t even think of celebrating another year of my life when I can’t be sure when hers stopped. Or if it stopped.” He lifted his head, eyes on mine. “And the worst part is that I may never know which it is.”
“I know,” I whispered, pulling him in closer, just barely touching my forehead to his. “I’m here, Rhodes. I’m right here.”
He breathed in once.
Let the air out.
And then he kissed me.
He leaned back, sitting on the table and pulling me to straddle him. My legs fell on either side of him, my feet resting on the bench seats, my core pressed firmly against him. Rhodes gripped my hips and I fisted my hands in his shirt, returning the urgency, letting him feel the need. He bucked his hips to meet mine and the friction evoked a guttural moan from my lips.
I tried with every kiss to erase the crease in his brow, but I never succeeded. Rhodes kissed me and touched me and brought me to the edge of desire with all of our clothes still intact on a frail, beaten down picnic table, all the while with a pained expression on his face. He touched me as if it hurt. He kissed me as if it were the last time.
And somewhere inside my heart, I felt the demise, too.
Dale apologized to me as I cooked an egg white omelet the next morning. His dark eyes were framed by even darker circles and his black hair fell greasily onto his face. He looked like shit, and in a way, I hoped he felt like it, too.
He wanted to make up for the night before, even though it was really Mom he should be apologizing to, so he asked if he could take me shopping. He’d noticed my clothes were fitting loosely with all the weight I’d lost, and he wanted me to have something perfect to wear to Willow’s party on Saturday. Though I wanted to be mad at him, Mom seemed to already have forgiven him, and I loved him enough to want to be able to do the same.
