Complete Submission: (The Submission Series, Books 1-8) (27 page)

Theo was getting closer, waving and trotting as if he thought he might miss us. I pulled Darren away and tried to shoot Theo a warning look. I wasn’t a praying person, but I prayed there would be no fights. No accusatory words. No defenses. No excuses. I shoved Darren into the passenger side just as Theo reached us.

“Lassie...” he said.

“Back up, Theo.” I strode to my side of the car.

“I have feelings about it too. I stopped her from jumping off the Ferris wheel.”

“I’ll let you know when we have the funeral if you have the balls to come,” I said as I opened the door.

“You’re the one who betrayed her. You did that scratch track without her.”

I slammed the door before Darren could hear another word.

“I’m going to kill him,” Darren said.

“Not today.”

I knew that I had a limited time to figure it all out. I felt the thoughts I didn’t want to have push against the defensive wall that kept me functioning. I needed that wall. It was the percussion section, keeping the beat, organizing the symphony of reactions and decisions that needed to happen. Without it, the whole piece was going to shit.

I pulled out of the parking lot. Theo got small in my rearview. “We need to make arrangements,” I said. “Are you up for it, or am I driving you home?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you have money?”

He shook his head. “There was a life insurance policy. For both of us. In case. I checked it when she tried the last time.”

“Okay. Let’s take care of it. Then, I don’t know.” I took his hand at the red light. “Let’s just keep our shit together until the sun goes down.”

“Then what?”

“We fall apart.”

We made it home before sunset. The funeral home had dealt with worse, and we did what the grieved often did. We dumped everything in their lap and let them tell us what we had to do. Darren signed the forms to allow them to retrieve the body. We let them arrange a cremation. There would be no big funeral, no open casket, just a thing at my house. I didn’t know what you called such a thing, but the funeral director seemed to know and nodded, letting it slide.

Then we ran back to my house and made phone calls, sprawled on the couch together. I’d called three people I knew weren’t around, leaving messages and moving on, when I heard Darren weeping Adam’s name into his phone. I felt glad enough to leave him alone. He needed someone besides me. He’d lost his sister, his only family. He deserved to have someone else to love him.

But my gladness was shouted down by something darker, more insidious, more selfish. A deep, evil stab of loneliness that I would have done best to ignore. I should have stayed in the living room to have Darren’s warm body next to me, but he needed to be alone. He wouldn’t want to go to Gabby’s room, and I didn’t feel right forcing him onto the porch. So I slipped into my room, crawled under the covers and hugged my pillow, wondering who was going to braid my hair tomorrow.

I
 texted Debbie, asking for a few days off and explaining that my best friend had died. She called, but I rejected it. I got dinged and blooped and buzzed a hundred times over by everyone we had ever known. I answered some, thanking people for their condolences, but I just wanted to be left alone, so I shut off the phone and cocooned myself under the covers.

I got out of bed the next night. The house was empty. I showered, ate a few crackers, and went back to bed.

I turned my phone back on, under the covers, and scrolled through all the kind words and long messages. I resented them. I was grateful for them. I wanted to be around people and eviscerate the longing lonely hole in my body. I earned the isolation and wanted nothing to do with another living soul. Fuck everybody. I needed them. I hated them.

I tried to remember things about my friend, nice stories to cheer me under the dark, damp covers, but my brain wouldn’t jog anything loose. I could only remember our most hackneyed scenes. Graduation day. The last time I had seen her, the last time I spoke to her. Everything else was scorched earth, as if it had never happened, or like some mature, godly part of me was protecting the weak, repellent part of me from more hurt by refusing to release painful data.

Someone knocked on the door at some point, maybe just some delivery person, but it woke me up. I scrolled through my messages.
So sorry/That’s terrible/Can I bring you something to eat?
Et cetera, et cetera. Everyone was so sweet, but I didn’t know how to accept their kindness. The phone vibrated in my hand, and though I’d been ignoring it for however many hours, I looked at this message.

—Debbie told me—

I didn’t know how to respond to Jonathan. We weren’t in a place in our relationship where I could ask him for anything or expect him to intuit what I needed. His text made me feel lonelier than any other. I answered, feeling as if I were shouting down an empty alley.

—Tell her I’m going to work day after tomorrow—

—What are you doing now?—

—I’m under my covers—

—Alone?—

—y—

—A crime—

I smiled, and the feeling of levity cracked the brittle shell of sorrow, if only for a second, and tears streamed down my face.

—Don’t make me laugh, fuckhead—

—May I join you under those lucky covers?—

When I read the message, I didn’t feel his request in my loins, but on my skin. I wanted him to touch me. Kiss me. Breathe on me. Talk to me. Hold me for hours. The desire wasn’t just between my legs, but in my rib cage, my marrow, my fingertips. Could I give up the consuming protection of loneliness and indulge in a few hours with Jonathan? Was I worthy of a little comfort? Probably not. And I hadn’t forgotten the submissive thing. No. He was going to drag me into a pit of defilement and humiliation. Seeing him would only draw him closer to me than he should be, ever.

I texted:

—I need you—

I hit send. I shouldn’t have. I should have made a much cooler, distant statement. At the very least, I should have been witty in admitting I was a filthy, repugnant mess of need. But I didn’t. Three words and I’d debased myself.

I felt hopeful for the first time in days. I got out of bed and crawled into the shower, setting it for hotter than it needed to be. I had no idea how long I’d been in bed, but it was seven in the morning according to my clock. I hadn’t seen or heard from Darren, and I assumed he was with Adam. I should have called him, but the idea of reaching out, even to the only person in the world who would understand my sense of failure, made me flinch as if my face would get slapped.

My skin was raw and pink from heat and friction when I stepped out of the shower. I dried my hair and pulled out my brush. A twisted black hair tie was wrapped around the handle. Gabby had put it there when she worked on my hair for the Eclipse show. I put my palm on my wet hair and stroked downward, curling my fingers to gather a strand, just enough to string a bow. The sensation was nothing like when Gabby did it with her care and artistry. And all that was gone. All that talent went into the nothing and nowhere. All the music she would have made would never exist.

I hurled myself under the covers, naked and half wet, grabbing my phone on the way.

—don’t come nevermind—

I heard a phone ding from the living room and, soon after, a voice so close it shocked me.

“Too late,” Jonathan said. “Your front door was open.”

—go away—

A blast of cold air hit me as the covers were moved, and in the next breath, I caught his new scent. He pulled the covers over us just as his phone dinged. He pressed his front to my back, spooning me, his clothes taking on the dampness I hadn’t gotten around to toweling off.

“I’m sorry, Monica.” He put his face in my wet hair and draped his arm around me. Ah. What’s this text I have here? It says
go away
.”

I sniffled.

He slid his arm under my neck and held the phone in front of our faces with both hands. His breath tickled my ear. “Let me text back. Hang on.”

—I’d rather be here for you—

I waited for it to appear on my phone. He nuzzled into the hair pooling at the back of my neck as I typed back.

—And then what?—

His fingers flew across the glass.

—And let’s talk about the rest later. Today, you are the goddess my universe revolves around.—

In the seconds it took my phone to bloop, I had a million thoughts, not the least of which was that he was crazy. Out of his mind. Didn’t he see who he was curled against? For fuck’s sake, I’d killed my best friend, first with carelessness and then with ambition.

I started texting back:

—you have the wrong....

But then I felt his lips on my shoulder and his warm breath on my skin, and my sorrow dropped out of me. I couldn’t finish. My chest hitched and heaved, and the tears came so hard I couldn’t breathe. His arms held me tight from behind, and his voice twisted itself into little nothings of comfort. I went into a timeless blackness where I let everything spill out, because he’d catch it. I knew in every cough and sob, every hitched breath and chest spasm, that he’d hold me together. Whatever fell apart, he’d put right. I couldn’t curse him for not being everything I needed or failing to commit to me completely. I didn’t have space to reject his idea that I was submissive or the will to deny him control over me. He was there, and he was exactly what I needed.

When the crying slowed, I turned to face him. In the dark, I found his lips by following his breath and kissed him. He opened his mouth, stroking my tongue with his in a gentle dance. I wove my legs into his.

“Thank you,” I whispered, breathing it without a voice.

He started to answer, but I kissed away whatever came next. I pushed my hips into him. He was hard, and I was ready. I kissed him again, so I wouldn’t hear any objections when I pulled his shirt from his waistband. I wanted him naked against me. I wanted to feel good, if only for a minute, and to forget everything for as long as it took us to bind together and fall apart. I hadn’t earned it, but I wanted it.

A little light went on under the covers, and a bloop preceded a ding, but we ignored it. He rolled on top of me, mouth attached to mine, and stroked the length of my body. I gasped. The touch was so comforting, so distracting, a bow suddenly dragged across silent strings.

“Hello? Mon?” The voice sounded far away.

Jonathan and I separated.

“What was that?” Jonathan asked.

I twisted around. My phone was lit up under me. I must have rolled on top of it and answered the call by accident. Too late to reject the call.

“Hello? Darren?” I whispered. For some reason, I couldn’t engage my vocal cords.

“I’m downtown.”

Jonathan pulled the covers off us, and the light seemed as blinding as the air was cold. I already missed his warmth on my body.

“I need you to post bail, or I’m going to miss the wake.” He sounded dead, emotionless. “I found Theo. I hurt him. There are bail places all around here. So can you come?”

“Yes, I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

I glanced at Jonathan as Darren started giving me the details. He was still fully clothed in a blue polo shirt and jeans, sitting up against the wall. I was naked and crouched beside him. He stroked my shoulder.

“What happened?” he asked when I clicked off.

“Darren beat up Gabby’s boyfriend. I have to bail him out.”

“Why are you whispering?”

I shrugged. I had no idea. All I knew was, I could whisper fine, but I couldn’t speak out loud.

“You’re not speaking at the wake, I guess?”

I shook my head.

“Where’s it going to be?”

“Here.”

He looked at his watch. “In seven hours? Are you prepared? How many people?”

“It’s tomorrow.”

“Debbie said it was Saturday. Today.”

Oh God. Darren had said he’d miss the wake, and I thought he meant he’d miss it tomorrow. How long had I been under the covers? Had I slept more than I thought? I stood up, panicked. It was Saturday. I had to put out food. Clean the house. Make myself emotionally presentable. And I had to bail Darren out of jail? With what money? And what time?

I must have been a sight, naked in the middle of my room, hands out, not knowing what to do first. Jonathan got up and grabbed my wrists. I had no words.

“Calm down.”

I nodded.

“I’m going to take care of it.”

“No,” I whispered. “It’s my job.”

He held my hands, pressing them together between his palms. He spoke in the voice that broached no questions, but he didn’t tell me to spread my legs or come. “I have to work for a few hours today. I’ll send a crew here to clean up, and I’ll get food in. How many people?”

“Jonathan. Please. I don’t want it to be like this, like I’m using you.”

“You’re not using me. You’re mine. You are my own personal goddess. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy. And if I can’t make you happy, I won’t feel right if you’re not taken care of as best as I can. So please, tell me how many people so I can feel right.”

“A hundred?” I whispered.

How was I going to fit a hundred people in my thousand-square-foot house? Jesus, what were Darren and I thinking? Jonathan squeezed my hands and brought my attention back to his face. He seemed unfazed by the size of the guest list.

“I have this,” he said. “I can take care of it between doing ten other things. Lil will take you downtown. I don’t want you driving. Do you have enough to get him out?”

My mouth opened, but not even a whisper came. Did I have enough to bail Darren out of jail? I had no idea. How much did something like that cost? And how was I going to actually take money from Jonathan? I’d get my mother to mortgage the house if necessary. I’d supplicate myself before her, promise to stay on the narrow path, and eat four tons of shit on a hot tar shingle to get Darren out in time for his sister’s funeral, but I wasn’t taking money from Jonathan.

I nodded. “I have it.”

He kissed me tenderly, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be in touch. Pick up the phone, okay?”

I nodded because I didn’t want to whisper again.