Dying to Forget (10 page)

He blows out a huge gust of air and sits down on the bed, next to the box. It’s a perfect square, maybe two feet on each side, the same amount deep. He reaches for the lid and his hand stills just inches away. I don’t think he’s going to touch it after all but then he flicks the lid off in a flurry, grazing the top with only his fingertips.

Inside is a large plastic
Darth Vader
figure, several matchbox cars, a baseball tucked inside a youth’s baseball cap, several postcards of wild animals from the San Diego Zoo gift shop, and a small
Bumblebee
toy…in car form. There are photo albums at the bottom of the box and some paperwork, as well as messy finger paintings and drawings that Mick and Sloan did together.

You can do this Sloan.

He reaches slowly into the box and pulls out each of the toys. He doesn’t touch the ball or cap. But he lays the
Vader, Bumblebee
and small metal cars out on the bed. After fingering each of them lovingly, he scoops them up using the bottom of his t-shirt like a hammock and heads for the front door.

In less than five minutes we are downstairs and across the courtyard standing in front of Laundry Mom’s apartment. Sloan is so nervous, I think he’s sweating. When she answers the door she is wearing pajama shorts and a loose fitting sleep shirt, obviously no bra, and I think she’s embarrassed that it’s him on the other side of the screen, judging from the rising color in her cheeks. Her son is somewhere in the back of the apartment, playing loudly with a toy that screeches like a siren.
How does this not drive her crazy?!

“Hi.” She glances at his midsection, curious about the bulge in his shirt. But she’s not afraid…
good
.

“Um, hi. I’m Sloan, I live upstairs…uh, we met earlier in the laundry room.” He’s trying to smile…he is so nervous.

She laughs and her short blonde hair bounces on her shoulders as she nods at him. “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Sloan?”

“Oh. Well,” he opens up the front of his shirt to show her the toys through the screen. She raises an eyebrow at him, confused, and both Sloan and Laundry Mom jump when her son squeals behind her legs. He’s peeking at Sloan from between her knees.

“Are those for me!” It’s not quite a question, more an excited declaration and Sloan grins down at him.

“Well, yes…if it’s alright with your mom.” He looks up at her, to see her smiling.

“Are those really for him?” She says with a laugh as she struggles to keep her young son from scrambling out the flimsy screen door. Eventually she stoops to lift him and props him expertly on her hip.

“Yeah, they used to belong to…well, I don’t need them anymore.” Sloan is at a loss for words.

Laundry Mom can’t hold onto her squirming boy anymore and she opens the screen, freeing him from her arms at the same time. I notice her ring finger is bare.
Single mom?
Sloan squats down and opens his shirt up once again to show the curious boy the small collection of cars. He’s most interested in the
Bumblebee
toy and that’s the first thing he snatches and drags across the ground. Sloan watches him with child-like wonder. I know it’s been a very, very long time since he’s seen these toys played with.

Deep breath, Sloan. You’re okay, it’s all good. He loves them, see?

Sloan nods slowly and stands so that Laundry Mom can gather the rest of the toys from his shirt. Her blush deepens when she catches a glimpse of his exposed abdomen and I’m sure she’s enjoying how low his jeans hang on his narrow and defined hips.

“Wow, thanks,” she says.

“No problem. They were just sitting in my closet. Figure your boy here can have some fun with them.”

“Oh, he will…I promise,” she laughs softly.

“Okay then, see you around.” Sloan backs away from the door and steps carefully around the boy, who is happily turning
Bumblebee
around in circles on the WIPE YOUR PAWS mat.

“Sure…on laundry days.” She winks at him, and I think she’s flirting.

Whoa now, calm down Mrs. Cougar. He’s at least fifteen years your junior!

Sloan laughs and reaches down to ruffle the small boy’s hair. The child looks up at him briefly and stutters out a happy thanks when prompted by his mother.

As we walk back to the apartment I feel something different inside Sloan…a lightness of sorts. I am sure it’s a good thing, so I praise him for being strong enough to go through Mick’s box and for being brave enough to finally let some of him go.

After Sloan climbs into bed, he tosses and turns for almost an hour before falling asleep. I wish I could sleep too when the darkness surrounds me, but I know there’s more work to do. Sloan has made a lot of progress but he’s nowhere near clear of danger. Not with that gun around.

It takes just over a week for Sloan to get into the habit of running every morning without my nagging him first thing at dawn. It takes another week for him to consistently put his dirty clothes into the hamper and not use the floor. I’ve been on assignment with Sloan for almost three weeks and he feels lighter, not as weighed down by his sadness.

Today is his day off and instead of turning on the TV and parking himself on the couch with a giant box of delivery pizza across his lap, he’s cleaning the apartment. Amazingly, this is not my doing. He has a date. Well, sort of.

Laundry Mom turned cougar is coming over with her son Gabe for dinner. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting when I spent three days urging him to invite a friend over to hang out. I don’t really like the flirty looks the single mom gives Sloan but she’s a person he’s willing to make his friend. And this is a good thing.

If I knew you’d actually clean your apartment for a guest, I would have tried to get you to throw a party weeks ago.

I help him pick out seasonings for the spaghetti sauce and remind him when it’s time to pull the garlic bread from the oven. Living with only my Dad for a few years definitely made me more of a foodie. I wish I had appreciated that back then.
Enough…not about you, remember, Piper?
I turn my thoughts away from home and back to dinner.

When a soft knock on the door is followed by a flurry of shorter knocks below the door knob, Sloan is sliding the rest of the chopped veggies off the cutting board and into the bowl of lettuce.

“Just a sec!” He hollers across the small apartment. It smells of lemon
Pine-Sol
and Italian food. I wish I could taste it.
I do miss good food.

He wipes his hands on a towel and throws it over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist. I catch his reflection on the glass front of the microwave as he walks by. His smile would send shivers down my spine, if it was connected to me still. The hand towel looks as if it's always been at home, draped over the top of his upper body…he’s getting more confidant in the kitchen, it suits him.

See that - you look like a bona-fide chef now!

“Hi.” He smiles politely as he opens the door and invites the expectant duo in.

Gabe grabs at his legs momentarily for a quick hug before running around the small living area, finally settling on the couch with his
Darth Vader
and
Bumblebee
toys. I can see bulges on both sides of his jeans and assume he has also stashed some of the matchbox cars into his pockets. He really is a cute kid.

“I brought some dessert wine. I didn’t know if you like white or red.”

Cougar Mom hands him the bottle of chilled Moscato and he smiles at her while he carries it into the kitchen. I feel stirrings inside him as he lets his mind wander. He’s actually imagining her without her clothes on! It’s even easy for me to do, since she’s wearing a very short summer skirt with a gauzy sleeveless top. The outline of her baby-blue bra is clearly defined. This is NOT what you wear to a friendly-neighbor dinner.

Easy boy. It’s just food. With a friend, remember?

“Thanks, Sandy.”

He smiles at her again, I can tell because she bats her eyelashes at him in response.
Yes, I know his smiles are ridiculously sexy, but get over it woman, he’s too young for you!
I scowl inwardly. I’m tapping my missing foot irritably and somewhere my after-life eyes are batting in mocked exaggeration at her.

***

I wish I had a dark corner to hide in while they eat dinner. The conversation is electric with sexual undertones from both of them. Sloan ignores my complaints and warnings completely, so I have no choice but to watch silently as the playful banter between the two unfold.

I know it’s been awhile, Sloan. But come on. She’s almost old enough to be your mom!

Gabe adores Sloan and spends half the meal trying to climb into his lap. At first Sloan seems surprised by the close contact, but he’s really rather good with children…and somehow he’s able to get the boy to eat at least a third of his meal, including three pieces of lettuce and a tomato wedge.

When Gabe saunters away from the table to sit on the couch for a late evening viewing of
SpongeBob,
Sandy makes her first move. It’s a subtle gesture but it ripples through Sloan like a jolt of lightening. I can almost smell the charred remnants of my imaginary hair as my head bursts into flame somewhere far away from here.

He is staring down at his lap, where her petite hand is resting just inside the top of his thigh while she laughs, in the middle of some story I lost interest in nearly half an hour ago. Back at the Station, my mouth gapes at her. I feel Sloan’s heart-rate increase dramatically and that stirring sensation roars through him like the Grand Rapids.

“And so I told him he couldn’t possibly expect me to carry that table out to the car
myself
, and wouldn’t you know, it took three men to get it into my little Explorer.” She laughs and I’m bored out of my mind listening to her talk about furniture shopping for her apartment.

Sloan laughs along with her, though I doubt he is interested in the story either. If he's remembered any of it at all. He’s currently preoccupied with Sandy’s sheer top. Her small breasts sit up a bit too high and I assume it’s mostly padding making her look that perky. I almost
want
him to strip her clothes off so he can be disappointed by her lack of real breasts.

“Want more wine?” As he stands, her hand slowly slides off his leg.

“Sure,” she purrs.

“How did you like dinner?” He is now in the kitchen, refilling her wine glass. I notice he doesn’t top off his own.

Smart choice, Sloan.

“Oh, Sloan, it was great! You’re such a tease!” She has turned in the chair to face him and he watches as she slowly uncrosses, then re-crosses her legs.

“A tease?” He balks at her in surprise…we both do actually. Neither of us having missed her Sharon Stone moment.

“You said you couldn’t cook! And this was magnificent. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” he laughs.

That’s because
I
was helping you, dork.

I try to zone out as they begin cleaning up the table and putting away the leftover food. There's so much intentional elbow bumping, arm grazing, and hand brushing at the kitchen sink I want to puke. It’s the first time I have EVER actually
wanted
to throw up.

The kiss is unexpected. He’s leaning forward one moment, sliding the clean plates into the cupboard and when he turns, her mouth is just
there
. A burst of tiny firecrackers seem to go off inside him. I feel lighter suddenly, almost untethered to him. I don’t understand the sensation and it freaks me out.

What the heck is that?!

I panic and begin screaming in his head.
YOU CANNOT MAKEOUT WITH THIS WOMAN WHILE HER SON SLEEPS ON YOUR COUCH!

He pulls away from her instantly and she looks up at him with large golden-brown eyes, surprised and maybe -
hopefully
- even shocked by his sudden withdraw.

That’s right, lady! Back off!

“Sorry…but…what about Gabe?” He looks over his shoulder to glance at the couch.

As the heat inside him slowly cools, I try to stop myself from mentally hyperventilating.

“Oh, gosh. You’re right.”

She smiles awkwardly before walking over to the couch to check on her sleeping child. Sloan follows her and I feel him warm up inside as he watches the rhythmic rise and fall of Gabe’s chest while he dreams.

“It’s late. I should probably take him home.” She stares at Sloan for a moment too long, waiting for a protest, maybe?

Send her home, Sloan.

“Can I help you?” He asks, gesturing to Gabe.

“No, I carry him all the time.” She smiles before tilting upward and planting a soft kiss on Sloan’s cheek…her fingers caress the muscles of his biceps while she slowly pulls away. “This was really nice. Maybe next time we can do it at my place, since Gabe has his own room.”

Her implication is not lost on either of us. I’m fuming.

“Okay, sure.” He agrees a bit too eagerly and then walks them to the door…Sandy with her arms full of Gabe’s sleeping body, and Sloan, softly chewing on his lower lip.

“Thanks, again. I had a great night.”

“Me too.” His answer is short and simple, but his voice is husky with emotion.

Oh crap. I think he really likes her.
Even though I know it’s very wrong, I can’t help but feel a fiery pang of jealously slice through me. It’s like a dagger to my heart. I try hard to push this feeling aside. I should be encouraging new relationships, not hoping to keep Sloan all to myself. It’s
not
appropriate, I know this.

Sandy smiles broadly, before turning to walk down the open hall to the concrete-step staircase, her shoulder-length hair swaying like a pendulum against the back of her neck. Sloan leans against the doorway, gazing down at them as she slowly crosses the courtyard. She turns to see him watching just before she opens her door and gives him a little wave. He raises his hand up briefly in return and walks back inside the apartment, closing the door behind him softly.