Impossibly Love (7 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Branden

     
I had insisted on not going home this
weekend
as well. But
when my father showed up at school in the evening, there was no refusing him. I
ended up leaving my dorm obediently.

     Pulling out
of the school parking lot, Dad started off his usual conversation, “How’s it
going, Branden? How are you holding up?”

     I answered
in a flat tone, “I’m doing alright.”

     Coming to a
stop light, he tapped anxiously on the steering wheel, fighting to say
something that was probably burning his mind. “Branden, your mom and I,” he
began, in a hushed voice I hadn’t heard before.

     I glanced
over and waited curiously for what he was about to tell me.

     Dad shook
his head, deciding not to go through with it. “Never mind, it’s not the right
time.”

     The drive home
was filled with even more silence after our brief talk than when I’d driven
with Mom. Both seemed so fearful of speaking to me, almost like there was a
secret other than mine they were trying to keep.

     I was eager
to burst through the front door and head straight to my room when we got home
that night. Of course, Ashton took me off guard the moment I entered.

     “Hey, little
brother, how’s it going?” he said, playfully clutching me in a headlock.

     Mom rushed
to my rescue, pushing him aside as if I was one of her delicate chinaware.
“Ashton, I told you not to do that to him anymore,” she scolded, checking if I
was still in one piece.

     She fixed my
disheveled hair and straightened my shirt. I grimaced, pushing her hands away.
“Mom, relax. I’m alright. We’re only goofing around.”

     Her hands
flared. “We all know how your brother
loves
goofing around,” she said it
sarcastically.

     Ashton
tightened his jaw, deciding to bail on the nonsense. “Well, I gotta run
—
Football practice for the game in Berlin Heights tomorrow.
We’re playing York College. See ya, buddy.” He jerked my shoulder as he took
off, obviously offended.

     I turned and
scowled at Mom right after. “Why do you have to do that? He’s trying to make up
for his mistakes. How can he if you keep reminding him?”

     “Why don’t
you go clean up before dinner,” Dad said, finally entering the house.

     Mom looked
at him with despair in her pale blue eyes, and I sensed the tension between the
two.

     “What were
you
doing?” she asked him as I followed orders, walking up the stairs to my room.

      Dad
staggered back a bit, then motioned for the living room as he answered, “I was
getting some papers out the car.” His tone sounded more like he wanted to say
‘here we go again’.

     “Of course,”
Mom snorted, following him to the living room.

     Their voices
became muffled as I finally got to my bedroom, closing out the war of words
that was certainly happening between the two.

     My parents were
definitely at odds, ever since I got sick last year. Dad became fed up with Mom
for working too much. Then once she stopped it was the other way around.

     That’s why I
hated coming home on weekends. It was quieter staying in the dorm and having less
drama, than going home to quarrels and having to lie in bed, glancing at the
blank spots on my bedroom wall where posters of my favorite hockey players used
to be. And after I had the MRI this morning, it was only going to get more
intense. The results weren’t very good.

     For dinner,
Mom made sure I had all the organic veggies anyone could eat.

     Dad
grumbled, “Jeez, will you feed him some meat at least?”

     Mom
retaliated with, “Well,
you
cook sometime then.”

     The
conversation around the table was mainly about my health and what they were
going to do to fix me, especially since I was going to need surgery again,
despite Doctor Henderson’s previous reassurance that I wouldn’t have to.

     Dad never
said much about it or anything directly to me. His final words before getting
up from the table were, “Don’t worry about it, Branden. It’ll all be taken care
of.” He was only referring to the money he’d have to spend.

     That night,
my chest ached intolerably. I took all the medication prescribed. Nothing eased
the pain. Sometimes it hurt so bad I’d end up in tears, and even start praying.

     My mind
drifted to Moya and momentarily, I started to ignore the agony as I kept my
thoughts only on her. I wondered if she’d ever stop being afraid, if she’d ever
give me a chance. How great it would’ve been if I’d spent another night at the
river watching fireflies with her. How I wanted to see her now, to have her
curl up in my arms and feel her warmth. To feel the intensity run through my
body again as I touched her hand. The look on her face assured me she felt it
too.

     It wasn’t
fair. That I’d have to force myself to stop thinking about her, stop desiring
to be with her. After this morning, being with Moya was providing to be even
more impossible than fighting to break down her walls. Perhaps it was a good
thing she kept them up till now. Subconsciously knowing, I’d only hurt her in
the end when it was time for me to leave.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Moya

     
Saturday evening, I went for a walk
around town
alone,
relaxing in the easygoing atmosphere of the strip near my neighborhood. Momma
was working the night shift at Thompson’s and Nessa was having dinner with
Calvin. I didn’t want to stay in the house a second longer, so I figured the
night air would be great.

     I had failed
miserably at keeping Branden off my mind. I kept thinking about him more since
I saw his face by the parking lot, how exhausted he seemed, and of course, when
he placed his hand on mine at the campus café. Branden left a mark on me that
followed me to Berlin Heights.

     I wondered
how he was doing,
what
he was doing, why he never seemed to go home for
weekends even though he lived in Harrington, and why he was so sad at times. I
even thought of what would’ve happened if Vanessa hadn’t sent me a text. How
far would these feelings have led me?

     Argh, I
shook my curls in frustration. I was so entangled in all things Branden that it
was practically like I was going in slow motion while everyone moved rapidly by
me on the sidewalk.

     The night
air wasn’t helping at all.

     I decided to
get French Vanilla ice cream and pig out at home while watching movies. That
would distract my thoughts long enough to forget altogether.

     As I turned the
corner to enter the store, I glimpsed someone looking a lot like Branden
leaving the Italian restaurant across the street.

     “Branden,” I
whispered his name, discerning I had to have imagined him. That I wished to see
him so badly, I was hallucinating now. Then I heard his voice, that deep and
comforting voice that shook me on the inside and I knew it was really him.

     Impulsively,
I darted across the street, not caring about the cars that had to press on their
brakes suddenly to avoid hitting me. Good Lord. Before leaving Berlin Heights
for college, I was hell bent on not letting anyone in. Now there I was, almost
getting killed chasing after a guy I was starting to like.

     Finally I
reached him, heading to the parking lot with three other people. I called his
name, “Branden.”

     He turned,
and a sudden spark went off in my chest. Branden’s blue eyes flickered with
delight as he realized it was me.
“Moya.”

     I panted,
trying to steady my heart. What did my abrupt gesture mean? I’d spend the last
few days trying to avoid him in school yet being so close to him at the café on
Friday and seeing Branden tonight had me in frenzy.

     The older
version of Branden cleared his throat and the classy woman standing beside him
asked, “Who is this young lady?”

     I scanned
their faces carefully and concluded that it must’ve been his family. Branden’s
dad had a stern, no nonsense look on his face. Observing him, I saw where
Branden got his striking features and admirable height. Unlike his wife, who
had healthy and shiny looking golden blond, Branden’s dad had salt and pepper
like black hair.

     “Oh, sorry,
this is my friend from school, Moya,” Branden introduced. “Moya, this is my
mom, Debbie, my dad Scott, and my brother, Ashton.”

     They each
lifted a hand to shake mine. I was happy they seemed nice, only a little
disappointed Branden referred to me as his friend. It ruined the reason why I
was chasing after him to begin with.

     “It’s nice
to meet you,” I said, focusing on Branden as I asked, “What are you doing here?
I thought you lived in Harrington?”

     He
explained, “Ash is a wide receiver on Jones College football team. He had a
game out here so we came to support him.”

     Ashton
chimed in. “How come I’ve never seen a pretty girl like you before? Branden’s
been keeping you all to himself.”

     I gushed. He
was quite the smooth talker.

     Branden
jabbed a playful elbow in Ashton’s side, his amused chortle a surprising
contrast to the awkward glances of their parents. Their body language seemed
odd, as if they wanted to leave right
away.                                                                                                 

     His mother
touched his arm lightly. “Branden, it’s getting late and your father has to
drive back in the morning.”

     Branden
glanced at them, and then looked at me with a frustrated look on his face. He
didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.

     “I’ll take a
taxi back to the Inn. You guys go on without me.” Yes. That was music to my
ears.

     His parents
exchanged worried stares between each other. Ashton was grinning broadly.

     Then Mr.
McCarthy took his keys out of his pockets and nudged Mrs. McCarthy along,
“Well, I guess it’s alright. We’ll see you back at there.” He nodded in my
direction. “It was nice meeting you, Moya.”

     Mrs.
McCarthy gave me a glance over with suspicion in her pale blue eyes. She said
nothing, turning to stroll off behind her husband.

     “You kids have
fun,” Ashton smiled cunningly. He whispered something to Branden and squeezed
his shoulder before hurrying off to the car.

     Branden and
I stood quietly as his family drove off. Now that I was categorized as a
friend, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him. Though, I partially caused
that on myself for pushing him away so much.

     “So, this is
your turf, where do you wanna go?” he finally broke the silence.

     I shrugged,
peering around us. “Um, there’s a little park over there. Maybe we could sit
for a while?”

     He allowed
me to lead the way, falling in step beside me.

     When we got
to the park and sat on one of the benches, I resisted the stimulating effect of
Branden’s spicy and masculine scent, not letting the intensity of the lavender
and musk get the best of me. “So,” I searched my head for something to say,
playing with my hands and keeping my eyes away from his.

     “So,”
Branden repeated, “you seemed a bit out of breath before, were you running to
catch up with me?” he teased. Damn him for noticing.

     I shook my
head. “No, um, actually I run on weekends, during the…evenings…as in for
exercise.”

     Branden
smirked, “Oh really? That’s interesting, because I’ve never seen someone run in
such stylish attire.”

     I stayed mum.

     He hung over
and cracked his knuckles while gazing at me. “I’m glad I’m here with you
tonight, Moya. I really wanted to see you.”

     I gulped.
Forget not wanting to let myself go. It had to be now. I had to tell him how he
was making me feel. “Branden, I…” I couldn’t find the courage to say it.

     He sat up
and waited patiently. When I wouldn’t continue, Branden shifted closer to me
and cupped my hands into his. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m alright
sitting next to you like this. It’s comforting.”

     I didn’t
pull away. And we didn’t utter a single thing up until Branden left me at my
house and took the taxi back to the Inn where his family was spending the
night. Not sure what, but Branden’s right. There was definitely something growing
between us.

Light flickered through the window
from the living room as I entered my house. Momma was home from work. She liked
watching television in the dark.

     Momma called
out the second I walked through the front door, “Moya?”

     “Yeah, Momma,
it’s me,” I replied, gliding into the room to sit down on the crimson sofa
beside her.

     “Hey, baby
girl,” she greeted me, rubbing my arm as I placed one of the yellow-orange,
striped accent pillows on my lap.

     Slipping off
my shoes, I settled my bare feet on the warm carpet and made myself more
comfortable. “How was work?” I asked,

     Momma
brushed back my curls as she said softly, “Not bad. It was a good day. Went out
with Nessa?” she asked.

     I kept my
eyes away from hers and on the television, where she was watching an episode of
Scandal
. I didn’t want to tell Momma about Branden. There wasn’t
anything to tell. Not yet. Not until I sorted out whatever it was that I’d
suddenly started to feel for him.

     “No,” I
said, glancing back at her. “Just went out for a walk by myself.”

     Momma leaned
her head while regarding me with concern in her eyes. She reached over and
squeezed my hand. “Is there something bothering you?” she asked. “People
usually go for walks when they have a lot on their minds.”

     I smiled to
reassure her. “No. There’s nothing. I just needed some air.”

     She relaxed
her gaze on me then, gracing me with the heartwarming smile I loved so much.
“Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here, baby girl.”

     I nodded in
a way to say ‘I know’.

     Getting even
more at home, I sat Indian style on the sofa as I watched the rest of the show
with Momma.

     It went to
commercial break, and immediately Branden popped up in my head. I wondered why
he hadn’t asked for my number yet. Then again, I hadn’t exactly indicated to
Branden I’d want to give him my number, when I’ve been so apprehensive about
going on a date much less. Still, he seemed so troubled tonight. I wondered
what was bothering him. Argh, why was I doing this again? Why couldn’t I snap
out of it?

     I should
clarify my feelings. I needed to.

    
Scandal
came back on and I zapped out of my thoughts. Then, I noticed Momma glancing
back and forth from the television to me, almost like she wanted to say
something. After hearing an exhausted sigh and seeing how her body tensed up, I
had to ask, “Is everything alright, Momma?”

     She
quivered, surprised. “Of course, everything’s fine.” Her enthusiasm wasn’t
natural. If anything it seemed like she was forcing to appear cheerful when she
really wasn’t.

     Momma got
up, tightened her head wrap and made sure her long curls were all tucked in.
“I’m tired, baby. I’m going to bed.”

     “You’re not
going to finish watching the show?” I asked, giving her a quizzical look.

     Momma
lowered and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ve already seen the episode.” She
stroked my cheek then headed out of the room.

     I watched
her turn down the hall somewhat in a hurried manner. Her body seemed burdened.
It could be she was only tired from years of working so hard—Lord knows Momma
worked hard. But something was off. Like, she was keeping secrets, from me.