Mad About the Boy (24 page)

Her heart went out to him. He looked tired, rumpled, and his eyes were bloodshot. His shirt was unbuttoned, half-hanging out of his pants. “Julia?” He sounded surprised. “You came.”

She glanced over his shoulder, noticing a glass half-full of liquor next to the decanter on the kitchen bar. “I just wanted to say… I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you’ve probably heard it a lot.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I… Chris, I’m sorry.”

Chris nodded and stepped back for her to enter the hotel room, waving her in. It wasn’t as luxurious as the penthouse in Miami, but it was large and comfortable. She turned to him as she passed through the door, but he had already headed for the kitchen, she shut the door behind her.

“You didn’t come alone, did you?”

She entered the hotel room a little slower. “No, my brother Michael came with me. He went back to our hotel. He sends his condolences.”

“Do you want a drink?” He offered, getting out another glass.

“Sure, I’ll have a drink. How’s Dylan? I heard he’s in your care now.”

“Yes. Danielle’s done a runner. She was cut out of my father’s will, not that she didn’t get a good portion of my father’s estate before the end. We haven’t heard from her since I gained custody. Anyway, I’ll have to sort out a nanny for Dylan when I get back to Miami.” He poured her a generous amount of the liquor and handed her the glass.

Chris pulled out a stool to sit, avoiding her gaze. The silence stretched but for the muted tones of the television. She sipped the drink, glad for the burning sensation running down her throat. She knew what it was like to lose someone close and wanted to break through to him.

“Is Dylan sleeping?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice distant. “I don’t know how to explain that his mother’s not coming back. It was hard enough telling him Dad died.”

Julia’s heart went out to him. He needed her. He looked so lost.

“Chris,” she said, pulling her arms out of the crutches. She hobbled closer to him, gripping onto the bench for support, feeling a sudden pain in her knee. “Look at me.”

He was refusing to co-operate, so she took matters into her own hands. She forced him to look at her, taking the glass from his hand, framing his face, she ran her thumb under his eyes.

“I’m here for you.” She pulled him into her embrace.

Finally, his arms closed around her and he accepted her comfort. She rubbed his back, running her hands through his hair, holding him close to her heart.

“Stay awhile,” he whispered.

She couldn’t refuse him. For the first time since she had known him, he really needed her and she wouldn’t leave him. After all they had been through, being there for each other mattered more than anything.

That night, they lay together on the foldout couch, watching an old movie. Dylan remained asleep in the room. The New York City lights flickered through the darkness, the moon shining a beam through the expansive room.

“I miss him, Jules. I know I’m a grown man, but I miss my father. His criticism, his praise, the way his eyes shone when he… when I had achieved something big… I miss him.” He choked back the emotions, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Julia curled up beside him, holding him close, offering him comfort. “It’s okay to hurt, to grieve your loss. He was a big part of who you are, Chris. But he was so proud of you. He told me so when I first met him.”

“But I didn’t get the chance to prove my success. He always had a way of making me yearn for his approval. I really looked up to him, he was my idol. I needed him to be proud of me. I think the only thing in my life he approved of was you and I screwed even that up.”

After several deep breaths, he sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. Julia was mortified that she had never understood Chris’ struggles, or her part in them.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. Your father loved you, so proud of you. Whenever they interviewed him, he talked about all his kids like you were his treasures.”

“Really?” He turned to her, desperate for confirmation.

Dylan cried out and Chris was quick to rush in to ease his distress from the unfamiliar surroundings. Ten minutes later, he came back out, lying heavily back onto the springy foldout.

After the interruption, they could not regain their previous closeness. They lay quietly next to each other, staring up at the ceiling. Chris put his arms behind his head. She shifted restlessly and a tiny groan escaped her. He turned to her with a questioning look on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She clucked her tongue in frustration, reaching down to tug at the knee brace that was causing her grief. Burning the thing would be the first on her agenda, once the doctor gave her the all-clear.

“It’s my knee. It hurts. I’m going to take the brace off.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, stopping her from getting up.

Gently leaning over her, he made quick work of the straps, releasing the pressure around her knee. Lifting her leg, he pulled the brace free and dropped it on the floor next to the couch. She sucked in a breath at the tender touch, then sat up, bracing herself on her elbows.

He was so close, gazing down at her. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” she whispered, breathless, lying back against the pillows, glad when he did the same. The heat of his touch had awakened her body from a long dream. She missed his touch. She licked her lips, the fluttering in her belly burning deep.

Chris took her hand between his, rolling to face her. She felt the anticipation as he shifted next to her. His eyes lowered to her lips. The air went up a notch with delicious heat and all it took was his hand touching her thigh for her to move her head slightly to the side to accept his kiss.

At first she pressed softly,
savoring
the taste of him, and then as his mouth opened, the tip of her tongue stroked his. The sound of his groan caught between their lips. She deepened the kiss as their desire took over, all rational thought gone.

But then there was a sudden noise outside, a group of people must be coming back from a late-night party and were making a lot of noise outside the room. Julia and Chris broke apart, panting breathlessly.

“What happened to us, Chris?”

“One of us was ready to love and the other one wasn’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, fighting back the yearning desire in her blood.

“More than anything, but I won’t ask you. I can feel you pulling away,” he responded simply. “It’s better you go.”

Julia didn’t know what to do. She could see his grief so clear in his eyes and she didn’t want him to suffer alone. Yet she struggled with how to offer him the comfort he needed, so she left.

Chapter Twenty-Five

One of us was ready to be loved, and the other wasn’t. Chris’ words echoed in her mind when she got back to Miami. Julia didn’t like the feeling of guilt festering inside her. She knew there was only one person who shared the same experience with her. She needed Irene’s help.

It was raining in that tropical Miami way. The smell of fresh rain used to excite Carlos even though getting a cold could cause him serious harm. She didn’t know why that memory came back to her now, maybe it was because she was in front of his family home.

She paid the taxi driver. “Keep the change.”

Julia climbed out of the vehicle, grimacing when the umbrella wouldn’t open immediately. She was getting drenched as water pelted down. Steadying herself on her crutches, she gave up on the umbrella and moved toward the door of the house.

She fiddled with the pendant on her necklace, her heart beating in panicky rhythm. She pulled back her sodden hair, then rapped on the door, hoping Irene would be home. The door swung wide and she thought she might just faint for a second.

“Julia!” Irene stood back in the open door, surprised.

Julia had promised herself she wouldn’t cry. But her lips trembled, eyes stung painfully, and she bowed her head regretfully. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to him,” she confessed, helpless. “Please, Irene, show me.”

Irene’s eyes softened and her arms opened, allowing Julia to step into her embrace. The flow of tears shuddered inside Julia’s chest in full force.

“Oh, darling, Julia, sweetheart.” Irene guided her into the comfort of the house. “Carlos loved you! He would want you to move on. Let him go.”

“Tell me how. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose Chris. I’m scared that if I marry Chris, he’s going to leave me like Carlos did. At least when I married Carlos, I knew he was dying. Now if something happened to Chris… I don’t think I could bear it. I don’t think I could live without Chris. I wouldn’t survive it.”

Irene gently pried Julia’s fingers from her arm and forced her down into a seat. Then she disappeared for a few moments and returned with a full bottle of Kahlua Liquor and two small shot glasses. “It might help if you don’t hold your feelings in, darling. If you want to cry, cry.” Irene carefully poured the first shot and passed it over to Julia. “If you feel like screaming, scream. And if swearing helps, do it. And if you need a drink, take a drink. Now, I’m not promoting getting drunk all the time.”

She poured the second shot and held it up, while she continued to speak. “Carlos wouldn’t want us to turn into alcoholics… but it helps me every year to get a bit silly and remember my son. To Carlos!”

Irene downed the shot in one gulp. Julia followed suit, the creamy liquid burning hot down her throat. She coughed a little, and then once again burst into tears.

“It’s okay, darling. Let it out,” Irene encouraged, shaking her head, her eyes wide and also filling with tears. She poured them both another drink, and in unison, they threw it back, Julia spluttering again at the burn.

When she got her breath back, she admitted, “I was always so scared for Carlos. He lived so recklessly in his way. We always had fun.” Julia sat back reminiscing. “Today, he would have liked the rain. He loved to see how far he could go.”

Irene regarded her sagely. “You say that with a touch of guilt. Why?”

Julia declared helplessly, “I should have been stronger. He wasn’t well and he always wanted to go beyond his limitations. I should have stopped him.”

“But you didn’t, you loved him enough to allow him to enjoy his life. He was a grown man and he made his own choices. Julia, he knew you loved him. Now you are in love with another man, so you have to go and say goodbye.”

She knew that was exactly what she had to do. But in the meantime, she just felt like drinking a little bit more. And Irene was a good drinking companion. By the time Julia staggered off to the taxi, she had made a promise she knew she had to keep.

She knew it would be hard going to his grave and so she put it off. But when Boric offered to drive her, she accepted gratefully, unsure how she would react to the visit. She hadn’t been near the cemetery since the funeral two years ago. The memory of burying her husband was too painful to bear. So she stood by the grave, staying stiff as she wondered what she really wanted to say.

Boric respectfully stood back, allowing her the privacy she needed. He was wearing a
somber
black suit in line with the sad mood. But earlier he had confessed to Julia he was wearing bright pink underwear, making her burst into laughter.

Now the laughter was gone. She approached Carlos’ final resting place once again in a whirlwind of emotions. Her body twisted and cramped in physical discomfort.

The large marble headstone, engraved with gold writing stated her late husband’s full name, date of birth and death, and further down the inscription read: Will be greatly missed by his mother and beloved wife.

She read the inscription out loud a few times, feeling the meaning behind the words. All those times he had tried to prepare her for him leaving, she had ignored him, cutting him off to joke about some silly thing. She wished she had listened back then. Carlos had been her best friend more than a husband, so she had loved him in a special way.

“Carlos, you were my first love, my sweetheart. I loved you and will always miss you.” She wiped at the tears. She began to sob in earnest, making a terrible racket of noise. Crumpling to the soft grass, she gasped for breath, spluttering and coughing.

Boric’s welcoming embrace encircled her and he rocked her in his arms. He smoothed her hair back, whispering comforting words by her ear. The shooting pain in her heart slowly subsided. A sudden peace embraced her. She had finally let him go.

Boric pulled out several bunched up tissues from the front pocket of his suit. She took a few to wipe at her eyes and nose. He watched her intently and pulled out a few more tissues.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” She sniffed a few times.

“Oh no, honey, these are to get rid of this mess you’ve left on my suit,” he grouched seriously, crinkling his nose as he inspected the wet spot she had left on his shoulder.

Julia hugged Boric tighter, knowing very well he didn’t give a damn about his suit.

“Are you all right, honey?”

She burst out, “I can’t lose Chris too. I love him.”

Boric stood up and reached down to help her up also, dusting at the loose grass on her skirt. Then he snapped sternly, “You won’t lose him if you stop pushing him away.” He gestured back at the gravestone. “Carlos wouldn’t want you to give up another chance at happiness. It’s time to say goodbye and move on.” He squeezed her hand and took a few steps away.

She gazed down at the gravestone and murmured, “I’m sure the angels are taking care of you. I have to let go. But you are always remembered, right here.” She pressed a hand to her heart.

***

Her roommates liked any reason to throw a party. And Thanksgiving was just the right occasion. So the three of them were organizing a party and it took most of the week. Julia loved Thanksgiving, especially this year. She had so much to be thankful for, despite her accident and the break-up. Meeting Chris was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she wanted to share her appreciation.

As the best cook, she was delegated to prepare dinner, and she was hard at it when she heard the loud
clippity
-clop of heels bouncing against the walls of the apartment. She turned to see Boric entering the kitchen. He put on quite a show, wiggling his non-existent hips, emphasizing the heel-noise as he did a runway walk towards the living room.

“Julia, honey, sweetheart, you’re cooking up a storm. It smells so good, what is it?” Randy’s sweet, high-pitched voice enquired from behind them.

“Turkey, you clown, it’s just turkey,” she said with a laugh.

His eyes winked behind the rounded spectacles with light purple lenses perched on his small nose. He whisked them off in one fluid motion and shoved them down into his bag. “Well, it smells divine. You are the best thing that ever happened to us,” he said, blowing her a kiss.

“I’m going to have a shower and get ready for the party. Are you sure all the invitations went out?” she asked in a rush, attempting to take her apron off. But it got stuck in a knot at her back. “Damn it!” She nearly popped her shoulder out trying to pull it off.

Boric skipped over to help, rubbing her shoulder in a soothing gesture, holding her for a brief moment while he undid the knot.

“Relax, he’s going to go bonkers for you,” Randy called out from the couch, looking up from reading the local paper. He had figured out the only invitation she was worried about was the one she had sent to Chris.

In fact, she had invited him to come over before the party, saying she wanted to talk. She glanced at the clock, desperate to be ready before his arrival.

In her room, she stripped quickly, undoing the knee brace with care. There was an unexpected twinge in her knee, a rather sharp pain, and pausing, she waited for a second for the feeling to subside. The men of the house had made the shower ‘Julia-friendly,’ as they called it, so she wouldn’t slip. They had even put a plastic chair on the tiled floor just in case her knee was giving her problems. The cramping pain in her knee should have encouraged her to use it now, but she was too busy thinking about what she was going to say to Chris.

She could hear Boric and Randy’s muffled voices and then the doorbell ring. She pulled back the shower screen and listened hard, hoping it was Chris arriving. Sure enough, she could hear his voice. She got back into the shower, giving a silent whoop of joy, over the moon he had come to share Thanksgiving with her. She hadn’t heard much from him since his father’s funeral. But now she had to hurry.

She was humming with pleasure, and pumping soap into her hands, she started to wash with quick movements. Suddenly, she felt that same sharp click in her knee, wincing from the pain. Julia held onto the rail to support her weight better, but her knee locked painfully. Gasping, she bent forward, nearly choking as water spluttered across her face and in her mouth. She moved her leg back and forth, trying to regain some movement. It wasn’t working, so she let go of the rail to rub her knee. That was all it took for the base of her other foot to slide on the tiles.

She screamed, horrified as both feet came up from under her. She slid in a heap, bumping her head against the rail. Her knee was throbbing and tender, still locked.

“Julia!” Randy rattled the door knob. “Open the door.”

“What happened?” Chris demanded through the door.

“I’m okay,” she responded weakly. “I just slipped. It’s all good. Hi, Chris, I won’t be long. Just give me a second to get ready.”

As more water splashed into her mouth, she started coughing. The whole situation had shaken her, and she was fearful she had seriously done something to her knee. She remained sprawled in the shower until she could regain some composure.

There was a loud bang as one of the guys tried to force the door open. Another two bangs had the wood splitting, but the door knob rattled again with no luck. Muffled swearing followed.

“How many times have we told you not to lock the bathroom?” Boric scolded through the door. “And if you’ve fallen, I think it means you should have used the shower chair.”

“Shut up, Boric!” She winced and moved to sit up, but with no luck. “Just relax, I’m going to sit until my knee stops hurting and then I’ll get up. I’m fine, really.”

They obviously didn’t believe in her reassurances. After three more forceful thumps, the door banged open wide. Chris, Randy, and Boric filled the doorway, staring down at her with various degrees of concern.

“Turn around, I’m naked!” she started, gasping for breath when water spluttered into her mouth again. She let go of the rail to cover her body and ended up sliding further down the wall of the shower. At least she kept her legs decently clamped together.

“All right, she hasn’t drowned,” Boric muttered dryly. “But she probably will soon if we don’t get her out.”

Chris was the first to recover from his stunned state and rushed in to help her up. Julia would have been more appreciative if she wasn’t completely naked, but at least the steam and water was enough to cover her for the moment. He slid the shower door open, reaching in to switch off the faucet and looked down at her with a bemused expression. She didn’t protest his assistance when he picked her up out of the shower and sat her on the end of the bath tub. She doubled over, rubbing at her knee.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” she whimpered, feeling her knee give a little with the movement. Then she called, “Randy! A towel please.”

Boric burst into a round of giggles, clutching his side and going for another round when he looked down at her. In response to her glare, he muttered brightly, “He’s already seen you naked, honey. And now we all got a good look, so no need for modesty.” He passed Randy her fluffy towel from the hamper, then leaned back against the wall, amused.

Randy covered her shivering body and she glanced over at Chris. He was trying to keep the smile away, but it kept slipping out. Finally her knee started to move with more ease, the short pain ebbing away. After a few deep breaths, she reached out to Randy for assistance to get up, but she was swiftly scooped into Chris’ arms.