Tight Knit (13 page)

 His smile widens and his eyes darken behind his fringe of curls. I’m standing and staring like a total idiot surrounded by laundry, with nothing but the swishing sound of the washing machine to cut the tension. 

“Like, I don’t know, make out with the guy who has the worst Juvie record in town? In the basement of a homeless shelter? On a washing machine?” Lachlan says, raising one eyebrow. 

I try to swallow, but I fail and a bubble of air gets stuck in my throat. I cough and Lachlan laughs again. I really want to be mad at him, for putting me on the spot like this, but as soon as the word ‘make-out’ comes out of his mouth I can’t stop staring at his lips. Everything else forgotten.

“Come here, Hat Girl.” He is still leaning forward, bracing himself on the pipe. I hesitate and then take a step. 

This is such a bad idea.

“Clos-er.” He drags out the last part. Definitely a really bad idea. I take another step. My sneakers are silent on the concrete floor because the step is slow and tentative. My steps are the only thing that’s moving slowly though. My heart is racing, my legs are shaking, and my mind is spinning. 

Why does he always do this? 

He’s pulling me toward him with his eyes, his lips, his crooked nose and perfect teeth. The way he leans forward, the way his fingers loosen and tighten their grip on the low hanging pipe, the way that he slides to the very edge of the washing machine, all tell me he is serious. 

Is this how he picks up other girls? 

I take another step. I’m standing in front of him. I shouldn’t be. Both sides of my brain are screaming so loud at the other I can’t tell anymore. I want. I don’t want. I desire. I fear. It all happens at once.

“A little closer,” he whispers now. His knees spread even wider apart and I step in between them. He’s leaning over me and I feel his breath on my face. My arms are locked at my side.

“We shouldn’t, Lachlan.” My head is angled down. My voice is breathy. It matches the light but also heavy feeling in my chest, my stomach, my knees. I feel like I’m floating and sinking at the same time.

“I know we shouldn’t.”He touches his forehead to mine. “But I want to. I have to. It’s killing me.” 

I close my eyes, our foreheads still touching. My nose brushes against his. He leans further into me. I tilt up a little more and my lips touch his. 

I brace myself on his knees so I don’t fall. For a second I feel like I’ll faint, which is stupid. I’ve kissed boys before. 

But not this boy. 

Lachlan eases off the washer, hanging from the pipe until his feet touch the floor but his lips never leave mine. He slides one arm around my waist and pulls me into him. Hard. He increases the pressure of the kiss and my lips part. His tongue just touches mine. I really do think I’m going to faint when suddenly he stops. 

He pulls me into him again, pressing my head against his chest. I can feel and hear his heart beating faster than mine. 

Is he nervous? No, Lachlan doesn’t get nervous.

He clears his throat and everything in my body that was working at warp speed only a second ago stops. The feeling is like slamming into reverse going 100 miles an hour.

I peek over my shoulder toward the door to the basement. The director of the shelter is leaning against the doorway and doesn’t look impressed. 

“Sorry, sir. She was having an attack. Just calming her down.” Lachlan’s voice sounds normal but his chest heaves under my cheek with short breaths. My arms are still locked at my sides.

“Is she going to be okay?” The director sounds concerned but there’s something skeptical in his voice too. He has been director for years, so he’s seen my attacks and knows how Nan calms me down. 

“I think so sir, thank you.” There’s the southern gentleman part, accent and all. The director doesn’t leave right away so I wave behind me and will my voice to come out even.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute. Thank you.” 

As soon as the metal door clangs shut Lachlan relaxes back on the washer, taking me with him. He rests his chin on my head.

“Thanks. For covering,” I whisper into his chest.

He hugs me tighter but doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for a minute. Just the swish of the washer.

“Forgiveness,” he says abruptly.

This startles me and I try to pull back but I’m too wrapped up and he won’t let me go. 

“Huh?” 

 “The symbol. On the wristband. It means forgiveness.” 

My arms go around his waist and I relax into him. 

“For him, or you?” I wonder out loud. His dad had abused him, but he had also turned to abuse, just a different form. 

“Both,” he doesn’t hesitate. His voice is cold and distant. 

We stand silent for a long time before he leans back to look at me with those absorbent brown eyes. He lifts my chin with his finger and kisses me lightly on the nose.

“Hat Girl, what have you done to me?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lachlan

I really don’t know how I got here, but here I am nonetheless. Talia sits with me on Gram’s front porch. She’s one step down and sitting between my legs. I have my arms wrapped around her shoulders and she’s leaning on me playing with my wristband. I’m slowly getting comfortable with her touching my wrist. I really like that she’s not afraid to ask but never pushes. 

It’s probably why I’m sitting here with her now. 

I’m not sure how a kiss in a damp basement turned into movie night at my place in a week, but like I said, here we are. 

I don’t think I’ve ever had a movie night with a girl. 

“Lachlan?” 

I jump at her voice.

“What? Sorry, wasn’t listening.” 

“I said we have to set up a schedule for working the booth and decide on a theme for the Charity Drive, which means you have to come to the meeting tomorrow.” 

She glares when I groan and slaps my hand.

“I also have to do Math homework, a history paper and about a bazillion Chem labs if I hope to pass this semester. That doesn’t mean I want to.” I chuckle and turn her to face me.

She glares harder and I mock her, mimicking her movements until she smiles. I love that smile. 

Whoa, like. I like that smile. 

“You look like someone just slapped you in the face.” Talia giggles. I’ve never heard her giggle.

I do the only thing I can think of. I lift her up so she is kneeling and we are face to face. I cup her face in my hand and kiss her. It’s the second time we’ve kissed and it’s just as crazy as the first. Like my reaction to a tiny strip of her skin, I’m confused by the way her lips feel against mine. I mean kissing is great, but these lips are greater.

That sounds fucked. I didn’t know there could be a difference in lips. I’ve kissed a lot of girls. Some were good, some not so much. No one feels like Talia. 

She wraps her arms around me, and I remember I’m kissing her. I deepen the kiss by tracing my tongue along her bottom lip and they part. As soon as our tongues meet I am instantly ready for a straight up home-run, right outta the park type advancement so I pull away. It’s not easy. 

Her breath catches and her cheeks are red. For a second I think it’s cute how totally clueless she is, then I’m stabbed with guilt so intense that it makes me wince. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my shit. She deserves to be with someone who is easy, happy… not quite as screwed up as me. 

“Are you okay?” She sounds wary, like I’m going to tell her to do me or get off my porch. 

I go to answer, but my cell phone buzzes. I slide it out of my pocket, look and slide it back in. When my eyes meet back up with Talia’s her eyebrows are pulled together in disappointment. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what those are about?” Talia points to my jeans pocket and a grin bubbles to the surface of my face.

Too easy.

“Maybe someday I’ll show you what those are about. If you play your cards right.” 

I lean back and watch her face. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and slowly as she starts to realize I wasn’t talking about my phone her brows get higher and higher until her eyes are big ocean blue saucers. I laugh loudly. I shouldn’t do that to her but I can’t help myself. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Because you make it too easy.” 

She frowns for a moment. 

“No, I mean skirt around stuff like that. Why do you act like it doesn’t matter? I’ve seen the way you look at that phone. I just wish you’d talk about it. If not with me then someone else.” 

The switch has been flipped. I don’t want to be pissed, but I can’t control it. I hate that anger is my go-to emotion. 

“Because crying about your problems doesn’t make them go away.” I cross my arms. She stands and the hurt look is enough to crush the anger out of me. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean her.

“Low, Lachlan.” 

Talia turns and walked away before I have a chance to explain. Now instead of being mad at her, I’m mad at me. 

I need to chill out. I run my hand through my hair until the curls are fuzzy and standing straight up.

I want to tell her. The whole story is on the tip of my tongue every time I’m around her.
Why can’t I do it?

My phone buzzes again, and I want to smash it. Be done with it. With the drugs, the running, my past. 

Be done with myself.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Talia

I don’t cry as I walk home in the cold air. I’m too busy arguing with myself about whether it’s a terrible idea to get involved with Lachlan. I knew he’d be too much, but there’s something that draws me to him. Ever since the ride on the motorbike when he calmed me down. I just wish he’d stop hiding.  

I’m still distracted when I get to my front door. As soon as I step inside I am met with the concerned eyes of my mother. They are red, like she has been crying. She reaches out and grabs my shoulders. She rarely touches me and my gut sinks. 

“What’s wrong, Mom?” My thoughts are all about Nan.

Mom sniffs as she runs her hands over my face. I am just about to tell her to get on with it when she lets out a sob.

“What happened to us, Talia?” 

I freeze. What is she talking about? My face obviously reflects my inner confusion because she keeps going.

“To you and me. I love you so much. When did we fall apart?” She pulls me into a hug, and I feel like my brain will explode. 

Were we ever together enough to be able to fall apart?

“Um, I love you, too.” I pat her back and she squeezes me hard.

“You used to talk to me.” 

No I didn’t. 

“We used to do things together.” 

No we didn’t. 

I kick off my flats and guide my mom to the couch, where we sit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.” I really have no idea what she is talking about.

“I miss you. You’re always out. Sneaking around with that boy.” 

What? When did twice become always?

“That boy is no good for you by the way.” 

Don’t I know it. I laugh and Mom’s eyebrows sink. Her disappointment makes me angry. I want to yell,
I’ve been here the whole tim
e!
I never go anywhere and now that I have a life you suddenly want to be in it?

But what I say is, “Sorry mom. We’ll do something soon, promise.” 

I pat her on the head, which is something I shouldn’t have to do. 

“I love you, Talia.” She curls up on the couch, which is where she’s been sleeping most nights my dad isn’t home. This display of emotion isn’t normal, and I want to ask her about it. She is always such an emotional fortress. I wonder if she’s upset about Nan. I open my mouth to ask her but close it before any sound comes out. We never talk. It feels weird to be sitting with her like this so I stand.  

“I love you, Mom. It’ll be okay.” I want to smile at her, but I can’t so I just go to my room. 

I might not be able to talk to my mom, but I do want to talk to
somebody.
I stare at Janna’s phone number and the little button that says ‘send message’ on my phone. Habit. 

I want to text Lachlan to tell him what just happened with Mom, but I can’t do that either. 

I start to dial Nan’s number and throw my phone onto my bed. It’s too late to phone her with how sick she is.

I flop down into the reading chair in the corner of my room and my arms and legs go limp. I slide down the chair until I look like a zombie, sprawled out staring at one spot on the wall. 

I don’t know how long I sit like that but judging by the crick in my neck when I stand up–a while. When did everything get so...complicated?

~

My hands shake violently as I hold a large pair of sewing scissors I brought from home.

“Nan, I can’t,” I say between sobs. 

I’m standing behind her so I can’t see her face but her back is rigid. She runs her hand over her braid one more time and tosses it over her shoulder.

“I can’t either, Talia. I’m so sorry but I need you to be strong for me. Just this once sweet girl. Just this once.”

Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. Or maybe it’s because I’m crying so loud. 

I grip the thick grey plait in my hand and open the scissors. Over her shoulder, I see Nan tightly clutch the hat I made her. 

I close my eyes, and squeeze the scissors. 

The sound slices through the last thread of composure I have. 

The scissors fall with the hair, and the panic consumes me. 

~

When I get home there’s a card waiting for me on my bed. From Janna. About Nan. 

Sorry, is all it says. I’m so sick of hearing the word sorry. What a stupid meaningless word. 

I shove the card off my bed and fall onto the covers. I don’t know how long it takes before I cry myself to sleep.

~

 I still haven’t recovered from cutting Nan’s hair yesterday and I almost skip knitting club again, but my mom is driving me crazy with her total loss of emotional control. It wouldn’t be so bad if Dad would just stay home once in a while. She’s calmer when he’s there. 

“Talia!” Marybeth’s voice slices through my thoughts.