When You Come to Me (13 page)

“Don’t let me go,” she told him.

“I won’t, Nat,” he laughed. "Relax..."

And after her struggle, they only waded, still holding one another, Brandon looking at her.

“Who were those girls?” she asked him.

Brandon looked away, toward the horizon, clearing his throat again.

“Sophia’s friends,” he said.

“And they know about me…?”

“Someway, somehow…”

“You talk about me like that?”

He looked at her. “I guess so…”

“Do you miss her?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Not when I’m around you…”

She pressed her fingers deeper into his back. The unfailing twists and turns in her stomach grew stronger each time that he moved his eyes, each time she recalled how he looked with those kids, each time she failed at an attempt to remember their friendship.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope that that didn’t come out the wrong way…but you just make me forget how I wasted three years of my life with the wrong person…”

“Everything happens for a reason,” she reminded him. And her hands found the hairs at the back of his neck, moving them up and down. “You’ll find the right person for you…”

He nodded slowly, glared at her strangely. She momentarily stopped breathing, as though she were waiting for the inevitable to happen. Her narrow eyes flickered across the different lengths and angles of his face, her lids heavy, brimming with a visual satisfaction that needed a release. Then, he pulled away from her all within seconds.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested, leading her to the shore.

They ended up back on the porch, with the sounds of the shoreline nearby. She unconsciously held onto Brandon’s arm, as they stood in front of the large, white rope hammock, suspended from the porch ceiling, swaying on its own. Brandon climbed into its web first.

"Come here, Nat," he murmured, pulling down his brown best friend with him. He rested his black head on his arms, and she nestled into the pit of his arm, the air, cooling their wet bodies. And the hammock swayed a little harder, the smell of saltwater filled their atmosphere, and the golden sunlight spilled happily onto the porch, splashing onto their skin.

"This is nice," she whispered, staring skyward.

"Yea," he replied, chuckling under his breath. "Sometimes it's good to just stop and let life unfold around you...just stop and take a deep breath...and forget the rest of world...you know?"

She nodded, and repositioned herself. Brandon squeezed her tighter in response and not long after fell fast asleep.

And, yes, that Natalie Chandler watched him ardently, writhing in slight discomfort in her closeness to him. But as the minutes went by, the sound of Brandon’s deep breathing soothed her, and the way the sun hit his face created a funny feeling in her stomach.

She sighed heavily, and the hammock swayed, and the cooling breeze blew, and she ached inside.

Was she the same naïve, country, sweetly ignorant Natalie Savannah? Not when she was around him, not when he showed her this world,
his
world.

She couldn’t explain the feeling she had inside then, hated herself for wanting to analyze it, place it into logical reasoning, instead of letting it be, instead of enjoying this sight, the comfortable, safe sight.

She
hated
it…hated the fact that he was beginning to mean the world to her, that her vulnerability prevailed, even in his peace.

She lifted her hand, touched his hair, felt light, felt life, and she hated it. She didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to care about him so much, and she sure as heck, with God as her witness, didn’t want to love him the way she did.

No good would come of loving him…

#

She was shocked to discover that Brandon could use a grill, recalling all of his failed attempts at cooking at the house on Trent road. She took her place in a white wicker chair at the picnic table on the back porch overlooking the ocean. It was twilight, the sun setting slowly over the expanded horizon, the rhythm of the currents slowing down, soft reggae playing from a player in the kitchen window. She watched Brandon, who looked comfortable in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a t-shirt, laugh with Scotty, who stood near him, a can of beer in his hand, witnessing his interaction with his roommate in a different way than what he treated her, listened to their sarcasm and toilet humor, took notice of the way he laughed more and more.

Sabrina, the redhead, sat beside her unwontedly, distracting her from her gazing. She placed a glass of wine in front of her, cleared her throat, and said, “You look like you need this…”

Natalie pushed the glass away. “I don’t drink…”

“Oh,” Sabrina said, retrieving the glass. “Not at all?”

“I’m only nineteen,” Natalie told her.

“All the better reason,” she said to her, pushing the glass back in front of her. “You’re young…live it up…”

Natalie pushed the glass away. “Not in this lifetime…cloudy judgment just isn’t my thing…”

She surprised herself at how assertive she was with the girl. She only wished Brandon could hear it. Natalie looked in his direction again, the smell of seasoned steak filling the warm air, and the music seemed louder, and this time he had a beer in his clutch, letting out an elongated belch.

“I see,” the pretty redhead said, following Natalie’s gaze. “Well…you know Brandon’s a big drinker…”

“He’s not that bad,” Natalie said.

“Well, not normally,” Sabrina began, taking a sip of the wine. “But after Sophia, you know, it just hit him hard. He had to have a drink all the time. It was scary, you know…you think you know someone and then…
poof
…they go and become an alcoholic on you…”

Natalie turned her attention to her. The breeze grew stronger then.

“Yep,” the redhead continued. “Sophia was the love of his life…I thought you knew that? Surely he talked about it with you?”

Natalie remained silent.

“He didn’t?” she said. “Well…I don’t understand…I thought you guys were ‘best friends’?”

Silent still…

“He’s still in love with her, you know. Told me just the other day…”

Natalie turned away and found it hard to swallow.

“That’s why it’s bizarre that he’d want you to come,” Sabrina laughed. “It’s quite funny, you know…the place that you’re sleeping in tonight is the exact same place that Sophia was suppose to sleep…how’s that for ironic? Or maybe…maybe she would be in Brandon’s bed? Girl-to-girl, she said the sex was
fantastic
…”

She couldn’t believe that she left in such a huff, and she hoped that Brandon didn’t see her leave.

But he found her anyway, seated on the darkening sand by the water’s edge, her brown toes buried beneath the sand. She quickly attempted to wipe the few fallen tears from her cheeks, disbelieving that she actually cried that way, and she got to her feet before him, his eyes widened before her.

“I was wondering where the hell you ran off to so fast,” he said, examining her face. “What’s up?”

She shook her head rapidly, attempting to move past him. But he stopped her, took her into his arms, brought his face close to hers, and said, “What’s up, Nat?”

She didn’t answer, only turned her head away, hoping that he didn’t see the redness in her eyes, hoping that her heart would stop racing soon…

“Are you uncomfortable?”

She hesitated initially, but nodded following as he rubbed her back gently.

“Why didn’t you say that?”

Natalie shrugged her shoulders.

“I can’t believe you, Nat,” he told her. “You’re going to let that bitch run you off like that?”

Natalie looked at him.

“Yea, I said it,” he laughed. “A
bitch
…I’ve always hated her…I should’ve known…”

Natalie laughed too. She hoped he understood.

Only if you understood…

“We can stay here,” he suggested. “You want to stay here? It looks like you want to just stay here…”

“You should get back to your friends,” Natalie advised.

Brandon scoffed. “Hell, they’re not going anywhere…you, on the other hand might, so I should hold you down for as long as possible…”

They sat down in the sand together, and he did something that she didn’t want, didn’t expect, didn’t need to happen…

He leaned in and kissed the side of her face, assiduously and she exhaled heavily.

#

He found Natalie the next afternoon sunk into the porch hammock. She was reading the book she’d packed, leafing through it swiftly as though she were embarking upon a desperate attempt to keep her mind from wandering. She'd left Brandon at the beach with Scotty an hour prior, and was rather startled when he stomped onto the porch and knelt beside her, forcefully stopping the hammock from swaying, making her roll over uncomfortably with it.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him. His shoulders were covered in dry white sand, hair wet.

He spent a few seconds attempting to catch his breath before speaking.

“Sophia,” he murmured, swallowing hard.

“What about her, Bran? Did she call you?”

“She’s here.”

“Here? Here, where?”

“I saw her on the beach.”

“
Our
beach?”

He nodded.

“Did she see you?”

He then shook his head. “But I saw her…saw her with Eric.”

“Eric? That white guy from the wrestling team?”

He nodded again. She put her book down and sat up, looking at him. He looked absolutely pitiful.

She wondered why her heart began to pound at that moment, wondered why his reaction over Sophia bothered her.

Then Natalie Chandler shook the sensation off as silly, cleared her throat and begun.

“Brandon, you shouldn’t…you shouldn’t worry,” she said, reaching back to push his hair out of his face. “They could just be friends…like you and I are friends.”

This gave her best friend a funny look on his face, and he remained silent. She couldn’t tell whether or not this expression was about her…or Sophia.

“They’re just friends,” she whispered, the breeze now picking up, louder than her delicate southern voice. “You made the right decision, Brandon…whether you think so or not…you made the right one…”

Her hand was still on his head. Brandon Greene nodded slowly, appearing slightly convinced.

She’d never seen him so shook.

#

In another hour, they were on his bed in their tight bedroom, his clothes now shamelessly thrown about the floor. A small window above his bed was cracked to let air through, and she was reminded of how awake she'd been the night before, reminded of how terrible his snore was, reminded of the hour or two they’d spent on the beach.

But, she lounged near her shaken best friend then, watching his silence, patiently waiting for him to say something, finding the whole ordeal darkly funny.

But, what could be said? Wasn’t he the one who ended it? How could he not think that what he did was the only thing that made sense? Surely this boy didn’t think that what he had with this girl was healthy? Did he not admit it himself?

She wanted to tell him so then. She wanted to tell him how frustrated she was with the fact that they were wasting this trip worried about his feelings for that girl.

So what if she came? What should that change?

“She did it to spite me,” he told her finally.

Natalie shook her head slowly. “I hardly think so, Bran…”

“Why wouldn’t she? I mean, she knew I was going to be here. We come here every year…”

“You shouldn’t stress over it,” she told him quietly. “So what? Look at what she did to you? You’re going to let her see that she’s still got you?”

Brandon threw his body back onto the narrow bed, groaned, “Natalie…”

“Well, what in the bejesus do you want me to say? Do you want me to say that I think you’re acting like a girl? Because you are…”

He looked at her.

“Well, it’s true…”

“I disagree…”

“Well, if not a girl…then a humongous baby…”

“Never,” he said, moving his eyes from her to the ceiling.

There was a knock on the door shortly following, and Scotty entered the room quietly, setting his bottom down on Natalie’s made bed.

“What am I interrupting?” he asked.

“Brandon’s lost his balls…”

Scotty laughed under his breath. “Well, I’d say that’s no good…I can venture to guess that it’s about Sophia?”

“Who else?” Natalie shrugged.

Scotty sighed deeply. Brandon continued to stare at the ceiling.

“But, I thought you were the one who dumped her?”

“Exactly what I said,” Natalie smiled, tapping Brandon’s stomach once.

“Well,” Scotty Kelly sang. “She’s downstairs if you want to talk to her…”

Brandon Greene sat up, looked at his curly-headed companion, and mumbled, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Is she with Eric?” she asked Scotty.

He shook his head slowly. “Nope, don’t know where he went after we saw them at the beach earlier…but she definitely came alone…”

Brandon and Natalie met eyes and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Do what you want,” she told him. “I have no control over what you do…”

Brandon nodded compliantly and pushed his tall body off of the small bed. He then moved toward the door, took one glance in her direction and left the room.

#

Scotty coaxed her into walking with him on the beach that late afternoon. They watched the natural golden light mark the current beneath it, heard the drone of a lone airplane flying above, saw a small white sailboat, skim the waves against the horizon.

She liked Scotty - more than she ever thought she would. His naturally funny demeanor had both her and Brandon laughing to the point of tears, and she enjoyed listening to him, a music major, talk passionately about loving melodies and harmonies and rifts and what he planned to do with it when he graduated. She’d also grown accustomed to watching him with Brandon, loving their interaction, loving the way that they picked on each other, loving the fact that Scotty was his voice of reason when she wasn’t around.

They walked a slow pace, past a chain of brightly colored beach houses. Barefoot, they walked close to the clear shoreline, the white sand, clinging to their toes.