Текст книги "Swelter"

Автор книги: Nina G. Jones

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“I've known Lil since I was, I think, six. Maybe seven. She and I sort of have a reputation of getting after it. I think it started when I tried to steal her candy apple at a carnival and she socked me. Hard. And then began a thirteen-plus year war that still rages until this day.

That girl has a savage right hook on her, ladies and gentlemen.”

Bobby paused as the crowd laughed. His tone changed as he looked to the floor, almost uttering the words to himself more than to the rest of us.

“Lil, the girl who was beautiful no matter how hard she tried not to be.

“And if there was anything I knew early on in my life, it was that Rory had eyes for her. He loved her before he even knew what that meant.”

I choked back tears as I recognized the words he said to me the night before. His secret message to me in front of everyone.

“I knew my entire life this day was inevitable.”

Bobby looked up with glassy eyes at Rory.

“Rory, you bastard. You're marrying the most amazing girl I've ever known.”

Bobby's eyes moved to mine next, but as soon as they locked, and he saw my tears, he broke the gaze, looking down to the floor. His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he masterfully braced for the emotional upheaval. He looked at me again with a smile that betrayed the melancholy in his eyes.

“Lil, take care of that man. He's a huge crybaby. And he'll always try to get his way. But he's only a crybaby because he has a huge heart. And people with big hearts sometimes hurt a little more.”

Bobby raised his glass.

“To you both. You two are the luckiest people in the world to have each other. I am truly happy that you two are taking this step together. I am. If there is anyone in the world whose happiness I would want before my own, it's my brother's. And so, today, I am the happiest I have ever been and may ever be. To see the way he looks at you Lil, I know this is his happiest day too.”

He abandoned the sober tone for a more triumphant one.

“So here's to summers at the lake, skinny dipping under the moon until we're 80, little Lightlys running around carefree like we once did, right hooks from Lil, and hugs from my future nephews and nieces.

“You two are going to have an amazing life together. I am so happy for you. I really am.”

Bobby paused for a second.

“I love you,” his voice cracking as he uttered the words.

“To Rory and Lil!” he announced, and everyone took a sip of their champagne.

The glass clanged again as my father took the floor. I watched helplessly out of the corner of my eye as Bobby slipped away from his table, out of the tent, and into the dark of the night.

I wouldn't see him again for seven years.

Summer 1957

“Sorry we're late!” Barbie announced as she scampered over to our table with Stan. “The twins were being impossible. Throwing tantrums before we left them with the nanny.” Her unlit cigarette dangled from her lip in a daring balancing act.

“No worries,” Rory said, standing to greet her and Stan.

Stan was a hulking man, especially for the time. He was about six-foot-four, with a large belly. He had played offensive line in college and his presence was noticed in any room in which he entered.

“Heya Rory, how's it going?” he extended his hand for a shake. “Lilly,” he nodded in my direction.

“Great Stan. I've been working like a mad dog. This hot summer is great for business. How about you?”

Stan, who was a good deal older than Barbie, was the state director for a local insurance agency, and he and Barbie lived with money to spare. Stan leaned back in his chair, leaking an arrogance that he tried to conceal behind a thin layer of decent social skills. “You know, people always need insurance, no matter what the weather.” He winked at Rory.

Rory nudged me. “This guy keeps trying to get me to go work with him.”

I smiled weakly, genuinely uninterested in their small talk.

“I heard your brother came back. Is he some sort of Beatnik?” Stan rudely asked.

“He's not a Beatnik,” I interjected in an annoyed tone.

Rory glanced at me, surprised by my reaction, before looking back at Stan. “No, he's not. He's just the kind of guy who flies by the seat of his pants. He fought in Korea actually, shot right in the shoulder. I don't think Beatniks do that. He's just not the type to sit in an office, I suppose.”

I was happy to hear Rory defend his brother.

“Well,” Stan snatched the now lit cigarette from Barbie, who harrumphed at the theft, “apparently, all broads on our street are gaga over him. They ogle him doing lawn work and the like. Turns out men who put on suits and work all day aren't appealing enough.”

I directed my eyes towards Barbie who didn't return the look, her eyes planted on Stan.

“Do I sense some jealousy?” Barbie teased.

Stan scoffed. “Pssst. I'm just saying what I've heard.”

“Suddenly you have time for neighborhood gossip,” she jabbed, snatching back her cigarette, the ash falling on the white tablecloth in front of them.

“Nah, that's just Bobby. It's been like that as long as I can remember. Something about him. He has to swat off the ladies,” Rory chimed.

“I don't recall you having such a hard time with the girls yourself, Rory,” I added.

“Meh. Yeah, I had girlfriends. But I was always chasing after you it seemed.”

We eased into comfortable conversation as drinks hit the table. I subtly monitored Rory, afraid he might rebound. He had been dry, at least in my presence, since the night he shot at the ceiling. I didn't know what he was doing on his business trips, as he was always a fan of post-work happy hour, but it was nice to be around a Rory whose blood wasn't tainted with copious amounts of alcohol.

Stan, on the other hand, drank liberally on this night. Not being a small man, he could hold his own, but as the night went on, anyone would notice his lips getting looser after his sixth scotch.

“Hey, Lil. How was Chicago?” Stan asked.

“Chicago?” Rory turned to face me, befuddled.

I had no idea how Stan knew, and I couldn't find the words to downplay it, being caught so off-guard.

“How'd you know?” I asked.

“Barbie mentioned it.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction.

I darted my eyes at her. “Bobby told me that was the plan. To visit.” She held in a boozy burp as she answered.

I turned to Rory, doing my best to downplay the impromptu excursion. “I forgot to mention. It was right after you left. He wanted to meet some friends and didn't want to go alone so he dragged me there.” I rolled my eyes as if the whole thing was a nuisance.

“Oh, that was nice of you,” Rory replied. “Whereabouts?”

“South Side.”

Stan raised his eyebrows. “South Side?”

“Yeah, to a jazz club. It was a lot of fun.”

“He is a Beatnik!” Stan jeered. “So you were dancing and jiving with all those niggers?”

Barbie pulled his highball glass out of his hand. “Stan, you've had too much.”

He snatched it back. “What? We're amongst friends.”

Rory and I glanced sideways at each other and shifted in our seats uncomfortably.

“What's the big deal? It's just a word. Anyway, were you the only whites there?”

“Um, no, there were a couple of others. That's beside the point.” I tried to shift the conversation, but Stan seemed fixated on Bobby being some sort of Beatnik who loved black people. Which I suppose isn't a problem, but his insistence on bringing him up made me uncomfortable.

“So is Bobby into black women then?” he prodded.

“What kind of question is that?” I sniped.

“Alright, maybe we should discuss something else,” Rory suggested. But I had had enough.

“You know what?” I leaned forward to get a closer look at Stan. “Some of those people you call niggers, served and died for our country while you were busy dodging.” His eyes widened. “Yeah, I know what your daddy did for you. Barbie told me,” I smirked, imitating the way he brought up my Chicago trip at the table. “They bled the same blood, and some never got to see their families again. Just so you could sit there and drink your scotch all self-satisfied and call someone you haven't even met a Beatnik because they don't work for some two-bit insurance agency.”

I shot up from the table. “I'm ready to go, Rory,” I said.

Stan and Barbie sat there with their mouths agape.

“Lilly, I was just teasing!” Stan desperately tried to pacify the situation.

“Fine. But I am still done for tonight. I'll see you both tomorrow. I have a lot of preparation left and Rory didn't think about that when making plans. No hard feelings.”

I stomped away from the table as Rory stayed behind to smooth things over. As I exited the restaurant he jogged behind to catch up.

“Lilly. You okay?”

“I'm fine,” I insisted.

“That escalated really quickly.”

We both slid into the car.

“What? Are you going to tell me what a drag I am? That I should just let the men do the talking? Because he was being repulsive tonight. Way more than his usual self.”

“What? No! I—I think what you just did was . . . it might have been one of the best things I have ever seen. Stan can be such a jackass. The shit he was trying to say about Bobby . . . and saying words like that at the table.”

“So you're not mad?”

“No! In fact, it's been a while since I've seen you like that. Feisty. And I don't know . . . just . . . wow.”

I smiled and locked eyes with Rory. And then I started to laugh, and he did too. I didn't know what came over me either. I never liked that kind of talk, but hearing what happened to Curtis and making friends with Will and Sasha now meant I wouldn't tolerate it either.

“Come here,” Rory said, tugging me forward by the chin to kiss me on the lips. Then he did it again, and again. And then he was kissing me like he could swallow me.

I tried. I tried to pretend like the passion was there. That I wanted his hands on my breasts and up my skirt. But even when I liked Rory, he just felt like a good friend to me. And I was scared to admit, something of a brother.

We ended up in the backseat. Me on my back, Rory pumping into me. All I could think of was how I wanted it to be over. How sex never felt like this with Bobby. A chore. Something I was purely obligated to do. That my body was somehow possessed by him to do with whatever he pleased. I was tired of using my body as a peace offering with Rory. I was tired of being afraid to hurt his feelings by telling him I didn't want him inside of me.

I couldn't go back after those two weeks. Rory sweating on top of me in this steaming hot car began to make me feel sick. Because I was being a coward. There was no grey area. I did not want to have sex with him. Not even after the moment we had shared.

“Stop,” I murmured.

“It's okay,” I'm almost there, he grunted.

“No, stop,” I repeated.

“Lil, just wait,” he ordered breathlessly.

“I said stop!” I pushed him off of me. He got up on his knees and slammed his head into the ceiling of the car, his erection pumping semen all over his hands as he tried to catch it. I sensed relief when I saw that he didn't come inside of me.

“God dammit, Lilly! What the hell is wrong with you?” He snapped as he rubbed his head with his available hand.

I didn't have an answer. Not one that would make sense to him. Not one I was ready to confess.

“If you had waited another fifteen seconds, I would have been finished!” Rory yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his palm. He knelt in front of me, his face contorted in desperation. “What is going on? Please just tell me. What do I have to do to get you to want me, Lilly?” he asked, exasperated. “It's like I repulse you, or . . . I don't know. I’m trying here. I really am. But it's like you look right through me, Lilly.”

It hurt to hear the pain in his voice. I felt Rory trying to reach through the thick wall of resentment to grab my hand. At least in his own way. But telling him the truth would hurt him more. “I'm just not in the mood.”

“No, it's not just that. You have me here with my dick in my hands in a damned parking lot.” He sighed in frustration. “Do you even love me?”

“Yes, of course I do,” I said.

“Then what?”

“I don't know! I don't know! I just didn't want to do it.”

“I'm lost here Lilly. Just tell me what I need to do,” he begged.

I scrunched my eyes as a rogue tear escaped. “I just want to go home, okay? We'll talk about it later. Let me get you another handkerchief.”

“I got it,” Rory retorted, kneading the soiled one against his palm. It didn't feel good to dismiss him like the countless times he had dismissed me when I tried to talk to him about my needs. But I really had no answers for him. I did love him when I married him. It wasn't like how I loved Bobby, but something was there. I thought I could have been comfortable with him. I thought we could have a family and be good parents. And I can't point to the exact moment where I lost it, but it was gone. And despite all that, I didn't have the heart to say those words to him.

I thought there would be a lot of tension at the cookout, but things were too busy for me to harp on the events of the night before.

Barbie came early to help set up and apologize. I told her it was water under the bridge. It was. I said what I had to say and I honestly didn't care enough about Stan to hold a grudge.

Rory stayed at his throne, the grill, for the majority of the party. Children ran circles around the adults, as ladies in breezy sundresses fanned themselves in the record-high heat. At the lake house, there had been a nice lull in the heatwave, plus the lake is always a bit cooler. But almost as soon as Bobby and I returned, a new wave came back, peaking in time for the holiday weekend.

Strangely, Bobby and I didn't cross paths much during the gathering. Sure we saw each other, but we couldn't be who we wanted to be to each other. It was peculiar. Almost as if the two weeks at the lake were a dream I had mistaken for reality. But the way I felt about him remained. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him as he chatted with various neighbors, led the children in some games, and assisted Rory at the grill.

Sometimes we would catch each other's eyes, but it felt as if everyone could feel the spark between us, so we would snap out of the gaze.

Here, I was the Lilly Rory knew. The one mostly cold towards his brother, and at other times indifferent.

As the sun began to set, Rory whistled to get the crowd's attention.

“I uh, want to make an announcement,” he said.

The guests looked around, as did I. I had no idea what he was planning to announce.

“Lilly, come over here,” he gestured with the beer in his hand. “She doesn't know either,” he hinted, delighted.

“What's this about?” I whispered as he put his arm around my shoulder.

“So some of you may or may not know, but I have been working really hard towards a promotion at Generate for the Lead Sales Associate in the state of Wisconsin. Well . . . I didn't get it,” he admitted.

Everyone looked around quizzically.

“I got the Regional Sales Director Position!” he shouted. “. . . In Minneapolis!”

“Wuh . . .?” I could barely connect the dots. How could he do this? Did he even consider this might not be something I wanted? A move out of my home state? But the truth was Rory didn't consider me. Maybe that was my fault to a degree, for allowing it to happen, for detaching myself emotionally so that he learned to stop caring about my feelings.

The crowd clapped and cheered at this announcement, and I put on my best fake smile, wrapping my arms around his waist as he kissed me on the temple. I glanced at Bobby who stood at the back of the gathering. His face grew solemn and he walked off.

“We'll talk more later, okay? I have to tend to these meats.”

“When did you find out?” I asked.

“Tentatively on Friday. But the boss called the house this morning to finalize. He didn't want to keep me hanging and they want to move quickly.”

“Wow.” Shock usurped any other emotion at the moment. But I knew this would be another brick of tension in the invisible wall between us. I wouldn't be so accepting of the news when droves of neighbors weren't in earshot.

“Rory! Congrats!” Paul Simmons from across the street waltzed into our conversation.

I tugged Rory away for a moment. “I'm going to rest upstairs for a bit. I have a headache from the heat I think. If anyone asks, don't tell them. I just need fifteen minutes or so away from the fuss.”

“You want me to check in?” he asked. “You might miss the fireworks.”

It worked out that the fireworks would start soon. The entire neighborhood spilled onto the street and down by Barbie's house for a better view. I hoped I could have the house to myself. “No, if I end up napping, I don't want to be disturbed. I'd rather sleep it off. I'll set my own alarm. Plus, one of us needs to be out here anyway.”

“Okay. You sure you're alright?”

“Yes,” I insisted. “I swear. I just think I am dehydrated.”

Another neighbor, Ted, interjected himself. “Rory, poker night won't be the same without you.”

I used that as my cue to exit, hoping Bobby hadn't escaped too far. We didn't have plans, but moving was something I never anticipated. Just like when my sister walked in on our pre-wedding scheming, this development was sobering.

I walked into the house, looking through the first level, hoping I would find Bobby, but he wasn't there. I went upstairs, and it was empty. I looked out the window, to see if maybe he joined the chatting crowd again, but I didn't see him.

I didn't know what my plan was, but I felt like I needed to speak to him. Just two days of faking it was eating me from the inside out. I couldn't let him think I was so easily accepting my fate with Rory. I clung to the window curtain, like a prisoner fantasizing about the outside world.

“Tired of the crowd?” a throaty voice asked from behind. I spun to see Bobby's dark silhouette in the doorway to my bedroom.

“I was looking for you. I looked everywhere.”

“Yeah, well I didn't want to be found for a while,” he replied. One of his fits of silence.

The muted sounds of chatter died down further. I glanced back out the window, the procession towards the fireworks had already begun.

“They're leaving to watch the fireworks. Are you going?” I asked.

“Let them go,” he said. Bobby wasn't playful. He wasn't carefree. This was the rare Bobby who burned with an intensity that could melt iron.

I sighed in frustration, deciding to take a risk. I grabbed Bobby by the forearm and pulled him into the room, locking the door behind him.

“I didn't know, I swear,” I said.

“I never said I thought you did.”

“Are you upset with me?” I asked.

“Upset with you?” he paced around the room. “No . . . no . . .” He almost chuckled. “I'm not upset with you, Lil. I want you. All the goddamned time. I am sick of sharing you. I am sick of lying to my brother. I am sick of accepting that I can't have you. I have been patient, Lil. I have sat on the sidelines. And I thought the stinging would dull, but pain like this never gets easier. I have to relieve it every day. Seeing you. Not being able to reach out and touch you when I want. Not say the things I want to say. Hear you're moving because another man made that choice for you. I love my brother, but you deserve better. He's not the person you married.” Bobby's face was red with pent up anger.

“Having those two weeks wasn't enough, Lil. It's like the stinging stopped and I knew what it was like not to live with that pain. I haven't felt that since I can remember. I have wanted you my entire life and there was always a reason I couldn't have you. There's always been an ache. And I have room to spare on one hand the times I had a chance to make the ache stop.”

“They weren't enough for me either.”

The screaming of the first firework blared through the window, soon followed by the muffled sound of an explosion.

“I'm done, Lil. I can't do this.” He turned to walk away. “Either I have all of you, or none. But I won't torture us both any longer.”

“Don't!” I grabbed his forearm. “Don't, please.”

He grimaced as if my grip smarted, but it wasn't a physical pain. “Lil. Don't do this. I promised myself not here. Not in his house.”

A collection of blasts vibrated the walls as a kaleidoscope of colors flickered through the window sheer, illuminating Bobby's face.

“Bobby, I need you. I love you. So bad. I still lie in bed and fantasize about you, only you're in the next room. I resist everything in my being not to sneak out and climb on top of you while you're sleeping.”

His body eased under the spell of my words. I took his hand and lifted my skirt, gently guiding it towards the moisture between my legs. “This is what you do to me, Bobby. Rory never could.”

A firework howled in the distance. Red light flickered along Bobby's clenched face as he tried to exert any remaining will he had left.

“Bobby, please,” I begged.

His fingers curled against the plump wetness between my thighs, and just like the fireworks outside the window, he exploded, grabbing my arm and yanking me towards him.

“Dammit, Lil,” he growled, crashing his lips against mine. His fingers slid inside of me.

“Is this what you want, Lil? You want me to screw you in my brother's bedroom?” he asked angrily.

“Yes. I just want you. Anywhere. All the time,” I choked out.

Another firework screeched, then popped.

He pulled me to the vanity and pushed me onto it, facing away from him. “You're going to face this, Lil. You're not going to close your eyes and escape the wrong we're doing.” He ripped up the skirt of my dress, yanked the panties down, and pressed into me. It wasn't gentle. A cluster of fireworks pattered as I let out a cry when he pushed his entire length into me.

“They'll hear us.” I pleaded.

“I don't care anymore, Lil. I really fucking don't. Let them.” I knew how he felt, it was exactly how I did on my wedding day.

He braced my neck, wrapping his long fingers along the nape, making me watch in the dark mirror, as he slid in and out of me. I could barely focus on the sight as the unrelenting tightness of his angry erection inside of me stole all of my faculties. Bobby yanked down the top of my dress, kneading my breast with his hand.

“You feel so good, Lil,” he grunted into my ear, as he nipped along my shoulder and neck. His warm breath and stubble brushed against my skin, leaving a scorched trail of tingles wherever his lips traveled.

A scattering of gentle pops accompanied by gold sparkles reflected on the mirror, raining along our shadowed faces.

“Bobby, harder,” I begged. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to be punished for the filthy act I was committing. I wanted to drown out the voices of doubt. To snuff the fear. I needed to only feel Bobby's shaft grinding inside of me, his slick chest pressed against my back, the sultry gusts of his breath tickling my hairline as he panted.

“Lil, it'll never be enough,” he protested through a tightened jaw. “I want it all,” he demanded.

“Have it, Bobby. Take it,” I whimpered. The trinkets hopped in unison on the dresser with each violent entry.

Like tribal drumbeats, the fireworks boomed in rapid succession. Unrelenting. Deafening. As maniacal and crazed as Bobby. I wailed as he stiffened inside of me, pumping himself, marking me like a territorial beast in his another man's den. I collapsed onto the vanity, full of Bobby, but still not sated.

A rainbow of colors flickered throughout the room. The beating of the fireworks had not stopped and to my shock neither did Bobby. He turned me over, still in a rage, and hoisted me up on the vanity as I held on, stunned. He dropped to his knees, like a subjugate vowing his fealty to a queen.

He propped my thighs along his shoulders and pressed his mouth against me. Suckling the tenderness, rolling his tongue inside and along the engorged, ripe arousal. Tasting the mixture of our sex on his lips. Tasting the forbidden fruit of our union. And though he was greedy, though he was like a starved man feasting on the freshest nectar, he was sensual. His lips and tongue moving slowly, deeply, attentively.

Like the breath was vacuumed brutally out of my lungs, I sucked in air frantically.

The finale, in its final throes of glory, masked my sobs of pleasure as I convulsed around the seal of his lips on my mound. Reds. Blues. Purples. Silvers. Golds. Whistling. Popping. Screeching. The room filled with sounds and colors against the backdrop of shadows. Bobby held my thighs down, forcing me to experience the intensity of the shockwaves that emanated from his mouth.

I rested back on the mirror, still reaching for air, feeling like liquid held together by skin.

Bobby stood up, and wiped the creamy juices that glimmered on his lips before kissing me. I could still taste us on his pout.

He rested his head against my chest as I cradled it. The built up frustration had finally released, and he was back to himself. “Lil, I'm becoming someone I don't want to be,” he lamented. “The way I feel about you is making me mad. It's why I left years ago. I don't want to become ugly and bitter. But I'm a man. And if I can't have you the way I want . . . it'll turn me into someone I don't like.”

I brushed his hair with my fingers. “Please don't give up on us,” I begged. “Just give me some time. I just heard the news. Give me some time to figure all this out, okay? I don't want to be this person either.”

Bobby and I were good people.

And yet here we were, wrapped in each other's arms in my husband's—his brother's—bedroom, risking anyone finding us. We were becoming desperate. Love was making us hysterical.

He stood up and straightened himself out. “The fireworks are over. I have to go.”

I nodded, feeling ice crystalize through my veins as the heat from his body departed from my skin. Knowing, at least for now, we would have to go back to pretending. I didn't know how much longer it could last like this, but I still didn't know how I could muster up the strength to leave. And I didn't think Bobby was quite ready to lose his brother as much as he protested our current situation.

In reaching for heaven, we had created a new hell for ourselves.

Bobby slipped out of the room as I stayed behind, cleaning up the mess we had made. Once I had finished, and the murmurs of the crowd returned to the backyard, I stepped out of the room.

Barbie was walking down the hallway.

“Lilly,” she called.

I wondered how long she had been in the house. Did she see Bobby come downstairs? I bluffed until I could find out why she was up here.

“Rory's a bit sauced,” she said.

“Oh no, did he do anything stupid?”

“No, but I thought you should know. I know he's been dry lately. What are you doing up here?” she asked. “I was looking for you at the fireworks crowd before I realized you must not have come along.”

“I had a headache. The last thing I needed was flashing lights and loud noises.”

“Awww, come on, let me fix something up for that.”

She was being especially kind after my blowup at Stan, who was floating around the party, but hadn't really spoken to me.

“Why don't you start, and I'll head down in a minute?” I felt ambushed and needed another minute alone.

“Okay.” She headed down the stairs but stopped midway. “Are you sure everything is okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Promise. I guess news of the move has me a bit frazzled.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically before leaving.

I ran back into the bedroom, a sudden and inexplicable rush of emotion hitting me, and sobbed.