Текст книги "Tainted Black"
Автор книги: Shanora Williams
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
SIX
Three Years Later – 22 Years Old
USC was a dream—more like a fast-paced, colorful blur.
After two years, I had only been home once. That one time was because Izzy wanted to visit her mother’s grave. Afterwards, we took off, catching waves at the welcoming beach of Ventura. Luckily, Mr. Black didn’t show up during that one visit. I was scotch-free, glad I didn’t have to face him.
During my time away, I’d gotten really close with my roommate, Mariah. She could be nice, but she was a huge party animal. At first I didn’t like her. She came off a bit stuck up and selfish, but after getting to know her, I settled with the understanding that she only seemed that way because she kept it real.
She was genuine and honest, and she didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing. Unlike Izzy, where she’d make up excuses about a certain dress I bought, beating around the bush about its fit, Mariah would tell me straight to my face that the dress I wore wasn’t a good color on me. Or a good fit—whatever it just so happened to be.
I didn’t like it at first. I had a weird taste in fashion, so I assumed she didn’t grasp where I was coming from whenever I wore certain things, but after a while, it came in handy.
During freshman year, I hardly partied. I went to one party, and it was the lamest thing I’d ever attended. Because of it, I vowed never to go to another. I was only fooling myself.
Sophomore year was fantastic. That’s when Mariah and I became closer. She took me to the real parties where even the smartest of students, like myself, got wild and let loose. I was afraid of becoming that, but I had to live. Start fresh. This was the best way to start. No regrets. Just fun.
I never got too wasted to the point where I’d vomit over the staircase or balcony of a frat house like some of the girls did. I only got drunk enough to where I felt good—enough to the point where I was able to still control my actions but wouldn’t dare set foot behind the wheel of a car.
During my college life, I did my best to forget about the small things, but of course those “small” things happened to cross my mind every single fucking day. Those “small” things were the reason I’d rushed to a clinic to get birth control as soon as I was settled in my dorm room on the first day. He’d made me a woman, and with that came responsibility. I hated the shot, but I also knew I wouldn’t keep up with the pills. Whatever was best, right?
In class, when my psychology professor would drone on about brain waves and REM, I thought of Theo. I couldn’t help myself. I doodled pictures of the tattoos I could remember and even wrote short stories full of fantasy shit that he would never say in person.
I wondered every day if he was okay, and at one point, I had even considered calling to check on him. But I knew better. Plus, Izzy’s daily phone call to me would prove he was. There was never a call where she wouldn’t mention her hot-as-sin father.
She told me lots of times he was unhappy. Still hurting… but also that he had a girl toy on his arms only four months after I left. The girl toy part made me jealous. I wished then that he had a Facebook or Twitter so I could see her face, but I forgot he was a forty year old man. He didn’t need social media—didn’t thrive on it like leaches or check it first thing in the morning like it was the newspaper as we did.
I wondered if she was blonde or brunette. If her body was better than mine? If her butt was bigger? What color her eyes were? Or if he had a nickname created just for her… like he did for me?
I’d contemplated calling him so many times. Izzy would never know, and we’d vowed to keep whatever happened years ago between us. Ugh. Jealousy was an ugly trait, and I hated that I even carried it.
For a while, I was upset that I left without saying goodbye—leaving us open-ended—that is until the party at the beach happened. Everyone had just finished finals. Mariah and I were looking for something to do to pass time before our summer break started, so we took up the invitation.
That night, through heavy drinking and slurred sentences, I met Axel. Axel was exactly how he sounded. A jock. A cocky son of a bitch. Built with a wavy buzz cut and smooth chocolate skin, almost like my father’s. He was handsome and, sadly, a football player.
There was just something about football players that lured me in but turned me off all at once. Like an idiot, I invited Axel to come spend summer break with us while highly intoxicated. I wished I hadn’t. I had to share my bed with him, sleep with him. Talk to him. He had a terrible vocabulary. It was obvious he’d only gotten into USC because he had an athletic scholarship. And I only said yes because he had a nice body and a pretty smile.
When he spoke, I wanted to gag.
When he flexed his muscles, kissing his biceps, I wanted to spit up in my mouth.
When he didn’t speak, though, he was a gorgeous being. Far from smart, but I dealt with him because there were times when my needs got the best of me. I was desperate, but not even the cocky, arrogant Axel could fulfill them.
I knew who I needed.
Who I wanted.
And exactly how I wanted it.
But that was a no-no. It would never happen again, especially now. I was sure he realized he’d made a mistake with me. It’d been two and a half years. He’d obviously let go if he had a new girl around.
Other than constantly thinking about Theo, the college life was great. But the third year happened to be the worst.
Due to all of his working out of retirement, my father became too old and too sick. He almost worked himself to death.
Mom… fucking Mom. She hired a caregiver to watch and help Dad while she spent her many days and nights traveling the world. And not only that, she had a boyfriend. A fucking boyfriend! How was that even okay if she was still married?
I was angry at her, mainly because she was the one that was supposed to be by his side, caring for him, providing, loving, but I knew Mom had given up on her marriage a long time ago. It was clear she was only around for the money. Don’t get me wrong, she honestly loved my father at one point. I saw it, bright as day. And she also loved me with her whole heart, but when it came to herself, that’s who she loved most.
So, instead of spending my summer with friends, I drove home to spend it with my father. He was already in the early stages of Alzheimer’s while I was in school. The disease was the very reason he felt it was time to retire. He didn’t want to be the blame for forgetting something—messing up numbers.
Over the course of those three years, though, his disease had progressed. To make matters worse, he’d had a stroke while grocery shopping by himself. Mom normally did the shopping or sent someone out to do it. I was glad I wasn’t a witness to such a tragedy.
I wanted to be there for my father, and I also took it as an opportunity to focus on my next semester, take up some reading for my English degree. I wanted to become a second grade teacher, spread creativity, and help develop young minds the right way. It had always been a dream of mine.
I drove home the day after I finished exams. I could check my scores online. In that moment, family was more important. It took me an hour and a half to get home. As soon as I did, I called Izzy before getting out of the car.
She answered, her tone chipper.
“Izzy, you didn’t text me back earlier.”
“Sorry, Chlo. I got caught up with unpacking, and Dylan wouldn’t leave me the hell alone.” She groaned. “But I suck because I totally forgot to tell you that I can’t even come home this summer. I may be on a bit of an academic probation.”
I gasped. “What the hell? How?”
“All that partying.” I knew she was shrugging while putting on an innocent face. “It gets the best of you. But I swear, I’m going to get it together. I have to. My dad will kill me if he finds out. Hey, do me a favor and don’t bring up the summer school thing. I kind of told him that I volunteered to help for a summer camp for teens.”
“I… won’t. What makes you think I’ll even get the chance to talk to him?”
“I don’t know. You guys always talk. He asks about you all the fucking time like I’m supposed to know how you’re doing when you’re two hours away from me. I’m like, ‘Dad. We don’t go to the same school. I don’t know what Chloe’s doing.’” She laughed.
My heart stuttered, and I looked through the rearview mirror, spotting the familiar home that belonged to the Blacks. He asks about me? That was the first time I’d heard that one.
“Anyway, I’m sorry Chlo. I think summer school ends like two weeks before the fall semester begins, and if so, I’ll come see you. I don’t know. We’ll see. But until then, hang in there, and update me on Papa Knight. I can’t believe your mom, by the way. Total bitch move.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re telling me. I’ll call you or something soon. Make sure you focus, alright? Tell Dylan to get lost. Books before boys!”
“Always has been!”
“Always will be.” I smiled, Izzy laughed, and I hung up, blowing a sigh as I stared at the home ahead of me. My home. It felt so unfamiliar to me now.
My sick father was in there. Fortunately, there was a certified nurse also looking after him so I wouldn’t be completely on my own, but this was frightening. What if he forgot my name? Or the fact that he even had a daughter? The last thing I needed was my parents forgetting I existed.
Picking up my tote bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I pushed out of the car and shut the door behind me, adjusting my wool fedora hat and then my shorts. It was humid outside, the air thick with the California heat. My clothes automatically clung to my skin. I needed to get inside.
I walked to the door, pulling out my house key. I couldn’t believe it felt so strange to be home. And worse? Right across the street from the man I had constant fantasies about. Before entering the house, I glanced back. The garage gate was closed, the driveway empty. Lights out.
No one was home—well, he wasn’t home.
Work, possibly? I don’t know. His schedule was foreign to me now, but I used to know it like the palm of my hand.
I twisted my lips, walking inside and shutting the door behind me. The AC was strong, cooling the hidden parts of me that were hard to keep at a decent climate. I took off my hat and placed it on the wooden rectangular table by the door, calling for anyone to appear.
Several seconds later, a short Hispanic woman with curly brown hair appeared. Her cheeks were chubby, as well as her fingers. She was at least four inches shorter than me, but her smile was way bigger than mine could ever be. It was weird. She didn’t look like how I pictured her when we were on the phone a week ago. I expected a younger woman wearing loose clothing and her hair pinned up. But her hair flowed to her shoulders, her floral blouse and khaki’s proving she was exactly how she dressed. Simple.
Still beautiful, nonetheless.
“Hi!” the caregiver chimed as she came rushing my way. She extended her arm, and I shook her hand. “You must be Chloe!”
“In the flesh.” I smiled.
“Wow,” she gasped. “You look so much like your father.” She placed a hand on her hip.
“I get that a lot.”
“Well, welcome home! It’s so good to meet you. Margie, by the way. You know, just in case you may have forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget,” I laughed.
“Great!” She walked past me, entering the kitchen. “I was just coming down for your father’s soup and crackers. He has a bit of a head cold, but other than that, he seems fine today.”
“Today? What do you mean today?” I walked in the kitchen after her, head tilted.
Her eyes met mine briefly before she focused on the bowl she was placing on a tray. “Your dad has his days… some where he’ll know exactly who and where he is and some where he won’t even know why there’s a portrait of him with two strange girls on the wall beside him.” She looked up at me again, waving a hand. “The strange girls being you and your mother.”
“Oh.” I looked away, folding my arms. Margie walked around the island counter and went up the stairs. I was hesitant on following her up, but when she glanced back and caught my uncertainty, she quickly gestured for me to follow.
“Come on up! He’s been anxious to see his baby girl.”
I smiled, nodding as I took the stairs with her. For a heavyset woman, she moved fast. I loved it. It was just what my dad needed after living such a fast-paced life. Taking the stairs by twos, I followed Margie into my parents’ master bedroom. The room was much colder than the rest of the house, the way my father always liked it. The walls were no longer a pale shade of blue but more of an indigo. It suited him. A tranquil color. My father was never the type to be on edge. He was a laid-back guy, way easier to talk to than my mom… whenever he was around anyway.
A king-sized bed stretched across the center of the room, a TV mounted right across from it, and on the bed was my father. He was sitting upright, the blue blanket I knitted for him while I was in summer camp in 8th grade spread out across his lap. Pill bottles were lined up on the dresser on the east wall. There were at least ten little orange and white containers.
Entering the room, my eyebrows glued together as I stared at him. It seemed he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He was skinnier with dark circles beneath his eyes, lips a shade whiter. His dark skin was still smooth, though. A nice chocolaty-brown complexion.
I stared from the bedroom door, wanting so badly to cry for him. He looked lonely, but I knew my father. He would never show it, and he damn sure wouldn’t admit it.
“Daddy?”
Dad whipped his head to the right, eyes immediately turning bright as he looked from the quiet game of golf on the TV screen to me. “Baby girl!” He opened his arms, and when he did, I rushed forward, sinking into them as I sat on the edge of the mattress. “How’s my ladybug doing?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.
My eyes burned even more, bottom lip quivering. I pulled my shit together and said, “Never better.” Then I gently removed myself from his embrace, meeting his sad brown eyes. “How are you? Margie tells me you have a cold?”
“Ehh.” He waved a hand, dismissing the idea. “No cold. Just a runny nose.”
“Hmm. You sound a little sick to me.”
He laughed and then held up his forefinger and thumb like he was about to pinch something. “Maybe just a little.” He looked me over, proud to see I was still holding my own. “You look great. How’s school? Your grades?”
“You know my grades are great. School is nice. Finally got along with my roommate,” I informed him.
His eyes expanded. “Good. I know how hard it is for you to make friends. Speaking of, where’s the little girl? You know, the one you grew up with from across the street?”
“Izzy?”
“Yeah, her!”
“Izzy is spending her summer at a camp. She volunteered to help some kids near her school.”
“Oh. How nice of her.” He placed his hand on my forearm, shaking his head. “You know you didn’t have to come watch over me. That’s what I have Margie for.”
“No, Dad,” I said as his lips pressed. I squeezed the hand that was on my arm. “I needed to come back. It’s been a while. Plus, I missed you.” I took a swift look around the room. “I missed being home.”
“And you know I missed you.” His smile was genuine.
I scrunched my nose and looked at the TV while Margie placed the tray on his lap. “Since when did you start watching golf?”
“You kidding? I watch golf all the time? You remember when you used to come to the golf courses with Uncle Clay and me? You loved it!”
“That was so long ago,” I laughed. “And you didn’t watch golf back then unless it was in person.”
“Same thing. But you remember, right?”
“Of course I do.” I was surprised he could.
“See.” His eyes lit up as he picked up his spoon.
My face stiffened as I watched him try to eat his soup with the handle instead of the ladle of the spoon itself. And what hurt most to watch was him thinking he was doing it correctly, struggling to slurp tiny droplets. I glanced at Margie who stood in the corner, ready to come to his aid, but I shook my head, grabbing the spoon and fixing it for him.
He didn’t say anything. I was surprised he allowed the assistance. I guess he was tired of struggling to eat. After catching up with him a little further, I let Dad eat the rest of his soup in peace. I told him I was going to my room to take a quick shower.
That quick shower turned into two hours of moping in my bedroom and checking my laptop for final grades. I refreshed the page frequently, but nothing appeared on the portal.
Before I knew it, darkness had fallen, and when I went back to check on Dad, he was sound asleep. Margie informed me that she would be downstairs tidying up. After cleaning, I heard the TV turn on in the living room. Then, an hour and a half later, I heard her come back up, check on my father, and then enter the guest room. This was obviously the usual routine. She could hear if my dad needed her through the monitor she carried.
It saddened me to see him this way—almost like a helpless child. It made my heart ache. I wanted to weep for him, but Dad hated tears. He hated to see his girls down. I sucked it up, turning off my lamp and lying flat on my back, gazing up at the glowing stars on my ceiling.
I remembered the day Izzy and I put them up there, bouncing on the bed with our palms flat, sticky side of the stars up. I was a little taller, so I got more up than she did. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she only got three of the ten up there. There are stars on her ceiling too. We shared the package.
Headlights flashed across my wall, and my thoughts were interrupted. I sat up, my heart catching speed, knowing the lights usually only came from one direction.
The Blacks’ house.
Walking towards the window, I placed a single finger behind the curtain and peeked out. A black Dodge Charger with matte black rims and LED headlights parked in the Blacks’ driveway. With my curiosity getting the best of me, I continued watching. I’d never seen the car before.
Another new toy of his?
Finally, the passenger door opened and a young girl that looked about two or three years older than me stepped out, fluffing her blonde hair. She said something as she ducked down and looked inside the car again.
I frowned. From where I stood, she was beautiful. Her makeup flawless, the streetlights reflecting off her nose ring. Her lips were full, body slender in a gold club type dress. Her wavy blonde hair swam to the middle of her back, her high heels making her appear way taller than she was. She walked around the car, and the driver door swung open. And out stepped none other than Mr. Black.
So… that was his girl toy, huh?
All of my questions were answered in that single moment.
She had blonde hair.
No, her butt wasn’t bigger than mine, but she definitely did a daily routine of squats.
I wouldn’t say she was prettier than me, but we were kind of on the same scale. She just wore more make up, so she could have been less attractive beneath the layers.
Her legs looked better, though.
And her hair was obviously styled by an expensive hairstylist.
She reminded me of a knock-off Mrs. Black. It was depressing to think he’d searched for someone that reminded him of his deceased wife.
Theo stumbled out of the car in a drunken manner, shutting and locking the car behind him and then following after the girl to get to the house. Before they made it inside, his arms draped around her waist from behind and his lips pressed on the bend of her neck. His laughter was loud, but she was clearly irritated with the state he was in.
I felt somewhat sorry for her because I knew exactly what she was dealing with—only, I didn’t think it was that bad dealing with a drunk Theo Black. She treated him like a child, brushing him aside, scolding him, and demanding him to get it together. He wasn’t obnoxious, but he could get annoying when you attempted to help him.
They entered the house, and the door shut behind them. My eyes remained glued on the house, watching a few lights turn on. Shadows passed by the windows, their silhouettes getting higher as they made it up the stairs.
The bedroom lights were the last to flicker on. Their silhouettes stumbled in front of the window, lips glued. My heart pounded in my chest, my eyes unfortunately wet. I swallowed the thick lump in my throat, trying to force myself to look away, but I couldn’t.
I felt pieces of my heart snapping off, my insecurities increasing. How could I feel like this? Why did it hurt so much to see? It had been so long, but apparently time couldn’t even take away my feelings for him.
They made out for quite some time. And I don’t know why the hell I couldn’t pull away. It was like watching a train wreck. It was heartbreaking, but I couldn’t help but look. She was clearly over her bitching and whining, divulging in Theo’s embrace, hot kisses, and hard, delicious body. It was easy to look over the way he acted once you caught sight of him.
Finally, they stumbled away from the window, shadows disappearing. I was over the edge, nervous, waiting for something to happen. I wanted her to argue, back out of the make-out session. Leave the house. Take the Charger and go. Leave him alone. Something bad needed to happen. Right now.
And it finally did.
Only, it wasn’t bad for them.
It was bad for me.
The lights turned off and it was obvious what was about to go down. He was staking his claim. He was doing the very thing I hoped he wouldn’t.
Making her, his.
I stepped away from the window, my heart barely beating. Why it hurt me so much to see after so many months without him, I do not know. I mean, after all, I was the one that left him hanging in the driveway before I went to school. I was the one that avoided him and didn’t bother trying to speak to him for three years. I was the one that fucked up, so why be upset? Why let knowing he’d moved on hurt me?
I shrunk in my bed, staring at the wall across from me. It took a while to fall asleep, but I managed and, of course, it was just my luck that after what felt like months, I dreamt of Theo Black again.
All of his masculine glory.
All of his tattoos.
His beautiful smile.
His thick, sensual cock.
The patch of grass he fucked me on a few days before I left for school. The way he shushed me, begging me to stay quiet but also wanting me so badly to scream to the sky. I dreamt of all of him. Every single thing about him.
Then I woke up, facing reality at five in the morning.
I felt defeated. And stupid. And… weird about all of this. What the hell was I thinking, coming back to this place?
Fucking Primrose. It never failed to let me down.
