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Shifting onto my side, I prop my head up with my palm, studying her profile as she rests with her eyes open, fingers interlaced over her belly. “I want to answer your question.”
Her head cocks to the side, finding me through the darkness, her abundance of brown hair spilled across my pillowcase like wild waves. She doesn’t reply. She just waits.
I close my eyes, fighting against the urge to pull back. To run from the hard questions and painful memories. It’s been sixteen years, but it still feels fresh.
My mother’s face forms in my mind, from the short sweep of her nose to the bronzy highlights in her hair. She smells of sugar and caramel crème. I see her hovering over me like an angel, tucking me into bed, sitting beside my legs as I snuggle Bubbles to my chest.
I feel her lips against my hairline. Her hand sweeping along my forehead.
I hear the sound of her voice.
“I’ll always protect you,” I say, my eyes still closed. “She said… ‘I’ll always protect you.’”
I’m drenched in a shot of resentment, knowing my mother’s words were nothing but kindling in the wind. Knowing she never should have made a promise she couldn’t keep.
June moves toward me on the mattress, closing the gap between us. Her breath tickles my bare skin as she whispers, “And your father?”
I don’t think about him. I don’t imagine the sound of his voice, or his hickory smell, or the gray flecks in his eyes. “‘Cover your ears.’” My tone is jagged, my voice rusty. “That was the last thing he said to me.”
“One more thing, Brant… Cover your ears.”
Perspiration dots my skin, my airways tightening.
Panic inches its way inside me.
I feel lost. I feel scared. I feel abandoned.
I told June I’d always protect her, but how could I promise such a thing, knowing how easily those words can come back to haunt? To terrorize?
She curls into me then, the top of her head tucked right beneath my chin, the wetness of her tears tickling my chest. She hums the tune of “Over the Rainbow,” soothing my nerves. Her hands slide around my middle, stroking up and down my shoulder blades, calming the tremors that have settled in. June comforts me until my breathing steadies and my mind clears.
She’s my rainbow after the storm.
My arms wrap around her on instinct, and as we lie together, more entangled than I should allow, I can’t help but wonder…
Who’s protecting who?
When I awoke the next morning, June had already slipped from the covers and disappeared into her own bedroom, leaving her scent on my pillow and her tearstains on my skin. We didn’t talk about that night again, but our dynamic changed once again. We grew closer.
In a lot of ways, too close.
And I’m not sure why.
I’ll never know why.
But I got out of bed that Sunday, threw on a clean T-shirt, drank my morning coffee, and hopped into my car.
I drove to Wendy’s apartment, and I broke up with her.
For the very last time.
14
FIRST BITE
BRANT, AGE 22
“You worried about the new boss?”
