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“What is the point of having a cell phone if you never answer it?”
Oh, shit. She’s had this phone two months and it’s turned her into a crazy person. I don’t dare say this out loud, but I’m beginning to wish I’d gotten her something else for her birthday.
If I don’t call her back within a few minutes, she accuses me of playing games. If she doesn’t call me back right away, it’s because she was busy. I don’t think she even realizes how insane this sounds.
“What do you want me to do? Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” I inch closer to her and she smiles when she realizes she has my attention. “You want me to promise I’ll never wait more than five minutes to call you back? Would that make you happy?”
She loses the smile and purses her lips. “This phone has turned me into an addict. I look at it every two minutes to check for missed calls and texts from you. It’s sick!”
I reach for her wrist and slowly move my hand down until the phone is in my hand. I place it gently on the bathroom counter, then I look her in the eyes.
“Babe, you’re not addicted to your phone. You’re addicted to me.”
“Shut up!” she smacks my chest and I try not to laugh too loud.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me. She’s breathing hard as my lips hover over hers. “Don’t you have to get ready for school?”
“It’s a late day. I don’t have to be at school for two and a half hours.”
I smile. It actually makes me happy that I can’t remember what day is a late day anymore since I quit school. The only regret I have about quitting school is that Claire is alone now. With Jake and Rachel graduated, and Tristan hanging out with his new girlfriend, Ashley, Claire says she spends most of her time outside of class reading.
“Good, ‘cause I have plans for you…. I gonna text you for two hours straight.”
“You’re such a jerk!”
She tries to push me away and I lean in to kiss her. At first she closes her mouth, but she laughs when I plant a loud kiss on her cheek. And I seize the opportunity to kiss her hard.
Seconds later, we’re lying on my bed, the sheets bunched up beneath her and my hand easing down her waist to her hip. She grabs my hand to stop me and I smile as I move my hand up. I trail my lips over her smooth jaw and plant a soft kiss on her neck. I hear a sniffing noise and I quickly pull my head back, afraid she’s crying.
“Oh, my God. You smell so good,” she says, leaning forward so she can sniff my shoulder.
“Really?”
She grabs fistfuls of my T-shirt and brings them to her nose as she inhales. “Yes! Is that some kind of cologne or something?”
“No, it’s laundry soap and you use the same one.”
“No, it has to be something else.”
I reach up and lightly drag my fingertip across her jawline. “Yeah, it’s laundry soap and my pheromones, which you obviously can’t get enough of. Addict.”
“Shut up.”
“What? There’s nothing wrong with that. I can’t get enough of your scent either.” I bury my face in the crook of her neck and she lets out a soft gasp when I lick her skin. “You smell sweet and salty at the same time, like raspberries with a hint of the beach. It’s fucking intoxicating.”
“Really?” she breathes. “That’s what I smell like to you?”
I nuzzle my nose against the sensitive spot behind her ear and she giggles softly. “See what you do to me? I can’t get enough of you.”
I kiss her neck and her skin is so soft, I want to devour her. But I respect her boundaries. So minutes later, we’re on my bike on the way to drop her off at school. As usual, she plants a kiss on the front of my helmet, leaving a kiss mark on the glass. Then she bats my hand away when I try to grab her ass as she walks away.
Something about this feels too perfect. I keep waiting for my mom to tell me that Claire’s being moved to another foster home. Or that my mom will find out about us and Claire’s caseworker will have her removed from our home.
Something bad is coming. It could be next week or next year. All I know is that this can’t continue the way it has. It’s too perfect. Nothing in my life has ever been this good or easy.
Forever Thankful
December 25, 2009
Christmas at the Knight house is quiet and warm; just the way I remember it being with my mom. My mom used to put on the TV to whatever channel was playing the black and white movie marathon. Then we’d decorate the little tabletop tree she set up on the kitchen table with the sound of It’s A Wonderful Life playing in the background. The only gifts I ever remember getting from my mother on Christmas were a book about the Milky Way and a puzzle of the solar system. I wish I still had that book.
After a huge feast of roast chicken, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and mashed potatoes, I feel as if I might burst. But I can’t let Jackie do the dishes after cooking such a huge spread.
“I can do that,” I say, scooting in next to her at the kitchen sink.
Chris sandwiches her on the other side and we gently scoot her back. “Go sit down. We’ll do this.”
Chris washes while I dry the dishes and put them away. Occasionally, his hand will linger on mine when he passes me a plate or a cup and I have to shoot him a severe look to get him to let go. Jackie doesn’t know anything about Chris and me, and we have to keep it that way. I don’t know what I’d do if she found out about us and I were placed in another home.
When we’re done with the dishes, Chris and I join Jackie in the living room to open presents. Chris gets an expensive motorcycle jacket and a gift card to his favorite music store from Jackie. Chris and I give Jackie a silver bracelet with three emeralds, which makes her cry for some reason. And Jackie gives me a gift card to my favorite book store and a new winter coat.
When it comes time for Chris and I to exchange gifts, my stomach is in knots. I know Chris wouldn’t give me anything too expensive or personal. He doesn’t want his mom to know about us anymore than I do. But I’m nervous about what he’ll think of my gift to him.
“You go first,” he says, and I shrug like it’s no big deal.
I tear open the wrapping paper on the small box and my heart races. Lifting the lid on the white box, I find another smaller box inside. I open that box and find a small envelope. When I open the envelope, I find a picture of me and my mom.
My mother’s sitting on the same sofa where she died. I’m sitting in her lap, my head nestled in the crook of her neck as she kisses my forehead. The picture is too fuzzy to see the track-marks on her arms. We look like a normal mother and daughter.
“How did you get this?” I whisper through the painful lump in my throat
.
“I asked my mom to talk to your caseworker and she contacted the lady you used to live next door to when you lived with your mom. This was the only picture she had. Are you upset?”
I shake my head. “Thank you.”
“It’s a beautiful picture of you two,” Jackie adds with a gentle smile that actually makes me feel worse.
Chris begins tearing the wrapping paper away from his gift and I’m grateful for the distraction. When he lifts the lid on the box, he lets out a soft chuckle. He lifts the T-shirt out of the box and holds it up for us to see.
I had to skip lunch at school for a couple of weeks to save up enough money for the shirt, but it was totally worth it. The black T-shirt has a white silhouette of a guy playing the guitar on the front, and the letters CK on the bottom right. The back of the shirt reads, “Music is my religion.” A quote from his idol, Jimi Hendrix.
“You made this?”
“Some guy in my English class designed the image on the front,” I reply.
“Some guy in your English class?”
I swallow hard when I realize he’s jealous, but this is not the right place for him to be jealous.
“Just some guy…. Anyway, I took the design to that T-shirt shop in the mall and they put it on there. Do you like it?”
He looks conflicted, like he wants to address the issue about the guy in English class who designed a shirt for me, but he knows he can’t do it with Jackie here. Something about this makes me want to laugh.
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Oh, please, Chris,” Jackie remarks. “Show a little more gratitude. I think it’s a very thoughtful gift.”
“It is,” he adds, looking me in the eye. “I love it.”
He puts emphasis on the word love and it makes my stomach flip.
Chris and I stay downstairs to watch a movie while Jackie heads to bed early after a long day of cooking. We always wait at least an hour after she goes up before we let down our guards. When that hour is up, I look at Chris and he’s already staring at me from the other end of the sofa.
