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“No, but I’m more of a chocolate girl.” She admitted.
“Try one.” I persuaded.
“I’m watching my weight.”
“That’s a silly thing to say. Maybe you’re just as weird as me.”
“That’s not weird!”
“Yes, it is.” I laughed, “I want to share something with you, and you’re worried about your weight.”
“It is New York, everyone always is.” She affirmed.
“Maybe.” I added, “I won’t discredit how you feel, but you’re missing out on a candy. What if it changed your life?”
“A candy could never do that.”
“I think so,” I replied softly, almost offended. “What if it was so good that it changed how you felt about everything you ever knew? What if the flavor alone reminded you of someone, or maybe a memory? Wouldn’t that be enough to take a chance and eat a single candy?”
“Easy, Mr. Wonka.” She laughed, but my assertion was anything but teasing.
“I never take it easy.” I fished out a gummy ring from the bag. I couldn’t remember how many times I’d slipped one of these on Gemma’s finger, only to bite it off. I felt guilty, having her by my side tonight, knowing goddamn well what I was doing. Her finger was so small and delicate, the candy itself consumed its size. I often thought of that finger of hers, how skilled it was while sketching designs and the limitless potential I knew she had. Even that small piece of her was deserving of praise, something I obsessed over.
Yes, that finger was made for more than just talent alone. I could never admit my guilty confession, how I’d fantasized about her and how that finger had probably been inside her silky wet slit. If she touched herself, then I wanted to taste it, but much more, I wanted to be the reason for it.
If only I could keep her stuck between my lips, her soft white skin sweeter than any candy itself. It was all an excuse to get close, small doses that were required to keep my urges at bay. I was hopelessly desperate for her, and for that reason, I fucking hated myself. I passed the gummy to Mila who hesitantly chewed it in her mouth.
In the brief moments before she swallowed, Mila appeared to be assessing her feelings on what the candy meant to her. Her otherwise expressive dark eyes rolled to the ceiling, as if digging deep for a response she couldn't find. “Nothing,” she shook her head, “just a candy.”
“Nothing.” I mused, repeating her own words to myself. I wish it was nothing, but to me it was everything. Having Gemma live with me was supposed to be easy, but now it was more difficult than ever. I wanted to keep her safe, but to do that involved ignoring my own feelings, which lately have been almost impossible. I hadn’t realized how vulnerable I’d be, sharing this space with her. Now I got to see her walk around in her robe, her face perfectly washed without makeup, revealing a more tired expression I had never seen before. I loved it though, such as the small creases near her eyes or the tangled bun of hair she’d get from a good night’s rest. These were a few things I’d seen, the mannerisms I’d hope to capture quietly. I observed more of her, which was something I always wanted but prevented myself from in the past. I’d already fallen so deep, I didn't think I could possibly get deeper.
“What do you think of when you eat them?” Mila asked. I hesitated, thinking of all the ways they reminded me of Gemma and, without saying that, tried to describe it the best way I could.
“Comforted,” I started. “Like how the sun feels when you leave the water of a cool pool.”
“That’s unique.”
“Yes, laying out to be absorbed, allowing it to dry me off. It brings me back to life, plugging me in, charging me up. In those moments, I could fall asleep. I could stay there forever and die happy.”
“You’d burn, Parker.” Mila ignored my sentiment, eating another peach ring without thought.
“I know I’d burn, but it’s tempting, isn’t it?” I asked, more for myself.
“You should have picked up your phone,” she scolded as if it were a second thought. “When I called, you sent me to voicemail.”
“Tonight was important, I wanted to be here for Gemma. I told you what happened.”
“That she had a bad day?”
“Yes, but no. You make it sound so simple, and it’s not.” Mila wasn’t privy to Gemma’s life, nor was I for that matter. But I knew enough, and I had seen more than maybe Gemma even realized. Her life at home had never been great, and as a child, there wasn’t much I could do, but I’m not that anymore. Maybe the thought was naive, but I felt like I could protect Gemma from it all, even from Claire, who was responsible for the promise I made as a child. Could I ever tell Gemma about that day, and would she ever understand?
I’ll never forget her face the morning after her father left. There was a difference in her eyes, more swollen from tears than I had ever seen before. That wasn’t Gemma, that was remnants of her, pieces left behind from whatever happened that night before. I fucking hated it and what that expression did to me, having stayed burned in my mind even to this day. What I wouldn’t give to go back, to wipe her red eyes, my little Butterfly.
If only I could keep her in my hands, to protect that beaming smile of hers, the one that hung in the frames of my home;ourhome, or so I wished. I’d do anything for that smile, including getting rid of Claire. I’d see to it that she’d never be a problem again, just as I promised Gemma.
“Sounds like your day was worse than hers.” Mila continued as she laid back, resting her feet across my lap. “I heard about your meeting with Alex’s lawyers.”
“How much did you hear?”
