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“Knock knock.”
Haven freezes. A second later she flips her curtain of hair aside and aims her searing gaze at me. She’s not quick enough to mask her own emotions. There’s a spark of surprise, followed by a visible flush that could be excitement or it could be rage. Tough to tell with her.
While I’m watching, she rearranges her features into indifference. Looks like it takes some effort.
“You must be lost, Conner. There’s not a party in sight around here. Try the golf club.”
“Nah, that’s at least ten miles away.”
She studies her nails. “I suggest you make the drive. It’s more your speed. And undoubtedly filled with frivolous women hunting for high profile dick like you.”
Listen to her. Doesn’t give an inch without a fight.
“Great option to keep in mind next time I’m lonely. But today I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for.”
Haven cocks her head and considers the situation for a few seconds before straightening her back and climbing to her feet, which are covered in black heeled boots laced up to her knees, setting my imagination on fire. And because I’m a horny scumbag who likes to let my cock lead me around, I take careful note of every luscious inch of her body.
She notices. A grim smile tilts her lips. “Why the hell are you here?”
I decide to take that as an invitation to enter the room. “You didn’t say goodbye before you fled the wedding. Missed my toast and everything.”
“Oh. Goodbye.” She crosses her arms. She’s not wearing a bra. I appreciate that.
Lita, meanwhile, hasn’t moved a muscle. The mounted television is showing some colorful musical. People are dancing and singing in the middle of a freeway.
Haven stands her ground when I get closer, not budging even when my arm brushes hers. She notices the flowers in my hand and confusion ripples across her forehead. But she doesn’t prevent me from getting next to her sister.
Tess visits Lita often. She’s the one who told me that no one knows whether or not Lita can hear what’s going on around her. Haven must believe that her sister can hear her. She was deep in a one sided conversation with Lita when I walked in.
I can do that too. I’m good at talking, whether or not anyone is actually listening.
“Hey Lita, it’s your old pal Conner. Yeah, I know I should have come sooner. You’d be right to give me shit for that.”
I don’t know what I’m watching for when I stare at her face. Nothing changes. Lita shows no sign that she understands anything.
Haven’s boots click on the tile as she moves to the window. Gently, I place the bouquet of sunflowers on the ottoman. Though Haven faces in the opposite direction, I know she’s listening to every word I say to her sister.
“Look, I brought you sunflowers. I guess this proves I’ve managed to absorb a few decent manners over the last decade. Hey, was it sophomore year when we sat next to each other in the back row of Henderson’s class? Yeah, I’m sure it was sophomore year. Can’t say I recall any trigonometry but I remember that guy wore a bad hairpiece that looked like a dead muskrat and he popped antacid tablets like peanuts. I was always falling asleep on my desk. Every so often you’d smack me in the arm with a spiral notebook and say ‘Rise and fucking shine’ whenever I started to snore too loud. Which happened a lot.”
Haven’s loud sniff sounds like laughter. The sound generates warmth somewhere inside me. She ought to laugh more.
This seems like a good time to make a peace offering. I extend the arm holding the purple bouquet. “By the way, this is for you, angry girl.”
She turns her head and makes no effort to accept the flowers. She remains rooted in place, full of silent suspicion. Beautiful and difficult.
Well, I knew that getting on Haven’s good side wouldn’t be easy. Especially because I’m not positive she has a good side.
But I can’t really stand here for eternity, posing with a bunch of flowers while waiting for her to react. Eventually my arm will get tired. If I have to go to her then so be it.
Her posture is stiff and wary as I approach. She reminds me of a coiled snake, unsure if there’s a threat worth striking at. Maybe that’s how she thinks of herself. As a snake. She called the serpent tattoo on her chest a family brand. The idea is unsettling.
My gaze drops to her pert bow of a mouth. Dirty thoughts swirl behind my eyes. I’ll keep them to myself for now.
In a playful gesture, I tap her folded arms with the bundled flowers. The paper hisses and crinkles. Haven exhales and finally snatches them out of my hands.
Just when I’m wondering if she’s going to toss the flowers on the floor and stomp them into confetti with her shiny boot heels, there’s a shift in her attitude. A ghost of a smile plays on her lips as she peers into the purple paper.
It’s hard to say exactly why something deep and unidentified crunches inside my chest but I’m pretty sure it’s related to Haven Marchenko’s possibility of a smile.
