Queens Four of a KindChapter 14 Epilogue
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"So what are your post-high school plans?" I asked the trio of girls who seemed to be my constant companions from seven-thirty to three, five days a week, while we were walking to first period.
"Sunbathing and shopping," Kristin sang out.
The rest of us laughed. "I meant long-term, after summer."
"I'll probably go to work for my dad," Shawna answered.
"No college?"
She shrugged. "I don't think college is for me. Besides, Dad is already holding a spot for me. He eventually wants me to manage his office so that I can learn everything there is to learn about real estate. He wants me to take over the company someday."
"That's cool," I said. I was much more comfortable discussing future plans now that I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, and the more comfortable I got with Kristin and her two friends, the easier it got for me to accept these developing relationships, for better or worse. "College isn't the only path."
"Yeah, but college is the most fun," Kristin said, directing the conversation back to her. "I'm going to major in partying."
I chuckled. "Seriously, Kris, don't you have any idea about what you want to do?"
"I AM serious," she said, her tone suddenly sounding that way. "I'm going to major in Hospitality and Tourism Management. It's something I've always been interested in. I've wanted to do it ever since Daddy began adding resorts as clients, back when I was, like, five."
Kristin's father was in advertising, and I already knew that she had traveled to resorts all over the Americas with him.
"Sounds interesting," I said. "What about you, Kimmie?"
"Kimmie's going to be a lawyer," chirped Kristin.
I was a little surprised by that, which showed how much I stereotyped cheerleaders. I knew Cassie, for example, was a good student, but I figured she was an exception among cheerleaders, especially since she wasn't one anymore, and never really wanted to be one in the first place. Then I thought about what I'd observed about Kimmie since we started hanging around together, and I realized that thinking about Kimmie in law school really wasn't that much of a stretch. I guess it was time for me to drop the cheerleader stereotype.
"That's cool," I echoed my earlier statement.
Kimmie sighed, "I guess."
"You guess?" I asked, my eyebrow raised, "It doesn't sound like you're too sure."
"No, law school would be great for me," she said, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Let me guess," I said, "Your parents want you to be a lawyer."
"Mostly my mom. Ever since she and Dad got divorced, she's intent on proving she's better off without him or any man. She thinks that being an attorney is a good way for me to get through life on my own. I'm not sure why she wants me to go that route, since Dad's a lawyer, unless it's to prove that a girl can be as successful as a guy."
I felt bad for Kimmie. I actually felt bad for most of the kids whose parents were divorced, especially if it was bitter. It seemed that so many of the kids felt like they were pawns in their parents' power struggle, or maybe they just felt broken, like their homes. I knew a lot of people looked at me and felt bad that my dad died when I was so young, but I can at least always go through life knowing that my parents loved each other until the very end.
"What do you really want to do?" I asked.
She looked at me for a second before her face split in a radiant smile. "Art. I want to be an art teacher."
"Really?" Kristin asked. "I never knew you wanted to be an art teacher. I just always thought it was a hobby."
Kimmie shrugged.
"She's really good, too," Shawna said, making Kimmie blush.
"Then you should do it," I said, then immediately thought that those seemed like bold words from a guy who didn't have a clue what she was going through. "But it's probably not that easy, is it?"
"It's no big deal. I'll always have my art as a hobby."
The early bell rang.
"Gotta go," Kristin said. She stood on her tiptoes and pecked me on the lips. "See you after class!"
She and Shawna headed down one hallway, while Kimmie and I continued the way we were walking, since she and I had first period across the hallway from each other. Mike Vincent appeared through the crowd a moment later and glared at me. I froze.
Mike Vincent, lovingly labeled by me and some of my crew as 'The Walking Dick', had been Kristin's on-again/off-again boyfriend for a couple of years. They'd been off-again when she was sinking her talons into me the previous semester, but that turned into on-again when he caught her trying to impale herself on my dick at a party. She claimed that I was trying to rape her, which also resulted in his fist touching my face in a very unpleasant way. Cassie facilitated a truce when he found out things weren't quite as they seemed. He then returned to treating me like I didn't exist. He'd gotten a new girlfriend over the holidays, so I really hadn't worried about him this whole semester while I'd gotten better acquainted with Kristin.
Now, though, the look in his eyes was enough to make me want to hide. When he started moving in our direction, I actually looked around for a soft place to land when I lost the inevitable fight that I knew was on the way.
"What's wrong?" Kimmie asked, from a few steps in front of me, where she'd stopped when she realized I wasn't beside her anymore. She followed my look. "What, Mike?"
"Uh..." I said, eloquently.
She sighed as she grabbed my elbow and began pulling me with her. "Brody; Mike and Kristin have moved on. He isn't interested in who she's dating."
I wasn't too sure, and as he continued in our direction, my doubts became blaring warnings.
We stopped moving when we were a few feet away from each other. Other kids gave us curious glances as they passed, obviously remembering last semester, but nobody else stopped.
"Hey, Kimmie," Mike grunted. "What's up, Brown?"
Now how do I answer that? Was it a loaded question, just a way to get me to say something about Kristin so he could pummel me?
"Hi, Mike," Kimmie said, and I could see she was obviously wondering if her earlier statement about them moving on was accurate after all.
"Not much," I said, hoping that he was really, truly just wanting to know what was up.
He looked me up and down, as if he was appraising his prey. "You ever thought about going out for football?"
I blinked twice. "Huh?"
"With me and the other guys graduating, there're some holes that need filling. We told Coach we'd look around for some guys who might be up for the job."
I was still so stunned by the unexpected question, that I didn't say anything.
Kimmie looked back and forth between the two of us, then shook her head in frustration.
"Brody's moving in the summer," she said.
Mike's eyebrows rose. "That so?"
I broke from my trance. "Uh, yeah, Arizona."
"Huh. Too bad." He looked me up and down one more time and then shrugged. "Oh, well. Later, Man."
We watched him walk away, then looked at each other. Kimmie smirked at me. It was then that I remembered what she said.
"You said a second ago that Mike doesn't care who Kristin is dating. I'm not dating Kristin."
Kimmie's smirk dropped as her brow furrowed. "You ... you're kidding, right?"
"Kimmie, I have never gone on a date with Kristin."
She rolled her eyes. "Boys are so clueless sometimes. You may not have ever gone out on an 'official' date, but you might as well have. It's common knowledge around the school that you and Kristin are girlfriend/boyfriend."
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Kimmie had to be joking. "Are you serious?"
"Brody, do you not listen to the gazillion rumors that pass through the hallways?"
"Uh, I kind of started ignoring them after what happened in the fall. You know, at the party?"
"Clueless," Kimmie mumbled. She glanced at the wall as if looking for a clock. Then she grabbed my wrist and started pulling me quickly towards our classrooms. "Why did you tense up when Mike came our way?"
"Huh?" I was still blown away by Kimmie's classification of me and Kristin.
"Why did you tense up when Mike came our way? Why did you think he was going to make a scene?"
I thought for a second. "Because I was afraid he thought Kristin and I..." My eyes opened wide. "Oh, shit."
We'd reached our classrooms. Kimmie turned to me as the last trickle of students raced to their classrooms. "Either embrace it, or break it off with Kristin. She may not show it much, but she has feelings, too."
That sounded an awful lot like what Cassie said. The late bell rang, and Kimmie gave me a sad smile before ducking into her classroom.
I slumped. I was such an idiot.
I was feeling particularly emotional that afternoon, but I didn't know the reason. I wondered if this is how girls felt when they got all hormonal during their periods. The whole exchange with Kimmie left me feeling out of sorts, then I saw Cassie holding hands with Brendan on the way to lunch. Danica saw them, too, and I could see the concern in her frown. I wondered if things had cooled off between them, but I saw Danica laughing as she got into Cassie's car after school. Cassie hadn't spoken to me in two days, not since our fight the night I had dinner with the Bartletts. I moped as I drove myself home. I was concerned about Cassie and Brendan, worried about her relationship with Danica, and bummed with the realization that my friendship with Cassie was dead, or at least on life support. I didn't have the energy to be angry at myself or anyone. I was just ... sad and lonely.
Kristin was waiting for me when I got home from school.
"I thought you had cheerleading practice," I said, as I stepped out of the car.
Kristin put on a faux pout. "Wow, try not to sound so excited to see me."
I tried to give her a reassuring smile. "I am ... glad ... to see you." I waited for that pang of guilt I always feel when I lie, except it didn't come. I suddenly realized ... I really was kind of glad to see her. "I was just surprised, that's all."
Her face dimpled as she threw her arms around me and gave me a hearty kiss. I hesitated at first, thinking how much this seemed like a very boyfriend/girlfriend thing to do. She was such a good kisser, though, that I slid my arms around her and returned the kiss. I could sort through all this relationship confusion later.
We were in my bedroom a few minutes later, kissing passionately beside the bed. They were long, slow kisses as our hands languidly explored each other's body. It was when I finally slipped my hand up under her shirt, nearly ten minutes after we started kissing, that I realized this was the longest we'd ever kissed at one time. She hummed happily into my mouth, and another sudden realization hit me and almost made me gasp.
I was treating Kristin like a cherished lover. For the first time, I wasn't just ripping her clothes off or roughly fucking her. Was it because of what Kimmie said, about how others viewed us as a couple? Was it because of what she and Cassie said about Kristin having feelings, too? Was it because I was so lonely? Whatever the reason, I was seeing her as something other than my penance, my punishment for not saving Fuzz.
Mom always said that you either developed intimacy with those you had feelings for, or else you developed feelings for those you were intimate with. I guessed she was right.
I broke the kiss and waited for Kristin to open her eyes. When she did, the pale green seemed to pierce me. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I slowly undressed her. She didn't say anything, just kept her wide eyes trained on mine. Her breathing was almost a pant, but not quite. Her t-shirt came off, followed by her shoes, socks, and jeans. I slid my hands up her bare arms, making her shiver, then coaxed her back onto my bed. She really was gorgeous, especially displayed on my bed in only her bra and panties with her hair fanned out on my pillow. Her expression was a mixture of affection and trepidation, and I was sure she was wondering where this tenderness came from.
"You're beautiful," I reverently said.
A small smile played across her lips as she blushed. She held her arms out to me.
"Make love to me," she said. I'd told her before that we didn't make love, but I didn't correct her this time.
I quickly stripped, then moved onto the bed and into her arms. Our lips met again as she pulled me down onto her. Her lips were soft and moist, and they were hungry for mine. She whimpered when I pulled away, but that turned to a moan as I nipped at her neck and shoulder. I kissed my way to her cleavage, up the slopes of her young breasts, and over the top of her bra, breathing hotly through the lace. She groaned and hunched her crotch up against mine when I caught her hard nipple between my teeth. I slipped my hands under her back and unclasped the unwanted barrier between us. There was nothing in the way when my mouth met the crinkled nub that tipped her breast this time. I paid homage to one breast before moving to the other, and while I suckled that one, I slipped my hand inside her panties and into her humid folds. I rubbed my palm against her swelling clit. She groaned again and pushed her pussy against my hand. Her hands came to my face and pulled mine back to her lips. We then divested her of her panties together. Instinct guided our bodies together, and the tip of my cock nudged her swollen labia apart.
She broke the kiss to look into my eyes again. "Oh, Brody," she sighed. As I ducked to capture her lips again, I let my body sag and my cock slowly sank into her heat. I swallowed the sigh that escaped her lungs as our bodies joined.
I kept the pace languid, taking long deep thrusts into her pussy while our hands and lips roamed. I occasionally paused deep inside her, mashing her clit, and rubbing it with the base of my cock, before slowly pulling out to resume my thrusting. She began to tremble after a few minutes. Her moaning was constant, and I knew she was close, so I moved my lips to her ear, breathing hotly and sucking the lobe.
"So good, Kris," I whispered, "So good. Come for me, Baby."
Her tremble became a quake, and with groan, she thrust her hips up and came.
"Ooo-ungh ... oh, God..." Her hips fell and mine fell with them, driving the head of my cock even deeper. "AAAH!!!" she squealed. I held her down with my hips as she convulsed beneath me, the spasms making her tortured clit rub against me and prolonging her pleasure.
When the tension fled her body, I feasted on her lips again and resumed my thrusting. I wanted to bring her off one more time before I came. She broke the kiss when the signs announced that she was close again.
"Oh, Brody ... I love this ... I love thiiiis..." I dropped my head and clamped my lips around her nipple and sucked hard. Her hips flew off the bed, her back arched, and her whole body seized for several seconds.
"OOOOOH!!!" she shrieked, as her muscles released. Her orgasm crashed through her body, and I sped up my thrusts as she shook in pleasure.
It took only another dozen strokes before I threw my head back and grunted as the soothing pleasure of my spunk raced up my shaft and filled her. I collapsed when the last drop left my body, catching my weight on my elbows. Her lips immediately sought mine and we kissed until my cock softened enough to slip from her in a wash of our fluids.
I rolled off her and onto my back, and she rolled with me, snuggling against my side with her head nestled on my shoulder. We didn't say anything as our breathing returned to normal.
"Amazing," she sighed, after a few minutes. "That was ... beautiful. That may have been the most beautiful thing I've ever been a part of."
I realized that she was right. Making love really was a beautiful thing. I felt closer to Kristin at that moment than I did at any other time. I pulled her tighter to me, and she hummed her satisfaction.
"That was making love, wasn't it, Brody?" she asked, and she sounded so young and unsure at that moment that I rolled onto my side so that our faces were only inches apart. Her eyes were wide and anxious. I pecked her lips with mine.
"Yeah, Kris, that was making love."
She looked into my eyes, as if searching for something.
"No one's ever made love to me like that. Do ... do you love me, Brody?"
I hesitated because I didn't quite know what I felt for Kristin. I didn't love her, not like I loved the other girls in my life. I didn't really know how I would classify it.
"Do you want me to love you?" I asked in return. "I mean REALLY fall in love with you? Could you love me like that in return?"
Now it was her turn to be quiet as she thought of her answer.
"I used to think that's what I wanted," she quietly said. "There's something amazing about the power I feel when boys follow me around like lovesick puppies. But with you ... I don't know. You're not like that. You don't act lovesick, and I'm glad you don't. Do I love you? I ... no, I don't. Not like you mean. I think I've really grown to care about you, though, and I didn't expect that. So, I guess ... no, I don't want you to love me, either." She looked into my eyes again. "But I hope you care about me."
"I do care about you," I honestly said. "I couldn't have made love with you if I didn't."
"Is that why you put the brakes on things at the party last fall, because you didn't have feelings for me?"
I nodded.
"And is that why you didn't want me to call our sex 'making love' before?"
I shook my head this time. "It's kind of complicated. I'm not sure I can really explain it."
She looked mildly disappointed at my non-answer, but she let it go. She wiggled to get a bit more comfortable. "So, what are you doing for spring break?"
The mention of spring break brought Mia and Shay to mind. I didn't want to think about them at that moment.
"We're supposed to go to Texas."
"The Gulf Coast! Fun."
"Not exactly. Some ranch in western Texas."
She wrinkled up her nose. "Interesting choice; friends or family?"
"Uh, family." For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell her I was meeting my girlfriends. "What are your plans?"
Her eyes lit up. "Daddy's taking us to a new resort on Barbados that he's hoping to add as a client."
"Cool. Just your family?"
"They'll be other people from the agency going. Some of them have kids that I'm friends with, so I'll have people to hang out with." She stuck her bottom lip out in her classic pout. "I wish you could go with me, though. We'd have sooo much fun." She licked my chest and giggled.
I smiled, but my heart wasn't in it. I was thinking about Mia and Shay. I knew it was a totally jerky thing to do—thinking about other girls when you are with a different one—but Kristin's questions about spring break reminded me that I had a lot of emotional shit to work out and not very much time to do it.
Come to think of it, an island escape sounded great, ... preferably a DESERTED one.
I couldn't get that afternoon out of my head. I'm a fuck up. That's the only way to describe it. I never wanted to have a relationship with Kristin, and when it happened, I never intended for there to be feelings involved. I didn't feel as guilty about things when it was just sex. I mean, Mia and Shay both said they didn't expect us to be exclusive, but along the way I'd somehow developed feelings for Kristin, and I felt like I was cheating. True, my feelings for Kristin were NOTHING like what I felt for my sun-bunnies out west. But they WERE feelings, and I hadn't even told Mia and Shay that Kristin was in the picture at all.
Why didn't I feel the same guilt over Cassie? Was it because Mia and Shay knew about Cassie, and even encouraged our relationship? That was probably part of it. My feelings for Cassie were stronger than my feelings for Kristin, though, and yet I didn't feel a bit of guilt. Maybe it was because Cassie was content to be a friend and our feelings were strongest in that relationship, whereas my relationship with Kristin would be almost entirely romantic. She said she didn't love me, but I wasn't sure there was anywhere else to go if we planned to maintain our relationship. I knew we could fall for each other if we let ourselves, just as I knew she would demand exclusivity if we let things get that far.
Mia, Shay, Cassie, Danica, and Kristin. My head hurt. I was so fucking confused, and to make things worse, I wasn't even sure whether or not Cassie was still my best friend. I pretty much blew that relationship to hell.
"Why are you picking at your food, Brody?"
I glanced up at Mom, then back at the spaghetti I'd been pushing around my plate.
"I'm just not hungry, I guess," I said, shrugging.
Mom put her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "When are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?"
"Nothing's bothering me, Mom. I said I'm just not hungry."
"Brody, I've been your mother for sixteen years, and I know when something's up. I told myself to give you some space after the accident, give you time to pull out of this funk on your own, but you just seem to be sinking deeper into it."
I was not in the mood to have this conversation. "I'm fine," I curtly said, as I scooped my plate and glass up and carried them to the kitchen counter.
"What are you doing?" Mom evenly asked.
"If I'm not hungry, why waste my time eating? I have plenty of homework."
"Don't walk away from me, Son."
I could hear the mixture of pleading and frustration in her voice, but my emotions got the best of me. I slammed my dishes on the counter hard, not even caring if they broke or not. They didn't.
"There's nothing to talk about!" I snapped at Mom. "Why does everyone keep saying that? What's really starting to piss me off is that people won't BUTT OUT!"
"Brody, please..."
I glared at her as I stormed past.
"I have homework."
I slammed my bedroom door and flopped onto my bed, not bothering to grab my backpack. I lay there, swimming in my anger, counting all the ways I'd been wronged by the world. I wholly expected Mom to follow me, and I was tensed up and ready to fight if she did. I felt myself deflate when the minutes passed and she never came. Why, oh WHY, was I treating her and Cassie like dirt? Why was I shutting them out?
After another fifteen minutes of sinking deeper into my personal hell, I grabbed my science book and tried to study. My thoughts kept seeing the look on Mom's face when I stormed out of the kitchen. She looked ... stricken, hurt, and helpless. Walking out on Mom was probably the most despicable thing I could do. We promised we'd always be there for each other when Dad died, and in my opinion, walking out was like saying I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I owed her an apology, but no matter how many times I told myself that, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was just too emotionally low, stuck twelve feet down in a hole with no idea about how to get out. Besides, what would I say? An apology wouldn't be enough. She'd expect me to be ready to talk about things, and I knew I couldn't do that yet.
I chewed on this for another hour as I struggled through first my science, then my English homework. Finally, after reading the same stupid paragraph in 'All Quiet on the Western Front', I ground to a halt. The guilt was just too much. Thinking of Mom in her own room, hurt and alone, worried about me and at a loss for how to help me, was almost too much to bear. I forced myself off my bed and out of my room. I slowly walked to Mom's room, but hesitated beside the partially open doorway. I figured if she wanted to be left alone, she would have closed her door. I listened for a few minutes and could hear some quiet sniffles. That pricked my heart and steeled my resolve. I'd say I was sorry, and I'd ask Mom to give me some more time. I stepped into the doorway and froze.
Mom was on her knees beside her bed, her elbows bent on the edge, with her forehead resting on her clasped hands. My mind immediately went back to the last time I saw her praying. She was in an almost identical position the night Dad died. She didn't realize I was watching then either, and I could hear words that night. She prayed for strength so she could deal with the pain of being alone, then she prayed that she could be strong for me, to help me deal with losing Dad. I imagined her words were something similar as I watched her this time.
We weren't particularly religious, but I knew that Mom believed in God. If she was resorting to calling on deity, I must have been worse off than I thought. I could feel my throat tighten and my eyes smart, but I held my tears in check. I must have made a sound, because Mom raised her head and looked at me. Her face was streaked with tears, and I felt as low as I'd ever felt. She slowly rose, never taking her eyes off me.
"I'm s-sorry, Mom," I said, my voice breaking. I went on before I could chicken out. "I ... I miss Fuzz."
Her face softened. "Brody..."
My eyes welled with tears again. "It's my fault he's gone, Mom, and I don't think I can live with that." I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to keep my composure with all my strength.
I didn't want to cry. Dammit, I did not want to cry. I didn't know why I was so afraid to. Maybe I thought I wouldn't stop if I started. Maybe I just didn't want to appear weak. I really didn't know, but I suddenly felt Mom's arms around me.
"It's OK, Brody, it's OK," she soothed. "It's OK, Baby."
She didn't try to tell me it WASN'T my fault he was dead, and I was grateful for that, for some reason. I'd heard people say that too many times, but they weren't there that day; they didn't know what I knew. Mom held me tight, let me rest my face in her neck, and comforted me with her presence. We stood that way for a long time, and I let her love and closeness slowly melt all the tension away. She was gently rubbing my back and rocking me from side to side. Neither of us said anything; we just touched.
I actually felt my eyes getting heavy and my legs getting weak as I stood there. I was absolutely drained.
"Can I..." I croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Can I sleep with you? Please?"
"Of course, Sweetie," she softly said.
We hadn't slept together since the accident. What had become commonplace between us—sleeping together, not sex—hadn't happened in weeks, and I realized I should probably apologize for that, too, since it was my fault. I didn't say anything, though, as Mom moved me next to the bed. She efficiently stripped us down to our underthings, helped me into bed, and crawled in beside me. She gathered me back in her arms, and I curled against her, feeling like I was five years old again. I was drifting in and out of sleep within minutes.
"I love you, Mom," I slurred. "I'm sorry..."
"I love you, too, Brody."
Her whispered words carried me into the blackness.
"Help! Help me!"I am dragging myself to the Barletts' SUV, hoping I won't be too late.
"Brody, help! The pain ... the pain, help me!"
I hesitate, looking back at Fuzz's car as he calls out for me. I turn back, intent on helping him.
"Please, oh God, please help..." This new voice stops me in my tracks. I look to my left, and there is Shay, naked, looking down at her crotch, which is a white frothy mess. She looks up at me, her eyes pleading. "Brody, why don't you help me?"
Then Mia is beside her, or at least a younger version of Mia, and she has tears in her eyes. "You won't help me, either. He touches me and wants to hurt me, but you won't help."
Another groan of pain—this time to my right. Another car, an old one from my memory.
"Brody," calls a raspy voice. "You're going to let me die..."
My eyes fill with tears. "Dad?" I call out tentatively as I step to the car. My eyes widen when I see him, my dad, his face bruised and bloody.
"Why, Brody?" he rasps, and then coughs, more blood spraying from his lips.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I cry. "I don't know what to do."
"Why, Brody?" Mia and Shay beg.
"Why won't you help me?" Connie Bartlett cries, "Why won't you help my daughter?"
"Why won't you help us?" Fuzz wails.
They repeat themselves over and over.
"I don't know what to do!" I wail.
Their words are a discordant symphony that soon swells to a deafening roar. I collapse to my knees and cover my ears with my hands, trying to block it out.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Brody, Brody, wake up."
I was startled awake, and it took me a terrifying second to remember that I was in Mom's bed.
"It's OK, Sweetheart," Mom's soothing voice tried to calm me. "Just a bad dream, Baby, it's OK now."
I let out a shuddering sigh. "I'm OK, Mom. I'm awake."
I felt her body relax, but her hands remained on me, caressing me, soothing me.
"Another bad dream?" she asked.
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