Page 40 of To Save Him

I felt my head shaking back and forth, oh, so slowly, and I forced myself to look up at his face from my hands.  Up this close, I could see his features clearly—those handsome, captivating features:  strong jawline, slight cleft in his chin, amazing cheekbones, eyes as dark as a deep forest, and they had the same effect on my soul as the serenity of nature.  “Brandon…I’m not sure how to say what I need to say.  Can I—can I be honest with you?”

His voice was soft.  “Of course.”

I swallowed, gritting my teeth, and I looked down at his lips.  Eye contact was far too difficult to maintain.  “I…my thoughts.  About you.”  Each phrase was difficult to spit out, because even if truth was the best, that didn’t mean it was easy.  “They haven’t been entirely appropriate.  So…”  Now I forced myself to look in his eyes, but I couldn’t read them.  Oh, shit.  I was probably scaring him off for good, ruining our easy friendship, fucking up this poor kid’s life more than it already was.  “I know this is going to sound weird, but can you—can you put your shirt back on while we work?  I don’t want you thinking this is your fault.  I’m in a strange place and—”

“Yeah, no.  That’s fine.”

Shit.  Yes, I’d made things awkward between us.  Ridiculously awkward.  But I hoped we could see past it.  Just that odd new feeling rushing through my spine caused my veins to turn off any sexual thoughts that had been brewing.  God, I was feeling guilty like I used to as a kid.  I’d been the kind of child who punished herself with remorse long before any adult could sit me in the corner or swat me across the butt.

Brandon pulled his tank out of his back pocket and pulled it over his head.  “So it’s okay if I just use the weed whacker on the grass?  I don’t think it’ll take long.  If I do it now, it should be done by dark.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Fortunately, that implement didn’t run on gas.  I’d bought it after Mel had begun slacking in his duties around the house.  Because it was for me and not him, I chose the electric one.  I didn’t want to mess around with gas.  Maybe I needed to buy a mower like that one, too.

I didn’t want to just stand around watching Brandon work, so I started taking care of the dead weeds he’d been working on before, stuffing them inside the trashcan.  There was something satisfying about the snaps and crackles the dead weeds made as I bent them to fit inside the barrel.

It was growing dark now, though, so I walked up on the patio and reached inside the doorway, flipping on the floodlights for the yard.  Much better.  I should’ve done it earlier.  I looked over the yard, once again yearning for a swimming pool in that expanse.  The promise of water had been one of the many reasons we’d chosen this particular area of the county to live in, but that plan, like so many others, had gone by the wayside as my marriage to Mel crumbled.

Once all the weeds were cleared out, I took a step back to survey the landscape.  The kids’ old swing set huddled up against the house and I felt a heavy pang of sadness descend upon my shoulders.  I thought then that I should probably get rid of it, but that idea made me even sadder.  I blinked and looked over at Brandon.  As if on cue, he stopped pushing the button that drove the string around and around and looked over at me.  “What do you think?”

I laughed, because it was better than crying.  “It looks a lot better than I ever would have expected.”

He nodded.  “It’ll do till we can get the lawnmower running again.”

I couldn’t say what a relief those words were to me.  That one little sentence communicated so much to me—that he forgave my indiscretion, that he was going to stay and let me help him, that I hadn’t ruined our relationship.  It was as if a cinderblock fell from my back, and I smiled.  “Thanks for your help, Brandon.”

“No problem.”  We spent a few minutes putting things back in the shed before heading inside.  It was early enough in the season that there weren’t a lot of bugs bouncing off the bright lights midway up the house.  Another month or so and they’d be thick.

That made me realize just how much it had cooled off as well, and I was glad to be heading in.  I closed and locked the back door after Brandon came in so I wouldn’t have to lock it at bedtime, and we made our way to the kitchen.  We’d both eaten sandwiches before working on the lawn, so I didn’t know that we’d want to eat, but my mouth was parched.  “You thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

“I made some iced tea.  It’s in the fridge.  Would you mind pouring a couple of glasses?  I want to wash my hands.”

“Yeah, I should too before I touch anything.”

So I washed up and then got the glasses out of the cabinet, but he’d already taken the tea out of the refrigerator.  There were still a few unmelted cubes of ice in the pitcher, telling me the beverage would be cool and refreshing.  Before I could pour it, though, Brandon was pouring water in his glass from the faucet and he guzzled it all down.  I poured myself a glass of tea and gulped a few swallows.  Brandon was quiet, and I imagined he’d go to bed now.  Even though we seemed to be okay again, I figured we’d need at least one night to sleep on it before things stopped feeling awkward and stilted.

He walked over to the counter where I stood, and I figured he wanted some tea.  Why the hell was he so quiet?  “You said out there that you were…that your thoughts weren’t appropriate?”

Oh, fuck.  No.  I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.  I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened and just go on as usual.  But my breath was shallow and I couldn’t find any words, so I just nodded slowly.

“As in…?”

I blinked, feeling confused.  He wasn’t really expecting me to tell him in sordid detail, was he?  And I wouldn’t anyway.  A woman’s fantasies are private—at least mine about sweet, young Brandon were, and I was taking the damn things with me to the grave.

Thegrave.

I tried to shake my head but I couldn’t move it.  I was frozen by his gaze, and I couldn’t figure out what it meant.

Until his hands touched my face and he said, “I thought it was just me.”

And then the floor fell out from underneath my feet, leaving me to freefall to my impending doom.

 

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