Page 20 of Ash
“She is,” Wade nods. “Mom is the strongest person I know. And I wish–” He trails off as he looks down at his water bottle.
“Wish what?” I urge him gently, not wanting to pressure him.
“I wish that she didn’t have to be strong all the time. She’s so tired. It’ll be okay though; things will get easier in a couple years. I’ll be able to work and drive for her, so she won’t have to worry so much.” My heart tightens as I remember saying those exact words to my mother when I was fifteen. I found her in the bathroom, curled up on the floor sobbing while using the bathroom fan and shower as noise to hide her cries. She was exhausted, beyond exhausted. I think at that point she was working over a hundred hours a week between her multiple jobs, and Indy had been so sick with a chest cold. I remember pulling her from the laying position on our old peel-and-stick bathroom tile.
“Mom!” I shake my inconsolable mother by the shoulders as she continues to cry. “Mom, please!” I choke out, not knowing how to fix whatever is happening. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m…so tired,” she croaks out, her head hanging low. “I… I can’t do this anymore, Ashy, baby… I can’t be everywhere I need to.” Pulling my tiny mom to me, I let her cry into my chest as I stroke her hair, trying so hard to find a solution to her problem.
“What if I started doing schoolwork at home?” I suggest softly. “I only have a year before I can get my GED. I could stay home with Indy, and in a few months, I’ll have a license. I’ll be able to go to the store and stuff while you get some sleep. And I could get a side job, so you don't have to work so much, okay? Please, mom, don’t cry, I’ll take care of you and Indy, I promise.”
Pulling into the parking space in front of the art supply store, I turn off my car and take a breath as I rub my chest.
“Wade,” I turn to look at the kid. Shoulders hunched, knee bobbing and brows drawn together. What he feels, I can’t say it’s wrong. It’s good that he wants to help his mom. But that constant panic running through him, that will only eat him alive, and I hate seeing it in someone else. He looks at me with a stare that tells me he doesn’t want to have this conversation, and I give him a smirk.
“So, I know that your mom gave you money and blah blah blah. But come on, let me get you some stuff that’ll make you the envy of your class.” Wade’s eyes brighten and his smile grows so wide as he opens his door, too excited to wait in the car any longer.
Chapter9
Sunday
The last class let out about fifteen minutes ago, and I’m alone in the studio. Ash said he would be here in thirty, stating that he and Wade had lost track of time. I am curious what the two of them did all day. I was under the impression that he would drop Wade off either here or with Stevie after the art store. Evidently, I was wrong.
I listen as the music starts playing the next song and I sway my hips as I grab my pole. It’s not often that I get to dance at my level since I’m always in ‘instructor’ mode. I effortlessly swing around the pole before sliding down, rocking my hips to the beat. I drop to my knees, grabbing the pole over my head and sliding around the floor before pulling myself back up the pole. I hear something metal hitting the floor and jerk my head to find Ash scrambling to grab his keys.
“Oh,” I say casually as I hang upside down on the pole. “Hey, Charming, where’s my kid?”
“H-home,” he says, his dark eyes looking over every inch of my body. “Indy is playing…cards or something.” I give him a sly smirk as I turn myself upright.
“Charming,” I purr flirtatiously. “Am I swooning you?”
He lets out a nervous puff of air. “There’s a distinct possibility that my knees are a little weak.” I let go of the pole as my feet touch the ground and laugh lightly.
“A little pole dancing is all it takes, huh? I have to say, I’m kind of disappointed,” I tease while walking up to the sound system and turning off the music. I reach down to grab my sweatpants and can’t stop the smirk creeping on my face as I hear Ash breathe out a, “Jesus fucking Christ, thank you.”
“Charming, you are a pig.” I laugh as I slip my grey sweats over my black booty shorts. I grab my zip-up jacket and turn to put it on when I nearly crash into Ash. I let out a squeak of surprise as I stumble backwards. Ash grabs my hip to steady me and… fucking hell, that touch shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
“Ash,” I breathe out when he doesn’t go to pull away. Why was he so close, anyway? I stare up at his tired face into his deep, dark eyes and I feel it. I feel the pull. I feel the heat on my hip as his thumb runs over my waistband. Flashes of me slamming into the mirror as his mouth covers every inch of me go through my brain andSTOP. “What are you doing?” I ask, and my question seems to pull him out of whatever trance he’s in. Blinking, he releases me and takes a step back, taking his warmth with him.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat and looks around the studio. “You’re really good. Ever think about doing it professionally?” My face falls and I watch the mortification appear on his now ghost white face. “O-oh my god, no! I didn’t mean… not that there’s anything wrong with strippers. I love them… wait, no, I mean.”
I think about allowing him to continue to dig himself further into this hole, but I’m tired and need a ride home, so I throw him a bone and laugh. “I was a stripper, but I made more money teaching, and I like not working late nights.” I shrug and I slip my socks and sneakers on.
“Sunshine, I really didn’t mean anything by that. I meant dancing professionally, like on stage. I’m just a fucking idiot. You already told me that you can’t. Sorry, I’m just…” I wave him off.
“Charming, I had a kid at thirteen, was thrown out by my family, and I’m divorced. Trust me when I say you are going to have cut deeper than that to hurt this skin. You know I had to give it up once already. It’s nice that you think I could, but my epilepsy got too bad and the combination of medications the doctors were trying was making it hard to remember the moves for the dances. So, I had to quit. Got married, needed quick cash, and became a stripper. But my goal, once I sell this place and go back down to Alabama, is to open a ballet studio. I always wanted to teach kids and teens.”
“That’s amazing,” Ash beams and I’m taken back slightly. Most tell me that teaching kids ballet is a waste of time and giving up my very successful business to do that is irresponsible. “I remember Indy loved ballet when she was a kid. It gave her so much confidence, and she really needed it, too. Considering our childhood.”
“Your childhood?” I ask, zipping up my jacket as we walk out of the dance studio and into the cooling night air.
“Ahh, yeah.” He laughs almost uncomfortably. “My dad was not the best man, which I’ve mentioned before, I think. He left my mom with Indy and I when I was about ten… maybe eleven. So, she had to raise us on her own.” I nod knowingly. Those struggles are all too familiar to me.
“That must’ve been hard for y’all,” I say as evenly as possible, remembering how he reacted in the hospital after he opened up following my seizure.
Ash opens the passenger door for me, and I refuse to acknowledge the sweet gesture. “I mean, it wasn’t great,” he says while staring off into the distance, as if remembering something. “I felt for a long time that it was my fault, you know? I mean, he was good to my mom before I was born and then after,” he trails off and my heart begins to ache. I think about Wade, and this here is my worst fear, my sweet, perfect son thinking for even a second he wasn’t good enough. The streetlights reflect in Ash’s eyes, and I see the glassiness in them. Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches out and cups his cheek, startling us both.
“Sunday,” he breathes as his hand gently wraps around my wrist.
