Page 11 of The Curve
“What about family? His? Yours? Didn’t they want to be involved?”
“You’re thinking too logically.” I laugh a little at my words. “Family involvement has never been an issue for me. Ever. My parents weren’t in the picture. I lived with my grandmother, and she passed away when Mallory was three. Will came from such a dysfunctional family, and of course they never knew about the baby. I didn’t want my girl to find them or be around them, so I said he lived with an uncle. That’s part of the reason we moved from Pittsburgh to Memphis.”
“Damn. What you’ve been up against is more than most of us ever experience.”
“Be happy for that. Anyway, that’s why I’ve worked so hard to create a stable home for Mallory. I’m devoted to it.”
“What about the burn? How did that happen?”
I take a deep breath.
“She was at her best friend’s home for Fourth of July three years ago. The girl’s brother had some illegal fireworks. He threw one in the bedroom the girls were hiding in to scare them. It was a horrible.”
The memory wounds me still and it all comes back as I tell it. I cover my face with my hands, suddenly overwhelmed by my own story. Tears wet my eyes. Oh shit. I haven’t cried about any of it for years. What a stupid time to pick now.
“Oh, Charlotte! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I wave away his concerns and keep myself hidden. Then I feel a strong arm around my shoulders. He’s come to my side, kneeling on the blanket. He pulls me to him and whispers in my ear. “Just let it out. Let go. I’ve got you.”
That’s all I needed to shove me off the cliff I’ve stood guard on alone all these years, and onto the unstable sands of sorrow. I never allowed myself the indulgence of spending much time pitying my circumstances. But it can’t be stopped right now. I cry.
“I’m sorry…oh God,” I squeak out.
A gentle kiss lands on the top of my head and it shocks me. A tiny hiccup brings my tears to a whimpering halt.
He lifts my chin and looks me in the eyes. “There. Feel better now?”
I just nod my agreement.
“Sometimes we need to wail at the universe. You almost had me crying too.”
I chuckle a little. “Am I scaring you? I said way more than I ever have to a person who’s practically a stranger.”
“Not at all. And we’re not strangers. I want to get to know you, Charlotte. All of you.”
Sweet Jesus.
“I’d love to know you too, Atticus. As a friend. Can you do that?”
His expression tells me he didn’t expect to still be in the category.
“Why just a friend? Who knows what we’re going to discover? Maybe you’ll want me as your lover.”
He smiles a naughty grin and tips his chin down. Chocolate brown eyes gaze up. It’s almost overwhelming. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.
“What? No! I’m not looking for a lover. I have no idea how long I’ll be staying in Memphis and you don’t need a lover with baggage like mine.”
His expression softens. “I’m just messin’ with you.”
“But I’d be happy to make a new friend.” I say it firmly, but inside I know better. My real self is laughing hysterically at my response.Liar,she says.
“Whatever you say, Charlotte.”
* * *
After spillingmy guts I got Atticus to talk. But there were no dark chapters in his life, not in his childhood or adult years. All except for Brick’s wife’s death. That was a heartbreaking story. Maybe that’s why he’s so focused on his job. Even when I cut his hair he’s on the phone. And when he’s not I’ve sensed he likes the quiet best, because he closes his eyes.
The brothers talk about each other with great affection. When I told Atticus, he looked happy. The sister, Bristol, is the only female sibling. He says when she heard I didn’t care for baseball she was glad. Hmm. That means he was talking about me to his family. Why does that make me happy? It’s the opposite of what I profess to want.
