Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Cedric nodded his head, seeming way too amused. “So, she sent me to do some digging. Remember? I was the one that finally got it out of you. You were lovesick.”
Allison slapped her knee. “Lovesick! That’s a good way to describe it. My tough, tattooed, hard as nails brother had turned into a lovesick puppy.”
Looking utterly entertained, Skylar curled into Mitch and glanced over at me. “So, you couldn’t hide it anymore, huh?”
“Being away from her for those two weeks felt like an unbearable eternity. It’s funny how being physically apart from someone can intensify the physical need for them. Those days were pivotal because not only did they confirm that I needed to come clean to her the second she came back, but they also made me more determined than ever to find a way to be with her. Losing her wasn’t an option anymore because it felt like I needed her to breathe. I convinced myself that I’d find a way to make it work. Toward the end of the vacation, I basically decided to stop hiding the fact that I wanted her¸ too. I let her clearly know it.”
“In what way?” Mitch asked.
“Things started getting sexual between us while we were apart. Maybe it was because of the safety barrier of separation or distance, but I just stopped holding back in that area.”
“TMI,” Allison shouted.
“Not at all,” Skylar said as she crossed her legs and leaned in. “Do tell.”
CHAPTER 16
Past
I spit out a piece of stale fruit cake into a red and green Christmas napkin and discreetly dumped it in the garbage, opting for a cookie instead. The buffet choices were limited at the annual Christmas Eve party held at the group home. I’d brought a tray of pigs in a blanket appetizers that people scarfed down within the first ten minutes.
About a dozen family members, residents and social workers packed into the small dining area. It was about four in the afternoon, and most were getting ready to leave.
Sipping hot apple cider, Ivy was in a quiet mood as we sat in the corner.
“Are you going to your sister’s house for Christmas stuff tonight?” she asked.
“After I leave here, yes, but I’ll stay with you as late as you want.”
“Okay,” she said, anxiously looking up at the clock.
“I won’t leave till you tell me to, Ivy. Alright?”
She didn’t respond. During most visits, she typically kicked me out way before I usually planned to leave anyway.
Half of the residents had gone home to their respective families for the holiday weekend. While Allison and Cedric told me that Ivy was welcome at the house, bringing her there was something I’d avoided. The one year she came home with me for Christmas Eve, she had an episode that scared the living daylights out of my nieces. It wasn’t worth taking the risk again, especially since Ivy wasn’t comfortable there anyway, so there was no point in pushing it.
“Can I give you your present now?” I asked, taking an envelope out of the inner pocket of my jacket.
She shook her head. “I’m not in the mood.”
Shopping for Ivy was tough because she never liked what I bought for her. Anything of sentimental value, like jewelry, seemed to make her sad or angry. She hated any of the clothing I picked out. The one thing I knew she’d appreciate and actually use (aside from cigarettes, which I refused to buy her) was a Dunkin Donuts gift card. Ivy took daily walks there, and I made sure she had enough credit on the card to last her a year. Their coffee was her favorite, heavy on the cream and sugar, and I usually picked her up a hot one before each of my visits.
A few of the residents played instruments, so as was tradition at this yearly shindig, the slightly off-key Christmas music started to ring out in the opposite corner of the room. Joe, a middle-aged man, belted out the harmonica while Charleen, a girl in her twenties, played the electric keyboard. Junior, a guy in his thirties, who was somewhat hearing-impaired, played the guitar.
Ivy’s eyes focused on Junior’s hands as he worked the strings. Although she was once a talented guitarist, she refused to play anymore, and that made me extremely sad for her. Her Gibson always sat unused in the corner of her bedroom as if it were a phantom from a previous life. Anytime I suggested that she try playing, Ivy would become irate.
She continued to quietly watch her housemates perform. Listening to the slow melody, I’d almost nodded off before my eyes wandered downward. Ivy’s fingers were starting to move to the rhythm of the music as she stayed transfixed on Junior’s guitar. She was playing in the air and positioning her fingers exactly where they would go if she were actually performing along with them. It was the first time she’d ever done anything like that.