Cider House Fools, page 19
Whittaker backs away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Goldie stop. Before you say something you regret.”
I jerk in amazement, widening my eyes. How dare he whip out an old nickname at a time like this. Is he purposefully stoking my flames? Someone hand me my fucking Oscar. “Say something I regret? Did you mean do something I regret? Because that’s already happened. So why don’t I just go on ahead and say all the shit that’s been boiling in here,” I stab my finger into my chest so hard my shoulders jerk, “every fucking day since the three of you abandoned me! I’m sure you have things to say as well. Let’s lay it all out on the table once and for all.”
The screen door slams against the house. “What the fuck is going on out here?” Franklin roars as he pitches off the steps. He looks pissed. Well fuck him. He can line up with the other three assholes who deemed me not worthy. I’m more than pissed. I have ten years of pent of fury. I’m a fucking pressure cooker and my lid deserves to blow.
“Bennett is losing her shit.” Balthasar holds up a hand. Franklin actually stops. “Don’t come any closer. She needs to get this off her chest.” Franklin stays where he’s at, pressing his mouth shut to prepare for the incoming onslaught, as he looks at Balthasar. I watch the two of them communicate nonverbally and I know. The shared glances, and the fact he listens to Balthasar, adds jet fuel to my fire. They know each other. Biblically.
“Oh ho, this is rich. I knew it! I fucking knew it. Did you fuck him first Balth? Did you find my big, burly, beautiful best friend and fuck the memory of his last boyfriend away for him?” I turn to Franklin. His eyes plead with me to stop but I can’t. The seal has been broken. The faucet handles have snapped off. I am a fount of hellfyre, and it has nowhere to go but up and out. “Be careful with this one Balthasar. He sucks you right in until your good and gone and then drops you into the friend zone so expertly you don’t even realize your zip code’s changed.”
“Did you tell them Franklin? They should know. You all should give me credit. The three of you tossed me aside like trash but I picked myself right the fuck back up, dusted myself off, and made something of myself. The going got shaky for a while when I made the colossal mistake of falling for this guy but hey, he had this oh, so, convenient reason to give up on women so why not lump me in with a whole sex and toss me out too? I mean, you know I know how to land on my feet right?” I ask, throwing my arms wide, waiting to welcome the applause and cries of encore I’ve earned.
“God damn it, Bennett. That is not fair!” Franklin lunges across the drive. Smith steps in front of him, his broad form like a cement wall. “Really?” Franklin spits. “You really think I’d lay hands on her?”
“I kind of feel like shaking some sense into her,” Balthasar offers.
Smith steps aside. Franklin stays where he is standing. The four of them blur as my eyes sting. Fat, hot tears claw their way across my eyeballs, then betray me by falling in streams down my frozen cheeks.
“Do you know how many times I wanted to come home? Do you know how badly I needed to come home? But I never could because Smith wasn’t here and you two wouldn’t leave! Nobody bothered coming after me. Nobody called. Not one of you. Not even when I…not that I needed any of you for that. I had Franklin, the best friend a girl could have.” Emotional maturity and logic have left the building. Nothing I’m saying makes any sense to anyone but me. I blink hard, clearing my throat, as I angrily swipe at my face. I should stop now, but it’s too late. I have to finish now that I’ve started. Might as well get it all out.
None of them are reacting. They’re just staring like dumb cows. “She’s not going to know if you’re here or not. She’s dead. She’s dead and that makes me the same kind of asshole to her that the three of you were to me. Different crime, same amount of time,” I mumble, giggling. I undo my coat, but this time I let it slide off my shoulder, dropping in a heap on top of my purse as they fall to the ground. I am boiling hot. A gust of wind pierces through my knit sweater. It’s a blessed relief until a violent shiver vibrates through my body, so hard I stumble.
“I hate all of you,” I announce as another shiver racks my frame. All three of them abandoned me in one or another. Even Franklin. I gasp as the pain of that revelations sinks into me, weighing me down until I’m staggering like a drunk. An overwhelming desire to lay down sweeps through me. I turn to the house, drawn to glow of the warm light cascading across the driveway through the window in the door. That’s my goal. To get in the house and crawl into my bed. I feel better, having decided on a plan of action. But that’s the exact moment the world tilts and decides to abandon me too.
The first thing I sense is the light floral scent of Gran’s perfume. As I dig through layers of sleep thickened consciousness I wait for the gentle press of her cool hand on my forehead, or for the bed to depress as she sits down next to me and wraps her thin arms around me. But then I realize the room is cold. The perfume is faded, and the air is stale. The odor of sickness lingers, edging out the perfume. Not even the ghost of her arms is available to comfort me.
I sit up, wincing as my head reminds me I bashed it against something hard yesterday. The room is blessedly dark, lit by only the moonlight filtering through the window. Male laughter floats down the hall and through the crack of the partially opened door. Gingerly I pick up one leg and then the other, sliding them over the side of the bed until I’m sitting. My cell phone blinks on the bedside table. Along with a dripping bottle of cold apple juice and a note. “Drink this. Dinner is ready when you are.”
I wish there were some ibuprofen or acetaminophen lying next to the juice. I pick up the note and hold it up, so the light from the window shines on it. At the bottom of the square of paper it says, “Not until you eat.”
A smile quirks up the corners of my mouth. I sip the apple juice, feeling the sugar flood my system. I feel less woozy and tired, and my hands stop shaking. Until I remember my little performance in the driveway. I scooch back against the headboard, drawing my knees up to my chest. I bury my face, careful to avoid whacking the mushy part on my patellas. Hot tears soak through the fabric of my pants.
The door squeaks. For a split second, my heart leaps with hope that it could be Gran. Until an entirely too deep voice says, “Here.” I lift my face, just enough to roll my eyeball up and get a peek of what’s being offered. A tissue is waggled in front of me.
“Thanks.” I snatch the tissue and blow my nose. A full-on, unattractive honk full of congestion. It’s the kind of blow that needs a real hanky, the one a girl can only do in front of a guy who’s seen her at her absolute worse. I don’t hesitate, because it’s Franklin.
He slumps down on the side of the bed. “Don’t touch me,” I grouse.
“That’s pitiful. You can do better than that,” he smiles. The corners of his mouth are tight, and his eyes are sad. He reaches out and ruffles my hair. My hand whips out and slaps his before I can stop myself.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. I drop my head and try to swallow the wail that my knees do a piss poor job of muffling. “I di-didn’t mean to slap your hand. I want you to touch my hair now. I mean, if you want to…fu…fuck, dang it, Franklin, I didn’t mean any of that. I…I’m so sorry,” I shudder, sobbing into my knees. I’m absolutely miserable, listening to the low murmur of conversation down the hall from Gran’s room. They are all out there socializing, maybe eating, doing all the things people who aren’t drowning in grief and guilt do.
“Yes, you did. And—”
“No I didn’t!” I wail. “You’re my person and I treated you like a piece of dog shit.” A wave of grief tears through me and it hurts so bad I can’t breathe. No wonder they say grief is an ocean. It’s endless, spreading far past the horizon. The pain is a tidal wave that pounds me into the sand, withdrawing and returning to crash over me again before I can push my wobbling legs straight and walk out of the water. I can’t escape what I’ve said. It’s all there, out in the open. The wild pendulum of my behavior is going to cost me everything.
“Would you stop for a second and let me say something? Good God woman, you’re crying so hard you can’t breathe. You’re getting snot everywhere.” He crawls over me. The bed depresses and pitches me towards him until he crosses over me. His spicy, smokey cologne overwhelms the delicate florals Gran left behind. I close my eyes as I breathe him in, letting his aromatic scent calm me. My breath hitches, slowing as I lean against him, shamelessly harnessing the anxiolytic effect.
He tucks me into his side and strokes my hair the way I like, lulling my body into a relaxed state when he admits something I thought I’d never hear. “You’re right. I discounted you because of someone else’s actions. I held you and your sex accountable for one individual’s behavior, and that was wrong. I hurt you, and for that I am truly sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I lean to the side and bump his shoulder. He bops me on the nose with the tissue box. A mangled laugh wheezes out of my chest.
“I said shush. I’m not done.” He lets go of my hair and carefully pulls me onto his lap. I snuggle into his chest, loving the way my body melds and fits into his. This kind of cuddling isn’t anything new between us, but now the comfortable familiarity is harder to maintain. He takes a breath, and I close my eyes, letting myself just be as his expanding ribcage lifts me up. “I pushed you away romantically, but I kept you in every other way. Why do you think that is?”
I shrug, letting him know I’m taking it as a rhetorical question. I don’t have a good answer. I shudder in his arms as another heaving breath leaves my body. My limbs are heavy, and my eyelids feel like weighted sandpaper, but that feeling of being eaten by my emotions from the inside out has abated. I close my eyes and pray that it was the crying and Franklin’s forgiveness that gave me the reprieve, and not me spewing hateful vitriol.
“Since we got here, I’ve experienced a couple of pretty big emotional revelations.” His arms tighten around me as he makes his announcement. My heart shrivels. This is it. He’s ready to move on. No wonder he’s so relaxed about leaving the running of Smoke and Mirrors to the staff. I don’t think the pieces I’ve been shattering into can get any smaller, but I will try to hold a few together to support Franklin. Not because I owe him, but because I love him.
“Oh,” I sniffle, trying to inject interest and curiosity into my tone and failing miserably. My voice is small and wobbly, and I hate it. Franklin suffered through my outburst and he’s still here. I can do this for him. I close my eyes and start giving myself a silent pep talk.
“I fucked up big Bennett. I assumed you capable of hurting me the way Bella did, yet I let you into my life as a friend. I let you in because you gave more than I ever offered, because you were loyal and trustworthy, because you never failed to show up when I needed you. You shared my love of cooking and taught me that it’s absolutely normal and acceptable to love people via great food. You believed in me unfailingly and loved me unconditionally. You accepted what I had to give as enough when you deserved so much more. And how did I return that gift? I put you in a box and forced you to watch me parade a carousel of men in front of you while I held you at arm’s length. And even though I stabbed you with that knife over and over and over again, you never lost faith and you never gave up on me. I have never felt your love for me waver. Not once.”
“Well, I…”
“Shh.” Franklin taps a finger against my lips. I struggle to sit up. I need to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. That he wasn’t the one who behaved badly. That…that it’s okay if he and Bal—
He holds me patiently until I settle, not at all phased by my weak protests. “I love you, Bennett. I love everything about you. I love the person you are on the inside and I’m desperate to consume the person you are on the outside. Do you hear me? I’ve always loved you.”
I’m sure my heart has seized in my chest even though my pulse is thundering through my ears. Questions and denials dancing on my tongue but never pass my lips. My lungs have frozen up worse than the motor on that new kitchen aid mixer my mother sent me for Christmas our sophomore year of college. Franklin keeps speaking as if I’m not dying a thousand mini deaths while perched on his lap. “We have some hurdles to get over, though, and I’m not going to be able to help you over all of them.” I push off his chest and sit up, needing to see his face. Moonlight slants across his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his well-groomed beard. My eyes roam over his face, inspecting for any hint of a lie. I’m in full self-preservation mode. As much as my heart longs for his declaration to be true, I’m determined to poke a hole in the case he’s presenting.
“I don’t know what to say,” I mumble thickly. I’m petrified there isn’t an option that doesn’t cause irreparable harm to our current relationship. His face shutters as he turns away from me. No! No! No! I reach up and grab his chin, pulling him back to me. “No that’s not true.” I dig deep, searching for the right thing and the courage to say it as I call myself out. “I’m scared, Franklin. Can’t you see it isn’t because I don’t want you? I wouldn’t survive losing you. I won’t risk what we have because you might be suffering a bit of misguided jealousy over my past.”
I bite my lip, waiting for explosive denial.
It doesn’t come.
He nods. “Is that all?” He brushes a lock of my hair away from the uninjured side of my face. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you want me to touch your hair.” My precious hair. The hair that took years to grow back. The hair that, like me, will forever be altered from the medications that almost destroyed it completely. He presses his lips against the smoothed side of my forehead. “I picked a hell of a time to confess, and for that, I’m sorry. That’s why we’re going to wait. You’ve got far too much on your plate. But I’m not going anywhere Bennett. I’ll be right here, when you’re ready.”
“Franklin, what about…” the words trail off as I pick through them, unable to find a string that clearly presents the mess I’m in with the rest of the men inside of this house.
“The question doesn’t need asking, Bennett. You know me. But since you obviously need to hear me say it, I’m happy to oblige. I’m not a traditionalist. I don’t adhere to any antiquated religious rules. I don’t believe in the societal boundaries we’re raised to have. You’ve loved them your whole life. It has no bearing on how much you love me. The human heart has a far greater capacity to love than it’s given credit for. It's not my place to tell you what to do. But since I’m your best friend I’m going give you my two cents anyway. You need to grieve your grandmother, Bennie, and then you need to figure out how you feel about them and what your next steps are. And regardless of what those are, you owe them the whole truth.”
“I don’t owe them anything,” I caution, stiffening.
“Okay,” he presses another kiss to my forehead. “I’m done with the advice. This isn’t a Disney movie. One heartfelt declaration isn’t going to fix everything. I’ll show I mean it.”
“What about Balthasar?” I demand. “I see the way the two of you look at each other.” Heat steals into his eyes. He doesn’t hide it.
Fuck. That’s really hot. “I won’t deny I’m extremely attracted to Balthasar. Full transparency, I met him at Plowed after our spat at the lawyers. He laid on the charm, bought my drink, and stuck his very skillful tongue down my throat.” My lips part. “Balthasar is a gorgeous man. He’s sexy and charming and I know the sex would be amazing.” Franklin’s voice thickens. His warm breath skates over my cheek. My nipples harden. I’m so torn between wanting the two of them together and wanting to screech like a harpy that they will never touch each other I can barely think. Franklin knows exactly what’s going through my head and laughs. “But the thought of railing Balthasar until he screams isn’t what got me a boner so hard I thought my dick was going to split.”
“What…what did that? To your dick?” I ask breathlessly.
“The thought of having you together. He still loves you Bennett. It’s blatantly obvious. When I think of the possibilities, of the three of us together…” Franklin trails off. My cheeks blaze as something long and thick swellss beneath me. His dick has gotten so hard so fast it’s practically pitching me off his lap.
The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You have no idea. Watching him and Whittaker fuck were some of the most erotic moments of my life.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. His chest flexes. Fingers wind through my hair until he has a handful. He tightens his fist, pulling the hair he treats so deferentially. It tugs on the swollen flesh where I hit my head, but that pain isn’t enough to take away the tight, heady sting over my scalp. His eyes glint as he lowers his mouth, stopping a hairsbreadth from mine. “That’s good to here, love, very good indeed.”
Chapter eighteen
December 1 Thursday
Smith
Franklin laid her down in Gran’s room. He ordered the rest of us around like a general, commanding Balthasar to get him juice and Whittaker to bring a pad of paper and a pen. I took myself out of the fray, going out to Balthasar’s truck to get whatever goods he went home to grab.
I snuck one of the tarts out of the container and shoved it in my mouth before hauling it, along with the case of homebrewed cider and the bottle of wine, inside. Anyone who doesn’t know my brother might think he shares the same love of cooking and creating with food that Franklin and Bennett have but I know that isn’t the case. Balthasar wants more. He wants to create a line of goods that will be in every home in America. He wants to develop a brand out of what our family has nurtured for a hundred years on that damned farm. And more power to him. It’s his family legacy, not mine.
