All In: Iggy's Story, page 3
I don’t want to wake her up because if I do, I’ll never leave. And I have to leave. It’s for the best. It’s for her own good. She’ll be pissed. She’ll be devastated. She’ll hate me. But she’ll eventually move on and live the life she dreamed of. One with lots of kids and a family who’ll know how to love her the way she deserves to be loved.
I kiss her forehead gently and inhale her warm scent.
She makes a little noise, something she does when she sleeps, and turns away from me.
It’s time.
I reach into my pocket and take out the note I wrote earlier. I gently set it against her lamp on the bedside table. Then I climb out of her window, without a second look back.
* * *
ABBY
“Lily, please put your shoes on. Oscar, grab your lunch. We’re going to be late!” I’m waiting by the open front door with my keys in my hand and my patience running thin. But I’m momentarily distracted by the sound of a car close by, and when I turn to look at the street, there’s a big, blue Jeep pulling up next to my small Honda Accord. I’m immediately alarmed, especially after Tim’s warning. He told me that his security guy would come last night, but he never did. Not a great sign for a security guy. With that thought, I hastily bolt back into my house and lock all the doors.
I need to call 911. As I dig through my purse, there is a knock on my door, which I ignore. I’m still frantically searching for my phone when it suddenly rings.
“Oh God, Tim. Call the police, there’s a stranger parked in my driveway!” I’m not a hysterical person, but the conversation with Tim yesterday and a visitor this early in the morning has me on edge.
“It’s okay. Open the door. It’s your new security detail. The one we spoke about. He just sent me a text that he’s outside your house.”
“Now? Jesus. I almost had a heart attack. He was supposed to start last night. He’s very late. Maybe he’s not really the best, Tim.” I know I’m being snarky, but I’m annoyed that this guy is here now, at this time, when I’m rushing to get my kids to school and myself to work.
“He did start last night,” Tim says. “I’m walking into court, gotta go. Let him in. He’s waiting.”
He did? No, he didn’t. No one came over last night.
I’m already going to be late dropping off the kids at school, and this is just stressing me out more. “Lily and Oscar, let’s hurry it up!” I yell, as I unlock the deadbolt.
As soon as the door swings open, my kids run out, almost knocking me down in the process. Luckily, strong arms reach out and straighten me before I tumble forward. “Damn it, Lily would you be care—” The words catch in my throat when I look up at the person standing in front of me, holding me upright.
“Hey,” he says, in a thick and throaty way that sounds more like an exhale. My eyes are wide and my mouth is hanging open. Hey?
“Mom!” Lily yells from the car. “We’re going to be late.”
“I—uh…” Our eyes are still locked. “Iggy?”
He smiles. I remember that smile. That smile lit up my world at one point in time. “It’s me.”
“Mom!” This time both Oscar and Lily are yelling, and I’m pulled out of the trance.
“Shoot. I have to…to—” I point toward the car. Words are not forming. I’m a jumbled mess.
“Take ’em to school?” he finishes my sentence.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “School. Take them.”
He chuckles at my idiotic words. I sound like Yoda, Jesus Christ. “Keys.” He holds up his palm. I look at his hands, then back up at him in confusion. “Abby, keys. I’m driving.”
“Where?”
“Abby, snap out of it. Let’s go drop off your kids and then we’ll talk. But I need the keys to do that.”
I shake my head, trying to get the cobwebs out. “No.” I look at my watch. “Shit. We’re late.” I jog down the steps to the car. “Are you the guy Tim hired?” I say over my shoulder.
“Sure am,” he replies, as I get in my car.
“Who’s that, Mom?” Oscar asks while I put on my seatbelt.
“An old friend. His name is Iggy—Charlie…” Just as I say that, he’s sliding into the passenger seat. Does he still go by Iggy?
I’m immediately transported to the day I met him when I couldn’t say his name and all that I could spit out was Iggy. I was mortified, yet he accepted it, and, from that day forth, everyone came to know him as Iggy.
“Iggy,” he corrects me, his body turned toward the backseat where the kids are sitting. “My name’s Iggy. That’s what all my friends call me. You must be Liliana and you must be Oscar.”
“Lily,” my daughter says.
“Lily, right.” He grins at her, then turns back to the front and buckles up. We sit in my driveway for a few long moments. “Abby, we gotta move.”
Again, I’m jolted to reality and start to drive.
You know how when you’re underwater you can hear voices talking but you can’t make out what is being said? Well, that’s how I feel right now.
“How do you know my mom?” Oscar asks.
“We went to school together,” Iggy responds.
“How come I’ve never seen you before?” This time it’s Lily.
“I’ve been out of town.”
“In Ohio?” Lily asks. “I used to live in Ohio.”
“You lived there for six months when you were born. It’s not like you remember anything,” Oscar says, snarkily.
“Whatever!” Lily snaps with major attitude, and the two bicker about what Lily could possibly remember at six-months-old. Iggy chuckles and turns to me. “They’re great, Abby.” He turns back to the kids. "No. Not in Ohio. I've been in the Army."
"So cool!" Oscar says, excitedly, and Iggy smiles.
It is such a sincere smile, something I remember him always having. From the first moment he spoke to me up until now, twenty years later, those dimples, that smile… They’re exactly the same. My world completely turns on its axis.
Shit. Iggy’s back.
NINETEEN YEARS AGO
ABBY
“…P-P-Poe. Argh! Stupid name.” Iggy chuckles at my frustration. We’re sitting in the back of the library, and he’s trying to help me with my upcoming presentation for English lit. Just the thought of reading in front of the class has me sweating. “Why did I pick this dumb poem?”
He’s patient and never interrupts me. And unlike everyone else, he talks to me openly about my speech problem. “You picked it because it’s your favorite and I’ve heard you say it a dozen times without any trouble.”
“Because it’s you, Iggy.” I roll my eyes. Sometimes I still get a little stuck with my words, but for the most part, I can have an entire conversation with Iggy without much trouble. He’s my best friend. For the last year, we’ve been inseparable.
He takes my hands in his. My heart speeds up. Even though we’re friends, we don’t really touch like this. I know he’s just trying to comfort me, but his touch makes my pulse race. I don’t want to ruin our friendship by getting all girly-with-a-crush, so I pretend that his touch isn’t doing all sorts of weird things to my body. “I think you need to relax. Take a deep breath,” he says, giving my hands a quick squeeze and breathing deep, coaching me through this. “Really think about what you want to say before you actually say it.”
I pull my hands away and look down at the text book. “It’ll take too long.”
“Who gives a fuck?” he says, his voice a little higher, as if he’s actually mad on my behalf. He pinches my chin gently and forces me to look at him. This last year, he’s gotten even taller. His dark brown hair is a little too long, which I love, and he’s starting to work out, so he’s not as skinny as he used to be. His arms are thicker, and the other day, when we were swimming, I saw he had a six-pack. I, on the other hand, am still flat as a board unlike my friends who have all filled into their bras, and I have more freckles on my face than I did last year. But still, sometimes I get the feeling that he likes the way I look. In fact, while I was floating around the pool last weekend, I felt his eyes on me. He looked away when I turned my head, but I could have sworn he was staring at me. God, if that were true…
“People can wait for you to gather your thoughts. If they can’t then fuck them.” He doesn’t let go of my chin. Instead, he rubs my jaw softly with his thumb. He’s been extra touchy lately. A few weeks ago, his hands wandered into my lap at the movies “accidentally”. He was reaching for the popcorn, he said. And he helped me do a double knot on my halter top the other day when it was coming loose. I’m not brave like that. I avoid getting too close to him at all costs.
I’m a dork. There’s no other reason. I’m a cowardly dork. The times he’s caught me staring at him, I’ve turned beet-red and practically run out of the room in embarrassment.
I’m going to die if he keeps touching me. I feel hot all over and I want to throw myself on him and kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad it takes everything I have to stay seated right where I am.
His throat bobs; his eyes are not on mine, they’re lower…on my mouth. My belly is full of butterflies. I wish I could make the first move.
“I like when you talk. I wish everyone could hear you talk.” He lets go of me, then looks down at my book and points to the poem. “You got this, Abby.” His voice is a little hoarse.
I don’t need the book. I know it by memory. I begin reciting “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe, without looking down, without stammering, because it’s just Iggy and I feel brave and in control when I’m around Iggy.
When I finish, he has a big smile on his face. “You’re so smart, babe. That was perfect.” He reaches for me and brings me to his chest for a hug.
He smells so good, and I feel so small and protected with his long arms wrapped around me this way. And I love it when he calls me babe, which he does all the time. Then again, he calls a lot of girls babe.
I need to get over this stupid crush before I make a fool of myself.
* * *
IGGY
I almost kissed her.
I don’t know how long I can go on pretending I don’t want to kiss her every waking moment of my life. I’ve been on my best behavior with my foster mother and at school because I don’t know what I’d do if they ripped me away from Abby. She’s not only my best friend, but also my favorite person on earth. I’ve never met anyone like her.
I still don’t have many friends in town, mostly because I spend all my time at school, or at my part-time job at the drug store, or hanging out with Abby. I haven’t exactly tried making any other friends. I just enjoy being around her so much that I don’t need anyone else. She’s enough.
She’s everything.
I skip out of algebra early to check in on Abby. I know how nervous she is about having to recite the poem in front of her entire class. I didn’t say anything, but I’m nervous for her. So much so that I’m standing outside her class risking a detention. I look through the glass window on the door just as they call her name. I see her shyly stand and walk to the front of the class.
I swear to Christ, if one person laughs at her, I’ll kill ’em.
As she turns to face the class, she catches a glimpse of me at the door.
Fuck. I don’t know if that’ll help her or hurt her. Well, it’s too late now; She’s seen me, and it’s time for her to do her thing. I can’t hear what is happening, but by her facial expression, it seems like she’s doing fine. Her lips stop moving for a moment, and she closes her eyes for a second. Good girl, I think. She turns her face toward the door and looks at me. I give her a slight nod. Come on, baby, you can do this. She turns back to the class and continues.
Finally, she walks back to her seat.
I guess she’s done.
I exhale and start walking away when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see Abby hauling ass toward me. I have no choice but to open my arms and brace for impact.
“I did it, Iggy! I did it.” Her entire body wraps around mine, her face buried in my neck. This is a first, but hopefully it’s not the last time we touch this way.
She lifts her head, her smile as wide as those green eyes. “I did it. No one laughed and I recited the entire thing without getting flustered.”
Then, she kisses me.
It’s a quick peck on the lips, gone as fast as it began. Clearly, she did it because she got carried away. I know this for a fact because as soon as her lips touch mine, her entire face morphs from happiness to shock. She starts to unravel her legs from around me, but I don’t let her. I turn us around and press her back into the lockers. Thank God the hallway’s empty because I’m going to kiss her. Fuck these games and these feelings that I can’t control any longer.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” she begins but I silence her by pressing my lips against hers. It’s not a little peck. I can’t hold anything back; there’s tongue, there’s need, there’s everything I’ve felt since I first saw her. She doesn’t hold back, either. Her hands are in my hair and her legs are tightening around my body. Fuck, I’m hard. I’m in school, in the middle of the day, hard as a fucking rock, and I know she can feel it. And I don’t give a shit, because I love this girl. I need this girl. And I don’t care about anything anymore, other than having her.
My greatest fear is losing our friendship, but I know in that moment, that it won’t happen. Our connection’s too strong. This won’t break us.
A cough disrupts us. “Mr. Iglesias, Ms. Jones…to my office, now!”
She slides down my body, her face red, her hair disheveled. She looks gorgeous. And embarrassed. Not about kissing me, but getting caught. I take her hand in mine, and proudly march us into the vice principal’s office where we’re given two weeks of detention.
Two weeks where we get to spend an extra hour together every afternoon.
It’s the best two weeks of my life.
4
Present-Day
IGGY
I probably should’ve called her before showing up. Or I could have tailed her without her ever having known. There’s a lot of things I could’ve done. Saying “hey” as if I’d been around for years, as if we were still the best of friends, as if I wasn’t still in love with her, wasn’t the best decision I made.
So here I am. Fucking it up. Again.
I’ve thought about Abby every day since I left her. I imagined her happily married with children living somewhere up north. She’d always dreamt of snow and mountains and a picture-perfect life, one I could never give her.
I was young and stupid, and when I was finally old enough to know that I had been young and stupid, too many years had gone by, and it seemed as if contacting her in any way would just cause more pain.
Now I wonder if I was worried about the pain it would have caused her or the pain it would have caused me.
I always thought I was protecting her, but now that all the memories of us are coming back and knowing all that she’s been through since her husband passed away, I’m not so sure.
The expression on her face when she opened the door was one I couldn’t read. And if there is one thing I’m good at it is reading people. Back then, reading Abby was simple. She was an open book, her emotions on her sleeve. Or rather, on her face. But right now—I can’t read a goddamn thing. I’m thinking she either hates me and is waiting for her kids to get out of the car to punch me square in the nose, or she remembers how we were once best friends and is waiting for her kids to get out of the car to throw her arms around me and tell me how much she’s missed me.
So yeah—punch in the face or a hug.
That’s where I’m at when the kids say their goodbyes. “See you later, Iggy,” Lily says.
“Later, Lily,” I reply, as Oscar bumps my fist and closes the door.
Now we’re alone. And I’m fucking terrified.
“So, you’re the guy Tim hired?” she asks again as she shifts to reverse out of the parking space. Her hair is still red but not the same shade it was back then. It’s more cherry red now, whereas it had once been more on the copper side of red. She doesn’t have any makeup on, yet her cheeks match the color of her hair and her green eyes are exactly as they were—emerald and vibrant. Her full lips, which didn’t look quite right on her teenage face, look sexy as hell on her more defined adult face. She is absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that takes my breath away and makes me forget that she probably hates me and that I should find someone else to help her.
“Are you listening to me?” she snaps, her eyes glaring. No, I wasn’t. I was staring at her.
I clear my throat. “Yes, he hired me. I looked into Rogers and now I know more about the scumbag than I care to know and I definitely don’t like you or your kids being in the same conversation as Rogers or any of his clients.”
“Tim should’ve told me it was you.” She side-eyes me. “Also, you don’t have the right to like or dislike anything to do with me or my kids.”
So, punch in the face it is.
“Yeah, he probably should have said something to you.”
“I wouldn’t have been okay with this,” she quickly adds.
“Well, it’s probably best he didn’t tell you then.”
“Again, you don’t get to have a say in any of this. You’re a stranger.”
Fuck. Me.
A physical blow would have hurt me less. We are not strangers. Those green eyes are more familiar to me than anything else in my life.
“Abby,” I begin, proceeding with caution. I turn my body toward her, as much as I can in this small car. “I know you. You know I do.”
