Deanna Roy - Forever Innocent

I always insisted that Finn was conceived the night in the park. When I arrived at her house around midnight, she was bouncing off the walls. She’d taken an entire practice test and only missed three questions, and this was the closest she’d gotten to perfection.

Instead of crawling into her bed, we left, running down the street in the cool autumn moonlight like two kids finally escaping their parents. The little neighborhood park was silent and mostly dark. I pushed her on the swings and chased her through the monkey bars. Everything seemed possible, our future so close we could almost reach it, and Corabelle believed she could achieve this goal of the perfect score and a scholarship that would pay her way completely.

Eventually we tumbled in the cool carpet of grass. The night had chilled down, and she snuggled into me, her black hair a curtain across my chest. We had looked at the stars, I remembered suddenly, lying like we had on the roof. I’d have to remind her of that. I didn’t know any constellations other than the Big Dipper, and we didn’t really talk about that then. I just know she turned into me and slid her hand under my shirt and across my belly, and we were lost.

Too much. I set down a barbell and wiped my face with a towel. I hadn’t known how good I had it with Corabelle then, so willing, always matching me. That night had been beyond amazing, stripping down in the grass, the moonlight on her body, highlighting the curves of her breasts and waist and hips, brightening her hair as she crawled up to sit on top of me, straddling my waist.

Her face and the stars were all one picture as I touched every part of her. My thumb went between us and found that sweet spot. Her eyes closed and she leaned back. I could see all of her skin, smooth and beautiful. She gripped my free hand, squeezing, and by paying attention to her sounds and movements, I knew when I had her close to peaking.

I slid her body down, then up, until we were almost joined. Her eyes opened wide, and she smiled, adjusting so I slipped inside. I worked her faster and now she was frantic, leaning forward, her breasts near my mouth, bracing herself on the ground as she moved in a rhythm so hard, so perfect, that I could scarcely hang on myself.

I knew when it all burst in her. She forgot where she was, crying out loud enough to set a few dogs to barking beyond the trees, grinding herself down on me with such force that I had no choice but to let go, filling her up, hanging on, breaking free of the need to hold back right as she dropped flat against me.

We shuddered against each other, the quiet settling into the low hum of crickets and a faraway highway. I held her close and this time something came over her and she started sobbing. I thought maybe I’d hurt her, but she whispered “I love you” in my ear and the emotion was so intense that it flowed into me.

I swear I felt that night as though some light began to glow, like something changed inside us both. Later, when we learned about Finn, and after the shock had worn off and we were settled into the revised version of our future, I brought that night up. Corabelle insisted it was impossible, that it happened later, but always, I felt that I knew, and for a long time I hoped it meant that I had a connection with the baby that meant I’d be a decent dad. 

I was on fire. Everything inside my chest was burning like it might ignite.

I broke the surface of the bathwater, coughing, gagging, and sucking in air. My arm and leg went over the side and I tumbled out onto the floor, shivering, naked, and in unbearable pain.

Water dribbled from my mouth and nose and I sobbed uncontrollably, tightening into a ball on the floor, head to the rug. Calm down calm down calm down. You’re okay. You’re alive. You’re fine.

The corner of a towel brushed against my hair and I yanked it down, rolling up inside it. The screaming heat was dying down, but still I hurt, my head pounding, my chest throbbing.

Is this what I wanted? To die?

Maybe.

I considered this, trying to pull away from the pain, to concentrate on my thoughts instead. Did I want to die? Was it really that bad?

Gavin. Jenny. Austin. I felt my past closing in.

A square lit up in the dark, inches from my face. My phone. Another text from Jenny.

Coffee shop boy must be a live one.

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t handle her right now. Besides, she knew. Gavin had told her.

Gavin.

The need for him began to pulse like the pressure in my head. He became my breath. Gavin, Gavin, Gavin.

I couldn’t move forward. I couldn’t go back. I wanted him here.

I wanted him now.

I reached for the phone, bypassing all of Jenny’s chipper messages and stopping on the one with his phone number.

I shouldn’t call him. It was too much. His voice. What to say. Had he wanted to die at any point?

Of course not. He wasn’t the guilty one.

But he had walked away.

So maybe he knew. Maybe he could help.

He might be the only one who could help.

I clicked on his number and then tapped out one word.

Come.

As soon as I sent it, a calmness flowed over me. I stopped shivering and lay still on the floor.

Within seconds, I had a reply.

Corabelle, is this you? Where? I’m coming.

I typed the address. Once it was sent, I realized what a mess I was, wet, naked, clothes throughout the apartment. I scrambled up and wrapped my hair, hurtling through to my bedroom.

As I yanked on a shirt and shorts, I regretted bringing him in. Nothing good could come from this. He had seen me with Austin. He couldn’t be happy about that.

I picked up the clothes and stuffed them in the hamper. My hair was a disaster and couldn’t be combed, thick and tangled and wet. I twisted it into a messy bun and shoved a half-dozen bobby pins through it.

I had a feeling I was going to spill my secrets. Maybe it was time to lay it all out. The weeks of the SAT. What happened in New Mexico. I’d already lost him once and survived. At least this time there would not be any lies or guilt.

The doorbell buzzed. Too late to back out.

I opened the door. Gavin stood on the porch, shirtless, sweaty, wearing only a pair of workout shorts and tennis shoes. My heart caught. His chest was as smooth as ever, but now he was so muscled, the hard pecs leading into his shoulders and broad sinewed arms. His lean waist disappeared into the band of his shorts, and I had to step back, blood rushing in my ears. All day long with Austin and I felt nothing. Ten seconds with Gavin and I had forgotten why I’d held myself away from boys for all these years.

He grabbed my shoulders and yanked me to him, crushing my face against his neck. I fit there as perfectly as I always had, but his bare skin was a jolt, a spark that zigzagged through my body. I wanted to lift my chin, let him search my face like he used to, and lean in with those tantalizing lips. I needed to look at him, all of him, see what had changed and what remained the same. I wanted to feel something again.

I felt a wave of emotion and held it in, but a small sound escaped, like a whimper.

“Corabelle.”

The word washed over me like a wave of cool air. No one pronounced my name quite like Gavin, who’d grown up with it, who first said it with chubby toddler cheeks, who tossed it out as we ran down pathways as kids. And who’d said it so differently that one time, that first time, when we realized we were not going to be forever friends, but expand into so much more.

Cars passed by in the broken parking lots of the complex, shining lights on us. Gavin pulled me inside and closed the door. “You asked for me.”

My throat was too tight to speak, but I nodded.

“I won’t walk out on you again. Never again.” He was lit only by the yellowish light of the entry, but still, his dark hair and strong features were visible, those same eyes I’d looked into and trusted as a girl.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled me back against him, and for the space of several heartbeats, we just stood there. I calmed down in degrees, relieved to be held after so long. I had forgotten how comforting it was to rely on another person.

“Let’s sit down,” he said and led me to my sofa, a ratty bit of salvaged furniture covered in a bright rainbow blanket.

He didn’t let go, but pulled me into his lap, cradling my knees up against him so that I sat sideways, curled against his chest. He breathed onto my hair and his heart thumped against my ear. I never ever wanted to move. 

I was so afraid of scaring Corabelle away, I didn’t even want to talk.

Her hair was chilly against my chest, like she’d just gotten out of the shower. She wore very little, just a tiny white tank top and silky shorts that showed so much leg, I had to clamp down every raging thought.

Everything competed for dominance. Relief that she asked for me. Worry about why. And the need to touch her, to connect with someone who hadn’t been paid to be there.

I just knew it was that guy. He’d tried something on her. My heart started pounding. I pictured him on her, pinning her down, and her screaming and beating on his back.

I’d kill him. I’d break his scrawny neck.

“Did he hurt you?” I finally asked, already imagining my fist connecting with his pathetic little face.