21. Ed
21
ED
A very spins around slowly in the empty living room. A couple of holes in the wall, where the flatscreen was mounted, are the only evidence that Jake’s furniture was ever there.
I dusted the entire house and ran the vacuum around today, and now there is no trace of her brother in what was his house.
I watch Avery carefully, wondering how she’s going to take it.
She turns to face me, and there’s sadness in her expression but no tears. “It really feels like he’s gone.”
I nod once, because I know what she means. Everything Jake once owned is boxed up at his parents’ house, gone to Goodwill, or in the backroom of The Landing ready for the auction.
“Are you going to decorate?” Her hand runs over the empty wall where the TV unit once stood. “I still think a forest green feature wall would be good here.”
I shake my head. There’s no need to paint over the white walls.
“What are you going to fill it with?”
Her brow knits into a frown, and I look away. I haven’t told Avery I’m leaving yet, and this is the time to do it. But I can’t bring myself to write the words.
I don’t need much, is what I scribble on my notepad.
What I need is her, but I can’t tell her that. Because she sure as hell she doesn’t need me. If I stay with Avery, all I’ll ever think about is how if it wasn’t for my actions, Jake would still be alive.
One day, the truth will come out. One day I’ll tell her, and then she’ll see me for what I really am. The man who got her brother killed.
It’s best I break things off now.
“It’s blooming.” She walks over to the peace lily and runs her hands over the vibrant green leaves. I brought it downstairs to add color to the empty house.
She leans forward and breathes in the flower's scent. The movement elongates her neck, and her exposed throat makes her seem vulnerable.
I can’t do this to her now. Not in Jake’s empty house. And I’m a selfish bastard; I want one more night with Avery.
I take her hand and lead her upstairs, but when we get to the top, she doesn’t drop my hand. Her other hand caresses my cheek. Her fingertips run over my jagged scar, and I shiver at her tender touch.
“Are you okay, Ed? You seem off tonight.”
Her gaze is full of concern, and I can’t hold it. I try to speak, and my tongue forms into a half grunt. “Argh.”
Instead, I nod once and pull her onto the bed.
She sits up next to me. Her gaze goes to the box of VHS tapes and the small black TV and VHS player on the desk.
Her eyes light up. “You want to watch a movie?”
I shrug. If it buys me more time with Avery, I’ll watch anything.
She opens the box and looks through the tapes. “I’ve never seen Pretty Woman .” She holds up the worn cassette with the cover furling at the edges.
I nod, and she inserts it into the cassette. The VHS whirls to life and the picture crackles onto the screen. I’m used to the poor quality, but Avery frowns at the screen.
“Why do you have all these VHS tapes? Why not download the movies?”
I reach for my notepad.
They were my mother’s.
“Oh.” Avery’s frown turns deeper. I’ve never told her about my upbringing. She’s got the perfect family life. Why would she want to hear about mine?
“Do you remember her?” she asks.
A vague memory comes to mind of the scent of cigarettes and lavender. Of a woman with long dark hair lying on the couch, always out of reach.
I grab my notebook and write.
Not really. But I remember Pretty Woman.
It was always playing in the background. That’s all I remember, fragmented memories of sitting on a worn carpet while Mom lay on the couch with a cigarette in her hand watching Pretty Woman . On her good days, she’d sit up and put her hair up like Julia Roberts and mouth the words.
I guess she was waiting for her Richard Gere. But real life isn’t a movie. White knights don’t rescue prostitutes, and mothers don’t always stick around.
When they took me into care, she handed over the box of tapes. My legacy: rom-coms from the eighties showing a fantasy life my mother never came close to.
I prop my pillow up against the wall and pull Avery to me. She snuggles into me as the movie gets going.
“Is his name Edward?” She spins around and light dawns in her eyes. “Are you named after the hero in Pretty Woman?”
I shrug. It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. But the only person who knows the answer to that abandoned me a long time ago.
“Oh,” Avery says again.
She reaches for the remote and hits pause. “I don’t think I want to watch this now.”
She turns back to me, and there’s compassion in her eyes. But I don’t want her pity.
Whatever happened to me as a kid made me the man I am. It made me resilient enough to become a Navy SEAL. It made me tough enough to know life doesn’t work out how you want it to. I learned early that life isn’t fair, and you don’t always get what you want.
But there’s only one thing I want now: to make love to Avery one last time.
My hand reaches for her cheek, and I cup her face in my hands. I’ll miss her smooth skin and gentle lips. I’ll miss her sweet scent of citrus and her silky hair.
I’ll miss all of her. But it’s the right thing to do, to let her go.
Avery deserves someone who fits into her life, someone who can joke with her family and look good in the family photos on the wall. I’ll always be disfigured and brooding, and she deserves sunlight and laughter. I’ll always remind her of her brother, and when the truth comes out, she’ll hate me.
I run my hand through her soft hair, committing the feel to memory.
All I need is just one more time. One more time with Avery, then I’ll tell her I’m leaving.
I pull her on top of me and kiss her hard. My hands tangle in her hair as I draw her to me.
I undress her slowly, kissing every part of her body. She arches her back under my touch, and her whimpering noises lodge in my brain.
Knowing it will be the last time, I take my time, caressing every part of her perfect curvy body. Imprinting every fold, every crevice, every inch of her to memory. I close my eyes, savoring her taste, her scent, and the way she moans when I suck her nipples.
Her hands slide my t-shirt off, and then we’re naked together on the bed. Our bodies come together, and her legs wrap around my back.
When I slide into Avery for the last time, I keep our eyes locked. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life: the closest I’ll ever get to loving a woman I don’t deserve.