16. Rainbow Tennis Shoes
16
Rainbow Tennis Shoes
Thanksgiving was spent together at my Uncle Rick’s house. I wore the loosest pair of jeans I owned to guarantee I had enough room in the waistband area to expand. Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday. It was the one day no one judged me for my food babies.
My cousin Sadie and her husband Dan did most of the cooking while her younger sister Anna and I babysat Lily. I was two years older than Anna and three younger than Sadie, but they were the sisters I never had growing up. When I was a kid, Dad and Uncle Rick were nearly inseparable, but ever since my aunt passed away from a brain aneurysm when I was nine, their relationship grew strained.
Uncle Rick was a mess without his wife and jumped off the deep end for a few years, binge drinking and gambling. Dad tried to help, but then Mom left, and he was stuck raising two boys alone. Of course, Lily’s arrival changed everything.
Lily was my BFF , a new term she’d recently learned, and somehow, I found myself sitting in their living room as the four-year-old decorated my hair with clips and bows as I awaited the delicious Thanksgiving feast. Anna and Sadie never failed to encourage Lily to “do Silas’s hair” whenever we came together.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I whisper-yelled at Anna, who sat beside me laughing unabashedly as her niece added a tiny ponytail on the crest of my head.
“You have no idea.” She cackled as her short, dark hair fell into her espresso-colored eyes.
She held up her phone and snapped a few pictures, and I glared hotly as I flipped both her and the camera off. “Bite me.”
Anna bared her teeth and growled as Lily giggled, her tiny fingers tugging on my hair until I feared for my scalp. The possibility of balding notwithstanding, it was impossible to say no to Lily’s tight, dark curls and big, brown, baby eyes. She was adorable.
“No biting.” Lily smacked my head with surprising strength for a child, and Anna snorted into her hand. “Mama says that’s not nice.”
“Sorry, Lily Bug.” I poked her belly, making her giggle, as she placed a butterfly clip to the hair above my ear.
She’d grown at least an inch since Sadie’s wedding in the spring, and guilt settled in my gut at the reminder of the months passed without contact. We weren’t the kind of family to always spend time together, but going half a year without seeing each other was depressing.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I tugged it out as Lily whined at my motion, smacking my head again. Apparently, Sadie didn’t teach the ‘no hitting’ rules yet, and I winced, stilling my movements as I opened my phone.
Ben: Happy Thanksgiving. Having fun?
I grinned as my fingers flew over my screen, Ben’s text enough to distract me from the strands of hair currently being ripped from my scalp.
Silas: Well, if getting my hair pulled out by a four-year-old as my humiliation is captured on film means having fun, then yes!
Ben: Hahaha. Please tell me you have photographic evidence.
Silas: Evidence you’ll never see.
Ben: You’re no fun.
I rolled my eyes and chuckled, my laugh quickly turning to a hiss as the sensitive hairs at the back of my head twisted between tiny fingers. “Ouch! Careful, Bug.”
“Sowwy.” Lily petted my neck in apology as I returned my attention back to my phone.
Silas: Like you’d ever voluntarily embarrass yourself for me.
Ben: I’m not the one currently being humiliated. Please?
“Hey, Lily, you want to be in a picture with me?” I asked, and the child squealed in delight as she plopped her tiny body in my lap.
I put my phone in selfie mode and inwardly cringed at the array of hair accessories in my hair. But how could I complain when faced with Lily’s huge grin as she beamed at the camera? Cocking my head to the side, I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue, and Lily shrieked with laughter as I captured a few photos in quick succession.
“Oh my God, those are adorable!” Anna cooed as Sadie appeared in the doorway, her hair pulled into a messy bun at her neck.
“Anna, can you help me for a sec?” she asked, and Anna jumped to her feet to obey. “Looks cute, Silas.”
Sadie winked, and I stuck out my tongue at her as she and her sister disappeared. Choosing the best picture of Lily laughing, I sent it to Ben with a group of emojis to communicate my feigned annoyance and embarrassment.
Silas: Evidence of my abuse. Come save me!
Ben: I was drinking when I saw this and spewed apple cider all over Uncle Henry’s sister. Thanks for that! Lol but you look great.
Silas: Thanks. I’m hoping to start a new fashion trend.
Lily remained in my lap, playing with the sleeves of my sweater, and I rested my chin on her head as my eyes flitted to the family room where the men were watching football. Dad, Uncle Rick, Will, and Sadie’s twin brother Remy, clustered around the flat-screen, shouting at the referee’s poor call. Cora’s wistful tone lilted from the kitchen as she talked about the pregnancy and assisted with the food preparation. And I was on babysitting duty, cuddling Lily as she hummed tunelessly under her breath.
I sighed in contentment. Not many places felt like home anymore, but to find a piece of it, even if it was short-lived, was comforting.
The ping of my phone interrupted my reverie, and I opened Ben’s text with a giddy grin.
Ben: If anyone can pull off that hairstyle it’s you.
Silas: Fuck you.
Ben: Seriously. It’s chic.
Silas: Do you even know what chic means?
Ben: Sass. BTW who’s the little girl?
I proceeded to explain the story CliffsNotes -style about the pathetic loser who knocked Sadie up in high school and then left her to raise her kid alone. She got her GED and met Dan a few years later, and they were married this past spring. Dan worked in sales for some software company and, though I found him rather boring compared to Sadie’s spitfire attitude, he was a good, decent guy.
Ben: Her real dad isn’t in the picture?
Silas: Nope. He’s never even met her. Which is stupid because she’s the best child in the universe.
Ben: You like kids?
Silas: Not kids like the whole child population of the earth, but you can’t NOT love Lily Bug. She’s great.
An extra-long pause followed my statement, and Lily, now bored with my texting, scampered to the family room to climb into Uncle Rick’s lap instead. He absently handed her his phone, and she frowned in concentration as she played a child’s game on the device.
Ben: You never cease to surprise me.
Silas: Expected me to be a child hater?
Ben: No. Just not the type to cater to a child by allowing her to massacre your hair with girly shit.
Silas: Well it’s not like I’m gonna run out and impregnate a bunch of girls so I can have a baker’s dozen! But yeah, I guess kids are cool.
Ben sent me numerous laughing emojis.
Ben: Lunch is ready. Gotta go.
Silas: Enjoy. See you later.
We ate a late lunch, but it was delicious. I stuffed my face with turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, green-bean casserole, and candied yams. Dessert was filled with pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies, and by the time the table cleared, I was sporting the most impressive muffin top.
Rubbing my now-full belly, I drifted in a blissful food coma as I listened to Uncle Rick and Dad chat and laugh animatedly about a particularly disastrous Thanksgiving from their youth. Lily napped in Dan’s lap as Sadie drank too much wine, and Anna and I snuck sips from Will and Sadie’s glasses until a pleasant buzz took residence in my bloodstream.
Today was a good day.
Today was not a good day!
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I grumbled again as I blew into my hands to stave off the chill.
Ben chuckled beside me, and I instinctively pressed closer to him as the crowd around us tightened. I didn’t like this many bodies surrounding me, closing in and trapping me, but I forced the claustrophobia down. Having a panic attack in this moment would not be helpful.
“Oh, stop complaining, Debbie Downer.” The blond beside me knocked my elbow with his, a quirky grin on his face. “It’ll be fun.”
I sent him a withering stare as Ronnie shifted on my other side. “Yeah, it’s gonna be great. I’m restocking my closet and gonna buy a new pair of Nikes.”
Pantomiming throwing up, I sulked, and Esther chuckled from her spot wrapped in Ronnie’s arms. Her soft laughter turned into a yelp as Ronnie dipped his head into her neck and blew a raspberry against her skin.
“Ron, stop.” She smacked the arms currently caging her back to his front, but her struggles were half-hearted.
The doors to the mall opened, and the crowd surged forward, making me yelp as the people at our backs pushed and prodded. A warm hand tentatively wrapped around mine until we were palm-to-palm, and I gripped Ben’s hand like a rescue line, answering the unspoken question. There was no way I was getting lost in the madness, and if I was going to die being trampled, I would sure as hell take him with me.
“For Sparta!” Ronnie roared, and Esther shrieked as he charged forward, her hand tucked in his. I barked out a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, but it morphed into a pained cry halfway through as someone crushed my foot while simultaneously jabbing me in the gut.
Ben and I remained connected by the hands—something I tried not to dwell on—until we broke through the main mass of bodies. Ronnie’s dirty-blond hair bobbed above the crowd a few yards ahead of us, and Ben and I battled our way through the masses in his direction.
“This is idiocy!” I screeched, and Ben laughed.
Once the initial rush passed, we weaved through the sea of people easier. When Ben didn’t release my hand, I had no reason to fight him on it, and we trekked through the full corridor with palms pressed together. His skin was soft beneath mine, slight calluses hardening the spots below his fingers from the summer he spent working at Uncle Henry’s construction business. I didn’t mind the blend of rough and smooth, and my stomach fluttered and flopped like a fish out of water as I tightened my grasp.
I figured I might as well take advantage of this while I had the excuse, because all too soon I would need to let go. I didn’t want to let him go.
“In here,” Ronnie called ahead of us, pointing to the Nike store, and Ben waved to communicate that we understood the message.
“Is it time to go home yet?” I asked.
“Stop whining,” Ben scolded.
I mocked him behind his back, but it was less satisfying when he didn’t catch me doing it. Instead, he led me through the crowd until we staggered into the Nike store. It was slightly less chaotic inside, but when Ben continued to hold my hand firmly in his, I continued to allow it.
“No, size 11 ⒈／⒉,” Ronnie said to an already-harassed store clerk, and the poor kid nodded before carrying the box of tennis shoes away. “They never have any displays in my size.”
“Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet,” I drawled with a saucy wink, and Esther blushed bright red.
Ronnie laughed as Ben rolled his eyes, but the moment Esther’s eyes landed on my hand in Ben’s, her embarrassment bled into confusion. I jerked my hand out of his grasp, ignoring the startled widening of his eyes as he glanced between us, like he’d forgotten we were holding hands in the first place. I shoved my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to take his hand again.
In an attempt to banish the awkwardness, I pointed to a pair of rainbow tennis shoes. “Hey! They made some for me!”
His awkwardness melted as he chuckled. “If anyone can pull those off, it’s you.”
“Damn straight.”
Esther shook her head as Ben and I sniggered like schoolkids behind our palms. “Boys.”
Ronnie finally found the correct size, and we walked out of the Nike store to squeeze our way past the huge crowd gathered outside the Apple Store.
“Please tell me we aren’t going in there.”
“We aren’t going in there,” Ben confirmed, and I sighed in relief.
Of course, we stopped by Aéropostale, because what kind of jocks would Ronnie and Ben be if they didn’t wear Aéropostale clothing? But I refused point-blank to enter the Abercrombie store. Ronnie and Ben went in alone, leaving Esther and me to wait outside in the hall.
We leaned against the wall, making ourselves one with the drywall as people bustled past in a rush. Esther’s purple-streaked hair was held back with a flowered headband. She wore a knee-length black sweater-dress, and her black combat boots stopped shy of the material, revealing a few inches of creamy skin.
“How long have you and Ronnie been dating?” I asked as Esther watched a group of boisterous teenagers saunter by with wary eyes.
“Since the spring,” she answered, dropping her gaze the moment one of the guys glanced our way.
The predatory angle to the stranger’s eyes made my skin crawl, and I straightened my stance defensively. This guy was a dead ringer for an Eric Boyt or a Jake Thompson. He had entitled jackass written all over his smug face.
“Hey, look guys!” the guy barked above the constant hum of the crowd as the foursome paused ten feet away. “It’s Esther .”
Her knuckles whitened as her fingers gripped the material of her dress, but she didn’t respond, expression remaining blank.
“Hi, Esther,” one of the girls sneered the name like an insult.
I shifted my stance to shield her body with mine, fists clenching.“Can I help you?”
A tentative hand came to rest on my arm as Esther said, “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I studied her mortified expression. It made me want to start a fight at the mall, but her fingers dug harder into my arm. She shook her head. Just once. I huffed.
By the time I turned back around, the group had already moved on, their jeering laughter lost to the cacophony of noise.
“Come on,” I said, capturing her hand and leading her into the Abercrombie store. She followed diligently as the overwhelming cologne choked my airway, and I swore a piece of my soul shriveled and died the moment I crossed the threshold. “The cologne is killing my brain cells.”
Despite her embarrassment, Esther released a shaky laugh, and I squeezed her hand in comfort as I literally ran into Ronnie.
“Hey, I thought you’d rather stab yourself in the eyes with a hot poker than set one toe in here?” he mocked.
“Har, har,” I monotoned. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but I didn’t want to get kicked out of the mall for beating the shit out of a couple of preppy fuckboys.”
His grin dropped. “What?”
“Ronnie, it’s nothing,” Esther denied, but he pulled her out of my grasp, his pile of clothes forgotten on a nearby shelf where it was quickly pilfered through by bloodthirsty discount buyers.
Leaving Abercrombie empty-handed, we headed to Macy’s. Ronnie held Esther close with an arm around her shoulders, but no further drama unfolded.
Since Macy’s was bigger, it was easier to breathe, even with the crowds. Ronnie and Esther separated from Ben and I, gathering in the corner of the shoe section, already in tense conversation. Ben placed a hand on my back and guided me away to give them privacy.
“Ronnie is really protective,” Ben said in explanation.
“I think she’s stronger than he gives her credit for,” I countered.
While we waited for Ronnie and Esther, we hovered in the jewelry and beauty section so we stayed in their sight line. Ben uncorked a bottle of perfume and sniffed. His face spasmed, and he set it down with a grimace.
“I don’t recommend that one,” he said.
We sampled the different perfumes and colognes, and Ben offered me an open bottle of lotion to smell. I leaned over and took a whiff, and the world ground to a halt. Cucumber melon. I was surrounded by cucumber melon, and I…
The faucet was leaking.
The counter top was cold against my cheek.
Eric said, “I’ll show you respect.”
And I was drowning. No, I was choking . I was choking on cucumber melon, and I couldn’t breathe.
“Breathe, Si,” someone said in my ear, low and easy. “Feel my chest. Feel every breath. Every inhale. Every exhale. Breathe with me.”
The surface under my palm rose and fell in exaggerated intervals. Spearmint breath fanned over my cheek, and spring soap chased away the cucumber melon.
Ben coached my breathing as I fought through the panic chugging through my veins. I didn’t know how long we stood that way, my hands on his chest above his pounding heart, his fingers framing my waist. His cheek pressed to mine, his lips whispering over the shell of my ear with every word he spoke. And bit by bit, the fear melted away.
When I came back to myself fully, Ben and I were standing in the corner of the handbag section, his body shielding me from the shoppers milling about behind him. I was clinging to the front of his shirt, my face tucked into his neck as he rubbed my back. He mumbled nonsensical comfort in my ear, and I was breathing with him, my every inhale in sync with his.
“There you go,” Ben said, rubbing his cheek against the side of my head. “You’re doing so good. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I should have been embarrassed, and maybe I was, deep down. But the relief overwhelmed the other feelings of weakness and inadequacy. Relief that Ben was here, that he was holding me. Relief that he hadn’t left me alone. More than anything, relief that he wasn’t judging me, that he seemed to understand.
“I’m sorry,” I said, tightening my grip on his shirt. “I don’t… I’m sorry.”
Cupping my cheek, he guided me out of the refuge of his neck and his ocean eyes were achingly tender as he said, “You never have to be sorry, not for this.”
I shuddered and pressed into his palm. “I hate this,” I confessed, the threat of tears clogging my throat, making my voice crack. “I fucking hate this, Ben.”
“I know,” he said, and I believed him.
Our pain wasn’t the same, but it was close.
“What, uh… what triggered it?” he asked. Carefully, carefully.
“Cucumber melon,” I said without thinking, and his brow furrowed. “The lotion. It… it doesn’t matter.”
The relief was fading, and humiliation fought to take its place. I didn’t want to lose Ben’s comfort, but I was suddenly aware of the other shoppers, the curious stares. I stepped back, and Ben let me. I wished he hadn’t.
“I get them too, sometimes,” he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Ever since my mom…” He drifted off, throat clicking with effort.
Ever since his mom died, my brain supplied.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and his responding smile was small and a little lifeless.
“You can, you know, talk about it. With me. If you… if you want,” he stammered, uncharacteristically unsure. “Sometimes, it helps to talk about stuff, and if you want to, I’m—like, you could talk to me.”
I didn’t want to talk about it ever, but the offer warmed my chest, chasing away the chill of that bathroom. Instead of replying with words, I stepped forward and threw my arms around his neck. He inhaled sharply, his arms frozen at his sides like I’d caught him by surprise. Seeing as I’d never really initiated contact between us, I probably had.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his arms wrapped around my waist, and as his hands pressed into my back, we both sighed. There was a lot left unsaid between us, but sometimes, words weren’t necessary. Ben had taught me that. And as I played with the ends of the hair curling around the base of his neck, the spark I’d been trying to smother burst into full flame, setting my heart alight.
Did he feel this too? Would it even matter?
Hope was a dangerous thing, but for the first time, I didn’t fight it. And in that corner of a Macy’s handbag section, I let Ben hold me as his hesitant touch made promises I feared he wouldn’t be able to keep.