Seven
Sadie
My parents left town to visit my grandparents early this morning. I wanted to go with them to South Carolina, but they’re staying for a week, and I have clinicals, plus I still need to study. There are only a few weeks of school left. I’m feeling a little less light-headed and irritable after much-needed sleep, but I still can’t stop thinking about Ben. Is he thinking of me? Why do I care? I wanted to crawl out of my skin last night, but at the same time I was drawn to him. The invisible pull is hard to forget.
Truthfully, I can’t tell if I’m mad or if I want to see him again. It’s all very confusing. When I talked to Kate earlier, she said she’s seeing Eric tomorrow to go boating on the lake. She asked me to come along, but I shot her down. This time, she didn’t beg. It’s safe to say after she saw how upset I was at the predicament I was put in last night, she won’t be pushing me to go. I’m staying home to study, then I will attempt a night of self-care before a long rest ahead of medical madness.
The doorbell rings, letting me know Mike is here. Moving quickly, I throw on my zip-up hoodie and rush to meet him at the door. I’m wearing jeans, some knee-high boots, and a black basic tee. It’s raining like crazy today, so I opted for comfy, warm, but still a little more stylish than what I usually wear.
“Mike, hey,” I greet him. Leaning in, he gives me a brisk kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, Sadie.”
His greeting is warm, but I’m comparing the feelings in my stomach and the thoughts in my head to how Ben made me feel last night. The way Mike makes me feel is so lackluster. Ben enraged me, but he poked and prodded at the emotions inside me that I have always been curious about but pushed deep, deep down.
“You look comfy. Ready to go?”
I did my makeup a little heavier than usual, and I curled my hair, hoping Mike would notice. Truly, what did I expect? For him to drool at the sight of me? Mike didn’t even notice; it’s as if he is looking right through me.
“Yes, let me grab my bag.”
My stomach drops when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in our entryway. I feel foolish for trying to get him to see something else in me. I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling inadequate. Am I desperate? Is that what is happening? This is new to me, and everything I’m feeling is a shock to my psyche.
Picking up my bag, I fake a smile, and we make our way toward our usual hangout at the downtown café.
* * *
“You want some coffee?” Mike offers as he stands up from the table. We finished our chocolate chip pancakes with orange juice—we order them every Saturday morning, and each time we split them. I like food, but Mike likes fitness, so I’ve given in, and we share so he doesn’t go overboard. I’ll sneak snacks when I get home.
“Sure, thanks.”
As he leaves, I release a breath I’ve been holding for what seems like forever.
Ben. That’s the first thought that comes to mind. I’m uneasy about the way I’m obsessing over him, the way he makes me think tirelessly about him, dream about him, and desperately try to find attention from someone else so I can forget about him.
Being strong and courageous where Ben is concerned seems unachievable. The point may be moot, though, since I may never see him again. If I’m wise, I will forget he even exists.
“Here’s my thesis for my literature class. Read it, make some notes,” Mike says as he comes back, sets down the coffee, then takes the papers out from his textbook and slides them over to me.
I read it over, but, to be honest, I retain almost nothing. Mike is going to school for business. His literature class is required, and the contents of this paper show that. He hates reading, hates the idea of anything to do with classic novels.
“What do you think?” Mike asks as I slide the papers back to him.
“It’s perfect, I love it. You’ve made some great points about the book.” That’s a lie. I look at him briefly over the rim of my coffee before pulling my eyes away. Usually, we can fill breakfast with conversation, but today there is an awkward, prolonged pause.
“You doing all right? You seem a bit off today.” He breaks the silence, and I swallow my coffee so fast that it burns going down.
“Oh, I’m good. Nervous about finals, and it’s been busy at the hospital. I’m tired.”
My conscience screams that I should tell him about last night, but Mike knows that concerts aren’t my typical fare, and I don’t want to explain that a rock star wanted to sleep with me. That story I will save for a different day.
“Maybe you should get some rest. You look different today.” He gestures to my appearance, and I hate to admit my stomach does a slight flip. Is he going to compliment me?
“You like it? I usually don’t wear this much makeup, but I wanted to try something different.”
He laughs in an incredulous way. My brow furrows.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. You should stick to no makeup. You look better without it. You almost look like you’re trying too hard.”
Wow, a slap to the face would have been less painful. I open my mouth to fire back, then snap it shut, biting my tongue. I don’t want to fight with him. Actually, I would like to get as far away from him as possible. What kind of man says that to his girlfriend? Even if he thought it, he could have kept it to himself.
Moments like this are why I never step out of the safety of the cocoon I’ve built around myself. I hate it, but sometimes I’m too soft for all of this. Being the good girl is like being the world’s punching bag. Good girls don’t say anything wrong. Good girls don’t get too loud. Good girls don’t push back. That’s me. The only time I did push back was last night with Ben. A stranger. A beautiful stranger. I wish I could have found my voice today with Mike like I did last night in that smoky backstage room.
“Anyway, I need to get home to study,” I state. Right now, the room seems to be getting smaller, and the boiling anger in my stomach is climbing up my throat. I not only feel like a joke, I feel hurt that Mike dismissed me. The way that entire interaction went down has me feeling immature, but then again I am only nineteen. I’ve spent my entire life living to please everyone and make everyone proud of me. It’s all I know.
“Agreed, you need rest and a shower.” He digs that knife deeper, and I bleed a little more.
* * *
I have stared at the same textbook for the past six hours, only taking breaks to eat and watch the Health Channel. It’s nearing 7:00 p.m., and it’s dark outside. The day got away from me, but studying kept me distracted enough to not think about Ben or the hurtful comments that Mike made.
I pick through the fridge, pushing past all the condiments and random things but not finding anything appetizing. The thought of pizza has my stomach singing, and even though I could probably choose something better suited to fueling my brain for a long night of studying, I order anyway.
I’m not a small girl; I would classify my body as midsize. I have thin legs and a soft stomach, but my thighs, butt, and breasts are thick. I have an hourglass shape with a little extra weight to it. I work out a couple times a week when I find the time, usually before or after work at the facility provided by the hospital. I’m happy with my body, and being happy with my body is all that matters.
Once I finish ordering dinner, I FaceTime my parents to help fill the time until my food arrives. I haven’t spoken to my grandma in a couple of weeks. My eighty-year-old grandmother Maureen, Mo for short, may be the sweetest old lady there ever was in our small town of Chesnee, South Carolina. She leaves her door unlocked, and often the neighbors drop in for a piece of pie or some cookies or whatever roast she’s cooking. And, of course, for the best conversation with the kindest woman.
I miss our small town, the way everyone knows everyone, but most of all I miss my eccentric Grandma Mo.
“Sadie Jay, how are you, baby?” Mama answers, struggling to get her glasses on. I see my face in the little box, and I look more than exhausted—like the living dead. Frustrated by Mike’s comments, I wiped all the makeup off my face, and now my lips are swollen and covered in lip balm from biting them tirelessly while studying. My hair is in a topknot, and I’m wearing my daddy’s old University of South Carolina hoodie and leggings.
“I’m good, just studying. Where’s Grandma?”
“She’s right here, hold on. Do you think you’ll be ready for finals?” Mama asks as she walks through the house.
“Maybe? I don’t know, Mama, I’m all over the place today,” I admit defeatedly. I wish she was here so I could unload on her and my father. The bond between us isn’t typical. They have always been open and honest with me, as I have been with them, and when they’re back, I plan to tell Mama about Ben. Maybe she can help me make sense of all this.
“You’re smart, Sadie. You’ve got this.”
“Yes, you do, baby girl.” My father’s voice comes through the phone. My parents never put pressure on me to be this person. But they are those people, and I admire them so much that I strive to be exactly like them.
“Thank you, guys. Now where is Grandma? I want to see her!”
“I’m here, angel baby. Oh my—look at you, Sadie Jay, you’ve grown up so much!”
Her wrinkled yet youthful face comes into focus. I swear her joyful outlook on life has kept her young.
“It’s only been six months since I visited last, Mo-Mo.”
“But you young kids change so fast. You look like a young woman, like your mama did when she was a young lady.”
The twinkle in her eyes warms my heart. Her health hasn’t been the best lately, but she never lets that dull her charisma. She’s suffered three strokes in the past three years, and it’s been extremely hard on us all to be so far away from her. Good thing Mama and Papa go back frequently to visit.
“Thanks, Mo-Mo.” The doorbell rings, and I check the time. There’s no way that’s the pizza already.
“Hey, guys, I have to go. I think my pizza’s here? I’ll FaceTime you later this week.”
“Love you. Be safe and lock up the house, baby girl,” Dad reminds me.
“I always do. Love you!” They say goodbye, and I open the door right as the call ends.
“That was fast . . . Ben?” Nearly stumbling as I back up, I’m sure I must be seeing a mirage. Ben Cooper stands on my doorstep all handsome in his skinny ripped jeans that only a rocker could pull off with his leather jacket and wild hair.
“Expecting someone else?”
“I am. I have a hot date with the pizza guy. What are you doing here? How did you get my address?”
“Kate told me. I love pizza, sounds good to me. You going to invite me in?”
“No,” I sass.
He’s incorrigible. I make a mental note to wring Kate’s neck.
“That’s not nice. Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Aren’t people from the South supposed to be more welcoming?”
“To people who deserve it.”
“Ouch. I thought you would invite me in and give me sweet tea and cookies. I was wrong about you, Sadie from South Carolina.” He winks, his humor both annoying and funny. I keep my face as straight as possible but crack when he stares at me while his smile beams.
“You’re insane. What do you want, Ben?” I laugh.
“Invite me in and I’ll tell you. Please?”
Pursing my lips, I release a breath and debate the idea for a few seconds. I should slam the door in his face. I almost lost my marbles from our short interaction yesterday. Now I’m debating letting him into my house—inviting the enemy in?
“Fine, but if you hit on me or anything of that sort, you’re out.”
“Score! Thanks, beautiful.” He walks around me, and my stomach flips, filling with flying butterflies. Did he call me beautiful?
I watch, fascinated, as he waltzes into the living room and makes himself right at home. He plops down and stacks his feet on top of one another, using my coffee table as a footstool. Reluctantly, I follow him.
“Health Channel, health books. You into some kinky shit?”
“I said no weird comments!” Grabbing the pillow beside me, I chuck it at him.
“All right!” He laughs, and the throaty sound and his charming smile have my stomach dancing again. “I was teasing, but really, what’s with all this?”
“I’m about to graduate with my LPN.”
“Wow. Smart, sassy, and beautiful. What else do I not know about you?”
Beautiful . There it is again, that unfamiliar word. No man has called me that. Well, my father has, but that is what dads do.
“None of those, really. I like helping people,” I tell him truthfully, sitting crossed-legged alongside him. I can’t believe I have a rock star in my living room sitting next to me, less than twenty-four hours after he crudely propositioned me for sex. This new Sadie doesn’t even know if she approves of herself.
“There’s that Southern charm.”
He squeezes my knee, and something happens. The spot between my thighs softly pulses. That turned me on—his touch made my body go all gooey inside. But I ignore it, pushing it down deep, and thank my stars he doesn’t notice. I can only imagine what he would say and how much having that knowledge would stroke his already too big ego.
“No, that’s God’s work. He put us here to help people, and that’s my life mission.”
“Oh God, that’s right. God.” He says God with such disdain, it throws me off.
“You’re not the religious type?”
“No. I don’t believe in it,” Ben states bluntly.
“If you aren’t religious, then who do you thank for your success?”
Somehow, sitting here with Ben feels natural, like it’s a regular night between two good friends. It’s different, and what’s more odd is I feel completely comfortable. Every moment spent with Ben is a new experience I’ve never felt with Mike.
“My hard work. My dedication. My good looks.” He falls back on humor. I see the shield he puts up, and I don’t push further. There is something darker there, something he wants hidden. But like I have my secrets, I respect his boundaries.
“You’re very full of yourself. I can’t believe women fall for that,” I say, standing and moving to the kitchen. “Would you like a water or anything, Ben?” I say over my shoulder.
“Beer.”
“We don’t drink in this house, I’m sorry. I have soda.” I peer back at him, and he nods with a sly sideways grin.
“That’ll do. Your whole family super religious then?” I fill a glass with some ice and pour the soda into it.
“My parents are, and I try to be as active as possible.” I shrug.
Does he think that religion is what drives me to be reserved? To be more guarded? It’s not. It helps, but it’s not why I am the way I am.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm what?” I hand him his drink as we resume our spots on the couch.
“Nothing, just curious. It never made sense to me.”
“What? Religion?”
“Yeah, religion. It seems fake—unnecessary.”
“I believe in God. I believe in his miracles,” I say. Ben grunts, taking a sip of his drink.
“What miracles?” he inquires as I drop my head and start rubbing my neck. It’s filled with a thousand kinks from studying all day. “Your neck hurt?”
I nod, ready to answer his question when he grabs me by the elbow and yanks me into his arms, cradling me in his lap. I yelp.
“Ben!” Immediately, his hand goes to my neck, and he begins to knead the knots. Suddenly, I don’t know what words are. It feels so good.
“I’ll rub it out. Keep talking. Tell me about these miracles.” My natural reaction is to run the other way, but the urge to stay is much stronger.
“I—I . . .” Looking into his eyes, I get lost seeing all the emotions gathering in his stormy brown irises.
“Miracles, baby. Tell me about them.”
Baby? Am I here in my house, sitting in his lap, inches from his handsome face? This is all overwhelming, but the words come naturally, nearly unstoppable.
“Love. I have seen the power of love in my parents. Or when a new baby is born. When a gunshot victim wakes up from their coma . . . when Mama went into remission.” I whisper the last words, searching his eyes as well as every detail of his face.
“Your mother had cancer?” he questions, and I see a new look that has yet to grace Ben’s face, a look of sadness, empathy, and pain.
I look down, and he drops his forehead to mine. “Hey, look at me.”
Giving him my eyes, I wait for his words, clinging to the silent air around us, waiting for something else to latch onto. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m glad your mother is in remission.”
His words feel more genuine than any I heard while Mama was going through cancer. The same words came from a hundred different people, but the way Ben says them reaches something in me. How is this stranger so deep in my psyche that I am sharing the stories of wounds that I am still trying to heal?
“Thank you.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
When he changes the subject, I snap back to reality. I go to climb out of his lap, thanking him for the massage, but he stops me.
“Stay in my lap. I like you here.” I take a deep breath and smell his cologne and the faint smell of smoke. Surprisingly, it’s not repulsive, more unique. I bite my lip and shake my head.
“Really, it’s okay. I don’t want to crush you with my big butt,” I tease, hoping this will set me free. I feel myself growing hot, and my core tightens again.
“You have a beautiful body, Sadie, not an ounce of complaint on my end. Stay here, talk to me. Besides, you have me feeling something . . .” I wiggle a bit, staying in place when I realize he isn’t going to let me go.
“What do I make you feel, Ben? I barely know you.”
“That’s the weird thing. I feel safe with you, like I don’t need anything else but your presence. It’s like we’re old friends catching up on lost time. This is a new feeling for me.”
I’m stunned. I thought I was crazy, that I was reading this all wrong. Clearly I’m not because he feels the same way.
“You can get all that from what little time we’ve spent together?”
“I can. You believe in miracles. Maybe this is something like that,” he tells me. I shake my head in response.
“You aren’t just trying to get me naked, are you?” I cover my mouth, unable to stop the words once they’ve come out. Did I really say that?
“No, Sadie, surprisingly, I’m not trying to fuck you and leave you like every other girl I’ve met.”
“How poetic,” I tease.
“I’m an artist and songwriter, so I’d think so.”
I’m about to respond when the doorbell rings. Before I can move, he stands from the couch with me in his arms. He holds me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing. My insides turn to mush.
“Get some plates, I’ll get the pizza,” he tells me, squeezing my hip, the small touch electrifying. He lowers me slowly to my feet, and our bodies touch, sliding against one another.
“The cash is on the entry table.”
“I’ll pay. Consider it an apology for the shit I said yesterday.”
“Ben, really, it’s forgotten. Don’t worry.” I go to move to the door, but he steps in front of me.
“Don’t try it, woman.”
“You can’t stop me.” I attempt to swerve around him, but he’s faster. “Ugh, Ben!”
“Move again and I’ll carry you over my shoulder to the door.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” He turns, challenging me, standing much taller than my short frame.
“Challenge accepted.” Before he gets a word in, I duck, moving around him. I’ve almost reached the cash when I’m pulled up into the air. The room around me is no longer in focus as I’m thrown over his shoulder.
“Ben!” I yell, kicking my legs.
He slaps my ass, and I cease moving and gulp. No one has ever touched me like that. Each time he touches me, whether it be an accidental graze, a massage, or a slap on my ass, I get turned on. A confusing thrill follows each moment. I shouldn’t desire someone who doesn’t know me. Honestly, I imagine he only sees me as a conquest.
“Settle down or I’ll smack it again, Sadie, right in front of . . .” He trails off, opening the door. “The nice man named . . .” He pauses, and I hear the pizza guy chuckle.
“Justin.”
“The nice man named Justin.” Somehow, he gets his wallet out of his back pocket as I dangle over his shoulder. I should be upset or embarrassed, but honestly, I’m having fun. I always feel like I’m in an imaginary hiding place, and suddenly I realize I haven’t been living. Not even a little bit. I’m laughing with a stranger, like Kate does. It’s something I envied, and now I’m laughing, playing, teasing, and rolling my eyes at Ben. My stomach is tight, and my core is pulsing with need. Tonight, I am feeling desire in the rawest form.
He rustles around then finally says goodbye to the delivery man.
“That was easy.”
He places me on my feet and holds the pizza box tightly. I get my balance back, and the blood leaves my head.
“You’re such a pain. You know that? I should toss you out.” I grab the soda, and he follows me into the kitchen. Everything in here is white, with light granite counters and silver appliances. The windows open to our backyard, sitting on the edge of a small patch of trees. Rain falls, making a light pelting sound against the windows.
“You liked it, it made you laugh,” Ben says. “Tell me more about your parents.”
I scoff and grab some plates from the cupboard. “My parents are in South Carolina visiting my Grandma Mo. She’s been having some health problems.”
That’s not what he meant when he asked about my parents, but I’m still feeling him out. I don’t want to tell all my secrets before I know him better.
“That’s rough. What’s wrong with her? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Old age. She can’t get around as fast as she once did, and she’s also had three strokes. Poor woman gets tired easily. The neighbors help her out a lot, but my parents like to go back once every few months and stay with her for a week or two, sometimes more.” I hand him a plate of pizza.
“Do your parents work? What are their names?”
“Are you playing twenty questions because you really want the answers? Or are you bored?”
“Neither. I want to get to know you.”
“Pickup line—that has to be one.”
“Nope, it’s the truth. I don’t lie, I’m too attractive to need to lie.” He winks.
“I don’t know if I want to throw you out or learn more about your lack of social skills.” I throw a piece of pepperoni at him, and he catches it in his mouth.
“I have great social skills. You’re just jealous that I have a better sense of humor than you do.” He throws a piece of pepperoni back at me, and I catch it in my mouth as well.
“Oh!” we shout in unison.
Tonight is turning out to be fun and a little less confusing than it was when I first opened the door.