34. Dixie
DIXIE
Being back in my teenage bedroom gives me a strange feeling, as if I'd left it just yesterday and yet it seems so long ago.
The white wooden furniture has both a classic and childish look to it, standing out against the turquoise painted walls.
I still remember when my parents agreed to repaint them to my taste.
I was twelve, and I spent weeks talking to them about this color that I dreamed about.
I think I wore them down. Sitting on the patchwork bedspread hand-sewn by my grandmother, I realize how much I've changed in the span of three months.
I approach my vanity table where the mirror reflects the image of the adult I've become. Around the edges of the mirror are photos of my brother and me, of family, of the cheer team I was part of. My gaze lingers on a group of girls who were my friends back then.
My heart tightens. When I got injured and had to stop dancing, I cut ties with everyone on the team.
It was too painful to be around them when I was no longer one of them.
My friends tried to keep in touch, but I distanced myself, and they stopped calling.
At the time, I was convinced I'd made the right decision.
Now, I wonder if I did the right thing .
A knock on my bedroom door draws my attention. The door is open and my mother stands in the doorway. She gives me a smile, one I’ve missed. "I'm so happy you're here, sweetheart."
She comes closer to me and I slip into her arms. I breathe in her perfume that I know by heart. For as long as I can remember, she's always worn it. That's my mother—when she becomes attached to something, she remains faithful to it until the end.
She kisses my forehead before stepping back to observe me better. She frowns, as if struck by a doubt. "Is everything okay at school?"
I just nod, my throat too tight to answer.
In reality, everything is not okay. Since Player left, I feel terribly empty.
It's crazy to realize how he had taken up a considerable place in my life.
Without even trying, he managed to invite himself into every moment of my existence at OMU and into every part of my being too.
"I can see something's bothering you, honey."
My mother's gentle voice soothes me as much as it makes me want to cry. I don't want to worry her, plus the rest of the family will be here any minute, and I don't want to face the pity-filled looks from my aunts and uncles. And even less answer the questions my cousins will surely ask.
"I'm sad that Bradley isn't with us for Thanksgiving."
It's not a lie; I miss my brother a lot and I was hoping to have a chance to spend time with him.
A veil of sadness passes over my mother's face. "Me too... I really thought he would get leave. They said that most troops do, but… I guess not."
I nod. I believed it until the end, but the good news never came. Today, as we've set the table and the turkey is in the oven, I have to admit that I'm going to spend Thanksgiving without him .
"We should go downstairs," my mother suggests. "Your grandmother should be here any minute."
I automatically glance at the clock in my room, it's almost eleven thirty, exactly the time when my grandmother appears at our doorstep every year. It's all the more notable because the rest of the time, she's always late.
"Come on."
My mother slides an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the stairs. We set foot on the ground floor just as the doorbell rings.
"I'll get it!" I call out before heading toward the hall.
Our house is old with a fairly classic layout, but I love it. This is where I grew up, and when I think of home, this building is what comes to mind.
I open the large varnished wooden door and find my grandmother behind it. Immediately, the good smell of her cornbread tickles my nostrils.
"Hello, Grandma!"
I'm not much taller than she is, but the wiser, elegant older woman has a presence that impresses everyone, including me.
"Hello, Dixie."
I plant a kiss on her cheek.
"Let me help you," I offer, pretending to take the dish from her hands.
Her gaze hardens, and she sassily says, "Listen here! I'm not a decrepit old woman yet, I can carry my cornbread to the kitchen."
I smile as she walks past me and finds her way through the house. I hear her greeting my mother, "Hello, Liane."
I don't even have time to move from my spot before the doorbell rings again.
I open it and a small army passes by me.
My two uncles, my father's brothers, Nick and Percy, are here.
They're accompanied by their wives and daughters, and an almost entirely female tribe descends into the hallway.
Immediately, Taohia and Tara, the twins, fall into my arms. We're almost the same age and we get along really well.
They all start talking at the same time. "So, what's OMU like?"
"Are there any hot guys?"
They continue like this, and I don't get a chance to get a word in.
"We're having a blast in L.A.!" Tara informs me.
Much to their parents' dismay, who would have preferred having them nearby, they were admitted to UCLA and moved to the other side of the country.
My cousins don't stop talking, and I listen to them with pleasure. I've missed them a lot.
Despite the size of the space, the noise level reaches new heights in the living room, as everyone is talking at once.
Conversations cross paths, and I hang back a bit, observing each member of my family, trying to fill my brother's absence with their presence.
If he were here, I know he'd tell me that Aunt Sallie looks like she already opened a bottle at home to get in the mood.
To which I would reply that Aunt Eva isn't in any better shape and that I suspect they meet up before leaving. Indeed, our uncles live in neighboring houses. Literally, their homes are almost attached.
A smile stretches across my lips, but all this is just in my mind, the sad reality is that Bradley will spend Thanksgiving with other Marines, far from his family. Suddenly, I regret not flying to join him, even though I doubt they'd let him receive visitors on the base.
My father takes charge of distributing drinks to everyone, while I move from group to group to chat with each person. Family is my center of balance, and I miss them all very much. We're just settling in the dining room when the doorbell rings again.
"I'll see who it is," my mother announces as she leaves the room.
The senseless hope that Bradley might surprise us makes my heart beat faster. I wait, trying to hear what's happening at the front door, but it's hopeless—the ambient chatter prevents me from catching the slightest sound.
When my mother returns, she's alone, and disappointment floods through me to the point of bringing tears to my eyes. I realize then that I really couldn't imagine a Thanksgiving without Bradley...
"Dixie?"
My mother's voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn my attention to her.
"Can you come here, please?"
Immediately, my heart starts racing again. Maybe all hope isn't lost?
Stop hoping so much!
I get up and walk around the table to join my mother who's standing near the entrance.
"You have a visitor in the parlor room, honey."
I frown, perplexed. The parlor? Mom almost never uses that, it’s barely big enough for the little bit of ‘fancy’ furniture she has. My old high school friends don't know I'm back, although they must suspect I'm home for Thanksgiving, but I can't see them showing up here...
I cross the ground floor before freezing at the entrance to the room. My heart starts pounding wildly against my ribs.
I shake my head. He can't be here...
His dark gaze finds mine, and the air crackles between us. This connection that has linked us since we met flares up again, and I feel like it's actually gained in intensity .
"Hello, Dixie."
His warm, deep voice rolls over my skin, making me shiver. He stays on the other side of the room, waiting for a reaction from me that's slow in coming.
"What are you doing here, Player?"
My voice is harsh. He keeps his fists buried in the pockets of his jeans. He's wearing a leather jacket over a black t-shirt, and he looks downright hot.
I could slap myself for thinking that! For fuck’s sake, this guy fought with my brother.
"My suspension is over. I'm back at OMU," he informs me.
I cross my arms over my chest. "Good for you."
Silence falls between us. The least we can say is that communication isn't our strong suit, at least not the kind that requires words. Our bodies, though, know exactly how to get along.
"And you needed to come all the way to Alabama to tell me that?"
He raises an eyebrow and his lips curve into a sexy smile before he answers, "After hearing so much about this place, I wanted to visit it."
"You do know classes start again on Monday? That doesn't leave much time for sightseeing."
Player tilts his head to the side without taking his eyes off me. I wish I could read his thoughts, because right now, I don't understand what he's doing in my parents' house.
"I came to apologize, Dixie."
He could have announced he was giving up women for the rest of his life and it would have shocked me just as much. I'm left speechless, but I pull myself together, and mockingly reply, "You? The great Player, ladies' man, world-class jerk, you're coming to ask for forgiveness?"
"Is that so hard to believe? "
I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
"You're not exactly a model of virtue, Player."
The tip of his tongue moistens his lips, and I can't help feeling desire for him.
At this moment, he's drop-dead gorgeous.
My stomach reacts, but I ignore this inappropriate response.
He moves toward me, and I resist the urge to back away.
When his cologne envelops me, I'm forced to lower my eyes so as not to betray the desire within me.
His voice is warm when he speaks to me. "I'm sorry for everything I did to you. I hurt you, and not just physically."
His fingers trace over my cheekbone which is almost healed, the remaining bruise hidden by some foundation.
With a motion of his index finger, he makes me lift my head before he gazes into my eyes.
"I never should have gone so far with you," he continues.
"I didn't take you seriously when you told me you were a virgin.
" His voice catches in his throat, mine is so tight that I'm unable to swallow.
His gaze passes over my lips before he looks away.
"There's something different about you, and I couldn't resist the temptation.
But I'm unforgivable because I knew better than you. "
I let out a small ironic laugh. "Maybe when it comes to sex, but for everything else, you were just as clueless as I was."
My heart beats strongly, and I feel my cheeks heating up. For once, I'm the one showing a bit of arrogance.
"You've never loved a woman, Player." He remains stone-faced, but I know I'm right, so I continue, "So yes, sexually, you knew exactly what you were doing, but for the rest... you got caught off guard. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you had already formed an emotional bond with a woman before me."
His gaze searches mine before he responds, "It doesn't matter what I feel or don't feel. I'm here to apologize, and now that I've done that, I'm going to leave. I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you at the table, and I don't want to fight with him again."
He moves around me and takes a few steps toward the exit. By the time I decipher his words, he's reached the door.
I catch up to him, confused. "What boyfriend are you talking about?"
He freezes, his hand on the doorknob, not turning around. "Bradley. "
"Bradley isn't my boyfriend," I inform him, almost too shocked to not realize how ridiculous this is getting. "He's my brother!"