For Always (11 page)

And then the car was moving again. Jordan drove and stopped the car in front of my house. When he spoke, his eyes regarded me with tenderness I’d not seen from anyone before. “Promise me something?” He waited for my reply. I nodded and he continued. “Promise you’ll call me, anytime you need someone to talk to. Any time you want.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He gave a slight nod of his head, a sign of his approval. “And don’t worry about Chris. After I talk to him, he won’t bother you anymore. I promise.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He smirked, looking slightly amused. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” His grinned widened, like he found something humorous in the situation.

“Jordan, do you think he was stoned? He seemed so weird tonight. You had to see that, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“Were you really going to fight him?”

“I knew I wouldn’t have to. Stoned or not, he knows better than to pick a fight with me.”

I stared trying to understand how Jordan could be so confident. Until he dismissed me.

“Goodnight, Stephanie.”

“Goodnight,” I answered.

I knew everything changed between us. He realized I understood him like no one else. And I knew no matter how he denied it, buried deep inside, there was a whole lot of hurt. And that mutual pain and understanding, paired with an unyielding attraction made us perfect for each other. I felt it in my heart and I knew he felt the same way.

And if he needed time to act on it, then time I’d give him. So I put my mind to it. I was going to wait.

And so I did.

I waited.

Fourteen

And I waited.

Fifteen

And I waited.

Sixteen

I brushed the red polish over my little toenail, trying for the third time to fix the pedicure I ruined when my toe scraped against the car door earlier in the evening. I’d recently discovered I liked pampering myself with manicures and pedicures. But I still hadn’t found the knack of getting the polish to dry without smudging it.

Two weeks before senior prom and almost two months before my eighteenth birthday, life seemed perfect. College loomed in the not too distant future. Although only an hour away from home I planned to live on campus. I had a wonderful boyfriend I couldn’t get enough of. And I felt like I broke through the insecurity and self-doubt I used as a shield most of my life.

The phone rang. It sat on my desk across the room, out of my reach. The ringer taunted me like a young child sticking her tongue out saying nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, daring me to answer it. I wasn’t about to move and ruin my little toe masterpiece, so I let it go to voicemail. Besides, I already knew what I’d hear.

After five minutes passed and I felt absolutely certain the polish had dried, I got my phone and listened to the message.

“Stephanie, it’s Charlie. I’ll be a little late.”

He always ran late. I’d grown so accustomed to Charlie’s last minute calls and texts, I knew to pad on thirty minutes if we needed to be somewhere on time. But tonight he made the plans which included when he would pick me up.

I wondered what he had in store for us. He told me to dress up, we were doing something special. Charlie was big on surprises and since I liked to be surprised, we were getting along great. I liked him. A lot. Maybe I even more than liked him. Maybe I loved him. Maybe.

I heard a knock at my door. I knew, like a mind reader, before I could even get the words, “Who is it?” out of my mouth, Maria would walk in without waiting for a response.

“What’s up?” she asked flouncing in and plopping on the bed next to me.

“Not much,” I answered, hugging my knees to my chest.

“Waiting for Charlie?” she asked.

“Yep,” I smiled.

“Did you get everything you need for the prom?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, “What about you?”

She nodded. “Picked up my shoes today. I can’t wait.” The last part came out in a high-pitched shriek. “Have you decided yet? Are you going to go through with it?”

Maria was referring to my sexual dilemma. While I cared very much for Charlie and we were barely able to keep our hands off each other, we still hadn’t gone all the way. And prom night being a cliché for first time sexual experiences, I had a decision to make.

Sometimes it made me feel like a freak. Everyone else did it. Even Maria. And she didn’t seem to have any regrets. Going all the way didn’t have the stigma my mother tried to convince me it did. At any rate, no one expected you to be a virgin when you walked down the aisle.

I had mixed emotions. Part of me wanted to wait until I was with my one true love. But on the other hand, unfamiliar longings boiled inside me, getting stronger by the day and I grew ever more curious. Until this point I hadn’t had the same interest in sex as my peers. Something I myself had a hard time understanding. I attributed it to two things.

First, whenever the prospect of having sex crossed my mind, I thought of all the people I’d lost, looking down on me from Heaven. I could hear my father calling my grandparents’ attention to what I was doing.

“Does everyone have a good view?” he’d shout out, and my grandmother would follow this up with gasps of horror, tisks, and “Where did she go wrong?” I pictured the look of disapproval on my father’s face as he shook his head in disappointment. Immediately any surfacing desires were squashed.

Second, I wasn’t emotionally connected to the guys I’d dated. Most of them were jerks. I didn’t think the possibility existed that I could ever grow to love any of them. Except Charlie. If I gave him enough time, I could love him.

I looked away avoiding Maria’s eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to forget Jordan.”

Jordan.

I had trouble swallowing. The sound of his name heightened every one of my senses. My heart leapt at the mere mention of him, and then fell back in place with the same ache I felt since the day I met him. Pathetic.

I shook her off, “This isn’t about him.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” She looked at me the way she did when she knew I lied. “It’s always about him.”

“Okay, it is, but not the way you think.”
“And what do I think?”

I rolled my eyes, annoyed we were having this conversation. “I want to
want
to make love to the person I’m with my first time.”

“What if it never happens with Jordan? What if you two are never more than good friends? Are you never going to have sex or get married?” she had the nerve to ask.

I shook my head, and answered very seriously, “No. I’ll join a convent.” She didn’t see the humor in that. I thought it was darn funny. “Look Maria, I want my first time to be special.”

“Yeah, but . . . ”

“I shouldn’t be fantasizing about Jordan when I’m with Charlie or else I’m not ready for that kind of relationship.”

“I just don’t want you to watch your life pass you by waiting for him to come to his senses.”

“I’m not,” I lied.

“Good,” she paused. “Because I’m not sure he ever will.”

Ouch.

“I ran into Madison while I was looking for shoes today.”

Madison. Maria sure knew how to rub salt in a wound. This name gave me angst, like a knife twisting deep in my heart. She was Jordan’s, over-a-year-and-a-half-long girlfriend. Just the mention of her name made me want to vomit.

“And?” I snapped.

“She was window shopping,” Maria hesitated, “for an engagement ring.”

I bit my bottom lip, no reason to panic. “Was Jordan with her?”

Maria shook her head, but I could see the argument forming in her eyes.

“Like you said, she was window shopping, no big deal.”

She sighed, “Stephanie.”

“He won’t marry her.” I said with absolute certainty. I saw her shake her head, just a small subtle movement. “Trust me. He won’t.”

Maria stood sorting through my closet when Charlie arrived.

“If you guys aren’t doing anything, why don’t you come out with Rob and me,” she offered.

“Thanks,” he answered, “but I have a special night planned,” he looked at me with his bedroom eyes and sly smile.

“Ooh. Sounds like fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Just remember what I said.”

“About?” Charlie asked.

She pulled a thin black scarf out of the closet. Deciding against it she attempted to put it back, but not before Charlie snagged it from her and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Nothing.” I answered, afraid she might tell him even she agreed we’d waited long enough to have sex.

“I have to go.” She shut my closet door unsatisfied with the selection. “Have fun.”

Once the door to my room closed behind her, Charlie pulled me playfully into his arms.

“What’s the scarf for?” I asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

I looked into his bright green eyes, contrasting nicely with his dark, almost black, mussed hair. They were playful as always.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.” His arms circled my waist.

“We were together yesterday.”

“I know. A whole twenty-four hours ago.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Charlie bent down to meet my lips. I loved his lips. They were soft and warm. The most kissable lips I’d ever encountered. His mouth opened. He always tasted sweet, like bubble gum.

Once we started kissing I lost sense of time and place. His hands roamed over my back, through my hair. I inched in closer to him, pressing my chest against his, feeling my cheeks getting hot. A delightful torture, wanting to let loose, to give in to his touch, knowing I couldn’t.

“Hem hem . . . ”

I pushed Charlie away as if his mouth suddenly turned venomous. My mother stood staring at us, leaning on the door jamb, her arms crossed, clearing her throat.

“Hello Charles.” She only called him by his proper name when she was annoyed with him, which wasn’t often. “Can I trust you two to behave yourselves this evening?” she asked, partially kidding.

“Of course,” Charlie answered with his arm around me. I could tell the way he looked down at the floor he felt embarrassed.

“Alright then. I’ll expect you home by twelve. If you’re going to be late, call me.” Then she broke down and smiled. “Have a good time.”

“We will.” I answered.

Seventeen

I pulled the seatbelt over my lap and waited until I heard the click of the buckle. Charlie pulled my scarf from his pocket. I’d forgotten about it until then.

“Are you going to tell me what that’s for?” I asked.

“It’s a blindfold.” He answered.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” he smiled mischievously. “Scared?”

“No.” I answered without hesitation. “Don’t you think that’s a little corny though?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked playfully.

“Of course I do.”

“Well then?” He raised his brows and I reluctantly turned, allowing him to cover my eyes with the black scarf.

Once he tied it, his hands dropped to my shoulders, his lips to my neck.

“My mother’s probably watching.” I protested.

He stopped, sighed loudly for effect and started the car. Before I knew it we were on our way. I hadn’t the slightest idea where. Surprised at how awkward and insecure I felt with my eyes covered I couldn’t help but think about my earlier conversation with Maria.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to wait for Jordan. To hope someday he would realize he always loved me, and sweep me off my feet. Didn’t I argue with my mother for years about this very same thing?

My mother never passed up an opportunity to haunt me. Anytime I’d mention I saw him, or he called, she’d follow up with, “It’s time to move on.”

Her voice echoed in my head, “You’re wasting your time dwelling on Jordan. Nothing will ever happen between you two.” Or, “If he liked you he would’ve asked you on a date by now. You need to forget him.”

“He does like me,” I’d fire back.

“Honey, actions speak louder than words.”

I knew that. It’s precisely those actions that had me so convinced. Every time Jordan looked at me, his eyes twinkled and glistened no matter the time of day or night. Even in a crowd his eyes sought me out and smiled. And I’d turn to jelly.

Jordan had an automatic reaction to flirt whenever a girl was nearby.

Any girl.

But it was different with me. If a hundred girls surrounded him, he’d make his way over and his eyes would dance as they fell on me. He’d find a reason to touch me, put his arm around me, or hold my hand, any sort of contact.

Charlie gave my hand a squeeze every now and again, pulling me back into the moment. He sensed my tension and chuckled.

“We’re almost there,” he assured me.

It felt like he read my mind and jumped in with his own affirmation. Yes, we were almost there I thought. On several levels. I was almost ready to admit I cared a great deal for him and almost ready to lose my innocence.

I often wondered if he minded the lack of physical intimacy more than he let on. Charlie tried not to complain much but I knew it was an issue. An adventurer, he often tried to explore new lands. Sometimes we moved forward a bit but we never crossed over into the final frontier.

I felt insecure. I thought a collegiate majoring in poly-sci with an internship in a local congressional office, had the right to expect more. That made me even more reluctant to make love to him. I needed to be sure I wasn’t going to be just another conquest.

“Why are you so quiet?” Charlie asked bringing my hand up to his lips.

“Just thinking about finals,” I lied.

“You’ll do fine.”

The car stopped.

“Wait until you see what I have planned,” he snickered.

I didn’t answer. I just waited for him to come around and open my door. He did so quickly and led me by the arm to our secret destination. We walked up three steps and through a squeaky screen door.

“We’re at your house?” I asked confused.

“Not my house. Chez Charles,” he spoke with a faux French accent.

“Why the blindfold?”

“You’ve been patient but I need just one more minute.”

A slight crack followed by the smell of sulfur told me a match had been lit. I peeked through the holes in my scarf. I had a difficult time making anything out. The light barely infiltrated the tiny holes in the material. I heard his footsteps lead away from me and soon return.

“What are you doing?”

His breath tickled the back of my neck as he brushed my hair to the side and kissed me, just below my ear, before untying the scarf. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Candles were lit through the whole house as far as I could tell. Tall candles, short candles and votive strawberry candles. I breathed in the beautiful scent while he rubbed my shoulders.

“What is all this?”

“A romantic home-cooked dinner.”

He took my hand and led me to the dining room table. It was set with simple beige linen coverings. The table cloth, placemats and napkins all shared a basic swirl pattern. Bone Lenox dishes were set out for food and a flowery pattern of crystal stemware for drink.

It was romantic. Very romantic. A nervous chill ran up my spine. I wondered why he had gone through so much trouble and what he expected in return. I suspected a price I wasn’t certain I wanted to pay.