The Opposite of Love (9 page)

21

CHASE

Chase hastily pulled the sheets and comforter up on his bed, smoothing out the wrinkles the way Candy had taught him. He collected a few pairs of jeans and some boxer shorts in his arms, then deposited them in the hamper.

“Don't mind my house,” he apologized.

First of all—it wasn't a house. It was a two-bedroom rented apartment with mismatched pieces of furniture from random garage sales. The kitchen table stood on three solid legs and one that had cracked and had been duct-taped back together. The television only got four channels without static, so Daisy'd been sitting about ten inches away from the screen, trying to watch some rerun of
The Simpsons.

“My, uh, dad hasn't paid child support since he left … so we haven't been able to really fix up the place,” Chase explained, fingering his navy blue bedspread.

“You think I care about shit like that?” Rose asked incredulously. She picked up a magazine and paged through it. “You should see my house. We have a whole living room we're not allowed to use. And you can't even wipe your hands on the towels in the guest bathroom because then she'll have to wash them again. And she doesn't want to wash them all the time because then they'll fade. So I can't even take a piss in the bathroom closest to my bedroom.”

Chase smiled.

“Don't laugh. It sucks. If there is a hell, I'll bet it's filled with kitchens you can't eat in and bathrooms you can't pee in.” Rose set down the magazine and eyed his bed. “And beds you can't sleep in.” With that, she stuck her hand in her back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of black construction paper. It had been folded over and over until it was the size of a playing card. “So I made you something.”

“You did?” Chase asked, surprised but trying not to show it.

“It's nothing.” She handed it over, waited two seconds, shifted her weight, then grabbed it back out of his hand. “Here.” She unfolded it for him, smoothing it out flat with her hands. “You probably won't get it.”

He stared at the paper, completely black except for what looked like chalk outlines of hands. Two hands, one reaching for the other, like right before they linked fingers. “I get it,” he answered a little too quickly, hoping she didn't ask him what it meant. “You drew this?” She nodded slightly. “You're really good.”

“It's us.” Rose shoved the picture at him, looking down at her fingernails. “It's me giving you my hand.” She looked so small suddenly, Chase thought. “It's symbolic.”

“Symbolic, huh?” Chase half grinned.”Are you giving yourself to me?”

Rose looked at him squarely, and for a second Chase thought she was angry. Then she laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter. How many times do I have to tell you we're not having sex today?”

Not
today?
Chase's heart leaped at her choice of words. Because that meant the door might be open another day. He forced himself to stay focused, though, and came up with a good comeback. “What can I say? I have a Y chromosome.”

“Yeah. I suppose I can't blame you.” She shoved his shoulder playfully. “Besides, symbolism is up for interpretation, right?” Rose leaped into the center of his bed, bouncing like on a trampoline. “So, your sister's cute.”

“Yeah,
I
like her. Sometimes I think she's the only real family I've got.” Chase smoothed the picture, then set it on top of the pile of crap on his desk.

“What about your mom? And where is she, by the way?”

“Candy's at work, like always. She's never here.”

“Is your mom's name really Candy?” Rose covered her mouth with her hand.

“Born and raised. It's not even a nickname. It's the actual name on her birth certificate.” Chase shrugged. “Candy's fine, I guess. I know she loves us. We always have enough to eat and clothes to wear. But she's never been a storybook mom. She doesn't do much to help us with our homework or sit down and ask us about our day. She's more like a big sister than a mom. She was our age when she had me.”

“Crazy.” Rose drew her knees up to her chest. “And he beat her, huh?”

“What?” Chase's head snapped up.

“Your dad, he knocked her around.” Rose tucked her chin behind her knees. “You were talking about yourself before. You know—that bullshit about God not trying to manage everything … child of abusive parents learning something. It sounded to me like you were talking about yourself.”

“What are you, a shrink?”

“I probably could be, for all the hours I've spent on the couch. I always just sat and stared at the walls for the full fifty minutes. But to watch them write that check every week—painfully, I might add—that was priceless. Money thrown away.” Rose straightened up a little. “You don't have to tell me, you know.”

“What does it matter?” Chase sank down next to her on the bed, mostly so he wouldn't have to make eye contact. He'd never told anyone about that. Daniel just
knew
. He'd seen the bruises and the shame that made them raw.

“It doesn't really matter, I guess. Just trying to figure you out.” She twisted her body so they were eye to eye again. “Did you know people share personal things about themselves all the time without realizing it? I know more about you than you think.”

“Oh yeah?” Chase shook off his cloud and tried to make his tone light.

“Yeah.” She leaned in closer to him. “I bet I know your zone.”

“My zone?”

“Your erogenous zone.” She kneeled on the bed and brought her body close to his. He could feel her breasts press into his shoulder as she touched her mouth to his ear. “Your ears,” she whispered. The hotness of her breath sent a lightning bolt through him. She kissed his earlobe gently, and then it was like she was French kissing his ear and he could only tolerate it for a moment. Too intense. He pulled away.

“I was right, wasn't I?”

It took Chase a moment to find his voice. “I have goose bumps in places I've never noticed before. Does that answer your question?” He leaned back against the pillow. He could feel his heart pulsing and pumping blood through every organ in his body. “Give me a sec. I'm still recovering.”

“I knew it!” She flopped back down on the bed triumphantly. The bed bounced a little. Chase brought his hand to her smooth arm. “It's a skill, I tell you.”

“I won't argue. That
is
a skill. My ear is still tingling.”

“I wasn't talking about my tongue. I was talking about being able to read people.” Rose pulled him toward her by his shirt. Before he knew it, he found himself actually lying on top of her. He figured he nearly doubled her weight, and he worried about squishing her. “Now you try,” she whispered. “Tell me about me.”

“You're beautiful,” he breathed, smelling the sweetness of her. She smelled like scented hand lotion, girly shampoo, and winterfresh gum. He could hardly smell the cigarettes.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. Like beautiful was nothing.

He touched his nose to hers for a moment, then pulled far enough back to be able to see her whole face without going cross-eyed. “I guess I'd say that you were talking about yourself before too. About the child separated from her mother.”

Rose didn't answer, just used her weight, what there was of it, to roll him over and put herself on top. “That's better.”

“So, uh, what happened with your real mom?”

She waited a moment, then spoke softly. “Don't know, really. Other than she got arrested.” Rose stopped and studied him, like she was trying to decide whether to tell him something. “For turning tricks.” Pause. “Does it surprise you that my mom was a whore?”

Chase didn't know how to answer that. It didn't surprise him really, but that might be kind of insulting. “I never thought about it.”

“Well
I'm
not,” she told him firmly, sitting up, her legs still wrapped around him. “I'm not a whore. I never give it up unless
I
want to.”

“I know you're not a whore,” Chase whispered. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair again, but she seemed so fragile for a moment, and he didn't want to break her.

“Oh, come
on
,” she snapped. “When I came over here today you thought you were gonna get some.” She paused. “And I'm sure my name is all over the boy's bathroom in Sharpie.”

It was, but Chase didn't want to say so. “That doesn't make you a whore.”

“Don't you want to know how many partners I've had?” she challenged, but in a for-curiosity's-sake way.

He did, kind of, but he wasn't about to ask.

“I've had sex more times than I can count. It's overrated.” She stood up from the bed, pushing her hair back from her face, flushed. “But I'm an emotional virgin. I've never done it with someone I loved.”

He thought for a minute, then admitted, “Same here.” He'd never done it before period, but this didn't seem like a bad lie.

“So that's why I'm keeping my clothes on today.”

“Why?” he asked, confused and maybe a bit relieved.

“Because I don't trust you enough to love you. It's too dangerous.”

Love me?
Chase thought. But her face seemed far away, like she'd put on an invisible mask for protection. She edged toward the door. “Shit … I'm not sure I remember what love feels like.” She stuck her hand behind her to open the door to Chase's room. “All I know is that this feels real. And I don't want to screw it up.” Then a delayed second later she grinned. “No pun intended.”

22

ROSE

When Chase and Rose slammed in through the front door earlier that afternoon, Daisy had been sitting all close to the tube, her dirt brown hair sprouting out in every direction.

“No hello?” Chase had teased his sister, tousling Daisy's hair, messing it further, and she ducked her head under his arm. “Hey, Daisy, this is my friend Rose.”

Daisy eyed Rose warily.

With no forethought, Rose brought Nala out from behind her back. Her claws scratched against Rose's skin. “Want to see something cool?” she whispered conspiratorially.
When in doubt, bribe
.

Daisy nodded, slowly at first and then eagerly. Nala sniffed Daisy's hands, then carefully stepped from Rose to Daisy. Nala placed her front paws on Daisy's shirt, her claws catching the material. Daisy giggled and nuzzled her nose against Nala's fur.

“Can I hold the kitten while you guys hang out?” Daisy asked breathlessly.

Rose ran her hand over Nala's back, feeling her arch to the touch. Her black fingernails slid through the white fur as easily as if they were on skis. She looked over at Chase, then back again to Daisy. She heard herself say, “Sure.” And then, “Actually, I could use someone dependable to cat sit from time to time.”

Daisy's face looked incredulous, like Rose had just offered to pay her to eat a bowl of French vanilla ice cream. “Cat sit?” Rose nodded. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She bounced on the faded couch cushions.

Chase knocked Daisy on the head softly with the base of his hand. “You're supposed to negotiate a fee first, silly.”

“Are you kidding? I'll pay
her
to let me watch the cat!”

Chase held up his hand. “As Daisy's representative, I'll negotiate her fee.” He leaned over to whisper in Daisy's ear. She nodded, her smile stretching from one ear to the other. Then he stood up again. “My client requests payment in jelly beans.”

“Jelly beans, huh?” Rose bit her lower lip, trying to hold in her smile. “Any particular kind of jelly beans?”

“One moment, please. I will consult with my client.” He cupped his hand around his ear and leaned back down toward Daisy. “Jelly Bellies are preferred,” he announced. “But please remove all buttered popcorn flavor as my client and I agree they are disgusting.” Daisy tugged on his arm and brought her lips up to his ear. He smiled. “Oh yes. Watermelon, coconut, and bubblegum flavors are house favorites. Extras will be looked upon kindly.”

Daisy's smile stretched clear across her face.

After a good half hour in Chase's room, Rose pushed through Chase's door—her clothes still intact—and came back into the living room/family room/kitchen combo. She found Daisy dozing on the couch, Nala curled up on her chest. Nala opened one lazy eye to look at Rose, then closed it sleepily. That was when she told Chase that Daisy could cat sit every night, just while she continued to “get to know him” better.

Chase half smiled, like he was imagining that, but then he shook his head skeptically. She noticed that the top of her head came to his chest. “How in the world is that gonna work? There is no way your parents will let you off your leash to come over here. Are you kidding?”

“They don't have to know,” Rose said, turning away quickly.

“I could come over to your place. Your mom likes me.” Chase smiled extra wide in an I-know-I'm-adorable kind of way.

“No!” Rose practically shouted. She lowered her voice. “If I sneak out late and pad my bed, they won't catch me.” Rose sighed and said seriously, “So no coming to my house.
Ever
. That's a rule. They can't know about
us
. I will come to yours, and the wardens won't find out.”

Chase slung his right arm over her shoulder like a seat belt. He turned her around so that they were eye to eye. “There is nothing I'd like more than to see you every night,” he began. “But watching you self-destruct is not exactly a turn-on.”

Rose stood for a moment, not sure whether to argue or slap him. He was so darn cute when he was being protective. She kissed him instead. Pressed her lips firmly into his. “I have other ways to turn you on. Besides, self-destruction is not on my agenda. Spending time with you is.” She shook her head. “Don't worry about anything. Just come along for the ride.”

“I don't know—”

“The Parsimmons go to bed at eight. I'm supposed to be in bed by then too. Which is ridiculous, of course. Only people over sixty or under ten go to bed that damn early,” Rose complained, trying to get him to understand. “They come in to make sure I haven't stolen the family fortune or smuggled a boy into my bed, but after they fall asleep—they are out for the count. After that, I could have a rock concert in my room and they wouldn't wake up.”

“What if they hear you open your window?”

“They won't. Last year they bought these air-purifier machines they saw on an infomercial. They basically just blow air around the room. But they make mega noise. I can totally sneak out without them hearing.”

Chase did not look convinced, so Rose went on, “Look, Chase, it isn't up to you. The only part that's up to you is whether you let me in your front door. And Daisy might beat you to it on that one. So that means the only thing that's up to you is whether you let me in your room.”

“Somehow, I don't see myself turning you down.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Rose moved onto her tiptoes. She kissed him again, this time longer. Her lips tingled and her head vibrated. She wished she could carry that feeling back home with her, but like the buzz from cheap beer, she knew it would wear off by then anyway.