Hurting
Sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar, dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans, black Converses, holding Tyler’s bear in the crook of my arm, I watch Hunter rinse off my syrup-covered plate. His pancakes were amazing, better than I remember. It’s been so long since I’ve had them.
Hero left as soon as Hunter told him to and Falcon is pacing on the front porch, whispering irritably on the phone.
Hunter places the light blue plate in the plastic dish rack on the counter next to the sink. Seeing him wash dishes in so odd. He used to keep his room very filthy when we were kids. He never ever cleaned. Dirt just piled on top of more dirt. Now he has transformed into a neat-freak. Everything in his elegant glass box is weirdly organized and color coordinated. Not one item out of place. His conversion is truly baffling to witness.
“He’s talking to his boyfriend,” Hunter says flatly, his back facing me.
“So,” I reply, nonchalantly.
Falcon told me he was bi when we first dated six years ago. It was never a problem for us.
“So?”
“Yeah, so?”
He snorts, amused, in disbelief and dunks his hands back into the soapsuds.
I study Hunter for a long moment, coming up with the only conclusion he would care about Falcon’s sexuality. “You know, Hunter, being homophobic doesn’t look good on you. We do live in a small southern town and all, but I thought you were more of a decent person than that. You’re just as bad as your mother.”
His spine automatically straightens and his hands stop searching in the foamy water. “I’m not homophobic, Isabel,” he says, offended and through gritted teeth.
Yeah, but your mother is.
“You know that. Jesus, I used to watch reruns of Will and Grace with you. I let you paint my face in glittery makeup and add pink flower and butterfly clips in my hair,” he says in a low, strained voice.
He takes his hands out the dish suds and slams his wet fists against the sink counter, starling me and making me jump. He clutches the edge of the sink, breathing heavily and trying to control his anger. “I’m not like my mother. I’m not anything like my mother,” he mutters, irately.
I’d apologize but it wouldn’t be sincere. In a strange and vengeful kind of way, making him upset makes me feel a lot better.
He wipes his hands on a small green dish towel that hangs off the handle of his stove. “I need some air,” Hunter mumbles, turning to face me. His ocean blue eyes have turned cold and sharp. Hunter leans his back against the sink and stares at me. “I’m going out for a while.”
“Okay,” I whisper, feeling a dull ache in my chest.
“I’m going to stop by your house to pick up your mail. Do you need anything?”
I nod. “My brother’s laptop, it should be on his desk in his room.”
“Got it,” he snaps, scooping up his truck keys off the bar. He strolls to the door and then halts, turning to face me. “I want you here, in my bed when I get back. You’re not ready to be on your own yet.”
“Okay,” I repeat, unsure of why I’m agreeing with him.
His lips twitch and he swings around, walking out the door. Falcon gives him a vicious glare as he moves past him, coming back in the house towards me. Hunter ignores him completely. Having Hunter and Falcon under the same roof is mindboggling. They haven’t been around each other since our freshman year of high school.
“I really don’t like him, Izzy,” he says, annoyed. “Why are you even here with him after what he put you through?”
I touch Falcon’s knee in a reassuring squeeze. He places his hand around mine and brings it up to the counter top of the bar, rolling my sleeve up. His fingers lightly trace the fine white scars that are littered across my flesh. “He hurt you to the point where you had to hurt yourself. I don’t know what his motive is, but I don’t trust him. He’s hungry for something to destroy; I see it in his eyes. I don’t trust him, especially with you, my love.” Falcon locks eyes with me, bringing my palm up to his mouth to kiss it. His familiar soft lips spark a light within me.
Before I can stop myself, I lean in and grab his face with my free hand and press my lips harshly to his. His breath hitches, his lips parting. My tongue darts inside and touches his. He groans, then places his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me away. “I can’t,” he says breathless, his brown eyes wide and pained. “I love you, but I love him, too. I can’t hurt you or him. Forgive me?”
I settle back on the stool, feeling extremely foolish. “I put you in a difficult spot. I’m sorry. I’m selfish. I want to be selfish right now, Falcon. But I don’t want to hurt you, either. Forgive me?”
He smiles, bright and beautiful. “Always, Izzy, always.”
I pull my bunched up sleeve down, running my hand over the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles. “How’s Vic anyway?” Victor is Falcon’s hot Latin lover. He met Vic at his art school in Japan his freshman year.
“He’s as bossy and whiny as ever. He actually told me what designer jewelry he wanted for his engagement ring, the cut, the size, the clarity, everything. My brat has expensive taste. I’m getting gray hairs at the ripe age of twenty-one.”
“You spoil him too much,” I tease.
“You’re right. He left school and followed me here when I told him not to. He’s worried about you. He misses you, too.”
“He’s sweet. I miss him.” Falcon is definitely the more masculine one, the protector. Victor is slim, unbelievably stunning, and heartbreakingly kind. “We should go out for dinner tonight.”
“Roxy’s Diner?”
I nod, excitedly.
Falcon’s light brown eyes sparkle and then narrow. “Are you two going to get me in trouble tonight?”
“Maybe,” I say.
***
Roxy’s Diner is a cool retro restaurant with peppermint booths, checkerboard floors, and bright bubblegum pink walls. The walls are hung with large black and white photos of celebrities in the late nineteen forties and fifties. The diner has a functioning jukebox and even the waitresses wear those adorable little pink and white dress uniforms with the cute aprons tied around their waists and the paper hats atop their heads. This warm, inviting place always, no matter what’s cooking, smells like fresh baked apple-pie. This diner is a time capsule. I love this place.
“Will ya’ll be having the usual?” Candy asks, smiling sweetly at each of us. She has shiny fiery red long hair and pretty large green eyes. Her skin is marble white and flawless. She, Falcon, Hunter, and I all went to school together. Candy and Hunter dated on and off throughout the years. But Hunter decided to settle down with Sally Baker, Miss Cherry Creek herself. Sally is the town’s cherished and beloved beauty queen. Her father is now the mayor of Cherry Creek. After a year of them being together, Hunter and Sally got engaged last summer. But six months ago Hunter and Sally mysteriously broke up for no apparent reason. Cherry Creek is a very small-town of only seven thousand and ten people. Everyone knows everyone and everything, but everyone was, and still is, baffled by the split between the two. They appeared picture perfect together. Barbie and Ken.
“Yeah,” Falcon answers, “’cept add a strawberry shake to Izzy’s order. She loves strawberry shakes.”
“Perfect. It’ll be right up,” Candy replies before wandering around to other tables.
“I know why her parents named her Candy,” Vic says, his brown eyes glinting at us.
“Why?” I ask, smiling.
“Yeah. Why?” Falcon asks too.
“’Cause I bet she’s sweet as sugar. I practically got diabetes from her beaming smile and batting eyelashes.”
“Honey lump, where do you come up with this stuff?” Falcon asks, truly intrigued.
“One of many talents,” he purrs.
“That was good, but her mom could only eat candy and sweet stuff when she was pregnant with Candy. It was the only thing that stayed down and didn’t make her sick. But Candy is really, really sweet, though,” I add. “It’s almost unnatural.”
Vic and Falcon smile at me. “It’s time to spill your guts, Pocahontas. Why on earth are you staying with John Smith?” Vic questions, suspiciously.
Exhaling, I sink back into the booth and stare at the happy couple that’s deeply in love with one another. I’d be sick with envy if I didn’t love Falcon so much. They both seem vibrant and full of life when I’m in a dull gray zone. I pull some napkins from the dispenser and toy with them, stretching them between my fingers. “He found me.”
“He found you?” Falcon says, confused.
“I took some…pills and dozed off in the tub,” I mumble, shifting my eyes out the plate-glass window avoiding theirs. The red glow of the bright neon lights outside of the diner bounces off the smooth mirror puddles in the black cracked asphalt.
“Bullshit, Izzy. You took pills so you wouldn’t wake up,” Falcon corrects with a sudden harshness that makes me shiver.
“Honey, you need to calm down,” Vic suggests quietly.
Feeling Falcon’s anger radiate off him in lethal bolts, I revert my eyes to his, trying my best not to flinch from the pain in his gaze. “Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t want to wake up. I still don’t. My father fucking hung himself in the basement. My mother killed herself with a fatal cocktail mixture of prescription drugs. My brother, my Tyler, jumped off The Suicide Bridge. I. Want. To. Die. You and Hunter can’t watch me forever. Why should you? I don’t have to suck it up and live life if I don’t want to. I can be a coward. Living and dying is my decision. It’s mine alone. You and Hunter don’t seem to realize that. You guys just don’t get it; I don’t have to move on.”
Falcon’s jaw hardens to the point I think all his pretty white teeth might crumble to broken fragments under the strain and pressure of grinding them. “You,” he states severely pissed, “don’t have a choice anymore. That privilege died when you wanted to. Swear to God, Isabel, swear to fucking Christ, I’ll have your ass on a long flight back to Japan with us…” in a move too fast for my eyes to process, Falcon’s arms shoots out and grasps me by my elbows, cruelly jerking me forward and across the table until our noses touch “…don’t test me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Breathing raggedly, I narrow my eyes.
Falcon’s grasp tightens, cutting off the flow of blood in my veins. “Do you understand me? If I ask again, your ass will be too sore to sit on. Got it?”
My eyes drop down to the wrinkled napkins that I grip tightly in my hands. Falcon has to have total and complete domination in his relationships. When we first dated, I thought it was some kind of juvenile phase. But I was wrong. He’s just controlling, that’s who he is and, to me, it’s one of his best qualities. “I understand.”
He releases me and I take a huge breath, the blood painfully circulating in my arms again.
“Honey, you need to approach Izzy carefully. She’s already frightened. Make her feel at ease,” Victor says softly, caressing Falcon’s tense arm. Then Vic’s warm brown eyes flicker to me. “Izzy, you haven’t experienced what life has to offer yet. You’re only twenty. Take a chance and do something so difficult it feels impossible. Live.”
“I can’t face the world as myself. I feel too raw,” I murmur.
“Who says you have to?” Vic asks. “What do you want to be? Pick someone so far away from who you truly are.”
I ponder on this for a while, coming up with one thing. “I want to be a whore, maybe just for tonight, or maybe longer.” I shrug. “Who knows?”
“Fun choice,” Vic agrees.
“I know, right? I’ve only slept with one person, who happens to be with the love of his life right now. My options of other men in Cherry Creek are very limited, but I still get to choose who I want to fuck. It’s been two and a half years since I’ve had any action. Maybe I’ll find a lonely old man or something.”
Falcon drops his head, squeezing his eyes shut, muttering angry things too low for me to hear under his breath.
“We should go to Mayhem after this,” I add.
Mayhem is an exclusive nightclub just outside of town. It’s world famous for the plush interior and insanely attractive women and men bartenders and staff. The coolest part is Falcon’s father, Blake, owns the entire place.
Vic’s gives me a concerned glance, giving Falcon’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Sure, why not?”
When Candy comes back with our food and drinks, I’m strangely the only one who has an appetite. I’m really hungry now, and not only for food.