Whispers of the marrow, p.21
Whispers of the Marrow, page 21
Drugs had a way of changing people. Aryn would know this all too well. Before her family had moved to the States, she had been forced to watch as her father succumbed to alcoholism until his death at the early age of forty-one. She would never have imagined falling in love with an addict, made stranger by the fact Zee hadn’t shown any signs of addiction at first.
No, it had crept up with stealth, not making an appearance until six years into their relationship. Or maybe she’d refused to acknowledge the signs until they were too obvious to ignore. Aryn had, for a long time, failed to pinpoint what vile factor had brought about such a dramatic change in her former lover. Alcoholism hadn’t topped the list.
It seemed to have descended upon Zee all at once, almost like a mental cancer in its final stages. And just like any grieving family member, the thought of not being enough, of not being able to change the circumstances, was what Aryn reported had angered her more than anything.
She swiped her arm across the table, causing her half-filled coffee mug to shatter across the floor. “You don’t ever think, do you? Not until it suits your incredibly selfish agenda do you ever fucking think of how your actions have consequences for everyone else!” She was standing now, splatters of brown coffee on her bare legs as she paced around the mess, then stopped to point an accusing finger an inch from Zee’s face. “And you’re sorry? Sorry! Fuck you and your sorry! A year ago, maybe it would have carried some weight, but we’re a little beyond just sorry now. I could care less about your half-baked fucking excuses.”
“Then what the fuck do you want from me?” Zee tossed back, standing tall to give as good as she was getting. Gone was the tired and remorseful woman, now replaced by a fiercely beating heart with an inherent need to go on the defensive and wrought with the love of a challenge. “Why the fuck would you come here if you didn’t want an apology? Look, it may surprise you to learn I’m not a fucking mind reader. Never was, never will be. I’m trying my best, Ryn.”
Her voice bore a tiny tremor; however, it could have been a tremor of anger rather than hurt.
She stalked closer, causing Aryn to take an involuntary step back. Dropping to her knees, she gripped Aryn’s hand, too fueled to notice her left pant leg dampening from the coffee spill, and the diamond ring scraping against her palm. “Shall I beg, Princess? Is that it?”
Their stasis had always been fire and brimstone. Zee seemed to be pushing for something now and she was transmitting it to Aryn, wrapping it around her like new skin.
The slap stunned them both and Zee’s cheek burned hot as she was laid bare to Aryn’s rage. “Begging is the least you could do,” Aryn seethed, ruthlessly yanking her hand from Zee’s hold.
It was obvious the separating action did little to quell Aryn’s growing desire to lash out, and she was doing this more and more as if wanting to provoke Zee into retaliation.
Maybe she hadn’t meant to lose it, though. Perhaps it was merely that her heart thudded in her ears. It had been more than a year since Aryn had allowed herself to become so—
Aryn never hit Jonathan, had never hit anyone who behaved unreasonably. He would never provoke, never challenge her because it was good between them and he was good.
But something in Aryn’s demeanor displayed that she didn’t crave good in that way.
Perhaps it was the thought of him, of the wretched goodness in the man, and the thought of who he could never be that drove her to strike Zee, again, only this time with her words.
“Oh, poor Zemira. Boo-fucking-hoo. She can’t figure how not to screw things up. She can’t figure out anything regarding her goddamned life, blaming everyone else for her shortcomings.”
Zee flinched at the assault, but Aryn viewed the spark in her eyes, surely seeing how she yearned for more; in any case, she appeared all too eager to oblige. “And we all suffer, don’t we? We all suffer for your mistakes. Even now, you can’t take responsibility for...” She waved her hand carelessly between them. “Any of this. You know what your problem is?” She chuckled cruelly. “You give up far too easily for someone who was already taking the easy way out.”
Zee blinked back tears, her former lover’s honest words doing far more damage than any physical pain she could possibly inflict. She slowly stood to her feet, but instead of running away or falling apart, she moved into Aryn’s space, trapping her back against the kitchen island.
Her face remained impassive, but then their gazes locked, making a connection more tangible than a spark amongst dry kindling. “Then I’m sorry for not fighting harder.”
Zee spoke softly, her breath tickling overheated olive skin.
“Want me to say you’re right?”
She shook her head.
“I realized a long time ago that an apology wouldn’t cut it,” ventured Zee. She brought a thumb up to stroke Aryn’s plump lower lip, both of them shivering at the contact. “And why should it when you deserve so much more? You want me to feel more than sorry. I do. You want me to experience the true loss of us?”
Aryn sucked in a trembling breath, which emboldened Zee to continue. “I do. I’m living it every fucking second. It stings like deep cuts ya can’t find. I wake up every goddamn day and... you’re not here. This house reminds me of you in every way and it drives me fucking insane,” she whispered brokenly, her throat constricting with upset. “But mostly, ya want me to grieve the death of us and I... I can’t. Because for me, it’s not dead. We’re not dead. Because—”
Zee closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her forehead against Aryn’s.
At any moment, her ex-girlfriend would send her stumbling backwards with a look of disdain, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was emotionally drained and being near Aryn made her logical brain a little less logical. The shoving never did come, and when Zee finally discerned what the tightness near her chest was, she exhaled shakily.
Aryn’s pale fingers fisted in the front of her shirt, holding her firmly in place.
Zee’s hand moved to cradle the side of Aryn’s neck, her thumb continuously stroking the jawline of the unapologetically sharp woman as they hovered around the infinitesimal space between them. Hazel eyes momentarily dipped to Zee’s lips, allowing Zee to observe the intensity of the internal struggle within.
However, Aryn wasn’t a cheater, not even during game nights. She was loyal to a fault if said state actually existed, her steady gaze wielding more power than the lasso of truth. Her heart squirmed with indecision, yet its rhythm may have kept the tone Zee-Zee-Zee-Zee.
Zee’s smell.
Zee’s eyes.
Zee’s taste—
The doorbell sounded, fracturing the tension.
The decision had been made for them, both women freezing at the offending interruption, their breathing heavy as their minds clambered back to reality. Aryn stepped aside, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her dress as she carefully avoided Zee’s stupefied gaze.
Her hardened mask slipped back into place.
“They’re here,” Zee murmured, and to the other woman’s questioning look, she clarified, “Taylor’s dropping the boys off for the weekend.” Aryn’s features softened at the mention of their nephews and Zee found that she hated herself a little more at the subtle reaction.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
Aryn nodded curtly. “Go answer it. I’ll clean this up.” She headed to the storage closet, stepping over the broken mug on her journey.
Zee mumbled thanks as she left the kitchen, failing to not wish the word almost. She opened the door to an impatient Taylor.
“About damn time,” the older sister chided, ushering her sons inside, Junior’s Ninja Turtles backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Nice to see you, too.” Zee turned her attention to her nephews, choosing not to engage in her sister’s side-eye. “Sup fellas?” She received only grumbled salutations in return, the two boys’ eyes glued to their tablets.
Taylor handed the backpack to her sister, whispering, “Is that Aryn’s car?”
“It is.”
“And she’s here?”
“We’re not having this conversation,” Zee said, leading them all into the den. “You’re early.”
“The wine night I’m hosting for the ladies on my decorating committee got pushed forward. And we are so talking about this, sis.”
“We’re really, really not.”
Taylor huffed. “Fine. I’ll just text Anthony and speculate.”
Still wearing their navy slacks and white polos from school, Junior and Jameson plopped down onto the reclining loveseat in the den before descending upon the bowl filled with an assortment of mini candy bars on the table in front of them.
Zee narrowed her eyes at them. “You guys could at least say thank you,” Zee said a little louder, only earning her more crunching in return.
“Every parent knows it’s the electronics that do the real parenting. If you want them to listen, just do what I do and ignore them when they’re hungry. It gets the point across,” Taylor explained before removing the candy bowl from the table and shoving it into Zee’s hands. “And don’t let them have candy.”
The collective gasp she received from the three people in the room almost made her laugh.
“But it’s Halloween!” they cried.
“Sounds unfair to me, too, boys,” Aryn said as she strode into the room.
“Auntie Aryn!” the brothers yelled. And as if by some miracle, both the eight and five-year-old tossed their games aside, leaping up from their seats to run and greet their favorite person.
“We missed you,” Jameson crooned as Junior asked, slightly offended, “Where ya been?”
Aryn kissed their heads as two sets of thin limbs surrounded her hips and thighs. Zee couldn’t turn away from the private reunion. The affection pouring from her ex-girlfriend made her heart wince as she was the one to blame for their separation.
“I’ve been working non-stop,” Aryn explained to them, her eyes glancing to Zee. “But I’ve missed you guys, too. So, so much.” She stepped back to admire them both and they soaked up the attention. “Wow! You’ve both gotten so tall. Are you trying to outgrow me?”
“No, you’re just shorter than other adults, Auntie Aryn,” Jameson chirped, earning him a comically betrayed look from the brunette.
“Well, I think you’re really, super tall,” Junior announced with absolute confidence.
“Thanks Junior. Jam’s just jealous,” she joked, poking Jameson. The three of them laughed and the boys started up again with more questions. Her eyes grew desperate at the question of why she no longer lived there.
Getting the message, Zee stepped up. “Hey guys, how about you go put your bags in your bedroom and get changed into some comfier clothes? We’ll order pizza and watch scary—” Taylor punched Zee in the shoulder.
“Funny movies,” Zee corrected, glaring at her older sister. “Funny kid movies.”
The kids scurried from the room at the promise of processed cheese and grease, a strong motivator for someone of their age, but not before making Aryn promise to stay long enough to give them a proper goodbye.
If Aryn felt any anxiety at the day’s events, she masked it with a blank calm.
“Hey Taylor,” she said, finally having a chance to address her friend, though sister would be a more fitting term. “I like the new hair color.”
Taylor preened, running her fingers through the honey-blonde front lace she wore. “Thanks, girl. Just got it done today.”
It had been an easy friendship between the two women, sharing a variety of interests, an unquenchable thirst for all things Andy Cohen and imported carpets, to name a few. The breakup had left a homegirl-sized hole in Taylor’s life, relying on the likes of Brigette Davies or a random visit from one of her college friends to fill it.
“I know I texted you, but congratulations, again,” Taylor offered. She caught sight of the sizeable diamond on Aryn’s finger. “Oh, he did good.”
“He did,” Aryn replied. Her gaze sought out Zee, but the other woman had other plans, busying herself with putting her nephews’ electronics away before stashing the candy bowl on the shelf above the television. “I need to use the bathroom, but it was good to see you, Taylor,” Aryn said truthfully. She stepped forward to give Taylor a brief hug before leaving the room.
“What happened?” Taylor asked her sister as soon as Aryn was out of earshot.
“Nothing happened,” Zee said.
“Haven’t we gotten past all the keeping secrets from each other?”
Zee sucked her teeth. “Oh, is that a thing now?”
“Hate me all you want, but I did what I thought was right to protect you,” Taylor said. “However, I am sorry for the way we went about it. We all are. We should have never lied to you. But at the time, it was the easier option.”
Zee let the anger seep from her bones. “Aryn and I talked. That’s it. Can you back off now?”
“Yeah, sis,” Taylor said softly. “Just... be careful, all right?”
The mere suggestion felt blaming and condescending to her ears.
“I’ll be fine,” Zee said cuttingly.
Taylor nodded, even though her eyes still reflected pity to her younger sister’s dismay. She yelled goodbye to her sons before taking her leave, abandoning Zee to stew in silence.
Needing a distraction from her older sister’s words, Zee headed off to check on her nephews, pausing outside the guest bedroom door when their voices resounded from inside.
“Okay, you can’t stay for pizza, but will you go to the fair with us tomorrow?” Jameson asked.
“Yeah! We’re gonna go on all the rides,” Junior added enthusiastically.
Aryn laughed, the sound warm and raspy with the barest hint of despondence. “I wish I could, but your Auntie Zee and I... It’s just—”
“What’s up?” Zee asked, suddenly stepping into the room. She glanced meaningfully at Aryn as she sat on the floor facing the three people sitting on the queen-sized bed. “Are you guys giving Auntie Aryn a hard time?”
“No!” The kids looked appalled, as if the idea of being anything but darling to their Auntie Aryn was beyond perverse.
“We jus’ wanted her to go to the fair with us,” Junior whined.
Jameson bobbed his head. “Yeah, tell her she can come with us, Auntie Zee,” he pled.
Zee rubbed at the back of her neck. “I’d love for her to come, but I think she’s working. Right, Aryn?” Searching Aryn’s face, she found reluctance and longing. “Unless you have time off. The boys and—they’d love it if you could join us tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea,” Aryn said and Zee nodded. No matter how much they desired the statement to be false, its glaring truth couldn’t be ignored.
“You missed my birthday party. This can be my present,” Jameson added slyly.
“I’m pretty sure I sent you a gift, Jam,” Aryn replied.
Jameson pulled at a loose thread on his pants, his eyes downcast. “Yeah, but you weren’t there,” he said solemnly. “It’s only a real present if you’re there.”
Good going, kid, Zee thought. Aryn melted like butter for their nephews. They both did. Who knew negotiating with adorable children would be such an impossible business?
Aryn sighed in resignation. “Okay. I’m in. Only for you, Jam.”
Like flicking a switch, Jameson lit up and Junior wrapped his arms around Aryn’s neck in an exuberant hug. The brunette sought out Zee, who shrugged and didn’t bother concealing her smug grin. Aryn couldn’t fight the urge to smile back, then—as if remembering why she was there in the first place and why she needed to leave—it faded.
She extracted herself from the boys reluctantly. “I should head home.”
“You live in a new house?” Junior asked for the second time that day, the confusion written all over his face. Aryn showed a hint of heartbreak in the furrowing of her eyebrows and the sadness of her gaze. Zee had helped her avoid the question earlier and she took the opportunity to do it again. It was the only thing that attempted to alleviate her guilt.
“Yes, little man. Auntie Aryn lives in a different house now,” Zee answered. “And if you’re good, maybe she’ll let you guys visit.”
Aryn nodded, giving her nephews a reassuring smile. “You can come visit anytime. I have to get going now, but I can’t wait until we can eat all the funnel cake tomorrow.”
She departed them with a final farewell and fled the stifling room, coming face to face with a picture hanging on the wall, one of her and Zee sharing a kiss under the mistletoe at the Johnsons’ annual Christmas party. They were grinning ear to ear, looking utterly in love.
She visibly swallowed and kept moving. Her trench coat hung on the coat rack in the foyer, but not her purse. She went to the kitchen, giving it a quick scan. Nothing. Searching the floor on her way to the living room, she crashed into a firm body coming around the corner.
Zee fumbled with the clutch yet managed to save the contents from spilling onto the floor.
She passed the purse to its owner.
“You left it on the bed,” Zee said awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Aryn responded. Her fingers flexed and only then did she look down as if now noticing her grip on Zee’s forearms. She tactfully removed her hands, taking her purse and clearing her throat. “Sorry.”
In retrospect, meeting with Zee in their shared home of all places clearly wasn’t the best idea. The longer she remained within its abalone walls, the more difficult it would become to abandon the woman within them, a woman she might even still find attractive. A warm hand on her wrist intended to pull Aryn from such thoughts, Zee studying her with concern.
“You good?” Zee asked.
She wasn’t, of course. Aryn was staring down the hallway where Junior shouted at his older brother to leave him alone. “I miss them,” she admitted. “All of them. Taylor, Ms. Sophia, too. I think I even miss your mother... okay, that may be a stretch.”
“Y’know she pretty much just sends her shade all my way now,” Zee said wistfully. “She and the good Reverend were in excellent form at Talbit Harvest last weekend.”
