Ashton

This was not how I planned to spend my Saturday night.

My eyes flicked from the screen to Isla who was snuggled deeply into the crook of my arm, twirling her pink pocket knife between her fingers. This was almost like a game, I would look at her and she would look up to catch me but my eyes would flick elsewhere before she could catch me. We played this game a lot. Every single time we made plans it was a given that this awkward game would take place. The only difference between this and a game was that I sucked at the staring intimately at your partner game and Isla was a professional.

We were supposed to be watching a movie together, I’d just gotten the latest scifi blockbuster from my buddy at GameStop and I’d invited her over. Even though my friend had called it a “great film”-which by his standards was pretty high-I was only half watching the movie which was more than I could say about Isla. She wasn’t looking at the screen at all.

The shiny object in her clutches had her full attention. Every few minutes she would move to stare at me, but when I looked at her she wouldn’t look away. She truly had a ton of practice at the uncomfortable staring game I clearly had no mastery of yet.

Everytime she looked at me it was as if she was searching for something in my soul. She opened her eyes wider when you made eye contact with her. Her dark lashes batted after a few seconds but she didn’t look away, even if you did first. It was strange to watch. I think that was the whole reason I suggested a movie-so I would have an excuse not to make awkward eye contact with her.

Isla and I’s relationship was different from others. For the most part we just sat in comfortable silence. Isla was a woman of few words and I quite enjoyed it. Sure we had meaningful conversations but I really enjoyed having an actual girlfriend and not an attention-seeking puppy at my side all the time.

Isla wasn’t clingy in the slightest and sometimes it worried me because she wasn’t nearly as attached to me as I was to her but I knew that was just how she was and I suppose I could live with it.

“Are you watching the movie?” She asked, shoving her knife back in her pocket. I ran a hand through her hair, finding it funny that she was asking me when she wasn’t paying attention to the film in the slightest.

“Are you?” I ask, tracing the pattern of her freckles with my pinky. She pushed herself up, her french braids bouncing. I wonder how she did them. My sister always talked about how hard they were to do on yourself but as far as I knew Isla lived alone with her pocket knife as her most trusted companion.

“I’m not watching it. I’m listening to it.” She pouted and and crossed her arms like she was a child who had just lost an argument over the last piece of bubblegum. I wanted to explain to her that that wasn’t how movies worked but I didn’t feel like arguing the proper way to watch a movie. I don’t think Isla watched movies in her spare time.

“Okay princess.” I tell her, pulling her back down to lay with me. I hated disagreeing with Isla. I wouldn’t call this a disagreement but I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for her. Especially since she was most definitely the perfect girl for me.

We sat in comfortable silence, just staring at the film. Her awkward look game had ended but she still glaced at me once in awhile. She no longer searched my soul, whatever she needed to find must have been found.

Maybe I was paranoid and the whole thing was just her checking to see if I really was watching the film. The film was halfway decent. I probably would have found it more enjoyable if I weren’t watching it with Isla and I could focus more on the film and less on her-not that spending any attention on her was a bad thing anyways.

“Ashton?” Her singsong voice called out to me in the darkness, the blue light of the film illuminating her face, she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Yes, princess?” I trailed my finger down her pale face, letting it go all the way down her neck and arm to rest on her hand at her side. She leaned into me, and placed a hand on my face, smiling with her eyes closed.

“Do you love me?” She whispered. I retracted my hand and looked away. I wanted to tell her I did. But I couldn’t lie to her. I ran a hand down my face.

In one quick motion I jumped up from the couch and turned on the lights and turned off the tv. I sighed and knelt in front of her on my knees, grasping her soft hands in between my own.

“Isla.” I began. I didn’t want to just tell her I didn’t love her. She would think I wanted to break up with her and that was the last thing I could do.

“I love you.” I said. “But I’m not in love with you.” Her face was expressionless. I tried to read her like she reads me but I couldn’t see anything in her gaze. I don’t even think she was looking at me, she was focused on the blank television screen above my head.

“But that’s how relationships are.” I tried to mend my mistake. So much for letting her down easy you fucking prick. “I don’t love you now, but I will surely learn in time.” She blinked a few times her vision refocusing and landing on me.

Her hand landed softly on my cheek and she cradled my head in her hand, smiling and shushing me like a newborn baby. I couldn’t tell if she was mad at me or not. Perhaps she was humoring me. Or maybe she was going to break up with me.

“It’s alright, Ashy.” I sighed in relief. She looked like she could cry but she swallowed deeply to push down that urge if it was there.

“I don’t love you but I know that I will.” I told her, my hand moving to cover hers as I leaned even more into her touch.

“Okay, Ashy.” I brought my fingers around her neck and pulled her in for a slow peck-which was a big deal for Isla. Isla wasn’t one for personal contact. She was allowed to touch me but everytime I would touch her she flinched.

She allowed me my one, tedious peck but her lips did not pucker against mine. Her lips were relaxed but she did not kiss me back. I don’t know why but I allowed her to be withdrawn and absent from our relationship. It was normal for me.

She never kissed me back.

“You will love me one day though, right?” Her fingers twitched around my throat as she held me close. I exhaled through my nose and looked up into her eyes. They shone with so much innocence and promise. Even if I wasn’t in love with her Isla was the type of person you just wanted to love.

“Of course, baby.” I said. She smiled and kissed my cheek, her fingers splaying across the back of my throat as she held me impossibly close. Isla used her arm strength to pull herself closer to my neck, breathing in deeply beside the crook of my neck before she pulled back with a smile.

“Have you been working out more?” She pressed the pad of her thumb over the green vein in my arm. Isla tells me she studies anatomy at university so I don’t know why she was so fascinated by the vein growing as the blood stopped flowing. “Your blood flows so nicely.” I squirm awkwardly under her scrutiny of my arm vein.

After a few seconds she removes her thumb. “You must have such a big heart for your blood to flow like that.” I wanted to tell her that the size of one’s heart had nothing to do with blood circulation and everything to do with your lifestyle but I didn’t because she was studying it, not me.

“That’s how I know you’ll love me someday, your heart is so big. Is there room for me in there?”

I press a kiss to her nose, ignoring the fact that she flinched slightly as my lips descended down to her face. Her anxiety must be coming back.

“There certainly is, darling.” She lets me stay there, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. She pulls away, checking her watch then shaking out her wrist.

“I have to go to a class.” Isla says, getting up and folding the blanket neatly before draping it over the back of the sofa. Something I realized about Isla right away was how neat and tidy she was. It was something I enjoyed because I was never picking up after her. She picked up after me most of the time.

“What are you guys working on right now?” I rolled onto my stomach and propped my head up with my hands, kicking my legs like a child.

“We, uh, just finish a project? Yeah that’s it.” I nodded slowly, a cocked eyebrow at her, watching her pack up a nearly empty backpack, shoving her coat in and struggling to zip the bag.

“It’s like nine thirty. Is it even open this late?” I ask her, wishing she would stay. I wanted her to spend the night at least under my roof. Every time it got past nine she tried her best to leave as soon as possible. It was as if spending the night in my house would give her the plague.

“I also live on campus.” She said quickly, her voice raising as she shoved her way past me roughly trying to get to the door. I really didn’t like this side of her. She was fie until she decided she needed to leave, then she was more like a younger bratty sister than a girlfriend.

“Why? My house isn’t haunted or anything? Why can’t you just trust me?” I throw my arms up in confusion and frustration as she pauses with a hand on the door handle as she sighs.

“Darling,” She doesn’t turn around. She wants me to go after her and tell her it’s okay and that I was being stupid. Part of me wanted her to twist the handle and just leave but I know she won’t now that I’ve gone and opened my mouth.

“Just go.” I say. I can feel her looking down. I feel her let go of the knob. The soft padding of her feet go across the floor until she’s lifted my head with her finger.

“I don’t want to leave when you’re upset.” She pulls a fake pout. Guilt tripping at its finest. I frown at her.

“You have class. You need your sleep, it’s late. Just go ahead. I’ll be fine. I want you to.” That was a lie. I still wanted her to stay but I also want her to show something other than nothing at all, even if it was anger towards me at my childishness.

“Thank you.” She squeals. She didn’t even notice I was still upset. I puckered up to her but the door slammed.

She didn’t even say goodbye she just left me like that.

Marcus

“Izzy? Babe, are you home?” I drop my shoes by the door and lazily toss my coat over the third hook on the coat hanger by the door. It successfully lands then falls in a heap on the floor. Isla would get it later, she was a neat freak like that. Nothing could be out of place. Even if she didn’t pick up the leather material, the maid would get it. I wasn’t worried.

I chuckled lowly, Isla liked to play the predator and prey games. It’s rare for her to just be waiting for me at the door to kiss me when I come home. She often hides around the house and waits for me to find her. I find it exhausting but exhilarating. All day all I could think of was how I wanted so desperately to come home and have her rub my feet and cuddle with me but if she wanted to play these little games I would let her.

I tiptoed across the marble floor and tried to keep my laughing to myself. I didn’t want her to know I was coming for her. I walked past the office and through the kitchen. She never hid too far from the front door and it was just plain fun to catch her.

Just as I was about to call her name again I spot her sitting in the living room, on a lounger in front of the fire reading. The room is dark, the only light on is a sign that says “stay wild”. I smile as I creep up behind her, reaching for her book.

She seems so at peace I almost don’t want to mess with her, but it is oh so fun to do so. I can’t help myself. I smile and cover her eyes with my hands. She tenses but her cheeks lift it what can only be a grin.

In one swipe I’ve taken her book from her and begun to place kisses on her neck. I remove my hands as she squirms and giggles, reaching for her book before I pull it away just in time. I juggle the object between my hands, her practically climbing over me like a jungle gym to get it back. “Marcusssss.” She hisses, a teasing smile playing at her lips.

“It was getting good.” I dog ear her page causing her to frown. She has a thing for books. She seems almost offended at the sight of a folded page or broken spine. I throw myself over the edge of the lounger, pulling her into my lap. I continue my assault of kisses, raising an eyebrow and daring her to kiss me back. She does not.

“Babe, I’ve only just got home. Aren’t you going to greet me?” She pulled my face to hers and kissed me with an open and inviting mouth. She wanted me to kiss her back with force and I did. I grabbed her jaw and pulled her to me, ignoring her whines and shoves. She always responded to my touch eventually, even if it took some coaxing. It was the one thing she never failed to do and it always brought a smile to my face.

“Upstairs, yeah?” I broke the kiss. She shook her head and grabbed her book from the floor. She dusted it off and moved to the very edge of the couch to continue reading. I try to move closer but she throws her legs on the couch longways so there’s a minimum of four cushions in between us. I huff. I liked doing things with Isla, I did. But sometimes she could be so damn boring.

She goes from being the prey and hiding for me to find her to wanting to be left alone. It’s like she was against sex. She never wanted me to be near her in anyway. I always had to convince her to talk to me. A man has needs and it’s like she doesn’t understand that.

“I’m not in the mood today.” It was just like every other day. She didn’t want any part of it until I was practically forcing her when times got too hard to do anything else. Even then she could resist.

“There are women in the office that would kill to be in your shoes, do you know that? Some women don’t have men who spoil them and give them whatever they want. Some women have to actually work for things in life. I can’t believe you can resist my body either Izzy, really. Do you know how many women hit on me daily that I have to turn down?” She rolls her eyes and licks her finger, using it to turn the page. I had to change my tactics to get her attention.

I let my eye’s soften and I gently stroke her foot, I smile at her but she doesn’t even spare me a glance. She turns yet another page.

“What are you reading?” I pushed her feet away from mine and tried getting a peek at her novel. “It’s been a long day, all I want to do is spend time with you and relax.” In the bedroom that is.

“It’s a romance you wouldn’t like it.” She said, turning her body away from mine. It hurt me that she didn’t seem all too interested in spending time with me but I know she’s also had a long day. I kiss her hand and let it fall to her side.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask her. She groans and tugs at my sleeve before I have the chance to leave.

“Don’t make Megan do it.” She begs. I look at her quizzically. Megan was our maid, it was her job to do things like that for us but for some reason every time I brought it up Isla said no like we were being terrible to her.

“Honey, it’s her job.” I say, confused. Isla looks at me for a second, no words, just staring. Then she looks back at her book and flips the page.

“Do what you want, I just feel bad for her.” I open my mouth to say something but she slams her book shut and makes a move for upstairs. I was sick of dealing with her fits after a long days work so I conceded and let her have her way even though there was no need for this argument.

“I’ll make dinner.” I say. “Just tell me what you want.” She mutters under her breath so lowly I can’t even understand her. “Pardon?” I ask, coming after her up the stairs.

“I’m not hungry.” She screams. “Leave me alone.” I threw my hands up in frustration. Why did she always have to be so difficult? I let her have her way and still she was not satisfied.

I wanted pasta and god dammit I was going to make pasta. I wanted her to know I was mad. I angrily threw open the cabinet and slammed the pot on the stove. I angrily dumped water in the pot and growled and loudly said hurtful things I didn’t mean.

She was going to apologize, not me. I wasn’t going to be wrong this time. I’m always wrong, this was something I wasn’t going to let go as easily. She’s angry I’m employing someone? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

“You’re being ridiculous, sweetheart.” I call up to her, pulling at my shirt sleeve so it lined up with my jacket, smoothing the collar. I loved Isla, I was pretty sure I did. I loved how her face lit up with her Louboutin highlighter, and how she walked in those Chanel heels I bought her three days ago. I liked to spoil her.

I’m pretty sure she loved it too.

She loved the chase, this one. Always running off to cry so I would eventually have to chase after her and cuddle, making whatever I did wrong up to her with eskimo kisses and pieces of high end affection.

“Make dinner.” I ordered the girl I knew was lurking in the shadows waiting for my command. “Use this or scratch it. Put something in the oven and leave it in a bit too long and bring it out and say I forgot to take it out. I don’t give a damn. Make it sloppy.” She nodded and rushed over to tend to the dinner I no longer cared if we ate or not.

I wasn’t going to make dinner. Isla was being ridiculous. I paid the damn girl so she could do my work for me, not because I wanted to hand out my money for free. If I wanted to do that I’d donate to charity.

“Baby, I’m coming for you, ready or not.” The house was quiet, a creak of the door closing was heard from her bedroom suite and I cracked a smile, removing my jacket. “Here I come.”

Although Isla loved the chase she didn’t make it very hard to find her, which was something I enjoyed. I turned up the steps to see her sitting in a ball at the top of the stairs.
“Are you done?” She turned, childishly. “Come eat dinner with me.” I held my hand down to her. “I’m making something in the oven.” This seemed to please her because she slowly allowed me to pull her up. “You’ve wrinkled your dress.” I frowned.

“It’s fine.” She smoothed it out lightly, running her hands down her pretty thighs and effectively driving me buck wild.

“I can always buy you another.” I say, trying to nibble on her ear. She pushes me away with a strangled whine. She’s never in the mood to be with me physically, says she’s not ready but I highly doubt that she doesn’t want to be with me in that way.

“No, I have enough dresses. In fact, I only have dresses.” I hum in response, wrapping my arm around her waist to properly escort her down stairs like a gentleman. I loved having her in only dresses. A man’s job is to work so his woman doesn’t have to and to spoil her rotten. Isla was more than arm candy for me but she sure was a pretty little thing.

“Just a thought.” I shrug. I stroked her cheek lightly with the side of my finger, ignoring her flinch at the contact. “You look so pretty in the things I buy you, my pretty Izzy.” I kissed the corner of her mouth.

“What are you making?” She tried to pull away from me but I latched my arm around her, not allowing her to leave me.

“Surprise.” I tell her. I close my eyes and lean down to kiss the breasts that puff so sexily from her dress. She whines again.

“Marcus, please. I’m not ready.” I almost don’t care. I want to have her in the way only I can have her. I love her but I lust after her so much it’s insane. I buy her these things but I would rather see them about the floor then on her, even if she looks delicious in them.

“When will you be ready, kitten?” She plays with my cuff links and doesn’t make eye contact when she shrugs. “No rush.” I say. Just let me soak up cold water like my last breath for the rest of my life. I kiss the top of her head and slowly remove her hand from my arm before I lose control.

Isla

Papa was built, no doubt about it. I was always surprised when he was able to pick me up because I was so heavily built-heavy heavy, a different distribution of weight and muscle mass than Papa.

“What do you think, baby girl?” He asked, bouncing me up and down on his shoulders. I giggled happily, covering my mouth with my hand.

“What do I think about what?” My words were shaky as he continued to jostle me around as if I were a small stuffed teddy he was taking around the block.

“What do you Ian would like more? The red one or the blue one?” I pretended to think. Ian thought red was the nasty twin to the color pink. He preferred blue every day of the week. I considered telling him about how close purple and blue were but I let him have this one.

“Papa, you know he likes blue.” I answered, making a grab for the blue monkey. Papa held my arm down and quieted me, picked up the monkey for himself, then kept walking.

“Princess, what do you want?” He asks me, pocketing the animal. I didn’t want anything. “Name it and it’s yours.”

“Can I have a pack of worms?” He smiled up at me.

“It’s risky...” He began. I prepared myself for a resounding no. He transferred me from his shoulders to his hips and poked my nose with his finger. “But I’ll risk it for you.” I smiled brightly.

I grabbed his hand tightly and gave it a squeeze in a thank you of sorts.

“Come on.” I jumped down and pulled him with me to the check out. “Hurry!” He laughed and put a hand on his hat, holding it on his head as he tried to stop us at my fast pace. He was strong, but not strong enough to stop a pudgy child from getting her sweet fill.

“Can I get them, Papa?” I brought him to an unattended cash register and ducked beneath the line. He nodded and looked around. I took the package and shoved it up my shirt, smiling proudly.

“Let’s go.” We walk forward, walking around the other shoppers with their overfilled carts and hope for the best. I stand beside a lady who has already began to indulge in a pack of chips she must have purchased. Papa follows an elderly lady with one can of liver in her scooter basket.

We walk through the doors separately and meet around the corner like we always do, it’s different this time. There’s a man in a blue uniform with his arms crossed waiting for us.

“Your mama’s gonna have a fit.” Papa tells me, ushering me behind him.

• • •

I sat on the metal bench with my head down, swinging my legs to and fro humming the chorus of a song I’d heard on the radio in Papa’s car-mama didn’t like it when I listened to that particular station. A nice lady waited with me and asked me all sorts of questions like where I was yesterday and where my Papa worked. I guess I never really thought about Papa’s job.

“How old are you?” I ask the lady. She clears her throat but doesn’t answer. “I’m sorry.” I click my toes, then my heels. “My mama says I’m not s’pose to ask people how old they are.” She laughs but says nothing.

“Do you know why your daddy’s here?” The woman asks. I eye her, she isn’t writing anything down like she was before.

“No.” I say. I fall into a short game of sticks on my fingers with myself.

One to one. Tap.

Two to one. Tap

Two to three. Tap.

Game over, right hand takes all.

I quickly realize there is no point to this game, I always know my next move and how to avoid it, and there are really no other ways of doing it, unless I start over and begin with my other hand.

“When can my dad go home?” I ask her. She doesn’t even flinch with my words. I try making up my own game that I can play by myself but I don’t have any good ideas. So I wait.

“Your mom will be here in a minute.” The woman says, taking my hand and leading me to a door. She took long strides and I was practically jogging to keep up.

“Mama will be mad.” I pout. Mama is always mad at Papa. Sometimes I think she tries to get into fights with him. She doesn’t even let him explain she just goes yelling at him again.

Sure enough, when we reach the entrance there’s mama, arms crossed and toe tapping. Her hair is wet and she wears a robe over what I recognize to be her pajama pants. It’s past seven and she must have been ready for bed. She smells of cigarettes and soap. When she sees me she moves to grab my hand with her red press-ons but the uniformed woman pulls me back so she can’t touch me.

“June Blackwood?” Mama nodded and reached for my hand again, but again she was denied by the woman, who pulled me back even further. Mama’s hand fell to her side in a clenched fist and her nostrils flared. I could already see her anger when I stepped into the room with her but this was just fueling her anger. “I need some ID before you can take her home. I also need you to answer some questions about your husband.”

Mama’s silence scared me. It scared me so bad that I tried to pull away from the officer to run down the hall and far away from mama and the explosion I know was coming the second she took me home. I think the guard mistook my fear for excitement at seeing mama.

“What do you need to know? He’s a criminal, you’ve got him. I’m tired now and all I want to do is take my daughter home, it’s past her bedtime.” She threw her ID at the woman who scanned it over and immediately released my hand and gave me a gentle push towards mama.

Mama’s hand squeezed mine with force. She was fuming, I could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears and she hadn’t even started yelling at me yet. “Isla, are you tired? Want to go to bed?” I nodded shyly.

“What about Papa?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want mama to get more angry than she was but I loved Papa and I worried and even though mama was always mad at him I knew part of her was worried too. She sighed and pulled sunglasses out of her robe pocket and put them on. “Why are you wearing sunglasses Mama, the sun isn’t even out.”

“Eye bags, baby girl.” She replied, ducking her head down as she passed the gates. She pushed me in front of her and she let her hair fall in front of the side of her face.

“So, are we getting Papa tonight?” She looked deep in thought but she unlocked the car and shook her head.

“Maybe tomorrow. Your Papa’s been bad and he needs to learn a lesson.” She opened the door for me and I crawled over the seat to the other side of the car. The left door was held on by a duct tape job and mama said Ian and I shouldn’t use that door because it wouldn’t shut and mama didn’t feel like fixing the tape every time we needed to get in the car.

Mama opened the center console and pulled out a lone cigarette-she buys packs in groups of ten and dumps five into her console and the other five in different drawers around the house-then she produces a lighter with floral pink flowers. She lit the cigarette, lazily tossing the lighter into the seat beside her, later when she went to bed she would forget where she put it and throw a fit so I reached over when she looked the other way and put it in my pocket to put by the couch-where she would fall asleep after a few rounds of pointless beers.

“Roll down your window.” She demands, rolling hers down as well. She puts the stick between her lips and blows a puff of smoke out of the window, the wind carrying it away. “Don’t want it to hurt your lungs too.”

I tried-on many occasions-to understand her obsession with smoking. She never spoke highly of having a habit but she told me she was in too deep and there was nothing stopping could do for her now. I don’t know how to help her anymore, so I just do as she says. Mama takes another hit.

“Why is Papa in jail?” I ask. She coughs violently and waves her hand in front of her face. I regret asking as she mutters curse words under her breath. “’Is Ian asleep yet?” I change the subject and hope she’ll forget I even said anything. She pulls into our street and works to regulate her breathing before he answers.

“Yeah, don’t go in and be loud and wake him up, took me fifty minutes to get him to stop wailing” Our house is one of the smallest in the neighborhood. We have dead grass, no flowers, and an abundance of weeds.

“He cries a lot” I observed. She nodded, pulling into our driveway.

“He’s young. You did too. Only Papa could fix you, you hated when I came for you.” She laughs, deep in her memories. I like when mama smiles. It’s so rare but so beautiful. She parks and unlocks the door.

I open the door and leave but when she makes no move to get out I ask her, “Are you coming?”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to go get Papa from the station, the back door is unlocked, let yourself in and get in your jammies.” I do just that.