Alessandra Torre - End of the Innocence

He looked at me, my gaze holding despite the shake in my heart, the contact horrific as I watched a piece of the man I once loved die in his eyes. Then he dipped his head, eyes avoiding mine, saving me from seeing any more pain. He nodded, his head down, eyes trained to the ground, foot falling off the railing and landing with a quiet thud onto the porch. “Okay Jules. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I whispered, hoping—as the words fled my mouth—that he hadn’t heard them. Worried that they reopened some window to the room I had just locked close. Then I leaned against the porch and crossed my arms, watching him walk inside. The moment the door closed behind him, tears leaked, running down my cheeks with wild abandon. I hated this shit. Hated dealing with him, hated the resurgence of feelings and emotions for a man no longer in my life. This was bullshit, this ache of hurt, not for me, but for him. And the worst thing was that my own ego was creating this tidal wave of pain. I was not that great. He could—and would—do better. Someone who appreciated him. Someone who loved him in the all-consuming way that I loved Brad. I contained the heaves of my chest, guilt wracking my body in silent sobs. I wiped my face, blinking rapidly and took a few deep breaths, willing the ache in my heart to dissolve.

♦♦♦

Luke, as expected, behaved. It took him almost fifteen minutes to emerge. Fifteen minutes when I went through a roller coaster of emotions and fought going inside to see if he was ransacking my room. He finally emerged, a duffel bag in hand. Evidence of my tears gone, I walked him to the driveway, to his faded red truck, every dent and scrape on it familiar to me. We had fucked in the bed of it, the hard metal floor painful to my knees. We’d spent another night inside of it, on a road trip to his parents’, both of us too broke for a hotel, the cab colder the later the night had gotten. I stared at the vehicle and tried to will the memories from my mind.

Luke heaved his bag, his muscles easily tossing the black duffel into the bed. Then he turned back to me, holding out his hand.

I stared at it blankly, recognizing that he wasn’t reaching for my hand, but waiting for some item. Right. Hotel money. I held back a comment and reached into my pocket, pulling out some cash and putting it in his palm.

“So who was that?” he asked suddenly. “The guy who dropped you off.”

I met his eyes, willing my voice to be casual, steady. “Someone I’m dating.”

He frowned as hurt quickly joined the complicated party of sadness and regret in his eyes. “Wow. That didn’t take you long, Jules.” He shot me a wry, sarcastic smile. “Went after money, huh? Shocker.”

I didn’t respond, watching as he climbed in the truck and slammed the door. He stared into my eyes through the windshield, and we stayed like that for a minute; I was unable to move. Then he shook his head, and his truck roared to life.

Eighteen months. One small diamond.

A life path extinguished.

I stood in the empty driveway for a moment, watching the taillights of his truck as it peeled out and down my parents’ street. It was done. I instinctively knew that he wasn’t coming back, that—while he might not disappear completely—he realized that I would not take him back.

I turned to the house, noting the absence of lights and glanced at my watch. 12:53 a.m. My parents hadn’t waited up, not a huge surprise given the hour. I called Brad.

“Hey babe.” His confident voice sent calming strength through me.

“Hey. Luke just left. How far away are you?”

“A few blocks. You finished quicker than I expected; I haven’t gotten us a room yet.”

“That’s okay. Come pick me up. I’m going to leave my parents a note and make sure the doors are locked, then I’ll be out front.”

“I’ll be there.”

There was no doubt Mom would be hurt when she found out I was staying at a hotel, but I’d have to face that battle in the morning. I jotted down a quick note, stated I’d be by around nine, then checked the locks, and headed outside to Brad’s car.

The morning brought with it the hum of an air conditioner, scratchy sheets, and the delicious feeling of having Brad’s warm body spooned tightly behind me. I ran my fingers lightly down his forearm before gripping it and tightening it around my body. He groaned behind me, burrowing his face into my neck, his stubble tickling me. He flexed against me, his hard cock ever present against my ass. I opened my eyes, taking in the yellow wallpaper, small television, and cheap coffee pot. I grinned. Brad had taken serious issue with our accommodations, unable to believe that my small hometown didn’t have at least a three-star hotel. Sex had been comical—the bed sagging pitifully beneath our weight, creaking and rattling with every thrust. We had finally taken the act to the wall—his strong arms holding me easily as he slid in and out until we were both satisfied. My eyes passed over the plastic clock, widening as they read its red digits. “Shit, Brad, we have to go.” I wiggled out of his arms, shooting across the worn carpet and flipping on the bathroom light. Glancing over my shoulder at his still body, I increased my tone. “Brad!” Leaning over the sink, I turned on the water.

♥♥♥

My mother was visible through the front window, her eyes scanning, processing, and reigning hell before we even opened our doors and got out. Any feisty part of my personality had undoubtedly been a product of her genes. I gripped Brad’s hand and whispered premature apologies as we climbed the front steps. The door opened, and there she stood.

My mother was beautiful; there was no disputing that. Slim and tall, she had curves where it counted, wrinkles noticeably absent despite her hours in the sun, and bone structure that models would die for. Her eyes skipped right over me and fixated on Brad. “Julia, who is this?”

Here goes nothing. “Mom, this is Brad. Brad, this is my mother,” I dutifully recited, squeezing past her and hugging my father, who waited patiently inside. He gripped me tightly, pressing a kiss to my cheek before surveying me approvingly.

“You look good, sweetie. It’s nice to have you home.” My father, thinning hair carefully combed into place, wearing a sweater from the seventies paired with pressed gray slacks, shook Brad’s hand with a friendly smile.

Mother, suddenly remembering her manners, ushered us into the living room, where we sat—me perched nervously on an ottoman, Brad relaxing easily into the couch. We had a moment of peaceful silence before she opened her mouth and flames came out.

“Julia, what’s going on? I wake up this morning to a note from you—you stayed godknowswhere last night—and then you show up with—no offense—a complete stranger! And Luke is nowhere to be found, his truck gone when I woke up this morning!”

“Debra, calm down.” My father interrupted her, reaching over and patting her arm—an action that earned him a glare of Arctic proportions. “Julia just got here. Let her relax for a bit.”

“I’m not calming down until I know what in God’s name is going on!” She balled her hands into fists and turned to me, eyebrows raised.

I took a deep breath and stood. “Mom. As I said on the phone—I broke up with Luke over two months ago. He shouldn’t have been here; he was trying to track me down because I wouldn’t return any of his calls. I spoke to him last night and told him to leave, which is why he isn’t here this morning. He shouldn’t be back again, so please don’t respond if he calls you.”

My last sentence was too much for my mother, whose mouth opened and closed like a large mouth bass. “Don’t respond? Julia, what has gotten into you? You can’t break up with Luke—the boy is in love with you!”

“That’s all well and good, but I didn’t want to marry him, Mom. And I would hope that you, as a supportive mother, would stand by me in this decision.” That shut her up, and she closed her eyes briefly, clasping her hands in an effort to remain composed.

Then Brad spoke, and the shit-storm hit a whole new level. “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I apologize for the—”

“I’m sorry, but who the hell are you, and why are you here?” My mother stood, crossing her arms and staring stonily at Brad, intent on steamrolling him into submission. She had no idea who she was up against.

Brad had the nerve to chuckle. “I, Mrs. Campbell, am Julia’s fiancé.”

My mother gaped, glared at me, glared at Brad, and then stepped forward and grabbed my hand. The ring, its size and brilliance, momentarily stunned her, and I saw a wave of emotions cross her face. I knew what she was thinking: my youth, Brad’s age, Luke’s absence, her impressionable little daughter standing before her. I gently pulled my hand back before her thought process moved too much further along.

My father stood, joining the party and clapped his hands together. “Well. Now that that’s all settled, how about we move to the kitchen for breakfast?”

My mother hadn’t planned on an uninvited breakfast guest; she had expected me, alone, listening to her logical persuasion until Luke returned to his proper place at the table. His cereal, Coco Crisp, stared at me from above the fridge, an adolescent irritation to my already frayed nerves.

Mother scurried, her sneakered feet moving around the kitchen at a frantic pace, the fridge, cupboard, pantry, and then fridge again, all becoming victims to her furious search for something to serve to this man—this much-too-old man who was professing ownership of her daughter. I could feel her nerves; they matched pace with my stress, competing for superiority in the small room. I worriedly met Brad’s eyes across the table.

He had sat at the head, following the directive of my mother, but I could feel her disorientation with his seat, a place she normally took. He was, as always, calm and relaxed, and I twisted a napkin under the table as I listened to my father speak with him.

“... it’s a Chevy. An Impala. I’ve been working on it for a few years now, but just recently begun to dedicate proper time to it. Luke ...” my father paused, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “Luke’s been helping me these last few days, which is the most I’ve done to it in a while.” He coughed and took a sip of coffee.

My mother approached the table at a sudden pace, setting a plate of cold bagels and assorted cream cheeses in front of us. “I’m sorry for not being better prepared; I normally try to keep appropriate food on hand for guests ...” She grimaced, her anguish equally divided over the food choices and the stranger before her, and sat down next to me with a heavy sigh.

“This is wonderful, Mrs. Campbell. He grinned at her, that devastating, gorgeous grin that diminished his fierce features and instantly endeared anyone to his cause. I watched my mother, saw the surprise on her face, and she glanced down quickly, taking a sip of coffee with a shaky hand.

“Mr. De Luca, how long have you been seeing Julia?”

His hand reached out, covering mine, and he gave me a small smile before turning to her. “Two months, give or take. We met through work. My firm had the pleasure of having Julia as an intern.”

The emotions showed clearly on her face as the words flitted through her mind. Two months. My firm. Attorney. “I see. Julia ... reports to you?”

He laughed. “No. I work in family law. Julia was the intern for our corporate law department. We met in passing one day.”

Family law. My mother’s eyes shuttered slightly at that sentence, and I grinned despite myself. I knew what she was envisioning, bedraggled lawyers carrying worn briefcases to and from court, fighting back child-support cases for broke, deadbeat dads. I was grateful for the table hiding my hands, my ring hidden.

“Two months?” My father’s voice came out confused. “Why the rush to get engaged?”

My mother suddenly gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and looking at me in accusation. “Julia!”

I laughed out loud, knowing what she was thinking, the laugh bubbling out of me and spilling, uncontrollably, onto the table. “God, Mom, I’m not pregnant.” Her face watched me suspiciously, traveling from my face to my stomach and then back to my smile. “I swear.” I looked at my dad, at his pale face. “Dad, I’m not. We’re not getting married until after I graduate in August. We’ll be engaged for a year.”