Defiance (New Adult Romance) (Isaac & Maya) (23 page)

“Sorry about that,” I say. Fuck, am I seriously blushing right now?

“It’s okay.” He flops on the bed and flicks on the television. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good.”

And that’s the end of it. I’m so glad we drove because it would have been super awkward if he hated me the entire trip. I can’t believe I have to wear these fucking contacts non-stop for three more days. I’ve never wanted to have a normal fucking eye color more in my life.

Garrett’s in much better spirits on the way to his mother’s house, pulling Maya’s hair, teasing her, doing all the normal things that a little brother would do on a long car ride with his sister. But she’s definitely isn’t in the mood, growing more and more nervous the closer we get, finally turning around and snapping at him to leave her alone. There was nothing playful about it and we spend the last hour in silence.

I can’t believe I’m at the right house when we get there, but I’m the only one surprised to see it. How can somebody live here? The place is basically falling down. I recognize her mother before we get out of the car, but I’m not prepared at all when I’m staring at a woman with a disturbingly empty version of my favorite eyes. Glory was right. My stomach churns as I immediately realize how much of a mistake it was to come here.

“Hi, Mike,” she squeals, shaking my hand. “Maya’s told me so much about you.”

31

Maya

“Nice to meet you, Darlene,” Isaac says to my mother.

I have
n’t said a frigging word about him! You didn’t even know he existed until three days ago!
How the hell could I have been so stupid and let Garrett push me into coming down here?

After the obligatory meaningless hugs, I spot my two little brothers staring at each other uncomfortably. I reluctantly step away and leave Isaac, oh wait no,
Mike
, alone with Mom as they exchange pleasantries and small talk about the long ride down there. I feel guilty, but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s well-rehearsed and great at coming up with bullshit on the fly.

“Hi,” Garrett says as he approaches our youngest brother cautiously. “Do you remember me?”

“No,” he replies, his attention fixed on the toy car he’s driving along the porch railing.

“Hey Kurt,” I say. “You got so big. You’re in first grade now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You remember me a little bit, don’t you? I came down when Memaw was sick.”

“You’re my rich sister Maya, right?”

“Yes she is.” I hear the creaking of the screen door opening and look up to see my sister Laurel standing there, deliberately not making eye contact with me.

“Hi Laurel,” Garrett says excitedly, running up the stairs to hug her.

“Hey… how are you?” she coos, sounding as fake as my mother. After a few lines of catching up with our brother, her eyes lock onto Isaac. “And this must be the new boyfriend.”

You don’t have a chance with him, bitch
. I know it’s true, but my hands still start to sweat and my mouth goes dry as she steps into the yard. I’ll always look like an awkward little kid standing next to my sister. She’s tall, with perfect teeth and wonderfully straight and soft strawberry hair. Isaac introduces his fictitious self, his body stiffening as she hugs him instead of shaking his outstretched hand. I stare down at the grass and wonder if he’s enjoying the sensation of her full breasts pressing into his chest. He’ll never feel that with me.

Garrett’s old enough now to see how inappropriate our mother’s eldest can be around men, watching her with confused eyes as she links her arm with my boyfriend’s and leads him toward the house. I warned them both about this, but they didn’t believe me. This is the part when my mother and sister completely forget I exist to dote on the man that I’ve unsuspectingly led into their lair. It’s normal enough to ask someone if they’re tired or hungry or thirsty, I guess, but not the way they do it. At least Laurel stops herself from asking Isaac if he’d like a blowjob before we go, too, though she doesn’t have to say it out loud. It’s in her eyes, in the way she laughs too hard.

The firstborn son rushes inside behind them to claim his fair share of attention. I should follow, but what do I say? I can’t stop them, it will look rude. We have to leave for the service in an hour, it will be over soon enough.

It’s official. All of my mother’s children inherited her eyes. “You got your daddy’s bright red hair, Kurt,” I murmur. “Is he around?”

“He left us,” my brother says with a blank face.

Great. I look around the yard and take a deep breath. At least it’s lush and green here, the earthy smell instantly reminding me of the more pleasant parts of my early childhood. Thankfully, I’ve never lived in this house, so it’s not haunted for me like my uncle’s was the last time I came down for a visit.

Mom’s roof is sagging as much as the floor and now she’s probably paying the mortgage alone. I wonder how long it’s been like that. She didn’t even tell me, maybe I should give her a little more credit. It has to be hard to be all by yourself, even though she’ll be better off if her bastard husband never comes back.

Steeling myself, I walk inside and see Isaac sitting at the table, reluctantly nibbling at a rice crispy square. Garrett’s right next to him, chatting up my sister who probably wishes she had my boyfriend all to herself. At least we both didn’t abandon him when the vultures circled. I glance over at Isaac and mouth the word ‘sorry’, but he just grins at me. If he’s uncomfortable, it sure doesn’t show, but it’s hard to tell now. This brown eyes thing doesn’t work for me at all. I can’t read him as well.

The outside of my mother’s house is run down, but the inside is orderly and spotless as always. That’s probably where I inherited my neat freak tendencies, though I have no idea how my biological father feels about domestic cleanliness. I was wrong about this place not being haunted. It’s not the same building, but it’s still the same home.

I get a little nauseous
when I walk over to the giant hutch that dominates the entire living room. Apparently it’s an heirloom, though I don’t think it’s very old. The important part was that all my aunts wanted it when my great grandmother died, but Mom was the one that got it because she had a nice house to put it in. My real father’s house. I vaguely recall standing next to it with my little hand resting on the cherry stained wood while my parents screamed at each other. There was always so much yelling, that’s all I really remember.

I was to
o little to see into the glass paneled cabinets on top back then so I’m not sure if the contents have changed, but I was eye level with the pictures on the flat surface that now comes to my waist. Some of the photos are the same, old pictures of my mother with her sisters and brothers, an ornately framed faded black and white shot of my great grandparents on their wedding day. There are newer pictures mixed in with the old ones now, and a lot of them are of me and Garrett. Is there seriously only one photo of Laurel here, and I’m in it? No wonder my sister hates me so much.

My eyes start to water as I look around the room. Each little trinket they lock onto is connected with a memory for me, and very few of them are good. I remember Laurel getting in so much trouble for breaking a little glass cat that goes with these other two. I ran into her legs while she was holding it, but my mother didn’t give a shit, it was still her fault for touching things she wasn’t supposed to touch. I thought Mom smashed this vase when my father left her, I know she did, a hidden shard cut my foot a few weeks later. She must have bought a replacement.

Most of this stuff was in storage for years when we lived with my uncle. I saw a past due bill on his kitchen table one night when they were screaming at each other over money. He was furious because her daughters were skinnier than bean poles and she still managed to come up with enough money to pay for a pile of shit that’s rotting away in another town. It was his fault because he wouldn’t let her put it in his garage, but he couldn’t. He still fixed cars in there on the side.

This little porcelain doll. I can’t stop looking at it, but I don’t know why. I can see her painted eyes watching me in the background of so many memories, I always liked the way her auburn hair caught the sun. I pick it up and stare at the frayed hem of her dress and her tiny mangled left shoe. I was playing with it when I wasn’t supposed to and I got in trouble. Laurel did too, of course, for not watching me, but I was too little to feel guilty about it. Our dog. I was using it as a toy for our little Chihuahua. Cutie. That was her name. Holy shit, how could I have forgotten about her? It was Dad’s dog, he got it as a gift from his sister and he took her with when he left even though he really didn’t want her. I cried for hours. We wouldn’t have been able to take care of her anyway and my Uncle Dean hates little dogs. Cutie. That’s the nickname Luke gave me.

I slam the little doll back on the side table as my mother and sister start laughing because Isaac got up to put his own glass in the sink. Laurel makes a jab about me not taking care of him well enough as I rush out the door to see my youngest brother, who only recognizes me from the disproportionate number of pictures on my mother’s shrine, rolling around in the grass with his own dog. I wonder if his dad will take it with when he comes home to get the final load of his stuff like mine did. Kurt’s wearing his good clothes. He’s gonna get in trouble.

I run over to stop him, pulling him to his feet by his arm as he stares at me with wide eyes. I might be his sister, but he’s not used to me touching him.

“What were you thinking?” I chastise him, brushing his knees off. “You’re in church clothes.”

“I forgot.”

There’s a small grass stain on the bottom of his perfectly ironed pale blue shirt, but if it stays tucked in, she won’t notice it until tonight when she undresses him. “I won’t tell her.”

“Too late,” he whispers.

I follow my brother’s gaze to the porch and see my entire family filing out of the house. Mom came out first, and Kurt squeezes my hand as we both watch her eyes harden, the fake smile she always wears for everyone else falling off her face. I’ve seen this anger in her eyes so many times and since she’s standing up higher than we are, they’re boring into me from the same angle they did when I was little. She wants to yell at my brother, but she won’t because Isaac is standing next to her, flanked by my sister who keeps touching his shoulder.

His false eyes look down at me with concern and I can tell by the expression on his face that I need to wipe the horror off mine before it embarrasses my mother. I swallow it down until I feel a pinch in my belly and my eyes stop stinging as I squeeze the little hand I’m holding. I know exactly what he’s in for when I let it go.

“Garrett, drive with me,” Laurel pleads. “We need to catch up, I hardly ever see you.” He’s the rich man that she really needs to win over because he’ll always be her brother. Garrett doesn’t understand that yet and I hope he never does.

“Okay,” he concedes, but he keeps glancing over at me as I stand in the grass with Kurt, frozen. It’s instinctual not to move when you don’t want to be seen, even when you know that you’ve already been spotted.

“Come here, Kurt,” my mother calls out sweetly. “Let’s wipe your face and get you cleaned up before we go.”

Walking toward her slowly, Kurt doesn’t let my hand go until both our arms are outstretched. He turns around and stares at me, so I give him a reassuring smile even though something inside me wants to scream and tell him to run. Isaac walks across the yard, patting my little brother on the head as they pass and taking my hand that’s still reaching out. My ever attentive boyfriend stoops down to look directly at me though eyes I don’t recognize, his fingers tickling my jaw. With a quick peck to my forehead, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the car, opening my door. He would have carried me if he could and I would have let him.

“Maya, are you—”

“I’m fine.”

32

Isaac

Maya is certainly not fine. Her arms are crossed and she’s staring straight ahead as we drive to the funeral home. I forgot how unnerving it is to see her face so blank. She used to look like this all the time when I was training her, especially after the playroom.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“I don’t have time to talk about my stupid feelings right now, Isaac,” she whispers, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Bile rises in my throat. Holy shit, what have I fucking done? She said she never wanted to see her mother again and I didn’t listen to her. I should have found a way to trick her into visiting Garrett before this happened and she got guilt tripped into coming here.
Fuck!

But we’re here and there’s nothing I can do about it. And honestly, as much as it pains me to look at her face right now, I just learned more about the inner workings of Maya’s brain in an hour than she ever could have told me in a lifetime and I’m grateful for the opportunity.

She’s still blank when we walk into the wake, standing dutifully with the family she barely knows, though I suspect that she wants to stay between her mom and her youngest brother. Laurel, who literally did not say a single word directly to her sister, glances around to make sure no one is looking and licks her lips at me. Seriously?

I don’t do that well at funerals. They’re often a trigger for me anyway, but at this one the corpse looks way too much like Maya. Does everyone in this family have the same fucking eyes? It’s freaking me out. Tanya’s are closed of course, but there’s a picture of her right beside the casket and unlike Maya’s mother and sister, her aunt’s eyes sparkle brightly just like hers do.  Tanya also has Maya’s small frame and massive hair. I guess inheritance works the other way, but it doesn’t matter. All I know is that I’m face to corpse with a woman who looks achingly familiar and is far too young to by laying in this coffin as my robotic girlfriend stands beside it and it’s suddenly extremely fucking hard to breathe.

Maya is pretty much ignoring me anyway to keep her shit together, so I bolt out of the back of the funeral home for some air, and unfortunately, some Xanax. Holy shit, I did not expect that at all. When I get back inside, Tanya doesn’t look half as much like Maya as she did a few moments before, which probably means I was literally fucking hallucinating. That can’t be good. Only eight short hours to go.

I spend most of it watching over the best thing that ever happened to me from the back of the room.
Darlene greets almost every single mourner by sobbing and throwing her arms around them. Tanya actually has a daughter of her own, but few people console her because Maya’s mother
is so distraught. She clutches a tissue the entire time, dabbing her eyes and her nose frequently, but she doesn’t need to replace it for hours because she isn’t actually crying. She makes the faces and the noise, but there aren’t any tears.

I didn’t realize that people actually got into arguments at funerals. Not just hushed, petty disagreements, but full on screaming fights that would definitely turn to blows under less somber and formal circumstances. Maya’s uncles are quite surly looking with crazy fucking eyes, but at least they don’t look like hers. The only city slicker that’s more intimidated by them than me is Garrett, who was obviously unprepared for this circus. This family takes dysfunctional to a whole new level. I have to get Rookie the hell out of here.

But she’s glued to her mother and she barely lets Kurt’s hand go for the entire day. Everybody keeps calling her Moriah, the name she was born with, and even though she hates it no one corrects a single one of them. She’s literally a different person here. The only time they break away from the receiving line is to introduce someone to me because Darlene not so subtly mentions that I kicked in five grand for the funeral. Aren’t I a wonderful man?

Garrett can’t handle the constant stream of relatives and family friends after a few hours, so he starts sticking with me. I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider in your own family. It sucks, but there’s not a lot you can do to take someone’s mind off it at a wake. Luckily, there’s a kick ass refreshment room, so we spend a lot of time in there, making small talk about video games. I’m not eating for a week after this trip and I’m putting in extra time at the gym.

“Oh, fuck,” Garrett exclaims, putting his fifteenth cupcake back down on the table.

“What? Another relative you need to go meet?” I ask. He has to see one about every twenty minutes.

“No. Holy shit, dude. That’s Maya’s real dad.”

My stomach drops as I whip around just as
Darlene starts wailing, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Little Kurt scampers away from the scene as his mother howls out a stream of obscenities before two of Maya’s cousins hold her back from hitting the man that betrayed and abandoned her. When they can’t get
Darlene to calm down, they drag her out the back door, kicking and screaming. I watch in horror as Maya’s father steps forward to greet her as she’s standing there paralyzed while everyone in the crowded room starts whispering about who he is and what he did.

I can’t hear what he’s saying because he’s speaking at a normal volume, but I’d imagine it’s some version of ‘sorry I left you, how’d that end up working out?’ Maya’s used to tell me that it looked like I was wearing a mask when we first met and I thought I knew what she was talking about, but I didn’t truly understand it until now as I watch hers crack.

Her eyes fill with tears as her lips start to tremble. I try to get there before she breaks down, not that I have any idea how to stop it, but I don’t make it in time. She chokes out a sob as he reaches out to touch her arm, which only upsets her more.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growl, pulling him backwards.

I don’t get another chance to say anything to the man that created her because Maya runs out the front door and I chase after, barely overhearing one of her wild haired uncles tell the other that I’m not such a pussy after all. I find my girlfriend leaning against a tree, watching the rush hour traffic that we will soon be stuck in because I am getting her the fuck out of here.

“Maya,” I whisper, reaching out as she turns around.

At least her face isn’t blank anymore. She wraps her shaking arms around my neck and hides under my chin. She isn’t crying, but her knees give out after a few seconds. I wanted to carry her anyway. I gather her little body into my arms and take her to the car, buckling her in.
Sorry Garrett. You’re on your own,
I text him once we’re on our way back to the hotel.

She doesn’t say anything as we drive until she sees a restaurant that she’s been to before and she wants to stop. Maya never eats when she’s stressed out but here she is devouring an entire plate of ribs and all the sides that come with it. What the fuck? The food is, in fact, absolutely amazing just like she said it would be, but I can’t enjoy it because I feel like I’m sitting across from a stranger instead of the girl next door who captured my heart and owns my soul.

There is no fucking way we are going back to her mom’s house tonight. I call Garrett to see how he is and to let him know that we didn’t leave the state or anything. Meeting his entire extended family in one day had to be exhausting, but he wants to stay with him mom and sister. Darlene is very upset.

Maya perks up for a second once I take the contacts out and she can see my eyes, but her smile is weak and doesn’t last for long. She’s still not crying. I never thought I’d wish she would. Around 7:30, she falls asleep while watching a television show that she normally hates. What the fuck should I do? She refuses to leave her brother and let him fly home by himself.

I crawl in bed, wrapping my body around hers. She finally snuggles next to me in her sleep, her little hand curled up between our chests just begging me to kiss it. It makes her mewl adorably and yawn, but she doesn’t wake up. Breathing out a sigh of relief from seeing a sign that she’s still in there, I close my eyes and decide to just lay next to her all night, but soon I realize I’m actually tired because of the extra Xanax.

My eyes open at four in the morning and Maya’s not in bed next to me. I find her sitting in a chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out the window. That’s it. I am not looking at this distant expression again today.

The remnants of winter’s grasp are nowhere to be found here, it’s so green and warm. We may as well enjoy it. There’s six hours to kill before the funeral and it’s well before the sun comes up. I get on my phone and find a nice lookout within driving distance, insisting that we’ll have time to get ready for the service.

The colors are incredible, swirls of pinks and purple spiraling up from the hills. We watch the sunlight break through the clouds and for a brief moment, I see Maya’s eyes light up in amazement and her lips curl into a wide smile. She actually kisses me back when we make out for a little while, sitting on a boulder, surrounded by the singing birds.

Thankfully, Maya doesn’t want to go to the sermon, though she tells me that we should just so I can see how crazy it is. I’d probably burst into flames if I stepped foot in an actual church anyway. That makes her laugh, an authentic, hearty laugh, and we have an actual conversation about our lives at some roadside home cookin’ restaurant over biscuits and gravy. I have to admit, they give mine a run for their money.

Apparently, the process of putting a body into Southern soil involves a lot of wailing by the female family members. I find it more disturbing than Maya, but probably less than Garrett, who is happy to be standing next to ‘the only two normal people at this fucking thing’, as he puts it. After an extremely uncomfortable luncheon, we head back to the hotel to change into normal clothing before a mandatory farewell dinner at
Darlene’s. Why the fuck do we have to keep eating every few hours? My stomach is about to explode.

It’s a highly symbolic supper during which I am unable to refuse a single bite of food. Once it’s over, I casually mention that we should get going, but Maya’s mother starts reminiscing with her children over old pictures. I stay around for as long as I can stand it, but I need a fucking break and Maya seems fine, so I pretend to get a call that I should take outside.

It’s been longer than twenty minutes, but even with the lure of seeing images of Maya as a little kid, I can’t make myself go back in there. I have a good view of the kitchen table and can keep my eye on her from the yard, so I decide to do the unthinkable. I haven’t had a cigarette since the day I left Gloria, but it’s that or more Xanax. I bought a pack because they’re handy to have at funerals and I was definitely right about that because I only have three left.

This tastes fucking horrible, far worse than it smells. Have the ingredients changed or something, how the hell did I ever enjoy this? The buzz is pretty relaxing because I have no tolerance, so I finish sucking down the cancer stick and resolve to get my ass back in the game. Then I look to see that it’s just Maya alone with her mother at the table, having a potentially serious discussion and decide to view it as an excuse to stay outside for a little longer so I don’t interrupt them. The breeze is so refreshing, a perfect complement to the chirping crickets and frogs. I can’t wait until it gets warm at night like this in Boston.

“Got one for me?”

Fuck. It’s Laurel. “Sure,” I say, pulling the pack out of my pocket and handing one to her.

She makes sure our fingers touch for an inappropriate length of time as she takes it. “Got a light?” she asks, holding the cigarette between her lips as she leans forward, subtly pushing her arms together to create more cleavage that she thinks I’m remotely interested in. There is no fucking way I’m lighting it for her, so I hand her the lighter instead. She laughs and takes it from me, the flame illuminating the nothingness in her eyes before she gives it back. “I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for what you did for my family,” Laurel says, blowing the smoke upwards and she takes a step closer to me. “It might not mean much to you, but it meant a lot to us.” She sounds too much like her sister, it’s creeping me out. This trip better not ruin my fetish for Maya’s accent.

“I’m glad I could help,” I reply, backing away. “And sorry for your loss.”

“Is it too early to say that Tanya was an uptight bitch?” she laughs.

“It’s probably too early to say that, yeah. She was still family.”

“I know, I know. I’m halfway kidding. We actually got along just fine, not that I could ever admit that with my mother around.”

“Well, I should get back inside,” I say, stepping toward the house.

Laurel grabs my arm, her hand sliding up from my elbow to feel my bicep. Goddammit. This just got blatantly inappropriate. “Look at them,” she whispers as I pull my arm away. “They never get to spend any time together, just by themselves. We should leave them alone.”

“You never see your sister either,” I remind her.

“Maya doesn’t like me all that much.”

Maybe you should stop trying to fuck her boyfriends.
“It’s never too late to change that.”

“Aren’t you sweet. You think about everybody else, don’t you? Does anybody ever stop and ask if you need something?”