The Opposite of Love (14 page)

He was falling for her. Even with his lack of long-term experience, he knew that’s what this was. Saying ‘I love you’ had been much harder than a lie. And he also knew that if they got more serious, he’d still have had this lie hanging over his head. If he could get out from under this one lie, he could be honest going forward. He could be himself—his true self. That wasn’t something he’d done since he was twelve and the pure simplicity of it, just the idea, made him feel light.

Melanie woke with
a headache. She'd had three glasses of wine at the ball and not enough food. She'd been too busy worrying about James' state of mind to watch out for herself, and this bothered her. James was snoring, wrapped around her like an itchy scarf, but rather than wake him she just stared at the ceiling. The scene with James' mother and his subsequent confession had been quite unexpected, and she'd spent the evening trying to soothe him, to reassure him that things were not as bad as he imagined, and then to take his mind off of it. When they came home he'd been passionate in bed, intimate. He looked into her eyes, stroked her face, kissed her gently, then passionately. She assumed that this burst of closeness had been the result of their conversation and her empathizing rather than judging him as he'd feared—it was clear he put a lot of clout in bloodlines and heritage. But how does someone treat their mother that way?

It seemed strange to her that someone could throw a parent away, let alone both of them. You only get two to begin with—if you're lucky. His childhood must have been truly traumatic for him to make such an unimaginable choice.

And then there was the lie. Perhaps this was the turning point though. To hear him tell it, this was his deepest, darkest secret, the one he’d never told anyone. And he’d shared it with her, so that meant something. Of course, he’d been cornered to an extent, but he still didn’t have to tell her anything if he didn’t want to. So the fact that he wanted to come clean meant that he was taking their relationship as seriously as she was.

Didn’t it?

Once again Melanie wanted to talk to someone but didn't know who to turn to. She wanted to discuss the scene between James and his mother, specifically James' behavior. Everyone had a past, but to call his mother a crazy bitch, that was incomprehensible. And Melanie's desire to bounce her opinions off someone was blunted by the necessity of protecting his privacy. He hadn't sworn her to secrecy, but the way he'd told her the truth, with shame in his throat—it was obvious this was deeply personal. His attempt to choose his words carefully had been thwarted by his anger and he swore each time he mentioned his mother and her behavior. It had made her want to help him, to hold him and tell him it was ok. To soothe his pain.

Of course she couldn't tell her own mother what James had said; drugged-out and neglectful parent or not, in Melanie's family there was a mandatory standard of respect for the one who brought you into the world, and on this, Melanie was inclined to agree. It was more than just how she was brought up.

If she
was
willing to reveal James' story, Derek was discreet enough to confide in, but aside from occasional text messages, they hadn't spoken since the anal attempt. She wouldn't bother him with this, but she made a mental note to reach out to him soon to see where they stood.

But Melanie felt that the conversation with James was unfinished. James' relationship with his mother didn't have to be over. As long as she and his father were still alive, there was a chance. And having lost her own father and always feeling that her life would have been richer with him in it, she wondered if perhaps the same was true for James. Even with the drug issues, a mother and father still hold some value, don't they? Some wisdom, some advice or understanding, something. For someone so convinced that blood matters, hadn't he given up too easily on his own family?

James stirred, stretched, then wrapped himself around her again, cupping her breast with his left hand.

“Morning," she said.

“Mmmm."

“How are you feeling?"

“Dry. But ok."

“I'll go get us some juice."

James grunted when Melanie extracted herself from the bed. She returned with two glasses of orange juice and set his on the nightstand on his side of the bed, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her own.

“Tell me more about how you grew up."

James opened his eyes to look at her. “Seriously? No."

“Why not?"

James reached for the juice and took a swig. Then another. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Melanie had already checked it for answers that morning and so she knew there were none there.

“What do you want to know?"

“I want to know why you're not interested in trying to have a relationship with your mother."

He looked at her then. "After what I told you? How can you even ask that?"

"That was then. Maybe she's changed, gotten clean. Maybe she's someone you could learn from. Either way, she's your mother."

"And so I owe her something because she birthed me?"

"Not just that, but maybe that. I think you owe it to yourself. What if there's an opportunity to heal and you miss it? What will happen when she dies? You won't have a chance to change anything then. You'll feel this way for the rest of your life."

"Frankly, I was surprised to find that she's not already dead." James closed his eyes.

Melanie sighed and took it that the conversation was over. She went to shower and when she came back into the room he was still in bed, snoring softly. She went down to her office and began going through emails she hadn't gotten to during the week. When the phone rang, she glanced at the caller ID fully intending to ignore it, but it was Sarah.

"Sis," she answered.

"Hey, you. What are you up to this morning?"

"Nothing special. What's up?"

"Richard says he's got the kids today. He wants me to go do something. You up for Red Rock?"

"Completely.”

“Calico?”

“Yep. I'll meet you at the trailhead in an hour."
 

The drive out to Red Rock Canyon was like driving into history. Although it was only a fifteen-minute drive outside the city, the land, owned by the Bureau of Land Management, was wholly undeveloped. The jagged mountains guarding the canyon were aggressive and sprayed with streaks of impossible reds and oranges. Melanie parked her SUV and waited for her sister at the trailhead for the old sandstone quarry. Even though Sarah lived closer to the canyon, she had the hardest time getting out of the house because of the kids. Melanie pulled out her phone and checked for a signal; it was hit or miss out here, and once into the hike it would be non-existent. She would have liked to call Derek, just to say hi, but the signal was too low. She texted him instead.

HEY. JUST CHECKING IN. HOW ARE YOU?

She sat and watched the green bar stretch across the top of the screen, pause dramatically, then rush to the finish with a
bloo-oop
. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Why was she nervous about this? How long had it been since the aborted attempt? Was there a real chance that he was still upset with her? And why had he been so upset in the first place? She was suddenly angry at herself for letting it go so long, for not making him tell her what had gone wrong. And then disappointed in herself for not being able to figure it out.

It was another ten minutes before Sarah arrived spraying rocks as she parked, then spilled out of her car with her hiking stick and pack, grinning and yelling, "I made it!” She couldn’t have looked more pleased with herself if she’d just summited Everest.

Their favorite hike was Calico Tank, an unmarked two-mile climb to a peak that looked over almost the entire Vegas valley. The day was clear and pushing eighty degrees at the trailhead, and the start of the climb was a sweaty haul through windless crevasses with a few different route options. Several times Melanie‘s thoughts drifted and she looked around to find Sarah about thirty yards away on another route—an easier one—watching her. Sarah didn’t say anything, just like when they were kids; didn’t try to
mom
Melanie or tell her what to do, just kept Melanie where she could see her.

At the top, as always, there was a cool breeze. They found a somewhat smooth spot on a jagged peak of limestone and sat crunching on apples that Sarah had brought in her pack.

“It’s so nice up here. So quiet,” said Sarah.

“Yeah, I guess you don’t get much of that at home.”

“Nope. But I wouldn’t trade it.”

Melanie nodded.

“What about you? What’s going on in your world?” Sarah asked.

Melanie shrugged, threw her apple core over the side of the peak. “Question," she said. "Men mean what they say, right? I mean, if there's something wrong, they just tell you. They don't overthink it or sugarcoat. Right?"

"Generally speaking, that's true when it comes to simple things or the daily ups and downs of life. Which is why they're usually terrible liars. Why, something happen with James?"

"I don't want to get into the details, but he kind of threw me with something... personal. For him. It had to do with his childhood. I didn't think it was a big deal—not enough for him to lie about it. So it makes me wonder if he isn't interested in having that kind of honesty in our relationship, or if he's just a liar."

"When a man has something he feels ashamed of or insecure about, he will get very good at not talking about it—not just lying, but not letting it come up at all. They can be very good at heading off conversations that get too close to a difficult subject. But when it's unavoidable, they will lie to protect themselves. Just like anyone."

Melanie looked from her sister to the valley spread out before them. She had asked the question in reference to James, but now she was wondering if this might be relevant to Derek's behavior as well.

"I don't know, Sis. I know romantic relationships are work, and I get what Mom is trying to do, but it just seems like it only gets harder, not easier."

"What Mom may not realize is that the work is supposed to be on you, not your partner."

“I’m telling her you said that.” The bluff was half-hearted.

“No you’re not.”

Melanie smiled to herself, then looked at Sarah expectantly.

"Don't give me that look. You asked the question."

"Ok. Tell me what I'm supposed to correct about myself."

"Correct isn't the right word.
Learn
is better. You have to figure out how to accept people the way they are, to not want to fix them or change them. They aren't you and they aren't ever going to be. So whatever it is that bothers you about the way James handled this personal matter, it's your job to figure out why it bothers
you
, what
you
might be bringing to the party. It's his job to figure out why he lied."

Melanie was silent for a while.

"Do you still go through this with Richard?"

"Not really. Not as much as when we first met. It's a steep learning curve in the beginning, but it levels out. We mostly get each other now."

"If someone ever boils this all down into a simple algorithm, they'll be rich."

Sarah laughed, "Ok, how about this: The three-step plan to a strong and happy relationship: understand your partner, acknowledge why he is the way he is, and accept him, farts and all."

"You mean warts?"

"Nope."

Melanie laughed, nodded. “Understand, acknowledge, accept. Sounds simple enough.”

She loosened a rock with a stick and nudged it toward the edge of the peak, watched as it tumbled fifty feet or so and was out of sight and on its way to the canyon floor one thousand feet below.

"You're pretty good at this stuff, Sis. Don't you ever feel like you should be using your psych degree?"

"Who says I'm not?"

Melanie smiled, nodded.

Before they got out of the car, Melanie took a deep pull on James’ whiskey flask and cringed.

“Ok, let’s do this,” she said. She smiled at James, trying to convey a confident sexiness she did not yet possess, but she was hopeful.

She stood to the side and pretended to check her phone for messages while James paid the cashier. The relationship had been in a second honeymoon ever since the ball. James was on his best behavior, checking in more often than necessary when they weren’t together. In return, Melanie was willing to be tied up and spanked at his whim, even once greeting him as he came in the door bent over the arm of the sofa wearing only one of his white t-shirts, her bare ass high in the air. He had stood in the doorway and groaned in a primal way that made her vaginal walls clench, and he had taken her at first with the forcefulness of a man led by his dick, and then with the gentleness and gratitude of a lover who has been pleased.

“You ready?” he asked, opening the door.

She winked at him, then passed through the door and headed up the stairs. She wore a sun dress that came to her mid-thigh, and she could almost feel his eyes on her backside.