MELONY
Hollis: Sorry about my phone call last night. Hope I didn’t wake you, just had a shitty sleep and it would have been nice to hear your voice.
Hollis: For future references, maybe you can change your voicemail so Mrs. Robot doesn’t tell me to leave a message but instead your beautiful voice does.
Hollis: I saw a cloud in the sky today that I swear looked like a penis going into a vagina. It made me think of you . . . you know, when you dry-humped me in your entryway.
Hollis: Remember the time I made you come just from touching your perfect little tit?
Hollis: I do. I can still hear your sexy moan. Now if only I knew how wet you were that night.
Hollis: Don’t want to talk about our sexual encounters? Okay, how about the time I pumped my cock in front of you. From the look in your eyes, I know you wanted your lips on my dick. Oh wait, was that sexual? Shit.
Hollis: I tripped over a barbell in the weight room today and fell face first into a stack of towels. I wished it was your breasts that caught me instead.
Hollis: Is it weird that I eat spinach and ketchup together?
Hollis: Did you watch Rollin’ in the Bacon last night? I didn’t but Holly keeps talking about how absurd Bellini is. I fear for your life. Please keep my baby safe.
Hollis: Silent treatment, I like it. Maybe I can silence you with my cock sometime soon.
Hollis: Don’t do relationships, huh? Why? What happened?
Hollis: My guess, someone hurt you and you’re too scared to put yourself out there again. Am I right?
Hollis: One thing you need to know about me, Melony, I’m the real thing. I don’t fuck around and I sure as shit don’t plan on ever leaving you alone, so you can either talk to me or we can continue to play this cat and mouse game. I know you like me, I know you want me, so it’s time we stop fucking around and we have a conversation.
It’s time we have a conversation . . .
Those words keep playing over and over in my head as my mom coos about what a great time she’s having being pampered. The nail salon we went to was having a special on manis and pedis. Kind of like a buy one get one free, so of course we indulged.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, while my toes are being painted and finished up, I scroll through the countless texts Hollis has sent me over the last few days. I’ve read them over and over but never reply. Some of them make the cold exterior I’ve placed around my heart melt just slightly, and some turn me into a rabid beast needing release from the sexual frustration I’m feeling.
But the last ones . . . those terrify me.
He wants to have a conversation. I’m pretty sure I know how that’s going to go. He’s going to want to dig into my past and get to the root of my “problem.” That’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to talk about my dad with Hollis, or with anyone for that matter.
For the past few days I’ve been able to avoid him by parking in another lot and walking through multiple apartment complexes, through the back entryway of my building to get up to my apartment. I’ve also kept to my bedroom, making sure to use headphones when watching Netflix on my computer and keeping my lights dim. Yep, I’m completely hiding out, and to be honest, I’m exhausted. Is this how I really want to live my life?
I haven’t been able to enjoy the beach like I want to, or go running, or even just lounge in my living room because I’ve been too nervous Hollis would come knock on my door.
But what I’ve been most terrified about is giving in, of opening that door and letting him in, only to cry into his arms and let him see all my scars.
“Oh, that’s a beautiful shade of pink, sweetie,” my mom praises, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s a little bright for me but you sure can pull it off.”
Nail polish color to my mom is white with a droplet of color so you can barely see what shade it is. Today, I believe she chose peach, that’s what it looks like at least. Luckily, my mom has wonderful skin color that makes the light shade pop.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Laughing, she holds her stomach and says, “Did you hear that? My stomach has been grumbling this whole time.”
“Mine too.” I smile, trying to ignore the anxiety rolling through me. There is so much going on inside me with Hollis and the giant elephant in the room, the man my mom went to dinner with. Hell, I can’t ask, I know I should, but it terrifies me to see the possibility of my mom getting hurt again. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Where do you want to go after this for lunch? Anywhere you want.”
“I was thinking maybe we could call and get some of that Chinese we had when we moved you in. I’ve been craving it ever since I left your place. It would be nice to eat out on your balcony that overlooks the ocean.”
“Sounds like a plan. We can call in our order once we leave, that way it should be there when we arrive home.”
“Wonderful. And let’s not forget to order egg rolls this time.”
“Noted.” I chuckle.
Once we pay, we carefully walk out to the sidewalk, trying to not mess up our freshly painted nails, although, thankfully our fingernails were done first. I make the call to the Chinese restaurant, being sure to add egg rolls to the order and drive toward my apartment.
“This was just what I needed,” my mom breaks the silence between us on our walk home. “It was a stressful week at work, a lot of puke to clean up. I made sure to wear gloves and a mask because whatever the family has I don’t want to catch while cleaning it up. I also drank some orange juice with an Emergen-C mixed in just to be sure.”
“That sounds terrible.” And gross. I really don’t do puke at all. Regurgitated food mixed with stomach acid, no thank you.
“It was, but I drove up the coast this morning to get to you. It took a little longer but it was refreshing, and I put the top down so the wind was in my hair. Kind of felt like an old-school Hollywood starlet.”
My mom has a 1990 red Mustang convertible that she is in love with. Last year she traded her old broken-down Jeep for a used Mustang in mint condition and couldn’t be happier. It’s the small things that make her happy. And despite the old model, she still thinks it’s “one classy car.”
“Sounds like a good drive. Did you listen to Garth Brooks on your way up?”
“You know I did. I can’t believe he’s back on tour after so many years taking time off. I’ve been saving my money so I can go to a concert. I know it’s not plausible this year but maybe next year he’ll come back in the area. I’m sure he’s not as energetic as when he was younger but it would still be such a treasure to see him perform.”
“I agree. Maybe I can see if there are any cheap tickets on StubHub. Even if we’re in the rafters, we could still go see him.”
“No, no, no,” my mom says, waving at me. “Save your money, sweetheart. You want to keep decorating that apartment of yours.” Looking out to the ocean, she takes a deep breath. “I’m really proud of you. Living so close to the ocean like you always wanted, supporting yourself, but I do wonder if you are happy.”
She glances in my direction, gauging my reaction. Why do parents do this? Try to have meaningful conversations with you when it’s the last thing you want to do. All I wanted was a nice relaxing afternoon spent with my mom, but apparently she has a different idea of what our time together should be spent doing.
“I’m happy, Mom.”
“But are you lonely? Don’t you want a boyfriend?”
Turning into the opening of my apartment complex, I say, “I don’t need a man in my life to feel fulfilled. I’m fine.”
“Fine is not what I want for you. Fine is subpar. I want you over the moon, overjoyed and loving life. You might say you’re good, but I can see in your eyes that you’re not.”
“I’m just tired, Mom.”
Out of everyone to talk to, she is the one I go to the most whenever I have a problem, but this time, she’s the last person I want to talk to. She’ll tell me to stop projecting my dad onto every man I meet and to give someone a chance, to fall in love, to trust. But that’s the last thing I want to do.
I don’t . . .
Fuck, I don’t want to find out I’m not enough again.
“I can see you’re not in the mood to talk about this. That’s okay,” she says while walking next to me to my apartment. “I would like to have a nice rest of an afternoon with you.”
“I would like that too, Mom.” Opening my apartment, I let her in and go to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Do you have those flavored sparking waters I like?”
“Of course.” The doorbell rings; Chinese food is here. “Mom, can you get that? Cash is in my wallet.”
“Sure, sweetie. Grab me a strawberry kiwi.”
It’s the only kind I buy whenever my mom comes to visit because I know she’s obsessed with it and she’s too cheap to buy herself such a “luxury.” She drinks water from the tap and that’s it. Kind of depressing so I always make sure to have her favorite sparkling water on hand.
“Oh my goodness, you’re not here to deliver us Chinese food, are you?” my mom says from the entryway.
What is she talking about?
Turning the corner, her drink in my hand, I see her with her hands clasped in front of her chest . . . and Hollis standing in front of her.
“You’re Hollis Knightly, the Olympic diver. Oh my goodness. Are you taking donations for your road to Rio?”
“No.” Hollis chuckles, eyeing me from over my mom’s head. He towers over her. He’s smiling but when he makes eye contact with me, his pupils go dark, and I know he’s not happy. Shit, could this timing be any worse? “I’m here to see Melony.”
“You’re here to see my daughter?” Turning to me, she gives me a confused look.
“Daughter? Wow, you two look like you could be sisters.”
So fucking cheesy, but my mom eats up the compliment like it’s the Chinese food she’s been craving.
“Uh, is this apartment 2D?” a teenage voice speaks up, holding a big brown bag of takeout.
“It is,” Hollis says, taking hold of the bag himself. “Let me get this, bro.” Not even asking how much it is, Hollis grabs a few twenties from his wallet and hands it to the boy who looks more than pleased.
“Gee, thanks man. Hey,” the boy points, “you’re Hollis Knightly.”
“I am.”
“Awesome, my sister has a poster of you on her wall. Can I snap a picture with you? She’ll be so jealous.”
Talking to this boy as if they are long-lost friends, Hollis says, “Hey, I have a sister. Making them feel jealous is one of the best feelings ever. Snap away.”
My mom and I watch the odd exchange in the hallway, Hollis taking a few pictures and then a quick video for the boy’s sister saying he adores her while blowing a kiss. Yeah, he’s yucking it up big time but it’s endearing. Any other celebrity might have been annoyed by now. But not Hollis. Of course.
“Tweet me her reaction, I would love to see it,” Hollis calls out as the boy descends the stairs with a wave. Turning back to us, Hollis walks in the apartment, saddles up next to me, only to set the food on the counter and pull me into a hug. Gently, he kisses my temple. “Hey, baby.”
For the first time, I cringe from the pet name. I really don’t mind it, doesn’t mean anything to me but to my mom . . . oh hell. This is going to be tough to explain.
“Baby?” my mom asks. From my viewpoint, I can see her with her hand on her hip and a very confused look on her face.
“It’s not what you think, Mom.”
“Aw, come on, pumpkin, you didn’t tell your mom about me?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I push away, putting some distance between us.
Turning to my mom, Hollis says, “She’s still in denial. The girl wants me, but she’s too afraid to admit it. Even after the night we shared.”
“Night?” My mom’s eyebrows lift in question.
Smacking Hollis on the chest, I say, “He’s only kidding, Mom. The guy only knows how to joke.”
“Not true, I know a lot of other things.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. If this is his way of trying to win me over, he’s doing a piss-poor job. “But we can talk to those other things later.” He turns back to my mom and holds out his hand. “I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Hollis, and you are?”
Smiling brightly, as if the last five minutes had no effect on her at all, she says, “I’m Carla. It’s very nice to meet you, Hollis. Now tell me, do you have eyes for my daughter?”
To my dismay, he pulls her in close to his side, loops her hand through his arm, and walks her over to the couch where they sit down to chat like old friends.
Shit, this is so not good.
“Carla, may I call you Carla?”
“Of course, dear.” She pats him on the forearm. Christ.
“Carla, I’ve been crushing hard on your girl for a while now and sadly, she hasn’t given me the time of day. She doesn’t answer my phone calls and ignores all my text messages. Can you believe that?”
Shooting a glare at me, my mom shakes her head. “I can believe it actually. Although, I did see her flip through some text messages today, maybe they were yours.”
“They weren’t,” I answer quickly, maybe a little too quickly.
“I think they might have been,” Hollis says with a wink. “I might have sent a few inappropriate texts. Did she show them to you?”
“No, I didn’t show them to her,” I answer, sitting across from them in a chair. “Why would I show my mom those?”
“She’s very closed off when it comes to her love life,” my mom offers.
“According to poky over there, she doesn’t have a love life.”
“Can you two not talk about me while I’m sitting right here?” I ask, irritated by the way my mom is getting along so easily with Hollis. Not that I’m really surprised. The man has undeniable charm. Everyone gravitates toward him. It’s hard not to.
“Sure, do you want to leave or do you want us to leave so we can continue talking?” Hollis asks with a smirk.
“Not winning points.”
His eyebrows rise. “But there are points to be won.” Nudging my mom with his arm, humor in his voice, he says, “And here I thought I had no chance at all.”
Giggling, my mom turns to me. “Oh honey, he is a delight.”
Cue giant eye-roll.
“As much fun as this is, our food is getting cold, so I think it’s time you say your goodbyes.” I speak directly to Hollis as I get up.
He’s about to answer when my mom claps her hands together. “Oh, won’t you stay and eat with us? We ordered plenty of food and have egg rolls too.”
Looking at me with mirth in his eyes, he says, “How can I turn down egg rolls? I would be honored to join you. Let me go wash up, I’ll be right back.”
Standing, he lends a hand to my mom, helps her up and then looks around. “Uh, Pooh Bear, would you mind showing me to the bathroom?”
Pooh bear? Don’t care for that nickname.
Through clenched teeth, I say, “Right this way.”
Hollis follows closely behind me, not giving up much space between us. Flipping on the half bath light, I gesture to the small room only to be dragged in it. He keeps the door open and talks lightly as he pins my hips against the wall.
“Do you know how much I missed seeing these fucking perfect pink lips?” Before I can answer, his mouth is on mine, devouring me whole.
I would like to say I pulled away, that I didn’t let him pull me into a Hollis-filled haze, but that would be lying. Just the feel of his hand on my hip has me wanting more. Instinctively my tongue searches out his, parting his lips, allowing him to press further. Talk about mixed signals.
Hell, I can’t even say what’s going on right now.
A clash from the kitchen sounds off as my mom says, “Oops, just dropped a fork. Everything is okay.”
Her voice pulls me back into reality. I gently push against Hollis’s chest, giving us distance. His heady eyes look down at me, and fuck me, all I want to do is kick my mom out of my apartment right about now. Just one night . . .
Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “Fuck me, baby. I’m going to have to think of Uncle Wade’s hairy back in order to get my cock under control. I’ve missed you.”
Why does a little part of me want to say I missed you too?
I’m so screwed.
“Uh, soap and water are in the sink.” Duh, where else would they be? “Towel is on the rack. I’ll get you a plate for your food. Meet us in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Smiling at my awkwardness, he cups my cheek and says, “Your pink nails are hot as fuck. I can’t wait to see them gripping my cock.”
I swallow hard and don’t acknowledge his little statement because if I do, I know it will come true, so I head out to the kitchen unfortunately turned-on and less than thrilled that my mom is here right now.
When I enter the kitchen, she gives me a knowing smirk. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Don’t have any kind of love life, huh? Seems like you two are awfully cozy.”
“He’s just touchy and hopeful. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“As he shouldn’t. He’s a good man for pursuing you and knowing the value of you as a person.”
“Mom, it’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?” Hollis asks, walking in on our conversation. “Is she talking about me, Carla? Telling you false information?”
“She says there’s nothing between you two.”
“Mom,” I reprimand. Uh hello, where’s the loyalty?
“Nothing between us, huh?” Hollis asks with a playful look. Oh no, I feel like I know that look. “Want to explain why there is lipstick on my lips right now?” He points to my mouth, and I instantly flush.
“Oh my God,” I mutter with my head down. Focusing on the lo mein in front of me, I divvy out my portion.
“That does seem incriminating,” my mom answers with a laugh while nudging my shoulder.
I don’t say a word, I can’t. It’s all too humiliating. What must my mom think right now?
Standing next to me, Hollis pulls me in by my shoulders and kisses my head. “She’s shy about her feelings for me. Isn’t that right, baby cakes?”
Talking from between my teeth, I say, “I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
Backing up, as if I burned him, he replies, “Ooo, touchy today.”
Without another word, we all fill up our plates with rice, noodles, steamed veggies and some General Tso’s chicken . . . plus egg rolls, and sit at the little four-person table right outside my kitchen. My mom brings Hollis a drink because she’s not the bitter hostess I currently am, and we start eating.
I think we’re done with the whole “relationship talk” when Hollis opens his mouth. “Carla, tell me why our beautiful little Melony carries such a strong disapproval of relationships. I need to know because whatever is floating around in that gorgeous head of hers is really delaying the progress I want to make when it comes to making her mine.”
“Making her yours? That’s a little cave-like, don’t you think?” Thank you, Mom. Finally.
Shaking his head, Hollis wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Not the way I see it, Carla.” I hate how confident he is when he speaks. “You see, I’m a true romantic. I believe that when you’re with someone, you’re with them for a purpose, not just to mess around, but to form an unyielding bond. A bond that will not only serve as a foundation of friendship, but also a foundation for love and respect. If I’m with someone, I’m with them one hundred percent, which means I’m theirs: mind, body and soul. I expect nothing less in return.”
Nodding her head, she takes a sip of her drink. “That is the kind of relationship I’ve always dreamt of for Melony. I want someone to take care of her, to worship her, to make her feel important.”
“And I can’t wait to do all of those things. I just need her to give in a little so I can show her I’m the kind of man she deserves.”
They are talking to each other as if I’m not sitting here. The worst part about all of this, everything Hollis is saying is slowly breaking down my defenses. He’s making it almost impossible for me to keep pushing him away, despite my reservations. Why does he have to be so sweet? Why does he have to say all the right things? Can I trust that he’s being truthful? Is he a man of his word? Or is he wishy-washy like my father?
I look into his eyes, denim-blue eyes that are staring down at me as he talks. There is no waver in them, no uncertainty. They are clear, genuine, loving . . .
I’m studying his handsome face and the way his scruff defines his jaw when I hear my mom say, “It’s my fault she doesn’t want to give herself over.”
What did she just say?
“Mom . . .”
She holds up her hand and looks at Hollis. “Her father left me—”
“Mom,” I say a little louder, giving her a warning look that apparently she doesn’t pick up on.
“It’s only fair that he knows.”
“It’s none of his business,” I snap.
Apparently my mom has no ability to shut her mouth because she continues. “He left when she was six and started a new family.”
“Mom!” I shout this time, standing up from my seat.
“Melony, you can’t keep living your life like this because of someone else.”
Not hungry anymore and completely humiliated, I push my chair in and take off toward my room. “Call me later, Mom, when you’re not airing our dirty laundry to everyone.”
I don’t wait for her response, I can’t. I make my way to my bedroom, shut the door, and lie on my bed.
How could she tell Hollis that? As if it was just casual conversation. My dad leaving us is the most humiliating, gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever gone through. Why would she just tell him? Tears prick my eyes as images of that horrendous day run through my mind.
His suitcases at the door.
My mom begging him not to leave.
Watching from the sofa, holding my stuffed bunny as he pushes her off him.
The fleeting glance he gives me as he picks up his baggage.
The slam of the door.
The cry of my mother and the sound of her hitting the floor in pure agony.
The empty feeling burned deep inside me from the loss of my father. From the loss of the man who would pick me up and pretend I was a rocket and then launch me into my canopy bed every night. The loss of the man who smelled my feet and then told me how stinky they were. The loss of a man who would secretly take me to the ice cream store to buy my favorite treat of strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.
He was gone.
He didn’t even hug me goodbye.
I’m crying into my pillow, sorrow wracking through my bones. The feeling of total loss engulfs me.
I’m lost in heartache when my bed dips and a large, firm hand presses against my back, rubbing it in soothing motions.
“Hey, baby.” The deep rumble of Hollis’s voice rings out. “Scoot over for me.”
I don’t even bother putting up a fight. There’s no use when it comes to Hollis. When he has his mind set on something, he doesn’t let up.
Once I scoot over on the bed, he slides in right next to me and wraps his strong arm around me. His head goes right to mine where he kisses my neck gently, in a comforting way.
“Your mom went home,” he says softly. “She told me to tell you to call her when you’re ready.”
I nod, not able to vocalize anything.
“Can I say something?”
Not like I can stop him, he’s probably going to say whatever is on his mind anyway. I nod, giving him the go ahead.
“Your mom gave me a brief overview of what happened, of what your father did. She didn’t go into detail, just said he destroyed your ability to trust men.” Of course she did. I know she wants what’s best for me, but how does she even know what that is?
“I want you to know something, Melony, and I want you to actually listen to me, to absorb the words I’m about to say to you. Can you do that?” His voice is so close to my ear, so deep, so kind, it sends ripples of goosebumps across my skin.
“Yep,” I squeak out.
He kisses my temple. “Good.” He takes a deep breath. “Your dad’s a dick. He gives men a bad name, a bad reputation. He’s a selfish prick who didn’t know how good he had it. Just from the brief moment I spent with your mom, I could tell she is strong and beautiful just like you. Any man would be lucky to call her his.” He kisses my cheek and slowly moves my body so I’m lying on my back and he’s hovering over me. Through my tear-stained eyes, I see so much warmth in his expression. Softly, his thumbs wipe away the dew from my eyes, the caress so sweet that it makes me want to cry again.
“As for you, it’s his loss for choosing not to watch you turn into a gorgeously intelligent and breathtaking woman.” He kisses my forehead gently and then looks me directly in the eyes. “I see your scars, baby. I see the worry, the reservations you feel about jumping into a relationship, of putting trust in another man, of lending your heart to another person to handle. I understand you, baby.”
Lowering himself, he presses a whisper of a kiss along my lips, and the sensation lightens the dark cloud hanging over me. I hate to admit it, but he does make me feel lighter, happier.
“I can understand how you associate what your dad did to you to every other man to walk in your life.”
I bite my bottom lip and I say, “I wasn’t good enough for him to stay.” I can feel the quiver, the tears starting to form again. Hold them back, Mel. Hold them back.
“No,” Hollis says with a hint of anger. “He was a piece of shit who took off, leaving two perfect pieces of heaven behind. Do not blame yourself for his shortcomings.”
“Why didn’t he want to stay?” Tears fall from my eyes. The expression on his face softens. Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
His hand caresses my face as he speaks. “I don’t know, baby. Some men are too insecure to face what’s wrong with them, so they leave. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. Do you hear me? It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”
I nod, trying to hear the words he’s saying.
But I still feel like I was part of the reason he left. He didn’t want Mom, but why didn’t he want me? If I was so great, then he would have stayed . . . right?