Page 17 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
It’s almost midnight and I feel more alone than ever. It leaves me with only one place to go to, with only one person to turn to. I kiss my mom on her forehead, and stroke her cheek, willing for her to get better, desperately wanting her to know that she is loved and needed by the three of us.
In the falling rain I run. The rain with all its wretched coldness soothes me, the water trailing down my face like fresh tears, soaking my clothes until they cling to me like cellophane.
It’s wrong to do this, to go to him now, but I don’t care. I can’t feel. I can’t think. Being with Mr. Turner makes sense in this wretched moment. By the time I arrive at his place, I am soaked through to the bone. I bang on the door, my hair falling over my face like wet spaghetti, my feet squelching in wet sneakers. I try to keep it together, I try to be strong, the way I tried for my siblings as I left them to ride in the ambulance to the hospital, cursing my father for walking so carelessly out of our lives.
Mr. Turner opens the door, his face immediately twisting with worry.
“I’m sorry.” I can’t stop shivering. My plans to look composed disintegrate. I must look like a wretched lab rat.
He steps out, takes my arm and pulls me gently inside, away from the rain. No hesitation, no questions asked. “What’s wrong?” Concern etches the tiny wrinkles around his eyes.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to g-g-go.” I rub the wet sleeves of my sweatshirt, and feel colder now that I’ve stopped running.
“What happened?” His hands frame my face for the tiniest of seconds, before he pulls away.
But I can’t hold it in anymore. I can’t be strong. I fall against his chest and put my arms around him, and then I sob uncontrollably as I fall apart. He holds me close, his hand closing around my head as he reels me in against his body. Chest to chest, his heartbeat rises and falls with mine. I can’t get the words out.All I can do is cry. He doesn’t press for information. He waits, his big hands firm against my back.
We’ve done something we’ve never done before, standing with our arms around one another, touching like this, our bodies pressed together. A boundary we’ve never crossed.
When I can cry no more, I stop and sniffle into his chest. Rain trickles down my back. He smells of wood, and pine; clean and safe things, and I don’t want to move from this safe harbor.
“Tell me what happened.” He slips a finger under my chin, tilting my face up. Then he cups my face with one hand and wipes away the rain with the other. He gazes into my eyes intensely, and electricity shoots through my body, making me feel all kinds of crazy.
I open my mouth to say something but where do I start? A dull ache starts to build between my legs. I press my face against his chest again and take a deep inhale. It grounds me. I want to stay like this all night.
“You’re soaked all the way through,” he whispers, his voice soft like a lover’s caress. The veil between the real world and ours lifts. He’s not my teacher. He’s a friend. He’s someone who I can’t stop thinking about. “Hey.” He strokes my face softly. This is another first; his thumbs on my skin, something I have only dreamed about. I reach for his hand and hold his palm against my cheek.
Coming here is wrong, and falling into Lance Turner’s arms is more wrong, and standing pressed against him feeling his hardness is forbidden, but my mind has already played out this scenario and after a day of heartache, I’ll take all the wrongs just to be with him.
He is the one thing I need the most right now because he’s the only one who makes everything better.
He cares for me. It’s in the way his fingers wipe away my tears and in the way he holds me, so close that I’ve made his own clothes damp. “Tell me what happened, Megan.”
“My mom…” Even saying the words, recalling the moment I saw her lying on the floor, when I’d feared the worst, it makes me burst into tears again.
“Megan,” he coaxes, his voice so low I feel it in my chest rather than hear it. “Megan.” He hugs me even closer, holding me tighter, making me feel wanted in all the ways my eighteen-year-old body needs to feel wanted and held.
“I have my math exam tomorrow,” I whisper. “My mom took an overdose of pills and now she’s in the hospital—”
“What?” His fingers caress my face, and down below a fire builds. I can’t stop staring at his lips, and I want him to never stop stroking me. “Is she okay?”
And then, in between racking sobs, I tell him everything; that my aunt has come over to look after my brother and sister, and that I’ve been at the hospital by my mom’s side, that I’ve tried to study but I can’t take anything in. I sniffle again and burying my face into his chest makes heat course through my veins. He shifts, and his hardness pokes against me, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps.
I want to press against him. I want to grind my hips against him.
I want him.
But maybe I shouldn’t have come here, because I’ve overstepped a boundary and I’m in danger of going into no man’s land. But the truth is the hurt in my heart is so deep and only this man can fix it.
Shaun isn’t there for me much. I can barely get a hold of him. We’ve drifted apart without breaking up.
I examine Mr. Turner’s face, and try to read his expression. Does he feel what I feel?
Before I can stop myself, I tiptoe up and press my lips against his. I mistakenly thought he’d been waiting for it, just like me, that he’d been desperate for this, but his hands go limp. He pulls away, steps back, then folds his arms.
He closes off to me. “We shouldn’t…”
It throws me, losing his warmth and comfort. Getting back into reality. He doesn’t mean what he says. I can tell by the hungry look in his eyes that he is torn. His words say one thing but his body says something else.
