Page 16

We got home from our weekend in Portland at 10AM to my parents standing in the middle of a near-empty apartment.

“Congratulations! You have the place all to yourselves.”

My mom gushes, a wide smile spread on her polished face.

“What?”

“Your father and I packed up our things. We figured you and Damian deserved a place to be a family without us getting in your way.”

The apartment is attached to the house and was considered the butler’s apartment when it was built in the 1890s. For most of my life, this had been my grandmother’s place, until she died a few years ago. My parents have already cleared out all of their belongings and moved the kids’ things into the bedroom for us. The apartment isn’t grand, but it is perfect nonetheless.

It’s a small one bedroom, so if I don’t share it with Damian, the living room will be my room. It has a kitchen, a bathroom with a shower, but the best part is that it has its own entrance.

“We just thought... you're doing so well, so it’s yours now. If you want it.”

They tell me it is because they are proud of how far I’ve come, but part of me knows it is because they are ready to shift from being parents to being grandparents the rest of the way. They deserve that.

The reasoning doesn’t matter because, for the first time in my life, I am on my own. Even though they are just a wall away, my parents won’t be taking care of me. Jake won’t be taking care of me.

As much as I want him to move in, I know that he needs some time to not only get clean, but stay clean. I tell him that when he asks if he can move in after we bring my bed from my upstairs bedroom.

“I just think we should wait,”

I say, smoothing out the sheet as we work, “It’s not that I don’t want you here...”

“This is about Thursday, isn’t it?”

he drops the blanket and looks at me.

“Yes, it’s about you getting high. But it’s also...”

I nod and pause, trying to find the right words without setting him off. “Of course, I miss seeing you every day, but I need to know you’re in a good place first. I have to make sure you’re clean and that you stay clean.”

"I get it," He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair before quietly saying, "But I don’t want you to think that I can’t do this."

"I believe you. But I need you to show me you can stay clean, and not just for a week. I won't risk my son, Jake."

"I’ve been thinking about going back to school," Jake says, changing the subject as he finishes making the bed. "There’s a program that’s only a few months long, and the pay is almost double what I’m making now."

"School for what?" I raise an eyebrow, slipping under the covers.

"Phlebotomy."

"I don’t even know what that is," I laugh, shifting to get comfortable.

"It's drawing blood, like at a hospital for lab work," he says, like it is no big deal.

"So, you're thinking about poking people... with needles?" I stare at him. No, thank you.

"It’s a steady job, good pay, and it’s in high demand." He shrugs like it's not the weirdest job to consider.

"You could totally do it, but don't ask to practice on me," I hate needles, “but I'm happy for you."

He is taking steps forward, and I can meet him halfway.

Jake enrolls in a school about 30 minutes away a few days later. He starts coming over every night because Tacoma is closer to Renton than Lacey is.

Sometimes, he spends his weekends with Caylee at his mom’s, but most of the time, he’s here. By the time I notice he’s basically moved in, it’s too late to do anything about it. Besides, between school, work, and his insane amount of homework, he doesn't have time to even think about getting high.

We celebrate our one-year anniversary that night, and he surprises me. We spend the day wandering the city after he brings me to Portland. When we get back to the hotel, he pulls me onto the bed, into his arms, and he takes me soft and slow that night, the first time he’s ever made love to me instead of fucking me. I’m not sure I’d say it’s what I prefer, but there is something really sweet about it.

By the time he starts his externship, he is officially moved out of his mom’s and in with me, and things are better than ever.

With his weird hours at the clinic and my mom helping, I am able to get my GED. There are days when it feels like I am running on empty, like I can’t keep up with the demands of everyone around me, but I need this. I need to prove to myself that I can do it. That I can make something happen. I did a course at the local community college, and six weeks later, I have my diploma and have started looking for a job.

It wasn't easy finding work flexible enough to fit around everyone's schedules, but I can't afford daycare. Eventually, I get a temp job as an office assistant and I love it. Every step I take, no matter how small, is bringing me closer to something better. I am not just surviving anymore. I am living.

We are clean, but not sober. For my 21st birthday, we got a babysitter and go bar hopping. My mom and Jake take me to the casino. I’ve never been a big drinker, but I black out sometime around the fourth bar, and Jake has to carry me out. After my birthday, we start going out every Friday night for drinks, but I quickly realize I like to fight with Jake when I’m drunk, so I limit myself to one or two at most.

But drunk Jake sex is a whole different level.

“Fuck, you look so good tonight,”

Jake pulls me against him, causing us both to stumble.

“Shhh,”

I try to whisper, but giggle when it comes out louder than I expected.

“Why? The street’s empty. It’s like 3 AM,”

he laughs and moves behind me, sloppily kissing and sucking on my neck.

I stop laughing when he starts to make his way from my neck down my shoulder, and his hand glides over my breasts. I grip his hair over my shoulder as my breathing picks up, my chest rising and falling with each quick inhale.

He turns and smiles down at me before sinking to his knees, but I grab him to stop him.

“No,”

I laugh at the pout on his face. “You have to be quick,”

I say as I turn around and pull him out of the street and stand in front of a high wooden fence. I turn to look at him over my shoulder as I lift my dress up over my ass.

“Fuck, I love that ass.”

he comes up behind me and starts palming my butt. “But this?”

he adds as he kicks my legs apart, “this pussy is mine, isn't it, baby?” he asks as he shoves my panties to the side and slowly pushes his dick in.

I brace my hands on the fence above my head and arch my back the way he likes, my ass pressing against him, and moan, nodding my head.

“I’m gonna marry this pussy soon.”

he pulls out and slams back in, making me gasp as I drop my forehead on the fence and he fucks me.

Marry? I can't even form a question because he leans forward and starts rubbing my clit.

“You liked that, didn't you?”

he laughs while he pulls me up onto the tips of my toes, changing the angle and hitting my g-spot. “Start bouncing on my dick then, Elle,”

he taunts sarcastically, “and play with your pussy or I'm gonna finish without you,” he warns, pinching my clit before wrapping his hand around my throat.

He’s fucking me so hard I stumble forward, so he lets go of my throat and pushes me against the fence hard enough that I yelp, but he doesn't stop. He fucks me like a toy, shoving my cheek against the fence so hard I think it might bruise, but he just keeps going as he slams into me one last time and grunts through his orgasm.

He barely has time to put his dick away before a car turns onto the street and he dives behind a garbage can to our right, leaving me there with my ass in the air and his cum dripping down my thigh.

Without warning, he shoves my hands aside, pulls my dress down, and spins me around. His finger jabbed in my face, his tone suddenly angry.

“You can't just leave your ass hanging out for any guy to fucking see!”

Spit flies on my face as he yells at me.

“You just dropped, I didn't-”

I start before he turns on his heels and storms away.

“Jake,”

I try, but he ignores me as I try to catch up with him. He stomps all the way home before dropping onto the bed, clothes, and all, and immediately passes out.

He's shocked in the morning, seeing my red cheek.

“What happened?" His voice is quiet, careful even.

He doesn’t even remember. I stare at him, the words stuck in my throat for a moment, the frustration boiling just below the surface.

"You don’t remember last night? Screaming at me on the street? Me chasing after you when you left me there?" My voice cracks.

"I... I don’t remember that," he says, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m sorry. I don’t... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-God, I fucked up, again.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing ever feels like enough with him anymore.

“Maybe we should cut back on our drinking.”

I hedge, nervous about how he’ll react.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ve been drinking too much, and it’s getting out of hand,”

he says, and I don’t want to argue right now, so I nod my head.

"How about this?" he says, trying to change the subject. "Let’s go out. Let’s do something different today."

Before I know it, we’re heading out the door for a spontaneous trip to the Olympic Game Farm in Sequim.

I’m surprised at first and I can’t help but feel a little nervous. On the way, we stop for gas.

The muscles in his forearm flex as he fills up the car. His eyes lock on mine, and a smirk tugs at his lips, sending butterflies through my stomach.

When he returns to the driver’s side with a bag full of snacks, my favorites, and a small, fluffy teddy bear tucked under his arm, I smile. It’s so... simple. So sweet.

He hands me the snacks, his eyes searching mine as he does. "Here," he says quietly, his voice softer now. He leans in and kisses my cheek gently.

He’s trying to make things right, in his own way, and I feel a flicker of something. Maybe hope.

As we hit the road, the kids chatting in the backseat, I try to push aside the tightness in my chest, and I glance over at Jake.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

“You said something last night.”

I twist a little so I can see him better.

“Did I?”

He looks over at me before looking back at the road, his brow furrowing.

“You said you wanted to marry me.”

His gaze flickers between me, the road, and the kids in the back.

“Yeah, you did. But you were... pretty occupied while you said it.”

I check to make sure the kids aren't paying attention before continuing, “And you might have said you would marry my...”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like me,”

he laughs.

“It’s just, well, you played that song in California, and now this.”

I don't know why I'm nervous, but my heart is beating so fast I swear he can hear it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to marry you,”

he starts gently, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “I just think we need to have our own space first, somewhere where both the kids have their own rooms and we’re really on our own before taking that step.”

He brings my hand to his mouth and places a soft kiss on my knuckles.

His words hang in the air, warm and reassuring, but there’s something off in the way he says them. The kiss on my hand feels distant, like it's a promise he’s not entirely sure he can keep.

My cheek hurts. He was drunk and rough with me while we had sex in someone's yard last night. He pushed me against the fence and held my head there. I don't think I like drunk sex anymore.

-elle