The Open Window - Part 2
I was on my feet quickly, "Rick, wait." He paused in a way that told me he was still set on walking out the door and that I didn't have much time before he did. "I know you don't want to be left behind, but you must know they aren't trying to exclude you. They're just trying to protect you. I can't imagine what questions they have to ask if David would prefer you stay put. You'll be involved when it's time for court, or maybe the guy will plead guilty and save everyone's heart." It was barely working because his body was still angled toward the door.
"Besides," I decided on a change of tactic, "I know the real reason you want to go." He gave me a quizzical look, showing he didn't know what I meant. "You know it's my night to pick a movie. And you're afraid to watch my choice." As if to prove myself, I held up the DVD case of a scary movie that had just come out.
"I'm not scared of some movie." He replied.
"Prove it." My words held the air of a childhood dare. Rick did not like horror movies. Regardless, he put his coat back down and rested himself on the couch. Satisfied with my success, I put the DVD in the player and sat beside him, turning off the last light in the room as I did.
Within twenty minutes, Rick was clinging to a pillow before him, eyes glued to the screen. A few times, I felt the sofa shift as he jumped when I screamed. I tried to pretend that he hadn't moved closer to me, but after the last dissonant chord and kill in the movie, it was unmistakable how much closer he was. The skin of his arm was touching mine.
"Shit!" His jump made me laugh. He turned and looked at me, obviously unhappy with me, though playfully. "You think that's funny?" I shook my head, still chuckling. "Oh, you're real convincing. Get over here." Without warning, his arms surrounded me, pulling me closer until I was completely up against him. He began trying to pull my bun and ponytail loose. "Is it funny now?"
I wasn't about to give up without a fight. Being undeniably skinny, I could slide myself out of his arms and grab a pillow, striking him with it. "No weapons!" He snatched the pillow from my hands and started hitting me back while I screamed for him to stop.
We were both laughing as I ducked, and he swung. With a final lunge, I grabbed the pillow but knocked us too far off balance. We fell from the couch together, me landing on top of him. "Oh, Rick, I'm sorry! Are you okay? You didn't hit your head, did you?" I leaned closer to him, trying to get a better look, which proved near impossible in the darkness. Television is still our only light source. He was laughing - a beautiful sound - before letting his body relax. His hands came up and rested on my lower back.
Our eyes were locked, our faces inches apart. "Michonne." My chest was flat against his, enough that I could feel his heart beating. I couldn't breathe but wondered if he could feel my heart racing. Throughout the week, eight years of pent-up emotions, feelings, and yearnings had been coming back.
This is just Rick.
I tried thinking logically. He didn't want me in that way. Physically, he was everything a girl could want, and deep down, he was sweet and soft-hearted. I was plain and ordinary. Not to mention that he had to be way more experienced with girls than I was with guys. There was no way he wanted me. But there he was, holding me just inches from him. "Michonne, I..." A scream on the screen caused us both to jump, effectively ending the moment. I never found out the end of that sentence.
Later that night, after his brothers returned with nothing too big to report, he and I climbed the stairs to his room. He closed the door behind us as he always did. Reaching into the hamper, I pulled out a shirt and a pair of shorts he had given me to wear. Though I had brought my own pajamas, I preferred wearing his. As I turned around, I saw his back to me; he stood without a shirt and was slipping down his jeans. I had to force my eyes away from him before turning and pulling off my clothes in favor of his. The shirt was long and fell a bit past my ass. It would be all I would wear if I were alone since I hated having pants on while I slept. All the same, I pulled the shorts on.
Walking over to the bed, I pulled back the covers and crawled underneath, moving around to warm the sheets. He followed soon after and got under the sheets as well. "Is it just me, or has it been extra cold here the past few nights?" He asked. I chuckled, trying to keep my thoughts on kittens and fluffy bunnies. "Do you mind?" he asked, moving a tiny bit closer.
"Of course not, it's your bed." I was on my side with my back to him, trying to ignore the distance between us.
After a moment, the bed shuffled as he moved, rolling towards me. Lightly, he rested his hand on my side; the warmth of his fingers soaked through the cotton of my shirt. My brain was at a frantic crossroads. Should I turn and face him? Should I pretend to be sleeping? Should I wait to see if he does anything else? Turning only my head toward him, I smiled slightly. "If you're trying to steal my warmth, you're going to be terribly disappointed."
He chuckled, and his deep rumble caused the bed to vibrate under me. "I very much doubt that you could disappoint me," What did that mean? "But I actually figured you might be cold." It wasn't that hard to figure; I was always cold. His hand slid forward, following the line of my arm to where my hand rested in front of me. "Freezing." He commented. My heart was racing. It took everything I had to keep my breathing steady, even though my skin was on fire when he touched me.
He slid the tiniest bit closer to me but was near enough that I could feel traces of his breath on my neck. "Roll over." His voice was soft and undemanding. I rolled toward him.
Taking my cold hands in his, he rubbed them before bringing them to his lips and exhaling warm air between his palms. My eyes moved back and forth from our hands to his eyes. "Any better?" He asked between bursts of warm air.
With a pleased smile, I nodded. "It feels good." He stopped breathing on my hands but continued to clutch them. My stomach was doing flips, and it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my breathing steady. Goosebumps were all over my body.
"Can I, uh... Can I ask you a question, Michonne?"
His voice was timid in a way I wasn't used to hearing. I tried to ignore his concern, but it automatically passed through me. "Of course, you can ask me anything; you know that."
Though he smiled slightly at my words, the bit of worry in his eyes did not lessen.
"How many guys have you been with?"
Whatever I may have been expecting, that was not it. "What?"
He moved as if about to turn away from me. "I'm sorry. It's stupid; I shouldn't have asked."
"Wait, no. I-I just... I don't know what you mean. I've never had a boyfriend."
"But you're not a virgin." I knew his tone well enough to know that this wasn't a question or a bitter accusation.
Shaking my head, I met his eyes. "Kinda."
"Kinda? How does that work?"
"Well, there was this guy, and wait, you already know what happened; it's still that one time." Most of the girls in the neighborhood had some seriously high numbers, but I still felt ashamed. If I had had my way, there would only be one, but the one I wanted was the one I would never have.
Rick was shaking his head slightly. "That was like two years ago." Sex had fallen under the "tell each other everything" category of our friendship growing up. He knew the second I attempted that first time. He knew how scared and reluctant I had been. He knew how much the guy pushed and pressured me even though I barely knew him. He knew I decided I didn't want to anymore. He did not, however, know anything when it came to that same guy showing up at school with a broken nose and bruised ribs.
"I retired."
"Retired?"
"No sex at all." His brow furrowed as if he were trying to understand exactly what I was saying. In truth, the one time I had even tried was an attempt to get my mind off of him, and that was a disaster. With him gone, that was the only place my mind ever went, wondering where and how he was. "Rick, you beat the shit out of that one guy and..."
"That guy was an asshole."
"...and roughed up the ones I told you tried to hit on me."
"David did some of that, too." Although this was true, I still gave him a look.
"You were too good for any of them."
"Are you shocked?"
"I'm a little shocked. I just figured that with me out of the way, guys would seize the opportunity to go out with you without the threat of—you know—me or one of my brothers."
"No guy has ever wanted to go out with me, Rick. They only ever wanted to hook up. Like I said, I've never had a boyfriend."
"That's not right. You deserved a guy who would take you out and... I don't know... dance with and care about you, and who would look at you like you are the only girl in the world. It's not right that you never got that. You really should have, Nik." His voice was soft and apologetic.
"Rick, it's fine. I never would have wanted to date any of those guys anyway. I was much better off without one of them as a boyfriend."
"I've never had a girlfriend."
"Bullshit!"
"Seriously. And I know what you're going to say. That one, what's her face, from a few years before I left, but you know damn well that girl was a crazy stalker." I wanted to point out that he'd slept with her anyway, but I knew that he had his reasons for that.
I've had sex with a lot of girls, Michonne. A lot. I'm not very proud of that. It's disgusting, really, to think of how many girls I've... but I needed some amount of control in my life. It gave me power. No heartbreak. No drama. No vulnerability. It was..."
"Rick, I know. You don't have to explain it." His eyes softened with the smallest trace of a 'thank you.' Their father used to beat him and his brothers, and his mother and the boys were temporarily in foster care until his mom was able to get away from him. He's never gone into detail about what happened while in foster care, but I think there was more than physical abuse going on.
"I just want you to know that none of those girls meant anything to me; if they did, I never would have slept with them after only knowing them for a few days... or hours. Maybe I wouldn't have slept with them at all because I was just using them anyway. If I cared, I would have stuck around afterward. Meaningless sex is easy, but attachment and commitment, having sex with someone because I care, the thought is terrifying. I'd have to love someone, and I have yet to do that. Have meaningful sex, I mean. It was like, the lights always had to be off..."
His words made my head spin. "Rick, why exactly are we talking about this?"
For a moment, he didn't say anything; he just stared past me. Then our eyes met. "I've been bored."
"So you ask me about my sex life?"
A sly smile played across his lips, almost sending shivers down my spine. How could any smile be so amazing? "I just wanted to make sure I'm caught up on my beatdowns." This didn't quite fit, but he sounded content, and I didn't want to break him from that.
My fingers were still cradled between the palms of his hands, and this realization filled me with warmth. "Thank you."
He caught where I was looking and gave a smirk. "Hands feeling better?"
"A bit, but I meant thank you for beating the shit out of Brandon Robinson. You were right; I wasn't ready, and he almost stole my first time. It shouldn't have been with him."
The words caught in his throat as he began to speak but stopped just before anything could reach his tongue. With a deep breath, he began to trace his fingers against the back of my hand. "Who should it have been?"
Answering with the full truth was not an option. I wouldn't allow myself to ruin his closeness with honesty. This was a friendly conversation, and I was about to make it personal. He should have been my first—my first and only. I settled on the response of "Someone I love."
"So you really didn't fall in love once in the last two years?" His tone was close to concern.
"No. To be honest, I wouldn't even say there was someone I really cared about. Seriously, there was no boyfriend. My mother's reputation didn't really help me either. I'm sure guys figured I must do what she does."
"Your mom, I'm sorry. That's probably why I got overzealous with finding the guys who hit on you. I wasn't sure if they were sincere." I tried not to show my disappointment that it wasn't because of jealousy. "So... mostly a virgin. You know what they say, don't you? It's like an earring hole; if you don't put anything in it, the hole will close."
"Haha, funny." He smiled. "The one guy was such a disaster I couldn't risk it again. I mean, he didn't even see me naked, and his pants were just pulled below his knees. I could have been anyone he couldn't have cared less. I'd like it to be personal when I decide to do it again. Moaning a guy's name, looking him in the eyes, hearing him moan my name as if he actually cares what it is. I want to hear a guy tell me he loves me and actually believe him, you know?"
The next part came out without my rational mind's permission. "Plus, what I wanted, or rather who I wanted, wasn't anything I could find around here."
"So your hands are warm now. What about your arms? It's freezing in here, isn't it?" The subject change was quick and jarring, but I let it happen. He wouldn't have done it unless he truly needed to, and I tried—for the sake of my sanity—not to think about why he needed to.
His hands slid up and down my arms, warming me up a bit, though all the blood seemed to be flowing up toward my cheeks. "You're always so cold, 'Chonne. I don't know how you stand it. Come here." With minimal effort, he pulled me closer to him until I was snuggled against his chest.
Every inch of his body was warm, and it was one fact I had always loved about him. His fingers traced down my spine, giving me goosebumps. "I thought you said you were cold."
"Oh..." He pulled away from me the tiniest bit. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I can..."
"As long as you're doing everything you can to warm me up, you can sleep wherever you want." Pressing my nose against the base of his neck, right above the collar of his t-shirt, I felt the cold instantly disappear. It was all enough to cause me to ease closer to sleep quickly. "God, you're so warm, Rick. I love it." My words were barely comprehensible between my tired slur and my face pressed against him.
An awkward chuckle shook his chest. There was a small silence before his hand slipped down my spine until he reached the hem of my shirt. Slowly, he curled his fingers underneath it and moved upward, finally resting his hand on my lower back. I gasped lightly before letting out a small sigh of approval. The warmth was indescribable. It seemed to shock my whole body, moving downward until moisture formed beneath the shorts he'd let me borrow.
Kittens and fluffy bunnies—cute things—brotherly love. He pulled me a bit closer. "Goodnight, Michonne." He whispered, his breath tickling my ear as his fingers stroked my back.
"'Night, Rick."
Again, as with the first night, I lay there, falling deeper into sleep and almost reaching it before he leaned closer to me, his lips close to my ear. "Sixty-three." He whispered. He was answering the question he had asked me. It was a lot, an unbelievably high number, but far from an unfamiliar one.
It was sixty-three when he left.
Toward the end of the week, I was helping with some dishes when David came down the stairs. "Michonne, come here a second." He called. I rinsed off the plate and followed him up the stairs into his mother's room, where he slept during his stay. "I want to talk to you about something." He closed the door behind me, motioned for me to sit on the bed, which I did, and sat facing him.
"We're going out tonight, and it's probably going to get bad. We found out the guy's family hired some high-priced attorney. Those guys are seriously trying to get him off with just a fine or some bullshit. Rick wants to come when we go see the lawyer, and we're definitely going to make a trip to see his family. I don't think he'll stay put another day here while we go and deal with this. He might see and hear some stuff that he might not recover from. He's already having such a hard time, and I don't know how much more he can handle." He said, almost out of breath.
"David, what the hell is—"
"Just listen. It's not illegal, but he's going to need you tonight to really be there for him."
"What's happening?"
"Mimi, you have no idea what it's been like. They show pictures and go over their reports and briefs with horrendous detail, and I don't want Rick to have any part of it, but if he's there, he's going to have to deal with what happened, and I know he's not ready for all of the details. Then this shit with the family. I can't imagine what will go wrong with that, but something will happen. I really need you to be here for him."
"I don't even know what to say, David."
"Mimi, this is about our mother." His words were gentle yet firm.
"I know. I know." It took me a second to organize my thoughts. "I'll be here. I'll wait up, no matter how late you get back. Just get back, okay? Try not to do anything crazy. Please, for me."
He embraced me then, his arms not feeling as good around me as his youngest brother's, but it was a comforting hug nonetheless. "Rick is one lucky bastard. I wish I had a girl like you waiting up for me." He said it with complete sincerity and followed it with, "When are you going to stop sleeping in his bed and come stay a night in mine? I could show you a thing or two Rick doesn't even know is possible."
"Oh, Davey, always so damn charming. But I don't know if you can compete where it matters most. Sometimes you need more than just the 'motion of the ocean.'" I held my hands apart about ten inches, giving him a joking wink and standing to leave.
David," I stopped just before I reached the door and turned back to him. "What you said last week about Rick..."
"About him loving you?"
"Yeah... I... Did you mean..."
"No, I didn't mean like a brother. I love you like a brother; despite how much I tease you and whatnot, that's the only way I see you. He loves you like you are the only girl worth knowing. He just doesn't know how to show it. Next to him, you're the one who knows best how he grew up. He never saw a functional relationship in his life. When we left here, you were all he would talk about."
"He was touring with his band. There must have been plenty of girls around who..."
"Who wanted nothing more than to get into a musician's pants? Of course, there were. There are skanks and cheap whores everywhere. And no, Rick didn't pay any attention to them. No matter how much I'd tease him for being queer, he never got with any of them.
"And, I don't know why he'd pick you over them. You won't even wear a damn dress, let alone something sexy, always with your librarian's bun. He must think the world of you." My heart was leaping in my chest. Though I did everything I could to contain myself. Rick had really meant the number when he'd said it. I gave David a little more than a flickering smile before leaving the room.
That night was one of the longest of my life, though they didn't return as late as I had expected. The clock was only a bit past eleven when Rick's bedroom door opened, and he stepped in, closing the door again behind him. He didn't look at me but shrugged off his coat and sat down, starting to untie his shoes.