Nameless

9. You Don't Love Me

A sloppy wet kiss was planted on my lips. Still mostly asleep, I smiled and stretched my arms over my head, before snuggling into the warm entity beside me. I felt myself being pulled closer, and was kissed again. Slowly, reluctantly, I cracked my eyelids. Chris was grinning broadly at me, face level with mine against the pillow.

“Good morning, my gorgeous little bird,” he cooed, brushing my dark hair from my face. I blushed and averted my gaze.

“G-good morning,” I mumbled, my stomach growling. My face heated even more. He closed his eyes and laughed through his nose.

“Come on, bird; let’s go get some breakfast.” He suggested, throwing off the covers and swinging his feet to the floor. I groaned at the loss of warmth, but followed him down the stairs. When we reached the last steps, I jumped behind him and clutched his arm. “What is it?” he asked, turning his head to look at me. I aimed a shaky finger at the living room. In a rectangular box, there was a woman with brown hair, and green eyes that seemed sunken into her skull. She looked like she’d put make-up on, but it couldn’t quite hide a black eye, nor could the water bottle in her hand hide the fact that she was shaking from withdrawals as she spoke.

“Wh-why is she here? H-how did she know where I was?” I whispered, not wanting for her to hear me.

“Oh, bird. She’s not here; it’s just the television.” He assured me. “She can’t hear you, or see you either.” I relaxed a little, and we advanced to the living room. He grabbed something off of the coffee table, and I could hear what the television was saying.

“Please, if anyone has seen her, call. I just miss my baby girl so much!” the woman onscreen broke down in tears, and then another woman appeared on the television in her place.

“If you’ve seen this girl, please call the number on your screen. If you’re just tuning in, her parents think that she was involved in an underage prostitution ring, and that her pimp has kidnapped her; here’s a sketch of what he’s believed to look like.” The new woman spoke professionally, staring at me. I squeaked.

“A-are you sure that they can’t see us?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, why?” Chris’ eyes didn’t move from the screen.

“T-then how did they get a drawing of your face?” I quivered.

“I-I don’t know.” He sighed, making the screen go black. “Let’s just get some breakfast.” He started for the kitchen again, and I trailed behind him. He pulled down bowls and a box of cereal, and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and spoons from one of the drawers.  I sat at the kitchen table, watching him eat; he seemed lost in thought.

“Chris?” I tentatively reached out for his hand, “Are you alright?” he smiled at the table, but I could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded absently. I frowned.

“It’s okay not to be okay.” I nervously touched his hand; it took all I had not to recoil immediately. His head shot up, and his eyes locked onto mine.

“Bird, I’m just nervous. I mean I could be charged with kidnapping. Don’t get me wrong; I’d go to jail for you in a heartbeat, but I can’t protect you there.”

“I won’t let them take you to jail.” I assured him, surprised by how firm my voice sounded. He nodded slowly. “I’ll—I’ll even tell about my parents and Terrance if it’ll keep you out.”

“But bird, what would they do to you?” Chris looked at me worriedly. I shook my head violently, refusing to think about it.

“I don’t care about the consequences—”

“But they’ll take you away from me; I’ll go if I have to, but I don’t want them to take you away from me.” He interrupted.

“Chris, whether you’re in jail or not, we’ll have to be apart.”  I reasoned. He pounded his fist on the table, causing milk to splash from his bowl, and me to jump, jerking my hand to my chest.

“I knew something would happen; something was bound to mess this up. Why? Why can’t the universe just let me have you; why do I have to fight so hard to keep the people I love?” He cradled his head in his hands. I gasped, shaking my head vehemently. He wasn’t talking about me. He couldn’t still be talking about me; I refused to believe it. My throat felt thick, and my eyes burned as salty tears brimmed up, threatening to overflow. I had to get up. I couldn’t stay here at the table and let him see how much he’d hurt me. So I ran. I stood up so fast that the chair overturned in my rush to leave the kitchen. But I didn’t know where I was going to go.

I ended up in the backyard, where I found a swing set. My insides were too broken to marvel at the magic of finally finding one, though. I sat on one of the swings, with my back to the house, and cried. I’d never been in so much pain; it was like my entire abdomen had been slashed open with a blunt blade of some sort, and someone was whaling on my internal organs with a meat tenderizer. Composing myself wasn’t going to be an easy task; I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to approach Chris again. Fortunately or otherwise, I didn’t have to worry about that.

“Bird, what’s wrong?” Chris’s concerned voice caressed my eardrum, and I let my head sink to my chest. “Bird, what’s the matter?” he asked again when he reached me, squatting down and placing his hands on my knees for support.

“Y-you don’t love me.” I choked, refusing to look at him.

“What do you mean? Of course I do.” He said softly. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.

“No,” I gulped, voice catching on my tears, “you can’t love me. I won’t let you. Terrance loved me, and I never want that again. I thought you were different, better. If you love me, then I was wrong.” I sobbed angrily.

“Oh Lori, that wasn’t love. Love is something wonderful; it’s something that makes you ridiculously giddy, makes your heart pound every time you hear that special person’s name; it’s when your heart breaks when you see them hurting. It’s patient, kind, tender, gentle. Real. It’s sacrifice, and yeah, sometimes it hurts, but never as much or in the ways Terrance hurt you. Love is knowing someone so completely, all of their quirks and flaws, and still wanting to spend every moment by their side; it never gives up, always there to whisper encouragement. Love is all of those things and more; it’s beautiful, and if you’d only let me, I can show you what love really is.” Chris solaced tenderly. He squeezed my knees, and I let myself look at his face. “What do you say, bird?” he was trying so hard to keep the expectant look off of his face, but glimmers of hopefulness still shone in his eyes. I took a tremulous breath.

“O-okay,” I finally acquiesced, nodding slowly. Chris’s whole demeanor changed. A grin sneaked its way across his face—one that reached his eyes, his shoulders straightened, and he stood. Giddily, he picked me up and spun around, laughing. I couldn’t resist smiling myself; his happiness radiated into me.

“I love you, bird,” He exclaimed, setting me down and resting his forehead on mine, “and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

Sooooo, sorry about the almost month that it took me to update. Freaking tendency to procrastinate. Anyway, I expected for at least one person to ask this, but surprisingly no one has. So I'm going to ask you: Why do you think Chris calls Lori "bird?" Please, don't be afraid to answer, no matter how silly you may think it is; I'm interested to see what you think, or else I wouldn't have asked. ^.^