Why Me? ⚣

Chapter 13

"Is this wrong?"

Marcel looked up from his phone and towards the door, where I stood. He shot me a confused look and got up, walking towards me.

"What's bothering you?"

He gently took my hand and pulled me into his embrace. I melted into his strong arms, his refreshing presence overwhelming my senses.

"I don't know, I feel so selfish right now. I mean, we don't even know each other that well apart from the case files and I wonder if I'm overstepping boundaries. Besides, I'm pretty sure that a relationship or whatever we have is not too high up on your list of priorities."

He let go of me and turned around, opening a drawer on his bedside cabinet and retrieving his car keys.

"Let's fix that," he said and walked out the door.

After we first kissed, the following week simply consisted of lying around in each other's company, stealing pecks every few hours. In short, it was peaceful, pleasantly so.

I thought back to the times I could have felt this way. It was such a wonderful, invigorating emotion that I somehow wish I could have experienced earlier. Sharing it with Marcel felt so incredibly right, but in a strange way, it seemed slightly unfair to have never felt it before.

I looked out the window and watched as the car pulled out of the driveway and down the streets of New York City. The route didn't seem all too familiar as Marcel avoided the usual city traffic, choosing to drive through smaller, more secluded streets.

After about fifteen minutes of driving, the car hummed to a stop near a quaint little park. Marcel stepped out and opened the door as I got out, stretching my arms.

He took my hand and guided me to a quiet spot where he spread out a blanket on the grass. We sat down and he let go of my hand as I snuggled up against the trunk of a maple tree behind me.

"Hi, I'm Marcel Nixon."

I laughed, shaking my head at his antics.

"What are you doing?"

"You said that we didn't know each other enough, so I want to start with a clean slate."

"Okay, Marcel Nixon, I'm Elliott Miller."

"Hi Elliott Miller."

He smiled widely at me and I returned it, a bubbly warmth consuming me. The evening glow cast a golden hue on his features and I took a few moments to snap a mental picture of it. He was grinning from ear to ear, a faint blush dusting his features due to the slightly chill autumn breeze.

"Tell me about yourself, even rant if you want to."

I nodded and contemplated what to say. He definitely appeared to be the empathetic sort , and through a professional point of view, his boss seemed to hold him in high regard. My primary fear when opening up was that people would 'try to make it better' instead of simply lending a kind ear. It crippled me with embarrassment to think that if I spilled out my sob stories, no one would take me seriously anymore. I could tolerate jeering and bullying, but I hated sympathy.

Looking up at Marcel, I met his gaze. He didn't look piteous, showing no sign of being judgemental either. Right then, I decided that I could take that leap of faith and open up to him. 

I took his hand and held it tight, to which he brought it up and placed a gentle kiss. I blushed and fought hard to conceal my smile, proving to be unsuccessful.

Deciding not to procrastinate further, lest we spend the night in this park, I adopted a serious tone and began speaking.

"Okay, I was born and grew up in Los Angeles, California. It wasn't Hollywood, just Venice..."

This was it, there was no going back now. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and sighed, feeling pathetic about this.

"Whew, okay I'll just get to the point. Initially, my childhood was pretty good; I had a happy family and my parents got along just fine. We did what every regular family would do, whether it was going out for picnics on the beach, or make a mess of the kitchen while making gingerbread houses on Christmas."

"It was when I was around sixteen years old that my dad started to come home late every single night, looking like he was in the worst shape of his life. Nothing got past my mom, so she confronted him about it soon."

At this point, I noticed that Marcel had leaned in closer and was paying close attention to my every word. I scanned over his face, scrutinizing every detail to find anything at all that would confirm my fears, which proved to be incredibly challenging. Marcel had suddenly turned into a blank slate, showing no sign of judgement, commiseration or any emotion really. Heck, if wasn't looking straight at me with his eyes narrowed in like a fox, I would've assumed that he'd zoned out.

"So uh...yeah...um...where was I?"

"Your mother confronted your father one day about coming home late."

I was surprised at his deepened voice, which, admittedly turned me on more than it should've. His face was still set in a steely gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly as he swallowed. I decided to look away slightly for fear of my, ahem, mini me, acting up.

"Right, yeah. That night they got into a huge argument, both of them yelling their lungs out from stuff like not trusting each other to whether the other was cheating, you get the idea. I just stayed in bed, completely confused and a little scared, since they'd never fought like this before. After a while, my father managed to console my mother, which was when I crept downstairs to see her crying in his arms. He was so gentle with her, saying it was going to be alright."

Once again, I trailed off. This part was especially hard to relive.

"My father and I were incredibly close. He was there for everything, school plays, elementary school graduation, basketball games. And then he wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

I looked up at Marcel, my eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill out. He held out his hands and I buried myself in his neck, taking a few minutes to compose myself. I'd already wasted enough tears, hoping that would magically make my dad come back and it wasn't worth it anymore.

Once I was sure that I wouldn't fall apart, I turned around so that I was lying directly on Marcel. I snaked my arms around his, which were wrapped around my torso.

"A week after that, he just disappeared, leaving a note that said he loved us both deeply and that he was sorry for the bad decisions he made. In short, he'd gotten involved with the wrong crowd that put his life at stake. He left before they could come after us."

"My mom cried for days after that, while I was still in shock, trying to process it all. After she'd let the revelation sink in sufficiently, she resolved to spite me with every cell of her being. She was under the impression that I'd had something to do with his leaving, causing her happy family to tear to bits. I think it's just because I look so much like him. I guess I'll never know."

Deciding that I would wrap up my narrative there, I closed my eyes, leaning further into Marcel's embrace. His warmth enveloped me, providing a homey feeling like that of a cozy hearth on a bitter winter's day. We simply lay there, basking in the moment; for moments like these were so  few to come by.

Leaves of brilliant reds and mellow ambers fall from the trees above, adorning the landscape with a crimson radiance.

 And so, the tumultuous world fell into blissful silence.