a heart's end

Twenty Eight

Anaelle

There I stood. Lonely. Cold. Nothing, not even the moon hovering over me can save me now. I grasp the cold metal in my hands and carefully climb over the edge. For being the Brooklyn Bridge, it wasn't crowded. And very easily accessible to get to the ledge. That made me sad. There was actually nobody surrounding me. I preferred it that way. I wouldn't want to let anybody see me die and cause them the pain and confusion I have felt my whole life.

Donte's mother is dead, Donte is dead, and he knows about Monty and I. He knew about Monty and I. I'm a monster. A horrible, horrible monster. I deserve to rot in the pits of hell, begging Satan to spare me a sip of water months at a time.

The metal ledge has gotten warm under my touch. I lean over the edge, hundreds of feet of air lay between me and my demise. I take a deep breath. I hope my mom cries at my funeral. My dad will spit in my grave. Nobody else will be there, just my parents wallowing over their excuse of a bitter, soul crushing daughter.

I laugh because I know this is the end. I smile because it's over. And I scream as I jump, the only other noise is Monty screaming behind me.

"Anaelle! Anaelle wake up!"

     I don't remember screaming, but I know I stopped when Monty woke me up. I grabbed his face in my hands and looked him in the eyes, I probably looked like a wild animal to him. I felt like a wild animal. Sweaty, breathing heavily, clammy skin. He grasped me in his arms and I sobbed. It was all just dream. I didn't kill myself. Donte and his mother are both alive. It was just a dream.

Thanksgiving morning was when the excitement really began. Marco barged in the room at 7:30 and jumped on top of us. Monty laughed but I could've slammed him against the wall.

     "It's about to start!" He squealed. "Come on, guys!!"

    We got up after a second and went downstairs. I thought everyone was going to be in their sleep clothes but everyone except me and Monty was dressed nicely. Mathis and his father had on khakis and polos, with slicked hair and a cap on. Monty's mother had on a short dress, her short curly gray hair seemed less puffed up as well.

   And the smell. It smelled like heaven downstairs. The table was extravagant, so many little trinkets and decorations all lined up down the line. The people, the food, and football. Traditions. My family never celebrated Thanksgiving. Who were they to thank when they already thought they were high up? I remember asking my dad when I was little why we never did the holiday traditions I saw on the TV.

     "We are to good for that, Anaelle. Thanking one another is a sign of weakness, and the one thing I am not is weak." He smirked and then sent me upstairs. I remember crying and asking God why I had to be with these people. He never responded.

    "Well, don't y'all look mighty fine!" Monty's mom laughed and pulled Monty in for a hug. She was marinating a turkey and already had pans in the oven.

    "We're about to get dressed, Mom. What time are we expecting to eat?" He peeked under some tin foil and Mrs. Kingsley slapped his hand away.

     "I swear you're just like your older brother! Stop trying to eat the food!"

    "I'm just trying to help!" Monty chuckled at his mom while holding a roll in his hand.

    "If you want to help, you can go turn on the thanksgiving parade for Marco in the living room. And then get dressed."

    After Monty turned on the parade, we both went upstairs to get dressed.

    "I didn't pack anything to fancy." I told him once we shut the door.

    "Um, me either." He tossed his clothes on the bed, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. He suddenly looked at me with a very serious expression.

    "What?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

    "I can wear my cowboy boots!" He laughed and laid on the bed. I laughed with him at the thought of Monty in boots. It was so ironically funny.

   "You do not have boots! That is so stereotypical!" I slapped his chest playfully and he pointed to his closet.

    "They're in there."

"Well I think you should wear them." I grinned. "You would look so sexy." I playfully crinkled my nose.

"Now would I?" He grabbed my waist and pulled me to the bed. His breath hit my neck and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.

"Monty." I rolled over to where I was facing him. Our faces were so close I could reach and kiss him.

"Yes?" He put his hand behind my head and started stoking my hair.

"Have you ever had sex before?"

His cheeks instantly turned beet red and I felt bad for embarrassing him. But it was a question, and a question I had been wondering for a while. It wasn't a bad thing to be a virgin. I feel like it's accepted now more than ever.

"You know the answer to that Anaelle." He took his hand away from my hair and put it over his face. "Remember that night at Auden's place on the balcony you asked me if I've ever kissed a girl and I said no? Do you remember?"

I didn't think about that. If he hasn't even kissed a girl, he probably never slept with one either.

"I remember. I'm sorry for embarrassing you."

"You didn't embarrass me."

"Your face says otherwise." I poked his cheek and he looked at me with that smile I love.

I felt giddy that he's never experienced sex with anybody. I feel like if he had, he wouldn't be as innocent and pure. He wouldn't be the Montgomery that I love.

Wait... love? Maybe I care for him, I like him. I don't love him. I don't love anybody, not even Donte. I grew to hate the world, and part of the world was Monty. But I don't hate him.

And as I watch him strip down to his underwear, his body has a slight hint of muscle but not enough to notice, I realize there is something more. As I watch him as he watches me strip down, exposed breasts and all, there is much more than lust in his eyes. Donte never watched me like Monty does, and not even on this occasion. I catch Monty staring at me all the time with those soulful brown eyes. The same ones that watched me at that club, the same ones that watched me cry, watched my violence, watched my wrath. My vulnerability unraveled before those brown eyes and left me stripped down to the cold, shaken core. And he picked me up in those warm, loving arms. He dried my tears and showed compassion.

And as we gathered around the table for Thanksgiving later on, the atmosphere was loving and warm and one that I wouldn't want to leave, ever. I wanted this feeling of belonging to last forever. And we bowed our heads and said a long prayer to a God I haven't believed in for a long time. But whether it be God, or a lot of luck, or the atoms in this universe I knew one thing for sure.

I am in love with Montgomery Edward Kingsley.