Someone To Love

Heartaches

On the Sunday before I bare far more than my mortal soul in art class, I decide to brave the snow and grab some coffee with Lauren and Ally.

Lauren called, said there was some kind of relational emergency and that she needed a hot brunette with a great body ASAP. To be honest, I didn't like the sound of it.

Cruise has been helping his mother with repairs all weekend at both the hair salon and bed and breakfast. I'm not sure how he magically morphs into a handyman once he leaves the house, and yet the heater remains mysteriously irreparable. Although I'm not complaining. I've spent the last week lying naked in his arms with his protruding affection jammed firm against my thigh, and, well, okay, it might have slipped in a more intimate location a time or two, but he was quick to reposition himself.

I'm sure he's long given up trying to have his way with me. He probably thinks I'm asexual, that I'm not even remotely interested in him or men in general. But the truth is, I'm ready to cave. I'm one heated breath away from turning around in the middle of the night and diving into his delicious dimples. I don't care if he impales me with that power line between his legs or if it manages to jet right out of my throat in the process. Everything in me cries for his body. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. But God knows I'm waiting for something.

Per rules of the universe Starbucks is packed wall-to-wall with bodies. You'd think the only working heater in all of Massachusetts was right here in this shop, and if Cruise's home, and the classrooms at Garrison are any indication, it just might be.

The thick scent of coffee seduces me with its slightly burnt aroma, and I inhale deeply as I get in line.

"Kendall!" A loud, rather abrasive woman's voice hails me from the front. I spot Aunt Jackie waving and head on over.

"Guess who I talked to today?" she asks, offering me a big rocking hug. Her perfume and hairspray launch an assault on my senses and for a moment I lose the ability to breathe.

"Pen?" I haven't seen Pennington since our botched double date. I can't believe he had the nerve to bumble his way to second base while in a public establishment. Of course, I had the nerve to molest Cruise's hand while on a date with Pen, so I guess we're sort of even.

"No, silly." She flicks her wrist, and her diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet threatens to fall off. There's something about the way Jackie presents herself that scares me a little. Maybe it's her obvious fake lashes. I've been known to don falsies on occasion myself, but these in particular look like she plucked the wings off some poor unsuspecting butterfly, way too transvestite for this early in the afternoon. Or maybe it's the heavily penciled eyebrows that give her that perpetual look of surprise, or the thick black outline of her lips - a look I thought was canceled along with Baywatch. Nevertheless, the fifties are calling. They want their go-go boots back. "I talked to your mother!" She beams. "You'll never guess what she said."

"She's getting married." If that's the case, I think I'll skip the nuptials and cheer from the sidelines once the dissolution is on the horizon. A heavy feeling overcomes me at the thought of her racking up another tally mark in divorce court. I hate the thought of Mom getting her heart broken once again.

"Bitter much?" She puts in her order, and I wave at Ally. "Make it two!" She turns back to me. "I've got this," she whispers without even asking if I wanted a double espresso. But I'm more than thankful. At the rate I've been mismanaging my anemic funds, I might have to familiarize myself with the local soup kitchen in less than a week.

"So what's the big secret?"

"The girl is lonely." Jackie makes a face. "She got that stewardess friend of hers to get her a ticket. So she'll be out for a visit." She punctuates it by tapping me on the nose.