Denial's Not Just a Feeling

Theoretically Speaking of Happiness

                She glanced at the clock again. “Six minutes.”

                “Don’t continue.”

                She looked back down at him. He was shaking his head, seeming to want to say or do something, but was restricting himself from doing so.

                “Cal, what’s wrong?”

                He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

                “Yeah.”

                He blew out a breath, moving his hair more to the side with his free hand. “I’m happy you’re leaving.”

                “No you’re not,” she said flat.

                He sighed. He was doing that a lot. “You’re leaving early, why wouldn’t I be?”

                “Cause you’re not coming with me.”

                “Well . . . those people paid a lot for you. I knew you were worth a lot.”

                She frowned, knowing that he was right. She hardly complained, even through the pain, did all of her work, used manners, even if they were sour and helped the young ones. She was valuable. She just wished she knew of the new household she was going into and if they would allow her to leave after graduating high school. She never mentioned that thought.

                “Don’t do that.” She shrugged. “Who knows? They would be really nice people that get you new clothes, things for school, your own room—“

                She snorted. “What fantasy world are you living in?”

                “One where you’re happy,” he said bluntly.

                “Are you in it?” She lowered her voice, taking another quick look at the clock she cursed under her breath. “Two minutes.”

                “Marc stop.”

                She shook her head and blinked, jumping off the counter without landing on Cal’s feet, she leaned her sore back against the counter. She stared up at him. He stared down at her.

                “I’m all packed and ready to go.”

                She placed her backpack by the entrance of the doorway. Everything she owned was in there, which wasn’t much, just the minimum amount of clothing, an old stuffed artic wolf, a wallet with hardly any money and miscellaneous she had collected over the years of being here: an old pocket watch that barely worked, a suicide letter from a passed friend, various burnt pictures and more useless belongings.

                “Marc—“

                “I’m fine.” She nodded, flashing him a smile she hoped would pass as something he would believe as confident.

                He said nothing. She grabbed him by the back of his neck, standing on her toes. She pulled harder than she should of, but she knew he knew better than to question any of her actions, even her most random. He leaned down, craning his neck to the side, closing his eyes.

                “Marcella!”

                She noticed Cal freeze and start to up her eyes, but she was determined to finish her in task project. She quickly clashed her lips to his, leaning into him. He automatically wrapped an arm around her. She dug her nails into the back of his neck before pulling apart. She opened her previously closed eyes to look up at Cal’s sad ones. She released her hand from the back of his neck hastily before anyone could see what they had done.

                “Bye.” She walked over to the doorway, crouched down to get her backpack, flung it over one shoulder, holding onto the strap. She glanced over her shoulder at Cal. He had his back up against the counter watching her. “You better be the same virgin you when I see you again because if you aren’t your ass will be mine. Got that?”

                The corners of his mouth twitched up. He gripped the counter with both hands, almost turning his knuckles white. “You don’t scare me.”

                She raised an eye brow and cock out one hip. “Maybe not, but your ass is still mine.”

                He chuckled. “In every way.”

                She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been hanging around Troy and Al way too much.”

                “It’s not their faults.”

                She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, perverted fuck,” she said the last part as a mumbled, but not realizing it was loud enough for Cal to hear.

                He said as she started through the doorway, “I heard that!”

                “Bye Cal!” She waved a dismissing hand behind her as she turned a corner out of the kitchen.

                “Bye Marc,” he whispered, looking longingly at the doorway.