south carolina
july 1990
***
Vada
//
There was just something about the rain.
The way it poured down on everything dry and dead, filling it up and making the earth alive again. Everything was brighter and more calm than it was when the sun shined and heated.
I could stare at it for hours and maybe imagine I was somewhere else, or someone else. Like I wasn't here and I wasn't this and maybe someone could love that I loved the rain like how they love me-
"What are you doing?"
I was constantly reminded of the harsh reality around me.
"Waiting," I answered without taking my eyes off of the rainstorm.
The motel office floorboards creak under
my grandmother's shoes as she approaches the desk. As the pitter-patter from the raindrops fell on the rooftops, down the side of the small building around us, we haven't had customers all week. I was honestly starting to worry about how this would affect business.
"Okay well, when you're done with that, could you do some work?" I finally face her, but she's not looking at me, and rather at the paperwork in her hands.
I lean back in the desk chair, it creaking under me as I do. Everything about this place was old and used. "We have no customers, what work could I possibly need to do?" I inspect my nails.
I feel her eyes on me before she sighs. "I told you, room four needs more towels" this gets my attention but I still don't meet her knowing eyes.
"probably some more shampoo samples as well." she continues.
I sigh looking up at her grey orbs that match mine. "You're being too obvious." I state.
She smiles, shrugging innocently. "Am I?" she knows even though I haven't told her anything directly.
She knows that the boy who stays in room four isn't much of a stranger to me like I pretend he is. She knows that I've had him in my room past three in the morning and that I've stayed in his more than once.
She knows, but she never pries like she wants to. She doesn't wanna cross a line like last time.
"But seriously, he really does need more supplies, he's been here for almost a month and he hasn't asked for anything." she explains and I give her a look.
"Yeah, because when would he ever admit he needed help?" I murmur looking down at my nails again.
Harry slept at the motel last night. I saw his white car parked in its usual spot from my window. But I haven't really seen him since Juliet's party two days ago.
"Don't be stubborn, Vada." Grams calls, picking up her paperwork before eyeing me. But I still don't move. "Towels, shampoo, now." she then says and I sigh out.
"But it's raining-" I say looking out the window.
"You love the rain, bring an umbrella." she says as she moves towards her private office, stacks of paper work in hand and glasses hanging off her nose.
I look out the window again, eyes traveling towards where the many empty rooms were, but land on a specific door that just so happens to be right in my view.
He wasn't here. I had no idea when and if he would return. But I could probably make it there and back without running into him.
After grabbing four clean towels and two bottles of shampoo, I don't care about an umbrella protecting me as I move across the lot and towards room four.
Rain soaks my clothes, and by the time I make it in front of the familiar door, I'm drenched.
I knock just in case but it doesn't surprise me when no one answers.
When I get the door unlocked, I seem to stand in the doorway. Like I'm waiting for him to be there in front of me, with dazed eyes and tired smiles. Curls a mess, and a cigarette placed behind his ear with another one dangling from his mouth as smoke clouds around him.
I wash the image away and every other memory I have in this room, as I finally step in and move quickly towards the bathroom.
Putting the items on the sink, I avoid my surroundings and move back out into the room where scents of him linger in the air. But then I can't ignore everything for too long because he's everywhere without being here at all.
Before I can make it out of the opened door I look towards the unmade bed and stop again.
The images of us wrapped in the white sheets with blacked out eyes and whiskey between our breaths come to me. Us sharing secrets while the sun rose over us and before the regret of anything could settle in completely.
He's in the doorway when I look up, and I'm not imagining it this time. I almost jumped out of my skin.
Standing tall the rain pours behind him, and the lighting is dark around us. I can barely meet his eyes because of how bad this looked.
"Are you done avoiding me?" he speaks first.
I clear my throat, stepping forward, still not meeting his eyes as I go to step past him. "There's fresh towels, and more shampoo in the bathroom." I explain but he blocks my way out the door.
I finally look at him as he stands there in front of me. His clothes damp from the rain, while I drip from it. "Is that all?" he asks, tilting his head.
Water drips from his forehead, his curls held back off his face with a bandanna. He's clear of bruises around his eyes or cheekbones, but the cut on his eyebrow hasn't healed yet. Still, he's the most clean of black-and purple I've seen him in weeks.
I then notice his clear eyes. "Did you need something else?" I keep my voice even.
Green eyes flash and his smile is careful. He continues to stand in my way. "For you to answer my question." then he steps forward so I have to step back.
"And why would I do that?" I keep my eyes on his.
He twists his lips to keep from smiling any bigger. "Because you're always supposed to tell me what I want to know." he remembers rules he made when he was fucked up.
I scoff stepping around him so my back is faced the opened door, he faces me again. "I'd have to care to avoid you, Harry." I state truthfully.
When he only stares back, I give him one last look before turning towards the door. The rain falls in front of me and I can't find it in myself to step out into it. I linger there with my back facing him in the doorway of the room, waiting for his footsteps to approach behind me.
"Is that another rule?" he asks instead. "No caring?" I hear the smile in his words.
Rules made everything about us more simple, more explanatory. It was why we began in the first place and I knew it would be the thing that got in the way of everything else.
"Yeah," I answered back without looking.
The rain soaks me again and this time I take my time watching it fall from the sky as I move back towards the office and further away from trouble.
My clothes are dripping and my hair is soaked when I get back inside. Looking up, I meet my grandmother's curious stare as she hands me a towel.
"I told you to bring an umbrella, or do you just like the rain that much?" She smiles, helping me dry my hair.
Her touch is warm and I close my eyes leaning into it. "Umbrellas won't protect me, grams"
"Hm." she says back looking into my eyes. "I guess if you love something so much, it's hard to be convinced you need any protection at all."
At eight p.m sharp, I watch him leave the motel lot from my window, disappearing in the darkening sky that covers us in rain. I sit and wonder when he will be back and always secretly hope he will.
When the rain stops and the sky is completely dark, I'm barely asleep when lights flash through my window and then I'm wide awake. I sit up peering behind my white sheer drapes to look out into the lot where his car is parked again.
My heartbeat picks up as I watch him stay in his car. Then turning off the engine, the car door opens and I lean further back so he won't catch me.
His shoes sound across the gravel as crickets chirp and he holds a cigarette in his mouth. As he moves towards room four, he clicks it open and when I think that's gonna be it I watch as he doesn't close the door all the way.
Another obvious invitation and I wonder how many times he's done it when I was actually asleep. I pause only for a moment staring at it like maybe I should ignore it. But I was really kidding myself if I thought I ever could again.
I slip on my converse not bothering with the laces and grab a hoodie over my shorts and tank slipping out of my bedroom and past the hallway. I successfully made it downstairs and out the front door with careful footsteps and no noises to wake up my grandmother.
I move quickly across the lot, gravel crunching underneath my sneakers as I sneak a glance back at my sleeping house just in case. Once I reach the door the number four hangs in front of my eyes. I listen in and hear low strums of the guitar behind it and instead of knocking I push open the already cracked door.
He sits on the unmade bed shirtless with his guitar in hands, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. And then his eyes glance up at mine and it's black and blue all over again. My heart sinks.
But trouble would never act differently to these bruises on his face. He looks at me like there's nothing there. He only stares, eyes on mine like he was expecting me to be here all along.
I step forward, closing the door shut behind me and leaning my back against it. And then just like last time he moves off of the bed and towards me so he's inches in front of my face.
Blacked out green is in front of me and he's silent as he latches the chain on the door so it clicks locked. The cigarette is between his lips as he blows smoke out through his nose and lips before taking the stick between his fingers.
Without taking his eyes off of mine he places the half smoked cigarette between my lips.
"Stay a while, yeah?" he asks.
The stress and tiredness clouds his eyes where dark circles and a permanent frown stares back at me. He's bruised all over again, inside and out.
I instantly wrap my lips around the end of the stick inhaling as he holds it for me. "Okay," I agree as he takes it away and I exhale smoke between us.
When the curtains are closed and the door is locked, we're shut out from the rest of the world and I feel like I can breathe freely again.
The dim light from the lamp glows around tobacco smoke and vanilla shampoo samples. It's just us. It's just him and we don't have to pretend like we do around everyone else.
"Do you like the rain?" He sits across from me as the both of us are seated on the carpeted floor.
He holds his guitar in his hands strumming a few cords before jotting down notes on the piece of paper in front of him. His eyebrows furrow and his lip curls in concentration and every time he looks up he has to move hair from his eyes as he keeps the pick between his lips.
"Yeah" I answer him wondering why he's even asking.
"Why?" he continues to wonder, keeping his eyes on his moving fingers and strings on the guitar.
I didn't know exactly why or how to even answer his question. I seriously think about it.
"Because it's real, and sometimes it's a burden." I then answer honestly.
He finally looks up at me, eyes dazed and face bruised. Curls frame his face and he watches me carefully like maybe I'm not really in front of him.
"Yeah, it's the biggest burden of all." he says
"It falls in the most inconvenient times. It's cold, and sometimes harsh." he goes on as he concentrates on his words he writes down on the scratch of paper.
"Isn't sunshine more your type?" he then wonders after a second taking another glance at me.
I smile. "It should be, shouldn't it?"
Then he shrugs muscles flexing on his arms as he lifts the guitar and puts it on the floor next to him. "But it's not, you can't help yourself."
I was starting to wonder if we were even talking about the weather version of rainstorms. Then it occurred to me that this was a lot like talking about himself.
Rain was cold, rain was harsh, rain liked to pour all of its burden on you knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
After a moment I look at him and really wonder. "Are you like the rain, Harry?"
He smiles, he really smiles. The one where his eyes are heavy and his lips curve lazily as he slowly blinks at me. "I'm a lot of things, a lot of not so good things." he confesses truthfully.
"Tell me." I ask what he always does and hope he's not as stubborn.
I watch him stand up going over to the desk to grab the bottle of whiskey. He takes a few long drinks before walking back to me, looking down and offering me the bottle. "I will when we're fucked up, that way it won't count." he admits selfishly.
I stand up looking at the glass filled with liquor before I look back at him. "Will it always be like this?"
"It's easier this way." He steps forward, offering me the bottle that makes us forget our troubles.
"I'm not supposed to do this with you anymore," I confess. "I promised myself I wouldn't let you ruin me."
It's never gonna get further than this I knew that. He knew that. But it was beginning to feel like we were both fighting it and I don't know how much more I can take.
"So, what are you doing then?" he tilts his head, eyes squinted and mouth curved cunningly.
"Hm? Why are you still here?" he steps forward again, making me step back.
The bed is straight behind me and I feel as the mattress hits the back of my knees. I stare up at him, his dark green eyes determined on mine.
"Because it's too late to do anything about it." I finally said back.
His lips pull downwards and he tilts his head in agreement. Then he takes another drink without taking his eyes off of mine. "I told you in the beginning, remember?" he says "When we were on the beach, high on drugs. I told you that you didn't really wanna know my secrets."
"It was too late then too." I finally took the bottle from him. "It was too late as soon as Li brought me to that stupid bowling alley, we both know it."
"Why are you saying this now?" he wonders.
I shrug, taking another drink. "Because it's the truth," I say "because it's the only thing there is."
"I think that's enough truth for tonight," he takes the whiskey from me and moves to sit behind me so I'm standing in front of him now.
I watch him take a drink and then my eyes travel to the night stand next to us. An orange medicine bottle with a white cap and no label on it catches my eye. I reach for it studying the small white pills inside.
"What's this?" I wonder curiously and before I can open the bottle to inspect them any further, he snatches the bottle from my hands.
"Just some shit." he answers plainly, throwing the bottle back on the table.
I always notice his half lidded eyes and slow movements and how his smiles are lazy and how he talks like he's in slow motion. I noticed because it was too familiar and I've had to deal with this before.
"I'm not stupid." I say to him as he stays sitting below me leaning on his hands behind him.
Green eyes blink slowly at me and his lips curve. "Why ask questions like you are then?"
I ignore him. "Are they prescribed?" I go against everything I just said.
His smirk widens and he fully lays down now as he breathes out a "Sure, V" uncaringly staring up at the ceiling.
"You're fucked up," I move backwards snatching the bottle from him because he shouldn't be mixing hard pills with alcohol. I take a drink instead.
"No shit," he answered bluntly, eyes still on the popcorn ceiling. "get on my level." he then says.
I scoff out and he eyes me with a smirk. "What, scared you'll have a little too much fun?" he asks cunningly.
I shake my head, setting the whiskey bottle back on the table. "Stop trying to make me so much like you." I accuse boldly because I know what he's doing. "It's not gonna work." I move to sit next to him on the bed.
He sighs out, closing his eyes. "You're right, it's just an excuse." he admits because this is what he does when he's messed up on painkillers. This is what he is too afraid to admit when he's sober.
"What is?" I wonder curiously.
"I try to find reasons to hate you, but come up with none." he starts. "Because you make me feel, you really make me feel, V." he opens his eyes to look over at me, revealing the heaviness through his irises. "And I don't like it, I want it to stop."
I look away from the intensity of his eyes and words. Instead, I scan dark inked art on his bruised skin and details about his torso I've never noticed before. Certain freckles and scars catch my eye but when I feel his warm hand on my chin my eyes lift back to his.
Heavy lidded around long dark eyelashes and blacked out green stares heavily at me. My breath catches and my heart skips and I can't help but stare back like I'm in his trace.
"You don't like that I make you feel because you don't wanna feel anything." I tell him as he continues staring into what keeps trapping him.
A moment pauses and I know he thinks I'm right.
But it would never be that simple, he would never admit it. I could rip his brain apart and study every single one of his thoughts. I'd have all the evidence in the world to prove I knew about everything he kept hidden. But he would still hold back because it's just what he knows how to do.
"Would you say this stuff to me sober?" I want to know.
He continues to stare his eyes scanning details of my face as his fingers hold me in his touch. "I'm better like this, everything is better like this." nothing he says is ever direct.
"Not if it doesn't count," I answer back to him leaning down so I'm hovering over his face now. "not if everything you say to me when you're fucked up isn't what you really mean."
His eyes drop to where my lips frown at him, and I try not to let the crack in my voice be noticeable. "You're naive if you think I don't mean it" he admits.
He's leaning up a few inches between our faces and presses our lips together softly. He kisses, once, twice before pulling me down under him. My breath catches at the fast movement and before I know it I'm looking up into his fucked up green.
Curls hang off his face as he leans down again placing light kisses on the side of my mouth. Trailing his lips across my cheek and jawline, breathing across my skin, leaving goosebumps behind.
"Isn't this enough?" he whispers under my ear breath tickling my baby hairs.
I close my eyes wondering, wondering if it's even worth all of this.
He's fucked up, he's no good, he's relentless and selfish and nothing is ever simple with him. I can't know all of what he does but he tells me what he wants and gets away with everything.
Deep down I know if he had a choice he wouldn't be like this. He would be different and so would I. But the reality of it all is that people like us didn't get to choose what we wanted. We didn't get to choose what was fair and how to feel.
I tug curls off his face revealing bruises and green eyes that have seen more than what they talk about. "Come on, V darling," he starts, lips curving and eyes darkening. "Let's ruin one another, so there's no more left of you and me."
He leans down again, curls brushing and tickling the apples of my cheeks. Our noses touch and lips brush and I taste the mint and vanilla coming off of him. His dark eyes are a promise that I'll regret letting every single care I have go, but his smile tells me nothing will ever compare.
Nothing will ever compare to him again, nothing would ever let us feel like this again. I'm determined to leave a mark on him so that when I'm gone, I'll be there forever and he'll never be rid of me and I'll never be rid of him.
Because that's how we worked. It was selfish of us. It was secrets, and lies. It was thinking things that will never be said out loud.
I make him look at me. I really make him look at me. I make myself look at him and just then everything seems to come into focus.
His green eyes are what they're supposed to be like him, they're messed up. His curls are soft and when I notice his frown I run my finger across his bottom lip.
"It's fucked up how beautiful you are," I tell him looking back at his eyes.
His breath catches for a moment and then he blinks at me. "You can't tell me things like that," he says quietly.
When I frown at him confused, he sighs out. "you're not supposed to say good things about me, remember?"
I find myself smiling. His eyes find it and just as I did before I watch and feel as he runs his thumb across my bottom lip. "It's one thing," I say "it's not like you say nice things to me.... about me." I shrug uncaringly just because it's the truth.
Green eyes snap back to mine and his eyebrows furrow. He frowns deeper. "You don't think-" he cuts himself off and then scoffs like it's ridiculous.
"You want me to tell you nice things, Vada?" a smile curves on his lips as he says it like he's teasing.
"That's not-"
"You should know by now that I'm incapable of thinking nice things," he says, watching me closely. "especially when it comes to you."
I don't know why but my heart drops. I try not to show the effect of his words on my face. But it's hard when somebody just brutally told you that they despise you so much they can't even find you attractive.
I don't mean to but my eyes glare back at him, but he's not looking at me. I watch his eyes dance around the details of my cheekbones and nose before they're glancing back down to my lips.
Then he catches my reaction and smiles cunningly. "What's the matter, baby?" he wonders.
"Thought I'd tell you how pretty you are while we braid each other's hair?" he continues being brutal and it sends red hot anger through my veins.
"Huh?" he pushes on "You wanna sit around and let me tell you how I think you're such a lovely girl, such a sweet girl and my heart flutters and flies with butterflies every time I see you?" his smirk is humorous as he says it like it's the biggest joke in the world and it only makes me more furious.
I try to shove him off of me, pushing at his shoulders but he holds me down by taking my wrists and holding them above my head. I struggle in his hold as he continues pushing.
"Thoughts like that are meant for your golden boy who kisses you in front of everybody." he then says and my eyes snap to him immediately.
"Harry, let me go-"
His eyes are dark and his look is sinister and the laugh he cuts me off with is bitter.
Then a mocking smile spreads across his face as he says "You wanna know how I think of you, V?" He ignores my glare, his grip tightening around my wrists as he leans down and places light kisses on the sides of my mouth as his lips trail to my ear.
"I think I get the point," I struggle again but he still doesn't let up.
I didn't know why he was doing this. If he really just got off on my humiliation and insulting me or if he was really trying to prove a point. "you really don't have to keep reminding me how revolting you think I am." I sigh out looking up at the ceiling now.
"Revolting?" I hear him laugh and his eyes are in front of mine again. "Not quite," he moves hair out of my eyes.
I roll my eyes at him and don't miss how he watches the action. "Fine, then tell me if it's so important to you. If it makes you feel better about yourself." I sigh out waiting for his words to sting and for me to not do anything about it.
"Vada, I don't think nice things about you, because it's damn near fucking impossible." he starts.
"You're clearly not getting what I'm saying and that's just another reason as to why," he breathes out continuing "why I probably shouldn't say-"
"Fucking hell Harry, since when are you so scared to hurt my feelings? Just say it already." I snap out at him impatiently.
He pauses. Then I watch as his lips curve as he leans down. He gives me a look before he speaks out his voice low and eyes dark."You constantly cloud my head, my dreams are filled with you." he starts.
"You like this, under me while these," he runs his fingers over my lips "scream out my name so fucking perfectly, while I fuck your sweet little cunt, over and over again thats wrapped so perfectly around me like I'm supposed to be there forever."
"I think of you with my hand wrapped around myself, when I'm so hard it's painful. I come hard, screaming into my pillow thinking about how sweet you taste and what it would feel like to have your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock while I fuck your mouth and how my cum would look dripping down your perfect face." as he says it he taps my chin like he's imagining it all right now.
"How's that for nice?" his dark eyes blink to mine.
I forget how to breathe and it's definitely not something I'm expecting him to say. My eyes are wide as I stare at him and don't miss the dryness in my throat and the heartbeat between my legs from the intensity of his words.
I swallow hard not being able to take my eyes off of the intensity of his. I can't find the words to say, so I don't say anything. What was I supposed to say to that? Thank you? Fuck no.
"What, you didn't think I thought you were attractive or something?" he gives me a look, raising an eyebrow at me. "Maybe it's not in the nice way you were thinking, but trust me V, it's way fucking more than that."
I look down, twisting my lips in thought as he gently lets go of my wrists. "I just, I didn't-" I try as he lifts the hem of my hoodie off of my stomach, lifting up the sides and pulling it completely off of my head. I lose my train of thought.
My cheeks redden because I'm only wearing a thin cotton tank top underneath and I never sleep with a bra so I'm completely exposed under thin material. He stares, he really stares and it makes me squirm underneath his heavy gaze.
Dark green eyes hover over me as he sits on his knees in front of me. They travel up and meet mine and the small smile he gives me makes my heart skip. "Wanna forget for a second?" he stays where he is but I feel him all around me.
I second guess, I always do. "I don't think I- I mean I just-"
He gets what I mean, and passes me the whiskey bottle from the nightstand. "Drink up, I wanna touch you." he says.
I take long drinks until my vision blurs and the liquor makes me feel warm. And when the patter of the rain sounds again outside, it pours above us and taps on the windows. I feel completely safe when his finger tips touch me.
"How's this for nice?"
***