Calvin was close to falling asleep on his bed with his hands behind his head. The loud ticking of the clock's hands reminded him it was midnight.
He tossed and turned frantically, incapable of closing his eyes without thinking about her.
He was flipping his pillow over for the one-hundredth time when the phone rang in the kitchen.
Whether it was instinct or wishful thinking, Calvin knew it was Genevieve.
He got out of bed at an alarming speed, ran across the living room in the dark, and slammed his shin on the end of a coffee table.
Calvin's throat threatened to howl in pain, but he grabbed his shin as he picked up the phone on the third ring. "Genevieve?"
There was a grainy silence on the other end of the phone. "Calvin?"
He stayed quiet. Maybe it was wishful thinking.
"How did you know it was me?"
He smiled. That voice, he couldn't mistake it.
But her tone wasn't alive and airy. Something was wrong.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She sniffed. "I can't be alone right now. Can you come over?"
His stomach dropped. The pain in his shin was gone. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."
"Thanks," her voice cracked.
***
Calvin ran two stop signs and a red light. The usually thirty minutes it took to get to Genevieve's house were cut in half.
He parked his car behind hers in the driveway, blocking the sidewalk. Calvin knew a parking ticket would be waiting for him on his windshield, but he didn't care.
On his way to the porch, he wondered what could have happened. What did she mean she couldn't be alone?
And why did she call him? A woman as gregarious as Genevieve must have other friends besides him. And what of her family?
It wasn't the time to ask those questions, but Calvin couldn't help it. It was embarrassing how little he knew about Genevieve.
He rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing.
After twenty silent seconds, he rang it again. Still nothing.
Fear crackled inside him like a fire. He gave the door knob a turn, and sure enough, it opened.
That's never good.
He walked inside and closed the door behind him. The entire house was dark, save for light from the streetlamps coming in through the window.
Calvin tiptoed through the hall. "Genevieve?"
One of his hands was balled into a fist. The other ran along the wall, searching for a light switch.
A weak voice whimpered in the living room. "Keep the lights off."
It didn't sound like Genevieve.
Calvin was prepared to fight against anyone who dared to hurt her. "Who said that?"
A sniffle traveled across the hardwood floor. "In here."
Calvin took slow steps into the living room.
Genevieve was hugging her knees on the couch, curled up into a blanket-covered ball. That familiar baby blue shirt collar stood out to him. She was wearing his shirt.
The streetlamp light didn't reach her face, but Calvin was sure it was her.
He found an empty wine bottle and a single wine glass on the coffee table in front of her.
The sight upset him, but he reminded himself to be calm. "Did you finish that entire bottle of Chardonnay?"
Genevieve wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand. "It was Riesling."
Calvin rolled his eyes. You're earning yourself a spanking, Genevieve Millen.
An arousal shiver sprouted from his core.
Focus, Leblanc. He took a seat on the other end of the couch.
Genevieve tucked a few loose hairs behind her ear.
Calvin didn't recognize the face that looked up at him.
Genevieve's face was a funeral. Her eyes were bloodshot red, so much so that he couldn't find the blue in them. Tear residue glistened on her cheeks. All the Riesling made her neck and shoulders blush.
Like a post-nightmare child, she nestled her head into Calvin's chest.
He didn't understand why, but feelings of sadness and despair began to fill his heart like an empty glass. Whatever was causing her sadness was contagious.
Calvin wrapped his arms around the top of her torso and pulled her tightly to his chest. "I don't know what's on your mind, but whatever it is, I'm here."
Genevieve closed her eyes, breaking into an encore sob.
Calvin didn't know what to do. All he wanted was to cry with her. No. Be a man. She needs that.
After a few minutes, her broken voice interrupted the hiccups and sniffles. "Our business is going to fail, isn't it?"
He spoke to her like a gentle healer. "Fail? No. Why would it fail?"
"Maybe karma won't get back to me through romantic failures."
Calvin sighed. He wanted to find Pablo and beat him to a pulp.
"Maybe all my business failures are karma. Maybe never succeeding in business is how life is getting back at me."
Her arms locked behind his back. "I just don't know when my penance will be over, or if it ever will be."
Calvin's arms tightened around her, as if pressure from his body to hers was the magic formula to making her feel better.
He searched for comforting words, but his mind replayed what Genevieve said. All my business failures?
The realization should have come sooner. You're not her first. "How long has it been since you started a business?"
"It was years ago. It's not worth discussing."
His hand slid across one of her cheeks, wiping away leftover tears. "Maybe if we talk about it, you'll realize there's no bad karma out to get you."
She smiled up at him. "My last business partner, Bera, was a lot like you."
His jealousy awoke from its slumber, but he pushed on. Bera could be a woman. "And what happened? Why did the business fail?"
"Let's just say he started making decisions with his heart, not his head."
Damn. "Did he love you?"
"He adored me."
"And you didn't love him?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't."
Calvin's heart was aching, a clear signal that he should change the subject.
He lifted her chin up. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
"No. Just stay with me."
The words were hero fuel.
She brought her hand to her forehead. "I just want to go to sleep, but I can't with all these thoughts racing through my head."
"You want me to tell you a bedtime story?"
Genevieve managed to laugh. She pinned her chin on his chest. "Could you stay a while, just until I fall asleep?"
Calvin made himself comfortable on the couch. "Sure."
She stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling at his arm to get him to his feet.
He became a pre-pubescent schoolboy again."Wait, you mean in your bedroom?"
"Where else?"
He hesitated. "Genevieve, I don't know."
She rolled her eyes. "We've shared bedsheets before. Come on."
There were no hints of intimacy in her request, but he became just as nervous as if there were.
Genevieve hugged the blanket closer to her body and led him to her room, uncharted territory for Calvin.
The bedroom was everything he was expecting. Despite the darkness, he saw clothes everywhere; on the floor, the bed, the dresser, and anything that could function as a hook.
"Take your shoes off," said Genevieve.
Calvin sat at the head of the bed and untied his shoelaces.
Genevieve stood before him, smiling down at him like she had pranks brewing in her head.
His eyes drank her in, beginning with her defined calves, then her thighs, then whatever parts of her body were covered by his work shirt. His inspection stopped there, interrupted by his desire to undo the buttons and unwrap her.
He swallowed. "What?"
Genevieve pushed him down, pressing his back against the mattress. She air-straddled one of his legs, her hands planted by his shoulders. Her long hair cascaded to the sides of her face.
Calvin stopped breathing. He looked up at her and begged her for mercy with his eyes. Was this an invitation? A punishment? A warning? Her eyes were too serious to tell. Whatever you do, don't sit on me.
Without a warning, her mouth exploded into laughter. Eyes. Nose. Lips. Retrace. "You're such a prude."
He laughed weakly. "Right."
"Right"? That's the best you've got?
Genevieve rolled off to his side. She fluffed her pillow and tucked herself under the covers.
Calvin joined her. He slid his arm under the pillow she rested her head on, bringing his free arm around her waist. She felt so good to hold.
She brought her back to Calvin's front. "Things will be so different once you find a wife."
He basked in the sound of her breathing. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes you are. Once you're married, we can't share a bed like this."
No. The mere thought was enough to make him cry.
"Are you going to miss me?" she said.
He pressed his lips to the back of her head. "Mhm."
"Say it."
He sighed. "Yes, I'll miss you."
She giggled in satisfaction.
He would do anything if his reward was hearing that sound. "Are you going to miss me?"
Her tone was suspicious. "No."
What? "No?"
"Nope."
Calvin was sure she meant it in jest, but it hurt just the same. He sighed again to relieve the pressure in his chest.
Genevieve touched the hair on Calvin's knuckles. "Are you sad that I won't miss you?"
He shrugged. "It is what it is."
"You know I'm kidding, right?"
Calvin couldn't speak, lest he wanted to reveal the lump in his throat.
She turned her torso to face him. "Calvin, look at me."
He couldn't.
She grabbed his jaw and turned his head to face her. She spoke with a commitment Calvin never heard before. "Not having you around is going to drive me crazy."
He searched her eyes in the little light coming in through the window. These were the things he lived for.
"Do you think anyone is willing to come over to comfort me? Do you think I let anyone know what I sleep in?"
Don't do it. "What about your family?"
Genevieve didn't move an inch. "I'm dead to them."
Calvin waited, hoping she would burst out laughing like she did a moment ago.
She remained frozen. "Ask me. I know you're curious."
He was holding her in his arms while she wore close to nothing, and he still didn't have the courage to ask.
"It was right after they found out about Pablo. It caused my family's reputation a lot more damage than I imagined."
Calvin said nothing, just listened.
Her voice was collected and professional, almost too professional. "My oldest brother Gary threw me out. My parents let him."
"When was the last time you talked to them?"
Genevieve thought for a moment. "Let's see. I think it was before my missionary trip to Mexico, right after college."
This was news. "I didn't know you were religious."
"I'm not. I just wanted to travel for free."
Oh. Odd as it was, he felt a devious laugh coming on. A little embarrassed, he allowed his lips to release it.
Genevieve joined him.
His squeaky laugh died first. "You're unbelievable."
After a few minutes of dark silence, the bedroom was filled with the rhythmic sound of her breathing. She let out a heavy, post-sob sigh in her sleep.
Calvin looked down at her. She was fast asleep.
He didn't know what he was becoming. He didn't know apathy any longer. Or fear. Or loneliness.
Say it to yourself, just this once. You can say it out loud later.
He wasn't ready. It was too soon.
When you know, you know. Say it.
Calvin took a hard, deep breath. He counted backwards from three.
He looked down at the new love of his life.
I love you, Genevieve.
The words took his breath away. It was another safe unlocked.
I love you. I love you. I. Love. You.
The words didn't sound foreign, as he was expecting. They made sense, as if they were the only three words he knew.
Like a human being turned mythical creature, Calvin felt cravings he never knew he could feel.
He needed to taste her mouth, to hear her say she loved him back, to see and touch the places on her body reserved only for the men she loved, an exclusive club.
Calvin wasn't sure if he should stay or leave. His heart refused to be anywhere Genevieve wasn't, but his head needed to plot how he was going to make her his new family.
He stayed awake, for hours, doing nothing but watching her sleep.
He imagined a future, one that included accompanied trips to the grocery store, disagreeing over curtain colors, and anniversary jewelry.
And kids, three or four. A little Genevieve and two boys, three additional United States citizens with his last name and their mother's blue eyes. At last, he'd have an excuse to watch all those children's Christmas movies.
He didn't trust himself in that bedroom. He couldn't be there another minute. Far too many emotions ran through his veins.
He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. I'm sorry, love. I can't stay any longer.
He carefully got out of bed, grabbed his shoes, and left the bedroom. He was buzzing with a high so intense, he swore it would kill him.
It was a mystery how he slid his shoes on, got in his car, and started his drive to the apartment. He couldn't call it home anymore. Home was asleep in her bed.
The DJ on the car radio announced the time. Four forty-five in the morning.
Calvin felt as fresh as a daisy. He drove with the windows wide open, allowing the spring air to make his outsides feel like his insides. He was invincible, completely bulletproof. He couldn't name a thing in the world that scared him.
Just then, an idea took over. Before he could reconsider, he drove the Mustang into the highway ramp, the one headed west, towards the beach.
He turned the music up at the sound of Frankie Valli's falsetto, and even laughed at his own failed attempts to imitate it.
Once he got to the beach, his car became the only one in the parking lot.
He stepped into the cool, beach morning. The sound of crashing waves and drowsy seagulls tried to shoo him away, but couldn't.
Calvin stood before the Pacific Ocean. His penned-up energy needed release.
Without regards for decency, he let out a primal battle cry.
The vibration of his vocal cords was almost soothing. Why did he spend his entire life being quiet? Screaming like an ape was silly, but nothing could take away the invincible feeling he possessed.
Genevieve would be his. He'd find a way.
Calvin walked towards the waves, kicking off his shoes on the way.
I love you, Genevieve.
He took off his jacket and shirt and unbuttoned his pants.
And I promise you, love, I'm going to be a better man.
Calvin arrived before the crashing waves in nothing but his socks and shorts. The part of his brain responsible for assessing risks wasn't working.
For both of us.
He took a step back, then released his bottled up energy, running head first into the ocean water.
Jellyfish were no match for him now.