Chapter 15
Dreams of my last night in Paris flood into my mind when I try to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see their hands, mouth, and other things on and... in me. I can still slightly feel Javier's kiss on my lips and Damien's hand running down my body.
As good as these dreams are, they are making it hard for me to sleep. Every time I try to go back to sleep, I wake up instead feeling hot and bothered below.
I hadn't heard from any of them since they left earlier that morning after they helped me settle in from the trip. I debated many times whether I should call, but I never got the courage to do so.
"Just to check in," I told myself as I paced back and forth in my room.
I dialed their numbers and hung up so many times I couldn't even count. Mark walked in after checking up on Trinity and laughed at my anxiousness.
"Do you think I should call?" I asked about to dial one of their numbers again.
"No!" he snatched the phone out of my hand before I could dial. "April calm down. They'll call you. Besides, they literally left like thirty minutes ago."
I tried to take my phone back but he held it above his head so that I couldn't reach it.
"No no no. I will not let you do something stupid. Now I have to go to the studio, but you stay here and unpack, and DON'T CALL THEM! You know what on second thought I don't trust you. So I'm taking your phone with me."
He started walking away, but I quickly intercept him.
"Wait! What if I have an emergency?"
"Pray."
And so here I am restless all night.
"Ugh," I groan flopping back on my bed.
This is going to be a long night.
~
I walk to the kitchen to go make some coffee. As hard as I tried last night sleep was something that I couldn't do peacefully. As a result, I am still incredibly fatigue.
When I get to the kitchen Mark is already there, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. When he sees me he pulls out another cup for me.
"Oh gosh you look terrible," he mocks passing me the cup.
"Ugh! I didn't get much sleep last night. Did I get any call last night?"
I take a sip of the coffee, the hot liquid moves down my throat warming my insides.
"If you're asking if any of your boyfriends called you, the answer is no."
"They aren't my boyfriends," I protest. "How would that even work?"
"It's worked for me," he smirks giving me a wink.
"Speaking of, you and Trinity have been getting offaly close with each other. It is serious?"
"You know me I'm never serious."
"Oh come on Mark. You must feel something. I've never seen you spend that much time with a girl, and I don't count," I add in when I see him about to protest.
"I don't know," he sighs taking a seat on one of the stools, "she's cool but I don't know if we're there yet."
Just then the doorbell rings pulling us out of our conversation. I quickly get excited, hoping that Damien or Javier.
Hell, I hope it's both.
Instead, I open the door to reveal my mother. She looks so shiny and polished it's almost blinding.
She is dressed in a white blouse tucked into a high waist black skirt, with her blond hair is styled into a short bob, framing her face.
"Mom! What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean what I am doing here? It's Sunday, sweetie."
She walks past me through the door, letting herself in. She scans the living room then turns her head through the archway connecting the living room to the kitchen.
"Honey, this place is a mess. You should seriously think about getting a maid."
Mess?
This place has never looked cleaner. Usually, Mark has clothes thrown all over the place from having his many girlfriends over, or from throwing a party.
"I can't afford a maid mom," I inform her while closing the door.
"April who is it?" Mark shouts from the kitchen.
"It's-"
"Expecting anyone else?" my mom interrupts me, introducing herself.
She walks into the kitchen, revealing herself to Mark.
"Ah, Cora. How terrible it is to see you again," he tells her, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
Mark and my mom have a love hate relationship. Well mostly hate. Mark thinks my mom is a control freak, who is trying to make everyone as miserable as her, and my mom thinks Mark is anything evil ever.
It all started back in high school. Coming from Catholic school to a public school, I didn't have any friends. Unlike my Mark wasn't quite, he was actually quite popular with the girls and the guys. Mark was basically the school slut and he had no mind about it, nor did he care because he knew anyone who was talking bad about him, he had slept with or was already sleeping with.
When I first met him, he was actually trying to get at me too. His exact words were, "You've got a juicy piece of ass I haven't fucked yet," when I asked why he was talking to me.
After that, we became the best of friends. Mark got me to be more rebellious, much to my mother's annoyance. She thought the "friends" I had back in my Catholic school were better than Mark. She would ground me or forbid me from hanging out with Mark, but he would always find a way to sneak me out until my mother gave up.
She pretends that she hates Mark, but secretly I think she likes that he is my friend.
"Oh Mark looks like you've been gaining some weight," she said pointing at his bagel.
"Oh Cora looks like you've been aging," he combated.
"Ah," my mom gasps. She quickly turns back to look at me for reassurance.
I fiercely shook my head 'no' then glare at Mark who has an evil smirk on his face.
"Mom, what are you doing her again?" I quickly change the subject.
"It's Sunday. Have you forgotten? Church."
"Oh, mom not today. I'm still tired from the trip."
"Nonsense darling. Now go gets dressed. Mark you too!" she whirled back around to look at him.
"Me?" Mark stops midway from eating his bagel, "Uh, no."
Every other Sunday my mom drags us all to church with her. Usually, Mark and I quickly run out of the house so that when she comes by nobody is here. But this week has been so hectic, I have completely forgotten.
"Oh, mom not today. I'm still tired from the trip," I try. It's actually not entirely all lie because I am still very tired from the trip.
"Nonsense! God will replenish your strength," she brushes my complaint. "Now hurry we don't want to miss confession, and lord knows Mark has a whole roster to confess to."
I turn to look at Mark who is glaring at her with deadly eyes. If looks could kill, my mom would be torched.
~
My sundress whirls around my legs from the wind blowing as I walk up the steps to the church. The slight breeze is no match for Florida's blazing sun. The scorching rays of the sun hit the black on my dress cooking me inside it.
Great idea to wear black in this heat April!
"This thing is killing me," Mark whispers next to me while pulling on his tie.
Father Mason stands in front of the church greeting every member as they walk in. His short cut, graying brown hair, shifts from his movement and the wind as he turns to wave to me, before my mother walks towards him engrossing him in a conversation.
"April!" comes a high-pitched, accented voice behind me.
"Oh god. The devil in church herself. I'm gonna go find the fun people, if there are any," Mark tells me about to walk away.
"Wait! Don't leave me alone with her," I protest. But it's too late as Mrs. O'Brian approaches after Mark scurries away.
"Hi April," comes her high pitched squeal. "Where is Mark running to?"
"T-to the bathroom," I quickly lie.
She looks at his retreating form questioningly, then turns back to face me.
" How have you been darling," she hold my shoulder to air kiss me on both check.
"I've been good, thank you. Where's Mr. O'Brian?" I search past her.
"He's around here somewhere," she waves it off with her white glove clad hand. "But enough about him. I haven't seen you in a minute. I visited last week but Mark told me you were traveling for work. "
"Oh yes. I only got back yesterday," I inform her.
"Great you must tell me all about it."
Mark's mom is epitome of a southern bell. She's always dress classy with every strand of brown hair put in place. She's very excitable and seems to be happy all the time. Which makes me wonder how much anger she is really holding inside? She also speaks with a southern brawl, much to Mark's get annoyance who has said he wants to, and I quote, "Rip that fake accent right out her throat."
She's always dressed so stylishly, and always it in dress. I've actually never seen her wearing pants come to think of it. It makes it seem as though she is stuck in the sixties.
"Oh it's such a long story and service is about to begin soon. We should probably get inside," I quickly divert.
"Okay but I want to hear all about it afterwards."
~
I pull back the crimson curtain to kneel inside the wooden confessional. I look around the enclosed space suddenly feeling suffocated. Confession used to be so easy, but now, especially with my wild week, I'm really dreading it.
I rub my clammy hands over my dress sleeves before enclosing them in front of me and bending my head to prepare for my confession.
"Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was more than two weeks ago I think..."
As assertive as I try to sound, my voice comes out squeaky and shaky.
Great now you'll be banished to the underworld forever.
"Oh father where to begin. Well, I... I may have done a certain act out of wedlock... OKAY I HAD SEX OUT OF WEDLOCK!" I blurt out before I realize I basically just shouted it out. I lower my voice before I start again. "And it might have been with multiple people..."
I wait for him to say something, but as usual, he says nothing.
"It sort of just happened. It's not like I wanted it to happen... okay maybe I did, but it wasn't planned. It was just one day... well, actually it happened the next day too. Wait, does it count how many times you do it or how many people you do it with? This is my first time so I'm not sure. I mean what if you do it multiple times with different people in the same day? Does that still count? Or is it only for different days? And is it-"
"Ahem," an audible cough is grunted on the other side of the confessional.
See know you've annoyed the father.
I decide to cut my confession short hence I don't get a worse punishment than I already am.
"I am sorry for these and all of my sins," I conclude my confession.
"Ten Our Fathers and twenty Hail Mary's," comes father's response from the other side.
Is it me, or can I hear the judgment in his voice?
But either way, I quickly exit for the next person. I turn to see my mom waving at me from across the church once I exit with Mark standing next to her.
Great! Another person I still have to confess to.