Everything Slips Away

Mrs. Sanders’ smile ate up her entire face. Her hair smelled like pasta sauce and garlic bread when she gave me a hug. She wrapped her arms around Abby once more and pushed a container of pasta at us. “I’m so glad you stayed for dinner!” she gushed. “Amy, Val and I are outnumbered by the boys; it’s nice to have another chick in the mix.” She smiled warmly. I liked Matt’s mom, she was what I expected the head of the dance team at school to be like when she grew up, that mom type of peppy that always mortified the son or daughter.

“Thanks for the pasta Mrs. Sanders, it was delicious.” Abby gushed. I had to hand it to the girl; she knew how to deal with overwhelming personalities.

We both backed up so we were on the porch. “Drive safe.” We promised that we would and shuffled to the car. I yanked open the door and climbed inside, shoving the keys in the ignition once Abby had shut her own door.

“What did you think kiddo?” I asked, backing out of the driveway.

“I love it; I’m officially getting your name tattooed on my ass Bri.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Is that supposed to be a complement?”

“Yeah, I’ll have the first ever Brian Haner tattoo.” I rolled my eyes.

“I want to be there when you get it.” Abby shot me the thumbs up and switched the Green Day CD out, replacing it with a Joan Jett CD.

Thirty minutes later I was lying in Abby’s bed, my arms crossed behind my head. Abby’s tape player was belting out Billy Joel’s ‘New York State of Mind’. I watched Abby as she swayed back and forth to the piano intro. By the time I had knocked on the window Abby had taken a shower, put on her pajamas and started listening to music. Her baggy sweat pants covered her bare feet, occasionally her toes would peak out from under the fabric. She put one front in front of the other, swinging her hips to the beat and jumped back. She turned on the balls of her feet and jumped, scissoring her legs in the air. She looked silly but I couldn’t laugh, something about the way she moved like I really wasn’t there was beautiful. It was the type of dance you dance in front of your mirror to a song you liked as a kid. She turned again, this time her legs were positioned like the number four, I was pretty sure it was called a pirouette.

The song ended and the next began. “Bri come dance with me.”

I shook my head, “Naw, I like watching you.” She pouted and crossed her arms under her breasts.

“Please Bri?” I sighed and slid out of bed. The carpet felt soft under my feet, almost welcoming. Abby put her arms around my neck and began to sway. My hands rested on her hips, I could feel the way her muscles moved under her skin. She rested her head on my chest, putting us closer together. She sang along softly, the vibrations of her voice tickling my skin. “She's ahead of her time, Oh--and she never gives out, and she never gives in, she just changes her mind.” I hummed along, and pulled Abby closer. It was an innocently intimate moment and I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every second of it. The song ended, the tape player hummed, clicking off. She looked up at me, her chin still resting on my chest. “Thanks for dancing with me.”

“Sure.” I took her warm hand in mine, savoring the feel of her flesh. We both climbed into bed, settling into the spots that were so familiar to us. It suddenly hit me that this was our last year like this, next year she would be off at college and I would be doing god knows what.

She twisted back to flick off the light, covering us in darkness. We automatically turned on our sides, facing each other. Our breathing was soft, comfortable and calm. “Nona thinks we’re fucking.” I covered my mouth with my hand; I could see that conversation in my head. Abby’s fist connected with my shoulder. “She bought me condoms and gave me a safe sex lecture.”

“I can totally imagine her doing that. Did she make you practice on a banana?” Nona was the most eccentric woman I had ever met, she may have been in her late seventies physically but she was a teenager at heart.

“No, but she did say that we would have adorable babies.” I chuckled.

“We would have cute babies.” I agreed. “We’d have to have a girl; she would have your freckles,”

“And your eyes and hair.” She ran her fingers through my short locks like she was trying to prove a point.

“Your lips.” I tapped her upper lip.

“Your nose,” she ran her index finger down the bridge of my nose. “And your guitar skills.”

“Your brains though.” We leaned forward so our foreheads were touching.

“I’m only having one kid for you Haner, there is no way I’m going into labor twice.” We let our noses touch. My larger thinner nose against her button nose. Just the feel of our skin touching made goose bumps make their presence known along my arms.

“But we have to have a boy too so we can name him Darrell.” Abby chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

“Can’t we just name the girl Darrell?” Her legs brushed against mine under the covers. Heat rose up my body, igniting every nerve, making every fiber of my being hyper aware of how close Abby was to me. How easy it would be for me to press my lips to hers. My hand moved up the side of her thigh to rest on her hip, I let my thumb brush the skin that was exposed between her pants and her t-shirt.

“I suppose,” we lapsed into silence for a moment, just listening to the barely there sound of my thumb brushing her skin. “Abby…have you ever actually had sex?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, she was eighteen and the fact of the matter was that she probably had fucked someone. But a part of my brain nagged at me, this was Abby after all. The girl who didn’t date because she was too busy with school, piano and me. I took a deep breath and waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” even in the dark I could see the look she was giving me. It was a mix between confused and amused, maybe there was a little hurt in there somewhere. I let out the breath. “But I don’t really count them as ‘having sex’ per say. I don’t remember the first time; I was drunk and kind of high. All I remember is taking off my clothes and the guy taking off his clothes. I don’t even remember who the guy was.” She took a deep breath. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, it wasn’t surprising. Abby had this habit of keeping things to herself unless she was asked directly and even then sometimes she would lie about it. “Why did you ask though?”

“Just curious,” My fingers continued rubbing circles on her hips. I felt braver and slid my hands under her shirt, keeping my palms flat on her stomach. Abby’s stomach wasn’t flat, there was a bit of pudge around her stomach and thighs, but I liked it. She wriggled slightly, dislodging my hands. “Sorry.” I muttered.

The bed moved slightly as she shrugged. “Nona wants you to come over for swing night tomorrow, after I get back from the hospital.”

A smile worked its way across my face, “Awesome. Are you going to cook?” Abby’s head bobbed yes. “Good, make ziti please. That shit is delicious.” Abby bit her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading its way across her face.

“I will, but we have to sleep. Early morning tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose, the skin scrunched up slightly. I pulled her closer, loving how her body molded against mine. Not in the perfect story way but in the natural two people being close way. She relaxed into my body and her breathing began to steady, soon the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled my to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning the bed was empty and the spot Abby slept in was cold. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes to make the bright red numbers on the clock stop swimming. It was early for me, ten in the morning. I reached for the phone that lay forgotten on the bedside table. I managed to pull it close enough to the edge of the table so I could grab it without getting up. I pressed a few numbers and held the phone up to my ear.
“Baker residence, Zacky speaking.” Zacky’s groggy voice matched how I assumed I was about to sound.

“Hey man,” Zacky grumbled a few incoherent words I took as a greeting. “Are you doing anything later?”

“No,” I heard rustling in the background; Zacky was either getting out of bed or taking a piss.

“Great, I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Fucker, make it an hour and a half. I have a few places I need to go first.” I heard the toilet flush on Zacky’s end.

“Cool.” The click told me Zacky hung up. I ran my hands over my face and rolled out of the
bed. I went to the window and yanked it open. Once outside I shut the glass pane and climbed the fence, successfully making my way back to my room. I showered and managed to make myself some eggs for breakfast without burning down the house. The only thing I knew how to make properly was cereal. I burned the toast most of the time too. I chuckled as Abby’s voice played in my head. “God forbid you ever live alone.”

I shoveled the food into my mouth, burning my tongue on the runny eggs. I rinsed my plate and tossed it into the dishwasher, not wanting to listen to Suzy bitch at me later for not putting it away. I went out to the car, my keys jumping in my pocket with every step I took. It took twenty minutes to get to Zack’s in bad traffic. He answered the door on the second knock.

“Hey man,” He stepped back to let me inside. His hair was standing up on end and he was wearing what looked like pajama pants and a t-shirt. “Dude, you’re not even dressed.”
Zacky shrugged and pushed the door shut, not bothering to lock it. “I went back to sleep. What the fuck had you up so early anyway?”

“I don’t know, I just woke up early and Abby’s at the hospital so I came here to hang out.”

Zacky perked up at the sound of Abby’s name. “Is she coming over here later?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here, I didn’t have this all planned out.” Zack shrugged and scratched at his chest absently.

“Invite her over.” He suggested. He flicked the lights on in his room, illuminating the Misfits posters and large pictures of bikinied girls. Dirty shirts lay piled in the corner, a sock sat alone on top of a lamp.

“I’ll call later,” I said, shrugging. “She probably is going to want to spend some time with her grandpa.”

“I guess, but it’d be fun if she was here.” Zack grabbed his guitar and plopped down onto his bed.

“You just want to perv on her.” Zack nodded.

“She’s cute.”

“Cute?” I leaned over my own guitar and plucked at the strings randomly, not really making any specific sounds.

“Yeah, she’s cute. Not hot or anything but I wouldn’t mind fucking her.” I felt my blood boil slightly at the thought of Abby and Zack.

“She’d kill you if she heard you thought she was cute. She’s not your type though.” I stopped plucking at the strings.

“Not my type?”

“She’s smart.”

Zack laughed, “Dude, that’s not your type either.”

A few hours later I was back at Abby’s. I raised my hand to knock on the dark wooden door but if flew open before my knuckles were able to connect. “Brian!” Arms wrap tightly around me, I am suffocated by the smell of spaghetti sauce and martinis. The small old woman pulls me down so she can give me a kiss on the cheek.

“Nona,” I smile when I see Nona, I can’t help it. Her happiness is always infectious.

“Come in, come in. We’re having drinks.” She wraps her wrinkled and frail hand around mine, successfully pulling me into the house. “Martini?” She asks once we’re in the living room.

“No Champaign?” Nona favored Champaign.

“No,” she scoffed. “Champaign is for celebrating, martinis are for partying.” I sit on the couch as she makes my drink. The living room and the kitchen were separated by half a wall, a bar table top had been installed and stools added years ago. I could see Abby in the kitchen, taking something out of the oven. I wondered where Jack was. Nona handed me my drink, the olive floated around at the top.

Frank Sinatra was playing lightly from the record player. Abby put the steaming dish on the table. “Hi Bri,” she called cheerfully. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat. I stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Hey kiddo.” She pressed her lips to my cheek lightly.

“How was your day?” I took a sip of my martini. “Oh Nona has already hooked you up with the new nonalcoholic drinks?”

I lifted the glass to eye level, “I knew there was something wrong with this.”

“Jack can’t drink alcohol so everything is nonalcoholic.” Abby explained. She pealed the aluminum foil off the glass dish, revealing noodles covered in cheese. “So how was your day?”

“Good, Zack and I practiced some.” She ladled pasta onto a couple of plates. “I’m picking up more rhythm; it’s easier to play when I’m not just going completely crazy. It helps a lot to have someone I can bounce ideas off.”

Her lips pressed together, I could almost see her thoughts bounce around her head. “I’m glad you had fun.” I can tell something is bothering her, but I’m not sure what it is. She takes my hand, “One quick dance before we eat.”

I roll my eyes, part of the Friday night dinner get together with Abby’s grandparents is dancing. Abby turns up the volume to the record player; some big band swing music is playing. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and we begin to bounce.

We stood out on the deck, watching the stars reflected in the ocean. The air was full of the comforting smell of sea weed, salt and sand. Abby hands were grasping the railing so tightly her fingers were stark white; her elbows were locked, pushing her shoulders closer to her ears. She stood on the tips of her toes, almost leaning over the railing. “Bri?” I looked away from the moon, a bloated silver orb in the sky, and to Abby’s shadow covered face. “Do you have a cigarette?”

My eyebrows raised but I reached into my pocket and withdrew the pack of Marlboro reds. I handed her one of the sticks. She put it between her lips, waiting for me to light it for her. The wisp of fire blazed bright for a moment before going out. The smell of tobacco filled the air. I lit one for myself and took a drag, and watched the smoke float out of Abby’s mouth.
“When did you start smoking?” I asked, after she coughed lightly.

“About five hours ago.” She tapped the ashes off the end and repositioned herself so she was leaning on the railing now. Her forearms supporting her. “After my father called.”

“What happened to your pack?”

“I smoked them all,” She shrugged half heartedly.

“Remind me to get you one of those jumbo packs on your birthday, at the rate you’re going you’re going to need them.” I joked feebly.

She flicked the half finished cigarette away; it landed in the sand somewhere below us with a soft hiss. I didn’t push her for any more information; she would come to me when she was ready. We lapsed into silence for a few moments, both of us contemplating our own problems. “Do you believe in love?” She turned her upper body so she was facing me.

I flicked the last of my cigarette away, “Yeah, I do. Do you?”

She looked away from me again, into the inky blackness of the sky and the ocean. It was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended in the dark. “No, I don’t.”