World I Never Knew

Almost two weeks had gone by since the… incident. Angela was sitting in her usual spot on the couch, by the fire, book in hand. She had finished her first book and had moved onto another. Joe was in the parlor with the piano, pacing. His hands flew wildly in front of him as he pieced thoughts together in his mind.

His feelings for Angela had not dissipated. Even though the two had barely spoken in the past two weeks he still sensed something when he looked at her, when he was near her. She had turned back to that same girl he had met in November. Cold and unemotional. It was unbearable for him to sit in the same room as her and not be able to talk to her.

He would fuss and squirm in his seat trying to think of something to say to her but always coming up with nothing. Either too embarrassed or too nervous to speak, it never ended how he wanted. All he wanted to do was to be able to sit across from her and explain what happened that night. Then, he would lean forward and kiss her. Just the thought made his heart leap wildly in his chest.

Angela was growing tired of hearing Joe pacing and muttering to himself, day after day, hour after hour. Sighing, she set her book down on the couch and walked to the parlor. Joe’s back was to her as he continued his pacing. She caught certain words as he muttered to himself.

“Angela… sorry… paintings… love…”

“What?” she asked, her mouth dropping open a little.

Joe spun on his heels and looked at her, a nervous smile playing on his lips. The smile disappeared when he saw the semi-furious look on her face. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

“Um… hi.” He said.

“What were you just saying?” she asked.

“I wasn’t saying anything.” He said automatically, holding his hands up.

“You said something about paintings.”

“Oh… that… I didn’t know you were listening.”

“What did you do?”

“No!” he said quickly. “I didn’t do anything. Let me explain.”

She nodded her head and sat in one of the chairs as he stood in front of her. He rang his hands together nervously, turning and twisting.

“Okay so… Thanksgiving… after we danced and we almost… uh… that crash? Remember the crash?” he asked and she curtly nodded. “Well… after you went into your room I went to see what it was. Angela, I’m sorry but I had to go to third floor.”

She sucked in a breath but kept her mouth closed so he could continue.

“A branch had broken from a tree again and broke through a window up there. It didn’t destroy any of your paintings but it made a mess so I shoved the branch out, covered the window with cardboard and I cleaned up the glass.” He explained. “You’re not mad are you?”

She contemplated her feelings for a moment. She wasn’t really mad… those paintings though, were her personal items. They were how she expressed her feelings all those years. She never wanted for anyone to see them. They were to be kept private.

“No, I’m not mad.” She whispered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing a change in her expression. He was able to read her like a book.

“Nothing.”

“Angela…” he said, kneeling in front of her and cautiously taking her hands in his. Surprisingly to both, she didn’t pull her hands away. In fact, his soft touch comforted her. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s just, those paintings are kind of private. They were how I was able to express my feelings these past five years. They show the life I used to have… and the life I could have had. It’s not the same. It’s all different. I’m hideous and I’m all alone. No one wants anything to do with me anymore.”

“You’re not alone,” he said smiling at her. “You have me.”

She lifted her gaze to his and his smile caused butterflies to start in her stomach. He reached one of his hands up to her face, cupping her scarred cheek, running his thumb over the beautiful roughness. Her eyes ran wildly across his face as his expression softened. He leaned closer and closer. Both were as nervous as could be. Finally, the gap between them was minimal.

Their hot breaths mingled as their eyes frantically searched each other’s faces. Joe’s thumb ran from her cheek down to her lips, tracing the fullness of them. He closed his eyes and placed his lips on hers.

It was an odd sensation for him; feeling both rough and smooth on his own lips as he kissed Angela. She seemed frozen at first, unsure of what to do. After a moment she started kissing back.

Angela closed her eyes after a moment, enjoying the soft caress of Joe’s lips on her own. Nervously, she lifted her hands from her lap up to Joe’s shoulders and she felt him smile into the kiss. He pulled away and pecked her on the lips one last time before placing his forehead against hers, again feeling the same subtle difference in touch.

Her eyes opened and she saw his were still closed, a smile on his face. Tentatively, she took a hand from his shoulder and placed it on his face. He turned his face into her hand as her fingers ran along his smooth cheek. She studied his face in that moment. Trying to memorize every dimple, every freckle…

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time,” he whispered. She turned her eyes back to his, realizing he had opened them.

“You… you have?” she asked.

“Yes. I wanted to two weeks ago but…”

“I thought… I thought you wanted nothing to do with me that night.” She whispered, feeling herself blush at her stupidity.

“The complete opposite, I wanted everything to do with you that night.” He said and she stared at him. “That came out wrong.” He said, laughing.

“Just a little bit.” She said, laughing along with him.

His face turned serious again and he looked at her. She stared at him, confused. Her fingers stroked his cheek again, moving up to his forehead, smoothing down the wrinkles that formed as his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She simply smiled and leaned forward and kissed him again.

****

Nick drove through the blinding snow through New York. His cell phone on the passenger seat had not stopped lighting up for the past hour and a half. He was right; it had taken about an hour and a half for his family to realize he was gone. The vibrations of his phone resonated through the passenger seat.

Fed up with the sound he continued forward to the nearest rest stop and pulled into the parking lot. He picked the phone up and checked the call log. 27 messages displayed on his screen under voicemail. Sighing, he dialed his voicemail to listen to the messages.

“Nick? What the hell man, come on! Come home. Don’t do this to Mom. Don’t do this to anyone. Frankie’s freaked out enough as it is. Dani’s close to hysterics. Dad’s freaking out even more and Mom’s holed up in bed again. Nick, we just got her to come out of the room and now you’re putting more worry on her. Come home.”

“Nicholas, come home, this instant. I know you’re trying to do a good thing but son, there’s not much to do. Come home and leave it to the police, please.”

“Nick… I know I haven’t been your sister for long but we’ve known each other for three years. I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t try to be the hero, Nick. Please… for us. Be safe, okay?”

There were more messages from the three of them, the same thing over and over. Every time his mother was mentioned, a pang of guilt shot through him. Finally, he was down to two messages. His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the voice of his younger brother.

“Nick,” Frankie’s voice said to him sighing, “Nick, come home. I don’t need to have two missing brothers. Kevin doesn’t either. Heck, forget me and Kevin. What about Mom and Dad? I’ve never seen Mom this upset. Not even after you got diabetes. I hate to say it Nick, but it’s been in the back of my mind since Day 1. Joe could be dead. Man… that’s weird to say. Please come home, I don’t want to think that about you too. I love you, bro.”

One message left. Nick was barely holding himself together at this point. He choked on his own breath when he heard his mother’s voice in his ear.

“Nick? Nicholas, sweetheart, please… come home. Please… I don’t need to lose two babies. For the sake of my sanity please come home. You don’t have to risk your life to find your brother. The police will do that because it’s their job. Your job, Nicholas Jerry, is to be a 17 year old boy. Come home and be with us. We need to be together now. Come home… please… come home…”

The message ended. It had cut her off. Nick had tears pouring down his face, dripping onto his lap. He hadn’t meant to have done that. He didn’t mean to hurt his mother but he had to do this. He just knew it. He sucked in a deep breath and went to “New Message” and started to type a text to Kevin.

I’m fine. Tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry. I have to do this. I love you all.

He hit the power button, watching as the light faded. He stared at the phone a moment longer as he regained his composure. Finally, he placed the phone back on the passenger seat and wiped the stray tears from his face. Flipping the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, he stepped out of the car to grab some food for his long journey.