In Too Deep

Everything was so fast. I felt so numb. I looked into the casket one last time before I nodded at my father’s friends and they closed the casket with care. The pastor said a couple of words. A trickle of sweat trickled down my neck from the noon heat and sun, even though I felt cold and sick. The pastor stopped speaking and the crowd started to disperse. I felt hands patting me, and I heard words of comfort, though I tried to block it all out. It wasn’t hard.

Suddenly my uncle’s face was looming in front of me. “Are you ready to go?” he asked in his gruff, grating voice. He looked shiny with sweat and red from the sun. My dad had had an outdoor funeral because of his love of wildlife.

I looked over his shoulder, watching as they lowered my father’s coffin into the ground, listening to the pastor making jokes with a small group of people. Farther back than that, gravestones wavered in the summer heat, and fake flowers actually wilted under the sun’s intense heat. I focused back on my uncle, and felt a surge of terror. I remembered from my childhood, when he had tried to molest me. I had never told anyone about it, and he was the last family member left. He was my late aunt’s husband. Not really family at all. I felt sick to my stomach. I shook my head slowly. “No, I think I’d prefer to just go home for a while and stay the night. Just one more time.”

His cold blue eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Have fun.” He seemed angry about me not coming with him, but also glad he didn’t have to cater to a seventeen year old until the next day, which was a great relief, I was sure. He turned on his heel and headed off to his car. He waved reluctantly as he pulled away, and I raised my hand in goodbye.

I lowered my hand and turned back to my father’s grave, which was being filled in with soft, brown soil. My eyes blurred with tears that would not fall, and I looked away to the dry, brown grass. There hadn’t been rain in so long.

Everyone had left, and I was more or less alone, watching that grave fill with soil, putting another six feet between us. I felt like every shovel of dirt was another bit of my heart leaving me with that already-dead man. Soon, I felt like my heart would be gone, and all that would be left was a hollow center where it used to be.

That’s what happened to my father, too. His heart had stopped beating. A heart attack. He had been at the hospital, in the middle of a heart transplant, when he died. There was a hollow center in his chest. I wish I was the one in the ground.

My mother was also dead. She had died in childbirth. No matter what the doctors had tried, my poor, young mother just kept bleeding and bleeding, until she finally had bled out. My father had told me that both she and I had been screaming for help at the moment before her death. He said that I had stopped crying as soon as my mother’s heart stopped, before her existence left her body. He had confided in me that he thought that my mother’s spirit had gone into my body, and that he saw her in me more and more every day.

My parents, two lovebirds, had met each other at school. My mother had been a sixth grader when my father had graduated from high school. As soon as she turned sixteen, she dropped out, and not even a year later had plopped me out. My father had regretted it every day of his life that she died. The doctors had told him that if she had been older that she would never had died. It was a tough reality, and even though as a baby I had been loved by my father, I was not taken care of by him. My grandmother had taken care of me to the age of three, and when my father had come to his senses and started to take care of me more, my grandmother had suffered from a heart attack. Go figure.

I turned suddenly, aware that I had nothing to do. It must have been almost one in the afternoon, and the temperatures were becoming stifling. I walked to my father’s old Camry and enjoyed the cool air it brought with it, however dilapidated the air conditioning really was. I took off my black heels and slipped out of my nude hose, throwing them in the back seat without much of a worry about people seeing it. There, that was better. I situated my underwear into the right position and started to drive towards home.

Home was a nice, modern house with stone slabs making the walls and a sleek mahogany door. It had a grand fireplace in the living room, with a fluffy animal skin in front of it. I figured it was polar bear hide. It housed the finest appliances and leather seating arrangements. On the second floor, there were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a recreational room with a magnificent pool table that attracted many of my father’s friends. The walls were a chrome-y cream color, and most of the floors were hardwood, though the bedrooms upstairs were a vibrant red we had just put in a year or so ago. It was a bachelor pad and a teenage hangout rolled into one, with no maternal values to think of.

But it was still home.

After parking the car in the driveway, I went upstairs to take a shower, feeling sticky and dead. I took off my stiff black dress and put it in the hamper, figuring I would have some time in the near future to give it the proper washing it required.

The shower felt nice, and the hot water steamed out some of my misery, but not most of it. I scrubbed and scrubbed at my skin, and yet I still felt like there was some gunk, hidden somewhere inside of me. My only hope was to get it from the outside.

When I got out of the bathroom in a pair of comfortable pajama shorts and an old black wife beater of my father’s, I noticed that my cell phone had a text on it. I had chosen to keep it at home during the funeral, and now I was regretting it somewhat. I opened the message and regretted even more having the phone at all. Ian, my boyfriend (I reminded myself to call him my ex-boyfriend), had left me a harsh message no girl ever wants to find.

Its not workin out for me, bby. Hope we can b freinds?

I did laugh a bit at the fact that he had misspelled “friends,” but then I realized that the stupid shit had broken up with me. Over a text message. In another numb state, I sat slowly down on my bed, shaking my head against the tears in my eyes and the anger in my mind. I had wondered why he hadn’t been at my father’s funeral, but Ian had never been good at emotions. That’s probably why he had dumped me over a text. I fell sideways into my pillows and forced myself to sleep.

When I woke up abruptly, it was dark out. My clock told me it was ten at night. Then, I heard the doorbell ring again. I hadn’t been delirious. I pushed myself up, checked the mirror to see what I looked like after a rough day, and ran down the stairs to open the door.

At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes, no matter how hard I tried. I blinked once, twice, three times, and still couldn’t believe my good fortune. My best guy friend, Eric, was standing there, my knight in shining armor. Well, he was wearing his usual band tee and plaid man shorts, but you get my drift. He hadn’t even thought of putting on his shoes, and I worried what had happened.

So I asked him. “What happened?” I gave him a quick hug and led him inside to the living room. I showed him where to sit and set a fire in the fireplace, feeling the chill of the house. I didn’t know how to work the air conditioning unit in the house yet. I guessed I never would. I felt tears spring back up and I pushed them back down. I turned back to Eric and smiled gently, prompting him to answer my question.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and began. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t at your pop’s funeral, Lace. I was out camping with my…” I knew he wanted to say dad, even though I knew he wouldn’t. “Anyway, I was going hiking and all of the sudden, I guess my cell phone caught some signal and a bunch of texts came in, all telling me about how your dad had died.” He stood and crossed the room over to me, giving me a warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his lips moving in my messy hair.

“It’s fine,” I squeaked weakly. I resisted the urge to rub my cheek across one of his pectorals. It was a mighty temptation. No matter how much I reassured everyone that Eric and I were only friends, he had starred in some of my personal fantasies, and every now and then I would get a rush of electricity when I touched him.

He held me away at arm’s length. “But something else happened. What happened, Lacey?”
I sighed. “Ian broke up with me. Over a text message,” I clarified, showing him my phone as proof.

He looked up from the appalling text, and I had a split moment of thinking that he would snap my phone in half. “That heartless bastard.” He laid my phone down with extra care on the couch and urged me to sit on the polar bear hide in front of the fire. I realized I was shivering, but not from cold like he thought. He reached for the blanket on the couch and wrapped me up in it, taking care to hold me tight to him.

“I should’ve been here,” he continued. “I came as soon as I could, but I just got into city limits around nine. I figured it would be better for me to take a shower first, and that cost a lot of precious time.” He ran his fingers through my hair, smoothing down the unruly brown locks. He was the best big brother I’d ever had... except for the small fact that I really wanted him to kiss me. “Were you asleep when I got here?”

I nodded, feeling drowsy. “I don’t have any more family alive, really. There’s nothing else I can do,” I said, feeling defeated. A few tears finally started to roll down my cheeks and I moaned. I hated indulging myself in self-pity, but I couldn’t help it anymore. Everything was coming so fast, and I was finally an orphan. I had no more blood relatives left alive that I knew of. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

Then, Eric was kissing my eyelids. I opened them slowly, and he let his lips trail down the paths my tears had created for him. He ended right before my mouth, and I moaned again, but for a different reason than remorse. He looked at me questioningly and I nodded. I wanted this.

He leaned forward and gently kissed me. His mouth was warm and a little wet, and his lips were the perfect size: not too thin, not too big. I grabbed at his curly hair and pressed myself closer to him. His tongue entered my mouth and explored. I wrapped my legs around his waist. I wanted him so bad. His mouth tasted like my tears.

Eric pulled away suddenly. “Are you sure this is what you want? Your dad just died and your boyfriend just broke up with you.”

I nodded, focusing on pulling his band tee off of him. He allowed that, but when I leaned in to kiss him again, he stopped me.

“Are you sure?” He gulped steadily. “Because I love you.”

For once, I was floating on a cloud of certainty. “I love you too,” I said softly, brushing my fingers over his camping-toned tan abs. “I’m absolutely sure.” I looked into his deep brown eyes and saw real promise. A tear rolled down my cheek involuntarily and I brushed it away with frustration. “You just have super bad timing,” I teased.

He laughed, his whole body shaking. “That’s for sure.” He continued to kiss me, pulling off my own shirt and marveling at my breasts. What the gentleman. He stuck one in his mouth and an explosion of heat and passion went off in my lower regions. I hurried to get his shorts off and then mine, so we were on the animal fur with only our underwear on.

Eric hooked his thumbs in the sides of my panties and let out a guttural noise as he got back to kissing my mouth. My left breast was uncomfortable wet, and I rubbed up against him to get rid of it. We both yanked each other’s underwear down at the same time, tossing them away. I was suddenly really glad I had gotten a Brazilian wax for the thong I had to wear with my funeral dress. I was smoother than a baby’s bottom, all the way through.

He laid me down gently on the animal skin, the plush white cushioning me. “Are you ready?” he asked me, looking down at me with love on his face. I nodded vigorously, afraid that I would lose the moment if he didn’t get on with it. He set his face in grim determination, said, “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” and slid himself into me.

I gasped, chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep the pain in. He was right; it hurt like a bitch. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I thought I was going to rip open. Eric looked at me, waiting for me to say it was okay. He was holding back so much that his neck was strained. The pain ebbed away, and I was eager for him to start. “Now. Please!” I growled.

At that moment, I didn’t care that he didn’t wear a condom, or that the neighbors might hear us. I was just in the “now.” I followed his rhythm after a few stunned moments and felt sparks. Mostly I felt pain, though, and the whole ordeal was awkward. I did feel the climax, and we both met it at the same point, but it was the only thing I could feel, and it was just a higher amount of passion and pain.

Eric pulled out and collapsed on top of me, breathing unevenly. “That was good, for your first time,” he said, kissing my collarbone and looking into my eyes fondly. I begged myself not to cry.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “You were good, too.” I still felt ripped open and tender, and I didn’t think I would want to do that again for quite a long time. Though it had only lasted a minute or so, it was still too much pain to deal with.

“You know, you’re gonna be eighteen in four days. We could run away,” he said, trailing his fingers down my hips. “Then, we could get married. You’d be legal, and I would take care of you. I would love you with everything I’ve got. And if you had any children, I would cherish them.” He smiled and nuzzled into my neck.

I knew he wasn’t lying. I knew he was telling me the truth. Feeling that nothing bad could happen, I started to talk. “You know, I have to go back to my uncle tomorrow. I don’t want to. He touched me when I was younger, and I don’t want to be there, not even for four days. And I just know that he would take all of my money before I left.” I hugged Eric closer to me, breathing in his clean scent, ignoring the stiffening of his muscles as I said this. “Yes,” I whispered into his ear. “I’ll come with you.”

He fist pumped and shoved himself back into me, feeling mighty victorious. This time, it was better, and I enjoyed it more. It lasted maybe over two minutes. I bit his shoulder to keep myself from screeching my pleasure.

We fell asleep, our limbs tangled together and our heads together, and when the sun started to rise, we woke up abruptly. “We should probably get washed up,” I said uncertainly. He nodded and we separated to take separate showers. When I was done, I found that Eric had already finished packing up for me. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” I said, wringing out my damp hair.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and I jumped over to the window to see my uncle waiting for me, a greedy look on his face. I gasped and started to shove at Eric. “Go out the back, take my stuff, and start up your car as soon as my uncle comes in, okay?” He nodded and I watched as he ran downstairs and out the back door. I put my robe on over my traveling clothes, a track suit and a ratty old school pride shirt.

When I opened my door, I made sure to look stable. “Hello, Uncle Martin. Please, come in and sit down.” I stood aside and looked outside, winking at Eric as he snuck into his car.
I closed the front door and hurried to the living room. The place looked back in order, but the rug still had spots of blood on it, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice them. “If you’ll just wait, I’ll go get ready and packed,” I told him. He grunted in agreement, and I hurried upstairs.

After a quick search, I found my purse and put all of my personal belongings in it, knowing that Eric had packed only my clothing and toiletries. Thank God. I took off my robe and replaced it with my autumn jacket. It was still a little cool out in the early morning air. I picked up my flip flops and started to sneak out.

Somewhere between stepping on that last squeaky step and opening the door, my uncle started out of the living room, looking for me. I let out a shrill scream and started to run for Eric’s car, which he was trying to start up. Cursing all old cars out there, I tripped over the hose, another thing to curse. Martin grabbed at my ankle and I tried to scrabble forward, kicking backwards and trying to gain purchase on the dead grass. “Get off!” I screamed, finally getting a good kick aimed at my uncle’s neck. He let go of my ankle and grabbed at his throat, his eyes bulging.

I scrabbled up and threw myself into the open passenger door, Eric urging me forward. Martin started to run towards me, rage making his face the same red his neck was. I closed the door and yelled, “Go, go, go!” at Eric.

Martin ran out in front of the car, thinking that that would stop us.

With a determined look, Eric ran right over him, my uncle crunching unpleasantly. I gave out a cry and cringed, picking my feet off the floor in disgust.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Eric yelled, picking up speed before the neighbors could recognize his car, or jot down the license plate numbers.

For several miles, I held my hands over my eyes, shaking my head with worry and revulsion. After a while, I looked up from my position and saw that we were already far into the country. I looked at Eric experimentally, and found that he was smiling cheerfully, singing to the radio out of tune.

He noticed that I was looking at him and gave me a large grin. I saw the malice there, and I pressed myself against the door. “My family owns a secluded farmhouse a couple more miles from here. We’ll never have to leave.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “We’ll be the happiest couple in the history of the world.” He looked back to the road.

Tears started to run down my face. I wanted to get out. I didn’t want to go on with this. I wanted to go back home and hide until I was eighteen and then live on my own, with my father’s leftover fortune.

But I knew, from the spark in Eric’s eyes, that I was in too deep.