Breaking Him (Love is War 1)

“I do get a lot of lucrative offers to do porn,” I said lightly.

It was supposed to be a joke (though I had gotten some offers), but he definitely didn’t laugh.  In fact, his expression became so black and he turned so quiet that I had to change the subject.

“You know what my biggest fantasy was when I was a kid?” I asked him.

“What?

“That Gram would adopt me.  That she’d take care of me and let me live with her.”

“She tried to, you know.”

I was shocked.  Deep down in my bones shocked.  “What?”

“She wanted to.  She tried to.  Your grandma fought her tooth and nail.  The only thing they could settle on was letting Gram buy you school clothes and a few other essentials, but if it’d been up to her she’d have taken you in.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yes.  It’s still a hard pill to swallow, that your grandma wouldn’t let you go to Gram, but then she treated you like that.  What the hell was that about?”

“I could tell you.”  I understood how my grandma’s twisted mind worked, understood it too well.

“Please do.”

“It was pride.  Pride is a terrible thing.  She couldn’t let someone else take on one of her burdens.  My grandma has a lot of awful qualities, but she can’t stand the thought that she’s not earning her keep.”

He let out a disgruntled breath.  “How senseless.  Making you miserable for all those years just for her pride?”

I didn’t comment.  I couldn’t, really, without being a hypocrite.  I’d done some terrible things myself for the sake of pride.

We’d been silently sipping our drinks for a stretch when he leaned in close to me, whispering conspiratorially, “Let’s ditch this thing and go check out our old swimming hole?  Can you think of a more Gram thing to do?”

I was more distracted by the way he was leaning into me with that old, familiar twinkle in his eyes than his words.  I was looking up at him, eyes devouring his face, some part of me so stuck in the past that I couldn’t even remember why I was supposed to hate him so wholeheartedly.

But then I remembered.

There was a great pit of despair inside of me, and I felt it flare open, given life by his nearness, fed by his proximity, growing every second I let him close enough to breathe my air.

Just then it felt big enough to lose myself in.

“Excuse me,” I told him tersely, and fled into the reception.

The place was packed.  The good news about that was I didn’t even see a familiar face at first so I was free to move about, ignoring the strangers to my little anti-social heart’s content.

I heard noises coming from one of the large parlors and I knew instantly what it was.

The house was old, but they’d still done a halfway decent job converting one of the larger parlors into a makeshift theatre.

On the screen they were playing one of Gram’s old movies.

I’d been afraid to watch any of them since I’d heard the news, even though I loved them all.  I’d thought it would make me too sad.

But as I saw her beautiful face on screen, so young then, I felt only comfort.

She was immortalized.

And this role in particular suited her.  She was playing what she would have called a wicked, wicked woman, and she threw out one sassy line after another in grand Gram style.

It was everything.  I took an empty seat toward the back of the room and ate it up.

I don’t know how long I sat there before a man sat down in the chair beside me.

I shot him a glance and found him studying me.

“Have we met before?” he asked me.

I gave him a second look.  He was an older man with a kindly face.  “I don’t think so.  Were you a friend of Gram’s, I mean Vivian’s?”

Something slipped into his eyes, some bit of dawning recognition that was odd to me.  It hit me in a strange and troubling way.

“Oh,” he said very quietly.  “I recall now.  I treated you once.  I’m a doctor.”

My brow furrowed.  “I don’t believe so.”

“I-I’m terribly sorry.  You’re right.  Please forget that I ever brought it up.”

And with that he stood up and left the room, looking harried and I don’t even know what.

As he walked out, Dante walked in.  The men saw each other, each briefly pausing, steps faltering before they both nodded and continued on their way.

“Who was that?” I asked Dante when he, predictably, sat down beside me.

His whole face closed off.  “Some old friend of Gram’s, why?”

“He said he was a doctor and that he’d treated me once,” my voice trailed off and I looked away as realization struck.  “Never mind,” I muttered.

Dante squeezed my hand, and for a second, I let him before pulling away.

I nodded at the screen.  “This is my favorite part,” I said weakly.

“Mine too.”

“I could stay in here all day.”

“Let’s,” he replied.

We didn’t do that, but it was tempting.

One of Dante’s old football buddies came in shortly, sat down next to him, and started catching up.

I didn’t even look at the guy.  I hadn’t been friends with any of the jock douchebags in high school, and I saw no reason why I should have to waste my time on one now.

Also, just thinking about football put my mind in a dark place.