My father never directly told me I wouldn't be allowed to see Ritchie again, but I wasn’t allowed to so much as answer the door. And sometimes he closed the door after saying only “No, and have a nice day.”
My stomach felt empty, and knotted at the same time. My chest hurt, and I hated the feeling. I couldn’t just stop wanting him, something my father couldn’t get through his head.
It must’ve been at least two weeks before my Father let me answer the door, and it might have slipped his mind not to let me. I don’t think I’d been that happy in the two weeks we’d been apart than at the moment I opened the door. Ritchie grinned when he saw that this time it was me who answered the door, and not my Father, and I resisted the urge not to run out to him.
I turned to ask my Father if I could join Ritchie, but before the words left my lips, and before he even glanced up from his paper, he told me we could only talk for five minutes.
“And I mean five minutes Ana.” And I had no intention of trying to upset him again, even though five minutes passed away like seconds.
Ritchie managed to visit on most days, and sometimes I got to spend a whole ten minutes out on the front steps to our porch, but sometimes, not at all. He came on Sunday once, but I really don’t think it’s something he would do again, my Father went off on him, cursing selectively and telling him how it was ‘God’s Day’(ironic isn’t it?) and he should be at his own home spending time with his own family. Burdening him with questions such as: ‘Do you ever go home?’ as I watched in horror from the sofa.
I apologized for my Father many, many times, but only once we were alone. I’d never felt so humiliated in my life and I worried he’d never come by again. I must’ve apologized at least a hundred times, each time he shrugged and said it wasn’t a huge deal.
Snow had fallen in sheets, no, more like feather blankets, as December snuck by. I’d always liked snow, especially when it meant no school. Unfortunately, even though about a foot of the stuff had fallen, I still had to go to school, which meant I still had social studies.
I sat in class, gazing out the window as flurries of snow covered the ground, and twirling my pencil with my fingers while everyone else had put theirs to use, scribbling down answers to some work the teacher had just handed out.
“Ana?” I jerked my head from the view out the window and saw my teacher, peering at me over his book.
“Yes sir?”
“There’s a worksheet in front of you, I suggest you do it, your grade hasn’t been so impressive lately.” I heard a few kids snicker behind their hands as I felt my cheeks burn in a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
“Yes sir. I was just thinking about question five.” I said glancing down at the page.
“You seem to be working fast, Miss. Webb. Do you mind sharing your answer to number two with the class? They all seem to be having trouble with it.” I hated his posh accent, it made me cringe.
“Actually, I’d better check mine again.” I mumbled looking down to avoid his gaze. I could feel the sense of satisfaction rolling off of him in waves. So when the bell rang and he announced it as homework, I was immensely relieved. I shoved the papers into my bag, not caring if they wrinkled or not and left the room quickly, still all too aware of the stares that followed me.
Peggie walked up behind me and put a comforting hand on my arm. She really was a good friend, most of the time. though she was my closest friend, I still didn't feel comfortable confiding in her about Ritchie. I felt bad for not telling her anything, but I wasn’t good at the ‘opening up’ stuff. So, I smiled halfheartedly at her and she went her own way. How easily people would believe a fake smile... especially from me.
My thoughts were still on the disaster that was Social Studies when I spotted the familiar dark clothing- very obvious amongst the bright white glare of everything else- which Ritchie wore. He stood waiting for me by the school sign.
How long had he been waiting here? Today had been the last day of school, thank God. I needed the break, every moment of school my thoughts were on Ritchie... But now, I didn’t need to just remember him.
When he pulled me closer to his body and pressing his lips to my cheek, I returned the favor, placing my hand against his other cheek and brushing his hair with the tips of my fingers, hating to pull away, he made the day seem so much better.
He caught my hand in his, kissing my wrist and holding my palm where it lay against his face. My fingers warmed immediately at his touch, but when he let go, I felt the cold gradually begin to reclaim my arm. My legs felt weak and trembled at his touch, he hugged my body close to his and I could feel his warm breathing against my skin as I breathed in
his scent.
I was amazed at how much I’d missed him in only two days, and when he stepped away from me, I wasn’t ready to let go of him and stumbled forward slightly. This time though, I didn’t fall.
He took my hand in his, and despite the wind that was blowing powerfully against our backs, we took our time as we walked slowly home. I could tell he didn’t want to leave anymore than I did, but our saving grace was actually my father, who hadn’t had to work that day, he opened the door, and welcomed us both inside, commenting that he wouldn’t feel quite right letting Ritchie go home without warming up first.
Oh, God. What’s he gonna do now? Thoughts raced through my mind as I stepped inside, glancing uneasily first at Ritchie, then my Father.
We removed our snow laden boots and coats, hanging them in the closet where he turned to me and kissed me once more, pressing his lips to mine, and placing his hands against my cheeks, and when I kissed him back, it sent shivers throughout my body and I bit my lip softly.
My head spun with thoughts about Ritchie, just the thought of his body so near mine was enough for me to long for him. Our brief kiss was all I thought about as I heard my Father in the kitchen preparing tea. Ritchie sat on the couch, and I sat in a chair diagonal from him, despite my desperate urge to sit next to him.
I turned to see who was making their way slowly across the downstairs hallway when I heard the creak of the floorboards. What was my mother doing out of bed? She looked terrible, and I wondered if Father had remembered to take care of her today. I hated thinking of her like that though, like a dog. She looked pale, and her legs seemed unstable, but Ritchie beat me to it, offering his assistance.
With a smile, she nodded to him. “You seem la lot nicer than David says you are... I don’t see why hedoesn’t like you around Ana...” Ritchie laughed politely, but I could tell he was annoyed, as he helped her to sit down.
“’S’all right.” He said covering her lap with a blanket, “I’ll try not ta disappoint ‘im too much.” He returned to his seat just as my father entered the room, taking a moment for surprise at my mother’s appearance.
“I trust you know how ta pour tea?” He had directed the question at Ritchie, who might have only been pretending not to be offended.
“I s’pose I could give it a go, no one’s really trusted me to before.” I thought I heard a bit of bitterness and a snarl barely concealed behind his dry sarcasm but I saw my mother snigger slightly at his response, though my Father didn’t seem to find it as funny as she had.
And the evening passed just like this, my Father trying constantly to degrade Ritchie, whom didn’t seem at all perturbed by him and dealt with his snide comments with uncommon grace. My mother went back to her room after an hour or so, she seemed to like Ritchie just fine. And my Father could find no reason to hate him. Except his clothes, and his hair- which he thought were hideous and his parents ought to have him dress like a normal human being.
Ritchie left, and my Father went to bed, leaving me to clean the dishes and the kitchen on my own. A quiet tapping on the back door made me nearly jump out of my skin, and I peeked through the blind, ready to see some maniac trying to get through the door(you know how minds automatically jump to the worst scenario), but I was instead greeted by a pair of familiar blue eyes.
I unlocked the door as quietly as I could and he slipped inside. I was furious, but at the same time my heart was pounding with excitement.
“What’re you doing here?” I whispered, looking nervously around.
“I jus’ thought you might need some ‘elp with the dishes.” He said, though I’m sure he knew I didn’t believe him. As I rinsed a plate I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
“If my father comes down here and sees you…” My voice trailed off as I imagined the punishments to come.
“Don’ worry about it luv.” He said wiping his hands off on a dish towel. Easy for him to say. “What was wrong with yer mother, anyway?” He asked pulling a chair out to sit down, pulling another out for me and, after a moment’s hesitation, I sat down.
“She’s just sick.” I answered, tracing my fingers along the tabletop. “Doctors say it’ll pass soon enough, probably just the cold messin’ with ‘er again.” I saw Ritchie nod and scoot his chair out from the table some, I jerked my head up in fear that my father might have heard it.
“Ya don’ need ta be so jumpy luv.” He said gazing at me with those eyes… I shivered and looked away. I felt the warmth of his hand cover mine, and he pulled me lightly to my feet.
My Father was most likely asleep, but as he drew closer to me, I stepped back and into a wall with a soft thud. I hoped he hadn’t heard that… I was being ridiculous... every little thud, every little creak... I felt as though my heart were pounding in my throat as his arm wrapped around my waist, and felt his hand brush gently across my cheek, his thumb stroking me softly… my paranoia slowly began to edge away as I let my emotions take over.
I knew I was blushing, I could feel my face burning as he calmly held me where I stood. My breathing was rapid and I struggled to slow it, I was tense and could tell he knew I was nervous.
“Shh, luv, s’all right. Ya don’ need ta worry, I won’ do nothin’ ya don’ want me to.” He murmured in my ear and I felt my body relax slightly, I definitely wanted him to stay, and his voice was soothing...
He pressed his mouth to mine and I felt a longing for something burning in the pit of my stomach as I ran my fingers through his hair, it was soft... I felt his hands traveling lightly across my body, and I knew if he tried to take this anywhere, I would follow. I felt so comfortable here, with him. So, it was good he didn’t.
He moved his lips from my mouth to my neck and I hoped to God my father would never come downstairs. He brushed his lips lightly over my shoulder, causing me to shiver with something that felt, again, like anticipation. He moved my hair aside as he kissed my neck and his hand had traveled from my cheek to my upper waist.
‘I don’ think yer father likes me.” He murmured his face only inches from mine. He was smiling, so I knew he didn’t really care. I tried desperately to slow my breathing, to calm down when he pressed his lips to mine, but the shivers that wracked my body sent those concerns far away. I smiled when he pulled them slightly away.
“What happened to trying not to disappoint him?” I mumbled, placing my hands on his shoulders. I saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he held back a laugh.
“’E’ll live.” He said as he kissed me again softly, this time I kissed him back.
“What was that?” I whispered urgently. A door upstairs had opened. My hopes were dashed as I heard him mutter, “Shit!” and reluctantly let go of me and ran silently into the hallway closet where we kept our shoes. I rushed over to the dishes and tried to look busy, and I heard the closet door click softly shut as my Father came downstairs, gazing blearily around.
“Someone down ‘ere?” He asked looking around and I shook my head without a word, scrubbing the plate so hard I feared it would break. I heard a thump from the closet and I gasped softly. My father turned his head with a confused look. He was about to reach for the doorknob, so I dropped the plate, shattering glass across the floor. I was nervous and jumpy; my emotions clouding my common sense.
He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. I felt bad, he was already stressed enough. But I thanked God all he did was mutter darkly for me to ‘Clean it up’ and he shuffled off to bed with a glass of water. I was quiet for what seemed like hours, sitting on the floor with a rag in my hands. That had been way too close. I had swept up all the glass, actually mad at myself for breaking a perfectly good dish. But it had saved both our skins and I heard the door click as he opened and shut it once more. He was blushing like mad, and it probably was an embarrassing moment for him.
“Christ I’m sorry about that, luv.” He said, grabbing my arm just above the elbow. “I slipped on somethin’ in there, didn’ see what it was, but you acted pretty fast... When I ‘eard the crash though, I thought ‘e mighta thrown somethin’ at ya.” He hugged me close to him and I wrapped my arms around his waist. I had to pull myself away almost immediately.
“You really better go.” I said in something that was barely a whisper. He nodded, pulling my chin up to kiss me one last time before he left. The pain in my chest was growing achingly familiar, and the only way it ever left was whenever Ritchie was with me.
I lay in my bed that night, thinking only of him and the all-too-brief moments we had together. I remembered the pressure of his lips against mine, and the way his hands touched me so lightly and tenderly… The way I felt with our bodies pressed so close together. I felt like crying in frustration that he’d had to leave so soon.
How I ever fell asleep I have no idea, all I know is that I wished for dreams of him.
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