Beautiful Oblivion

CHAPTER TEN

A KNOCK AT THE DOOR STARTLED ME AWAKE. ANOTHER SET of knocks made me fully awake. Then the pounding began. I crawled out of bed, cringing when the bright, early morning sun struck my face the second I walked into the hall.

I stumbled across the living room and opened the door.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I asked.

“She slept in hew clowes,” Olive said in her sweet, tiny voice.

I looked down, shielding the sun from my eyes with my hands. “Oh, hi, Olive. Sorry, I didn’t see you down there,” I said, unable to stop frowning, even for her.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Twent says I’m showt.”

“We brought you breakfast,” Trenton said, holding up a white sack.

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Yes, you do. Raisin cinnamon bagels with butter. Kody told me.”

The two lines that were already formed between my eyebrows grew deeper. I glared at Trenton, and then looked down to Olive. My expression softened, and I sighed. “I love her,” I said to no one in particular. “Olive, you know I love you, but I’m going back to bed.” I looked at Trenton, and narrowed my eyes. “It’s not going to work this time. Take her home.”

“I can’t. Her parents are out all day.”

“Then take her to your home.”

“My dad’s got a cold. You don’t want her to get a cold, do you?”

“You know what I hate?” I asked.

Trenton had desperation in his eyes. “Me. I know. I just . . . I’m a selfish, insecure idiot.”

“Yes.”

“But I’m a sorry selfish, insecure idiot with a little girl outside in the cold.”

It was my turn to sigh. I waved for Olive to come in. She happily complied, sitting on the couch. She immediately found the remote and flipped on the television, turning to Saturday morning cartoons.

Trenton took a step and I held out my hand. “Not you.”

“What?”

“You don’t get to come in.”

“But . . . I’m watching Olive.”

“You can watch her from the window.”

Trenton crossed his arms across his chest. “You think I won’t?”

“No, I know you will.” I grabbed the white sack from his hand, and then slammed the door in his face, locking the door. I tossed Olive the sack. “You like bagels, kiddo?”

“Yep!” she said, opening the sack. “Aw you weally going to make Twent stand outside?”

“Yes, I am,” I said, walking back to my room, and falling into my bed.

“Cami!” Raegan said, shaking me. I looked at the clock. It had been almost two hours since Trenton had knocked on my door. “That little girl is watching cartoons in our living room!” she whispered, clearly uneasy.

“I know.”

“How did she get there?”

“Trent brought her.”

“Where’s Trent?”

“Outside, I think,” I said, yawning.

Raegan stomped out to the living room, and then back to my room. “He’s sitting on the ground outside our window, playing Flappy Bird on his cell phone.”

I nodded.

“It’s thirty-three degrees outside.”

“Good,” I said, sitting up. “I wish it were sleeting.”

Raegan’s face screwed into disgust. “He waved at me like it was the most normal thing in the world. What the hell is going on?”

“He brought Olive over. His dad has a cold, so he couldn’t bring her home, and her parents are somewhere else all day.”

“So he couldn’t watch her at her house?”

I thought about that for a moment, and then crawled out of bed for the second time that day. I walked over to the couch. “Why didn’t Trent watch you at your house?” I asked.

“I wanted to come see you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” I said. “Trenton didn’t want to see me?”

“Yes, but he said you wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so then I said, pweety, pweety pwease? And he said okay.”

I smiled at her, and then walked over to the front door, opening it. Trenton turned around, and looked up at me. My smile vanished. “Come in.”

Trenton stood up and walked inside, but that’s as far as he got. “You’re mad at me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Why?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

“Is it because I went home with that girl last night?”

I still didn’t answer.

“I didn’t bag her.”

“You want a cookie?” I asked. “Because that is prize worthy.”

“What is your deal? You tell me five times a day that we’re friends, and now you’re jealous of some girl I flirted with for two seconds.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Then what are you?”

“As your friend, I can’t be concerned about your STD status?”

“What’s an ust edie?” Olive asked from the love seat.

I closed my eyes tight. “Oh, God. I’m sorry, Olive. Forget you heard that.”

Trenton took a step toward me. “Her parents let me babysit her. You think they’re worried about foul language?”

I raised an eyebrow.

He lowered his chin, looking straight into my eyes. “Tell me the truth. Are you angry at me because you thought I took that girl home, or is it something else? Because you’re mad at me for something.”

I crossed my arms and looked away.

“What are we doing, Cami?” he asked. “What is this?”

“We’re friends! I’ve told you that already!”

“Bullshit!”

Olive’s finger hovered over the top of the love seat. “You have to put a nickow in my jawr.”

“Sorry,” Trenton said, his eyebrows pushed together.

“So you didn’t . . . go home with her?” I asked.

“Where was I going to take her? My dad’s?”

“I don’t know, a hotel room?”

“I’m not buying drinks to save money, you think I’m going to spend a hundred bucks on a hotel room for some random chick I just met?”

“You’ve done less intelligent things.”

“Like what?”

“Like eat glue!”

Trenton tucked his chin and looked away, clearly disgusted, and maybe a little bit embarrassed. “I never ate glue.”

I crossed my arms. “Yes, you did. In Mrs. Brandt’s class.”

Raegan shrugged. “You did.”

“You weren’t in my class, Ray!” Trenton said.

“You also ate red pencils fairly regularly, according to Cami!” Raegan said, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Whatever!” Trenton yelled. “Where’s my bagel?”

The white sack hovered above the love seat, the wrinkled, rolled top held by Olive’s tiny fingers. Trenton sat beside his friend, fought with the sack, and then pulled out his breakfast, unwrapping it.

Raegan looked at me and held three fingers over her mouth. Her body jerked with a silent laugh like a tiny hiccup, and then she retreated to her room.

“I never ate glue,” Trenton grumbled.

“Maybe you blocked it out. I would block it out if I ate glue . . .”

“I didn’t eat glue,” he snapped.

“Okay,” I said, my eyes widening for a moment. “God.”

“You want . . . you want half of my bagel?” Trenton asked.

“Yes, please,” I said.

He handed it to me, and we ate together, quietly, while Olive watched cartoons between us. Her little feet just barely hung off the edge of the seat cushion, and she bounced them up and down once in a while.

After two cartoons, I drifted off and woke up when my head fell forward.

“Hey,” Trenton said, patting my knee. “Why don’t you go take a nap? We can go.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want you to go.”

Trenton stared at me for a minute, and then motioned for Olive to trade places with him. She hopped up, more than happy to comply. Trenton sat next to me, leaning over a bit, and then nodded, gesturing to his shoulder. “It’s comfy. Or so I hear.”

I made a face, but instead of arguing, I wrapped my arms around his, and rested my head snugly between his shoulder and his neck. Trenton rested his cheek against my hair, and at the same time we took a deep breath and relaxed against each other.

I don’t remember anything after that, until my eyes blinked open. Olive was asleep, her head on Trenton’s lap. His arm was lying protectively over her, the other wrapped in my arms. His hand was resting on my thigh, and his chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm.

Raegan and Brazil were sitting on the sofa, watching the muted television. When Raegan realized I was awake, she smiled.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“What time is it?” I said softly. “Noon.”

“Really?” I said, sitting up.

Trenton roused, and immediately checked Olive. “Whoa. How long have we been out?”

“A little over three hours,” I said, wiping under my eyes.

“I didn’t even know I was tired,” Trenton said.

Brazil smiled. “I didn’t know you were dating the bartender. Kyle and Brad will be disappointed.”

I frowned at him. I didn’t even know who Kyle and Brad were.

“They can cheer up. We’re just friends,” Trenton said.

“Really?” Brazil said, watching us both for signs of a joke.

“I told you,” Raegan said, standing up. Her tank top came away from her teeny-tiny pink-and-white-striped boxers as she stretched. “Brazil has a game at four thirty. You guys up for some Bulldog Football?”

“I’m watching Olive,” Trenton said. “We were going to ask Cami to come with us to Chicken Joe’s.”

“Olive might like football,” Brazil said.

“Jason . . .” Trenton said, shaking his head. “Chicken Joe’s outdoes a football game by like . . . a thousand cool points.”

“How do you know unless you take her to one?”

“I have. She still hasn’t let me live it down.”

“Is she your baby cousin or something?” Brazil asked. “Why is she with you all the time?”

Trenton shrugged. “She had an older brother. He would have been fourteen today. She worshipped him. He was hit by a car on his bike a few months before they moved next door. Olive sat next to him while he took his last breath. I’m just trying to fill the shoes.”

“That’s rough, man, but . . . and I mean no offense . . . but, you’re a Maddox.”

“Yeah? So?” Trenton said.

“I know you’re a good guy, but you’re a tatted-up, whiskey-drinking, foul-mouthed hothead. Her parents just let her get in the car with you?”

“It was just a natural progression, I guess.”

“But . . . why is she your responsibility?” Brazil said. “I don’t get it.”

Trenton looked down at Olive, who was still sound asleep. He brushed a wispy ash-blond strand from her eyes, and then shrugged. “Why not?”

I smiled at his simple show of affection. “Chicken Joe’s it is. But I’ll have to cut out early to get ready for work.”

“Deal,” Trenton said with a smile, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Well, I have errands to run,” Raegan said.

“I’ve got to grab some carbs and head to the field house,” Brazil said. When he stood, he patted Raegan’s backside, leaned over to kiss her, and then grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys before slamming the door behind him.

Olive’s eyes popped open.

“Yay!” Trenton said. “She’s awake! Now we can EAT HER!” He leaned over and pretended to bite her belly while tickling her.

She giggled hysterically. “Nooooo. I have to peeeee!”

“Whoa!” Trenton said, holding up his hands.

“This way,” I said, leading Olive by the hand to the bathroom in the hall. Her bare feet padded against the tile floor. “TP, soap, hand towel,” I said, pointing to the various items.

“Got it,” she said. She looked so tiny standing in the middle of the bathroom. She raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to stay?”

“Oh! No. I’m sorry,” I said, backing out and closing the door.

I turned and walked over to Trenton, who was standing in the walk space between the breakfast bar and the love seat.

“She’s pretty great,” he said, smiling.

“You’re pretty great,” I said.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.” We stared a quiet moment, just watching each other and smiling, and then a familiar feeling came over me, a tingling in my gut, and a warmth on my lips. I focused on his mouth, and he took a step toward me.

“Trent . . .”

He shook his head, leaned in, and closed his eyes. I did the same, waiting to feel his lips on mine.

The toilet flushed, and we both pulled away. The air between us was suddenly thick and tense. As the anticipation of what we were about to do melted away, an overwhelming awkwardness replaced it.

Olive stood in the hallway, staring at us. She itched her elbow, and then her nose. “Lunch?”

I offered an apologetic half smile. “I need to make a grocery run.”

“Good plan,” Trenton said, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together. “Supermarket?”

Olive grinned from one ear to the other. “Can I sit in the basket that’s also a cawr?”

Trenton looked to me, while helping Olive with her coat.

“Sure!” I said, realizing now why Trenton was so dedicated to making her happy. Making her smile was addictive.

Olive did a little dance, and then Trenton began to dance. He looked absolutely ridiculous, so I joined in, too.

We danced all the way out to the parking lot, with no music at all. Trent pointed to his Intrepid, but I stopped at my Jeep.

“You always drive. I’ll drive this time. I have more trunk space for groceries, anyway.”

“You don’t have a trunk,” Trenton said.

“I have a trunk equivalent.”

“I have Olive’s car seat.”

“It’s fairly easy to switch out, isn’t it?”

Trenton shook his head. “I . . . have a thing. About riding with girls.”

“Is that because of Mackenzie, or is that a sexist remark?”

“Since the accident.”

I nodded. “Okay, then. But you’re going to let me reimburse you for gas.”

“You can pitch in for dinner,” he said.

“Rock on,” I said, then I bent my elbow and held my fist in the air, lifting my index finger and pinky.

Olive looked at her own hand and tried to do the same. “Wok on!” she said, once she mastered it.

We drove to the store, and while we walked down the aisles, I felt very domestic, and it was a little exciting. Not that I wanted kids of my own or anything—yet—but doing something so mundane with Trenton was oddly exhilarating. But the feeling didn’t last long. T.J. and I had never done anything like this, and now this simple grocery trip made me feel shame. Even though it made no sense whatsoever, a flash of resentment burned through my veins. I couldn’t be happy with T.J., and now he was robbing me of happiness when he wasn’t around, too. Of course it wasn’t his fault, but it was easier to blame him than to acknowledge my own shortcomings.

Nothing made sense anymore: why we were still together, why I was spending so much time with Trenton, or why I stayed in a barely-there relationship when I had someone who liked me—and who I liked—two feet away, just waiting for a green light.

Most people would just give up, but they didn’t have T.J. He had come into the Red one night, asked for my number an hour later, and in a few days we went on our first date. I didn’t even have to think about it. Being with him just made sense. T.J. pretty much spent the next week and a half at my apartment, and then for the next three months, he flew home every other weekend. After that, his project began, and I’d only seen him a handful of times. I stopped in the aisle, pretending to look over the soups, but I was really frozen, wondering why I was so committed to T.J., when I wasn’t even sure if we were in a real relationship at this point.

T.J. hadn’t texted me in three days. Before, I reasoned that he was busy with work. But suddenly, realizing what it was like to spend so much time with someone—and loving it—the sporadic texts, phone calls, and the hope of seeing each other one day wasn’t enough. Not even close.

“Chunky vegetable beef with brown gravy?” Trenton asked, holding up a large can. “This is good shit.”

I smiled and gripped the push bar of the grocery cart. “Throw it in. It’s going to come in handy soon when the nights get even colder.”

“You can borrow me anytime. I’m perfect for sweater weather.”

“Be careful. I might hold you to that.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He stopped in the middle of the aisle. “Wait. Really?”

I shrugged. “You were pretty comfortable today.”

“Comfortable? I’m fucking cashmere.”

I burst out laughing, and shook my head. We pushed the basket that doubled as a kid-size car while Olive pretended to steer and crash into things.

“I bet your California boyfriend isn’t as comfortable as I am,” Trenton said as we turned down the deli aisle.

“It’s cold!” Olive said, pretending to shiver. Trenton shed his coat and draped it over her. I reached out for a package of deli meat and tossed it into the basket.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t really remember how soft he is.”

“What is that like? Being with someone you never see?”

“Military wives do it all the time. I don’t really see a point in complaining.”

“But you’re not his wife.”

“Not sure how I could be if we don’t see each other more often.”

“Exactly. So, what keeps you going?”

I shrugged. “I can’t put my finger on it. There’s just something about him.”

“Does he love you?”

Trenton’s direct and very personal question made the muscles in my neck tense. It felt like an attack on our relationship, but I knew those feelings of defensiveness were so strong because Trenton was asking questions that I had asked myself many times. “He does.”

“But he loves California more? He’s in school, right?”

I cringed. I didn’t like talking specifics about T.J. T.J. didn’t like me talking specifics, either. “It’s not school that keeps him there. It’s his job.” Trenton shoved his hands into his pockets. He was wearing a brown leather cuff around his wrist, a brown leather braided bracelet, and the bracelet Olive had made for him. “Do you ever take Olive’s bracelet off?” I asked.

“I promised her I wouldn’t. Don’t change the subject.”

“Why do you want to talk about T.J.?”

“Because I’m curious. I want to know what makes you stay in a relationship like that.”

“Like what?”

“Where you’re not a priority. I don’t get the sense that this guy is an idiot, so I’m trying to figure it out.”

I bit my lip. Trenton was being endearing and making me feel sick about T.J. all at the same time. “It’s kind of like you and Olive. It might not make sense to people standing on the outside, and it sounds weird even when he tries to explain, but he has responsibilities that are important.”

“So are you.”

I leaned into his side, and he put his arm around me, squeezing me even tighter.