#emdrabble

She doesn’t know who get’s her number– to call her. She is at home, sleeping peacefully with Keiko curled into her side when they call- voice rushed, telling her to come to the studio and she almost hung up–until they mention Kade’s name and Over Dose in the same sentence. She almost chokes on her breath– her heart is in her stomach–and she cannot remember how to breathe. “Hospital– get him to the hospital–” She kisses Keiko and calls her brother to come over, she’s grateful he lives down the street–and that he doesn’t judge her, just gives her a hug before she dashes out of the door. 

She doesn’t need this– doesn’t need to be here, doesn’t need to be dealing with this–and she wonders why she never really closed the door when it came to him– why she was speeding like she could do something other than beg his sorry excuse for friends to call an ambulance. She nearly crashes her car–but she gets there in ten minutes–and ignores every red light she comes across.He is in the shower when she get’s there, cold water hitting his face in an attempt to revive him, and they all seem to part for her, and her mis matched pyjamas and furrowed brow. She feels like crying– but there are so many strangers that she retreats into herself. She just needs to figure out how she can help. He is barely lucid– when she steps into the shower with him and holds him up. “Will someone call the fucking ambulance–? Who gives two shits about bad publicity– you want to know what the worst publicity would be? His Funeral– CALL-” She is small–and demanding and they stare at her as if she is a different person than the girl in flowy clothes who gave birth to his daughter. She wonders again who thought to call her.“Baby–” She coos the word into his ear, though she doubts he can hear her. “Don’t fall asleep okay? I’m here–” She murmurs the words and she gets a grunt of acknowledgement. He is out of it. “What the fuck did he take?” she hasn’t sworn this much since she was in labour. The room is silent– and no one wants to say a word, but she is staring them all down. He is breathing too slow for her liking. “Everything–” The answer Kade gives himself, before a silly grin is plastered on its face. From where she is it sounds like a grimace. “Yo–you feel nice lady– who are you? you gonna go? Don’t go– You smell like fuckin’ flowers man–does your pussy smell like flowers–?” She bites back laughter, but someone else in the small room giggles and she sends them a conspirators smile. The water is making her shake– but she doesn’t step out– she holds him up and it takes everything in her body. “I’m Emiko… and I won’t be nice when you wake up. We have a daughter– you know. She’s just getting to know you– she already loves you. But that’s how children are. I’m just– I’m your friend maybe. I’m the girl who taught you how to pick sunflowers– and laugh at the little things. Taught you how to cook breakfast too– remember? The first morning I woke up at your house and you almost burnt it down trying to make me eggs– remember me? In your shirt–with messy hair wondering what I was getting myself into– I think I still smelled like flowers then–” He is still smiling when she finishes but it is gentler now–and she hears the sound of an ambulance. Sees a stretcher coming and relaxes. 

heartkiing

They have never had the same friends— but he isn’t anything like his flock. He is bright—and smart and makes her laugh. He is quiet, and so is she—but she’s never talked as much as when she’s in his presence. She remembers being 17— and losing her virginity to him— she remembers floating afterwards and being tugged down when he kissed her. She remembers her catholic school girl skirt on his bedroom floor on top of his timbs—and remembers how odd she thought the juxtaposition was.

It wasn’t just sex— but she doesn’t say it. She just stays—and doesn’t know that leaving is what she should have done. Sometimes she wonders if that’s what pushed him away— that she was so obvious about how she felt— but he was never the type to hide his emotions. She knew she was just pulling at straws. His crowd now is similar too— and he still stands out. The party is loud—and for the fifth time she wonders what she’s doing here, sitting in his section, next to him but not with him. A few men talk to her, but she keeps it moving, her eyes floating over to his own every few minutes. She hates that he knows her. Wishes she could just let it go—drag some other man to the club bathroom and let him fuck her—but she isn’t that girl. She’s only slept with one other man since Kade— and she regrets it enough to be wary of one night stands— of searching for something in other peoples bodies.

__________

She remembers a Tuesday afternoon— the second time they had sex. His hands were everywhere— and they were supposed to be baking. Her girlish giggles filled the small space— his hands tickling her spurred on the light hearted mood. She was floating again—and it was all his fault. She didn’t say she loved him, but it’s there— plain as the brown in her eyes when she looked up at him. The first kiss was as playful as her laughter but the second was not. She bit down on his bottom lip and pulled him in. Her thighs spread— the dress fell off her shoulders and his mouth was eager for new skin. She was begging in minutes— wet in less—and trying to figure the rhythm of it out. She just wanted. She didn’t think. He got rid of the dress then— and let his fingers find the seat of her panties-translucent with her wetness. She blushed and ducked her head and she remembers his voice.

“Nah— don’t do that. What are you embarrassed about? You’re beautiful.”

He fucks her.

It isn’t love making— it’s desperate lusty sex— as if he’s proving a point to her. She lost herself in it, in the rhythm of his body—and the way he pulls her in. She was a heap of yeses— of his name— of her nails digging into the skin of her back. She mumbles filthy things in his ear—things she will recollect later and blush dark red at having said.

He fucks her. And makes sure she knows it’s alright— that he wants her— that he’s just as needy, just as desperate for it. That she shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Shouldn’t be ashamed of wet panties— dirty words or skirt hiked up around her waist.

Oh he fucks her.

But it isn’t just sex.

_______

It’s hard not to remember the way he felt— hard not to remember how he feels inside her, and it makes her blush—makes this party warmer than it should be. Blurs lines and confuses her decisions. He left. He left. He left. And he took his afterglow smile and warm hands with him. Took her heart too but she won’t admit it. She takes another drink, and gives him a smile. It’s too similar to the one she gave him in the kitchen— the one she gave him in his car. The kind she hasn’t given him in 3 years.

“You bring out feelings in me I never show—

Nobody has made me feel this way for you--”

She’s singing the song— without thinking— grooving in her seat, and catching his eyes every few lines. To everyone else it doesn’t look like much, it’s just her mouthing words and Kade watching with that ever-knowing look she’s seen on his daughter’s face.

“I’m a good girl— but I wanna be bad for you.”

And it’s too much— it’s too similar to something she’s said in a past life—in their past life. The smile on her lips is sad—but her panties are still wet and it’s a mind fuck.