Endless Burn

  Endless Burn

  Endless Burn

  Midpoint

  Endless Burn

  Lydia wanted to push her arms out and stretch the walls. A scream built in her, deep in the pit of her stomach. The muscles in her arms twitched with the need to make space. There wasn’t enough room for her when Josh was there. His presence so large, so bold, it reduced her to a particle of dust, floating in the bright streams of light radiating from him. The air in her lungs too thin, the space between them to cavernous. When he moved, her body followed, pulled by invisible Marionette strings he wasn’t even aware he controlled.

  Though it’d been only hours, she felt as if months had elapsed since she’d seen him, been in the same room with him, been near him. All her efforts to concentrate were foiled by his presence. He took up too much room in her head and in her heart. Her physicality paled in comparison to his.

  But it was better, so much better, when he was there. His absence carved out a hole in the universe. Like heaven missing Michael. Like Hell absent of Lucifer. If this was Hell, she would gladly burn to cinders to be near him again. The singe of her flesh a comfort. The wings of her dark angel a salve for the endless burn.

  She busied herself with a menial task. Nothing of consequence, but enough to keep her from sighing in pain and simultaneous relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his form approaching. Lydia knew he didn’t do it because he wanted to, more because the nearness was unavoidable. She’d take it. Intention meant little anymore.

  “Hello. How are you?” Josh said. His voice, only a quiet murmur, washed over her. She basked in the rich whisper he bestowed upon her. Every acknowledgement from him had become a delicious lash to be savored. She let it slide over her skin, her neck tingling, and enjoyed the high of the lightheadedness. She let his flavor roll around on her tongue, her mouth watering as the inches between them lessened one by one. Then he was gone. Moved on to whatever needed tending to. Not her.

  “Hi. I’m good, thanks.” Her smile none too broad, eye contact minimal. No point in getting carried away or imagining her relevance to be any more than it was. Long ago she’d become a fixture in the world. No longer a draw of intrigue or a point of fascination. She accepted her new place in life with a resigned sadness. The pieces of him like bread crumbs, keeping her alive, but always hungry. She devoured them with deep appreciation.

  Her thirty-second birthday had come and gone, taking with it her boyfriend of the past eight years, Carson. She wasn’t what she used to be, he said. He’d met someone else, he explained. Lydia didn’t have to see her to know; the new someone would be younger than her by at least five years, with a sparkling smile and shiny blond hair. Just as she looked when he met her. She was “old” now, slight crows feet crinkling at the edges of her bland hazel eyes when she smiled and her high maintenance bleached-blond hair long since abandoned for her natural flaming auburn mane.

  Alone and used up, her good years withered away, their memory tinted with the sepia tones of the past, all she had left was her secret obsession with Josh, her boss at Wired, the trendy coffee shop in town. Carson had discouraged her from making a career for herself, arguing that once they had kids she’d want to stay home and be the ideal picture of motherhood. Kids, she laughed to herself, he’d never even proposed. She had stood by him as he built his law firm, now the top in Century City, from the ground up, making his life her priority and putting her destiny on hold. Lydia had dreams of taking her psychology degree further, possibly helping kids in school or having a practice of her own, but those dreams had been incinerated with along with the pictures of Carson which once adorned her walls.

  She wished someone would come in an order something to keep her mind off Carson, off of Josh, off of everything. Loud music bemoaning unfounded post-adolescent angst blared from the speakers set in the corners of the shop. When Lydia first started at Wired, listening to rage screams and screeching guitar riffs all day gave her a pounding headache, but she was used to it now. It made the empty silence of her apartment a relief. Almost enjoyable, really.

  Dragging a huge column of napkins wrapped in brown paper out from under the counter, she set about refilling the gaping mouths of the napkin holders whether they needed it or not. Anything to keep her from indulging in her obsession with Josh. It was no use. As she shoved handful after handful in the spring loaded containers, her eyes drifted to him.

  Watching Josh move around, she felt as if he was a spiritual entity; not completely solid, fluid in his form and motion. Even though he’d never be hers, Lydia could sit and watch this beautiful creature for the rest of her days. Maybe this was her own Garden of Eden, temptation at every turn. Maybe it was better she stay locked out of his heaven. Was he the serpent or the apple? Hard to tell.

  Utilizing her peripheral vision, she enjoyed soaking in his shape, all sharp angles and rough edges. His dark hair perfectly parted in its retro rockabilly cut. Bits of black ink peeked out from the sleeves of his white T-shirt. A visceral longing erupted in her heart. What a fantastic adventure it would be to seek out the full pictures that’d been etched into his flesh. She wouldn’t ask silly questions about their origins or meanings. She would let the images reveal his stories. They were better through her eyes, anyway.

  Fantasies of peeling off his T-shirt to reveal ink-adorned biceps flooded her mind. She wondered what other parts of his torso or back might be marred with such beauty, intrigued at the thought that he might even have piercings; a nipple, or possibly his tongue. Though if he did, he had never let so much as a glint show at work. The thought of Josh and a tongue piercing, followed by what she’d like him to do with it, made her blush. As heat flared deep in her belly, she went back over to the counter and placed her hands against the cool faux-granite top.

  “You okay?” Josh’s hand draped over her shoulder for only a second. Lydia jumped and her right arm flung out nearly toppling over a stack of recycled paper coffee cups so high they towered over her five-foot-three-inch frame. Composing herself, she grimaced through her embarrassment.

  “Ya, I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

  “Wild night?” He smirked at her as if to imply she had been a part of a torrid love affair.

  Lydia gave a small laugh, “Not unless you consider watching the Twilight Zone marathon on SciFi channel with Brutus a wild night.”

  “Your boyfriend’s name is Brutus,” Josh asked with incredulity.

  Allowing the last vestiges of her bravery to take hold, she looked Josh directly in the eye. “Yes, he’s very hairy and has a tail, but I work around it,” she said with a little laugh and a returned smirk. “Brutus is my dog. A Chihuahua, to be exact.” Lydia enjoyed how it felt to let out little dribbles of her old self. The flirty and sarcastic girl she used to be. The girl Carson had ignored until all the life drained out of her.

  Lydia shrunk inside herself again when he didn’t look away. His rich brown eyes held onto hers as if she might say something so very important he not dare miss a word. It’d been so long since someone looked at her so intently, she felt the reaction ripple through her whole body. She couldn’t hold his eye contact any longer and spoke to the cash register instead. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Really?” Josh sounded surprised. His eyes narrowed and the hint of a smile pulled at his lips. Lydia admired the way his dark lashes looked against his olive skin and wondered if that wasn’t a bit of mischief she saw in his expression.

  But witty Lydia had retreated again and all she could do was nod. The slight sting heated shame flushed across her face and neck. She could feel the itchy reminder of her embarrassment across her chest as the blood raced just below the surface of her skin.

  Josh didn’t say anything else. He took a rag and went to wipe
down the tables in preparation for the after-school rush, leaving Lydia to recuperate from the adrenaline crash of his nearness.

  ***

  The three o’clock avalanche of teenage customers were the same group as always. The boys with their blue-black hair covering their eyes and narrow-legged jeans held up with thick leather belts heavily adorned with metal studs. And the girls with their thick eye liner and brightly colored hairstyles meant to declare their rejection of society but really signified their membership to the not-so-elite club of suburbanite teenagers who worked at being pissed off about nothing. Loud and raucous, Lydia enjoyed watching them when she worked the late shift. She didn’t envy them, but the way they could be pouty and carefree, simultaneously, reminded her of the whimsy that came with youth. They held the world in the palm of their hands and didn’t even know it. It was a blissful kind of stupidity.

  Josh chatted with the high school girls, expertly side stepping their flirting without destroying their fragile egos. Lydia’s heart skipped a beat every time he flashed a warm smile at the guys as they tried their best to hide how badly they craved his mentor-like approval, showing him their new skateboard or playing the song they just downloaded to their iPod. His teeth, all perfectly aligned, gracing those around him with pure delight. When Josh smiled at someone, they felt as if they were the only person in the room. It was no wonder everyone fell at his feet. Lydia’s thoughts drifted again to what it would be like to run her tongue along his front teeth, their sharp edges threatening to slice the tip of her sensitive flesh. What a delicious pain that would be, to have Josh draw her blood. To offer up her very essence in sacrifice to him would be an honor she would preform without hesitation.

  “See ya later, Ross. Tell your mom I said, ‘what up’,” Josh said as the last of the stragglers cleaned up their trash and deposited their dirty plates and mugs in the thick plastic dish tub next to the trash bin. Only Josh could make rebellious teenagers want to clean up after themselves.

  Coming from anyone else, Ross would have exploded in a fit of insulted rage, but he just waved his hand behind him and said, “Fuck you. See you tomorrow.”

  Ross’ friend Worthington, whose real name was John but chose to go by the excessively formal middle name his parents burdened him with as revenge, hovered at the register looking as if he wanted to say something. Lydia didn’t mind. She had gained a certain respect for him after learning of his quirky sense of rebellion.

  “Want anything for the road,” Lydia asked.

  “No, I’m just...” he squeaked, swallowing hard and dashing out the door to catch up with Ross without finishing his sentence.

  She shrugged at Josh and he laughed with a subtle shake of his head.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. “They all love you.”

  “They’re good kids. That’s why I opened this place. Kids need somewhere to be themselves. Most of them get a ration of shit for their hair or their clothes at home and at school. People look at them like they’re thugs, criminal and drug addicts when they walk in to a place. Store owners follow them around and shoo them out as quickly as possible to keep the other customers comfortable. It doesn’t happen here and they respect me for that.”

  Lydia stammered, confounded by his acute analysis of the conflicted adolescent psyche. “My mom always said, ‘I’ll let you win the hair and clothing battles, but I will always win when it matters.’”

  “And I bet you were a pretty easy kid, too,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.

  “I was all right. No drugs, no drinking, got good grades, but I took her up on the hair and clothing offer.”

  “Lemme guess, pink hair and Creepers.”

  “Close. Purple hair and combat boots.”

  “I should have known, you’re not a pink kinda girl.”

  Lydia marveled at the way Josh spoke as if he knew her. She had been staring out the glass front of the shop, but when she turned to look at him there was a frightening familiarity to him. So few conversations had been shared between them in the past year, nevertheless, comfort hung in the air as if her soul knew his and an invisible thread connected them in a way she didn’t quite understand.

  Chastising herself for letting her imagination run away again, Lydia decided she should remove herself from the room before she lost the tenuous hold she had on her sanity.

  She’d finally put her finger on it.

  Insane. Josh made her feel insane. He jumbled her reality and twisted himself into her every thought. Lydia wanted to weep for the way she’d imprisoned herself in this world of obsessive fantasy. She couldn’t escape, bound by the bars of his perfection, and wouldn’t leave the cage even if he released her.

  “I’m taking the trash out,” she announced. Her hand wound tightly around the bag. Sweat formed in the creases of her palm, suffocated out by the flimsy plastic. The cool evening air washed over her as she deposited the clear garbage bag, heavy with coffee remnants and discarded pastries, into the dumpster in the parking lot behind Wired.

  Lydia leaned against the stuccoed exterior wall of the shop. The little points of concrete poked at her back. She welcomed the way they forced her to come back to reality. Josh’s car sat in its “reserved” spot, shimmering with dew in as the winter sun left behind a powder blue sheen along the horizon. Storm clouds had taken over the high skies.

  She wished she could write on the windows of his car with her finger and tell him all the things she thought, for only him to see, until the rain came and absolved her of her sins. Instead, she kept them to herself, the oils of her skin remaining locked away from his memory. When she had stopped making Carson smile, for a while she let herself find comfort in her delusions, imagining her very presence could make Josh smile. Not a word or touch needed, all she had to do was walk in the room. She believed she could feel the air shift, the tension easing from both of their shoulders. But when Carson finally left, she let her self confidence walk right out the door with him, taking with it her belief that anyone else would ever feel that way about her again.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said, pressing her palms against the thorn-like protrusions jutting out from the wall’s surface. The pain gave her reason to allow the tears to escape without admitting defeat over her emotions.

  The back screen slammed and she knew Josh was coming out, probably with the other trash bag she’d never returned to take to the dumpster.

  “Shit,” she said. His hands were empty.

  “Been out here a while. Thought I’d make sure you weren’t hooking up with that charmer, Worthington.”

  She sniffled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh please, like you don’t know that kid is falling all over himself for you. It’s nice of you not to embarrass him, though.”

  “Wha...” She couldn’t finish her protest. Lydia stood brushing the plaster bits from her palms and begging God to send Josh back inside before the conversation got any more uncomfortable.

  “I don’t blame him,” he said, taking a step close to her. Lydia froze, bewildered as Josh wiped a tear from her cheek she hadn’t realized she’d missed. “Usually girls do that ugly cry, but you’re even more beautiful when you’re sad.”

  Lydia thought for sure she was asleep. This had to be a dream. Maybe she was daydreaming, standing at the cash register again, overhearing Josh say these words to someone else and wishing they were for her.

  The warmth of his skin sent a shiver down her spine as he slid his hand under her hair and wrapped it around her neck. He pulled her close, leaving the slightest space between her panting mouth and his parted lips. Josh’s eyes never left hers. Lydia thought she might just die right there, positive her heart couldn’t take it if this turned out to be a mirage brought on by her pathetic desperation.

  She could taste each breath he exchanged in the bubble between them. Lydia’s knees went weak at the faint hit of cinnamon that accompanied his air as it came into her lungs. Josh brought her to his lips with a torturous calm.
Dizzy with anticipation, when his mouth finally pressed against hers, gravity ceased to exists. The world had stopped spinning, she was sure of it, and time stretched on to infinity.

  It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, Lydia had no concept of time anymore. She would live on this moment forever. He deepened the kiss, much to her surprise and delight. Though she wanted the kiss to never end, she pulled back to survey Josh’s face.