The Light in the Wound by Christine Brae Read Free Book Online Page B

so nervous, I didn’t really care where we sat. Ten minutes into the movie, I turned my face to see him staring right at me. I was mesmerized by his nearness. Even in the dark, I could make out his features, but I was afraid to look right at him. He held my face and brushed his thumb across my cheek. He then leaned his head further down and nuzzled my neck.
    “Isabel, you are so pretty. No, exquisite. Beautiful.”
    And then it happened. Our first kiss. Slow and gentle at first, tentative and unsure. He smelled like cool grass and sun and all I wanted to do was inhale him. And though I closed my eyes, I saw him clearly. I had learned in my life that the good things were fleeting, and everything always came to an end. I wanted to remember this moment forever.
    His kiss grew more demanding as I relaxed back on the chair and let him take the lead. We were breathless by the time it was over. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me as we watched the rest of the movie.
    We drove home in a comfortable silence, and his voice broke into my thoughts as we pulled up to my house. “Isabel, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to happen. You. Especially you. We’re from different worlds. I had everything planned out, a course I needed to follow. But I want to be with you so much.”
    “What are you saying, Jesse?” I asked. Dumb question. I knew where this was going.
    “I don’t know, Isabel. I’m afraid I can’t commit to trying to have a relationship at this point. I—”
    “Seriously, Jesse. It’s okay. We were just having fun. Why would you think I’d be expecting anything from you? See you around.”
    I left his car, careful not to slam the door or give any indication that this was starting to hurt.
    My reaction to what had just happened was momentarily placed on hold as I walked into the front entrance of our house. I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, eating her dinner with her hands, half asleep and in a trance-like state.
    “Mom,” I whispered as I bent down to kiss her on the head. “I think you’ve had enough to eat now, let’s get you wiped up and ready for bed.”
    I took a wet towel, cleaned her face and hands and slowly took her upstairs to her bedroom and tucked her into bed.
     

     
    I didn’t shed any tears that night. My emotions were channeled into worrying about my mother. Betty called him a jerk and said I should stop waiting around and just go on with my life. Alicia said he ducked out as soon as he saw her at practice, and Evie just said the hell with it and encouraged me to go for one of Betty’s friends. Despite the hurt that I felt from Jesse’s rejection, I found myself reliving the days of my childhood.
    Memories of those years came flooding back as I vividly recalled the years in which we were shuffled back and forth between homes, or for visits to the rehab centers where my mother often stayed. One of the centers she lived in was a drab looking building two hours away from the city. Sitting in a cold waiting room with toys and coloring books while waiting for my mother to emerge from her counseling session was a weekly routine for me.
    It wasn’t my mother I was visiting then — my mother was always impeccably dressed, with not a stray hair on her head. This was someone else in a hospital gown with frayed ribbons on them. Sometimes, the ribbons extended down her arm into tight long sleeves. Other times, they would just be sewn on the back of her gown. I was allowed in her bedroom where I would watch TV and read until the day came to a close. The few times I was there affected me the rest of my life. I can still close my eyes and envision the filthy yellow walls and cold metal hospital beds that smelled of rubbing alcohol.
    Maybe some things just never changed.
     

     
    Two weeks later, I was in the barn, untacking Pepe from a ride and brushing his tail before hosing him down. Pepe was cross tied and I had just