AFTER
I know it's morning before I open my eyes.
Sunlight pours from the shutters of my window and onto my face. I bask in the warmth, feeling happy and content.
And then I remember why I'm feeling happy and content.
My eyes snap open.
Did I have the best wet dream ever? Or did I really have oral sex with my stepfather last night?
I quickly get my answer when I feel the evidence against my damp tights and his scent all over my sheets. I had oral sex with Drew. My stepfather. The person I trust most in the world.
A wave of mixed emotions hits me like a tidal wave.
Guilt is what hits me the hardest, no matter how cold my relationship with my mother is, I would never want to hurt her like that. Nervousness follows the guilt, the not knowing what, if anything, is going to happen to my relationship with Drew. And fear over losing him. Which sparks the hope that maybe it would be the opposite of losing him, that this thing between us would have a happy ending and everyone would end up getting what they wanted. But then it turns into confusion, because then I remember the way he looked after we were finished, the sadness in his eyes was so tangible I could practically feel it.
This whole thing feels like a big fat salad made of barely edible ingredients, and suddenly everything is too hard to swallow.
I'm parched all of a sudden. I get off my bed and run to the bathroom. I fill the glass on my sink to the brim and gulp it down. My hands start shaking, and all I can think is
I can't lose him, I can't lose him, I can't lose him...
I take a few deep breaths and realize it's too early to start panicking now. I should go talk to Drew first, see how he feels about this, and then I can decide if it's worth hyperventilating over. I sigh, and start taking off my clothes, going about my morning routine like any other day.
I take my morning shower, swallowing my vitamins on my way to go to pick my outfit. Not too sexy, but not too casual either. Something that gives Drew the impression that although having sex with me was a big mistake, it was also the best mistake he's ever made.
I settle on a short black sundress with flowers on it, and an off white cardigan over it, the prefect combination of sexy and cute.
I wear my hair down, and apply the tiniest amount of makeup not wanting to overdo it.
When I'm finished I head over to the kitchen, on the outside seeming gloriously casual, while all on the inside four monkeys are doing the Mambo, and thoroughly enjoying it let me tell you.
I sigh in relief when I realize my mother is the only one there. She's stunning as ever, in her elegant pantsuit that looks like it cost more than a kidney. It probably did.
Her blonde hair is pinned back in a tight bun and her blue eyes fixed on the folder in front of her, probably her current case.
She clutches the coffee mug in front of her and takes a sip, "Morning, Cadence." she says, not looking up from her work.
"Morning mom." I answer, going over to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the whole city.
Living in one of New York's highest skyscrapers is not a hardship. This has been part of my morning ritual for years now, going over to the window and appreciating everything I have and being grateful for it. It's always been important for Drew to teach me that I shouldn't take anything for granted. That every moment is fleeting and that I should appreciate what I have before it's too late.
It also helped me put everything into perspective, looking at how big and beautiful the world is made my problems seem blissfully small.
I felt rather then heard Drew coming into the room. He's always had this strong influence on people when he walked into a room, like everyone should stop what they're doing and stare at him. I like that, I think it's sexy. But unfortunately so did every female friend I've ever had over.
"Good morning." he says, coming over to me and kissing the side of my head, just like he always does.
My heart almost explodes with relief when he does this, and it feels like I've just taken my first breath since last night.
"Morning." my mother mutters.
I walk over to the cabinets and take out two bowls. He grabs the milk as I grab the cheerios. I start pouring them into the bowls as he slices half a banana into each one. Everything is so totally normal that I start thinking last night was all a figment of my wild imagination.
I sit on the island dining table and he follows suit, sitting on the chair across from me beside my mother. He hands me a spoon and when our fingers touch, our gazes meet. Something in the heat in his eyes wipes out any doubt I had in my head about last night.
I quickly look away and hunch down in my seat, feeling hot and confused.
"Elbows off the table Cadence. You're not five anymore." my mother says. And I blink at her in surprise. I forgot she was there for a second.
She looks up when she notices I haven't given her my usual snarky reply. And then she looks down at my outfit, "What are you wearing Cadence? Are you going to school or a hooters job interview?" she asks. My jaw drops.
"What are you talking about mom? This outfit is cute, every girl wears clothes like these!" I say, trying to keep my voice down.
"Well, you're not every girl. Your boobs are practically hanging out and your legs are leaving nothing to the imagination. Is this what you call fashion?" she replies, sipping her coffee in a calm manner as if nothing fazes her.
I, meanwhile, am fantasizing about jumping over the table and strangling her.
I admit my breasts are bigger than average but the dress is fairly modest and comes down to mid thigh.
Drew must be able to read the violent thoughts going through my head because he says, "Genevieve ,I think you're overreacting a little bit. She's eighteen, she's old enough to have her own fashion style, even if it doesn't always agree with yours."
"She may have her own fashion style, Andrew, as long as it doesn't make her look cheap. And this outfit does. I say we burn it and go buy new clothes. How about that Cadence? We can make Saturday a girl's day out and go shopping." She says, clearly attempting to lighten the mood.
I try not to gape at her. Her ability to sound so cool and condescending always manages to amaze me.
The thing is, she knows I'm not free on Saturday. Today, Wednesday, is the only day I don't have practice after school. Saturday's and Sunday's are my busiest days of the week because I start practice early and finish late. But my mother just wants it to look like she's trying. So that when I complain about not having her around, she blames it on me, and my busy schedule.
"I can't. I have practice with Mireille." I say, deciding not to snap at her.
She nods, "Alright then, we'll have to reschedule. I might be free on Sun—" she stops talking abruptly, gasping dramatically, "Cadence Ramona Madsen. What in god's name are you eating? "She asks.
Here we go.
"Do you have any idea how many calories are in this? What would Mireille say? Just the other day she asked me if you're consistent with your diet, you want me to lie to her the next time she asks? I won't be put in that situation Cadence!" she snaps.
