by Daisy Allen
I can't keep my hands off her, and luckily, she feels the same. I feel my body gravitate to her as soon as she is in view, needing to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside her.
She meets my need with her own and we spend hours naked in the tent together, exploring our bodies and what they can do together.
"That tickles," she wriggles, as I run my tongue along the inner thigh of her left leg.
It’s the night after her final dance performance and I have just spent the last hour watching her in awe as she embodied the melding of music and movement. And now I want to show her how she made me feel through the mutual exploration of our sexuality.
She’s made me, not just my mind and my brain, come alive. She’s made me finally understand the use of my body. And that is to bring her pleasure. To make her scream my name in a voice that’s husky with lust.
She is my addiction.
I ignore her protestations at my tickling her and I shush her, my voice muffled between her legs as I slide my tongue inside her; her body stiffens and her protests soon fade on her lips. The sweat on her skin is slightly salty, but inside she tastes as sweet as ever
I lap at her, never getting enough and when she comes on my mouth, I drink every last drop.
"You spoil me," she sighs happily when we're done and I pull her against my chest, feeling myself content beyond measure.
"You spoil me by letting me spoil you," I tell her. I mean every word.
The only thing that mars our time together is the worry I see in her eyes as she waits for news on her future. The more time I spend with her, the more I see her pursuit for perfection. She talks about her last performance dance constantly, what had gone right, what had gone wrong, what she could’ve done differently.
Her rants inevitably turn into talk of our future together. The very thought of ever spending a day apart becomes unbearable. But while her dream seems so much more concrete that mine, she knows I have my own ambitions. Just that I have no way of achieving mine.
“There are ways, Xavier. You will be a lawyer. We will find a way.”
I don’t tell her there’s no money. Not right now. But she’s right. I will find a way, and the only way is by her side.
“You know, you told me what you love about the law, but you’ve never really told me what you want to do with it. Is it so you can afford a giant apartment and a fleet of Rolls Royces?” she asks as she lies with her head on my stomach as I lean against a tree trunk, staring out over the lake. There’s the sound of a whistle as a man calls his dog back to his side.
I twirl a lock of her golden hair around my finger and watch it catch the light.
“Well, the law isn’t the same for everyone.”
“What do you mean? They aren’t different laws for different people.”
“No, there shouldn’t be. But there are different ways to interpret the law for different people. And one of the great differences between the haves and have nots is their lawyer. I want to be the equalizer. I want to help people who can’t afford to get good help. Those finding themselves on the wrong side of a law interpreted to benefit just the rich.”
She nods and closes her eyes, “That’s better than a giant apartment.”
“I think so too.”
“I mean, maybe you can both!” she giggles, the vibrations travelling up my stomach muscles and into my heart and I can’t help but laugh along.
“Maybe, sweetheart. Maybe.”
By the time the last day of our high school years comes around, the summer has taken a strong hold of Maine. I walk down the front steps of my school, knowing there won't be a person I’ll miss from here. A year from now I’ll be surprised if anyone even remembers my name. But I smile as I say goodbye to this part of my life anyway. Because when I think ahead, to today, tomorrow and my future, I know there is one person who will remember me.
She's already there when I reach the basketball courts. Music is blaring from her iPod, and her hips swaying as she stands in front of her almost finished mural.
I try to divert my eyes, as always. As curious as I am to take a close look, take it all in, this was never about me. It was my gift to her. To give her the space to explore this side of her. And when she's ready, she'll share it with me.
I sneak up behind her, this summer's pop hit covering the sound of my footsteps.
In one movement I grab her by the waist, pulling her into me, as I tuck my chin against the hot skin of her neck.
Her squeals are muffled by her lips catching on my cheek as she turns her face to see who's intruded on her time to create.
"Xavey!" She giggles, half because she knows I hate the nickname but won't ever tell her to stop, half because she can't control the sunshine inside her. Even in the cold, dark evenings we've spent huddled in the tent by the lake, I'm warmed just by the smile on her face when she looks at me.
"Happy last day of school, baby," I whisper against her ear. I love that there exists a whole world in the space between her body and mine.
"Happy last day back to you! We're free!" She turns around, throws her hands up and jumps into air. I catch her on the way down and spin her around as she whoops.
Her lips fall on mine as she lowers her face and I kiss her like I've been wanting to do since the minute she left me last night. When we pull apart, she makes a little sigh that thrills me. All the way down to my toes, squeezing her warm body tight against me.
"Too hot! It's too hot for cuddles right now," she laughs and pushes me away, her feet touching the ground again. I grumble and she pokes her tongue out as I wander over to my spot on the wall, cast in shade from the angle of the afternoon sun.
She follows me and waits until I settle on the ground before she settles into my lap, I wrap my arm around her waist and we stare at the basketball court baking in the hot summer sun.
"I thought it was too hot for cuddles," I say, my face against her back.
She doesn't say anything, just sighs and leans back against me.
We don't talk for a few moments, and that's okay with me.
"Xavey?" she whispers a while later as my eyelids are drooping, my hands now resting loosely on her hips.
"Hmmm?"
"I... um, I got a letter today. “As soon as the words leave her mouth, I feel my body tense. And I know she feels it. She twists around and looks at me, even as I try to look away. "I haven't read it yet. I was waiting for you." She slides her hand into the pocket of her denim shorts and pulls out a folded white envelope. Already I can spot the school’s address in the top left-hand corner. New York.
Love is a strange thing; it can make you want two opposing things in equal quantity at once.
I want nothing but for her to be happy. But what will make her happy is the exact opposite of what would make me happy. To have her by my side, here.
"Read it," I say, nodding gently, trying to smile.
She doesn't smile back, but slides her finger into an open corner of the envelope, slowly, deliberately, breaking the seal.
She takes a deep breath, a silent prayer on her lips.
"Wait." I stop her before she reads it. Her eyes catch mine, confused.
"Whatever it says, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere," I say. Even if you are, I can't help thinking.
She nods and unfolds the single sheet of paper. She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. Her eyes flutter open and she scans the first few lines of the letter.
She doesn’t read it out loud but the instant twinkle in her eyes tells me everything. She drops the hand holding the letter into her lap and grins at me.
"They took me off the wait list. I'm in.” She exhales the breath as if she’s been holding her breath for months. I pull her to me instantly, hugging her tightly, my heart bursting with happiness for her.
"You're in?"
"I'm IN!" she yells and jumps to her feet. Twirling, her arms outstretched. Feeling everything in the moment.
I drag myself to my feet and follow her, unable to c
ontain the joy I feel for her right now. I don't even need to pretend. This, this is how she should always feel and I'm going to make it my goal in life to guarantee she will.
"You. Are. Going. To. NEW YORK!" I yell, emphasizing every word once the twirling stops and she comes back to stand in front of me.
She grins at my words and launches herself at me, knowing I will catch her.
"I'm going to New York! Oh, my god! I'm going to be a dancer! XAVIER! Can you believe it?!”
"You are a dancer, baby. Now the whole world is going to know it!"' I tell her. And mean it. The world is going to know the beauty of my girl.
"You know what this moment needs?" I ask her, my eyes serious.
"What?" she asks, her eyes wide.
"An inaugural swim in the lake.”
"Ooooh, you think it's warm enough?"
"I think... it doesn't matter. We're going to do it anyway." I grab her hand and we run, run so hard we can barely keep up with ourselves.
It's almost completely dark when we finally get out of the water. The goosebumps covering every inch of our bodies ignored by us.
I turn on the string of fairy lights I've strung up around the tent just for her and wrap my biggest towel around her shoulders. Her jaw shakes a little as she thanks me, and I can't help but laugh at the tinge of blue lining her lips. She was the one who had refused to get out of the water even when the sky had almost lost all color.
Facing the wall of the tent, I pull off my wet shorts and wrap my towel around my waist, trying not to stare too much at the shadow of her wriggling out of her own wet clothes.
I settle back onto the air mattress on the floor of the tent, watching as she brushes the wet hair off her face and lies down next to me. The blanket is warm and soft on our skin as we shake it over our shivering bodies. She giggles as my hands try to warm her, running up and down her arms.
"Hey," she whispers, her face upturned to mine, the flickering shadows from the fairy lights bathing her in a warm, soft light. I just smile back at her, and drop a kiss on her forehead. "I have to go, you know," she says, and I nod.
"I wouldn't have it any other way." The smallest frown flickers across her face and I run a finger over her cheek. "Shhh, you know what I mean. I'm so happy for you. You are meant to go and study dance in New York and be everything you always wanted to be."
"And you?"
"And I... will be right there, beside you. Watching and cheering you on."
She pushes gently on my chest as she sits up.
"You're going to come with me?"
"You had any doubt?"
"But... how? You have your family and..."
How will we afford it? is what she wants to say. And I don't have an answer yet.
"I'll find a way. It might not work out right away. And it might be hard. Are you game?"
She giggles as she settles in against me.
"More game than ever."
***
It doesn’t take me long to find a summer job at a lawyer's office downtown. Lawsuits don't go away, even if lawyers do for vacation. It's menial, mind numbing labor; I file endless case notes, answer phones, hand out mail, and drink in everything I can while I'm there. I find excuses to come into the conference rooms during negotiations and depositions, and take on any job that needs doing. I learn fast and it shows, and I start being assigned tasks beyond my experience.
I sneak away for my lunch hours to the basketball courts and join Malynda, who seems more intent that ever to finish her mural. Before it was just a work in progress, now it seems it's her farewell to this town she grew up in.
But summer comes and goes, and soon just as quickly as early as heat descended on us, so does the crisp fall come encroaching before it is due.
Soon, it's only a few days before it's time for her to leave and for me to still remain.
The job at the lawyer's office pays more than the Dairy Joy, of course, but not by much. My bank account is a leaking bucket, what with helping out at home. But the numbers do start to add up, slowly. I hope that by the spring term, I can join her.
I don't tell her about the schools I've applied to, resolving to only tell her when there’s something concrete. Only something good.
It's all I ever want to be in her life.
The good.
"Xavey! Look how big they are now!" Malynda dangles on one leg, half way up the tree branch, peering down at one of the other bird's nests we'd found that had recently hatched.
I look up from the grill I've set up by the lake, fanning the smoke from my face as the charcoal catches light.
"I know, I'm surprised they can still fit in there. Time to move out of home, buddies."
"Nooo, stay there forever. Stay little forever. Don't leave home," she coos at the little chirping, hungry mouths.
"Are you talking to the birds or yourself?"
"I was giving them some of my wisdom," she says, wryly.
"I thought it was some of your cold feet." I pull her legs into my lap and tickle the soles of her feet, making her squirm. "You're going to be great."
"I'm going to miss you so much."
"Good!” I say.
She scrunches up her face and nudges me with her toes. "How long, again?"
"Five, six months, tops."
"Promise?" I answer her with a kiss. "Okay. I guess I can wait four months," she sighs, pouting.
"Five or six! You won't even notice the time go by, I'll be there before you know it."
***
Dear Xavier,
I'm sorry.
I've put this letter off for too long.
Don't come here for me.
I won't be here.
I've met someone else. Another dancer. I'm leaving New York to be with him.
I'm so sorry.
I know it wasn't supposed to work out this way, I didn't expect it to.
I hope you can forgive me someday.
Take care.
Be happy.
x
ten
Her
Present Day
Ten a.m. is a weird part of the day. Most people are at work already, or, considering this is midtown Manhattan, a lot of people started four or five hours ago. But the crazy chaos of the peak hour is dying down, there are a few stragglers coming in and out of coffee shops, older gentlemen with the Times tucked under their arms and the younger crowd staring down at their phones, a Starbucks in the other hand. Everyone keeping to themselves as the traffic starts to become fluid again after the gridlock of the morning rush hour.
My car stops by the side of the road, arriving at my destination. Normally, I jump right out, ready to start whatever lunch/meeting/appointment I have planned, on the go, never stopping from six a.m. to midnight. Trying to fit as much into my day as possible, which isn't that hard here in New York City. There's always someone perfectly happy to talk work to you at any hour of the day.
But right now, the last thing I feel like doing is stepping out of this car and making my way to my rendezvous.
I want to tell the driver this was a mistake, to turn around and drive. And just keep driving until I forget. Forget what I was here for. Forget his face. Forget his name. Forget like I've been trying to forget for twelve long years.
I should just turn around and walk away. Nothing good is going to come of this. Not for me and not for him. Take the easy way out, write the check, and pretend that Xavier had never come back into my life.
Not that he ever left.
The mind is a terrible thing. It can make you feel like time is no object. Years can go by and yet, you can transport yourself back in the space of a split second. Back to that tent by the lake, sunburned skin kissed by his lips, and your fingernails on his back. Like it was just yesterday and not a lifetime ago.
"Miss?" The driver is antsy to earn his next dollar.
I mumble thanks, gather my bags and linger one last second on the door handle before I step out.
A gust of wind knocks me off my ce
nter and I stumble, trying not to drop the black portfolio in my arms, hugging it tightly to my chest. I feel a hand against the small of my back, stopping me from falling.
"Woah. Steady. What've you got in there that's so important?"
I know the voice, but I take a moment to steady myself before I look up.
Into those green eyes.
"Um, hi," I mumble, making a show of twisting and turning, making sure I didn't drop anything, as an excuse to move away from his hand on my back. I'm a little surprised when I notice he already had dropped his hand. Then why could I still feel the heat against me?
"No, really. What's in that thing?" he says, pointing to the folder gripped in my hand.
"It's my portfolio. And some notes. You didn't really tell me what you were looking for, so I don't have a lot of ideas yet."
"Well, that's why we're here. I was just coming back from a meeting. Good timing, you can come up with me." He gestures his head towards the building's entrance, and for a moment I resent him. How can he be acting so normally? Why isn't this harder for him?
Like it's hard for you? my brain taunts me. Every moment in his presence right now, is like walking on nails. I feel like I have to remind myself to do the most basic of things. Breathe, blink, stand, breathe again. And yet it seems like this is nothing to him.
Maybe it is.
I can't tell you if that makes me feel better or worse.
I follow him as the doorman holds open the door for us, almost banging into him when he stops to say something to the doorman that makes him throw his head back with laughter. The doorman gives me a wink as I pass him and I return it with a weak smile.
The lobby is small and quiet. My shoes click against the marble floor as we stand waiting for the elevator.
"What floor are you on?" I ask, just to break the ice.
"31," he says, just as the elevator arrives, waving his key fob over the scanner.
" And how many floors in this building?"
