Ten minutes might have passed. Maybe even more. I’d stopped thinking about time and death and doubts and everything else. And for a moment, I felt it. I wasn’t fighting the thoughts anymore. My mind was completely quiet. I was still. It felt incredible, like my bones were gone and my whole body was filled with helium instead. I pictured myself lifting off the pew, floating past the edge of the balcony, and traveling over the whole sanctuary like a stray balloon.
“You okay?” I opened my eyes to find Aaron sitting next to me.
It was a simple question, but I didn’t know how to respond. I was okay, and I wasn’t. I pulled my earbuds out and let them drop to my lap.
He hooked his thumb toward the sound booth. “Want to talk?”
I nodded. At least it would be quiet in there.
I waited while he jiggled the key in the lock and carefully opened the door, and then we both slipped inside and walked straight to our stools in front of the computer monitor, like it was our spot.
Aaron didn’t say a word. He sat facing me with his hands on his knees, leaning in, waiting for me to begin.
“My neighbor Emory is an actress,” I said. “Back in sixth grade, she got this part on a TV show. They only shot the pilot and two episodes before it was canceled. But after that, every time we’d watch TV together, she’d narrate what was going on behind the scenes, you know, telling me all the stuff you couldn’t see. She’d point out flaws in the set that no one would have noticed, and tell me how all the actors were probably sitting off to the side, playing on their phones or catching a nap until it was their turn to step into a scene. She said she couldn’t watch TV the same way again. The magic was gone.”
Aaron nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
I looked out the sound booth window. The stage below was empty.
“My dad stood up there, talking about what happened the other day like it was some big miracle, but he never mentioned anything about the paramedics, or the intubation tube, or the medicine they shot into Luke’s arm, or the paddles they brought to his chest after they drove away from us. He only talks about the magic. Like those TV shows, it’s all about the story onstage, and never about what’s going on behind the scenes. He’s in charge of what people see and hear. And they see and hear what he wants them to see and hear.
“I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz,” I continued. “Like I’m peeling back the curtain to find that everything I thought was big and bright and real is really just one guy with a bunch of levers and sound machines, orchestrating the whole thing.”
I was talking fast, like I was afraid if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to finish.
“It’s not that I think my dad’s lying up there. He’s not. He believes everything he’s saying. And if it were a few months ago, I would have believed it, too. I would have loved that story he told today. I would have been in the front row, feeling blessed and honored, like a saint, because God had chosen me to be part of a miracle. But I don’t see it that way anymore.”
Aaron hadn’t taken his eyes off me once.
I combed my fingers through my hair as I gathered my thoughts.
“I don’t want to feel this way. I liked the magic. I liked the show.”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said.
“No, that’s the thing. I’m not sorry. It feels good to be curious. I like questioning everything. I feel awake. But I’m scared, too. I’m afraid that every doubt I have is pulling me away from my dad, and from my mom, and from the people in this church—like Alyssa, and Logan, and Jack, and you—who believe with their whole hearts, because I’m not sure I’m one hundred percent in anymore, you know? And that’s terrifying.”
But it was exhilarating at the same time. I pictured myself as that balloon again, floating around the sanctuary, weightless and free.
“I feel awake. I’m scared to keep opening doors, but I’m so curious to learn what’s behind them. And now I know too much. I can’t go back. I don’t want to.”
When I finally stopped for breath, I realized that Aaron had a huge smile on his face.
“I sound insane, don’t I?”
“No. You sound happy.”
“Do I?” I let out a nervous laugh. “I thought I sounded as confused as I feel.”
“You don’t sound confused at all.”
He was right. I wasn’t confused. I felt strong. Brave. Alive. Red.
Aaron took his cap off and set it on the desk, and I found myself following his movements. My gaze settled on his chest, and then his shoulders, and then his lips. I thought about our text exchange on Friday night, and all the others we’d had over the weekend. I remembered the easy way I’d touched his leg a few days earlier.
And then I must have channeled Alyssa or Emory—the truly daring, truly red ones—I let my hand slide onto his knee. And that time, I didn’t pull it away.
I looked up at him from under my eyelashes.
I waited for him to move.
I waited for him to lift my hand away.
I waited for him to do something or say something—anything—but he was still just looking at me wearing that expression I couldn’t read.
And then his mouth turned up at the corners. It was slight, but I caught it.
I slid off my stool and he parted his legs, like he wanted me to step in between them. And so I did.
I moved closer, letting my hand trail across his thigh and over his hip. I heard him suck in a breath. And then I felt his hand on the small of my back. He was tentative at first, but then his fingers tightened and he urged me closer.
I thought about Alyssa and how she’d hate me forever if she knew what was happening. But I didn’t stop. And then I thought about Beth, and how horrible I was to let this happen. But I still didn’t stop. Because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t remember a single time in my life I’d done something so totally wrong, something so completely selfish, just because I wanted to. It felt…freeing.
And I knew deep down, he’d stop it from happening. I moved slowly, expecting him to push me away any second. But he didn’t. And then his mouth was right there, not even an inch in front of mine. I still couldn’t bring myself to kiss him. I thought about Alyssa, and Beth, and the fact that he was my choir director, and that I should have hated him for taking my college fund. And God, I couldn’t even bear to think of what my dad would say if he knew what was happening right now, right here, in his church, of all places.
And then I felt Aaron’s hands on my waist, on my skin, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. He shouldn’t have done that, but he did. And I shouldn’t have leaned in closer and kissed him, but I did.
At first, his lips were a hard line beneath mine, and I started to pull away, but then they softened. The kiss was tender and sweet. Then he parted his lips and so did I, and it became something else entirely.
His fingers were under my blouse, trailing the curve of my waist, and he was touching me as if he’d imagined doing all this before. Which I found funny, since I hadn’t pictured any of this happening. It might have been the first purely spontaneous thing I’d ever done in my life.
I stepped in closer and opened my mouth a little wider, ignoring my beating heart and my trembling legs as I kissed him even harder. But then I felt his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I took two steps back and brought my fingers to my lips, already missing him there.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, breathing fast. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Hannah. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”
My heart sank deep in my chest. I wanted it to happen again. I wished it were still happening. But all I could say was “It’s okay. Really.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t understand.”
I didn’t look away. “What don’t I understand?”
“I can’t. Not here. Not with you.”
Everything in my life felt like it was off track. Everything I was so certain was true sudden
ly wasn’t anymore. But those hours with Aaron—shooting video in the quad, editing it in the sound booth, texting late into the night about things that clearly violated the unspoken teacher/student agreement—had all been fun, and they all felt right. Being with him made me feel good in every way, about everything. I couldn’t recall the moment I wanted to kiss him, but now I couldn’t imagine not wanting to.
“Please kiss me again.” I was surprised I’d said it but relieved I had.
Neither one of us moved for what felt like a full minute. And then he slowly brushed his fingertip down my back. It gave me shivers everywhere. He leaned in closer.
“Hannah?” There was a hard knock on the sound booth door. I heard my dad’s voice on the other side. “Are you in there?”
Aaron dropped his hand, and I jumped back. He swiveled on the stool, facing the computer and reaching for the mouse, as if he’d been working all along.
“In here.” My voice was shaky and my hands were visibly trembling as I walked to the door. There was no way I was going to be able to pull this off. I could feel my heart pounding as I turned the knob.
“Hi.” I smiled.
Dad looked at me sideways. “What are you doing up here?”
I gestured toward the computers. “Aaron was showing me all the responses to our video.”
Even as the words came out, they sounded ridiculous. There was no way he’d believe that. My face must have been totally flushed, and Aaron kept glancing over his shoulder at us, looking guilty.
“You walked out of chapel. I wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“I didn’t…I was…” I stammered, trying to find words that made sense.
“It’s okay,” Dad said, cutting me off. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I know the whole thing was traumatic for you. I shouldn’t have told everyone. I should have let you take the lead and talk about it when you’re ready.”
He hugged me. As he did, I looked at Aaron, wondering if we were thinking the same thing.
Dad wouldn’t have been proud of either of us if he’d known what we’d just done…if he’d known what we were about to do again if we hadn’t been interrupted.
What was I going to say to Alyssa? What was Aaron going to say to Beth?
“I won’t talk about it anymore, okay? Not unless you want to.” Dad stepped back and kissed my forehead.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I kept it to single syllables so he couldn’t hear my voice shaking.
“Go,” he said, pointing to the door. “You’re late. Get to class.”
As I walked toward the door, I raised my hand in Aaron’s direction. “See you,” I said.
“See you,” he said.
After Tuesday-night rehearsal, Tyler dropped me off at Luke’s house. I climbed out of the car, walked to the top of the steps, and opened the front door. “Hi!” I called as I dropped my backpack on the floor next to a pile of shoes.
I couldn’t wait to see Luke in his own room, in his own bed, and out of that horrible hospital gown and back in those old, falling-apart Denver sweats he loved so much.
“Emory?” Mrs. Calletti walked in from the kitchen, rubbing her hands on her SHIITAKE HAPPENS apron and looking surprised to see me.
I inched backward, feeling like I’d shown up to a party on the wrong night.
“Oh…Hi. Luke said you had a big rehearsal after school and that you weren’t going to be able to join us tonight.”
I’d mentioned having a late rehearsal, and Luke said they weren’t having much of a family dinner anyway since he was under strict instructions to stay in bed for the next two days. But he never told me not to come, and I never said I wouldn’t be there. I hadn’t missed a Calletti Spaghetti since Luke and I first started dating.
“But it’s Tuesday.”
She smiled at that. “Well, I’m really glad you’re here.”
I thought she was going to go back to the kitchen, but she stepped in closer. “We got home this morning. I thought being in his own bed would cheer him up, but he’s still in a bit of a funk. He’s barely eating. He’s been watching movies on his laptop all day. I keep trying to talk to him, but he tells me to leave him alone and let him sleep. And that’s a lie, because I know he’s not sleeping; I don’t think he’s slept much at all since the accident.”
It wasn’t really an accident, but I couldn’t think of anything better to call it either.
“He’ll be happy to see you. Go on up. Dinner will be ready in twenty.”
She headed back to the kitchen while I started up the stairs.
I usually raced past the family photographs that lined the walls, but that night, I took each step a little more slowly, studying the pictures as I went, lingering a little longer at the ones of Luke in jerseys going back to when he was a little kid. Same full lips and dark curls on a much smaller body, smiling and gripping a lacrosse stick.
I knocked on his door. No one answered, so I cracked it open. “You decent?” I whispered. No response.
When I stepped inside, I saw him. He was sitting on his bed with his back propped against the pillows, watching something on his laptop. His hair still looked matted, just like it had in the hospital all week. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles underneath were even more pronounced.
When he saw me, he tugged on the earbuds cord and slammed his laptop closed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He sat up straighter and winced, as if he’d briefly forgotten that it hurt to do that.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Good to see you, too,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m glad to see you, I just…I mean…I thought you’d skip it tonight.” He looked down at his comforter and then back up at me again. “If I knew you were coming, I would have cleaned up a bit. I just got home. I still smell like hospital.” His mom told me they got home that morning, but I didn’t call him on it.
I sat down on the edge of his bed with one leg tucked under the other. “I don’t care.” I came in close and kissed him. “It’s just me.”
“You’re not just you.” He reached for a chunk of my hair and twisted it around his finger.
“I brought you some things to cheer you up.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out a plastic bag.
“Cheap tabloid journalism,” I said as I dropped two magazines on his comforter. “So you can catch up on the latest celebrity affairs and whatnot.” I reached in again. “Sudoku. That was my mom’s idea. I have no idea how you do it, but she says it’s easy to figure out and it will keep your mind occupied.” I reached in one more time and pulled out a few paperbacks, dropping them next to his hip. “These are a few of my favorites. This one was a really good mystery, and this one,” I said, picking up another, “I read in, like, a day. I couldn’t put it down.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I held my finger to his lips and raised one eyebrow. “No. Wait. There’s more.” I tipped the bag upside down and let the Mentos cascade out and land with a soft thud next to him.
He started laughing. “How many rolls did you buy?”
“Thirty-four. For your jersey number.” It seemed like a good girlfriend-y thing to do, and I thought he’d appreciate it, but his face fell and I suddenly realized what I’d done. He wouldn’t be wearing his jersey for a while. He was probably out for the season. He might not be number thirty-four ever again.
But he let it go. “I love it,” he said. He sat up to kiss me but then stopped short, clutching his side. “You’re going to have to come here. It still hurts to sit up. And move. And breathe. And pretty much do anything. They say I’ll feel better when the staples come out tomorrow.”
I moved in closer and kissed him. And when I pulled away, I pointed down at his laptop. “What were you watching when I came in?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“So, porn?” I raised an eyebrow.
He started to laugh, but then grabbed his side and winced again. “No,” he groaned. “I’m not watching porn. Believe it or not, even
with you sitting this close to me, that is the furthest thing from my mind.”
I gasped dramatically, as if I was offended. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”
He bowed his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I’m doing.”
“Come on. Show me.”
He hesitated, but then he said, “Fine,” and carefully scooted over to make room for me. I settled in next to him, sharing the same pillow, and rested my head on his shoulder. He opened his laptop and angled it so we could both see the screen.
There was a picture of a guy in a red-and-white jersey clutching a football. The headline read “Quarterback Dies From Lacerated Spleen.” I scrolled down, skimming the story. And then I realized there were dozens of tabs opened in the browser. Careful not to hurt him, I leaned over and began clicking on each one, reading headlines like “High School Lacrosse Player Dies After Collapsing on Field” and “Football Player Dies Hours After Injury on Field.”
I’d read enough. I leaned over and shut his laptop. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I want to, but I can’t. That whole night, and then after…” He trailed off.
“How is reading about a bunch of athletes who died going to help?” I asked, tapping on his laptop. “Seriously, dude, porn would have been better.” I laughed at my own joke, but he didn’t even crack a smile.
I remembered what Tyler said the day before. “Stop thinking about what happened. It’s over. You’re safe and healthy and here where you belong. Besides, you can’t leave. We have a deal. We shook on it.”
“We did?”
“I’m stuck with you until August twentieth.” I leaned in closer and kissed him. “We have to go to prom and get our diplomas and you have to take me camping, god help me.”
He smiled at me, but it didn’t look genuine.
“I’m not belittling what happened to you in any way, but you walked away with eighteen staples in your chest and internal stitches in your spleen. Your family is still here. I’m still here. Your friends are here. You’re out for the season, but you’ll heal, and you’ll play lacrosse again, and this will all be a distant memory. It could have been worse, but it wasn’t, right?”
Little Do We Know Page 13
