Fade to White

by Tara K Ross

  Ashley pinches my arm. “Thea, I don’t think your back is going to enjoy the performances as much as your front.”

  I inch my body around, pulling at the back of the blouse in hopes of raising the plummeting neckline. Ashley slaps my hand away from the material. “Nobody can see you in this light anyways.”

  Jade clears her throat. “Apparently nobody except Gavin.”

  I dart my eyes in the direction of Jade’s and then quickly away. She’s right. He is staring straight at me. “Is he still looking?”

  “Yep,” they say in unison, followed by laughter.

  “Stop. I don’t need any extra attention.” Before I’m aware I’ve reached up, I pinch a strand of hair and snap it out with trembling fingers. I shake it free and pour all my concentration into Nadia’s soothing voice. Most of her words are lost. She says something about supporting local talent or local charity, mental health or maternal health. But the comforting cadence of her words gets muffled by the internal pounding of blood in my ears. I attempt to take in oxygen the way Dr. K suggested. Breathe up your pinky finger and exhale down.

  “What are you doing, Thea?” Jade’s voice pulls me out of my spiral.

  “Trying to breathe,” I say and then begin my next roller-coaster inhale.

  She smirks. “You look like you are going into labor.”

  “Or getting ready for another strenuous activity.” Ashley assesses the cause for my hyperventilation while taking a sip. “And Gavin may be thinking the same thing.”

  At the sound of his name, I’m drawn in like an ant to a sugar cube. The shaded light perfectly etches his tensed jawline and slightly parted lips. Our eyes connect, and his slow-to-build smile makes me think Ashley should stop watching her mother’s soap operas. “Oh no. That is not what I am aiming to …” I sit on my hands.

  “She’s joking, Thea.” Jade reaches for my arm. “It’s too dark for him to have noticed anything other than your shirt.”

  “It’s not that dark,” I say between hitched breaths, still feeling the penetration of his gaze on me.

  “Chill out, lady. You have until the set ends to figure out his intentions,” Ashley says. “He’s not coming over unless he hurdles a couch and joins the first band’s set.”

  I take note of the obstacle course between us. It offers little comfort, but I’ll take all the time I can get.

  The first set is lost on me; my mind is bombarded by an impossible number of hypothetical conversations I may never have with Gavin. And then there is the torture of guessing who he is with, which doesn’t offer any less of a full-body flight threat. To keep myself from darting like a rabbit, I force anything else into my mind. What is Tom up to tonight? He would punch Gavin for gawking at me like that. Will Evan show up so I can give him this sketchbook back? Would Evan want a sketch of me looking like this? Maybe Gavin would. Dang it, Thea.

  On the best of days, I hate my brain. Tonight, I loathe it. What am I going to say if Gavin does come over? Based on my internal voice, I’m either going to scare him away or come off like a complete flirt. Or worse, a love-stricken, bend-to-your-every-whim Meg March.

  In my space-cadet state, I don’t even notice Jade has disappeared and Ethan has magically appeared in her place next to Ashley.

  “Where did Jade go?” I ask Ashley.

  “Nice to see you too, Thea,” Ethan responds before she has a chance.

  “Sorry, Ethan. Hi. Didn’t mean to ignore you. Thanks for taking pity on me. I mean, I’m just …”

  “She’s just a little distracted.” Ashley nudges him in the ribs.

  “Riiight. Nice shirt by the way.” He winks. “Looks familiar for some reason.” He wraps his arms around Ashley and kisses her neck.

  They embrace so comfortably, without thought or concern for angles or body odor. Those ridiculous details are what plague my mind. Like, what if she angles her head too far and thwacks him as he comes in for a kiss? Or what if she sprayed that fishnet-bottle scent right where he is kissing and the sheer intensity of its smell caused an anaphylactic reaction? Would she do mouth-to-mouth or would that make it worse? “So, where is Jade?”

  Ashley raises her head—without any thwacking—and nods in the direction of the counter. Jade leans toward Lennox, her arm gracefully wrapped around his waist.

  Great, now Jade has mastered the unwritten rules of male-female interactions also.

  My mouth drops open. “What is she doing?”

  “Looks like intel to me,” Ashley says.

  Despite my squinting efforts, I can’t make out any of the actions or words being exchanged.

  “Relax. She’s figuring out who the girl is for you.” Ethan waves a dismissive hand through the air.

  Am I the last teenage girl to receive the secret guidebook on how to act seductively around the opposite sex? Someone please teach me the handshake to gain membership.

  I glance back to Gavin and notice the fashion thief also has the guidebook. She makes the intel-finding mission irrelevant. Her fingers travel through Gavin’s cropped hair. She leans into his ear and whispers who knows what sweet nothings. New layers of cement pour over my body, heaving my head and shoulders inward. I need to leave, but my range of motion is decreasing. I should have left when I first saw them come in. Why am I still here? I never had a chance with Gavin.

  The next band begins a blur of depressive indie covers and poorly attempted harmonies. I zone out and sip my hot chocolate, planning my escape for when their set ends.

  A hand rests on my shoulder; I raise my arm to brush it away. Jade, no doubt, seeking to impart the intel she gleaned from Lennox that will theoretically encourage me. But it is not Jade’s hand. This hand is rougher, and when I try to brush it away, the responding yield and then capture sends a lightning shock through my body.

  If this is the secret handshake, I am in.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The spotlights in the café accentuate the architectural perfection of his face. His gaze lingers on me, with an imploring half smile that deepens the dimple on his left side. I beam back; a smile likely reminiscent of a tween before her first slow dance. His lips move and I nod in blind agreement. All I can comprehend is that his hand still grasps mine. Gavin Miura is holding my sweaty palm. He releases my hand, and his smile becomes more jovial as he rises from his kneeling position. A position I had not registered until now.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I mean, with the music and the … Can you say it again?” I fumble, desperate to know what he said on bent knee. Failing already, Thea.

  He slides onto the conveniently vacant stool next to me and leans in. A rich musk cologne, classier than his usual scent, overwhelms whatever remnants of calm I have left. I grab hold of my stool with iron strength to hide the rising tremors in my fingers.

  His radio-worthy voice trounces the final measures of the band’s song. “I had a great line from the play, but I don’t think it will sound as good the second time.”

  A nervous laugh escapes through my clenched teeth, and I stare at the band, blank on how I should respond. “I can pretend it’s the first time,” I say just after the last note is strummed. The burly guy to my right shoots me a look, suggesting an alternative interpretation. I cup my fingertips around my eyes. Fail number two.

  The weight of Gavin’s arm presses across my shoulders, and his warm breath tingles my ear. “I’ll meet you halfway, Juliet. I was describing how …” he pauses and, unlike myself, waits for the applause to kick in, “… ridiculously hot you look tonight.”

  I lower my blinders, but keep my head forward, hoping the obvious heat in my face doesn’t mean it’s as red as I imagine. “Hot, eh? Is that a good thing?”

  He lowers his voice with the ending of the applause. “Let’s just say your new look goes well with that perfume you had on during practice.”

  I laugh and whisper more to myself than to him, “Scandalous indeed.”

  I tug at my shirt from the back. He’d have to be asexual not to be staring a
t my chest in this blouse.

  The band clears its instruments for the next act, ruining my excuse to face forward. Having only a single stool on stage to appear fascinated by, I inch my legs in Gavin’s direction and desperately search for something chill to say. “So, I noticed you came with a girl.”

  Fail number three. So not chill. Why bring up the girl?

  As though watching my life spiral backward in slow motion, Gavin lifts his arm from my shoulder and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”

  He is wishing he never came over here. And now he is going to tell the girl that I was asking about her. And then she is going to start sending me cyber threats to stay away from her man. Or worse, she’s going to show up at our drama practice next week and claim her rightful position as Juliet.

  Get out of your head, Thea.

  “I mean, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry. She’s not someone I recognize, and I—”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s hard not to notice Fleur.” He stares back at his spot, where Fleur’s perfection is only disturbed by the icicles flying from her eyes, straight into my stomach. Who names their kid flower anyways? Did they know from her blobby newborn status she’d turn out gorgeous? She could be a runway model in Paris. Or worse, she probably has fashion-designer parents who supply her with an endless plethora of haute couture clothes and accessories and the funds to finance weekly spa treatments.

  “Yeah, she’s kind of been all over you …” I stop. Becoming the jealous girl without cause is not going to help my situation. “I mean, are you guys like a thing?”

  “Not really. She comes home for the weekends from Riveroak Collegiate. We met at the skate park a few weeks back. She’s been an unofficial groupie since then.”

  “Groupie?” I blink and swallow hard. Great. Not only is she gorgeous and rich, but she is also coordinated enough to skateboard–—something I will never attempt, even for Gavin. And yet, I can’t tell if I’m jealous or sad for this private-school princess. Fleur still watches from across the café, but the icicles are melting. Her manicured fingers twist a diamond necklace flashy enough to see from across the room. A piercing ache fills my throat. “So, you and Lennox take turns with her?”

  “Well, no, I’m trying to pass her off to Lennox, because,” he leans into my ear again, “I may be considering someone different.”

  A shiver radiates from the point where he touches me up to the base of my neck. Was that supposed to be a compliment? This is exactly the attention I should be hoping for, right? And yet, a squeaky little voice in my head is shouting Abort! Abort!

  I catch sight of Ashley and Jade at the other end of the counter. They could have a wire on our conversation the way they nod as if to say, “Hooray, you finally got a copy of the guidebook. Now use it.”

  My brain hurts too much to use it, ladies.

  “You know, we could go for a walk over to the school. There’s a back door off the gymnasium that is never locked.”

  He says it with such innocence I almost forget the infamous nature of this door. Everyone at school is super-hush about the warped custodial exit. Last May, a student driver crashed into it, and it has yet to be fixed. Passing through its fire-safe metal has become a rite of passage. A rite that is growing amongst the more promiscuous of Ridgefield’s student population. I only know the details of this new tradition through Ashley’s own induction on the last day of school. She made a point of taking Jade and me to see Ethan’s handiwork—their initials engraved within the painted steel. And their graffiti is not alone.

  The track is located just up the hill from the back door. So, I have the joy of walking past this homage to innocence lost countless times a week after cross-country practices. Do I want to add my name to the wall of fame? Is that even what it is? Wall of shame could fit equally well when I think of how many repeated initials in different combinations I’ve seen there. And, yes, G.M. is amongst the repeats, but after surveying the index of our students in last year’s yearbook, I somewhat convinced myself that Gavin is not one of the three G.M.s in our school branded on the door. His hand settles on my knee and slides inward. And now I’m unconvincing myself.

  Every follicle on my body stands at attention. Do they rise in excitement or warning? “I, um … I’m getting picked up by quarter to eleven.” I reach back into my purse for my phone and twist so he is forced to shift his hand back. Never did I imagine things would move so fast. But if I turn him down now, I might close the back door on any future with him.

  I attempt to ignore the weight of his hand on my thigh as I swipe my phone on. There is another missed call from Khi and now a voice message.

  “Just let me check this.” I begin dialing my voicemail. Before I complete my password, the next performer strums a single chord, and a hauntingly familiar voice steals my attention. I look up and am immersed in blinding light. My phone drops. “I … I’m sorry, Gavin. I forgot that I have something …”

  The weight lifts from my thigh, and my shoulders and my head. Gavin places my phone back in my hand. He is likely waiting for me to finish my thought. To accept his offer. But I have nothing else to say. I squint into the brightness, my vision refusing to adjust. I’m back in a blur of white. But this time, there is no fear of dying. No suffocation. No isolation. A silhouette comes into focus. A face. Eyes. And an unexplainable peace.

  “I’m going to stay.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gavin left. I don’t know when or with whom. But I don’t care. I may tomorrow, but right now, I cannot think beyond this moment. The melodic guitar chords and lyrics envelop me like a hot shower, the shivering now replaced with a warmth that requires no questioning. I listen.

  See you staring up at those lights . . .

  A new hand appears on my shoulder, this one light and familiar–—Jade.

  “Are you okay?” She reclaims the vacant stool.

  I touch my lips with my fingertip and shut out the visual world. All I want is to take in his voice. The even rhythm of his foot tapping becomes my new heartbeat.

  Wonderin’ what could make things right.

  Murmurs remain between Jade and Ashley, each phrase like a shiny lure I could swallow. But I know the hook will yank me from this surreal state. And that is what it is. An unearned, perfectly needed moment of peace. The wrenching fear that came the first morning when my world disappeared, when I thought I was having a massive panic attack, is all but gone. It has slowly faded with each blurring experience, but now it is completely different. There was still a brief moment of shock as if jumping into a spring lake. Refreshing. But the afterglow is so much better. This new clarity, the sound so serene, the remaining light now bathing him as though he floats on pure sunlight.

  You search your soul with each star you see.

  A familiar tension grows between my brows. I purse my lips. Don’t cry, Thea. They both know the signs. And if you start, you won’t be able to stop.

  Jade’s fingertips draw circles on my back. Ashley mutters, “Here she goes.”

  Shudders travel through my shoulders with the emotional energy I fight to keep inside. Why do I care so much? So what if I’ve cracked? This time it is of my own choosing. The fissures are allowing light into a part of me I rarely even acknowledge. But if I cry, and I so could, every head in the room will judge those tears as failure. Humiliation. Rejection. Only I would know differently. For me, it would be a glorious release.

  Then release, Thea.

  And, so I do. I unravel from my furrow like a seed breaking through the soil for its first exposure to the sun. The glisten of tears fills the entire room with starbursts. Through the rays, I piece together the image and voice of Khi. His infectious smile overwhelms any previous hesitations. His radiant green eyes find mine.

  But don’t you know what’s already there. It’s in the air. It’s in the air.

  Ashley takes her turn at my side, her familiar scent overpowering my tentative application of the same perfume. “He’s gone, if that help
s. Left with that—”

  “It’s okay.” I raise my hand to halt her efforts. I don’t want to miss any of the words, the melody, the moment. I soak in Khi’s every movement. His face tells a story of adoration and joy through the creases bordering his closed eyelids, the ever-present upward turn of his lips. He knows something. Something I’m searching for. The compassion. The lights. This must be why Nadia called him a luminary. His words. They are part of an answer.

  Why didn’t he tell me he was performing? Wait. Did I ever give him a chance to share this or anything else about himself? This is a gift, a well-crafted passion, that any considerate person would have uncovered within a five-minute conversation. But not me.

  I’m not the only one captivated by his offering. There is an energy in the room, the kind normally reserved for the encore of a stadium concert. Even Jade’s and Ashley’s attention has moved from me to Khi’s performance. One song seamlessly fuses into the next; the entire café is entranced, not wanting to disturb the electric atmosphere.

  For the first time since he began, Khi pauses long enough to allow recognition. He hushes the crowd with a raised hand. The desire of each person to decipher his unusual accent outweighs their desire to applaud his performance. “Thank you. I want to end my set with a song I heard a while back by a musician from around this area. His name is Andrew Belle. Some of his music is about trusting in what you can’t always see and choosing paths that are sometimes scary at first.”

  A murmur of laughter travels through the crowd. He smiles, folding and unfolding his sleeve, waiting for the room to quiet again.

  “He also sings about hope. And sometimes, we forget about hope when we are in our darkest places.” His piercing green eyes travel across the room and pause on me. Only for a moment. Not long enough for anyone else to notice.