Since We Last Spoke

by Brenda Rufener

  Umé mumbles, “Uh-oh,” and I jerk my neck toward the dock. “Nope. Wrong way.” She motions toward the house with her thumb. “Look over there, or maybe you shouldn’t.”

  I shift to the side of my chair as Max strolls down the path with one hand stuffed in his front pocket, the other bopping the top of each torch stand, quenching fires, then making the flame burn bigger and brighter, like a goddamn magician. He’s layered from head to toe. Belted dark pants tapering just above his boots. A dark blue plaid flannel shirt peeking from the bottom of his sweater. His coat sleeves tied around his waist. A black knit hat. Fingerless gloves. Sideswept bangs. Oh my God. Max is here.

  When he reaches the clearing at the lake, Henry shoots me a mixed look of holy shit and this could be fun. I shake my head at Henry and scowl. He shrugs as if to say sorry, then drops his head and smirks at his feet.

  Umé leans forward, elbows on knees, and whispers, “Should we go?”

  I yank the hat from my head, and my hair spills onto my shoulders. “No way,” I say loud enough for Max to hear. “We were here first. He’s the one who should go.”

  13

  Max

  GO? I JUST GOT HERE.

  And where would I go, anyway? Back home to circle the driveway like I was doing when Henry texted me? His message, urgent: She Who Must Not Be Named is at Connor’s. Where the hell are YOU?

  It took me over an hour to finally text Henry back that I was on my way—right after I finished circling my driveway, making a decision that could potentially kill me or change my life.

  When I finally committed to return to Connor’s, another twenty minutes was necessary for me to get ready. I raced inside the house and slipped into a button-up and the sweater Aggi bought me for my birthday—the one she said I looked sexy in—then shot my clothes with cologne. Pawtrick Swayze sneezed, confirmation that a second spray was not needed. I mean, I am not Connor.

  I expected Aggi to be at Connor’s when I arrived, just not sitting in that wooden chair looking like she’d been brushed by an artist. Her soft lines blending into the backdrop of the lake. Light from the torches meeting the moon’s glisten. Aggi, right there in front of me and I’m not hiding. I’m standing and staring and out in the open. I’m also breaking a restraining order, adding red ink to legal paperwork, but I’m frozen. In fear. In love. A mixture of both.

  The sky’s almost black except for the dot-to-dot of stars popping in and out of passing clouds. I wish I played the guitar like Cal did at lake-kid parties. When I was young, he was always strumming on the porch in the evenings, Aggi and I calling out songs by obscure bands, never able to trip him up. He knew every song ever made. Old-school Elvis. Eighties R.E.M. Nineties grunge. And a lot of Twenty One Pilots. I wish I had asked Cal to teach me how to play something swoon-worthy, if for no other reason than to busy my fingers when I showed up to a party empty-handed. I could be sitting in that chair beside Aggi, plucking strings, but I’ll probably never be that close to her again.

  “Hey, Max!” Troy yells, and I wave.

  Another guy from school jogs up and holds out his hand. We pound fists, and he begins to make small talk. I have no idea what he’s saying. My focus is Aggi. Her sudden arm movements, mannerisms, ease. She’s talking to Umé, and I wonder if she’s uncomfortable that I’m here. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable.

  I consider walking back to the house, but Aggi stands and my eyes are drawn to her face. Her arms motion toward the dock. Is that Grace? She’s too close to the water to not be wearing a life vest. I glance around the crowd, back at Aggi. Is anyone even watching that little girl?

  “Maxwell, hi, hello.” Umé’s voice causes me to jump. I straighten my spine and glance over again at Aggi. Her head shifting back and forth between Umé and the dock.

  “Umé, my friend. What’s up?”

  “Hello, Maxwell. Need you to be quiet and listen.”

  I nod.

  “Henry set this up. Didn’t he?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Umé steps forward, and I step back.

  “What do you propose we do now?”

  My head shakes. “Are you and Aggi going to leave?”

  “Why would we leave?” Umé drags the heel of her boot across the ground.

  “Just so you know, I technically was here first but had to run home for reasons I can’t divulge.”

  Umé rolls her eyes. “We heard all about what you forgot at home. Your balls. Am I right?”

  I fake laugh, extra deep.

  “Look. You know the routine. Aggi’s not ready to talk.”

  My stomach flips. “You mean she wants to? Just not yet?”

  Umé parks her hands on her hips and twists around toward Aggi. “I can’t answer that. Not right now.”

  “So there’s an answer?”

  Umé turns to walk away, and I reach for her shoulder.

  She whips around and sighs. “I’m as sure of what to do as you are, but just don’t do something you’ll regret, okay? Maybe stop following her around.”

  “But we’re on private property and we’ve both been invited here. There’s no law preventing us from being here together!” My voice crescendoes in the quiet woods and grabs Henry’s attention as he’s warming his hands over the fire pit.

  “All good, Maxwell?” he shouts.

  I swat Henry’s question away and picture myself stepping up to a podium, tapping the microphone, and hushing the crowd. Umé’s right. I need to stop following Aggi. I shouldn’t have to keep my distance. I should be able to walk beside her, not pretend to jog laps at the college or dive behind trees. Now is the time to stop hiding how I feel. And if Aggi turns away, shouts that she sees me as her father does—blameworthy like my dad—I will leave her alone. But I must hear it from her.

  14

  Aggi

  MAX LOOKS UNBELIEVABLY HOT TONIGHT. Extra hot, hot-sauce hot. But he’s pacing, pointing his finger in the air, and slinging words like “private property,” “law,” and “us being here.” I scoot to the edge of the wooden chair. I should go. Clearly he’s angry we’re here, but if I shout Umé’s name, Max will look in my direction.

  I slide out of the chair and around the back side for a clearer yet more casual view of Umé and Max. Henry’s standing, too, rubbing the back of his neck and turning in circles beside the fire pit. He’s unsure what to do. He glances my way and waves. Henry must have have known about the possibility of Max and me showing up at the same party, and I can’t help but wonder how much of this was planned.

  Max lifts his finger like he’s declaring war, peace, independence. He glances in my direction, and I stare at the back of a chair. He turns toward Umé, and I step toward them, realizing nothing prevents me from walking up to my friend and asking if she wants to stroll out on the dock. I could move closer to Max. My dad is at home. It’s not as though he’s lurking in the trees ready to pounce as I move toward Max. Nobody holds me in place. Nothing is stopping me.

  At the hospital, in the moments after Cal died, Max and I were connected. Our hands webbed and our arms intertwined. I remember my tight grip around Max’s fingers, as if my hand knew loosening would mean letting go of him forever. Paperwork that ordered us to keep our distance had not surfaced. Lawsuits did not exist. There were no lines Max and I couldn’t cross.

  For those short and tender minutes, my parents wanted to be with Max’s family. My mother held Max’s mother, and she melted against my mom’s chest. My dad and Mr. Granger shook as they cried in each other’s arms. Love held us together as one large family. No one spoke, not even Max and me. He sat, staring at the wall, and I stared along with him.

  But after the doctor released Kate to go home, guilt moved in with us. It whispered at Kate’s ear when she turned out her bedroom lights. Kate blamed herself for Cal’s death. She suffered and could not let go of the guilt she felt for losing control of the vehicle as it spun on ice. Dad told Kate it was not her fault.
Mom said blame belonged to nobody. But Kate stared at my parents, her big glassy eyes searching for an answer that would pull her out of the muddy waters swimming with guilt. Convinced my parents could not see Kate’s struggle, I dived headfirst into the swamp.

  Kate sat on the strip of hardwood between her bed and her fuzzy blue rug, tucked in a tight ball, her head between her legs. She made a hiccup sound.

  I dropped to my knees and rubbed her back. When we were little, Kate would draw on my back with her fingertip and I’d try to guess the letter. As I sat beside her, trying to explain what happens to moisture in the air before it tumbles to the ground and turns to ice, I spelled I love you over and over and over . . .

  I used scientific terms, hoping to convince Kate that the weather was to blame, not her. I tried to sound like an expert. Black ice is colorless. Transparent. Invisible. Loss of traction is sudden, especially on mountain bridges. She tilted her head, and her eyes blinked. For a second, I believed I’d gotten through the guilt that held her down. But guilt is relentless, and I was weak and unprepared for the fight.

  “I’ll go where I want to go.” Max.

  “You’re already doing that.” Umé.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Max again.

  “You follow her to work? You sit on your porch and stare at her house? If you care so much about her, why are you seeing other girls?”

  I gasp and whip around toward Umé and Max. My sudden movement draws Max’s eyes, flickering beside the growing bonfire. I step toward him.

  Max stares at me while he answers. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “Not according to—”

  “Hey!” a guy shouts from across the lakeshore. “Somebody help that kid!”

  I jump toward the empty dock.

  “Grace?” I shout as Umé races toward me.

  “Where’s Grace? Oh my God! Where’s Grace?”

  “Grace!” I scream, and sprint for the dock.

  Footsteps pound behind me as I cut across the path, jumping logs and clumps of Kentucky bluegrass. Someone shouts, “Connor, get your flashlight!”

  I’m a terrible sister. I should have been on the dock with Grace. She was there a minute ago. How many minutes ago? I can’t remember the last time I checked.

  Someone rushes in front of me with a torch in hand, yelling, “Grace! Gracie! Where are you, baby girl?”

  Max.

  I charge after him, shouting, “She was here a minute ago. Grace!”

  The dock fills with people from the party swinging torches over the water. Max, flat on his belly, shines the torch onto the lake, and slides across the wood. Seconds feel like minutes, until someone shouts, “Right there!” and Max drops his torch into the lake, tears his boots from his feet, and dives into the black water.

  “Grace!” I drop to my knees as Max springs from the lake, water spraying from his nose and mouth.

  Connor and two other guys race from the lakeshore and toss a tube at Max. “Here!” Connor shouts, but Max doesn’t hear him. He disappears beneath the water.

  I step to the edge of the dock and scream, “Shut up!” Voices hush, bubbles surface, as I scan the surface of the water. “Right there!” I point to the other side of the dock. Max’s head bobs above the surface. “Grace!” His voice is tight from the cold water. He lunges for the tube, tucking it beneath his armpit.

  “Over here!” I stumble over one of Max’s boots and kick it into the water. “She’s right there, Max! She’s right there!”

  “Shine the torches!” he yells, but his voice sounds weak.

  “Shine the fucking torches!” I repeat, then yank a torch from Umé’s hand and hover it over the water where Grace’s coat surfaces.

  Max goes under, his feet splashing cold water onto my legs. A couple of seconds and he’s back at the surface. “She’s here! I have her!”

  I plug my nose and leap feetfirst toward Max.

  15

  Max

  SOMETHING CUTS ACROSS MY ARMS and breaks my grip from Grace’s body. She’s floating, facedown, her hair swimming like tentacles about her head. I flail, suck lake water into my lungs, and choke as Aggi scrambles toward her sister, gasping from the cold.

  Aggi struggles, her body shocked by the cold water. I dive under and yank Grace by the waist as Aggi pulls her legs. We’re battling against each other, but my mouth shivers too hard to offer direction, so I scoop Grace’s head above water and she coughs as she draws a deep breath.

  Aggi flaps her arm but doesn’t go anywhere. I pull her away from Grace’s body, fold Grace over my back, and push toward the dock. Aggi kicks my thigh as she reaches for Grace.

  Henry and Troy swim up beside us with tubes. Henry scoops Grace up and swims for the dock.

  When he reaches the wood, he moves Grace onto the dock with help from everyone’s reaching arms.

  “Where is she? Where’s my sister?”Aggi twirls in the lake, slapping her tube and pushing it toward me.

  “Hop on,” I say, moving the tube in front of Aggi. “She’s on the dock. She’s fine.”

  I reach for the tube, holding it steady while Aggi drapes her arms across it and kicks her feet. Steering is impossible.

  When we float against the dock, Henry and Troy reach for Aggi, but as she climbs onto her knees, she slips and falls through the tube’s doughnut hole. I duck under the water and grab Aggi’s waist.

  “Let go of me!” she shouts, but I’m scared she’ll slip away again, sink into the blackness of the lake.

  “Let her go, Max,” Troy says. “We got her.”

  Henry and Troy extend their arms toward Aggi’s bobbing body.

  Aggi swats at Henry’s arm and grabs hold of the dock. She tries to pull herself up, but the cold-water cramps set in, and as she reaches for Henry, her wet hand slips from his grip. Henry falls on his ass.

  “Give her a little push.” Troy grabs Aggi’s hand.

  Aggi looks over; her teeth chatter, and her head nods. I scramble into action as though today I learned how to swim. First I fumble at Aggi’s waist, unsure where to put my hands. They splash around like a child until I reclaim my balls, though it’s forty degrees and I’m in the middle of a lake. My muscles ache and I’m losing sensation in my legs, so I cup her ass with both hands and push with every working muscle fiber, and practically shoot Aggi over the dock.

  16

  Aggi

  MAX SMASHES MY BOOBS INTO the dock.

  “Ouch!”

  “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

  Troy and Henry grab my wrists and drag me across the wood.

  Umé wraps me in towels, but I scramble to my feet and crawl toward Grace’s blanket-wrapped body.

  “Are you okay?” I push Grace’s wet hair to one side. Her lips tremble, teeth chatter.

  “You two nearly ripped me in half,” she snaps.

  I glance back at Max, who’s groaning as Henry, Troy, and another guy pull him from the water.

  “You okay?” Troy and Henry ask in unison.

  Max coughs, rubs his face with both hands, and fluffs his hair. “I’m fine. Just make sure they are.”

  I clutch Grace in my arms, holding her close, as Max wrings water out of his sweater. The sweater I bought for him.

  Troy hands Max a boot. “Sorry, man. Only found the one.”

  I gulp, remembering the boot I kicked into lake by accident.

  Lifting Grace to her feet and squeezing her shoulder into my armpit, I snatch a blanket from Umé’s hands and toss it to Max. It whacks him in the face and drops to his feet.

  Max bends down, picks it up, and cloaks it over his shoulders like a cape. A tight smile squeezes, and I’m not sure if I smile back. Instead, I glance at the sky and the shooting star passing over Max’s head. My mind blanks. A thousand wishes bombard my brain, but none coherent. There’s only chaos.

  Grace in the water. Mom’s and Dad’s tears. Screaming. Shouting. The thump of Kate’s body hitting the floor. Max diving into water. The click of Cal’s life supp
ort. Doctors and nurses and funeral directors. Then everything goes black. Complete darkness.

  Max stares at me, and I refuse to look away. Five thousand reasons why I should dive into Max, grab him in my arms, kiss him, thank him for finding Grace. Five thousand and one reasons why I shouldn’t.

  Do it. Don’t do it.

  Kiss him. Ignore him.

  Say something. Don’t speak.

  Dad and his blame. Will I ever be free?

  “Let’s get these girls to the hot tub,” Connor shouts. “They need to be warmed up.”

  I lean into Grace. “Let’s get you home.”

  Grace shakes her head. “You promised we could go hot-tubbing.” She turns toward Umé and takes her hand. I shrug at Umé, unsure what to do as Grace yanks at my friend’s arm as though nothing happened.

  I slowly pass Max heading for the trail, and at the end of the dock, I turn. Max’s head tilts, his eyes wide and welcoming. Voices echo as everyone follows the trail back to the house.

  “You should probably get warmed up, too,” I say.

  Max shivers, uncertain how to—or if he should—respond.

  I turn away from Max as my dad’s voice grumbles. You should have been watching out for your sister. What the hell were you thinking? What the hell were you doing with that boy? He’s a distraction. If you hadn’t been with him the night of the wreck . . .

  I sprint down the trail, calling after Grace.

  At the house, Umé hands me my bag with our swimsuits and towels. She escorts Grace and me into the pool house, where everyone’s changing in front of each other. I cover Grace’s eyes with the blanket, and Umé shouts at the crowd, “Since when did we join a commune?”

  Umé pounds on the bathroom door, and we wait our turn.

  “You okay, Gracie?” Umé asks, rubbing her shoulders.

  Grace grunts.

  “And you?” Umé asks.

  I nod. “I’m okay.”