Flashed

by Zoey Castile

  “Your mom.” Ari turns her face to the side and pouts a little. “I wish you two would get along.”

  I’ve tried to get along with her since I was eleven and it never took. “We do.”

  Ari can never know that the reason I’m working for Patrick is because her mother stole my identity. That I could have sent her to jail but I’d never do that to the memory of my dad or the future of my little sister.

  I swallow the anger that boils to the surface of my skin and keep going down the aisle.

  “Don’t look now,” Ari says, eyes wide, “but there’s a guy checking you out.”

  I wait to turn the corner and casually tuck my hair behind my ear. There is in fact, a guy who looks vaguely familiar. He was also just in the lampshade aisle. It could be that we’re both browsing the same things. He seems incredibly interested in a white fuzzy rug now that I look at him, though.

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” I ask him, loud enough that the old lady cruising by in her chair glares at me. “We go to school together, right?”

  “What are you doing?” Ari hisses into my earbuds, but I can tell she’s thrilled at my behavior.

  “When you call out a creeper, he has no choice but to scatter. Like when you turn on the lights and the vermin hide.”

  “He could just be into you. And we don’t have vermin,” she says, “but point taken. I’ll remember that.”

  “Me?” the guy asks, leaving the white throw rug back where he found it. “Yeah, I’m in the same art program. Just browsing.”

  “Okay. Have a nice day.” I exaggerate a smile and start to push my cart away. I need a rug, but I also need an end table.

  “You, uh, ready for the new semester?” he asks, stepping into my path.

  I shrug. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “You still living at the Donatello Ranch?”

  I shake my head. I should ask how he knows where I live, but I’ve come to expect that around here. “Back to campus housing. Sorry, what was your name again?”

  He scratches the back of his head and adjusts the bill of his hat. There’s something overconfident in his wide pink lips. “I’m Keillor. We had Surrealism and the Modern Artist together. And I’m one of your new roommates.”

  “Oh,” I say flatly. Why wouldn’t he just start with that? The only person I spoke to in that class was Mari because our professor spoke so fast, if you didn’t listen you got lost. “You could have led with that. I’m Lena.”

  For a moment, I forget Ari is on the phone until she snorts and says in my ear, “What kind of name is Keillor?”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, but busy my hands with the grip of my cart.

  He looks around with bright blue eyes. “So, the Donatellos, huh?”

  “What about them?” I ask, and I feel like a cat that’s just been spooked. The hair on the back of my neck stands.

  “Just what they say around town. I grew up here.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  I get a strange hot flash of protectiveness. Whatever gossip he wants to share with me about Patrick and his family, I don’t think I want to listen to.

  “Listen, Keillor, I don’t feel comfortable talking about my boss, so just drop it, okay?”

  He looks stricken, but nods. I forget about the rug and head for the antiques section, knowing well enough that he’s not going to follow me.

  “I thought he wasn’t your boss,” Ari says smartly.

  “Ariana.”

  “Fine. That was still weird. Come hooooooooome.”

  “I only have a year and a half left,” I say. “And I’ll be home for Christmas.”

  “You’d better.”

  “I will,” I say, and this time, I’m glad I can keep that promise.

  * * *

  “Looks like it’s just you and me,” Kayli says, taking off her doctor smock as she steps onto the patio.

  This is our third monthly food and wine night and the first time without Scarlett, who is busy revising her book. Kayli’s just finished with Patrick and it takes all of me not to ask how he is because she can’t tell me.

  “I hope you’re okay with pizza,” I say, holding the delivery box. “My head is all over the place lately. I forgot to thaw out the burgers when I left for town this morning.”

  “I have never said no to pizza,” she says with a wink of her blue eye.

  She picks out a wine since I know nothing about them except “red” and “white.” I build the fire easily now that I know where (and what) the kindling is.

  “What’s got you all over the place?” Kayli watches me with a new sort of intensity. I wonder if she’s trying to make some sort of diagnosis on my mental state. I don’t think she’d do that, but I have an aunt who swore she could tell you your illness by reading your palm. I know, that’s not possible.

  I take the glass of cold white wine she offers and sit in the Adirondack chair farthest from the fire. You would think we wouldn’t need a fire for the middle of August, but the nice summer weather seems to have come and gone.

  “I’ve been very conflicted about things.”

  “This about school?” Kayli asks, sipping slowly.

  “Kind of. I feel rusty. Like a bike left in the cold for too many winters.”

  “You’re not a bicycle.”

  “Motorcycle?” I offer.

  “Have you tried to paint at all this summer?”

  I shake my head. I wish I could tell her that it has nothing to do with school and everything to do with Patrick. My vagina is the rusty bike in the cold. But I’d started down this path of half-truths, so I continue. “I’ve done some sketches, but they all end up in the fire. Plus moving stress.”

  “I’m sure Pat’s going to miss having you around.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  Kayli gives me a secret smile. “I don’t know what’s in the food you’re feeding him but he’s smiling. That’s as much as I’ll say as his doctor.”

  I am thankful for the setting sun that casts a pink glow over both of us because it hides my hot blush. “Happy to help?”

  Kayli nods methodically. “You’re different, too, you know.”

  “How?”

  “When I first met you, you had this tension in your shoulders. It’s like you’re holding the weight of the world.”

  “No one can do that.”

  “Well, you have your family back in New York and your life here. School. Patrick’s house. Yourself. Each one of those things makes up your world. In that sense, you are holding that up. I just hope you’re taking care of yourself as well.”

  I want to tell her that I am. Every night for the last two weeks, Patrick and I get under the covers and whisper filthy things until we come and then fall asleep. We never talk about it during the day, and yet, if he doesn’t call me the minute the sun goes down, I call him. I turn to the horizon, the bleeding reds and oranges behind the outcrop of tall trees in the distance.

  That presents a problem today when Kayli usually stays until way past dinner.

  I’m not going to make her leave just so Pat and I can rub ourselves down. She’s one of the few friends I have here. Patrick will wait, even if my heart gives a little tug at the thought of him. I can’t keep this feeling pent up and I finally break. A little.

  “Kayli, have you ever had a long-distance relationship?”

  She smiles, folding a slice in her hand to get ready to eat it. “Once. It didn’t work out. It never really does.”

  That’s what I keep hearing. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “You rekindled something back home?” she asks.

  The first time we met I told her that there was no one. And that was true. I give her a noncommittal nod. Half lies and half-truths have become my specialty. “I haven’t seen him in, well, forever.”

  “Are things the same between you?”

  “Things are way better than before. Perfect really. Well, it’s all over the phone, if you know what I mean.”

  She stares at
me like I’ve grown another head, but then widens her eyes with realization. Her eyes get small and her smirk playful. “Oh. Scandalous! Is it . . . good?”

  “It’s amazing how much you can do with your own fingers and the sound of their voice, but I’m a little frustrated. More than a little. It’s tough wanting to just break down that wall and see him.”

  “And it’s not exactly economical to fly there and back.”

  “Right.”

  I begin to sink into that desperation that comes with being a few yards away from Patrick and not being able to touch. To know what he really feels like. Every night, he says all of these things, but even though it feels good, and even though I love the sound of his voice, is this what I’ll have for the rest of our time together?

  “It’s not like we’re dating anyway,” I say. “It’s just sort of physically. Or one-way physical.”

  “Oh, I don’t like this. You were so happy ten minutes ago! Go back to the good part. I’m sorry I said what I said. You can try. It’s different for everyone.”

  As if he’s sensing that we’re talking about him, Patrick chooses this precise moment to call me.

  The moon and stars are barely out and he must not have seen that Kayli’s truck is still there. I pick up the phone before she can see who is calling.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice low. I shut my eyes and push down the rippling sensation that spreads across my belly just listening to his voice gives me.

  “Hey! Can I call you in a few?” I don’t wait for an answer when I hang up.

  “Do you need me to go?” Kayli busts out laughing.

  I set my phone upside down and finish my wine. “Of course not. As Leslie Knope says, ‘Ovaries before brovaries.’ I hope we can keep having our dates when I’m back in school. We’ll meet at Scarlett’s, though, because my house won’t be good for visits.”

  “Are you all set for the new semester?” Kayli asks, nibbling on her crust.

  “Actually, that reminds me. I had this weird encounter today at the store.” I tell her about Keillor, my new roommate.

  “Hard pass. The Keillor brothers always were in a rivalry with the Donatello boys ever since they were kids. Girls, football, cars. Tommy is the youngest and the only one still in school. Not surprised he’d be nosy. But listen, if you need a place to stay, you can rent a room from me for what you’re paying now. It’s a little out of the way toward Big Sky, but it’s better than five roommates.”

  “I can’t pay you five hundred a month to live in your home.”

  “Of course, you can. I’m even sure Patrick would rent the pool house to you for even less.”

  “That would be great, but I can’t ask him to do that. Besides, I have to work at the studio for extra credits to finish my degree sooner.”

  “Want to leave us so quickly, huh?”

  “It’s something I just thought about today. I need to get back to my sister. I realized that when I was on the phone with her. It would be great if I can finish up by next summer.”

  “It’s great that she has you, I hope you know that, Lena.”

  I take a deep breath and admit something I haven’t to anyone else. “I wanted to adopt her two years ago. Filled out the paperwork and all.”

  “What? That’s huge.”

  I nod and refill my glass. “She was a wee thirteen-year-old. But no judge was going to hand her over to a college dropout. At least, that’s what my stepmother threatened me with.”

  “I know lawyers, Lena. Just say the word.”

  “I will,” I say, emboldened by her friendship. She didn’t even try to talk me out of it, like I don’t know what I’m doing the way Sonia spoke to me. “Ari still has three years of being a teenager and I’m not letting my stepmom mess them up.”

  “I’ve only known you for a short amount of time, but I know if anyone can do it, you can.”

  “Thanks, Kayli,” I say. We watch the fire reduce to ash and embers, and then I walk her to her car.

  I start to head back into the pool house when I realize my phone is ringing. Patrick. A tight coil digs into my stomach as I answer.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened at the store?” he asks, more worried than anything else. But there’s a tense, angry chord to his voice that makes my heart sputter.

  I look at my phone. “How do you know that?”

  “You didn’t hang up. I heard everything.”

  “You were spying on me?” I ask sharply.

  He sighs hard, a sound I’ve come to love in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry. I wanted to hear your voice and then—I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I stand in the blue pool light, fighting the anger and frustration and want. There’s still the want. I listen to him take a deep breath and release it slowly.

  “Lena?”

  “Pat?”

  “Come inside.”

  “Really?”

  “I think—I think so.”

  With a thundering heart, I open the kitchen entrance door. I haven’t been here in this time of night ever. The house is completely dark. Every single light is turned off. The only source of light is the moon shining through the glass walls, swollen and full, as spotlight on me as I step into the living room.

  “Patrick?” My heart is a bass drum in my ears.

  “Lena,” he says, softly behind me. I begin to turn around, but he grips my hips. “Don’t turn around. Please.”

  I hold my breath and fight the urge to spin on my heels and face him. I want to look into his eyes. I want to run my hands across his chest. I want to do all of the things he’s been promising every night in the shadows.

  But I stay put because I know that this is what he needs.

  When the pressure of his hands leaves me, I ache for it. I whisper, “Don’t let go of me yet, please.”

  I feel his hands wrap around my torso, trembling fingers flat on my stomach. I sink against the solid weight of him, the firmness of his chest. His chin rests on the back of my head, and I can feel him breathe me in. It isn’t fair that he gets to do that and I don’t.

  “Can I kiss you here?”

  I nod, brushing my hair away.

  When Patrick lowers his lips to the crook of my neck, it is everything I imagined and more. They are soft, pressing a reverent kiss on my bare skin. That kiss hollows out my insides and leaves me craving for more when it’s gone.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you tell me to come in here and still keep me at arm’s length?”

  “I’m trying, Lena.”

  The fact that his arms are wrapped around me, that I can feel how solid he is, is proof that he’s trying. Something hitches in my chest and I hold it in, like a wish I’m too afraid to speak out loud.

  “What changed?” I ask.

  “I heard what you said about your sister. Because I am trying to be better for you and I’m afraid of your reaction when you finally look at me.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I want to.”

  “That’s a no.”

  “Do you trust me?” he counters.

  “I think I could. I trust you right now. But you can’t eavesdrop on me. Maybe you can start by trusting that I’ll tell you when something is wrong. Can you do the same, Pat?”

  “When I came back to this house—” He holds me tighter and I brush my fingers across his arms. I can feel thick scars. I can feel the shudder of his breath as he speaks. “I came back here to die. I wanted to die. After the accident. I was going to do it. But I couldn’t.”

  “Oh, Pat.”

  “I don’t want that, Lena. I was in a bad place. I thought the people in my life would be better without me. But something else happened. I suddenly couldn’t leave. I couldn’t let anyone see me. I found a way to live and for a while, I thought I was doing the best I could and then you walked in here. You make me want to try to get better again. To be a better man. But I need a little bit more time.”


  I let tears run down my face and brush them away with my palms.

  You take in too many strays.

  That’s what Mari would say. But I know part of what Patrick is saying is a part of me, too. I did not come here to die. I came to Montana to run away. To hide. To forget about myself and leave a part of me behind.

  I don’t want to do that anymore.

  “Stay here,” he whispers in my ear.

  I rest my hands over his and feel the rough skin of scar tissue. I don’t let go. I want him to know that I’m not going to let him chase me away.

  “It’s a little difficult to stay here without turning around.”

  I feel his chuckle against my back. “I mean, here, in the pool house. Kayli is right. I’ll rent it to you. You can have it. Whatever you want.”

  “I want you.” I take his hand and guide it down my belly, and to the waistband of my shorts.

  I can feel him harden against me. He shudders. “Lena.”

  His hand is firm against my stomach, like he’s afraid to touch me, afraid to keep exploring. I don’t want to push him.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll stay. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

  I lean my head to the other side, brushing my hair away. I close my eyes and feel the sensation his lips bring to my skin, like I have been reduced to the fizz of champagne.

  It doesn’t make sense how someone whose face I haven’t seen makes me feel this way. But in this moment, I decide to not let that bother me. To memorize his mouth instead. To long for it.

  “Good night, Lena,” he whispers.

  And I’m not ready for how badly I want to follow him into the shadows.

  10

  Colder Weather

  PAT

  September

  The cold snap settles in a week into September. After months in California and Vegas, I’m not ready for it after just having gotten used to summer again.

  But there are benefits, too.

  Lena is staying at the pool house and she started school. She doesn’t feel right living here for free, so I told her that she could pay the same rent as she would have at the house off campus. We find a new routine from the one we had this summer. She has to wake up too early to eat a proper breakfast, but I leave the coffee percolating and I ordered her a travel mug. The only day she has completely off is Sundays, and then I leave her to catch up on sleep.