by Calia Read
“I’m thirteen,” I said. “I’m already older, wiser, and smarter.”
He laughed. “Okay. Well, you have to graduate high school. Then you can go wherever you want.”
I ducked my head and stared down at my shoes. “I want to go wherever you are.”
“Don’t say that. If you could go anywhere… anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
I hadn’t thought that far. I dreamed up places but I never thought those dreams would come true. “I-I don’t know.”
“Don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?” He held his hands out in front of him. “Be adventurous, kid! When you get out there, you can do anything you want!”
Lachlan made it sound simple. Easy. Like it was one foot in front of the other.
“I will,” I promised. “You’re gonna tell me everything about college, right?”
His hands lowered. He smirked like what I said was funny. I wanted to ask him what was so funny. I wanted to lean forward and say, ‘Tell me what makes you laugh. I want to know the inside joke.’
But I didn’t.
“Not everything, but most,” he said.
“I’ll miss you,” I whispered.
Lachlan smiled at me before he stood up and walked away. “Miss you too, kid.”
I looked away.
“Cheer up. I’ll still see you in the summer. Okay?”
He was my happiness. And my happiness was leaving me to travel 2,100 miles away to find his own happiness. How could I be okay?
The next day he left, and I had to figure out what to do with this big gaping hole he left in my life. He would keep in contact with short, friendly e-mails. Each time I saw a new message from him, my heart would hammer wildly in my chest and I would click on the message, not expecting much. Lachlan was my source for living and those messages kept me going.
I would read the messages enough times that I had the words memorized. I would read them to Lana and she would sit on my bed, smiling but shaking her head at me as if I’d lost my mind. Her visits to my house were becoming more and more frequent. We started to forge a bond that was unbreakable. We became close enough that we would fight like sisters and seconds later move to a different subject like nothing had happened.
And that’s how I survived the first year of his absence.
But now it was August. He was home. I didn’t know how long he’d stay, but all that mattered was that he was here.
Finally.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus on my words. “I’ll be really busy this summer, Lachlan. I won’t be able to see you that much.”
“No, no, no,” I said and rubbed my hands down my face. “That’s all wrong. He’ll know I’m lying.”
The wood creaked loudly and seconds later I heard, “Are you talking to someone?”
I scrambled to a sitting position and watched Lachlan climb into the treehouse. My embarrassment disappeared and was replaced by happiness at the sight of him. He had grown so much he had to duck to avoid the branches as he walked over to me.
Every year I noticed more things about him. At ten, I thought he was cute. I would write his name on pages. Over and over. Sometimes our names would be in hearts. Sometimes it was just his name alone. At eleven, I wanted to kiss him. Didn’t know why. I just had this urge to press my lips against his head. At twelve it was his hair. It always looked so messy and I wanted to touch it to see if it was soft or not. Thirteen, I memorized the way he smiled. And now, at fourteen, I noticed everything about him. Shoulders. Arms. Hands.
Everything.
I shook away my thoughts. “I was just… talking to myself.”
“That sounds healthy.”
My cheeks turned beet red.
“I leave for school and you go crazy on me?” Lachlan teased.
“Ha, ha.”
He sat across from me and sighed. “Can’t believe you still come up here.”
I patted the wooden boards beneath me. “I told you I’d use it.”
“Yeah. You weren’t lying.”
We sat in companionable silence. He was looking at the sky and I was looking at him. His head started to turn and I looked away before he caught me.
“How has your summer been?” he asked.
I shrugged and reminded myself to answer casually. “It’s been good.”
“Hanging out with Lana?”
“Yep.”
“Am I ever going to meet her?”
“Sure.” I leaned back against the railing, making myself comfortable. “Whenever she gets the courage to come over here with me.”
“And that will be?” His question hung in the air.
“Never,” I said bluntly.
“She’s that shy?”
“She’s that shy,” I confirmed.
“Have you said terrible stuff about me?” Lachlan said teasingly.
“The worst,” I said without missing a beat. “I tell her about all the times I’ve come up here to see you and you weren’t here.”
I couldn’t keep the bitterness inside any more.
Lachlan looked at me with surprise. I was even shocked over my outburst.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said with concern.
“Yes.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side. “Something isn’t right.”
“Everything is fine,” I vowed.
Lachlan refused to let it go. “You’re not your usual, happy self.”
“I promise,” I uttered slowly, “I’m fine.”
Lachlan exhaled loudly and looked around. It was awkward.
I wasn’t fine, or good, or great. I was… nothing. But how could I tell that to Lachlan? I could barely figure out what was wrong myself. Lana said it was just the age. She said all teenagers go through it. I asked her why she wasn’t going through it and she shrugged, asked what I was feeling. I told her that one minute I would be so happy, feeling like I could take on everything in the world and how, out of nowhere, I would be in a complete daze. Then I would turn moody and so sad it felt like I couldn’t breathe. She stared at me, blankly. I asked her if she’d ever felt that way. She looked down at the ground and said: ‘I have the sadness, but never the happiness.’
“So…” Lachlan drew out. I quickly shook my head, brushing away the memory. “Any new stories to tell? There has to be something brewing in that mind of yours.”
I smiled, relieved that he changed the subject. There were new stories every day. When my imagination wasn’t running wild, I would sit down at my desk and write until my hand became sore.
“I’m still writing. But I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere.”
“Are you going to let me read one?”
I blushed. “No.”
I knew what my stories were. Love letters to Lachlan. In every single story, he was my muse for the hero. When I wrote, when I imagined, my heart bled out a piece of the truth.
“Why not?” he asked.
I shrugged and brushed away the dirt that was scattered across the floorboards. “They’re just stories.”
“Just stories,” he repeated.
“I’d tell you,” I said in a rush. “But you’re probably too old for them.”
“Me? Old? Get real. I’ll never outgrow your stories.”
My pulse was pounding as I replayed his words. I hoped he meant what he said. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Because—”
“I’m serious. I want to hear one.”
I relaxed, looked up at the endless sky, and closed my eyes. Once again, Lachlan drew me into a little world of dreams. I could live there forever. And who could blame me? The imagination is the best place to be.
My shoulders loosened and all those jittery nerves seemed to disappear as I talked.
I told him my story. It was the end of days and only five people were left on Earth. But they weren’t alone. There was another group of people called the Eights. They looked human but were monsters, sent to destroy mankind. The five survivors ha
d to band together to live.
I talked until my voice was scratchy, until my pulse was pounding from excitement. Until the story was told from start to finish.
Lachlan let out a whistle. “That’s a good one.”
Anxiously, I leaned closer. “You think so?”
“I think you know it’s good.”
I smiled so hard my cheeks started to hurt. I could bask from his praise for hours, but I wanted to know what he had been up to.
“How have you been?”
Lachlan leaned against the wood railing and crossed his arms. My eyes veered to his hands. Compared to my small hands, his long fingers were massive. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I pulled my eyes back to his face.
“It’s summer break and I don’t have to study for hours, so I’m doing really good.”
I frowned. “You don’t like college?”
“I like college.”
“It doesn’t sound like you do.”
“I do,” he started out slowly. “There are just some parts I like a lot more.” He gave me a shit-eating grin.
I was old enough to know that he was talking about girls and it was a physical blow. Like someone had punched me in my chest.
I chewed on my bottom lip and stared at my tennis shoes. There was one question I was dying to ask. I nervously looked at him.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I was proud of myself. My voice didn’t waver and my cheeks hadn’t turned red… yet.
“Right now? No. But I’ve had a few.”
“I remember… Laura Kline.” I made a face and a gagging noise.
He smirked. “Why are you so curious? Are you getting into all that boyfriend and girlfriend teenager shit?”
I tilted my head. “Teenager shit?”
“You know…” He waved a hand in the air. “Holding hands and all that stuff.”
“I don’t know… I guess so.”
“Who’s the dude?”
I’m looking at him, I thought to myself.
“Some guy,” I said evasively.
“Ah… he’s a guy. Not a boy. Must be older… what, fifteen?” he teased.
I narrowed my eyes. “Much older than fifteen.”
He frowned. “Kid, anything that’s older than fifteen is too old for you.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It really is,” he argued.
I picked up a leaf lying next to me and twirled it around. He didn’t know what was best for me. No one did but me.
“Can I give you some advice?”
I lifted my eyes to his and said reluctantly, “I guess so.”
“Every guy your age is an asshole. Don’t trust them.”
“What about your age?”
He gave me a grin that made me suck in a sharp breath. “We’re still assholes. Basically, you can trust none of us. And all that kissing stuff?” He shook his head. “Don’t do that either.”
My eyes narrowed. “So what can I do?”
“Write letters or shake hands.”
“Shake hands?” I said skeptically.
“Yeah. That’s all you need.”
I frowned and didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what I wanted but I knew one thing. I didn’t want to shake his hand. I looked at Lachlan and caught him staring at me. His brows were knitted together, and I was too afraid to ask him what he was thinking about, too afraid that he would give me more ‘boy advice’.
I quickly spoke up. “What time is it?”
He looked at me a second longer and grabbed his phone. “It’s 2:15.”
“In the morning?”
“No. In the afternoon. The sun just didn’t feel like rising today.”
I lightly kicked his foot. I stood up and brushed the dirt off the back of my shorts. “I need to get home.”
I didn’t want to leave. It felt as if Lachlan had just climbed up that ladder seconds ago and now our time was up.
“How long are you home?” I asked.
“For a week and then I gotta head back to school.”
I stared at the floorboards. A week wasn’t even close to the amount of time I wanted with him. But I would take what I could get.
Lachlan stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Lachlan stood and walked over to me. He patted me on the head. My jaw was clenched tight over the brotherly action.
“All that stuff I said about boys… you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”
“I know. Thanks,” I mumbled before I ducked out from under his hand.
I didn’t want him warning me. I wasn’t his little sister. If I could see that, why couldn’t he?
“I’m here for a week,” he called out. I stopped walking. “I brought home some fireworks for you. I know I missed your birthday, but I thought we could still light them up.”
It was a peace offering.
Before I climbed down the ladder, I smiled at him. “That sounds good.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lachlan said.
Before I jumped onto my saddle, I glanced back at him. He was looking at me with concern written all over his face. For a moment I just basked in that concern. Even though he had been gone for so long, nothing had really changed. He was still there for me and I hoped to God that he would always be there for me. That time, age and experience would never change that.
“I’m fine,” I said, and rode back to my house.
And I was… for now.
I wake up with a gasp.
My hands are gripping the sheets tightly. Sweat trickles down my spine and my heart is racing.
It takes me a minute to realize where I am and when I do, I drop my face into my hands. I want to go back to that memory and live there, when everything was so simple.
After I take a deep cleansing breath, I lift my head and look around. I expect to find him bent down in the corner, staring me down, snickering, screaming expletives in my face. But there’s no one looking back at me with hate.
It’s just me here. All alone.
I wrap my arms around my waist, turn my head and watch the sun slowly rise.
I think of Lachlan the whole time.
“How are you, Naomi?”
I glance at Dr. Rutledge as I take a seat. “I’m good.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“All right, I guess.”
“Excellent.” She takes a sip of her coffee before she grabs her pen. “How about we get started then. Can you tell me—?”
“Miss me?” Max whispers.
Suddenly, he’s right next to me. My heart does somersaults in my chest.
His presence is powerful enough to suspend reality. My head stays forward, but my eyes turn at the sound of his voice. I soak in his features. The slant of his dark brows. His bright hazel eyes. The curve of his lips. My fingers grip the armrests so I don’t reach out and touch him. I miss him so much.
His hands curve around the arm rests, inches away from my elbows. A few seconds later, I feel the hard wall of his chest press against my shoulder. It’s tantalizing. His hair brushes against my jaw as he leans close and the scent of his aftershave reaches my nose. His lips brush against my ear and I jump.
“Keep talking to her. It’s your only chance of getting out of here.”
I swallow and look at Dr. Rutledge. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear her. I can only hear Max.
I know what he’s saying is the truth. Dr. Rutledge is my only ticket to getting out of here. And when I get out of here, I can help Max and Lana and everything will be better. Not perfect, just better.
“I miss you,” Max whispers into my ear. His voice is like sharp talons around my heart. Each word that comes out of his mouth pierces me, making my breath hitch. My face remains forward but I can just see his lips curving up into that sexy smile of his. “I need you to come back.”
And just like that he’s gone. His scent. His voice. His presence. All gone. I hang my head, wanting so bad to scream in frustrati
on.
I had him. Just for a minute Max was with me, but that is almost worse than not seeing him.
When I look at Dr. Rutledge, she’s staring at me with a confused look on her face. She doesn’t know that I was just given the highlight of my day. Maybe my whole week.
“Did you hear me?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry… what?”
“I asked if we could pick up where we left off last session.”
I nod. “Yeah…” I say slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Words start to spill from my mouth and the whole time, Max’s voice echoes in my head.
“Keep talking to her. It’s your only chance of getting out of here.”
“I dropped him as a client.”
My window was down, letting the warm breeze whip my hair around my face. I didn’t bother pushing the strands away. It just felt good to have a moment of freedom. Where I had no worries. But there was Max, ripping me out of this peaceful moment.
I turned in my seat and gaped at him. “What?”
Max shifted gears and kept his eyes on the road. He was dressed down today, in a simple pair of jeans and dark blue t-shirt. The sun slipped in through the open sunroof, slashing across his forearm.
It was a hot summer day. The kind where you just want to tilt your head back, close your eyes and do nothing but dream. We drove down a twisted country road with nothing but green grass around us. We had no destination; we just drove to get away from McLean.
A week had passed since I discovered the truth about Lana. I wish I could say that everything was starting to smooth itself out, but nothing had changed.
Lana’s dad was still free. Lana was still staying at her family’s house. So was I. I wasn’t leaving until she left. So I pleaded for her to get out of there, but she wouldn’t budge. She would always say the same thing: nothing happened. Sure, for the time being he was leaving Lana alone, but for how long? There was an expiration date. I didn’t know when it would arrive, but I could feel it creeping up on the two of us.
It was inevitable that I would see Lana’s dad. After the party, I expected him to say something to me, but he didn’t. He just stared at me carefully. Sometimes he would smile and it was like he knew how badly I wanted to tell someone but couldn’t. When I did encounter him, I would always react the same way. My chest would tighten and I would feel panic sweep through me, leaving me paralyzed. He would leave the room or the house and it was only then that I would be able to breathe evenly.
