Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  I grunt.

  “Oh, my God,” she cries, spitting water as the shower drenches her clothes and hair and she tries to sit up. “You’re insane. What the hell?”

  But I clamp a hand over her mouth and pull her back. “I need you to stay.”

  The water sprays down as steam billows in the air, and I train my ears, listening for the people I’m hiding from as my stomach knots because I’m obviously a fucking girl.

  “Noah!” Dad bellows again.

  I drop my head back, letting out a sigh. “Why won’t he just fucking shut up?”

  I take my hand away from her mouth, but when she tries to bolt, I grab the back of her collar and pull her back to me again.

  “They’ll go away if we’re really quiet,” I tell her.

  “Have you seen your father?” she spits back. “He’s bigger than the door, Noah. All he has to do is push really hard with his hand, and if he breaks in here, he’ll make me do more chores, and I already did my morning stuff!”

  “Shhh!” I cover her mouth with my hand again. “They’ll shut up if we’re really, really quiet.”

  She mumbles behind my hand, something sounding like, “You’re an idiot.”

  I smile. It kind of feels like being a kid, hiding from our parents. Like hide and seek. I never had much of that. Kaleb stopped talking when I was three—too young to remember, so I can’t ever recall him as playful.

  There were a few times with my father, though. Some good memories before he got older and angrier.

  I look down at Tiernan.

  I was angry with her yesterday.

  But then I wasn’t.

  They don’t talk to me. No one talks to me.

  I wanted to wring her neck one minute, but then the next, I wanted to hold her.

  I got it. I knew what was wrong.

  She sucks in quick, sudden breaths, and I pinch her nose before she can sneeze.

  It cuts loose anyway as she spits on my hand, and I snort at the little whimper she lets out. I rinse off my hand and wrap my arm around her again.

  “What was it like in L.A.?” I ask her. “Tell me something about your life.”

  Anything. I want to go somewhere, even if we can’t leave the tub.

  But she remains silent.

  I lean my head back again, staring up at the ceiling.

  “You ever feel like you’re in a box?” I mumble. “And all you see are your four walls no matter what you do? No matter how far you walk, the view never changes?”

  “You can’t ask me what to do to be happy,” she says. “I came to Colorado.”

  Yeah, that won’t work for me.

  But for her…?

  “Did it work?” I ask, tugging her braid gently when she stays quiet. “Cuz?”

  She jerks her head away, throwing me a scowl, but I see the smile peek out. “I like my view a little better, yeah.”

  But then she does a double-take. “Your nose is bleeding.”

  I wipe it, pulling my hand back and seeing blood on my fingers. I rinse it off with water a few times, clearing the blood away.

  “You don’t need to be so violent,” I say as I jab her in the side for head-butting me.

  She squirms. “No, stop,” she argues as I jab some more. “I’m not a fan of tickling.”

  I laugh and continue to dig my fingers into her sides. She squeals, trying to get away, but there’s nowhere to go.

  “Noah?” A pound lands on the door. “You comin’ out? I have to leave.”

  Tiernan looks at me, and I jab her once more.

  “Noah’s not here,” I tell her what to say.

  She slaps my hand away. “No.”

  “Say it.”

  “No!” she whisper-yells.

  I jab her again, and she recoils. “Say it.”

  “It’s mean,” she replies through tight lips. “No!”

  I grab her arm. “I’ll snake bite you.”

  She slaps me as another knock lands on the door.

  I go for it. Fisting her forearm with both hands, I see her eyes go wide with fear, and I twist, watching her go kicking and screaming.

  “Ow!”

  We tussle, water flying everywhere, and she kicks and hits, her elbow almost landing right in my crotch.

  “Stop it,” she sputters, but she breaks out in uncontrollable giggles, and I release her finally.

  “You’re laughing,” I tell her.

  “I’m not.” She sits up, righting herself.

  My breathing calms, and my heartbeat slows again as she pushes stray hair out of her face but makes no move to leave the shower yet.

  I lean back, both arms resting on the sides of the tub and her leaning against the wall, her legs up and her Vans hanging over the side of the tub.

  “Why don’t you want to smile?” I ask her.

  She doesn’t ask for anything—doesn’t seem to want anything. She acted like it didn’t hurt her yesterday when Kaleb excluded her.

  I reach out, grazing my thumb over the skin between her eyebrows. “The wrinkles are always up here,” I tell her and then move my hand down to the corner of her mouth where her laugh lines should be. “But not here.”

  She looks over at me. The water spills around us, and I spot drops streaming down her face and catching between her lips. Lips that are full and pink and look like gum, soft and chewable.

  On reflex, I clench my teeth.

  “Noah!” My father pounds on the door.

  But I barely blink, unable to stop looking at her. Her wet legs, the water gliding down the sliver of chest visible, because of the lost button on my shirt…

  Tiernan holds my eyes. “Noah’s not in here,” she calls out.

  And I grin. Reaching out, I tickle her neck, and she tries to bite me before I pull away, laughing under my breath.

  My father’s footsteps fall away, and I’m not sure if he believes Tiernan or not, but at least he’s backing off.

  Hopefully, Remi is on her way, too. I used to feel bad about trying to get girls out of my house after we were done, but I can’t muster the effort to care.

  It’s not Remi’s fault, though. I know that. She’s just a reminder of how cheaply my time is spent.

  Tiernan digs behind her and brings up my beer bottle, which I lost at some point.

  She raises her eyebrows at me.

  “We’re going fishing,” I tell her. “It’s day-drinking day.”

  And I snatch it out of her hand, feeling that it’s still half-full before I take a swig.

  She shakes her head, but I spot the smile in her eyes.

  We’re quiet for a few seconds, and I kind of feel like she doesn’t want to go out there, either.

  “I love the beach,” she finally murmurs.

  I shoot my eyes up to her.

  “In L.A,” she clarifies, not looking at me. “It was my only favorite thing, I think.”

  Oh, right. I asked her about her life in California.

  She glances at me, a smile peeking out. “I can see you there,” she muses.

  Damn right, you can. I fit in everywhere.

  She pauses as she stares off. “When I was fourteen, I was obsessed with oldies music. I don’t know why.”

  I listen, liking having someone to talk to in the house.

  She continues, “I found out that Surf City, U.S.A. was actually Huntington Beach, California. So one rainy morning, I took my father’s ’47 Ford Woody,” she laughed a little, “—the only thing he owned that I loved—and I drove to Surf City. My parents were still in bed, and I was on spring break from school. I had never taken one of his cars. I didn’t even have a license yet. I just grabbed a backpack stuffed with books and… drove.”

  She drops her eyes, something I can’t read creasing her brow. I narrow my gaze as I watch her absently fiddle with the hem of my shirt that she wears.

  Something happened that day.

  When she speaks again, her voice is almost a whisper. “It was still early when I got there. I sat down on the
beach, watching the morning waves roll in.” A wistful look fills her eyes. “It was so beautiful. People love looking at the ocean at sunrise or sunset, but I love looking at it right before the sun is up or right after sundown.” A glint of excitement lights up her gray eyes as she looks over at me. “Everything is so calm, and the water has this blue-gray hue, like storm clouds. An ocean of storm clouds,” she muses. “The sounds of the waves are like a metronome through your body. The rain tapping your shoulders. The infinite horizon and the dream of just going and losing yourself somewhere out there. No one’s there. It’s peaceful.”

  A solemn look comes over her, and I hold my beer in both hands, watching her.

  “After a while,” she continues, “I finally stood up, lifted up my backpack, and strapped it on. It was so heavy with books, my knees almost buckled.”

  She swallows.

  “But I stood strong,” she mumbles. “And walked into the water.”

  I tighten my hand around the bottle. Walked into the…

  “I walked until the water came up to my waist,” she says quietly, staring off. “And then up to my shoulders.”

  With a pack of books on her back, weighing her down.

  “And when the water hit my mouth, I started swimming,” she tells me. “Struggling as I tore through the water as fast and hard as I could, because I wasn’t strong, and I knew any second the weight of the pack would take me down, but I wanted to go farther. I needed it to be deeper.” She hesitates, whispering her words like she’s thinking out loud. “So deep I couldn’t make it back. So I wouldn’t be able to make it back. My feet no longer brushed the ocean floor. I was going. Farther and further.”

  I know that feeling. The edge we dance when we want to get to the point of no return, so we have no choice but to keep going, but I always chicken out. I always fear doing things I can’t undo.

  “I remember that last moment,” she says, droplets glimmering across her now-tanned skin. “When my muscles burned, because I’d used every ounce of strength to keep myself and the pack up. The last moment, knowing I was about to go under. The weight pulling me down.” She shook her head gently. “Let myself go. Let it happen, I told myself. Just do it. Just do it. Just let me go.”

  I can see her, some pier close by as she fights to keep her head up and knowing there’s almost nothing saving her from the fathom below.

  “I dropped the pack.” She blinks. “I didn’t even go under.”

  Logically, I knew that. She’s still here, isn’t she?

  But still, I’m glad to hear it wasn’t a hard decision to stay.

  “Why’d you drop it?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t serious.”

  I reach out and graze her jaw with the backs of my fingers. “Or maybe you knew you had this and you were going to be okay.”

  Everyone contemplates suicide at some point, even if it’s just for a minute.

  And one thing is usually the root cause. Loneliness.

  She should’ve been with us. Why didn’t my father make contact? Invite her for the summers? Her parents would’ve let her. Probably would’ve been happy to get rid of her.

  And I would’ve been happy with someone to talk to, too. Less lonely myself.

  “Did they ever realize you snuck out?” I ask.

  She nods. “About a month later. When they got the bill for all the overdue library books I dumped at the bottom of the ocean.”

  A laugh bursts out of me, and I tug on her braid again, seeing her smile, too. First lesson in stealing Dad’s car, sweetheart—cover your tracks.

  I take another swig and pass the beer to her. “Do you ever go back to that beach?”

  “Every time it rains,” she replies, turning to look at me. “Except now I just bring one book and my earbuds.”

  She takes a big drink and passes the bottle back.

  I like this. I can’t remember the last time this house felt this good.

  “You’ve got this,” I hear her say.

  I look up to see her watching me.

  “And you’re going to be okay,” she finishes.

  She repeated my words back to me.

  And better yet…I didn’t have to tell her. If only my father could see anything beyond the end of his nose.

  “Rinse off,” she says, standing up. “And hurry up about it.”

  I down the rest of the beer, leaving it on the soap dish, and rise up, switching places with her. Our chests brush as she squeezes past, and I tip my head back, letting the water run over my scalp. She immediately turns toward the back of the tub to give me privacy.

  “You might want to get out.” I tug her braid twice. “So I can get naked.”

  “I’m dripping wet.”

  Suit yourself.

  I peel off my jeans and wring them out, tossing them out of the shower and seeing her eyes follow. Her back straightens as she locks her hands behind her back in some forced calm.

  I wash and rub the muscles in my neck, but I can’t take my eyes off her back the whole time.

  She needs a lot, and all of them are things you can’t buy. She needs to laugh and get drunk. She needs to be tickled and cuddled and carried and teased. I don’t want to see her cry, but if she does, I want her to know there’s comfort.

  She has a home.

  I shove the showerhead toward the wall, so I’m clear of the water, and grab a towel off the rack, wrapping it around my waist.

  Approaching, I stand just behind her, enjoying her nervousness. She’s barely breathing.

  And then a thought of what else a young woman might need occurs to me, and my smile falls.

  How does she feel when she gets carried away?

  I take her braid, rubbing the hair between my fingers as I lick my suddenly dry lips.

  She looks up at me, her eyes big for once, and I blink, snapping myself out of it.

  I gently pull on her braid again. “Blueberry pancakes?” I ask.

  I bat my eyelashes, giving her my best pouty face.

  “With extra blueberries?” I beg.

  She purses her lips and crosses her arms, looking away again.

  But she doesn’t say no.

  “Thanks.” And then I plant a kiss on her forehead and yank down hard on her braid again, chuckling and jumping out of the tub as she slaps my back in my escape.

  I pull the shower curtain closed for her and take another towel off the rack, drying my hair.

  Turning around, I reach for the door and unlock the knob, but then I see something come out of the shower out of the corner of my eye and stop.

  Tiernan’s flannel—my flannel—lays on the floor outside the tub, discarded.

  I dart my eyes up, squeezing the door handle as the shape of her through the white shower curtain moves. Jean shorts fall next, and I look away, still gripping the handle.

  My body warms.

  I can already hear it. The winter winds that will blow through the attic in a couple short months. The smell of the snow that will come this winter.

  Months of a quiet house and darkness and rooms with her in them. Moments, showers, corners, silent nights…

  And for once, I might be excited to be here for it.

  Without thinking, I twist the lock again and look over at her through the curtain.

  I can almost see her underwear sticking to her body. Remember the toned calves and thighs.

  What if she likes me? What if it’s just once? A secret? Something my father never has to know?

  Maybe not today but maybe tomorrow. Or next week. In here, in the shower, where no one has to see.

  But I shake my head and unlock the door, leaving quickly.

  Jesus Christ. That’s not what she needs.

  And another notch on my belt is not what I need.

  I need my head examined. The poor kid just lost her parents.

  “Oh, wow,” Tiernan says, jumping down from the truck and looking over at the waterfall.

  It took two hours to get chores done, get the
truck packed up with beers, snacks, and fishing gear, and drive up here.

  I slam the door as Kaleb starts walking toward the water. “Yeah…” I look across the small pond to the waterfall pouring over the cliff, hitting the surface, and the calm water flowing out of the alcove to a stream to the left.

  “I can see why you never left,” she says, smiling over at my dad.

  He smiles at her, pulling off his shirt.

  I glance at Tiernan, seeing a blush cross her cheeks as she averts her eyes back to the fall.

  I grit my teeth together. “Right?” I reply sarcastically. “Because the rest of the world has nothing else to offer.”

  I throw my dad a look and see his eyes narrow on me.

  “Get the cooler,” he orders.

  I smirk to myself as I do what I’m told. Pulling the cooler out of the bed, I walk it over to the beach, Tiernan following me. I’m aggravated she went to the other pond alone, but I’m glad we brought her to this one for her first time. This one is more fun.

  “Does no one else come here?” she asks.

  I set the cooler down, seeing her look around the small, empty beach.

  “They do,” I tell her. “But it’s still early. In the winter, though, we’ll have it to ourselves.”

  I pull off my shirt and kick off my shoes.

  “A frozen lake,” she muses. “To ourselves. Fantastic.”

  Cliffs rise in front of us, the water spilling down as trees and foliage surround us, shielding us from heavy sunlight, but to the left, the trees clear a little for the river as it babbles over rocks. Granite and moss fill my nostrils, and I might enjoy the sight if I hadn’t already been here a thousand times.

  I look over at Tiernan, liking that view better. She wears a pair of white shorts and one of her own plaid shirts, but it’s pink and blue and fitted like the expensive ones are. I take in her outfit. Is she swimming in that or…?

  “You okay?” I ask her, noticing she’s staring off.

  But when I follow her gaze, I see she’s watching Kaleb. He climbs the cliff next to the fall, wearing only jeans.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re gonna dive,” I tell her. “Wanna come?”

  “Dive?” She pulls her shades down over her eyes. “Won’t you scare the fish?”

  I chuckle. “Excuses, excuses.”