All We Left Behind

by Ingrid Sundberg

  “Marion.” Lilith snaps me back to the present, only she’s addressing the boys. “You have no idea,” she says, laughing. “I kiss Marion all the time.”

  What? That isn’t true! My neck warms and I pick up my pace, refusing to look back, like I didn’t hear.

  We’ve only kissed once. And it wasn’t a real kiss. Nothing’s a real kiss when you’re ten. We used to stay up late at night watching our favorite romance movies. Only we didn’t watch them so much as fast-forward through all the boring stuff until we got to the kisses: slow, hard, tongues, lips. It was a fascination. Only one night Lilith locked her bedroom door and asked if she could kiss me instead.

  “You know, so we can understand how to do it,” she explained. “Like practice.”

  I gripped my pillow, wanting to watch the movie and forget this.

  “I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t. “You mean open our mouths and use our tongues?”

  “Yeah.” Lilith nodded, sitting on the bed beside me. “It’ll be like a science experiment.”

  I didn’t move.

  “It’ll be easy.” She nodded again. “We’ll just lean in and move our tongues around and see what happens.”

  “Just move our tongues around?”

  “Like they do in the movies.”

  “And we won’t tell anyone?”

  “Of course not!” Lilith’s eyes went wide.

  I pressed my hands into her pink bedspread. I wanted kissing to be special, but I wanted to be good at it too. And this was Lilith.

  If I could trust anybody, it would be her.

  “Okay,” I whispered, looking at the floor. “What do I do?”

  “Close your eyes!” she squealed, and I shut my lids.

  I felt the bed shift as she shuffled up next to me. It was quiet and I waited, but she didn’t do anything. I held my breath and my body stiffened with the cold thought that she was playing a joke on me.

  But then her mouth hit mine. It was solid and dry and I couldn’t react before her lips opened up like a fish’s, globing wide and rubbery. I opened my mouth and we twisted our faces back and forth, jabbing our tongues at each other. She moaned like the ladies in the movies and gasped for air before pressing her hand against my chest and pinching me through my shirt. She pushed the fabric up and rubbed her hand over my front and I think she wanted me to touch her, too. She’d already started to grow in that area. I had nothing but flatness and skin.

  When she stopped kissing me we both sat at the end of her bed in the awkward quiet. I ran my toes against the zipper of my Disney princess sleeping bag on the floor. The metal felt jagged and grounding.

  “Did you feel anything?” she asked.

  I stiffened, not sure what she meant. “Did you?” Panic spread in my gut. I tried to think of a lie, something that wouldn’t hurt her feelings despite the slobbering and the moaning and whatever that was.

  “No,” she said. “I guess it’s different with boys.”

  She got up and unlocked the door, as if nothing had happened. As if I wasn’t sitting at the edge of her bed with my shirt half off and my lips still bruised with the taste of her.

  A branch smacks my face and I wipe it away, hearing Lilith behind me.

  “Oh, you know it’s true,” she says, and I peek back to see they’ve caught up. “We’re best friends,” she continues, catching my eye and taking my hand. “We share everything.”

  “Yeah, right,” says Mark, the tallest, egging her on. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pretending I don’t know what this is about, trying to untangle my fingers. “What are we—”

  But Abe’s look unsettles me. His eyes are dark and intrigued, like I’ve swallowed a secret and he wants to unfold it.

  “Seeing is believing, you say?” Lilith says, fluttering her lashes at Mark. She ignores what I said and twirls me into a wooded nook.

  “Lilith! What are you—?”

  “Just play along!” she coos in my ear, and the boys fill up the space behind us. The whites in their eyes go wide and I can’t look at Abe. I’m too embarrassed with Lilith mussing up my hair. Maybe he knows I’d rather her hands were his.

  “Come on, Marion,” Mark says. “Admit it. You’ve never kissed Lilith before.”

  My mouth is dry, but a hot pulse shoots through me from the eagerness in his voice. And I don’t know if it’s the safety that Lilith’s a girl or the power to tease him that makes me brave.

  “Oh?” I say, and the fact that it’s true makes it easier to say. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You want me to lie to you?”

  The boys whoop and Lilith cackles, rubbing her thumb against my ear in approval. But it’s the anticipation in the boys’ eyes, pooled wet in their pupils, that makes me feel powerful.

  “You want a show?” Lilith asks, and I almost tell her to stop. But it’s the boys’ eyes—Abe’s eyes—on us, that flood me with heat, down to my stomach and below. I nuzzle my face in Lilith’s neck and she purrs, pulling me closer as the air cinches tight.

  One of the boys whistles and I hope it isn’t Abe. I don’t know if I like the idea that he’s into this, even though it makes my skin prickle. Lilith laughs, and her neck smells of peppermint.

  “You’re just a tease,” Mark says, but Lilith lifts my chin.

  Our eyes meet and her breath is soft as she strokes my neck. She hesitates, perhaps wondering if I’m okay with this—but then her mouth is on mine. Lips blooming. She’s gotten better at this. Much better.

  Whistles flood my ears, singing fiercely and pushing us together. I shiver, like I’m being unfolded and don’t want it to stop. But it’s not Lilith and the taste of her that excites me.

  It’s them watching. It’s Abe watching.

  It’s their eyes on our mouths and on our hips pressing one-two and against. It’s the rush that comes with hearing the whistles and “hell yeahs” that rocks me, and scares me, and holds me hard against her—

  Wishing I could do this with Abe. Or Kurt. Or anyone. But knowing I’m only brave enough when it’s Lilith. Knowing her kiss isn’t dangerous.

  But I want to keep this heat. Want to keep this power, that Lilith can harness with a breath, that makes them pant and want and sweat. I press into Lilith, tasting the sweet of her mouth, knowing this power isn’t mine, and that I’ve only temporarily borrowed it. Knowing that soon—

  Soon—

  Soon—

  It will be over. And she’ll take it back again.

  * * *

  Abe is in the hallway outside the locker room waiting for me. I catch him drumming his fingers against the painted cement and staring at the floor.

  “Hey,” he says as I come out of the girls’ room, and we share an awkward smile.

  “Hi,” I say, remembering how he used to wait for me after classes when we were dating. Only Lilith’s behind me, pushing her way through the door. She laughs when she sees Abe waiting.

  “What’s up, Babe-ra-ham?” she says obnoxiously, squeezing my side and nudging me toward him.

  “Lilith,” Abe acknowledges dryly, rolling his eyes.

  “Just calling it as I see it, Mr. Lincoln,” Lilith quips, but Abe shuffles his feet like he wishes she wasn’t here. I nudge her to get the hint and she doesn’t have to be told twice. “Right, so, I have play practice,” she announces, checking me. “I’ll get a ride home from Jen.” I nod for her to go and she squeezes me before leaving. “Later, Mr. President.”

  Abe jams his hands into his pockets as she stalks away, like this has turned into a much bigger moment than he intended.

  “Hi,” I say again.

  “Hi,” he repeats, and my stomach tickles, suddenly hoping he’s about to ask me out. Maybe that kiss has made him see me differently, as not that girl on the Ferris wheel saying terrible things.

  “I just, you know,” he says awkwardly, looking to make sure Lilith’s gone. “I know there was a bunch of us and all, but I want you to know you don’t have
to do that.” He nods outside to the trail.

  Mud crawls through me, squeezing mush between my toes.

  “Do what?” I dig my fingernail into the cement to chip away the paint.

  “Let Lilith do that,” he says. “Kiss you.”

  My fingernail rams into a section of paint that’s stuck hard; it won’t flake off.

  “It’s not a thing,” I say sharply. “We do it all the time. Plus, you all loved it?”

  His eyes go dark, like outside, but I can’t tell if that’s an act or if he really enjoyed watching.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if you like it,” he says.

  My insides squirm and I don’t want to be here. I pound the flat of my palm against the cement like it might ground me.

  “I’m not whoever you think I am,” I say. “I’m not who I was when we—” I hate this conversation. I hate that I kissed Lilith and he could see right through it. “Just forget it, all right? It was a stupid Lilith thing. Like always.”

  “Sure.” He nods, and I hate the straightforwardness in him, like he doesn’t regret bringing this up and we’re allowed to go back to being candid with each other after two years of silence. Like that silence hasn’t changed me. “Hey.” He smiles, breaking the tension, tossing hair from his eyes. “All I meant is Lilith likes the attention, being the drama queen and all. You . . . you don’t have to do what she does.”

  “I’m not Lilith.”

  “Exactly.”

  “She’s my friend,” I say, looking for the exit. “It’s just fun. I don’t know why you’re making this a thing.”

  “I’m not,” he says quickly. Only, this is a thing. Nobody wants me to have this power. “You’re just better than that,” he says finally, and it feels like a slap.

  I can’t swallow and the air feels like it’s gone. Abe looks at his feet.

  “Right, so, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he mumbles awkwardly, before heading down the hall, and I want to scream as he goes. Doesn’t he get it? I’m not better than Lilith. Sure, I don’t have to be her, but I also can’t be me.

  Suddenly I wish it was Kurt in those woods watching me and Lilith, whooping with the others and playing along. Kurt, who doesn’t know me. Kurt, who will let me reinvent myself. Kurt, who isn’t afraid of this power.

  Kurt

  Running at practice feels like freedom.

  We do drills. Then Coach splits the team in half and we scrimmage, like boys on the playground. Field slick with dew. Mud on our shins. Troy pops the ball, high, clearing it from one side to the next, and I speed to reach it.

  Sprint.

  Remembering what it is to want something, even if that wanting is to let go, trust my feet, and not think. It isn’t a choice. It’s instinct. And it only happens if I give in to it, if I commit. It’s the point when I accept that bones could break and shins could splint, and I don’t care, because that little bit of freedom is all mine and I’m going to take it.

  Hesitate and it’s over. One second and the other team gets the ball. Two seconds and your kneecaps tear off. Three, forget three, it’s only guilt and regret.

  Don’t think. Don’t breathe. Charge.

  I trap the ball and dribble up the line. The ease slides over me, like a numbness, and everything else ceases to exist. I square up the shot and take it.

  Like it’s all I’ve got.

  ’Cause if I believe there’s more—

  I’ll miss.

  * * *

  After practice I find Vanessa sitting on the hood of my car. She’s got a basket of O’Dell’s fries sitting in her lap and a Coke straw pinched between her lips. It’s freezing out. But she doesn’t seem to care with her tight shirt showing off just how cold it is. I think she likes the fact that it makes me stare.

  “What do you want?” I say, snagging a fry.

  “You’re an asshole,” she says, and I shrug. I walk past her and open the door to throw my bag in the back. She twists to look at me, her black hair slipping off her shoulders. “What the fuck was that at the lake? You ignore me, then take a swim? What’s your deal?”

  “I’m moody,” I say, throwing her a half smile. She rolls her eyes and groans, the straw sliding from her mouth.

  “A moody asshole,” she says, finding the straw again with her tongue, which looks sexy and stupid at the same time.

  “Are you gonna get in the car or not?” I nod to the passenger seat, and she glares at me. I wait and she rolls herself off the hood and climbs in, which I knew she’d do.

  That’s exactly why I like her.

  It’s why this works.

  I take Vanessa to the lookout, where she climbs on top of me and I forget everything else. I forget about soccer, and school, and Josie, and Marion. I remember why I like my life the way it is.

  Disposable like this.

  Good like this.

  Marion

  At home I lock my bedroom door and turn out the light. I climb under the covers and lean back, sliding my legs between the feather down and cotton.

  Dad is still at work and everything’s quiet.

  It’s just me, and this bed.

  I think about Lilith and that power she has. That fire burning somewhere inside. Those boys reacted when I kissed her, but that energy, it was all her. Not me. I’m not sure such a thing could be mine. Or how to find it. That power is like my hair, it enchants, but it comes from someplace outside of me, and I have no control over who or why.

  If you want it, take it.

  The sheets are cold against my skin. I pull the covers up to my neck and think about being someone else. With someone else.

  I think about the bonfire. I think about my skin, soft and puffy. Think about Kurt’s skin, his shoulders, his chest. I think about stretching, and limbs, and wet.

  I reach down, over my belly, below. . .

  Not sure if I should—

  The water could drown me.

  Kurt

  It’s dark when I drop Vanessa off at her house. It’s even darker when I drop my practice bag on the floor and notice how empty my house is. Quiet. It’s the complete opposite of the way it was with Mom. No more music. No more Josie blasting the world out with her stereo set on high. Just silence and ash. I let it hum and don’t disturb it with the TV or the record player. I like it like this.

  The quiet’s mine.

  In my room, I flip through my chemistry book and attempt to do my homework. But chemistry makes me think of Marion sitting those three seats ahead of me with that lab partner of hers. The one she used to date, who makes her laugh like he’s the funniest thing on earth. Not that I want to make Marion laugh. Or do anything with her. Except maybe unbutton that shirt of hers and get her out of my system.

  I try to focus, but I can’t. Blond-fire’s got me annoyed. I get up. Circle the kitchen. Pick through the cabinets. I flip through Mom’s records in the living room: Alison Krauss, Joni Mitchell, Waylon Jennings. Of course, I’m not going to listen to any of them. I chew through an energy bar and half a cup of ice, only to find myself in the bathroom, which is the only room in the house with a door that locks.

  If I’m going to think about Marion, then I’m going to think about her like this.

  I ease myself down onto the linoleum and I imagine her with her hair down. Biting her lip like Vanessa does. My feet hit the bathtub and my spine curls against the door. She inches up her skirt and—my head rolls back and I enjoy it. The thought of her hair rocking forward. Her hips. The hitch in her breath. My mouth, her—

  The room smells like sweat when I’m finished. I open a window, but that lets in the hiss of the neighbor’s sprinkler and the chatter of dogs yapping with their chains scraping against cement. I wash my hands and think I might go for a run or play my guitar, but I don’t want any of it.

  Instead, I go into Josie’s room and lie on her bed. The sheets are straight and perfect. Waiting for her. If she wants back here.

  I get out my cell phone, pull up her number, and hit send.

 
It rings and rings and rings. She doesn’t pick up. There used to be a phone message after all that ringing, but there isn’t even that anymore. Of course I know she isn’t going to answer.

  I call to listen to the silence. To remember what I can’t change.

  Kurt

  I’m late for class.

  The afternoon bell rang five minutes ago and I take the stairs two at a time, counting my steps like I’m keeping rhythm on my guitar. I make a pattern of it—two-three, two-four, two-six—when I practically crash into her.

  Marion.

  I flinch and move to the side and we both find our balance. My hand catches the railing and Marion’s grabs the wall, and we stand there looking at each other, half between steps. Not going up. Not going down.

  Her mouth is part open, her hair up, and there’s dust in the sun between us. I think I should say something, but the railing sticks to my palm and my neck starts to itch.

  “Hi,” she says, and I watch her mouth close. Swallow and don’t say anything.

  I wait for her to talk and she waits for me, and somewhere in the hall below us comes the clang of metal against the floor. It’s probably one of the cafeteria workers unloading ketchup.

  I push off the railing and walk away from her, regaining my balance enough to wipe my palms on my jeans. At the top platform, I can’t help but look back. In the same way I can’t help calling my sister. I want Marion to be there.

  She is, sunned with dust in her hair.

  “Hey,” I say.

  She perks up and kind of smiles. But this is like the lake, where I don’t have anything to follow it.

  So I just nod. And go to class.

  Marion

  My eyes scan the soccer field. It’s been forty minutes since the last bell and the parking lot’s deserted.

  Yet here I am, watching.

  That hello in the stairwell wasn’t an invitation, but it was something. And I don’t know how much time that hello will grant me before this small door of space slams shut again. If I want it—

  Kurt’s number eleven. He’s easy to pick out because he’s fast, slipping past his teammates like a trick of the light. It keeps me glued to this patch of grass, with my hands finger-hooked through the chain link, trying to kindle that power Lilith has. Not sure if I even know how. If it takes flint or skin. But here I am, because I don’t want to be the girl Abe thinks I am.