Fireflies Glow Only in the Dark

by Ruth Morse

  “Why did he look so happy?” Max asked when they disappeared after the turn.

  “Now he has something to distract Mrs. Cambage from that stupid tea service.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Us. I noticed how she looked at my wet hair. No doubt she’ll tell everyone that she saw Lana Hunter with some guy, just after the joint shower they had—or whatever else her gossipy mind comes up with.”

  Max smiled. “Lana Hunter. I like that,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. “So, how bad it is that they saw us?”

  I shrugged. “Seven out of ten.”

  “Oh.” His smile widened. “And what would be nine, for instance?”

  “If my dad saw,” I replied with a chuckle.

  “What? He doesn’t allow you to date?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but then stopped short. My lips curved into a playful smile. “Are you implying that we’re dating?” I asked.

  Max hesitated. He glanced at me, his eyes studying my face thoughtfully. I lowered my head. I already regretted ever coming up with such a stupid joke. He took a step forward and his hand found mine, gently covering my fingers with his open palm. Cautiously, I raised my eyes to look at his, and the tenderness I saw there made them sparkle. I felt safe.

  “I don’t like all that girlfriend-boyfriend stuff,” Max said. “It sounds so trivial. I’ll ask this instead. Will you be with me?”

  I paused and crossed my arms over my chest, thinking over the answer. Now it was my turn to act evasively.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, borrowing his half smile.

  Max laughed. “Am I that unbearable?”

  “You can only imagine,” I replied, smiling broadly.

  “Okay, I’ll fix it then. But you still didn’t give me your answer.”

  “I thought you already guessed it…” I giggled.

  His face filled with remorse. “Oh, I got it, all right! Now tell me. I really wanna know, Lana,” he said, his voice soft yet persistent.

  I nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Of course I will, Max,” I whispered, trying desperately not to blush, but already feeling blood rushing to my face.

  He pulled me close and lifted me in the air, spinning me around and kissing every spot on my face. I twisted my body so he’d be able to reach my neck. I laughed, feeling a slight tickle every time his lips touched my skin. Max pulled away a little and looked into my eyes. “I’m happy, Lana,” he said. “I really am.”

  ***

  I opened the door to the delicious smell of dinner cooking, and it instantly made me gulp.

  “Lana, is that you?” Mom’s voice came from the kitchen.

  “Hi Mom!”

  The TV was on. From the tense look on Dad’s face, I guessed there was a game going on. Even the breathtaking smell from the kitchen couldn’t distract Dad from his TV, which meant the game was live and he mustn’t be disturbed. That was totally fine with me. I said hello without him really noticing and quickly slipped into the kitchen.

  Mom stood near the oven. She was trying to set the timer and was hopelessly failing. She was always at odds with electronics. I walked around her and pressed the right button, asking, “How long should I set it for?”

  “Eight minutes. Thanks, honey. How was your day?”

  “Better than ever. Yours?”

  “Oh, not that great. Ashley is completely out of control; she never shows up on time and leaves whenever she wants. She has a boyfriend now. How nice for her! But what am I supposed to do? I’m on my last legs with all these new clients this summer. Where have they all been the other seasons, covering their faces with masks?”

  I leaned on the table, using my right hand to prop up my head. My eyelids were so heavy I could hardly keep them open. Mom’s voice started to slip away. The words she uttered faded into a silent melody as if somewhere near me the radio was playing. Muffled tidbits of the conversation filled my mind.

  “… and I told her, ‘If you’re not going to follow the rules, I’ll have to ask you to leave…’ ”

  “… Ashley stood there with her eyes on me. She didn’t have a damn clue what I was asking for…”

  “… I didn’t get what she was trying to hint at. Maybe you could explain to me?”

  “Huh?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “I said Mrs. Cambage called.”

  My sleepiness vanished as if by magic.

  “What did she want?” I asked.

  “She said she saw you with some guy today. And that you had ‘suspiciously wet hair.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Yeah, we just met today.” My mind raced to come up with something believable. “He’s Mel’s friend. He was heading my way, so we walked together.”

  “And where was Melanie?”

  “She took off earlier. Had some things to do. I didn’t ask. And then I went home. And then I ran into that guy.”

  “And the hair?”

  “What about it?”

  “Why was it wet?”

  “We swam.”

  “With Melanie?”

  “Yep.” I smiled. “We had a really great time. Didn’t eat much though.”

  As soon as I finished the sentence, the timer rang. Mom hurried to the oven. She was too busy getting out the roasted chicken to see the cheerful smile slide off my face.

  I hated that I lied, but there wasn’t much Mom truly knew about me. I had always felt a strong desire to share my world with her, to talk like the friends we never were, but it’s always been this way. Every time I had a chance to open up to her, something prevented me from doing it. There was some kind of a wall inside me that restricted every attempt to relax and just talk heart to heart with my parents. Deep inside I knew that wall was important, and it first appeared when I most needed it. I wasn’t sure if I needed it now, though, but the old trick still worked. I was safe.

  We dined in the living room. I quickly finished my chicken drumstick and steamed vegetables, carried the empty plate to the kitchen, wished everyone a good night, and went up to my room. I closed the door, silencing my dad’s laughter and triumphant shouts. ‘We’ must have won.

  My room was bathed in silence. The beauty of the night amazed me so much that I didn’t turn on the lights, not willing to break its magic.

  I stretched my arms out and fell on the bed. I wondered what Max was doing right now? Was he thinking about me? Did he go to our place again to fight his insomnia? Maybe he was only eating his dinner while I imagined him romantically looking at the stars. I shook my head and smiled. It had been less than a few hours since we last saw each other, and I needed to distract myself with something so I wouldn’t go crazy thinking about him.

  Letting my hair down, I stepped into the shower. The hot water ran through my hair, down my face, and all over my body. It cleared my thoughts, made them vivid and simple. The dark lake, his marble skin, the jingling of his bracelet, his soft lips covering my neck with kisses…

  I took a deep breath.

  Maybe he was texting me right now and was waiting for my answer. I fought the urge to jump out of the shower and check my messages. I forced myself to wash my hair out slowly and passed the washcloth over my body. When I got out, I brushed my teeth, applied a night cream, and finally went back to my room, extremely proud that I wasn’t dying for him to call anymore.

  I sat down at the desk and turned my computer on. My hands ran across the keyboard as if greeting an old friend. I opened the document with No Name as the title.

  And then I started to write.

  I was writing so quickly it was like someone was chasing me. That chase became a revelation. The words flowed out of me in a torrent, hastily forming the sentences, paragraph by paragraph. I was writing about him. About my feelings for him. The inspiration hit me so hard that I couldn’t breathe from the sudden heat, yet my hands were shaking as if I were cold. A few minutes of nonstop writing, and the ringing of my phone finally got my attention.

  “Hey, Foxy!” Mel
’s cheerful voice sang into the phone.

  “Hello, Mel.”

  “Hello? Are you all right there?”

  I laughed. “Don’t mind me, I’m just in the literary mood.”

  “Hold on. Are you saying…”

  “That’s right. I started writing again.”

  “Jeez, Foxy!” Mel’s happy cry almost deafened me. “That’s awesome! Am I interrupting?”

  “I’m already done. Thanks for your support, though.”

  “Support? I’m floating around on cloud nine here! You’re doing what you were born to do!” After a little pause, she added, “Is it about Max?”

  I laughed. “Yes. And about you.”

  “Oh! What about me?”

  “Just describing what a dummy you are.”

  “Lana!” Mel cried angrily, trying not to laugh at the same time.

  “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” I giggled.

  “Sure you couldn’t,” she said with a sniff. “But hey, let me ask you this—and I’m expecting the truthful answer—did you see Max today?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “Gotcha! Did you guys kiss?”

  “How could you possibly—”

  Mel’s laughter interrupted me. “Easy as pie. What else would make you want to write? So, you’re officially together?”

  “I guess we are,” I murmured.

  “Congrats, sister! And one more question. I just have to ask. Did you guys already have sex?”

  The phone nearly fell out of my hand. “Mel!” I screeched.

  “I’m sorry, but since you just, you know, grabbed the bull by the horns,” she said, but hearing the dead silence from my side swiftly changed her tone. “You’re so cute when you’re angry. I’m actually happy for you. And for him, though. You guys were made for each other.”

  “You really think so?” I was too easily seduced by her compliment.

  “Of course I do! My Foxy is in love!” she purred like a cat who drank a whole bowl of warm milk.

  “Thanks, Mel. It’s just so…”

  “Exciting?”

  “Disturbing.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. You’ll get used to it.”

  Mel remained silent for a while but then exclaimed, “Damn it! I forgot the reason I called you in the first place! Remember those guys who own the bar we hung out in? They’re going to perform! Everybody is invited. What do you say?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “And who is the dummy now? Don’t screw me up like this. It’ll be fun!”

  “I’ll ask Max. If he’s in, then I’m in too. Deal?”

  “Deal. The show is on Sunday. If you don’t know, that’s—”

  “In two days. Yes, I know.”

  “Two days! All right, Foxy, it’s time for me to meet my bed. It misses me so much that I can’t keep it waiting for me any longer. Goodnight, my brand-new sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Mel.”

  I put my phone down. The message icon had one notification. My heart skipped a beat and started to race with a vengeance.

  Will you read to me?

  I put the phone up to my ear again. It was still warm from talking to Mel. I’d never been on the phone for so long in my life.

  “Where were we?” Max asked.

  I cleared my throat and started reading.

  As the night approached dawn, Max asked questions less and less. I finished a sentence and took a little pause to stretch my shoulders. Max remained quiet. There was a rustling on the phone and, amazed, I realized it was Max’s breathing. Smooth and soft. The insomniac sleeps after all. Careful not to disturb him with any sound, I put the book away and turned off the light. My eyes wearily closed. I put the phone closer to my ear and listened to Max, wondering what could possibly be going on in his dreams. Eventually, his quiet breathing lulled me to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next day, Max was busy at work while Mel was going crazy at some party. She was sending me photos of drunk people dancing and hugging and kissing all together. Despite Mel’s most touching pleas, I didn’t join her. The reason was simple: I was writing.

  Thoughts about writing harassed me so often that I almost couldn’t believe it when I finally started to put them down on paper. I was really writing. I always had to make a huge effort to tear myself from my own feelings that imbued my words, but this time I was able to release them easily and didn’t even think about the result. I was writing because I felt good, and I felt even better because I was able to write.

  The day flew by. I shut the computer down and closed my eyes. Every muscle in my body was tense from sitting there all day. I yawned and stretched my arms wide. My gaze fell upon the shelf on my wall. Approaching it, I swept up Leonardo into my arms. Black beady eyes stared at me accusingly.

  “Hey Leo.”

  Of course there was no answer. Only a strong imagination could endow black buttons with emotions and make a plush lobster disgruntled because I hadn’t paid proper attention to him. Or was it loneliness?

  Leonardo was the first and very last plush toy my parents gave me. Neither myself nor my brother were allowed stuffed toys since Mom was seriously allergic to dust and every plushy was a potential dust trap. Leo was the only exception. I treated him as a treasure, carrying him to school in my backpack and falling asleep every night with his red claws spread on my pillow.

  It was moments like that, when everything was going just right, that I returned to when I was struggling. The day I got Leonardo was one I would always remember. We were heading to the country.

  Dad was driving and Mom was in charge of the radio. She’d change stations every time an advertisement started playing. Jax and I used to fight so mercilessly that Dad would stop the car and wait for Mom to sit between us. It had always been that way… but not this time.

  The sun filters through the dusty windshield and shines on my face, blinding me for a moment. Dad presses a button on the steering wheel and the wipers start to squeak across the glass. The smell of lemon and mint fills the car. My brother frowns, rubbing his nose. Our parents turn around and look at him. Happy laughter fills the air—Jax sneezes four times in a row. I don’t find it funny, but my parents are laughing so I smile too.

  We’re at the gas station. Mom pulls my brother out of the car seat, dodging his restless legs that strive to kick her in the head. The door near me opens and I almost fall to the ground. Dad figured I also needed a little help. His outstretched hand waves in front of my face.

  “Lana, c’mon!”

  It’s cold outside. Dad holds my hand. His eyes are glued to Mom as Jaxen dangles from her arms. Jax laughs and throws his head back every time she tosses him into the air.

  In the market, my brother’s eyes light up. He wants to try everything. Mom holds him up to the candy rack then down next to the soda. He goes through shiny wrappers, holding them in his little hands with a serious look on his face. This is his ritual. Long ago, Mom realized that he wouldn’t cry for a bauble, but had to touch it. Otherwise, she was in a big trouble.

  Dad comes back to us with a can of chips. We’re on our way to the exit when my brother begins to huff and puff, waving both his hands at the toy box in the far corner. Mom quickens her pace. Dad gently stops her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let him explore,” he says, his voice soft and peaceful.

  They approach the box where tigers, lambs, and bunnies are piled high in a large heap. My brother almost grunts with pleasure, burying his hands in the box. He reaches for another toy and some shapeless red blob plops down on the floor. No one notices it except me. I pick it up. Red claws dangle lifelessly from my hand. It’s a lobster!

  My brother chooses a winner. A big white bear makes itself at home in his arms. My parents, tired of waiting, rush to the nearest cash register.

  I dust off the lobster’s tail carefully. His black button eyes stare at me as if he’s tired and wants nothing but to be left alone somewhere in the box bottom. I run my hand over his fee
lers.

  “Do you mind my company?” I whisper.

  Someone lays their hand on my shoulder. I turn around.

  “Leave this monster be,” Dad says, curling his lips. “Wouldn’t you rather that bunny? Or a bear like your brother?”

  I clutch the lobster with both my hands and murmur, “I need him.”

  Dad’s going to say something but Mom calls him, pointing at her watch. He nods, then takes the lobster from my hands, and walks over to Mom. I shift my glance to the lobster; his claws are squeezed between Dad’s fingers, the antennas swaying with each of Dad’s steps. I hurry to catch up with them and only when the lobster settles down in my arms do I allow myself to smile.

  It was so warm and comfortable on my bed with Leo at my side that I accidentally fell asleep. My phone started to vibrate. I woke up with a start, my throat dry and my head heavy. My hands fumbled for the phone under the pillows.

  Are you asleep?

  It was already midnight. A pained groan escaped my chest even though I was glad Max texted me.

  Nope.

  I woke you, didn’t I?

  I smiled. Kind of.

  I’m sorry. Guess I forgot people usually sleep at night.

  Seems like we have only two options: I’ll either force you to sleep or insomnia will have us both.

  Can we go along with the second option for just one more night?

  What do you mean?

  Look out the window.

  I jumped to my feet and approached the window. Max was outside, sitting on the grass under the streetlight. He must have seen the smile on my face and smiled widely in return.

  A dull creaking sound came from my parents’ bedroom. Someone was getting up from bed. I quickly grabbed my phone.

  Don’t stay near the streetlight. My parents might see you.

  I got dressed and slipped into the hallway, shutting the door behind me silently. Everything remained quiet. In complete darkness, my hands felt along the wall until I reached the bathroom. I put a towel in the sink so the running water would make less sound, and washed my face. The cold water refreshed me. I was on my way to my room when the creaking noise sounded again, followed this time by a muffled murmuring. My dad’s voice. I froze on the spot, holding my breath and involuntarily listening.