“No, I’m glad you let me know you’re here. Don’t think that way.”
He nodded, but I could see that he wasn’t convinced. He lowered his eyes. I leaned forward and put my hand on his. When he raised his gaze so that his eyes met mine, I clearly saw all of the pain he was suffering. It wasn’t hard to understand how much he longed for a normal life. Perhaps this was why he was so reluctant to meet others our age or become friends with those who might be his schoolmates. Their much calmer, settled world would constantly remind him of how difficult his own was and how much he would be unable to share.
“I hate to see you so sad, Brayden.”
His fingers danced over my hand, and then he looked up and smiled. “I don’t think I could remain depressed around you too long, Amber. You wouldn’t let it be. I bet your mother is the same way.”
“Yes, she is.”
“You’re very lucky.”
“I’m lucky I met you,” I said. His eyes seemed to find their light again. He gazed at me, and for a moment, in the dim light, his eyes appeared to be on fire.
Slowly, almost by an inch at a time, he brought his lips to mine.
It was a soft but long kiss. I felt all sorts of doors unlock within me. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I shifted so that I could fall into his waiting arms. He embraced me, and we lay back against his sleeping bag. He glanced at it. My eyes followed his.
“It’s kind of cozy in there,” he said. “Even undressed.”
“I can’t think of any other way,” I told him.
14
A Real Wonderland
Would it make any sense to say we made love so softly, so gently and easily, that it didn’t feel as if I had crossed any line or broken through any barrier? It was as if I was making love the way I had hoped and imagined it would be, the lovemaking of dreams, without any guilt or regret. I have heard other girls talk about their fears of becoming pregnant because of their loss of control or passion. There’s that terrible time of waiting and praying for their next period, an anticipation almost like the anticipation of a patient waiting for results of a biopsy. Just witnessing that anxiety is enough for some girls to become chaste until they’re married.
But then there are those girls who admit to making love out of fear that if they didn’t, they’d lose their boyfriends, and for them, that was a major trauma. Some even think it makes them superior to their friends. They wear their loss of virginity like a badge. Most of the reasons I heard for their lovemaking sounded wrong to me. I felt above all that.
Ordinarily, I would have thought that in these great exploratory moments, I should be making more discoveries about the boy, but for me, it was as if I had just found my own body. Pleasurable sensations came to me from places I had least expected. No part of me was dull or insensitive. No matter where his lips met my skin, something electric, warm, and thrilling traveled to every other part of me. Even my fingers tingled.
I felt my whole body soften in his arms. It was a total surrender, a willing surrender. I was eager to see what other places on my body would tingle and awaken. The woman I often pictured curled up inside me like some mature fetus awoke and quickly unfolded throughout, slipping under my breasts, around my heart, and down through my thighs, even to my toes.
My breasts seemed to blossom under his touch, his lips. As small as our space was inside his sleeping bag, I never felt uncomfortable for a single moment. My whole body had turned into soft clay to be molded and shaped so it would fit neatly against his, but what surely made it more wonderful was the way we moved together as if we had truly become one body, every part of me anticipating every part of him.
Would it always be like this? How could any of my far more sexually active friends experience anything like I was experiencing? From what I heard them say, their sex seemed purely selfish, each of them caring only for what satisfaction he or she could draw out of the other. I thought of them as being crude and boisterous lovers who rushed in and out of pockets of pleasure, barely recalling where they had been or why. For them, sex was nothing more than a good piece of chocolate.
Making love the way Brayden and I were making love enlarged and expanded all of our senses. I knew that afterward, everything I thought was beautiful would be more beautiful. I would look forward to every morning more than I ever had, and I would even be more anxious to go to sleep, knowing that my thoughts and my dreams would be about Brayden, about us, about these moments. Everything, in fact, would have more importance to me. I would cherish time itself as I had never cherished it before, because every hour and every minute I could devote to our being together would suddenly be more valuable to me.
Of course, I thought that our lovemaking was soothing and comforting for Brayden, too, perhaps even more so than for me because of what he was experiencing and maybe because of what his life had been like until now, too. I felt his need, his hunger for something warm and bright in the midst of all this cold, depressing darkness that otherwise surrounded him. I had no way of really knowing for sure, of course, but something told me this was the first time it had been special for him.
Certainly, nothing happened that would telegraph any inexperience. He didn’t fumble or grope like someone unsure of himself, but it was, as my father would say, like realizing that you have come upon an extraordinary, special jewel almost lost among very ordinary semiprecious stones. I felt cherished in his arms. He clung to me with a desperation that told me how much he needed me beside him. How lonely and lost he must feel, I thought, even as we lay quietly beside each other afterward, neither moving for fear that we would shatter the fragile bubble that, for the moment at least, gave us shelter from the ugliness and the sadness that visited too often.
Both he and I were so content that it was easy to fall asleep in each other’s arms. The call of an owl, perhaps sitting on the roof of the cabin, which it probably had done many times before, woke me. The sound echoed in the small room. For a few moments, I didn’t know where I was. The battery in the lantern was probably losing power, because the illumination it threw had dwindled to the point where I could just barely make out the door. My stirring woke Brayden.
“What time is it?” I whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said. Before he could utter it, I put my fingers on his lips.
“Don’t say it. It’s not a stream for me at the moment.”
I slipped out of the sleeping bag and brought my wrist closer to the illumination to read my watch.
“Oh, no! I’ve been gone nearly two hours. My parents will be very worried. They’re going to want to know why.”
“It’s better if you don’t tell them about me,” he said. “For now, okay?”
“You’re definitely not returning to the house before you go back to the clinic?” I asked as I hurriedly dressed.
He got out of the sleeping bag and began to dress, too. “Yes, definitely not.”
“I’m worried about you staying here that long.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“How will you know when to go back?”
“I’ll know,” he said. “Remember, I have the cell phone.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’ll walk you most of the way home.”
“Thanks.”
I slipped on my shoes and stood up. When he opened the door, the owl flew off the roof and swooped down in front of us before flying into the darkness. I thought it looked as large as a hawk and said so.
“No, it was an owl. They can get pretty big, especially when they spread their wings. I call them the guardians of the night. That’s why he was on the cabin roof. He was watching over us.”
He stepped back for me to go out of the cabin, and we headed across the small clearing back to the path we had followed to get there. It did seem darker than it had been. There was more cloud cover blocking out the starlight, but having less light didn’t seem to bother him. He moved just as quickly, just as sure of himself. In no time, we were out of the woods and crossing the field that
would take us back to the road I would follow home.
“I know you don’t like lying to your parents,” he said. “I’m sorry I asked you to.”
“It’s all right. I won’t lie so much as be vague.”
He laughed. “Yes, we were vague.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Of course.” He paused. “It’ll be fine from here,” he said when we reached the road. He looked up it as if he never wanted to go back to his house, even get too close to it. Was it because that was where his mother almost died?
“Okay. I’ll make some sandwiches for lunch tomorrow and bring something better to drink.”
“Another picnic at the lake for you?”
“Yes, but this one will have a better outcome,” I said.
“Will it?” he asked, suddenly sounding pessimistic and depressed again.
“It will if I have anything to do with it,” I replied. “Besides, it already has.” That brought back a smile to his face.
He leaned forward, and I did, too, so that our lips, like two messengers of hope, would seal their optimism with a kiss. I wanted it to last longer, but I was really afraid that my parents were freaking out.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night.”
I started away and stopped.
“How will I know if you had to return to the clinic before I get to the cabin?”
“I’ll call you. I have your number, remember?” he said.
“Oh, right.”
“Stop worrying about everything, and get going. And be sure to be careful when you return to the lake tomorrow. It would be better if no one saw you.”
“Right. I will.”
I hurried up the street but paused once to look back. He was already gone. Moments later, I stepped up onto my front porch, took a deep breath, and opened the door. They didn’t pounce, but they were both standing in the living-room doorway, looking very upset.
“Where were you, Amber?” Dad asked first. “Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize the time.”
“Where were you all this time?” Mom asked, a little more strongly.
“I went to that place on the lake I told you about. You know, with all the birds. The small lagoon.”
“By yourself?” Dad asked.
“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie. I had gone there by myself.
“And you’ve been there all this time?” Mom asked.
“Yes. I went there to enjoy nature and think, and I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
“You fell asleep?” Dad asked, his voice awash in incredulity.
I nodded. That wasn’t a lie, either.
“Didn’t you realize how we would worry?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “As soon as I woke up and realized what time it was and how long I had been gone, I rushed back.”
They just stared at me. I was wondering myself when was the last time I had done anything that gave them even half as much displeasure and disappointment. I had to go back years, to the time when I had let one of my classmates talk me into going for a ride with her brother who didn’t have a driver’s license, just a driver’s permit. He wasn’t old enough to have his own license yet, but he took sneak rides with their mother’s car when she was away with friends or too busy with something else to realize. He got pulled over when he was speeding, and we were all reported. I really thought he was legal. I didn’t understand, but that wasn’t an excuse that would get me out of trouble. My parents made it clear that ignorance of the law was a person’s own fault. I think I was more upset about getting them upset than they were. They never mentioned it again, but I had a feeling they were both thinking about it at the moment, just the way you might recall an old wound when a new one comes.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could add again.
“Just go up to bed, Amber. I’ll see about getting you a watch with an alarm on it,” Dad said, half-kidding. Mom smirked at him, and he shrugged. “Can’t hurt to have one.”
“Night,” I said, and hurried to the stairway, happy that I didn’t have to explain too much more and actually distort and lie. When I stepped into my room, I let out a hot, heavy breath, and then I smiled with relief. I could go to bed thinking mostly about Brayden and our time together, and I could dream of what our day would be tomorrow and maybe even the day after tomorrow. Was I being selfish, thinking only about our pleasure together and not his mother? Was I guilty of hoping that she would stay in the hospital a little longer perhaps, with little reason for him to visit?
At first, when he told me he wanted to stay at the lake and sleep in that old cabin, I thought it was very strange and something he couldn’t do for long, but now, after the time we had spent together, that old cabin, the woods, and the wonderful lake were something magical. I had feared that, unlike Alice, I wasn’t falling into a Wonderland but into a nightmare. Now I felt as if I had indeed fallen into a real Wonderland, a Wonderland of our own making, filled with love and beauty, guardian owls, warm shadows, and brilliant stars.
I got into bed quickly. I heard my parents go to bed. Guilt did surge through me. After all, they had to get up to work. They didn’t need to be put through tension and worry, which I knew they would both carry into their sleep. I have to be more careful, I told myself. I will. This won’t happen again. I’ll find a way to make it up to them. Comforted with the thought, I closed my eyes and almost instantly saw Brayden standing there, that promise and love making his eyes glitter like candles lit by the starlight.
I rose before my parents in the morning and rushed down to prepare breakfast for them. My mother gave me a look that told me she knew exactly what I was up to, some penance. Dad pretended to be surprised, but he knew, too. I apologized again for what I had done the night before, and they were soon back to their old selves, talking about the business and the plans Dad was pushing for expansion. I offered to go to work, but again, Mom insisted that I enjoy my time off.
“Find someone to do something with,” she ordered. “For yourself,” she added as they were preparing to leave.
I said I would. If she only knew, I thought, and followed them to the door.
My mother paused to look at Brayden’s house. “Let me know when they’re back. I really want to do something for that boy,” she said.
“Okay.”
She continued to hesitate, her gaze still on the house. “Have any of the other kids in town met him yet?”
“Not yet. Too much happened before he could get involved in anything.”
She nodded. “Well, you can’t solve everyone’s problems, Amber. Think a little more about yourself.”
“I will.”
I watched them walk away. I could tell from the way they stayed close as they walked that they were talking about me. They had real worries about my future, about whether I was really enjoying my teenage years. I wasn’t concerned anymore. Soon, I thought, they’ll meet Brayden, and they’ll see that I’m quite normal and how special he really is.
I went up to shower and dress and then have some breakfast myself. This time, when the phone rang later in the morning, I thought it could very well be Brayden. He had a cell phone, and I did give him my number. I was disappointed to hear a different familiar voice.
“Yes, Ellie, what’s up?” I said.
“Nothing special for me, but I know exactly what you’re up to,” she began.
“What?”
“You’re seeing your neighbor, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, afraid that we had been spotted last night. Perhaps Angie Littlefield had looked out her window and seen us passing between her house and the Knottses’ house when he walked me back to the road. But that wasn’t it.
“I was thinking about everything and what would make you turn off Shayne Allan after having made love with him in his house and came up with it. I couldn’t imagine any other reason. So, when can I meet this new guy? I’ll be ho
nest about him. I promise. If he’s better-looking than Shayne or in any way a better catch, I’ll tell you. I know you think I’m so infatuated with Shayne that I put every other boy down, but—”
“That’s not it,” I said quickly. Suddenly, Brayden’s advice made more sense to me. “So you’re convinced that I made love with Shayne?”
“C’mon, Amber. You’re talking to me, not some of those empty heads we call our friends.”
I paused and then sighed loudly enough to be heard over the phone. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but try to keep it to yourself. It’s not a nice topic for discussion.”
“Sure. What?” she asked, now very excited.
“I did make love with him, but it was a disaster, and not because of me.”
“What? Why? I mean, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Well, as you would expect, I was looking for a very special time.”
“Yes, of course. So?”
“There’s no nice way to put this. He underperformed. You know what that means?”
She was silent a moment. Did she know? “Not exactly,” she admitted.
“Haven’t you heard of premature ejaculation?”
“What?” If she had been lying down, she surely had popped up, and if she had been sitting, she was standing now.
“We had hardly gotten started. Frankly, it makes a lot of sense when you think about him. He’s so into himself that he’s interested only in his own pleasure. I was, however, quite surprised to see how unsophisticated he was when it came to sex. I mean, he’s done quite a good public-relations job on all of us. You won’t believe this, I know, but to me, it was as if he was doing it for the first time, not me.”
“You’re right. I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it. When I complained, I saw how his whole personality and attitude, especially toward me, changed. Yes, he isn’t interested in seeing me anymore, but not for the reasons you thought. He’s afraid I’ll talk about him. I was going to let it go,” I continued, now enjoying the roll I was on, “but when his bratty sister started to spread all those stories about me, I thought, okay, if this is how it’s going to be, fine.” I paused to let it all sink into her brain like a rock sinking in mud. “You know, now that I think more about it, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he put her up to it so I would be too embarrassed to talk about what really happened. You know, like a shot across the bow of an enemy ship or the ship of a neutral nation to force them to stop and be inspected. My dad told me that happens often in wars. Well, Shayne and his sister have declared a love war against me. What do you think?”
Into the Darkness Page 22
