by Box Set
* * *
His mom was never home then, and
I’ve kissed him in his kitchen, and
His living room, and
His basement.
* * *
But I know something I’m scared to vocalize:
I’m not ready to kiss him yet.
* * *
“Nothing funny,” I say as
He closes the front door behind me.
He only smiles in return, but
Ushers me into the living room, where
He collapses onto the couch.
* * *
His house is clean, which
Means he got out the vacuum and
Sprayed the air freshener.
I know his mom works too much for her to have done it.
* * *
I’m more impressed by this fact than
That he’s so good-looking, and
So calm, and
So gentle with me.
* * *
“What’s for dinner?” I ask
As I perch next to him on the couch.
* * *
“I think you adore pizza,” he says,
“And it just so happens that I do too.”
He grins at me and
Opens his arm for me to settle into his side.
* * *
In my mind,
I see the shot I took of him that
First day at my house,
On my couch.
He had his arm up to
Claim the girl who would be sitting next to him.
* * *
I realize now that I’d hoped
To be that girl, so
I slide into the space,
Flashing him a smile as his
Hand settles on my shoulder.
“So how is homeschool,
Really?”
* * *
I shrug.
“It’s okay, I guess.
My grandma is intense sometimes, but
It’s better than Copper Hills.”
* * *
“I miss you there,” he says quietly,
Dipping his head closer to mine.
* * *
I almost lean into him before
I remember that I’m scared out of my mind.
I can’t make out with him on his couch,
Not on the first date,
Not even if he stirs the fire in my core.
* * *
I swallow to quiet the storm of bees in
My chest.
“There are some things I miss about Copper Hills,” I say.
“But mostly I’m glad I don’t have to go there and
Remember things I’d rather forget.”
* * *
“Harris hasn’t come back,” Trevor says,
Like that means everyone won’t stare, or
Whisper behind my back, or
Invent new rumors to spread.
* * *
“I don’t want to talk about Harris,” I say.
* * *
“How’s the portfolio coming?”
He guides me closer to his side.
* * *
I sigh. “Good, I think.
You know I’m not objective about my own work.
I think it all sucks.”
* * *
He laughs deep in his throat,
A sound that urges the fire to seethe under
My skin.
* * *
Before he can say anything else,
The doorbell rings.
I sigh with relief as he gets up,
Opens the door, and
Pays the pizza delivery guy.
* * *
Saved by the bell.
126
“HEY, MOM.”
I follow Rose into the Youngbloods and
Drop our bag by the front door.
* * *
Mom frowns at it for a moment.
“I wish you wouldn’t pack a bag.
We have everything you need here.”
* * *
“I need my…stuff,”
Rose says,
Glancing at me.
She means her stuffed Snoopy, but
She doesn’t want to tell Mom that.
* * *
“And I need makeup,” I say.
* * *
Mom humphs and
Asks Rose about the spelling bee before
Badgering me about the photography contest.
“Don’t you need to turn it in soon?”
* * *
“I have a few more weeks,” I say.
I don’t say that it’s not ready, though
I’ve been editing and re-editing
The photos for the past two weeks.
* * *
“How close are you?” she asks,
Going right to the question I don’t want to answer.
* * *
“I need one more picture,” I tell her and
That’s totally true.
* * *
I have four of Trevor:
The one of him on my couch,
Claiming that space next to him.
The one of him at the dock,
Fishing.
The one of him in the dilapidated house,
Leaning against that kitchen table with
That smirk on his face.
And the one of him in the dark,
Really only a profile,
A shadow with
Secrets and
Intrigue.
* * *
I have one of Rose when
She’s first glancing up from fixing her belt.
I absolutely love that photo though
I haven’t told anyone that truth yet,
Not even Trevor.
* * *
I have the one of Dad when
He came to my bedroom and
Showed his concern.
In the picture,
He doesn’t look mad or
Annoyed, but
Parental and
Distinguished.
* * *
I have the one of Gramma-Linda
Admiring the conversation between
The trees and the sky.
* * *
My eighth picture turned out to be of
Jacey.
I’d decided to include a photo of
Everyone that’s important to me.
* * *
Trevor,
Dad,
Rose,
Gramma-Linda,
Jacey, and
…
* * *
Mom.
127
“I WANT YOU TO BE IN THE PORTFOLIO.”
I don’t dare look at her to
Gauge her reaction.
* * *
The silence says it all.
128
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO CHANGE A THING.”
* * *
She’s now patting her hair and
Has slicked on a pound of lipstick.
* * *
“Mom, seriously,” I say.
“I don’t want you to look all made up;
I just want you to look like you.”
* * *
When she tries to change her clothes,
I put my foot down.
“No, you’re going to ruin it.”
* * *
“Did you bring your camera?”
* * *
I hold up my camera, which
I retrieved from my car ten minutes ago.
She probably didn’t notice because
She was freaking over her chipped toenail polish.
* * *
“Where do you want to take it?”
She sounds nervous, which
Sort of surprises me.
* * *
Mom is always perfectly composed,
Both in attitude and physical appearance.
The only other time I’ve seen her act flust
ered
Was when she finally came clean about her affair.
* * *
Then, I heard her voice shake with emotion;
I saw her makeup run down her face;
Felt the reverberations of her anger as she slammed the front door and
Never came home again.
129
“MOM, SERIOUSLY. STOP.”
I like to capture people in their natural element,
Doing what they’d do if no one was watching, and
Mom finger-combing her hair and
Brushing on five pounds of blush is
Totally not natural.
* * *
“Where do you want to sit?”
I glance around,
Suddenly realizing that I don’t quite know what
My mom likes to do in her free time.
* * *
A pang of sadness sings through me,
Reminding me that the wall between us,
Though crumbling,
Is still there.
* * *
“How about the sun room?” I suggest.
“You love reading by the big windows.”
Right? I think, but
Don’t vocalize.
* * *
She smiles, and
I wish I had my camera ready so
I could seize the vulnerability in her eyes and
Never let it go.
* * *
I take several shots as Mom settles into
An overstuffed recliner.
* * *
Her favorite chair?
* * *
“I’m not ready,” she complains.
* * *
“Just testing the light,” I tell her though
I want to catch her unaware, before
She paints over the real emotion and
Hides who she really is.
* * *
I’ve seen her do that lots of times, and
I’ve learned to watch her in those pinches of time so
I can find out how she really feels.
* * *
I move around the room,
Snapping shots to “test the light,” and
Find the best position.
* * *
The windows are black, and
I like the contrast of them against
The brightness of my mom.
* * *
I settle for a position that allows me to get
That darkness on my right and
The halo around my mom.
* * *
She’s got her feet tucked beneath her, and
If she had a cup of coffee,
The image would be perfect.
* * *
“Hold that pose.”
I dash back to the kitchen.
I grab the cup but
Leave the liquid behind.
No one will know the difference anyway.
* * *
“Pretend.” I hand her the cup.
She looks at me blankly, and
I raise the camera to
Fire off as many shots as I can get before
She wipes the confusion away.
* * *
I re-position myself near the door and
Instruct Mom to look out the window
Like she’s hoping to see a comet fall from the sky.
* * *
Click, click, click.
I don’t know what I’ve got, but
Looking at my mom,
I think it’s something good.
130
“ONLY NINE PHOTOS?”
Trevor says over the line.
It’s Monday night, and
He left twenty minutes ago only
To call me as soon as he got home.
* * *
“Only nine,” I say, “And
You’re not in every one, so
You should be happy about that.”
* * *
“I was supposed to be in every picture.”
His amused voice makes me smile.
“Are you saying you’re breaking our deal?”
* * *
“Shattering it,” I say.
* * *
“Who else is in the portfolio?”
He sounds too interested, and
I know he’s going to ask to see the photos before
We hang up.
* * *
“Rose,
Gramma-Linda,
Jacey,
My dad, and
My mom.”
* * *
“That’s five,” he says.
* * *
“All the people I care most about,” I say,
Barely above a whisper.
I’ve thought such a thing before—
Thought I care about Trevor a lot—
But I’ve never said it out loud.
* * *
It’s true, I think.
I do care about him.
A lot.
Maybe you could kiss him soon—
* * *
“And there’s four of me,” he says,
Interrupting my almost spiraling thoughts.
“Which totally means you care about me four times as much.”
* * *
“More than Rose?” I tease,
Wishing my heart didn’t try to
Beat out of my chest at the
Sound of his sexy chuckle,
Wishing I wasn’t thinking of
Kissing him next time I saw him.
* * *
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
Thankfully, my voice doesn’t betray
My thoughts,
My rippling pulse,
My desire to kiss him.
* * *
“Oh, it’s possible,” he says.
“How’d the picture of your mom turn out?”
* * *
“Good,” I hedge,
My emotions quieting.
“The contrast is perfect, but
I might have to crop it so
It’s the right aspect ratio.”
* * *
“When can I see them?”
* * *
“When I submit them,” I say,
“So I can’t work on them anymore, and
All you’ll be able to tell me is how awesome they are.”
* * *
“I already know they’re awesome.”
131
“WHO SHOULD BE IN THE TENTH PICTURE?”
I lean away from the computer,
Already knowing the answer in
My heart, but
Not wanting to admit it out loud.
132
“I’M NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM,”
I tell Jacey that weekend.
“So we had a nice dinner at his house.
His mom was there, and
He ordered pizza.
It’s not like he baked me anything.”
* * *
She swirls her straw and
Won’t look at me.
“Any kissing?”
* * *
“No,” I say,
Clearing my throat.
“This is lame, but…
I’m afraid.”
* * *
Her eyes finally meet mine.
“Of what?
You’ve kissed him before.”
* * *
“Of falling in love with him,” I whisper.
133
“THAT’S STUPID,”
Jacey says.
* * *
“Falling hurts,” I say, “And
What if he doesn’t fall with me?”
I shake my head,
Aware that I sound ridiculous.
* * *
I can’t help remembering how Harris had said,
“I am in love with you,” and how
I hadn’t understood it.
* * *
I’m still not sure I do, but
With Trevor,
At least I understand
Why people use the word falling
To describe love.
* * *
Falling is wild, and
Uncontrollable, and
Utterly breathtaking.
* * *
I can’t change how I feel about Trevor, even
Though I’ve tried for a long time.
