by C. S. Moore
“I’m fine. It was just a dream. That wasn’t even the worst part,” I said, thinking of Jaron’s torment.
“What was?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm myself. It was only a dream. “Jaron was trying to fight the sharks off of me but couldn’t, and then they got him too.” My heart convulsed painfully at the thought.
“So it wasn’t like your other nightmare with the hissing, or anything like that creepy guy who followed you last week?”
“Uh, no. Why?” I asked in confusion.
“No reason, so Jaron protected you, or tried to in this dream?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, blinking the sleep from my eyes. “And we both got ‘death by shark’ out of the deal.” I yawned. “I’m going to go take a bath.”
“All right. Is Jaron picking you up again today?” she asked while straightening my comforter.
“Yep.” I opened the double doors leading into my bathroom.
“Good, I still have to finish Clarissa’s gown and take it up to her. I‘ll see you after school.”
I turned the knobs on my claw foot tub until the water was steaming. I usually didn’t take a bath in the morning because I didn’t have time to soak, but I might as well make a good thing out of having a nightmare wake me up at six in the morning.
The tile was cold on my feet as I searched under the sink for the right bubble bath soap. I was feeling like jasmine was what the doctor ordered. Pouring the silky liquid into the water, I watched as the suds rose to the top. The water was so inviting, I didn’t wait for it to be full before I gingerly lowered myself in. It was so hot it stung, but just for a moment. When the water was almost overflowing, I turned the knobs off with my toes and submerged myself. Watching the world from this side of the water was something I had enjoyed since I was a kid, Sylvia would ask me if I’d ‘gone through the looking glass again’ every time I’d resurface from a bath or the pool. She was teasing but it felt like that, like stepping into another world. I popped out of the water, thinking I had heard something, but sound travels funny in water and I couldn’t be sure.
“Maribel!” Sylvia was shouting from the bathroom door.
“What?” I asked, rubbing the water out of my eyes.
“Jaron is here.”
“What! What time is it?” I asked, jumping out of the tub and drowning the tiled floor.
“It’s eight o’clock, Mari, get a move on or you’ll both be late.”
When I heard Sylvia exit my room, I made a mad dash to my closet, towel trailing behind me. After slipping on my underwear, I threw on the first thing within reach and ran back out. I didn’t have time to do anything but brush my teeth and hair. Before I opened my door to go downstairs, I looked at the clock and cringed. It was eight ten. School started in nine minutes. Time always eluded me, nothing new there, but I really didn’t want to make Jaron late.
“I’m here!” I announced, clambering down the stairs two at a time.
“Yes, you are.” Jaron laughed. “No wonder you didn’t mind getting rained on yesterday. Apparently wet hair is a regular style for you.”
I was about to tell him that I thought he liked wet hair since the last time I wore it around him ended in a make-out session, but what with Sylvia and Dylan being right there, I let the witty come back die on my tongue.
“Let’s go!” I sped walked to the door and waved to my aunt and uncle. “Bye!”
“Come home after school. You need to get ready for Clarissa’s,” Sylvia reminded me as I shut the door.
As soon as the door shut, I turned to face Jaron. My dream still had me freaked out and I looked him over.
“What are you—”
I cut him off in a bear hug. The nightmare was so vivid and seeing him swallowed up by the water was so much worse than seeing myself picked clean by sharks. Whatever his secrets were, I didn’t care.
“Are you all right? You’re shaking,” he said, pulling me back so he could see my face.
“Sorry, I just had a nightmare and… I’m just glad you’re all right.”
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I guess it’s my fault for not explaining why I looked so shaken yesterday…” He opened the door for me and muttered a curse.
I got into the car and waited for him to join me. “Why are you upset?”
“Why am I upset?” He laughed. “Maybe because the last thing in the world you should be doing is worry about me… I don’t deserve your concern.” He twisted the key in the ignition and pulled down the driveway.
“Why? Why do you think that you don’t deserve my concern, Jaron?”
“Because I’m not good enough for you, Maribel. You’re like this beacon of light that draws everything in a two hundred mile radius to you… the good and the bad.”
“And you think that you’re the bad?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s not that I would ever… I’d rather die than bring you anything but happiness,” he said.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes, it’s a bad thing. People I love have a terrible habit of—” He stopped short and turned to me, his eyes wide as a blush spread up his cheek.
Love? Had he said that in reference to me? I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand.
“Let me just say something, please. I don’t know if it’s safe for me to be with you.”
My heart jumped to my throat.
“But I don’t know that you would be any safer if I left.”
What was he talking about? “I don’t know what you mean, Jaron.”
He looked at me; his eyes softened. “I know you don’t. I just want you to make a decision. If you tell me to go, I will go,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“And if I tell you to stay?” I asked in the strongest voice I could manage with my heart attempting to choke me.
“You could get hurt. If I can’t… find a way out, you could die.” He said it with such certainty that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “You need to understand that I would never ever harm you, but there are people out there—" Cough. "—that—" Cough, cough.” His eyes teared up as he tried to fight off the coughing fit.
“What people? Is someone trying to hurt you?” I asked.
He cleared his throat a few times. “I can’t tell you a lot of things, Maribel. I wish I could. And I understand if you want me to leave, never to trouble you again—”
“No!” I shouted. He snapped his head over to me, I might have said it louder than I meant to, but what did he expect? The idea of Jaron leaving was too painful to continue talking about. “No don’t go. Whatever is going on with you, we can work out together. Just stay, tell me you’ll stay.”
He was quiet as we turned into the parking lot and found a space to slide in to. When the car was still he turned his gaze to me. “As long as you want me and it’s what’s best for you—”
“And why can’t I decide what’s best for me for once in my life?”
He slammed his fists into the steering wheel. “Because you can’t know what’s best when you don’t know what’s out there!”
“Well if you told me, I’d know. Why can’t you drop the cloak and dagger and just be honest?” Tears pooled up as my frustration boiled over.
He dropped his head and sighed then grabbed my hand and put it to his cheek. “There are so many different reasons why I can’t tell you what’s happening and what’s out there, but I can tell you one reason… the only one that I’m able to say.” He looked up to meet my eyes. “I don’t really know what’s going on either.”
“So we’re in the same boat, then?” My dream popped into my head with complete clarity and I shuddered.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling me into his arms.
The smell of him had my head spinning, but I stayed on track. “Okay, you can’t tell me what’s going on with you, or what’s going on out there, so tell me, what’s going on here?” I asked, pointing between
us.
“The only bit of good that’s left in my world,” he said, throwing his head back. “My past is full of dark memories, things that shouldn’t exist outside of an Edgar Allen Poe story… and you come along and somehow my past doesn’t define me anymore. You do. I can feel something besides anger again, and I’m never letting go of whatever you have breathed into my life.”
If I was breathing something into his life, it was no wonder I was always left breathless around him.
He pulled back to look at me.
What he had said was true for me too. I wasn‘t ever angry and didn‘t have memories that were emo poetry fodder, but he made me feel more alive than I had ever felt. And I wasn’t about to let it go, even if it was crazy and dangerous. If the first chance I ever took in life was on him, I knew I’d never regret it. Whatever the outcome, whatever the price I had to pay, it was worth giving him.
“So does that mean you’ll stay?”
Dimples marked his cheeks when he smiled, making me feel like he could read my emotions like a book. “For now, my sweet Maribel… now let’s get to class, shall we?”
12
After school, Jaron raced me up to Clarissa’s. She had sent me a pretty weird text message asking me to come up to her place. I always left my cell in my locker, because it was too easy to text her all day if I didn’t, so I didn’t get the messages until after school, and I felt awful for keeping her waiting. She didn’t say what was wrong, but I could tell it was something major. I could feel my nerves mirrored in Jaron, but he tried to calm me anyway.
“Maribel, I’m sure it’s nothing. She is probably freaking out about flower arrangements or something,” he said.
“No, Clarissa isn’t like that. She wouldn’t be a debutantzilla.”
Clarissa wouldn’t care if the flowers weren’t perfect, or if anything else could go wrong with a debutant ball, she wouldn’t freak, she’d be happy.
We pulled into the estate and I tried to calm myself, the rolling green lawn had white tents set up, large flowers were displayed on round tables scattered about, and a large stage had instruments and speakers awaiting a band. Everything was as it should be.
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Everything is fine,” he reassured me.
We stopped in front of the newly built brick mansion, and I hopped out of the car, not waiting for Jaron to open the door for me. He caught up to me before I rang the doorbell. I stood waiting for a moment. Usually, Hailey, the housekeeper, had the door open within a few seconds. I rang the doorbell again. Maybe they were busy getting things ready. The large walnut door swung inward, and I tried to hide my surprise. Clarissa’s mom had opened the door. She never opened the door. She was wearing a long white silk robe and had a glass filled with what I thought at first to be V-8. But after smelling the strong scent of vodka that hung around her, guessed it was more likely a Bloody Mary.
“Is Clarissa here?” I asked tentatively.
The older woman swayed in place, tucking her ashy blond hair behind her ear before fixing a glare on me. “Well, if she was anywhere but here you’d know, since she only ever goes to your house.” She rolled her eyes. “Like you and Boris are that great.” she laughed.
Clarissa’s mom was always rude and a little drunk, but I’d never seen her so much of both.
“Okay, can I come in?” I tried to hide the annoyance and distaste in my voice.
“She’s upstairs,” she said before walking away.
I looked sideways at Jaron, hoping he wasn’t the judgmental type. Clarissa couldn’t choose her family. We stepped through the large door and closed it behind us. The grand entrance was true to its name and two round staircases opened into a half moon to greet guests. I hurried up the right staircase, wanting to put distance between us and the Bloody Mary queen. The lavish house was over the top decorated in reds and golds, trying to put off a regal vibe, but I thought it was too much.
When I reached the top of the stairs and was out of earshot, I whispered to Jaron, “Listen, I know how bad she is, but don’t bring it up to Clarissa.”
“Why would I?” he asked.
“You two seem to like teasing each other and—”
He interrupted. “I only tease about things that are funny. Her mother certainly isn’t.” His words were clipped, and I could tell that I had upset him.
“I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt her feelings on purpose. She's just really sensitive about her mom.” I brushed his arm softly, hoping to be forgiven. His dark eyes softened, and I knew I was off the hook.
Stopping in front of Clarissa’s bedroom door, I stole one more glance down the hall. I quoted the text that she had sent me in my head Please hurry over after school. My mom is being crazy! I bit my lip and knocked on the door. It inched open slowly and Clarissa’s bright blond head peeped around the corner. She looked surprised to see Jaron standing behind me, but gave a weak smile and gestured for us to come in. When we stepped inside and closed the door behind us, I noticed that her eyes were puffy from crying and her cheeks were overly red. I guessed it had to do with the ill-fitting nineteen eighties disaster of a gown she was wearing. I tried to keep my eyes from giving away my shock, but it didn’t work.
“I know—it’s awful!” she huffed. “It’s my mother’s debutant dress.”
“So, what happened to yours? Did Sylvia not bring it yet?” Sylvia wouldn’t forget something like that. I looked over at Jaron, who had stepped to the side of the room, not trying to stop the worry from washing over my face.
“No, she brought it,” Clarissa assured. “It was beautiful and fit perfectly… but my mom hated it. She said it made me look fatter than I usual." She paused and looked up at me.
I tried to control the flash of anger I felt. Her mom never had a shortage of horrible things to say to her, and Clarissa tried to hide those kinds of comments from everyone, including me. I didn’t know if it was to protect me from the anger that I felt burning my chest at that very moment, or to protect herself from the embarrassment that was probably burning in hers.
Jaron’s head snapped up. “She said that to you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and studying Clarissa carefully.
“Just forget I said that. Hailey was trying to convince her to let me keep it, but she threw the dress away and fired Hailey,” she said turning to me with her eyes on the floor. “Listen, I need help. There are so many people coming over tonight and I don’t want to embarrass myself.” She bit her lip. “I can’t ask Sylvia over to help me. I don’t want her to know that my mom… you know how she is. You’ve watched Sylvia, can you fix this?” she asked, pulling on one of the huge sleeves.
I sucked in a breath. I had helped Sylvia do alterations, and I did design a lot of my outfits. But doing something that big without my aunt seemed insane.
“Does your mom have a sewing machine?” I asked. If she didn’t want Sylvia to know, we’d have to find another place to work.
Clarissa rolled her bloodshot eyes. “She has a whole sewing room. You know how she likes to pretend to be Martha Stewart. It’s stocked with everything you could think of. I know she's had…” She paused. “Hailey do some mending in there for her. So I think it all works.”
I stepped back and looked at the mess of a dress with fresh eyes. The light pink was a charming shade, not too bubble gum baby pink, more of a blush. There was enough fabric there to make a whole new dress; I couldn’t even guess how many yards of tulle there was layered in the skirt.
“So your mom isn’t going to throw some kind of crazy fit if we make changes to this dress? As long as it is the pink color that she wanted you in, she’s okay?”
“You’ll do it?” she asked, bouncing in place.
“As long as your mom is okay with it. I don’t want her getting even madder at you and embarrassing you in front of everyone.”
“I don’t know that she is ever ‘okay’, but I could text her and see if she's all right with us cuttin
g up this atrocity. Besides, she’d never do anything in public—has to save face…” She picked her phone up off of the dresser.
“You text your mom when she’s home?” I asked cautiously.
“It’s safer this way,” she whispered as she clicked on her phone.
“What do you mean?” Jaron asked.
She sent the text and then looked up. “Easier, it’s just easier.”
He pulled himself away from the wall slowly, like he was approaching a crazed animal. “Clarissa, does she hit you?”
I sucked in a breath. Her mother was horrid, but surely she wasn’t physically abusive. The thought had never even entered my mind.
“Jaron,” I said, picking up his hand before dropping it quickly. His skin was as hot as a burner on the stove.
“Just because something is unpleasant doesn’t mean you ignore it,” he raged. I tugged at my shirt collar. The room was sweltering hot. “Does she hit you, you can tell me.”
“No,” Clarissa said firmly. “She hasn’t ever hit me. Sometimes when she is really drunk, I think she wants to. I just prefer texting so I don’t set her off.”
Jaron drew in a breath and closed his eyes.
“You okay there, buddy?” Clarissa asked.
The room began to cool, and I wondered if the tense exchange had fooled my body into thinking it was hot.
“I’m fine, I just can’t handle… I don’t like it when a woman is being hurt.”
“Why are you so sensitive about it?” Clarissa asked.
He cleared his throat. “Because I’m a true southern gentleman.” He paused and set his eyes on me. “Can you excuse us a moment, Clarissa?” he asked, heading to the sitting room door.
She looked at me, and I tried to let her know it was cool. “Sure.”
We walked into the sitting room and closed the door behind us. Jaron turned to me. “I know I probably should go home while you help her fix this mess, but I can’t leave you alone with that crazy woman in this house.”
I rolled my eyes. “She isn’t anything that I can’t handle.” His face hardened and I wondered if I really believed what I had just said.
