by Cecily Wolfe
Megan lives on the street behind Josh and she walked here with Alex after Alex’s mom brought him to her house, so I’m not sure who will be along for the drive with me.
“I’m going to stay over tonight, so I’ll walk Megan home and be right back, okay, Josh?”
Alex’s question hangs in the air as Josh stares at the frozen frame on the screen, as if he hasn’t realized the movie is on pause.
“Yeah, okay.”
I stand up, not waiting for any word from him, and start walking towards the stairs.
Megan grabs my hand as I walk by.
“Text me later, okay?”
She and Alex are so close, and so are Alex and Josh.
What will this mean for our work together on the newspaper, or our own friendship, as limited as it is?
I nod, but flinch as I feel a hand on my lower back.
“I’ll walk up with you.”
Josh is close behind me, the pine scent of his soap overwhelming me now.
When I glance down at Megan, I find her eyes narrowed, her own focus on Josh.
Josh’s dad makes some teasing comments when we stand at the front door and I stuff my sweaty feet into my boots and swaddle myself in my coat and scarf.
But neither of us reply.
“Bye, Josh. Thanks for having me over.”
Josh nods and turns away, and his dad frowns.
“Must be tired. You kids stay up too late these days. When I was a kid . . .”
He drones on, his words muddled as I think through what I’ve said and done tonight while we head back to my house.
I wish I knew what made Josh flip out like that, like he was a totally different person.
“Thanks for the pizza and the ride.”
Josh’s dad waits for me as I open my front door and step inside, waving to let him know I’m fine.
The TV from my parents’ room tells me they are, unfortunately, still awake, and I’ll have to peek in to tell them I’m back and deal with any questions they have.
That my mother has.
“Hi Mom. Is Dad already asleep?”
A loud snore and a grunt is my answer, and my mother rolls her eyes.
“I hope you were careful, Mia.”
I’m not sure what she means by this, if she thinks Josh and I are having sex or she’s worried I was eating something I shouldn’t.
Eating anything at all.
Probably both, but I don’t care what she means or why it’s any of her business.
I nod and tell her good night, then walk past the bathroom, although I should brush my teeth and wash my face before I get into bed.
Instead, I go into my bedroom and fall onto my bed, letting my purse drop beside me.
Dear Kayla,
Is there any way for you to send me a sign to tell me if I’ve done the right thing? Should I tell Josh I made a mistake, and I want us to be together? I wish I knew what to do, or had someone to help me. I don’t want him to be angry or sad - I never want to hurt anyone like that. Why aren’t you here with me now, to help me figure this out?
Love always, Mia
The next morning, I wake up later than usual, my face puffy and my eyes red.
But my mother doesn’t notice.
She does notice when I take a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet over the sink and dump a couple of them into my hand.
“Why do you need those?”
I shake my head as my tangled hair falls into my eyes, but I don’t bother to push it away.
“If it’s that time of the month, use a heating pad. There’s no reason to take drugs if you don’t need them.”
The word drugs hits me like a slap on the face, and I slide the pills back into the bottle, practically feeling her nod at my movement even though I’m not looking in her direction.
That time of the month, as she calls it, hasn’t been around for a couple of months, and I’m not going to complain about it.
After all, who wants that to show up, anyway?
“Your father and I are going to look at a new dining room set this afternoon, and we’re thinking of going out to dinner, so make sure you get some homework done if you’d like to go along with us.”
That’s the last thing I want to do today, but I nod anyway and fill a glass with tap water to take back upstairs with me.
I haven’t looked at my phone since I got home last night, and it occurs to me I promised Megan I’d text her when I see a string of messages from her, mostly short and angry ones with lots of exclamation points, as if she can’t decide if she’s worried about me or mad I’m not answering.
Sorry, fell asleep. I’m fine.
Nothing from Josh, and I hope that means he’s been able to see what happened between us last night more clearly.
But there is a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Band room, Monday before lunch
What?
I text back right away, although I should think a bit before I do to see if I can figure out what this means.
Who is this?
Staring at the phone doesn’t get me an immediate reply, so I plug it in to charge and take a shower, scrubbing at my scalp as I wash my hair in a way that reminds me of how Josh rubbed his head last night, like it could help him think better.
He’ll understand once he meets a girl who will love him as much as he loves her. I’m sure he’ll get over it and right now I’m worried about nothing.
“Mia!”
My mother yells up the stairs as I’m putting on jeans and a sweatshirt, and I twist my damp hair up into a bun, sticking a pencil through the heavy lump as my sister used to do.
When I head downstairs, my mother squints at my hair, clearly recognizing it as one of Kayla’s favorite ways to manage her own mop, and points at the door wordlessly.
I open it and find a man in a gray uniform who must be freezing outside. He’s holding a bundle of red roses, with a small card attached.
“Mia Hunter? These are for you.”
He smiles perfunctorily and shoves the bouquet into my arms, before turning away, rushing down the driveway.
I don’t blame him.
“They’re lovely. You’re rather young to be getting roses, though. I hope you and that boyfriend of yours didn’t do anything last night you shouldn’t have.”
I close my eyes and keep my mouth shut as my mother voices her opinions.
Paul was always sending Kayla flowers, when they were together, when she broke up with him, anytime.
Sometimes I thought it was sweet, and other times, gross.
After all, I was just a kid, and boys had cooties as far as I was concerned.
But the flowers made my sister happy.
Or at least, most of the time they did.
I’m sorry, forgive me please
The note is signed Josh, as if it could be anyone else.
My mother encourages me to put them in water in a glass vase she finds under the kitchen sink, and I can’t remember a time when we’ve had fresh flowers in this house.
I notice she’s stretching her neck out to see what the small notecard says, but I hold it against my chest so she doesn’t catch a glimpse, and for once, she doesn’t pressure me to show her something private.
My fingers trail the tips of the roses, the soft petals that feel smooth against my skin, and for some reason, I think of Eli.
Could I trust him enough to ask about the situation with Josh?
Would he be able to offer some insight, a boy's perspective?
Chapter Ten
Megan seems to have accepted my apologies and reassurances, and asks if I want to go sledding with her and Alex tomorrow.
She doesn’t mention Josh, which means both of them know Josh and I are no longer a couple, and I wonder what Josh told Alex last night.
It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Josh has accepted it, and any regrets, if that’s what they can be called, on my end are mine to deal with.
The anonymous messenger hasn�
�t responded to my question, and I find myself staring at my phone in my bedroom, my open journal beside me on my bed as I wonder if I should see if I can find Eli’s phone number and ask him for advice.
I imagine him laughing at the idea of someone asking him for help, but think that honestly, he’d probably be honored that anyone would trust him so much.
My parents leave to go table shopping, and if I’m not mistaken, my mother is pleased I want to stay home.
The idea of eating dinner in public as she harasses me over every bite doesn't appeal to me.
As soon as their car is out of our driveway and down the street, out of sight, I shove my feet into my boots and bundle up.
There’s a stack of scarves on a small shelf on the inside of the closet, and I grab one I’ve never seen either of my parents use.
It’s dark red.
I hug it to myself for a moment, then shove it into my coat pocket before stepping outside and locking the front door behind me.
I’m not sure where Eli lives, just that it’s the next street over, so I have no idea how I’m going to find him. Instead of thinking it over too much, like I do everything else, I start walking, wandering down his street when I reach the crossroads, staring at the snow-covered yards as if there will be a sign in front of his house to indicate I should look there.
But as I turn away from the third house on the right, I back into someone and slip, nearly falling into a heap of filthy snow.
“Not the best weather for an afternoon stroll, is it?”
Eli catches me and pushes me back to my feet, letting me go as quickly as he had grabbed me.
I stare at him until a burst of icy air shakes me from my surprised state, his smile patient as he remains silent.
“Hi, Eli.”
His laughter is reassuring, and I smile back, relaxing a bit.
“What brings you out this way?”
When he sweeps his arm wide in front of us, as if he’s offering me the expanse of grubby leftover chunks of snow and ice as a gift, I laugh, too.
“I’ve never seen you with a scarf, but I guess you just don’t like to wear one, right?”
When I pull the red scarf from my pocket, his eyes drift down, watching it like he’s unsure what it might be, although I’ve just told him.
I hold it up to him, a big lump of color in our muted surroundings.
“Wow. No one’s ever given me a present before. Or is this to borrow?”
What does he mean, no one’s ever given him a present before?
I had so many friends before we moved here, and parties with gifts, for birthdays and celebrations of achievements.
Does Eli really have none of this?
“That sounded so lame. Of course I’ve had presents from my parents, just not from anyone else. This is cool, thanks.”
His tone changes, from the astonished quiet of his first response to an upbeat act now, and I realize it’s exactly what that is.
An act.
“It looks good with your jacket.”
I’m being honest, because the dark red looks wicked against the black of his thin jacket, and as he wraps the scarf around his neck, tying a loose knot so it covers his bare skin, he smiles .
“Thanks, Mia.”
The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, and I lift my shoulders up and tilt my head back, stretching muscles I didn’t realize were so tense.
“I wanted to talk to you, and I don’t have your number to text.”
I’m still staring at the cloudy sky, which threatens to dump more snow any moment, as I tell him why I’m out, shocking myself by my bluntness.
“Cool, okay. I can give you my number, but do you want to go somewhere so we can talk?”
With my head tilted sideways to look at him now, I see he’s moved away , and wonder why.
Would he rather not hear about my problems?
Am I assuming too much about our new friendship?
Accepting a scarf from me is one thing, but listening to my worries about my relationship with Josh is entirely another.
“You know, maybe you have something better to do than listen to me whine. Besides, I should be able to handle my, uh, issue myself.”
His eyes narrow and he leans closer, but his feet stay still.
“We’re friends now, right? Friends help each other. Or at least, they listen. I can’t say I’ll be able to help, because I have no idea what the issue is, but sometimes it feels better to give it words. Get it off your chest, as my dad would say.”
The mention of his dad makes me curious about his parents.
From what he’s said, they're the opposite of mine, but they still let him go around dressed for weather that doesn’t induce hypothermia.
“Come on, stop worrying about it so much and come over to my house. My dad’s working on his motorcycle in the garage and my mom is doing some crafty thing in the basement.”
He shakes his head.
“They won’t mind if I have someone over; in fact, they’ll probably want to bake a cake over it.”
I should have left a note for my parents, but if I’m at his house for more than an hour, I can always text them.
Besides, the way my mom shops, she’ll take much longer than that just to look at furniture, never mind for dinner at a restaurant that might have a waiting list.
I bite my lip, then nod.
“Come on, I wouldn’t mind continuing this discussion in front of our fireplace.”
A fireplace?
We have a wood-burning fireplace we never use because my mother says it’s too messy, and the idea of it makes my eyes water.
I don’t think it’s from the cold.
Kayla’s friend Sarah had a fireplace at her house, and I can’t even count the number of times I went over with my sister to make s’mores and cook hot dogs over it with Sarah and their friend Cassidy.
The three of them included me in their activities so much, and I was such an annoying little kid . . .
Eli and I walk side by side, quiet now, and I hear a bird call out as we turn to walk up a well-shoveled driveway.
I’m surprised when a woman with a man’s enormous sweatshirt, frayed at the cuffs, pulls open the front door as we approach.
Her hair is in a sloppy ponytail, and she’s not wearing any makeup.
Just a big smile.
“I wondered where you got to, Eli. Where did you find her?”
She ushers us inside, closing the door quickly.
Before Eli can answer, she shoves us both out of the hallway and around a corner, where a huge room with a big bay window and a roaring fireplace waits for us.
I suck in a breath.
“What is it, honey? Haven’t you ever seen a fireplace before?”
His mom laughs, and Eli shakes his head.
“You’re scaring her, Mom, geez.”
But he’s smiling as their eyes meet.
“Let me know if you need anything. I’m repairing a quilt downstairs, but I’m within hollering distance, so don’t be a stranger.”
She’s gone before I realize I still have my coat on, and I haven’t told her my name.
“I can hang that up.”
I give him my coat after shoving my scarf and hat into my pockets, and turn to the fire.
The sparks are entrancing, and I can't imagine why everyone who lives here doesn’t just sit and stare at it all the time.
“We have a sofa and some chairs. You don’t have to sit on the floor.”
Sunlight pours into the room as Eli returns, forming a distorted halo around him as the window alters the beams, and I smile up at him as I shake my head.
“I’m fine here, if that’s okay. But you don’t have to stay down here with me.”
He shrugs, and I realize I’ve rarely seen him without his trademark black jacket, even during the school day.
His worn ivory sweater is cable knit and although it seems so old-fashioned, it suits him.
After a moment, he shakes som
e snow from his hair and I duck away from him, laughing, as he sits beside me, leaving a distance of a few feet.
“My dad insists his feet don’t smell when he does this, but my mom chases him out of the room to get clean socks every time.”
He’s stretching his legs out so the bottom of his feet face the fire, and I do the same, leaning back on the palms of my hands as he does.
“What would make a girl like you come out in the cold looking for a guy like me to talk to?”
He sounds incredulous, and I don’t blame him.
We’ve talked a few times at school and walked home together, but he probably expects with my friends and Josh around, I wouldn’t burden him with anything serious.
This might be a bad idea, and I should just let it go and enjoy hanging out with him.
“Mia? I hope that didn’t sound judgmental or obnoxious, because I didn’t mean it that way.”
I sit up, tucking my legs under me and turning towards him.
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I know I probably give a certain impression, so it makes sense.”
My voice trails off at the end, and I’m not sure how to go on.
Should I ask him what he thinks of how I handled the Josh situation last night, and ask him to give me his opinion from a boy’s perspective?
“Nah, that’s not right. Everyone does it, looks at everyone else and makes these snap judgments. I don’t want to be like that.”
He stares into the fire as he speaks.
“You’re not like that, either, are you?”
I feel my hands twist on the top of my thighs as I consider this, because I’m as guilty of this as anyone.
But like Eli, I don’t want to be.
“So,” he fills the silence, as if he can tell I’m uncomfortable. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Seriously, at school, it’s like I can hear the gears turning when I look at you.”
I frown, and he laughs as my back stiffens.
“That’s not a bad thing, to be in your head a lot, but maybe it’s too much sometimes. Isn’t it?”
He can tell this just by looking at me?
I doubt this, but I don’t question him.
Instead, I take a deep breath and blow it out.
“I broke up with Josh last night, and he didn’t take it well.”
Eli coughs, sounding like he’s choking for a moment until I look over at him, growing worried he might need help.
