XVIII
October
THE JOURNAL WAS ALMOST FULL NOW, SO Naomi wrote her words smaller. She liked the way the pages felt when she opened the cover. They crackled as if they were brittle, but it was only because they were covered with ink over every available spot.
She ran her fingers over the words and thought about what they meant. Was it fear that filled them? Or something else? It had to be something else because the dragons in her dreams were gone now. She had written them out of her head and forced them into the journal. In one section she wrote about a dragon opening its mouth to breathe fire onto the knight, but then it stopped and Naomi stood up from the rock where she had shattered. Piece by piece, she pulled herself back together. The knight smiled and offered his hand to her, but instead of taking it she ran to the dragon and climbed onto its neck. Its scales felt like thick paper. It was hot like a sunbathed stone. She wrapped her legs and arms around its neck and it spread its gigantic wings and flew her away into the sunset.
XIX
November
IN OCTOBER THE SUGAR MAPLES HAD turned bright orange. Now, near the end of November, most of the leaves had dropped and curled up into brown scrolls. It was a mild week, and a few of the leaves were still bright in the center, beginning to fade. Those were the ones still clinging to the trees.
Naomi liked to sit on the balcony and look up at the maze of leaves and branches. She could smell winter coming. It was spicy and woody and cold. Today was Saturday, and Eric was bent over three black garbage bags. He pushed the leaves in with his hands and smiled up at her when he saw her watching. She smiled back.
He was still divided in her mind—two pieces shuffling about. One piece was his kindness. The other was him pushing her against the wall in her bedroom. She could never decide which one to attach herself to. The kindness was the best, of course.
Turning back to the book in her lap, she shivered as a cool breeze ripped a few leaves from the branches. They fluttered in spirals to the balcony like bronzed butterflies. She saw them out of the corner of her eye, but was so intent on reading the last paragraph of her book that she nearly jumped out of her chair when one twirled into her lap and covered the last sentence. Annoyed, she flicked it away.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know how the book ended. In fact, she had read it four times in the past five months. It confused her every time. She looked up and blinked. Everything turned blurry. She didn’t want to think about her mother anymore. She tried not to write about her in her journal, but she kept showing up on the pages. Finally, she put the journal in her dresser drawer and vowed not to open it again. She wanted to get rid of The Awakening too, put it back on a shelf in the den and forget its existence. Yet here she was, reading it one more time. She was truly insane.
When she turned to look at Eric again, he was almost finished with the leaves. He dragged the bulging garbage bags to the patio and tied the last one closed. His face was sweaty. She squeezed the book in her hands and looked up at the branches. A few more leaves were holding on.
“Naomi?”
Jesse entered the balcony and closed the glass doors behind him. He had been away with Eric for the past week and a half. They had arrived home a few days earlier with bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes.
“Evelyn said you were out here. There’s some lunch downstairs if you’re hungry.”
“Can I stay out a little longer?”
“If you like.” He took a seat across from her. He hadn’t told her where he and Eric had gone, but she guessed another jewelry store. She couldn’t imagine him doing it. Did he wear a ski mask and gloves and carry a crowbar? The whole thing seemed ridiculous.
“What are you reading today?” he asked, leaning over to look at her book. Confusion filled his face. “I gave that one to you months ago.”
“You did.” She stared down at the cover.
“Is it any good?”
“It’s okay. It’s something my mom tried to get me to read once, but I never did until you gave it to me with all those other classics.”
He leaned back in his chair. “So the truth comes out.”
She looked away, upset at the insinuation in his voice. What did he mean by that? She didn’t have to like the classics he gave her. He just kept pushing and pushing. She ground her teeth together and gathered courage to look at him. “You know, you don’t have to be such a jerk about the classics thing.”
“A jerk?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant—”
“No, I get it. I’m pushing them on you, and that bothers the hell out of you.”
She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. The truth was it did bother the hell out of her, and it was about time he acknowledged it.
“Yeah, it might be that,” he said. “My dad wanted me to read his favorite stuff too.” He folded his arms, his expression stiff. “Maybe I’m taking it out on you, who knows? I’ll stop if you want—I won’t make you read crap you don’t want to read.”
She looked down at The Awakening. “It’s not crap. It just reminds me of her. I hate thinking about her.”
“Then why are you reading it?”
“I don’t know.” The answer came quickly, but it wasn’t the truth and Jesse knew it. He unfolded his arms and focused on her until she looked him in the eyes. There was no way out. She should have gone downstairs to eat lunch when he had given her the chance.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, or even that she thought he was a jerk. It was how he knew her so well that made her uncomfortable, like walking to the edge of a cliff knowing if she didn’t stop she would fall off in a few more steps. He saw her approaching that edge, and he wanted to help her. For months he had seen it, and for months he had gently nudged her away. He had kept her from throwing herself at him. He had given her a journal to record her deepest thoughts. He had given her classics to try to help her understand a part of herself she was trying so hard to suppress.
Her heart melted as she kept her gaze on his eyes, realizing how careful he had been with her, how frightened he might be that she would push him away. She wanted to explain herself. She had to.
“It’s hard to think about my mom,” she said, the words shaking on her tongue. “It’s hard to read something that connects me to her. It feels intimate, and that’s something we never had before. It’s something I always wanted. My whole life, I needed her and she was never there.” She ran her fingers across the cover of the book, tears filling her eyes. “Now, in the weirdest way, she’s here with me. I don’t know how to explain it. I know it’s not real, but I—”
“Sure it’s real.”
She looked up at his softened expression. “How can it be real? She doesn’t even know I’m reading it. She doesn’t even know I’m alive.”
For a long moment he watched her, and then he looked down at his hands. “My dad is an English professor,” he said. “He eats and breathes books. You can imagine what it was like for me growing up. He’d talk forever about stories he loved—things like Camelot and Hobbits and magic rings. It was exciting, but when I got older he started shoving things like Dickens and Faulkner into my hands. I realized he was going to make me read everything on his shelves whether I liked it or not. He has a lot of books—more than Steve and Evelyn own in there.” He nodded to the bookshelves in the den. “I’ve learned to appreciate and understand all kinds of literature, especially the classics. I guess, in a way, I wanted that same experience for you. I got to know my dad so well through those books because they are what he loves to read most. I can’t explain it, either.”
She lowered her eyes to her book and thought of the ocean and death and what her mother must have thought of the terrible ending. She didn’t want her mother in her head. The more she crept in, the more confusing the whole kidnapping situation became. If she looked at Jesse and thought of her mother at the same time, things started to fall apart. Escape entered her mind. The freedom she had constructed around herself began to dissipate. Bu
t if she kept her mother distant, everything became solid again.
Another breeze drifted across the balcony. She shivered under her pink sweatshirt. She looked at Jesse and tried to imagine what his father was like. He was probably thin and smart, the old-fashioned type who wore bowties to parties and kissed your hand when he met you. He might have red hair and green eyes. Freckles. A smile that could melt your heart.
“What about your mother?” she asked. “Does she read a lot too?”
His face fell. “My mom left right after I was born. I never knew her.”
“Oh.”
Brad’s father had left his family right after he was born. It made her sad to see families broken like that. When she was younger, she had thought she was lucky to have two parents who loved each other and stayed together. Now she knew better. If they both ignored you, it didn’t matter anyway.
“Your dad sounds like he cares about you, at least,” she said.
“He does, and I’m lucky for that.” He touched her arm and she nearly jumped out of her chair. He was going to kiss her again. He was staring at her mouth.
“Tell me,” he said softly. “Are you happier here than you were at home?”
“What?” Her heart seemed to stop. He was still staring at her mouth. Was he going to kiss her or not? The book in her hands felt like a ten-ton brick.
“Tell me.”
She looked at the branch reaching over the fence. She had no desire to try to climb onto it. All she wanted was for Jesse to pull her into his arms and kiss her like he had on her birthday. She wanted something steady and strong and reliable to hold onto. Brad was gone forever. There was only Jesse, and every part of her was happy it was him instead of Brad. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe that’s what they wanted. She didn’t care.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I am.”
“Good.” His eyes were luminous in the sunlight. He leaned forward, practically on the edge of his chair. Fire whipped down her spine as he reached forward and pulled her closest arm to him. Carefully, like handling a fragile piece of glass, he took her hand in both of his. She looked down as he cradled her palm in his fingers, squeezing gently.
“I don’t see why you would ever want to leave,” he said quietly. “You have more here than you ever had at home. The way the news reports make everything sound, your parents were never there for you. They can’t care for you like we do ... like I do.”
Her heart thudded. The soft look in his eyes, his touch, the way he held her hand so protectively, but not in a selfish way. She looked up at the stark, exposed branches where the leaves were fluttering in a breeze she couldn’t feel. Their color would fade and bring winter, but first they had to let go.
Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog started barking. It was as far away as the waves near her home, pounding and crashing against the shore in ceaseless rhythm. She looked away from the leaves just as Jesse leaned in closer, this time close enough to press his mouth to hers. She kissed him back. She had to kiss him back. She had dreamed about this moment for months. It was even better than she had imagined.
He helped her stand up, and The Awakening slipped from her lap. It fell to the balcony, but she barely registered what had happened. Jesse’s hands slid beneath her sweatshirt up the bare skin of her back. She leaned into him. She wanted him closer. If he loved her, nothing else mattered. Nothing.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “I won’t stay away from you any more,” he whispered. “I’ve fought it for so long, but it’s hopeless. You want me too, don’t you?”
She closed her eyes. The dog’s barking grew louder. The leaves rustled in another cool breeze she hardly felt. Jesse wouldn’t stay with her forever, she remembered suddenly. Eric and Evelyn would take her away from here, away from him. Italy.
“I thought you said you would be leaving,” she said. “When they take me to Italy with them, you’re not coming.”
He moved his hands from around her waist and planted them on her hips in a tight, sensual hold. “Oh, I’m coming. I’ve wanted to tell you for awhile, but I was waiting for the right moment. It’s time for me to make some changes in my life, and I want you to be a part of that—a part of me.”
A knot formed in her throat. She couldn’t swallow. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted Steve’s firm. I thought you wanted—”
“Not anymore.” His heartbeat pounded against her chest. He lifted a hand and cupped her face, peering deeply into her eyes. “Everything has changed. I used to want you for different reasons, but you’ve changed things in my head, Naomi. You’ve made me see who I can become. All I want is to be with you—forever.”
NAOMI KEPT the word forever in her thoughts every day. She looped it in her mind whenever Jesse kissed her. Things went farther every time, and it made her sweat with excitement. He would lean into her on the sofa, kissing her, holding her, running his fingers through her hair, and she would think forever, forever, forever. At night she opened her journal and wrote on the few fresh, clean pages that were left. She had given up trying not to write in it anymore. She breathed in the scent of the ink and wrote Jesse’s name with delicate loops and a smile on her face. Paragraphs formed beneath her fingers about how Jesse made her feel, the way he cupped her face in his hands when he kissed her, so gentle, but urgent and strong at the same time. He was perfect. He made her smile even when he wasn’t around. Just writing his name made her feel giddy and light-headed.
“That’s an awful lot of dessert,” Evelyn said as Naomi piled her bowl full of brownies and ice cream.
Naomi blushed and dropped the ice cream scoop back into the carton. “I’m sorry. I thought there was enough for everyone.”
“There is, but you don’t normally take that much.” Evelyn scooped some ice cream into her own bowl, and they both walked to the living room where everyone sat down to watch a movie. Jesse patted the cushion next to him, and Naomi sat down with a happy sigh.
“It’s for Jesse too,” she said to Evelyn. “We, uh, we....”
“No need to explain,” Evelyn said with a smirk as she sat down next to Steve. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. Naomi wanted Jesse to hold her like that, but it felt too weird here in front of everyone. They only kissed in private, and never in her room. Jesse refused to enter her room lately. So far she hadn’t asked him why. Right now, sitting so close to him was as far as he seemed willing to go in front of the others. He picked up the second spoon from her bowl and scooped up a piece of brownie.
“You want to stay down here or go upstairs to the den?” he asked and slid the spoon into his mouth. He chewed the brownie slowly then licked his lips and looked her up and down.
Naomi tried not to giggle. It amazed her how she felt all hot and tingly inside, like someone had lit fireworks inside of her stomach. It was wonderful and crazy and scary, all at the same time.
“Upstairs,” she whispered, nudging him with her shoulder.
“We’re going to go read,” Jesse announced to everyone, and stood. He offered Naomi his hand. She grabbed it and followed him up the stairs.
“Have fun!” Eric called out behind them.
Naomi stifled another giggle. “What’s going on?” she asked when they entered the den.
Jesse took the bowl from her hands and set it on the pool table. “Nothing. I just want to kiss you again, that’s all.” He pulled her into his arms, and she kissed him in a way she had never kissed Brad. She was sure she would never kiss anybody the way she could kiss Jesse. He was leaving in a few days to spend Christmas with his father, and she had to savor him every moment before he left. He reached inside that secret box, the one she had locked up for so long. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to open it.
XX
December
NAOMI’S MIND FILLED WITH VISIONS OF stepping onto the sun-baked stones of a patio and looking across a panorama of rolling green hills stretched beneath a turquoise sky. The hills were dotted with yellow sunflowers, some larger than bot
h her hands put together, even if she spread her fingers wide apart like elegant petals. Olive trees bent themselves across the landscape, some old and some young, some lined in perfect rows. Vineyards were hazy in the distance. She smelled olives and grapes and bread baking in Evelyn’s kitchen behind her.
She closed her eyes and listened to the silence. Then Evelyn told her there was a small town ten minutes down the dirt road. At the market they could buy aged cheeses, fresh pasta, and white truffles.
“I don’t mean chocolate,” she laughed.
Naomi opened her eyes and shook the sunlight from her imagination. All she could see now was the twinkle of Christmas lights in Evelyn’s eyes. Truffles? Weren’t those mushrooms that grew from the root systems of trees? Would they taste like trees? She scrunched her nose. “Aren’t those really expensive?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Evelyn hugged her knees to her chest, the Christmas lights sparkling around her like a halo of fireflies.
She was happier than Naomi had ever seen her as she sat on the floor next to Steve. He played with the ends of her hair as she sipped from her mug of hot chocolate. Lately, Naomi had noticed they were always touching each other, almost flirting, but in a comfortable, unhurried way. Her parents had never been that way. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen them kiss each other. Something inside of her ached when she watched Steve and Evelyn. She wanted that kind of affection for herself, like some greedy monster starved for raw, pure love. Jesse could give it to her, but he was still away visiting his father.
“They’re worth every cent,” Evelyn said, referring to the truffles. “Even Eric, the penny-pincher, will tell you that.”
Eric smiled as he finished stringing the last of the lights on the Christmas tree. He was on his knees bent halfway beneath the limbs. “Yes,” he grunted, “they’re good once in a while.”
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