At First Touch

by Dunman, Mattie

  Carey just sat there on my bed, looking completely edible, and the thought of sitting next to him left me paralyzed. He gave me a puzzled look and I laughed uneasily and sat on the floor, making Carey look even more confused. I realized that aside from this afternoon, I hadn’t been alone with him for weeks and I was suddenly intensely aware of his proximity, his warmth, the way his hair curled slightly at the ends. His vibrant sapphire eyes were watching me with close attention and I felt a slow heat stealing through my limbs, making my head feel light and my mouth dry.

  “What is it, Liz?” Carey asked, cocking his head slightly.

  I was so deeply affected by him that I wasn’t sure what to say. After another period of silence, Carey rose from the bed and lowered himself next to me on the floor. Cautiously, as though he were afraid I would cut and run, he put his fingers over my hand. He searched my eyes, his face so close to mine I could smell the peppermint on his breath, and he slowly but inevitably began to slide the glove from my unresisting hand. My mind was moving at an incredible pace and yet I felt frozen, my entire consciousness anchored on the rising color in Carey’s cheeks.

  The glove slipped off, and keeping his gaze fixed on me, Carey gently placed his bare hand back over mine. Even though skin-to-skin contact didn’t bother me once I’d downloaded someone, it was still something I avoided out of habit. It felt strange and wonderful to have Carey’s skin resting against mine, and the walls between our minds melted, revealing the sweet, eager thoughts running through his mind as he moved closer.

  “She’s so beautiful…will she let me…I’ve wanted to kiss her for so long. She can hear me right? Liz, Liz, Liz…I’m so crazy about you…”

  I felt my eyes burn with moisture as his thoughts became more personal, telling me how he’d been wanting me from the moment we met, how he knew we had a powerful connection, how he’d never felt this way before.

  I’d never felt this way before either.

  With a final wary glance at my eyes, Carey closed his and touched his lips lightly against mine. They were silky and cool, and it felt as though an electric shock passed from his lips to mine. He grazed my bottom lip with his tongue and I shuddered, opening my lips slightly, trying to pull his scent, his taste, everything about him into me with a breath. He sighed slightly and thought, “I hope I do this right,” and surrounded me in his kiss, his first kiss…my first kiss.

  I don’t know what kissing is like for other girls, but for me it was a total sensory experience. Apart from the fact that Carey was so sweet, so slow, and so gentle despite the urgency I could feel in him, I could hear his sincerity and sense his emotions, his adoration of me. I had never expected to be able to kiss anyone, and had certainly never known that it could be anything like this.

  After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes bright and feverish. I don’t know what I looked like, but I must have had a similar expression because he smiled and stroked my cheek with his knuckles.

  “That was my first kiss,” he said, as though he didn’t know how I would respond. I smiled a little, feeling as though I were in the midst of some crazy dream.

  “Me too,” I said, wrapping his fingers in mine in an unfamiliar gesture. We sat quietly together for a while, gradually becoming more comfortable touching one another. With a sigh, I finally pulled away, feeling like I’d gone as far as I could stand for one day.

  “How do you stand it? The mind-reading thing?” he asked. I glanced up in surprise and then shrugged philosophically.

  “I avoid contact. I try to keep my mind closed. It’s not always possible,” I replied shortly. Even though I knew Carey would probably understand better than most, I was uncomfortable discussing my little quirk.

  “Can you, I mean…you know all about me, right?” I smiled wryly and nodded. “Well, can you tell me a little about what you’ve been through? I mean, not anything you don’t want to,” he hastily said, “or, um…well, I mean you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He meant so well, it was hard to get irritated with him.

  “No, you’re right. It’s only fair that I answer some questions. I have a one-sided advantage.” I sighed and arranged myself more comfortably. “Fire away. What do you want to know?”

  Carey’s face underwent an amusing array of changes, displaying surprise, confusion, embarrassment, and finally excitement. “Ok, how did you learn to control your ability? I mean…when I finally realized what I could do, it took me a really long time to control it.” He laughed. “I used to run so fast in gym that the teacher thought I’d never moved at all and took off points for being lazy.” I smiled, picturing a young Carey trying to explain to his teacher that he simply ran too fast for him to see.

  “Well, it took me a while, but not as long as you might think. My mind sort of works like a computer, so once I figured out the…hmm, operating system?” I said hesitantly, wondering if I was being too literal with my description, but Carey simply nodded and I took encouragement. “Well, for a while I wasn’t able to control any of it; it was worst in the hospital, where nurses and doctors were constantly coming in to examine me. Sometimes I could turn off the thoughts, but only if I was really upset. Eventually I figured out when I was angry or depressed, controlling the flow between my mind and everyone else’s was easier, so I started to concentrate on those feelings without actually having to have a fit or anything and…” I trailed off, looking at my hands, remembering the unbelievable stress of those first few days when I tried to control the chaos in my head.

  There was no point in telling Carey just how hard things had been; I used to lay there immobile, unable to eat or drink or do anything for myself because my mind was too crowded to listen to my body. My own thoughts were lost in the madness and I only grasped them a few times until I started to get control. I don’t really have that many coherent memories from that time, just brief flashes of lucidity, during which I tried to get hold of my mind. And I remember Dad. His face is very clear in my memory.

  I realized I had been silent for a few minutes and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry Carey. There’s no easy answer for how I learned to control my ability.”

  He nodded and squeezed my shoulder gently. “It’s ok. Maybe sometime later you’ll be able to talk about it.” I nodded. He paused for a beat and then asked, “What’s it like? When you, ah, download somebody? What does it feel like?”

  I smiled a little and closed my eyes. “It’s a little like seeing a movie, only sped up so fast that you only get a few really comprehensible images. Everything is really bright, really loud for a second and I go numb all over then everything clears and I get my vision back. When the feeling comes back to my limbs it’s like a million little needles pricking me. You know, when your leg falls asleep? I have that all over my body for a second or two and then everything goes back to normal.”

  “And your eyes? I noticed before, I guess when you downloaded me, your pupils got so big, it looked like your eyes were black. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Carey said hesitantly, as though he were afraid to offend me.

  “I don’t know why they do that. There was nothing in the research I downloaded from all the physicians I touched to explain it. Of course, there was absolutely no expectation that anything like this would happen to me to begin with. I know how I became the way I am, but not why.” This was something I had puzzled over more times than I could count; why did the treatment that was used on so many other patients in a vegetative state work on me and no one else? Was it because of the electricity already contained in my body from the accident? Some freak genetic quirk? Or something else entirely that I cannot name?

  Carey’s arm slid around me and I leaned into him, surprised at how easy physical contact was becoming between us. “One more question,” he said. “For now, anyway.”

  “Ok.”

  “Was the kiss good?”

  I laughed out loud and burrowed into the wide spread of his arms. “Yes,” I replied, smiling furiously. He grinned and proceeded to try to do
better than ‘good.’ We were getting pretty close to ‘mind-blowing’ when I heard someone clear his throat loudly and obviously.

  Carey froze and removed his hands from me like I was on fire. I smiled and turned to my father, who was frowning disapprovingly at us from the doorway. I might have been more worried if I hadn’t seen the twitch of lips that meant he was amused.

  “Now that’s something I’d hoped I’d never have to see.” Dad sighed and put his hands on his hips while Carey scrambled to his feet. “C’mere, Carey. Let’s you and I have a chat.” I nearly lost it as I watched Carey follow my Dad out of the room, his shoulders slumped and face beet red. I hoped Dad wasn’t too hard on him.

  Five minutes later I had myself under control and I joined them in the living room. Dad and Carey were sitting on the couch talking about sports. I rolled my eyes and flopped down in the armchair.

  “Well, honey, it’s getting pretty late. You’d better say goodbye to your guest,” Dad said seriously. I winked at him and got back up to walk Carey to the door. As soon as we were out of Dad’s sight he started to grin, but wouldn’t tell me what they talked about. He just said it was ‘guy stuff,’ so I threw up my hands and bid him goodbye.

  “Carey, I don’t know how to thank you. You saved my life. No matter what, I won’t forget what you’ve done for me,” I said, my voice suddenly sober. Carey’s shocking blue eyes were soft with adoration as he looked down at me, his skin glowing palely in the muted light.

  “I’d do anything for you, Liz,” he said simply, making my stomach do a flip. He leaned in and kissed me softly, a promise, and then was gone, reminding me that he would pick me up the next evening for our rescheduled date with V.J. and Mark. I leaned against the door as I listened to his ancient car power up and make its slow way down the road, my face stretched in an impossible grin. Eventually, Dad’s voice brought me down to earth and I went in to join him for what I knew was coming; the inevitable sex talk we had both been dreading since I turned fourteen. I’d have to be extra careful not to listen in to his thoughts tonight I thought, and settled down on the couch for my lecture.

  Chapter 13

  Preston was out of school for a week because he was locked up in juvenile hall awaiting his hearing. Evidently he was way over the legal limit, even if he had been of drinking age, so the small-town cops were taking his indiscretion very seriously. Carey told me about the last drunk driver in town, about a year earlier; the man had plowed into a station wagon carrying two little boys and their mom. One of the boys was killed. No one wanted to see something like that happen again, so Preston was in pretty serious trouble. I felt a passing guilt about the situation, but was finally convinced by Dad and Carey that I was in no way responsible for his predicament, particularly since I had never spread the rumor about him to begin with.

  In fact, the information about Preston’s embarrassing interlude with Jessie had been generated by his friend Shane, who was pissed off about Preston playing first string on the basketball team. I had a simultaneous urge to throttle Shane or shake his hand in thanks since he had inadvertently brought so much trouble to my door, even as Carey and I came together in an entirely new way. He was now my declared “boyfriend” to anyone who would listen to him. Although I wasn’t thrilled to have so much attention focused on me, since I was to everyone’s best knowledge his first girlfriend, I did enjoy the languid looks, the sweet surprises in my locker, the out of season flowers waiting at my lunch table.

  Carey also took every opportunity to show off his abilities, showing up at my house unexpectedly and carrying me off to some local beauty spot for a quick kiss, returning me to my room before my father even knew I was gone, picking up his car with one hand and balancing it at shoulder level, making me stand a mile away from him and whisper, then rush to my side to repeat what I had said. It was silly and fun and I found myself showing off a little too. I dipped into his mind when he wasn’t expecting it and said his thoughts out loud or listed all the books he’d ever read or music he’d ever listened to. We were a weird couple, but I was as close to happy as I’d ever been.

  My pleasure in our new relationship was marred slightly by Carey’s more unguarded thoughts. It wasn’t that Carey was thinking anything unflattering or betraying a secret passion for Angelina Jolie. It was the way he viewed me, as some mixture of damsel in distress and warrior princess. While I knew he genuinely liked me and I couldn’t deny that there was a mutual attraction, there was a part of me that wondered how much my dramatic situation had to do with his passion for being a hero. As a boy, he had been understandably preoccupied with comic book superheroes, and I was both a powerful sidekick and a constant victim at the same time in his mind, rousing his noble instincts and making me question his motives.

  But my doubts about Carey shifted to a back burner as other concerns demanded my attention, namely the reappearance of Agent Carson, the FBI agent who had been Thrasher’s partner on the Fitz case. He never approached me, but after a while, it seemed as though every time I turned around I would see him looming in the distance, watching me outside of school, at the diner, the movie theatre. I felt certain he was trying to catch me alone. Sure that I didn’t want to know why, I kept myself surrounded by my friends and Carey, never giving the agent a chance to make contact. I mentioned my fears to my father, and while he was concerned, when days went by and nothing happened, he told me not to worry, that Carson was probably just following up with Fitz’s case. I accepted this explanation because I wanted everything to stay normal, but a tiny seed of fear in the back of my brain kept growing and I woke up in the night, panicked and sweating, sure that Carson’s face was peering in my bedroom window. I wished more than ever that I had chosen Carson to download, not his absent partner.

  After school was let out early on Friday for staff development or something, V.J. and I went shopping for Halloween costumes for the party the following night. She was beyond excited, claiming that Halloween was a big deal in Pound. I hadn’t celebrated Halloween since the accident, so I was without a costume for the party, which, as far as I could tell, it seemed the whole school was attending. When I explained my dilemma to V.J. Friday morning, she insisted we drive to the mall in Hamilton where there was a seasonal costume shop.

  “The selection will be pretty picked over by now,” she explained apologetically as we got out of her car at the entrance to the mall, which boasted a Bath & Body Works, Victoria’s Secret, and American Outfitters, as well as an inordinate number of craft stores. Hamilton was not Manhattan.

  “That’s ok. I don’t really have anything in mind. I’m sure I can find something simple.” V.J. gave me a doubtful look and led the way to the store, which was located near the back of the mall, away from the gargantuan Wal-Mart that took up at least half the building. Still marveling at the presence of the super store in a shopping mall, I was taken aback by the window dressing for “Luther’s Costume Emporium.” It included a ghoulish looking mannequin decked out as a grim reaper, the plastic scythe held menacingly toward passersby, its skeleton hand on the head of a kneeling mannequin made to look like some kind of fairy prostitute in the skimpiest outfit I’ve seen outside Miami Beach.

  “Uh, I don’t know about this, V.J.,” I stated nervously, thinking that whatever costumes were left were probably way outside my comfort zone.

  “What? Oh, the display. Yeah, Luther’s a weird guy. But I promise there will be some decent costumes in here. You don’t have to go as the reaper,” she giggled and I relaxed a bit.

  We went into the store, which was strewn with fake cobwebs and heavy drapes; plastic spiders and skeletons lurked in the corners like some macabre welcoming committee. It wasn’t a large space, probably reserved for seasonal shops like this with limited merchandise, but it seemed particularly cramped, stuffed as it was with last minute shoppers and an abundance of costumes hanging on racks and tucked away in transparent bags that advertised being a “sexy Elvira,” “hysterical chicken,” and even “Mistress of the Night
.” I shuddered and turned away, pretty sure that nothing in those plastic bags would work for me. Seeing a clearance rack, I made a beeline for it, thinking I could maybe get a cape and go as a female Zorro or something, when a six foot tall figure in a priest’s robes with a skeleton mask loomed over me.

  I gave an embarrassing little squeal and bumped into V.J. She laughed and steadied me, holding my arm. I was glad I had on my customary long sleeves and gloves; I really didn’t want to download V.J. I liked her too much to know everything about her. The black polyester nightmare in front of me spoke in a surprisingly high-pitched male voice, though I imagined he was going for something more menacing than Kermit the Frog on helium.

  “Welcome ladies, to the pit of despair, the chamber of darkness, the…” he paused uncertainly. “Hmm, what was the other thing? Anyway, how can I help you?” I smothered a laugh as the employee messed up his opening lines and V.J. told him in all seriousness that I was looking for a Halloween costume and didn’t want anything slutty or dumb. The skeleton-priest nodded understandingly and gestured for us to follow him to a little curtained-off section in the back where a variety of outfits hung. This section looked more like a vintage costume shop rather than the commercial atrocity of the rest of the store.

  “Much better,” V.J. murmured as she fingered a long yellow gown that looked like something out of The Pirates of the Caribbean. I zeroed in on a black beaded flapper dress with generous amounts of fringe in layers all over it that would flare and whirl if the wearer took it into their head to spin around. I had never worn anything like it and I desperately wanted to, but there would be far too much bare skin showing in a dress like that for me. I would download anyone who happened to bump into me if I wore it. Sighing a little, I looked around for something more suitable, something that covered me from neck to toe.