Never Let Go

by C. M. Stunich

  “In the hot tub?” he asks, and I feel my skin heating up at just the thought – and not because of the water.

  “In your dreams,” I respond flippantly, trying to focus on the movie and not on the feeling of his body against mine.

  “You are my dreams,” he says to which I have absolutely zero comeback for.

  12

  “Party's here, bitches!” Never's friend Lacey calls out as she walks in the front door arm in arm with another girl. They're like polar opposites of one another – Lacey is blonde haired and blue eyed, like a Barbie doll or something, while her girlfriend has dark hair, brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face. They look cute together, like each person's features were made to complement the other's.

  I smile at them and sit up, stretching my arms above my head and trying not to freak out at the fact that I can hear another car pulling up the long stretch of gravel driveway. Beth. There's nobody else that's coming today, so it has to be her. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. She's going to touch the side of my face and ask me how finals went, and I'm going to have to look her right in the eyes and lie to her. Beth has these mystical, magical, mysterious eyes that force people to tell the truth. I've seen it happen. More than once. Even though she's only four years older than me, it feels like she's had decades more experience.

  “Holy fuck,” I don't realize I've said the words out loud until Noah leans forward and brushes his cheek against mine. I can feel my body warming up for an encore to the session we started in the woods and force myself to pull away before he can feel how hard my nipples have gotten. Embarrassing.

  “Holy fuck what?” he asks me, but I'm already shaking my head, trying to focus on Never hugging her friend and berating her for being late instead of on the fiasco that happened on that football field.

  “I was about to call the state troopers and ask if they'd seen your car abandoned in a ditch somewhere. You should've been here hours ago.” Lacey and her girlfriend – Trini, I think her name is – exchange a glance and then burst into giggling fits. Never rolls her eyes and scoots out of the way, so Ty and Lacey can squeal and hug each other.

  “How was the trip?” he asks as I sit up and notice that Noah's still watching me. He can sense that something's wrong. The asshole is just empathetic like that, I guess. I ignore him and stand up, so I can introduce myself.

  “Okay, everyone, this is Lacey and her girlfriend Trini. Ladies, these are my sisters, Jade, Lettie, Lorri, and Zella.” Never points each of us out in turn. “And our host, Noah Scott.”

  “Ooh,” Lacey says, elbowing my sister in the arm and winking at her. “The Noah Scott, huh? She turns to him with a radiant smile as he stands up and moves forward to offer his hand. “I love your poetry, Noah. Trini and I have been keeping up with you online.”

  “Thank you,” he says sincerely, shaking each of their hands in turn and then stepping back. “Just knowing you took the time to read it makes me happy.” I feel my cheeks flush with pride and find myself wishing for the millionth time that Noah wasn't such a sweetheart. It would definitely make my life easier if he were an asshole.

  Beth's entrance into the house keeps me from ruminating on my favorite subject and suddenly, I feel like there's a noose around my neck, choking the life out of me. I swear to God, her eyes swing right to me.

  “Good evening everyone,” she says cheerfully, balancing Autumn on one hip and dragging Maple and Darla along behind her. In just a couple of minutes, the house descends into the usual chaos, and I find myself frozen in the middle of all of it, barely able to put my arms around my little sister and niece to hug them. Don't look at me, don't welcome me back, don't ask about school.

  Beth sets her purse down, hands the baby off to Jade, and then does all three of those things, almost simultaneously. She's talking to me, looking at me, standing next to me, but I stare past her and watch as India comes in, dragging a couple of suitcases. She sees me looking and raises an eyebrow.

  “Welcome home, Zel,” Beth says, reaching out to touch my brown curls with her fingers. “How did your finals go yesterday? It's unusual to have the last day be on a Monday, isn't it?” I find my throat's so dry I can barely speak. I am a crappy liar.

  I snap my gaze up to her face, find her red lips starting to turn down into a frown. All over Beth's face, I see the signs of how exhausted she is. There are bags under her eyes, carefully concealed with makeup but still visible, lines of stress etched onto either side of her mouth. Her hair is clean and combed, but the ends are starting to split and she's in desperate need of a haircut. I feel even worse now than I did on Monday.

  “I don't know,” I say, feeling my chest constrict. “I'm not sure.” Actually, I am sure. The last day of finals was supposed to fall on Friday, but you know, there was a game that day and it was a real, big important one, so the student council presented a plan to the administration to have our last day of tests moved, promising to supplement the additional cost of another school day with fundraising. They met their goal, the administration approved, and voila. Football wins again. “Things went fine, I guess. I think I missed a few questions on my Arts of Japan exam. There were a few tricky ones about the Yayoi period.” I actually did take that test, on Thursday, before everything went to shit. I probably got an A. An A that doesn't mean shit now. Hopefully I can get my credits transferred somewhere else, start over again. As soon as I figure out how to pay for that little excursion, of course.

  “I'm sure you did fine,” Beth says, reaching down and squeezing my arm affectionately before moving away in a whirl of floral skirts and children and sisters. I watch her carefully, like I always do, trying to pick out each and every little thing that she does differently than my mother. They have similar looks, that's true, everyone in this family does, but they walk differently. Beth moves like she has a purpose while Angelica strolls carelessly. When Darla or Maple grab onto Beth's skirt or hand or leg, she stops and bends down to talk with them. If they need her, she's there.

  I take a deep breath.

  “You're hiding something,” Noah whispers, making me jump. I hadn't realized he'd moved back to the couch. He touches his fingers to the back of my hand, forcing me to look at him. “Anything you want to talk about?” I raise my eyebrow and give him a skeptical look.

  “You seem awfully interested in talking lately. Are you sure you're a guy? I thought you people figured out your feelings with fists and noncommittal grunting.”

  “Only when we're not dragging women back to our caves by the hair,” Noah says, his lips way too close to mine. I laugh and accidentally brush my mouth against his, sending us both scooting back an inch in shock. I feel the tingling remnants of electricity crawling across my face.

  “Hey.” I look up to see India standing next to us, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted to one side. She's wearing this fancy purple dress covered in silver spirals. The outer layer of fabric is some swishy chiffon stuff that moves with her, fluttering like lace, while the slip underneath clings to her curves and reminds me that my sisters aren't going to stay little forever. “I brought your book back.” India hands Noah a binder that I know all too well. It's his poetry binder, stuff that he's just finished and is letting 'breathe' while he figures out how he wants to rip it apart and build it anew. It was my idea for him to keep one of these books, to print out his poems when they were raw and fresh and stick them in here, so that when he tore into them on the computer, he could always come back and see what they used to look like.

  I swallow hard and resist the urge to reach out and snatch it away from them.

  “I especially like the one about the ghostwriter,” she says, smiling. I cross my arms over my chest and try not to get jealous. I haven't exactly made myself available for conversation lately. Of course I haven't heard the stupid poem yet, but I could, if I wanted to. I glance over at Noah and see him staring down at the cover with a smile on his face.

  “So you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately?” I ask, feeling lik
e I want to hate Noah, scrambling for a reason in my brain to despise him, so I can never be happy. It's the fate of our family. We were born to suffer. I try to figure out the best way to emphasize that India's still only seventeen, that Noah's twenty-two.

  “Oh my God, Zella,” India says, squeezing her fists tight near her chest and clenching her jaw. “You are so goddamn dense sometimes.” Noah rests his elbow on his right knee and leans his head into his hand, watching our exchange with another bemused smile. I guess the joke's on me here. She reaches down, grabs hold of the binder and practically throws it into my lap. “Ugh.” She pretends to throttle me. “You make me want to choke the shit out of you.”

  “Language,” Beth says to India, even though I'm pretty sure I've heard Ty McCabe say fuck a half dozen times since she walked in here. “And everybody get cleaned up for dinner. We're having a nice family meal tonight. My treat.”

  Audible groans punctuate the room and Never clamps a hand over her mouth. I watch in sympathy as she stumbles away to the downstairs bathroom. Ty McCabe watches her go, eyes locked onto her back like a hawk. He's so protective, but not in a creepy, stalkerish sort of way. It's endearing. I glance over at Noah and see that his brows are pinched tight. Crap. I hope Never didn't want to keep this pregnancy a secret for long because I doubt it'll stay hidden. If she runs to the bathroom every two seconds like that, somebody's bound to figure it out.

  “Read the damn book and stop second guessing yourself,” India barks, making me jump and redirecting my attention back to her. She leans down to whisper in my ear. “I watch ESPN sometimes. Saw your boyfriend's little feature on the ticker. University Star Player's Ex Attempts Drug Scandal.” India stands up and yawns, stretching her arms innocently over her head as she spins away from me. I can feel my lips thinning into a line.

  “Feel free to take the book, Zella. India says studying poetry helps her write new songs. She asked if she could see some of my stuff and I said yes. The relationship that she and I have is nothing like ours.”

  “But I ran away,” I whisper, feeling the emotions and the pain come bubbling up out of nowhere. I duck my head and run my fingers over the plastic cover of the binder, flipping open to a random page. I just happen to land on a poem titled simply Ghostwriter, the one India mentioned. A few tears threaten to squeeze out of my eyes, but I fight them back, ignoring the single wet plop that hits the words in front of me. Why do I have to be doing this right here, right now? With all of these people around? My most intense emotions always seem to attack when they can do the most damage, when I'm not alone to wail and cry and scream to my heart's content. I fight them back and try to read the words through the blurry haze in my eyes.

  I feel like my life's being written by a ghostwriter,

  My words, my breath, twisted and spun away on the wind,

  Stolen away from me after an ill-fated one-nighter,

  Overshadowed by a ghostly hand that's desperate to rescind,

  To take my heart and feelings and erase them away with the wrong side of a pen,

  Only one thing's stopping me from letting it all go,

  Only one face haunts my nights and then,

  Steals my dreams away in the bright light of day's first glow.

  I slam the binder closed and stand up, tucking it under my arm and turning to toss Noah a false smile over my shoulder. My heart is thumping painfully against my rib cage, wracking my bones from the inside out. They're vibrating so hard that I feel like they might dance away, like a Halloween caricature, go spinning off into the night by themselves to leave me a bloody, useless puddle on the floor of the cabin.

  “Be right back,” I whisper and then I take off, heading for the downstairs bathroom and Never Nicholas Ross, the only one of us smart enough to change her name. I grab her arm and drag her into the rec room at the end of the short hallway. I realize my exit was hardly smooth, but now my lower lip is quivering and there are fat tears hanging off the ends of my eyelashes.

  “Are you okay?” Never looks terrified, eyes wide and staring at me as I grab onto her hand and force her to accept the binder from me. I wipe the tears away with my fingers and curse myself for throwing this at her when it should be the other way around, should be me asking if she's okay. I told you I was selfish. I'm selfish and immature and stupid and I think too much and too hard about silly things.

  “Are you?” I ask, sniffling and reaching out to brush some hair back from her face. She shrugs like it's no big deal, even though it is.

  “Beth's cooking.” This explanation is enough to satisfy us both. “Now tell me, what the hell is wrong with you now? If you keep running at me like that, I'm going to end up punching Noah, and I won't even know why. What did he do?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper-shriek at her. It's an interesting combination of trying to be quiet and also of trying to express frustration. You should try it sometime. It really does help get the emotions out. “That's the fucking problem. I can't keep turning him down if I'm running out of excuses.” I gesture at the binder and Never rolls her eyes, flipping it open in her hands. The first thing I see are the Butterfly Series poems, all of which are about my sister. I reach over and flip to the Ghostwriter piece, waiting patiently for her to read it. When she's finished, she looks up at me with a raised eyebrow and sighs.

  “This is not nothing, Zella. This is something.”

  “It's about me, isn't it? I'm not just being narcissistic, am I?”

  “Considering he's only had sex twice in his life, I doubt he's talking about a different one-nighter.”

  Her statement gives us both pause.

  “What?” Never grits her teeth and sighs, closing the binder and trying to hand it back to me. My fingers don't seem to want to work. “Wait, can you please repeat that?”

  “Zella, Noah's only had sex twice ever.”

  “How do you know that?” I blurt, as she stares at me from the corners of her hazel eyes and tries not to look guilty for spilling this secret. Or at least, I presume it's a secret because I've never heard so much as a whisper about this before. “Did he tell you that? Did Noah actually say that?”

  “Yes,” Never snaps, pulling the binder back to her chest. Her eyes are fierce and strong, her posture tough as nails, but there's something about her eyes and the pallor of her skin that's still freaking me the fuck out. Since she's stubborn as a freaking nanny goat, I might have to talk to Ty about it. “Me and you, once each. That's it.”

  A weirdness settles between us, her thinking about the boy she gave up, me thinking about the boy I'll never have. Oh God.

  “Once each?” I echo and Never sighs again.

  “Once each.”

  “He's twenty-two,” I say but not like I'm upset, more like I'm baffled. He's had a whole year to be over Never, to look for other girls, to … My stomach drops out from under me, and my head spins. Never leans back against the wall and watches me carefully, studying my face with a deep intensity that promises she's digging right down through my flesh to those vibrating bones.

  “He said he might love you.” I swallow hard and glance over at the pool table, still covered up with a thick brown tarp.

  “I know. You told me that. But he says things like that all the time.”

  “I think he means them.” I sit down on the green carpet and cross my legs underneath me. Never slides down the wall to join me. “Zella, I'm going to be honest with you right now. I have no clue what you're doing here. Why are you pushing Noah away when you love him? When he loves you right back? I don't get it.”

  “Because he loves you more,” I whisper. There, I've said it. It feels good to get it off my chest. “He loves you more and he always will. At the very best, I can only be a replacement for the girl he loved and lost. Never, we're sisters. It's already creepy enough that we slept with the same guy.”

  “It isn't creepy at all,” she snaps back at me, throwing the binder at my legs and leaning forward. “Sex isn't everything, Zella. It doesn't mean fucking everything.
It's about the feelings and the emotions that go along with it. I love Ty. I'm in love with Ty. I can't be with Noah, too.”

  “Can't,” I whisper, hating her choice of words. “You can't be with him, even though you want to be.” Never growls low in her throat and stands up suddenly, stumbling a little and righting herself before I can make it to my feet or call out for Ty. I follow her up and stand wearily nearby, waiting to see if she's going to stumble again. She doesn't. I know I'm being a selfish brat now, I get it, but I can't seem to make myself take the words back.

  “Make your own choices, Zella, but don't cut off your nose to spite your face.”

  “Never,” I say as she turns to go. I force myself to take a few, careful breaths. “I'm still glad you're back. I missed you more than anyone else, I think. I … I'm sorry I'm such a fucking wiener.” She pauses, thinking for a moment, and then smiles.

  “I missed you, too, Zel. More than you ever could've imagined.” She moves towards the door and pauses with her hand on the knob. “Ask me sometime soon to tell you my story, my whole story. Maybe you need to hear it?” She starts to open the door when it pushes inward of its own accord, forcing her back a step.

  It's Ty.

  “Hey, sorry, I was eavesdropping,” he says, like it's no big deal. Never rolls her eyes but slides her fingers around his neck, pressing her face to his chest. Ty looks over at me, eyes searching. I nod my head, almost imperceptibly and his hands tighten around her waist. “Let's go feed Noah,” he says softly, laying his cheek against the top of her scalp. “Baby Noah that is. There's no way I'm letting Big Noah put your tit in his mouth.” I snort and cover my mouth to hold back the laughter as I bend down and grab the binder from the floor.

  “I'm not breastfeeding right now. I don't feel like it.” Never pulls back and glares at Ty, like she's challenging him to fight her on this. “My right side is fucking killing me. I think I have cramps or something.”