A Bird on a Windowsill

by Laura Miller

  I stare at her. She’s not paying any attention to me anymore. She just keeps stuffing what looks as if it’s her clothes into a cloth bag.

  This just might be the best or the worst night of my life. Hell, I guess, it could be both.

  And with that thought, my mind immediately changes gears.

  “Okay,” I say, shifting in my seat so I can see out the back window.

  My heart is pounding. I let the truck mostly roll back down the hill, and then once I hit the gravel road, I turn the lights back on and quickly step on the gas.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Hogan’s slab?” she both says and asks, at the same time.

  “Sounds good.”

  That’s all I say. And after a few moments, she finishes fiddling with her bag and looks up at me.

  “You sure no one’s going to realize you’re gone?”

  She shakes her head. “Whitney’s talking to her boyfriend in her room. They’ll be on the phone all night. And honestly, I haven’t seen Mom or Dad for a week now. They’ve been busy doing whatever it is you do when you move across the country.”

  “Like pack?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you have to pack?”

  I try to conceal my smile.

  “I’m already finished.”

  “Already?”

  “Yeah, I stuck it all in four boxes. Two for me. And two for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yeah, when I come back, I’m going to need my stuff.”

  “You’re coming back?”

  “Eventually,” she sighs.

  Something in me leaps to life.

  “When I turn eighteen, I can do whatever I want,” she adds.

  I look over at her.

  “I’d like that—if you came back.”

  She smiles at me. And my eyes just rest in her green sea. It’s a good moment. But it ends all too soon when the creek comes into view and I pull off to the side of the road and softly tap the brakes.

  And as soon as I get the truck turned off, she jumps out and slams the door behind her. And I just watch, motionless, as she dances in that sandy road. Sometimes, I still can’t believe she’s that same little girl that used to steal all my gummy worms when I wasn’t looking.

  I follow her with my eyes, until she reaches the edge of the concrete slab and then drops her towel.

  Just then, I sit up straight and freeze in my seat.

  She’s got some kind of little swimsuit bottoms on, but she’s not wearing any top.

  My breath gets stuck in my throat. I try to swallow, but I can’t. And then I sit there for a second, wondering what I should do, until something lights a fire under my ass, and I pull on the door latch and jump out of the truck.

  Within seconds, I’m at the slab, just as she’s jumping in.

  Water splashes up and soaks into my jeans and tee shirt. And then her head comes back up, and she’s rubbing her eyes.

  “Come on,” she says, staring back up at me.

  I don’t move. I don’t say anything. I just stand there.

  She laughs. “Eben, come on.”

  That’s all the coaxing I need. In the next breath, I snap out of my trance, and just like that, I’m kicking off my shoes and pulling off my tee shirt. She watches me as I do it. And as soon as I’ve got my jeans pulled off, I jump into the water next to her.

  Immediately, I suck in a quick breath. The water’s ice cold. “What are we doing?” I laugh through my pain.

  “Skinny dipping,” she says. “I always wanted to try it.”

  “But we’re not...”

  She holds up a tiny pair of swimsuit bottoms.

  I feel my eyes grow wide.

  “Savannah Catesby, you’re gonna kill me yet.”

  She tosses the bottoms, and they land on the slab. And then she gives me a prodding look.

  “Okay,” I say.

  I take off my boxers and throw them onto the slab, too. I’m happy, for my sake, this old creek water is kind of murky, but then again, looking at her, I also wish it weren’t.

  I smile at her, and she gives me a proud look back.

  I can’t help but laugh at that.

  “Girl, it is sixty-five degrees, and this water’s even colder. You couldn’t have picked to do this in July?”

  She laughs, and her voice carries over the water and lingers in the misty air.

  “But I won’t be here in July.”

  My smile starts to fade, but hers stays.

  “Are you cold?” she asks.

  “Yeah, hell yeah, I’m cold.”

  “You wanna get out?”

  That’s a trick question. Half of me wants to get the hell out of this freezing water and put my dry clothes back on, but the other half realizes that I’m also next to Savannah Catesby, and she just so happens to be...naked.

  “I’m getting out,” she says.

  “What?” I laugh. “Already?”

  “It’s freezing in here,” she screams.

  I watch, with a smile on my face, as she swims to her towel and climbs out of the water. She’s pretty crafty at getting that towel around her so fast, but I do manage to steal a quick glance at her upper thigh before she’s all covered up.

  “I brought you a towel, too,” she says, turning my way.

  I quickly drop my gaze before finding hers again.

  She just gives me a playful, scolding look, before she grabs her little cloth bag and pulls out a towel.

  “Here,” she says, holding it out to me, “unlike yourself, I won’t look.”

  I try to hide my mischievous smile, as she turns her face. I’d hesitate, but it’s too damn cold to be self-conscious.

  I pull myself back up onto the concrete slab and wrap the towel around my waist.

  And then she faces me again and lets out a soft, desperate scream. “I’m so cold,” she squeals, crossing her arms against her chest. “I feel like a human Popsicle.”

  I laugh. She looks so cute. Her hair is slicked back, and there are little beads of water on her long eyelashes.

  “But you’re a cute little human Popsicle, at least.”

  She shivers some more.

  “Here,” I say. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her. She lets me do it, but she keeps her arms crossed over her chest. And she probably doesn’t even think anything of it, but feeling her warm skin against mine makes me think back to when we were kids and arm wrestling and playing Red Rover and all those thumb wars. Her skin on mine didn’t matter a hill of beans back then. But now...it makes my senses come alive.

  She squeals, as she shivers some more. I squeeze her tighter. And then, she grows quiet. And I hold her there for a few more long, silent moments, until her eyes travel up to mine.

  She’s got a smile on her face. I want to kiss her. And something tells me she’d kiss me back.

  “Um.”

  I hear her voice, and I loosen my hold on her.

  “Maybe we should get dressed,” she says.

  I can tell she’s nervous. I’ve known Vannah too long not to know what she’s feeling.

  My heart sinks a little in my chest.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe.”

  She walks over to her bag and pulls out some dry clothes. And then she turns back to me.

  “Can you, uh, maybe turn that way?” she asks, pointing behind me.

  “Uh, yeah, of course.”

  I turn around and go to my boxers and jeans and tee shirt, which are strewn about the concrete. And as she puts her clothes back on, I shake out the sand and throw on mine, too.

  And when I turn around again, she’s sitting on the edge of the slab—fully clothed—dangling her feet over the side.

  I press the towel to my head and rub it into my hair, and then I take a seat beside her.

  “Do you see how the moon makes the water light up?” she asks.

  I look at the creek water and notice the moonlight reflecting off of it.

  I nod. “I do.�
�

  She keeps her eyes on that light, so I do, too.

  “That’s why I like it here,” she says.

  I take my eyes off the water, and instead, focus on her. She’s got this look in her eyes. And if you didn’t know her, you’d probably guess it were wonder. But I know it’s something more like wander, instead. Her mind is wandering...through tunnels and caves and old, abandoned sheds we used to find out near my house when we were little. And if I had to guess, I’d guess it was also wandering through the future...through times we haven’t even had yet.

  “I’m guessing you’ve been here before, at night, I mean?” I ask, breaking her silence.

  I force my eyes back to the creek water, but I can feel hers on me.

  “I have,” she says, softly, returning her attention to the moonlight.

  “I’m just going to pretend it wasn’t with him.”

  I feel her eyes on me again, and this time, I look at her.

  “Okay,” she whispers. A roguish smile stretches across her face.

  “Vannah, did you like him?”

  She breathes in, holds the breath in her lungs for a few beats and then forces it out.

  “I did.”

  I nod. “But I mean, did you really like him?”

  She presses her hands against the concrete slab and leans back.

  “I thought I did.” There’s a pause, and the air between us grows thick. “But maybe I didn’t.”

  I try to conceal my thankful sigh by bringing my fist to my mouth.

  “Because I didn’t want to spend my last month here with him,” she adds.

  Her words hit my ears and somehow melt my heart. And even after it turns quiet, I just keep replaying her last sentence in my head, until a question takes hold of my thoughts and won’t let go.

  “Why do you call me Eben?”

  She meets my gaze, and a smile starts to crawl across her sun-tanned face. “For Ebenezer.”

  “No, I mean, but why not just call me Salem?”

  “Because everyone needs a nickname.”

  I push my cheek out with my tongue while I try not to smile. “But you’ve never called anyone but me by another name.”

  Her head spins back toward me. There’s a look of surprise or shock or awe on her face—I can’t tell which.

  “What? That’s not true.”

  I shrug. “Not your sister. Not Tracy. Not Julain. Not Lindsay. Not even him.”

  I watch her eyebrows knit together, as her attention goes back to that moonlight creeping up the creek.

  She’s quiet for almost a whole minute.

  “I...,” she starts but then stops. “I don’t know why I call you Eben.”

  She looks back at me with a wide smile on her face. “And I don’t know how you know that no one else has a nickname.”

  “Vannah.” I sit back and laugh. “I’ve been right here by your side all your life. Why wouldn’t I know that?”

  Her top teeth press into her bottom lip, but she still doesn’t say a word.

  “Well, why do you think I call you Eben?”

  I look down at our feet and think about it.

  “I think it’s because you like me.”

  She finds my eyes.

  “Salem Ebenezer!”

  She pushes her shoulder into mine and then smiles and falls back against the concrete.

  I carefully let a breath escape my lungs, and then I look back at her when she doesn’t sit back up. Her focus is on that black sky now, and she’s just smiling away.

  We’ve been friends for a long time. And I know that’s hard to break. I just wonder if she’ll ever be able to see past it.

  “Look at the stars with me,” she says, never taking her eyes off the sky.

  I lean back, and after tossing a small rock out of the way, I fold my hands under my head and look up, too.

  “You have two choices,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  “You can fly to the moon and see the stars up close, and you can look down and see the whole world and all its oceans and lights and people...”

  Her words trail off.

  “But?” I ask.

  “But,” she starts, “you can’t come back.”

  “Or?” I ask.

  “Or, you can stay right here.”

  I smile. “That’s easy.”

  She turns her face my way.

  “I’d stay right here,” I say.

  “But you could see the world, literally.”

  I shrug it off. She’s my world, but of course, those words never leave my mouth.

  “Here is just fine,” I say, instead.

  She looks at me with a half-questioning look, and then she leans my way and rests her head on my chest.

  I almost stop breathing. I wasn’t expecting that. I try to calm myself as she wraps her arm around me.

  “I’m glad you always forgot your lunch,” she whispers.

  I smile into the gentle breeze. “I’m glad you always brought yours.”

  I hear her laugh softly, as she nuzzles more into my chest. And I pray that she doesn’t hear my wild heartbeat. And I pray, too, that that full moon has a hard time finding the sun on the other side of the world—because I’m okay with this night lasting a little while longer.

  Eben: You awake?

  Vannah: Yep

  Eben: Did you get in trouble with your parents?

  Vannah: No. They didn’t even notice.

  Eben: How? It’s 3 a.m.!

  Vannah: I said I was with you.

  Eben: I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.

  Vannah: Oh, don’t worry. They still think you’re sexy. They just trust you.

  Eben: That’s weird.

  Vannah: Lol!

  Vannah: I had fun tonight.

  Eben: Me too.

  Vannah: I can’t sleep. Will you tell me a story??

  Eben: About what?

  Vannah: Anything

  Eben: Okay

  Eben: Once upon a time, there was this boy, and one day, he met this beautiful girl, with long blond hair and a pretty nice butt.

  Vannah: :)

  Eben: And turns out, this girl could grant one wish to the boy.

  Vannah: A wish-granting girl? Like a genie?

  Eben: Yeah. But just one wish. Not three.

  Vannah: Eben??

  Eben: To be continued...

  Vannah: Okay, fine! Good night, E.

  Eben: Sweet dreams, V.

  Chapter Ten

  Savannah

  (Sixteen Years Old)

  Day 4,028

  “Eben.”

  I tap on his window. The room is completely dark, and his blinds are closed. I can’t see anything.

  “Eben,” I whisper. I tap some more.

  All of a sudden, the blinds lift, and there’s a dark figure in the window.

  “Vannah?”

  “Shh.”

  “What are you doing?” He acts as if he’s whispering this time, but I can’t really hear him. I can only read his lips.

  “Hold on,” he mouths.

  He leaves the window, and a few moments later, I hear his front door squeak open.

  I shimmy out of the peony bushes and head to the front porch. But I stop when I see him.

  He’s just standing there. He’s barefoot, shirtless. The only thing clinging to his skin is an old pair of black sweatpants.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  His laughter breaks my concentration on his shirtless self. And I must be giving him a funny look because now he’s wearing a playful smile.

  “What?”

  “You’re cute.” I just say it, matter-of-fact.

  He smiles. It’s bashful, but I expected that.

  “Okay...thanks?”

  I nod and smile, too.

  “Vannah, it’s midnight.”

  “Yeah, but it’s Saturday.”

  He seems to think about it and then nods. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point.”

  W
e stand there for a moment, staring at each other. I think he’s waiting on me to tell him the plan for tonight. But I don’t really have a plan. And the longer we stand here, the more I think he realizes that.

  “Come to the dock with me.”

  He lowers his head. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “All right.”

  He turns back and closes the door and then makes his way down the porch steps, still barefoot, still shirtless.

  “Do you really think I’m cute?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I think so.”

  His soft chuckle fills the space between us.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  I laugh, partially because he has this new air of confidence, all of a sudden.

  “I mean, I see you every day, and I see...you,” I say. “I just think I rarely stop to see what body you’re in.”

  “So, I’m in a good body?”

  “Yeah. You’re in a good body.”

  He smiles proudly.

  We get to the dock and walk to the end of it, and then we both just stop and stare out into the water.

  “You think they’ll have docks like this in South Carolina?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I reckon they do. Only instead of lakes, they’ve got an ocean. So, it’ll be better than this dock.”

  I look up at him. “I don’t think so.”

  I sit down and dangle my feet off the edge, and seconds later, he does, too.

  “I don’t think anything can be better than this,” I say.

  The water is dark, like black diamonds, glistening in the moonlight.

  “Plus, there are no Ebens on those boat docks in South Carolina.”

  He smiles. “You don’t think?”

  “Probably not,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You could always stay. You could stay here...with me. You know, Mom wouldn’t mind.”

  “I know, but mine would. I’ve got to go, Eben.”

  He lets out a long, defeated sigh. “I know. I know you do.”

  I find his eyes. They’re warm and light. They feel like sunrays and look like the color of sand. And the way he’s looking at me now, I know he wants to kiss me. I can see it, but more so, I can feel it. And I want to kiss him back. But where would that leave us?

  I feel a little piece of my heart tearing for us...for him...for me. I’ve always had a thing for Salem Ebenezer. But when I was little, I didn’t know what it meant, and when I was old enough to know what it meant, I feared he didn’t feel the same way. And now... And now, it doesn’t matter anymore.