by Laura Preble
“That’s him?” Carmen whispers as she folds a napkin.
I nod.
“I’ve never met him in person.”
“I’m sorry you had to be here,” I offer.
“I’m not.” Her eyes light up, and a trembling smile makes me want to kiss her.
“Chris!” McFarland saunters into the dining room and claps an all-too-familiar arm around my shoulder, keeping it there for a few too many seconds. Carmen pretends to be adjusting silverware. “Good to see you again.”
“Glad you could come over, sir,” I manage to say without looking him in the eye. Those pieces of cutlery aren’t just going to arrange themselves. I become extremely absorbed in how each knife lines up with the creased edge of the napkin.
“Sir?” he snorts. “Ouch. I hope you don’t think of me as a ‘sir’. Call me Jim.”
“Hi, Jim,” Carmen says sweetly, extending her hand. “Carmen Wilde. I think we’re both Californians, right?”
McFarland unwillingly acknowledges her intrusion and shakes her hand. “Ms. Wilde, of course I’ve heard about you, and of course, your mother. How is Alexandra? Last time I saw her, we were at a fundraiser in Sacramento, I think.”
“Probably. She’s always doing some event.” Carmen licks her lips. “If you’ll excuse me?” She walks into the kitchen and I hear her ask Warren the whereabouts of the bathroom.
She’s left me alone with McFarland. “So, Chris,” he says smoothly. “How’s school?”
“Okay.” I stare into the kitchen, unsure of what to say.
I’m saved from more useless chatter by Warren, who calls out “Dinner is served!”
Jana thunders down the stairs, surveying the situation from the third step. Her eyes meet mine, but she gives me nothing but a blank stare.
Pretty soon we’re all sitting down to dinner, the adults trading tips on wine deals and portfolio investments, the rest of us sitting silently wishing there was a kid’s table.
Anyone observing from outside would say that we had a perfectly pleasant meal among well-to-do, pretty friends; there are compliments about the roast, about the extraordinary salad dressing, the china, the house. To me, dinner feels like Russian Roulette. I keep my mouth shut, hoping that if I am silent I have less of a chance of giving myself away.
I knew that at some point, the conversation would turn political. I was hoping it would wait until dessert, but no such luck. “So, Jim, you know that Carmen here is Alexandra Wilde’s daughter,” Lainie says as she dabs her enormous red lips with a linen napkin. “Lovely wine, David. French?”
“Italian,” David answers. I see him adjust his posture so he leans forward in a power position. The game is on. “So, Carmen, are you active in the Perpendicular League on the west coast? We have a very active branch here, as you know.”
Carmen nods as she takes a drink from her water glass. “I’m here because my mother wanted me to see how the League works in other areas of the country.” She smiles warmly at Lainie. “Obviously, yours is a great example.”
Lainie smiles demurely. She reminds me of a crocodile grinning in anticipation of a fat, juicy duck. “Oh, you’re too kind.” She gestures toward my father. “Of course, we’d love to be even more involved with the Anglicant church, formally, I mean. Isn’t your mother’s group a formal voting partnership within the church?” She bats her eyes as if she hadn’t just called David out as a hands-off, Perp-loving liberal.
Carmen’s smart enough to know that we’re eating in a minefield now. She fills her mouth with rice.
“Now Lainie, we’d be more than happy to have the Perpendicular League involved in St. Aelred’s more formally,” David says with just a touch too much enthusiasm. “But we’d have to resolve the dues situation.”
At this point, I’d love to disappear into the floorboards, because the real shit slinging is going to start. This has been a fight between the two of them for as long as I remember.
Luckily, dinner is finished; in an effort to buzzkill political talk, Warren says, “Let’s all go to the parlor for some brandy. We have some dessert too, but I know there’s no way I can take another bite at the moment!”
The war of words is temporarily halted, and Lainie pastes a civil smile on her face. “That would be wonderful,” she says. “Can we help you clear?”
“Oh, no,” Jana jumps in. “My brother and I always do that. You all go ahead. We’ll clean up.”
“Wow,” David says, “this political stuff must be pretty dull if you’re willing to clear the table to avoid it.” He hugs Jana, who grins wanly but doesn’t answer.
“I’ll supervise,” Warren says. He hates the political crap as much as we do. “I don’t want you all ruining my kitchen.”
“Carmen can help,” Lainie offers. “I’m sure all of this is boring for her too.” Lainie, David, and Jim amble into the parlor, and I hear the clinking of crystal as they settle in for a good, long veiled argument. Jesus, I’m glad they’re gone.
Carmen wordlessly picks up dishes and napkins, avoiding me as she goes to the kitchen. Jana sweeps in and whispers in my ear, “That’s the girl, huh?”
I swat her away. “What do you mean?”
She leans in. “That’s the girl. That’s how you knew.”
“Jana, I don’t know what—”
The look on her face stops me. “I know, Chris. I know. Stop trying to deny it.” Her eyes blaze fiercely, with victory, with a secret, with superiority, I don’t know what. What is she going to do? She’s right. I can’t deny it. I’m a really bad actor.
“Relax. I’m not going to turn you in or anything.” She glances into the parlor, then says, “I want to help you.”
“Why would you do that?” I pick up the butter dish and nearly let it slip to the floor.
“Because I understand.” She puts a hand on my arm. “I understand, Chris. Get it?”
I’ve never been any good at reading people, or getting messages from between the lines. It’s probably why I have so few friends. But I swear, I think she’s telling me that maybe she’s the same way. Is that possible?
Carmen takes the breadbasket and salt and pepper into the kitchen, and I follow her. She gazes out the window near the sink. “You can see so many stars here,” she comments. “I guess because you don’t have so much ambient light. Back home, it seems like everything is lit up 24 hours a day.”
“California never closes,” Warren says as he shuts the refrigerator door with his hip. “We were there once, Chris. Do you remember?”
“The national park?” I vaguely remember pine scents, massive trunks of trees, driving through the middle of a sequoia. “I think so. I was pretty little.”
“Chris thought the trees were magic castles,” Jana says as she sets down plates. “He wanted to climb one and pretend to be a knight. He carried a stick around and poked people with it, telling them to surrender to the Star Prince.” She pokes me in the side. “Go show her the telescope. It’s a clear night. You might be able to see Gemini.”
Warren waves at us. “Go on. I’m going to hide in here as long as I can. You might as well escape before someone decides you’d be useful in a conversation.”
“Wow, you sound pretty cynical,” Jana remarks as she pulls one of Warren’s apron strings. “One would almost think you find the political conversations boring.”
“No comment.” Warren sips from a glass of brandy. “I will have to make an appearance, though. You young people scatter before you’re summoned.”
The thought of taking Carmen to my room makes me sweat all over. I don’t know what I’m going to do…I guess I’ll have to show her the telescope. What else is there? I do know one thing: there will be no physical contact. I will absolutely stay away from her, and if I do that, I probably have half a chance of not losing my mind.
I go up first, and Carmen hangs back to put Jana in between us. I see the hallway, the carpet, my door, as if I’m seeing them for the first time, how she must see it.
Jana sto
ps in front of my door. “This is Chris’s lair,” she says. Thank God I cleaned it up. It’s never really messy anyway, but I dusted and picked up random books and stuff the other day, so it looks especially put together. “The telescope is out on the balcony. C’mon in!” She grabs Carmen’s arm and drags her into my room.
Through the French doors, my scope is positioned to track the best of the night sky: shooting stars, planets, constellations. I guess Gemini is up there, but I don’t want to look for it. “Nice view,” Carmen says, wrapping her arms around herself as if she’s cold.
Jana opens the doors, letting a draft of cold air into the room. “Fresh air. Nothing better.” She glances at Carmen, then says, “Geez, Chris, what kind of host are you? The girl’s freezing.”
“Oh, do you want a blanket or something?” I grab the old blue one off the edge of my bed and awkwardly hand it to her. I will not get near enough to drop a blanket around her shoulders. I will not.
“Thanks.” She shrugs into it as a gust of air blows burnt-leaf smells into the room. “Nice. I love how quiet it is.” She turns to me, her face a silhouette in ivory that makes me want to write poetry or something equally dorky.
Jana inches toward the hallway. “I’ll leave you guys alone,” she says, going for the door.
“No!” We both yell.
Jana just laughs at us. “That whole pretending you don’t feel the way you do thing? Yeah, that’s not gonna work. You might as well skip to the chase and figure out what you’re going to do. See you soon.” She closes the door, still chuckling softly.
Could she be more obvious? We’re alone, and it’s horrible. There’s a distance between us, but it pulses with something, and all I want to do is grab her and kiss her. I should just run out the door and get the hell out of here, but I don’t.
I brought her up here to show her stars, so I suppose I’d better do that. “My telescope’s not the best,” I say, adjusting the eyepiece. “But you can see a good amount of stuff.” I swivel the scope and check for something bright and beautiful.
“Orion,” she says, reading the name on the side. “The hunter. What are you hunting for?” Her eyes. God, her eyes. Even in the low light I see them bright as embers. I should run back downstairs right now.
“Just a brand name,” I mumble, moving away from her. “Just scoot down there and look through the eyepiece. You should be able to see something.”
She kneels on the thick green rug I keep near the scope and presses her eye to the focuser. “It’s all blurry,” she says, squinting her closed eye tighter. “Can you show me?”
“Uh.” Wow. What a suave bastard I am. “If you just lean in a little bit more, tilt your chin down an inch or so…” She’s trying, but she’s doing it all wrong. I step in, just to help adjust her chin. But then I’m kneeling on the green rug next to her, touching her face, and she’s not looking at the stars anymore.
She brushes my hair from my eyes. “I still can’t see anything,” she whispers. “Maybe I’m not close enough.”
“But—”
“Shh.” Her finger touches my lips, and it burns where she touches me. My heart pounds, a crazy drum, as she pulls so close I can feel her breath touching my cheek.
“We can’t do this.”
In the shadow of the balcony, her face is half lit, like a waning moon, and I blink to see if she’ll disappear. But she doesn’t. “I know,” she whispers.
“I should go.” But I don’t go. She pulls me close, and her lips are on mine, sweet, warm, full of life and passion, cherry sweet mixed with the scent of jasmine and autumn leaves in her thick, dark hair.
Waves wash over me, stars burst behind my eyes. I take her in my arms, and we ease down onto the green rug, kissing, caressing, breathing each other in like oxygen.
“Stop,” she whispers desperately. “What was I thinking? We can’t do this here. If they catch us—”
“They won’t.” I can’t stop. I nibble her ear, her delicious vanilla-cookie skin, and all the hunger I’ve stored up in my life gallops through my gut and into my head, and I don’t think I can stop. I don’t want to stop.
“Someone’s at the bedroom door!” she says, terrified. “Someone knocked!”
Her words wake me up like a bucket of ice water. Unfortunately, my lower half doesn’t get the memo. My pants won’t be able to lie about what’s been going on. “What do I do about—” I point to the obvious bulge.
“Uh…” she blinks rapidly, then looks away, embarrassed. “Kneel down by the telescope.” The knocking becomes more insistent. I kneel down, even though it’s kind of awkward.
“Give me the blanket!” I hiss. She plucks it from her shoulders and drapes it over my lap as the bedroom door opens. She jumps back as if I’m on fire.
“Chris!” It’s Jana, thank God. She might tease me, but she won’t rat me out. She makes her way to the deck. “Ah, I see you’re giving our guest the grand tour of fantastically boring Ohio.” She leans over my balcony and breathes deeply. “Just smell the conformity!”
Carmen shivers in her light shirt, and I consider giving back the blanket, but I don’t want to reveal my…occurrence. “Just looking for constellations and stuff,” I say, pretending to focus on the night sky. “Did you need something?”
“Forgot to tell you something.” She turns and studies Carmen, then glances at my lap. “He took your blanket? No manners.” She darts into my room, digs through a drawer, and retrieves a soft blue sweatshirt, which she tosses to Carmen. It’s too big on her, but it looks so cute I want to grab her again and just…well… I can’t think about it.
“Thanks,” Carmen says, smiling at me. “I think it’s charming here.”
“That’s because you don’t live here.” Jana taps the end of the telescope. “If I thought Chris could find me a better planet to head for, I’d go in a heartbeat. Or maybe Canada. Can you see Canada on this thing, Chris?” She leans over and presses her eye to the focus.
“Canada?” Carmen asks. “Why would you want to go there?”
“No reason,” Jana answers quickly. “I like moose. Moose jerky, specifically. And bacon.” She straightens herself up and grins.
“What did you forget?” I ask, my voice cracking like it did in seventh grade.
“Oh, yeah.” She puts an arm around Carmen. “I think you two should go for a walk or something. You can show her the sights of the country at night. You can go out my window and then the grownups won’t see you.” She waves behind her as she leaves, and closes the door gently. “I’ll lock this, too. Just knock if you want to escape.”
“Interesting girl,” Carmen says, stepping closer to me. “Is she…?”
“Is she what?”
She kneels next to me again and whispers, “Perpendicular.”
“Jana? No.” I’m not ready to admit that yet.
“Here.” Carmen grabs the end of the blue blanket and drapes it around her shoulder, snuggling into my lap so we’re a double-stacked mass of stargazers huddled under the fuzz. “That’s better. Now I can look at the stars and really enjoy myself.” But she doesn’t look at the stars. She turns and presses her chest to mine, and I can feel the hardness of her nipples through the thin fabric, the beating of her heart. I feel that if I can’t be part of her, I’ll die.
“Can we go for a walk? Like Jana said?” she says softly. “I know we shouldn’t…”
“Come on.” I take her hand and we stand up stiffly. When we go inside, the light seems glaringly bright.
In the hallway, the voices of the adults drift up, a tapestry of baritone and alto posing and negotiating, hopefully not about me. I knock on Jana’s door and she opens it, almost as if she’d been expecting us. “Yes?”
“Can we come in?” I glance nervously downstairs. “I’m afraid we’ll get summoned if we hang out in the hallway.” Jana opens the door wider, and motions for us to come in.
“What can I do for you?” She flops on the bed expectantly.
“We have a problem.”
Carmen crosses to the far side of the room, her arms folded against her chest again, as if she’s trying to protect herself.
“Do you?” Jana smiles. “What kind of problem?” She leans back into her pillows.
“We…Carmen and I…we need to get away and talk for awhile. In private.” I can’t look at either of them, so instead, I concentrate on the window.
Jana sighs. “All I know is you went for a walk to check out the stars. Carmen is a huge fan of astronomy, am I right?”
“Huge fan,” Carmen murmurs.
I focus on Jana, who smiles mischievously. “Go on, kids. Have a great talk.”
I lead the way to the big tree, take Carmen’s hand, and start on the road to oblivion.
Chapter 6
We run across the dark yard, making for the tree line. The lights of my house glow behind us, and I push the thought of Dad and McFarland and the Perp League out of my mind.
Past old trees with rough bark, through piles of pine needles and accumulated dead leaves, tripping on tree roots and breathing in the night air we run wildly, then slow, then finally lean against the spreading base of an old oak. Our breath makes steamy clouds in the moonlight.
I sit against the tree and pull her to me; she snuggles into my lap and leans her head on my chest. This is how it’s supposed to be. My life feels adjusted for the first time in, well, forever. Carmen caresses my hand with her thumb. “See? It’s right. Isn’t it?”
“Mm.” I bury my face in her hair and breathe in her scent mixed with the frigid night air. “I know. But we can’t…I mean, there’s no way to…be like this.”
“I know.” Carmen turns to face me. “What are we going to do?”
I pull her tighter, trying to memorize the shape of her body, the curve of her face. I know I won’t be able to do this again. This will have to the last time. The only time. “We just have to forget about it.”
