“Quit trying to eat me and drink your water.”
I let her go and thank her for the drink. Willa settles in while I sip it. She lies down next to me this time instead of sitting against the headboard.
“How was your first shift?” I set the glass aside and roll back to her. Willa shrugs.
“The job is pretty straightforward. Mrs. Elwood is nice. Chris is…”
“Chris.”
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t say anything about the hand I rest across her stomach.
“Did you come over here right after?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t awake to greet you.”
“It’s alright. I like watching you sleep.”
I sit up on my elbow so I can see her face better. “Did I really say ‘pizza’?”
“Yeah. You must have heard me giggle, too, because you followed that up with ‘Olives. Don’t let that fucker have any.’” She giggles again and I lower myself down from my elbow, lying much closer to her this time.
“I must have been talking about Eric. He hates olives.”
“Is that so?”
I give Willa a squeeze. “Thanks for coming over. You really do cheer me up.”
Willa knits her fingers with the ones I have wrapped around her side. “I had a motive, you know.”
“Hmmm?”
Please let it be a good one.
“I’m a little embarrassed about how I freaked out on Sunday. It wasn’t you—something my brother said made me think, and I psyched myself out. I shouldn’t have taken it all out on you.”
I give her hand a friendly squeeze. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I shouted at you. And about the phone message. And hanging up on you. And the smoking. Fucking-A, why the hell are you still friends with me?”
That makes me snort. “You have a certain charm, believe it or not. That, and you feed me.”
“Seriously, though, I am sorry for all that.”
“Apology accepted.”
Willa rubs her thumb along my palm, careful of the bandages. She doesn’t ask what happened but wants to know if it hurts.
“Not much. It’s just small cuts.”
“You have beautiful fingers,” she says. Her voice is far away, like she’s talking to herself.
“Did you mean it when you said you liked me?”
“Yeah.” The corner of her mouth twitches up in an approximation of a smile. “I guess I do.”
“I guess I like you too.” I give her another squeeze. “Do you want to maybe…?”
“What?”
“I dunno. Date?”
“You mean, do the couple thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, call each other boyfriend/girlfriend and stuff?”
“The two generally go hand in hand, yes.” I wonder too late if that was a bad choice of phrase.
Willa wrinkles her nose. “How about we agree just to see each other?”
It’s difficult not to let my disappointment show. I try to appreciate her reluctance, but the result is still the same. Her acceptance comes twinned with rejection, and as good as the former feels, the latter stings in sensitive spots.
“That’s all you want right now?”
“Yeah.” Willa sighs with what sounds like regret.
“Don’t promise me anything.”
“I don’t want to promise you nothing, either.” She turns her head to look at me. “I do like you. I’m just not good at this stuff.”
I tighten my fingers around her side. “We’ll go slow, if that’s what you want.”
“What I want and what I can stand aren’t always the same thing.”
I have no idea what she means by that, and I have a feeling she wouldn’t explain even if I asked.
“So…seeing each other?”
“Agreed.”
I lean over to kiss her and Willa dips her head to the side, giving me easier access to her mouth. It feels good to know that she enjoys kissing me. She even wraps an arm around my side, mirroring the way I hold her. I move in to deepen the kiss and she pulls away.
“Too much.”
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” She gives me another peck on the lips and then rolls away to sit up. “I should go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” She straightens her shirt around her torso and picks up her bag. I get out of bed to walk her to the door and she grimaces like she finds this painful.
“You’re not running away, are you?”
“Only a little,” she says quietly. Willa reaches for the doorknob and I grab her arm.
“So stay.”
“It’s almost nine. It’s a school night.”
“You’re rationalizing.”
“And it’s working.”
I fold her into a hug and she sighs softly. She won’t give up on leaving, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her go without a proper goodbye.
“I’ll walk you out.”
*
Elise yells, “Bye Willa!” as we cross the front room. Mom calls out a similar farewell from the kitchen.
“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” I open the door for her as she shrugs into her jacket.
“Yeah, school.” Willa grabs me by the front of my shirt as she steps through the door and tows me out with her. The door is barely closed behind us before she pushes me up against the wall and kisses me. And it is an entirely different kind of kiss from the one she pulled away from upstairs—it’s rough and deep enough to drown in. Her hands are everywhere, grabbing at my sides and shoulders like she can’t get close enough. I understand the feeling perfectly and pull her just as close. God, she feels good.
Willa pulls away just a suddenly as she jumped me. “I’m sorry,” she breathes.
“For what?” I would be embarrassed by my breathless state, but I can’t find the will to care just now.
Willa wipes her lips on the back of her hand. “That I’m so fucked up.” She turns around and dashes down the front steps. I watch her drive away while I collect my breath. She waves from the end of the driveway.
Holy shit.
I turn to go back inside with a smile on my face. When I open the front door, a flashbulb promptly blinds me.
“Ha!” Elise cheers, and pulls the Polaroid out of the dispenser. “Your face was perfect.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Elise makes kissy noises at me and fans herself with the Polaroid. God damn it. Elise turns on her heel and skips down the hall toward the kitchen.
“Mom! Guess what Jem just did!”
Hell no.
I race after Elise and clamp a hand over her big fat mouth. My other arm locks around her waist, holding her while she struggles.
“What?” Mom asks.
“Nothing!”
She comes to the kitchen door to investigate the scuffling sounds and finds me holding Elise hostage. Great. I hardly look innocent now.
“What’s going on?”
Elise tries to say, “He kissed Willa,” but the words are unintelligible from behind my hand.
“Let her go, Jem.”
No sooner have I released Elise than the words explode from her mouth.
“When?”
“On the porch, just now.”
“With Willa?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I can hear you, you know,” I snap at them. Mom and Elise both look up like they’re surprised to find me here.
“I didn’t know you were dating,” Mom says. A smile slowly creeps onto her face. She likes Willa, probably because she hardly knows her.
“We’re not. It’s complicated.”
“These things have a way of working themselves out.” Mom pats my cheek. “It’s about time good things started coming your way.”
Elise smugly inspects her newly developed Polaroid. I try to snatch it from her and she shoves it down her bra. God damn it.
&nb
sp; Tuesday
I pack up my homework and a magazine for the long wait at the clinic. Part of me wishes that Willa was volunteering tonight so there would be a chance that we’d run into each other. Or better yet, that she would choose to visit and keep me company during the session.
I wonder what she’s doing tonight…
Elise flings my door open without knocking and says, “Does this top work with these shoes?” Ugh, why couldn’t she have picked Eric to single out as her pseudo-sister?
“I don’t know. They’re both…nice?”
“I’ll wear my purple sweater instead.” She turns to go and I call her back.
“Where are you going?”
“To the movies with some friends.” Her answer makes me suspicious. Why didn’t she just say Carey and the other kids she sits at lunch with?
“Who?”
“Kipp and Nina and one of their friends.”
“Like a double date?”
“No, their friend is a girl.”
“You’re sure he doesn’t still think you’re a lesbian, right?”
Elise rolls her eyes at me.
“You should quit chasing him, Lise,” I tell her seriously. “You know it’s not a good situation—he’s dating someone else and leaving Smiths Falls in a few months for college. You’re setting yourself up for pain.”
“I’m not ‘chasing him’ anymore,” Elise says indignantly. “We’re friends. That’s it.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
She smiles and nods. “Yeah. A lot can happen when you’re away at college.” She winks. She isn’t ‘just friends’ with him, she’s biding her time.
“I think you’re going to be stuck standing around waiting until he’s married to this chick with the 2.5 kids and the picket fence.”
“A lot can happen in a few years—to both of us.” I hate it when her bad ideas are logically sound.
“Be careful.”
“I will.” She drums a quick beat on my doorframe and spins away with a little hop. “Besides, you know how good I am at bouncing back.”
That she is, quite unfortunately—it gives her zero motivation to stop dropping her own heart off high places. The day will come, though, when she falls too hard to bounce. I’m dreading it.
Wednesday
I go out onto the porch to wait for Willa after school. It’s a gorgeous day out. The sun is shining and it’s so warm that I probably won’t need my sweater the whole time we’re out. Slung over my shoulder is a messenger bag full of Willa’s suggestions: two Jell-O cups, a spoon, and enough medication to tide me over for at least six hours. When she told me that last one I was excited that she wanted so much time with me today.
Willa’s car rumbles up the driveway at three-thirty sharp. She’s got the windows rolled down and a smile on her face.
“Is it as good as St. John’s?” I ask her as I climb into the passenger seat. Willa leans out her window and pretends to consider the sun.
“It’s a tie.” She waves to Mom in the front window and backs out of the driveway.
“So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Willa is in her scruffy weekend outfit, so we’re probably not going out in public. She told me to wear old clothes and beat up shoes, too.
Willa sighs and adjusts her sunglasses on her nose. “Days like this, I miss my other wheels. I had to leave Kyla in St. John’s to move here.”
“You named your car Kyla?”
“So? I bet you’ve named your dick,” she says. “And Kyla’s a bike.”
I snort. “I guess this rusty shitbox is a step up from peddle-power in Newfoundland weather.”
“A motorbike. And summers there are nice. Winter doesn’t last forever.”
I try to picture Willa on a motorbike. It looks something like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. “So what, you had some cute little moped?”
“No,” she says with sarcasm and disgust. “She’s a red Harley Davidson Xr1200 Sportster. Tessa left it to me in her will.”
“And your parents let you keep it?” Most parents have better priorities set for their children, like not getting smeared across the highway.
“They wanted me to sell it, but I refused.”
I try to picture Willa on a proper motorcycle, cruising down the highway with her hair a mess behind her. I mean, come on, how many teenage girls drive motorcycles as their primary means of transportation? I imagine her pulling into the school parking lot every day; guys were probably drooling over her bike, if not her.
“You know, you’re kind of a badass,” I tell her.
Willa scoffs. “Please, if I had balls they’d be bigger than yours.”
Willa turns off the pavement and onto a secluded dirt road. We creep along that for a while until the road abruptly ends, and for some reason Willa decides that this would be a good time to shift into park and get out of the car.
“Did you take the wrong road?”
“No.” She grabs an overstuffed backpack out of the trunk. “We’re going to hike a ways. I’ve got water. I assume you brought your Jell-O.”
“Yeah, but…”
“We won’t walk far.” She squeezes my elbow. “And we’ve got all afternoon. We can go as slow as you want.”
*
Our timing is perfect—sort of. By four it’s still warm enough that the worst of the bugs have retreated, and Willa and I pass through the woods relatively unmolested. Within ten minutes of hiking I take my jacket off and tie it around my waist. I hesitate to do it, but eventually I push my long sleeves up too. Willa has already seen and touched my arms. She knows what they look like.
Willa calls a break after half an hour and fishes two water bottles out of her backpack.
“Are you doing okay?” she asks as I sip. Her fingers wrap gently around my free wrist. I would think she was just being nice and maybe even a little flirty to touch me like that, but I know it’s really a subtle way of feeling my pulse.
I lift my hand and rest two fingers against her neck. “I’m fine.” Her heart is racing. But she’s not even winded. What the—?
Willa smirks and takes my hand off her neck. She doesn’t let go, though. She keeps a loose hold on my fingers and starts walking again.
I adjust my hand to hold hers properly.
Willa measures our trek in half-hours, though that’s no way to track distance. The longer we walk, the slower my pace becomes. It’s hot and I wish I hadn’t worn a black wool hat.
Willa notices that I’m struggling and puts an arm around my back, lending me her shoulder. I would be embarrassed if this wasn’t a great opportunity to put my arm around her. I indulge my imagination in the idea of the two of us as a real couple, out for a leisurely hike…and getting touchy. Variations of this scenario occupied my thoughts before Willa picked me up today. I even patched my Hickman up in case things got…interesting.
Willa steers us over to a fallen log and makes me sit down.
“Is it the heat?” she says. She crouches in front of me and opens her backpack to dig for more water.
“Among other things.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
Willa asks if I have an undershirt beneath my tee. I tell her I’m not going to take my shirt off.
“Well the wool hat can’t be helping. Leave it off for a while.”
“No.”
“It’s not like—”
“No.”
Willa swallows whatever she was about to say. “Walk behind me,” she suggests quietly. “I won’t look.”
“Please stop.”
Willa sits back on her bottom and hangs her forearms over bent knees. “Okay. Your call.”
We stay by the log for fifteen minutes—long enough for me to eat a Jell-O cup to keep my sugars up. Willa sips at her water bottle, saying nothing. I take one of the hands that hangs over her knee and she doesn’t pull away.
“How far are we from where we
’re going?”
“Not far now. Maybe another twenty minutes at our slowest pace.” I wonder if she knows how much it means that she said ‘our’ slowest pace, not mine.
“That far?”
“Don’t quit on me now, Harper,” she teases.
“I won’t.” I squeeze her hand and she actually smiles. I didn’t know she had it in her to be this welcoming. This…happy.
I lean in to kiss her and she pulls away slightly. I’m left hanging there, bent over and lips parted for a kiss that isn’t coming.
“I’m doing the best I can,” she says. At least her tone is apologetic. I still feel like an idiot.
I sit back up and clear my throat. “Sorry. I should have, uh…”
“Kept walking? Yeah, good idea.” Willa stands abruptly and shoulders her backpack.
So much for that.
But she still lets me hold her hand.
*
“Almost there.” Somewhere nearby I can hear a creek.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
The trees break off suddenly, opening into sloping beach beside the creek. It’s sudden appearance surprises me and Willa’s hand slips from mine as she continues walking.
“Frank used to take me here when I was little. There used to be trees all the way up to the bend,” she points to where the creek winds away from sight, “but there was a fire here a few years ago—lightning strike on a pine. So now it’s all sand and dirt.”
I look around at the gap in the trees, at the dark brown sand and river-smoothed pebbles. It’s beautiful, but I can’t shake the thought that this place is one giant scar.
Willa stops and turns to me with a curious expression. “You coming? I brought us a little picnic.”
*
It’s amazing how much Willa managed to fit in her backpack. An old bed sheet is our picnic blanket. To drink she brought two bottles of orange and mint iced tea, and the ‘food’ fits in three thermoses. Willa laughs at my enthusiasm as I open each one and smell the contents. One is vegetable soup, the second is the sweet milkshake she left in my fridge on Elise’s birthday, and the third smells like raspberries.
“Appetizer, entrée and dessert,” she says proudly.
“This is great. So what are you eating?”
Wake Page 36
