by Nora Flite
Her fingers were shaking when they gripped the zipper of her jacket, the sound rippling through the air, louder than it should have been. The scarf was tugged, unraveling until it fell into her lap; forgotten, useless.
Ever the quintessential image of proper hosts, my parents said nothing at the exposure of Leah's patterned, marred skin. The marks were healing, yet the circles of yellow and green still drew the eye. The undeniable shape made by human hands.
The visible reminder of that day, it made my stomach clench; coldness traveled down my arms. I set my fork down to avoid dropping it.
“Pass the potatoes?” My mother asked, looking in my direction. Lifting the heavy bowl, I handed it off to her, spotting the blossoming confusion on my girlfriend's face.
She isn't used to this, a family that avoids conflict.
Leah shuffled in her seat, poking at her food, her appetite gone as the conversation resumed around her. I followed it, forcing a laugh here or there.
My thoughts and focus were completely on Leah.
I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I tried to tell her with my eyes. Once, she looked at me, but the tilt to her lips was neutral. I should have just told them to let you keep your scarf on! Or... or done anything, except sat here and watched.
She only looked away, unable to read my mind, poking at the food on her plate as it grew colder. Eventually my mother stood, gathering the porcelain for washing. “Deacon, we set up your old bedroom upstairs for you and Nicholas to sleep in when he gets here. Leah will be across the hall, in his old room. Why don't you take your luggage upstairs and show her?”
Grateful for the chance to get Leah away from that stifling air, I kicked my chair back so hard it screeched. “Yeah, sure thing.”
She followed me quickly. We scooped up our bags from the front alcove by the door. My feet carried me into the living room, shoes crushing on the plush rug. In the light of the huge Christmas tree, the television was glossy.
Her eyes found it, it was impossible not to notice the giant display of comfortable wealth. Does she feel strange, being around all of this? The staircase led us to the long hallway upstairs, lights dimmer there, the huge house strangely quiet.
“In here,” I said, pushing into the closest doorway. The bedroom was disturbingly like I had left it last time I'd been home, my bed still by the window and covered in that dark green blanket.
When was that... last Christmas? Has it really been a year?
The addition of another bed on the other side was the only major change. A place for my brother to sleep, apparently. It made the room resemble a hotel with twin beds.
My bedroom, the first time I'll be sharing it. Pursing my lips, I dropped my luggage, turning to grin at Leah. “This is where I'll be. Want to see your room now?”
“No,” she said, stunning me with her pouting face. When no other words came, her chin tilting down so her hair cascaded across her eyes, my heart throbbed.
Gingerly, I gripped her jaw, guiding her to look at me. However, she denied me even that. Her dark orbs hid away behind heavy lashes. “Hey,” I whispered, loud voices feeling inappropriate for the mood, “what's wrong? Are you upset about that... that whole thing with the scarf?”
As if summoned by being mentioned, she lifted the long knitted stretch of red cloth between us. “No, I—yeah, okay. It's some of that, I guess it's a few things.”
“Talk to me,” I coaxed her, feeling the pulse of her energy beneath my fingers. Carefully, I slid my hand around, feeling the length of her neck where the bruises were displayed. Leah grimaced, starting to pull away.
I wouldn't let that happen.
Firmly, my arms coiled around her stomach, crushing her to my chest tightly. “No, none of that. We should be able to talk about this, Leah.”
“I don't know how to talk about it,” she murmured, tense as brick in my arms.
“Just tell me what you're thinking, please. I can't help otherwise.”
“Deacon,” she sighed, her muscles relaxing, though she still didn't hug me back, “you can't always help, some things aren't for you to fix.” I tensed up, broadcasting my dismay. “Sorry, I'm just... this whole situation is a lot to take in. Your parents seem very polite. Almost too polite. It's making me nervous.”
Pulling back enough so I could see her face, I chuckled. My smile must have been contagious as it quickly broke her worried frown. “Too polite, yeah. That's sort of how they handle things they aren't sure about,” I admitted.
Her forehead wrinkled. “They aren't sure about me?”
“About... the bruises,” I finished, not confident in how to answer her. They aren't sure about you, Leah. You called it. But that doesn't matter. Only, I don't think you should have to handle that burden yet. So, for now... “They don't know what happened, and they won't ask about it.”
“So they'll never know if I don't want them to?”
“Bruises heal,” I shrugged, running my thumb over her collar bone softly. “If you don't want to talk about it with them, then yeah, the marks will fade, and so will their curiosity.” That last part wasn't exactly true, I knew my parents would wonder. I also knew they'd ask me eventually, though even that would take some working up to on their part.
I'll tell them it isn't their business, if it gets that far.
Leah looked to the side, seeming lost in thought. “And the rest of it?”
“What?”
“The rest of me. My history,” she said, her tone growing hotter by the second. “If I don't tell them, will that fade as well?”
“Leah, wait, what do you—”
“It's just like before,” she whispered, balling the scarf up tightly at her chest. “Pretending to be someone I'm not, by not talking about what got me to where I am now in the first place.”
Surprised by her sudden burst of anger, I cupped her cheeks, looking straight into her boiling gaze. “Hey, hold on there. I never said you couldn't tell them. Leah, you can tell them whatever you want. I accept you for who you are, and that's independent of if my parents feel the same way. Understand?”
Before me, her face fell, to the point I thought she might start crying. Those shining eyes watered, her mouth becoming a genuine smile as she dropped the scarf to the floor and hugged me around my shoulders. The kiss was soft, electric; yet all too brief.
“Careful, you could make a girl fall for you with words like that.”
Inside of me, something sparked, a hot flare that felt like a warning. The sort of reaction one would have if they suspected they hadn't turned the oven off, and they were already miles down the road, too far away to check.
“It's a curse,” I murmured, pulling her back for another taste. My mind was working, though, trying to piece together why I had been struck so hard by what she had said.
'You could make a girl fall for you...'
“So,” she pulled away with a light giggle. “Do I really need to sleep in a whole other room? What year is this, again?”
“My parents are old fashioned,” I apologized, smoothing her hair behind her ears. “They would lose their minds if we even mentioned sleeping in the same room, let alone sharing a bed.”
“I figured they were old fashioned, considering your dad called himself as much.” She leaned into me, dragging her fingers down my back, sliding them under my shirt. The sensation made me inhale, my head foggy. All thoughts about my weird reaction, the one bothering me that I couldn't put my finger on, vanished away.
She's so forward, definitely not what my parents are used to. Compared to Bethany, especially. They really approved of her chaste ways.
Wait, why am I even thinking about her?
“You sure they'll get upset?” Leah breathed into my ear, standing on tip-toe to manage it. “Maybe if I just sneak in tonight, before your brother gets in tomorrow and we lose the chance?”
“No,” I huffed, frustrated by the situation. “No, sorry, as wonderful as that would be, my parents would shun us both forever if they caught us.”
/>
“That long?” She mused, wrinkling her forehead. “Maybe I could deal with that.”
Chuckling, I gripped her forearms, sliding her touch away from me regretfully. “Forever and a lifetime, to be precise.”
“Oh,” she pouted, “fine. I guess that might be a bit much. Show me to my room, then.”
It was a quick trip; the bedroom was down the hall, but even that was just a few paces away. My mother had set up Nicholas's old room differently, leaving his bed but replacing the blankets with new, bright white ones I was unfamiliar with.
“It isn't exactly a five star hotel,” I said, “but I hope it'll be okay.”
“Are you kidding?” She asked, staring at me dubiously. “I've been sleeping on a couch, in a car, and in a hospital bed. This is extremely nice, Deacon.”
Scratching my neck, I looked around the room with a different opinion. “You didn't mention sleeping in my bed in your list.”
Something about that made her blush, and considering how she had been all over me minutes before, I couldn't understand why. “That's different,” she mumbled, sitting on the mattress.
Looking her over, wondering at her reaction, I brushed it aside as smoothly as the kiss I placed on her forehead. Leaning over her, my hands on either side of her thighs on the bed, I smiled. “I guess I should say goodnight. We have an early morning ahead of us.”
“Do we?” She mumbled, lashes fluttering as she lingered in the moment, our foreheads touching.
“I have a suspicion Dad will want us to go to the church service.”
“The—the what, now?” Leah leaned away, staring at me in disbelief. “We're going to church?”
“Most likely, it's Sunday after all.” Catching the flicker of worry in her dark eyes, I kissed her cheeks, one after the other. “Relax, it'll be fine. We'll stand around, sing some songs, then go eat a huge brunch.”
“I've just... I've never been to church.”
“Not once?”
“Nope.” Her voice wobbled, I could feel the anxiety wafting off of her.
Crouching in front of her, so that for once, she was looking down on me, I smiled. “It doesn't matter, it'll be a group of people singing and praying and having a good time. You don't need to believe any of it or join in, I'll be next to you all the way until it ends.”
“Will your parents be offended if I just... don't go?”
My heart jumped, surprising me with how quickly I felt that jolt of fear. Yes, they will be. Swallowing, trying to ease the tension on my brow, I gripped her hands where they were balled on her knees. “Honestly? Yeah. Can you try and handle it, just this once?”
Leah watched me, silent for a long moment. Eventually, she nodded; brisk, short. “I'll try.”
“Thanks,” I said, relief flooding me. Lifting her hands, I pressed my lips to the backs of them, then stood up. “Alright, you should sleep. I know you haven't been getting much.”
She didn't say anything, her eyes just followed me as I walked towards the door. “Deacon,” she abruptly blurted, making me twist to see her concerned face. “We're only here for a week, right?”
My mouth opened, my hesitation taking over for a split second. “Yes, just a week.”
“I can promise I'll try my best to handle church tomorrow,” she said, soft enough I had to strain to hear her, almost reading her lips. “But... I can't be sure I can handle sleeping apart from you for that long.”
“I'm only down the hall,” I said, leaning on the door frame.
“I know,” she mumbled, laying back on the bed to squint at the ceiling. “That's what makes it so hard.”
My finger twitched by the light switch. I decided not to flick it; instead, just shutting the door as I backed out. “It'll be alright, I promise. Goodnight, Leah.”
Her words were quiet. She tossed me a look of pure distress through the closing gap.
“Goodnight.”
Chapter 2.
For some time I lay awake in my bed just staring at the darkness above me. Sleep was like sand, pouring through my fingers as I kept trying to grab it in handfuls.
What am I so worked up about? Squeezing my eyes shut, the blackness was just as opaque as when my lids were open. I sighed, it was a long, rustling sound.
Did my nerves have anything to do with Leah and what she had said earlier while we were standing right here in my room?
Rolling on my side, blankets around my feet, I felt hot. Though my room was ice cold, it was hard to imagine it was December.
Thinking about Leah, it tickled my brain, my memory rising to the surface. Dissecting the phrase was hard, I kept recalling how she had kissed me, the texture of her lips.
What she had said... she mentioned how I was making her fall for me, right?
Sitting up so fast that my head swam, I wiped a palm across the sweat on my forehead.
Was she saying she's in love with me!? No, wait, 'could.' She'd said 'could' make a girl fall for me. Did she mean she isn't in love with me, not yet? Is that why she said 'could'?
Flopping backwards, my mouth made a bitter twist. I can't tell which of those is bothering me more, that she might be in love with me already, or that she might not be at all.
Inhaling, my chest expanded as my lungs held a great gulp of air. Counting the seconds, I finally let my breath out in a slow ripple.
The idea that Leah might love me, love me, was strangely something I hadn't fully considered.
It'd only been a little over a month, could she really fall in love with me so quickly?
I'm missing the real issue here, what about me? Can I love her, already?
Burying my face with a pillow, the cloth cool on my flushed skin, I tried to listen to the pounding of my heart. It was pulsing, intense; I was starting to freak out.
It took me how long before I told Bethany I loved her? A year? And here I am, debating on if I feel that way for Leah. Is this moving too fast?
Scowling, I tossed the pillow aside, kicking my legs over the bed. Moving to the window, I pushed the curtains away, staring out at the fields lit by the silver coin of the moon. There was no snow, but I could tell by the frost on the ground that it would be coming before long.
Pressing my mouth close to the glass, I breathed out, fogging it all up. I'm the one who asked her to meet my family. How can I start to wonder if this is too fast, all of a sudden?
Leaning my cheek on the cold pane, I shut my eyes in exhaustion. Maybe she's the one who thinks this is going too fast. How can I find out?
Imagining myself proclaiming my love to her, seeing those dark eyes glaze over in shock, or worse, indifference...
No, I thought, frowning as I straightened. My finger tip traced on the glass, forming a shape across the foggy surface. No, that's not what would happen. Maybe this is fast, I don't know, but Leah wouldn't react like that if I admitted my feelings.
But, I debated, hanging my head as shame over took me, how can I tell her, if I'm not sure how I really feel? What if I push too hard, and that makes her pull away?
Standing, I turned on my bare feet, falling back onto the mattress gently. Curling in the blankets, snuggling down deep, I forced myself to try and sleep once more.
In my head, all I could see was the shape of the heart I'd drawn on the glass, the lines melting away in seconds.
****
Breakfast was not so much breakfast, but a bustling run-around as my parents got ready for church. Leah looked like she might fall asleep any second as she leaned on the kitchen wall with her eyes half-shut.
She'd done her best to look presentable. I felt guilty at the idea I should have given her more instruction, and hadn't.
How early did she get up? Was she fussing in the mirror, going through her clothes, trying to decide what was appropriate for morning service?
It was so easy to forget that she had never done this before.
“Deacon,” my mother said, dressed nicely in her crisp black pants and a red Christmas sweater, “do you want to fol
low us in my car, or ride in the back of ours with us?”
“We'll ride with you,” I said absently, trying to will Leah to look at me. My mother made a small noise of agreement, wandering out of the room and calling after my father. Alone in the kitchen, my shined shoes brought me close to the girl I cared so much for.
Touching her shoulder, smiling at how she jumped, my eyes twinkled warmly into hers. “Here. You forgot this.” Lifting the red scarf she'd dropped in my room the night before, I saw her reaction shift.
First, she seemed relieved. Almost instantly, her fingers touched her bare neck, causing me to notice the marks seemed virtually invisible today.
“I covered them with makeup,” she explained, wrapping her throat with the long knitted scarf. “I figured... maybe that would be safer.”
Unsure what to say about that, I instead squinted at the bags under her eyes, the purple hue not as well hidden as her bruises. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, guess I'm pretty sleepy still.”
“Just don't doze off in church, or the pastor will throw the Bible at you.”
Her expression of pure horror made me laugh. “Sorry, I'm kidding. You'll be fine. Once we start to sing, you'll wake up.”
I expected her to look relieved, her twist of distressed eyebrows confused me. “There's singing?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged, fingers helplessly finding their way up her neck, over her scarf and to her cheek. It was so hard not to touch her. “Just Christmas songs probably, nothing major. You'll be fine, Leah. Trust me.”
The lines at the corners of her mouth hinted that she did not, in fact, think she'd be fine. I wanted to console her more, but my father strolled in, dressed in his heavy winter coat. “Alright, kids, let's load up in the car!”
Cramming into the backseat of my dad's old truck was nostalgic as anything could be. It was funny, how hard it was to feel like an adult when put back into such a familiar situation.
The sky resembled the color of oatmeal, threatening snow but offering only cold, stale air. Beside me, Leah was quiet, something she seemed more quick to sink into ever since getting off the plane.
