by KB Benson
Jace sits in front of me, waiting for my answers. Maybe I don’t have to lie, but I don’t have to be detailed either. Steer him to think I mean something different than the truth. I think for another second, loosely aware I’m chewing my bottom lip like bubblegum.
“Well,” I hesitate, choosing each word carefully, “my father is a very prominent, um, leader where we’re from.”
“And where’s that?” he asks.
“Um, I grew up in Nero.”
“Where’s Nero?” he asks, testing out the name.
Sweat beads at my hairline. Why so detailed?
“It means on the water.” Maybe if I act confident he’ll just accept the answers without asking more questions. “Nero is just what I called the ocean; my father and I, we traveled all over it so there isn’t an exact place. Just the ocean.”
“Interesting,” he says. “So, are you a navy brat?”
“Excuse me?” I say. “No one’s ever called me a brat before.”
“No, no. Not a brat. A navy brat is just what you call a kid who’s grown up in the navy or army because of their parents. I’ve had friends who grew up in the navy and they all spent time living out on the ocean, too.”
“Oh, sure then.” I stop talking, hoping that’ll satisfy him.
It doesn’t.
“Keep going,” Jace prods. “What about your mom?”
“My mother died a long time ago.”
Jace’s smile disappears, and his mouth hangs open like he’s about to apologize, but I don’t want his pity.
“It’s okay,” I say before he can speak. “I was really little when it happened. She, um, she fell into the ocean one day and was pulled under and that was it. I was there when it happened. She’d taken me with her—I loved getting to spend time with just her and me. When she fell, I tried to save her; but I couldn’t. I remember she’d kissed my forehead that morning like she did every morning. I always needed those kisses to start my days off right.”
I shake my head remembering my mother’s beautiful face and wishing for a moment I was with her again in a simpler time rather than sitting on the land even with Jace. I offer Jace a light-hearted smile, hoping it puts his pity to rest.
“Is that from her?” he gestures to the locket I finger around my neck. I hadn’t realized I was playing with it.
“Yes. She hid a pearl inside of it for me. She said some of the most beautiful things grow in darkness.” As though she sits next to me, I feel her breath against my ear, telling me that I was beautiful, that I was strong, and that I made her proud.
“I have, I feel like, a billion brothers and sisters.” I continue, hoping to not dwell on Mother for too long. “In Nero, we’re all considered family.”
Jace nods like he understands, but I’m not sure if he really does or even can. The network of my family is so intricate and twisted, I’d be surprised if he understood it even if I explained it clearly.
“Thanks for telling me,” he says after I’ve stopped talking.
I nod and stare into my lap.
“So, Iris, what do you like to do for fun?”
Another question—but at least it’s not about my past.
“I think we’ve talked enough about me.”
“Not even in the slightest,” Jace says. “I want to know everything about you.”
“If you knew everything, you wouldn’t say that.”
Jace waits patiently until I finally sigh and give in. I’ve answered the toughest questions; this one should be simpler. What’s the harm?
“I like to sit on the beach,” I hesitate, again trying to be as vague as possible. “I like to read. And I like school.” It wouldn’t do for Jace to know I sit on the beach to get a release from my addiction to the ocean, that I like to read because it distracts me from reality, and that I like school because it’s my harvesting grounds.
“Cool. But what do you like to do? When you’re alone, do you just sit on the beach? Do you go to school when you have free time? If you could do anything in the world right now, what would you do, Iris?”
“Swim,” I blurt and then quickly cover my mouth. Think! I chastise myself internally.
“Swim,” he repeats. “We can make that happen.”
I know fear crosses my face. For some reason, Jace won’t let swimming go.
“No. No, Jace. I—I can’t swim. I can’t get in the water.”
“Because of your mom?” he asks.
“Partially, but it’s more than just that.”
“I can help you, Iris. I would never let you get hurt.”
“No,” I say harder. “Just drop it. I’m not going to swim so leave it alone. Besides I didn’t mean swim, I meant… gym.” It’s not difficult to hear the lie in my voice. We both know I don’t mean gym.
“Okay.” He holds his hands up in surrender. He checks his watch while his hands hang in the air. “You’re a fan of gym. I think that’s a good hobby.”
My fear dissipates, at least for the moment, not because he believes me because I know he doesn’t, but because he’s going to drop it.
“You like gym, too, I take it?” I say, rolling with the new conversation topic.
“Oh, it’s my favorite.” Jace rolls his eyes. “I can’t get enough of Ms. Diggins barking orders at us to run another lap around the gym. Woman, we’ve just ran fifteen! Give us a break.”
I laugh, knowing exactly what he means. Ms. Diggins is a strict teacher who likes to push her students as far as she can go. This would be fine except I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a female body-building champion. No one can ever go as far as she can go.
“I’ve answered all of your questions. Now it’s your turn to tell me something about you,” I say as Jace opens the passenger door of his truck for me. I climb in, leaning over the center console and cracking his door open for him.
Jace smiles slyly as he slips into his seat and starts the engine. “Ah, unfortunately, I can’t talk and drive at the same time.”
“I don’t think so.” I pull the key out of the ignition and dangle it over my lap. “We will sit here all day if we have to.”
Jace laughs. “Alright, what would you like to know?”
“Tell me something real about you. Something no one else knows.” I know I tread in dangerous waters asking this question. Despite the vague answers I gave Jace, I hope he gives me a real one; yet at the same time, I hope he doesn’t. I want to know him, to know his soul; but the deeper a relationship goes, the more difficult the end is.
Jace thinks for a moment before his smile falters and then disappears. He stares at his hands, his sad eyes becoming glassy.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’ve never told anyone what really happened to my dad.”
I stiffen but try to hold a casual pose. Jace could have chosen anything in the world to tell me; but he wants to tell me about his dad—the one person I don’t want to know more about.
“Are you sure you want to tell me?” I ask, hoping he changes his mind, wishing I hadn’t asked.
He pauses for a moment. “If I were to ever tell anyone about this, I’d want it to be you.”
Dread fills my stomach and I slump where I sit but Jace doesn’t notice.
“He died when I was fourteen,” Jace starts and I hold my breath for the story he’s going to tell. “He went out fishing one afternoon. It had been sunny and warm all day—I remember there was a light breeze, that’s all. My dad had been out for maybe thirty minutes when a storm just appeared out of nowhere. The rain hit the ocean so hard I couldn’t even see past the front porch while I waited for him to come home. He never did.”
“Jace, I’m so sorry,” I say, the pain etched onto his face.
“The worst part is my dad’s death is my fault.” Tears gather at the corner of his eyes.
“How could it possibly be? You weren’t with him; there’s nothing you could have done.”
Jace bites his lip, drawing a small dot of blood. “He went out because of me.
He was coming to talk about his trade in my class the next day. Being a fisherman’s son isn’t all that cool, but I wanted to impress my class so I’d asked him to go out and catch the biggest fish he could to put on display in the room. That morning as he loaded up his truck with his fishing gear, he asked me to go turn on the radio and get a weather update.
“The hosts warned of a storm brewing in the east that would hit the coast by four in the afternoon. They were usually wrong, and my dad often shrugged off their warnings and would go out anyway. Besides, I figured my dad would be done fishing by four. The radio hosts called it a category four storm—I didn’t know what that meant. When my dad asked me what the weather was supposed to look like, I just gave him a thumbs up and told him he was good to go—that he’d have good weather. I was worried if I told him anything about the storm, he’d choose not to go out; and then we’d be left without an impressive display for our presentation the next day.
“Instead I went to the presentation without my dad.” Jace sniffs and wipes at his wet cheeks. “That’s when I stopped caring what other people think, but it’s not enough to bring my dad back.”
I don’t know what to say so I just hold Jace’s hands in mine and wipe away his tear with my thumb. I never would have guessed he’d have something this heavy to carry.
Jace drops me off at the entrance of the school—the lie of an unfinished project convincing him to bring me back here instead of taking me home.
“Thanks for letting me tell you about my dad.” He puts the car in park, the pain still clear in his eyes. “It’s really refreshing to get that off my chest.”
I nod.
“Can I see you later?” he asks.
“I would love that,” I say, with an internal condition we ask each other no more questions—ever.
“Awesome. I’ll call you.” Jace leans in and gives me a quick kiss, the smell of the ocean flooding my nose. He pulls away before I have a chance to open my eyes. When I do, I clearly see the sparkle dance across his face. I quickly look away, hoping for any miniscule amount of mercy he didn’t notice. But he does a double take before leaning in to kiss me again. I put my hand on his chest to hold him back; he smells too much like the ocean, and I can’t lose control or he’ll know exactly what I am.
“I better hurry or I’ll get nothing done,” I say gently.
Jace shakes himself out of his hypnotic state. “Right. I’ll call you.”
I nod. Jace had asked me for my phone number shortly after I returned from my week-long absence. I’d only ever borrowed cell phones when I needed to, so I didn’t have one when he asked; but it’s odd for a regular teenager to not have one these days. That afternoon I went and purchased one, so I could give Jace the number. I’m not sure I even know how to answer it, though, if he does call.
Chapter 18
JACE
The phone rings over and over as I pace back and forth in my room. I want to do something special for Iris, something that will really surprise her; and I came up with the perfect idea last night.
“Hey.” Iris’ voice cuts through the dial tone.
“Hey, pretty girl.” It’s been two weeks since we kissed, and we’ve been inseparable since—just the way I like it.
Iris laughs. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if you had plans tonight.”
“Mmm, how come?”
“Well, if you do, I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel them; you’re going to be spending tonight with me.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Sure is. I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? For me?” I can hear the smile in Iris’ voice.
“Yep. Can I pick you up tonight around seven?”
“Of course. Can I have a hint?”
I laugh. “Now why would I do that? You’re just going to have to wait until tonight to see what we’re going to do.”
Iris sighs. “I hate waiting.”
“I know, and I love it when you have to.”
“Hey!”
“I’m just kidding. Kay, well I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got to get to work.”
“On what?”
“Bye, Iris.”
“Are your eyes closed?” I tighten the blindfold around Iris’ eyes.
“Um, even if they were open, there’s no way I’d be able to see through this chokehold.” Iris gestures to the necktie wrapped around her face.
I laugh. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. Just make sure to pick up your feet.”
Iris takes giant steps in front of her over bushes and little shrubs. “Don’t let me run into anything, okay?”
“Never,” I say.
Iris trudges through the brambles of the forest, her hands out in front of her bracing to catch an unexpected fall. “Where are we?”
“Where do you think?”
“Well, it’s dark, and cold—you didn’t bring us to the prison, did you? I want to go home if you did.”
“Of course not. That would be a horrible date.”
“Mmm, well, wherever we are, it smells fresh.”
I lead Iris through the vegetation until the trees thin out and the brush gives way to tall grass blowing in the light breeze. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
I pull the blindfold from Iris’ eyes. Her mouth falls open when she sees the display before her. Quilts and blankets scatter across the damp ground, a picnic basket resting at one corner. Candles litter the haphazardly placed stumps and occasional fallen log, brightening the little meadow.
“Jace,” she whispers. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
I lead Iris toward the blanket; she sits down, gently as though she’s afraid to break the scene. I kneel by the picnic basket and rummage inside.
“You’re amazing, Iris. I want you to know that, and I wanted to do something special for you to show you.”
Her smile grows, and she stares at me as though she’s trying to piece together a puzzle. I pull out a tray and pop off the lid, scooping two pieces of dark chocolate cake onto a plate for each of us.
“Wow. Did you make this yourself?” Iris asks.
“I certainly did—with the help of my mom, of course.” I’ve never done anything like this for another person before. “She told me I had to tell you there’s a raspberry cream cheese filling inside and that’s chocolate ganache on top—whatever that means. She was pretty proud of our creation.”
“She should be. This looks professional.”
Iris takes a bite and then falls backward onto the blanket. “And tastes like it, too! Your mom’s a fantastic baker.”
“Hey now, I said my mom helped me. Not the other way around.”
Iris winks at me. “I’m just teasing. But seriously, this is probably the best dessert I’ve ever tasted. I can’t believe you made this.”
I take a bite of my own piece—it does rock pretty hardcore. I take a deep breath and lie down next to Iris. She strategically scoops up another piece of cake and makes it to her mouth without lifting her head or spilling. She stares up at the night sky, each of us enjoying the beauty of the wilderness.
“Did you know,” she says, “a lot of those stars you see out there are actually dead?”
“Really?” I look at her, not sure if she’s kidding around again.
She nods. “Really. They’re so far away from Earth that their light has to pass through light years to get to us. By the time we see the light they give off, they’re already dead.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
Iris is silent for a moment. “I think it’s sweet. Long after the star’s dead, we still get to enjoy its light.”
I watch Iris gaze at the stars; she constantly surprises me with how she makes me think about the world differently. “Kind of like when people die, too, I guess. How we enjoy their legacy, I mean.”
Iris stops eating, her body still. I’m very aware of her hand resting on the blanket next to mine. I listen to her steady breathing and wond
er what she’s thinking—stars? My dad? Her own mom? Heat radiates off her body onto me and I swear there’s a winch pulling me toward her. It’s almost painful for me to lie still on my back.
After a few grueling minutes, I give in to the temptation of Iris lying next to me. In one fluid motion, I reach over and pick up her hand, her fingers sliding easily between mine. I peek at her face: a smile stretches across it, reaching her eyes.
Using her free hand, she takes another bite of cake.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
She stares up at the stars. “I’m trying to figure you out. Here comes this new kid into school who naturally stands out where most others are happy to blend in.”
“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” I point to my chest.
Iris rolls her eyes. “Don’t get a big head; but I mean you’re athletic—you surf, you’re social. You’re musical, you’re happy, you’re easy going, you’re not afraid of an adventure, and you have really bad taste in girls.”
I open my mouth to object, but she continues, “I mean, really? Candee?”
I laugh. “Now you know that’s not fair.”
“Bleh, I know,” Iris says. She really doesn’t like Candee. “You’re a gentleman, as I found out last week, and apparently a gourmet chef now, too. I’m starting to think there isn’t much you can’t do.” Iris pauses. “I can see why Candee was so in love with you.”
“That’s it.” Smoothly moving Iris’ cake from her stomach to a stump, I roll over her and tickle her sides. She squirms into a ball giggling, her dark hair spreading across the blanket. “None of that now.”
Iris kicks her feet wildly.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” she laughs hysterically.
Before I can decide I’m not going to stop, she army rolls out from under me and to the other side of the blankets. She glares at me from her corner of protection.
“I don’t think that was called for.”
“Oh, it was definitely called for.” I lie back on the blankets and pat my chest. She eyes me warily but crawls over; and lies down, placing her head in the crook of my arm. I love the force of Iris in my arms, as though she’s safe here, and I’m safe with her here. As though we can protect each other.
