by Meghan Edge
my chest like I've never laughed before. It's relief. It's too much, and it feels weird, but I'm so overjoyed to see her. She's here.
“I'm sorry,” she pants as she sucks my earlobe. Mouths my throat. Kisses my lips. “I don't like the rain. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wanted to stay.”
“It's alright,” I replied, kissing her back with a passion that frightens me. It's alright, I remind myself. It's alright to kiss. People kiss all the time and it doesn't mean anything. This doesn't have to mean anything, but I know that it does. Even though we're on lunch break and could be interrupted at any moment, it's like we don't care. We don't care as I slide my hand up her shirt, cupping her breast. As she pushes my clothes aside, pulling my tee shirt over my head. When the cool air hits my flesh, I realize what she's done.
My jacket is crumpled on the floor.
My jaw drops and I halt our activities.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers against my neck, leaning into me. “I didn't realize. Too soon, I know, it's too soon. We'll stop.”
I can't avoid her. It hurts too much. I want to see her all the time. I miss her when she's gone. This is not what it's supposed to feel like, this longing. Is it? So I walk with her. I walk to class with her, we drive in my car and sing to music, and we walk down the boardwalk again. She does not touch me, and I don't ask her to. There are things we aren't telling each other.
I can't help but follow her. It's unfair to her. I'm keeping secrets, so why shouldn't she? But I follow her down to the water, hide among the dunes, waiting. I need to know everything about her. I watch her gaze into the sea with a type of longing I've never seen before. I watch as she dips her toes in, having shed her clothes, watch her run, joy on her face, into the surf. I don't see her disappear and I never see her resurface, but I suddenly know. I know what she was hiding from me and I am ashamed. How could I have pried like this?
I need to make it better.
I need her to know I hadn't meant to intrude.
I feel the weight of the fabric on my shoulders, studs and buttons feeling heavy on my body. I peel the jacket off, despite all of the warnings not to, and leave it folded by her clothes.
I was careless. Careless with my heart.
I wake in a fevered frenzy, feeling something so dizzying set in on me that I almost vomit from it. My sheets are soaked in sweat. My body aches with a need I've never known before. I need to go to school. I need to- I need to see- What do I need to see? I'm not sure. I dress in a hurry, but no matter how many layers I put on I feel naked. When I see him in homeroom, the pull towards him is overwhelming. The paper-thrower. The guy always on the edges of our classes, watching us with each other. He is suddenly my everything. He is the sun around which I orbit. My cardigan itches in place of my skin and I feel flushed. He is a golden boy, a beach runner who plays for the soccer team. The type of bully who gets away with it because adults think he is so perfect. Right now, so do I. I overlook his previous misdeeds because he's irresistible to me. He's suddenly so gorgeous that I can't control it. I want him. I want all of him, in ways I've never wanted a boy before. I'd do anything for him. I'd do anything to have him.
I don't even look for my friend as I take the seat next to the boy, smiling as he smiles. Smile again, please. I just want to see your beautiful teeth. I don't see the worry in my friend's delicate features because I'm just not looking at her anymore.
“Where is your jacket?” she asks me. My jacket. My heart.
“Thought you had it,” I reply without glancing back. All I care about is his face. “Thought I left it on the beach yesterday with your stuff.”
“N-no,” she stutters. “Wait, when?” I huff, exasperated. Leave me alone. Leave us alone.
“Yesterday, I left it on your pile of clothes,” I say, watching the golden boy's hand trace over mine possessively. The sensation is too much, as if all my nerves are lit on fire at once. Too much. Yes, take me on the desk right now. No wait, later. When no one is watching, when I can be entirely yours to enjoy. Make me yours. Make it all go away.
“Yesterday,” she whispers as she walks away. Good, go away. Wait. Don't go.
I don't- but I do. I'm torn. My body recognizes that I want him, but my brain is screaming in horror. My brain is thinking of her. It's madness. It's hurting. I don't even know myself. As he presses against me, his fingers scratching my stomach as he pulls up my shirt, I hear myself giving out sounds I don't want to make. No. I am not yours. I don't belong to you, but somehow I do.
The car door opens and she's there, my angel fish. My watery savior. My future lover, please. Save me. Save me from the curse. Her blue eyes, bottomless cerulean oceans, are rimmed with red. She's holding my jacket and as she hands it to me, I don't need to be in the car anymore. I hate him. He repulses me. I move to leave, but he grips my arm, hard, and I swing at him but he won't let go. My mermaid pulls at him.
“Get off of her,” my mermaid demands. The suddenly repulsive boy sneers at her.
“Or what?” he asks. Was his voice always so nasal? So whining? “Go away, she doesn't belong to you anymore.”
“She never did,” my mermaid counters. I want to correct her. Of course I belong to you. I love you.
Something breaks inside of me and I know it's the curse. Without giving away my skin I had still managed to give away my heart. I scowled at the nasty boy. Then I broke his nose.
When we're alone, she touches my jacket and I shudder. Oh god. Oh god, yes. Goosebumps appear on my skin, my hands start trembling. I want to reach out and touch her back. I want to know if her hair is corn-silk soft or will it feel like kelpy seaweed? I want to taste her skin, lick her cheek and taste the salt of the ocean on her. Her finger wraps around one of the copper toned buttons that hook layers of denim together. Under the soft blue fabric I'm shaking.
“You are one of them,” she breathes, her accusation lacking any kind of hatred, her tone more in awe than in anger. Historically, my people and hers war with each other. We are our own battle.“You are a selkie.”
Her slim fingers are still tracing the lines of my jacket, skin running over cool pyramid studs and frayed edges. I gulp, and I nod. There is no way to deny it. I am what I am. Or was. However that works.
“Y-yes,” I half-hiss. Oh, I have wanted to touch her for so long. I have wanted to hold her against me, pant against her like a desperate animal. Was this real? Was this me or was this my skin? I swallow again, my throat parched as if I'd never had a drink in my entire life. “What about you? I sense it, you're one of the sea people. I saw you.” I want to tell her I'm sorry, but the word gets stuck in my throat.
“The Mer,” she purrs, bringing her other hand up to brush back my hair. Her blue blue blue eyes are searching my face. “I am one of the Mer.”
“I can't let you have it,” I tell her. I can feel her fingers working one of the buttons undone. “You can't have it. Stop it.”
She smirks. I always thought if we were together, that I would be the dominant one, but no, not here. Not in this moment. She is definitely in charge. “Then stop me.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, blood ringing in my ears, and I realize I can't. I can't stop her. I never want to stop her. Another button comes undone, the jacket gaping at the top as she slides her free hand up to touch the skin on my neck. It's like an electric shock and I love it.
“You can't stop me,” she says, “because it's not the jacket. It's you. You want this, too.”
“Please,” I beg, her hand cupping my jaw.
“Please what?” she asks softly. Oh, darling, dearest, beloved girl. Girl who I've watched for so long. She's right. It isn't the jacket. The jacket has nothing to do with it. It's just, without the jacket, I don't know what I am.
“Please, please kiss me. I love you.”
Amelia & The Cookies
My littlest sister is the first to fall. I sit on my bed, and from where I am I can hear her giggling in her room with her new girlfriend. When the giggles turn to something else, I rise a
nd go downstairs. Gabriella is gone, having moved to the city to find herself, and Eileen is looking at colleges. I know that in order to find their true loves, my siblings will need to move around, but I can't help but feel rejected somehow. Like their need to roam is because I couldn't provide enough for them here.
“You look pretty today. Goin' somewhere?” Marcus asks, looking up from his homework. His hat is sitting next to him on the table, and he's nibbling at the cookies I made yesterday (and already ate too many of). I shake my head, looking longingly at the sweets.
“No where to go. I just couldn't stay upstairs anymore with the girls carrying on like that,” I tell him. He nods.
“It's weird to see Waverly so... happy.” He looks at me with concerned eyes. “Are you happy?”
I nod. I know it's a lie, but ever since our parents left, they have been my babies. I don't want my babies to worry about me. “Of course I am. I've got you guys, don't I?”
“Yeah, it's just,” Marcus shrugs. “Sometimes I think you don't let yourself have things. Because of us. I hope we all get rid of these things and then you can focus on you. I want you to be as happy as we can be.”
I don't think I can be happy like them. I don't think it's what fate has in store for me. Giving in, I snag one of the cookies. It's delicious. I might not be happy, but I can enjoy a cookie if I want to. Marcus