Bright Midnight: A Second-Chance Romance

by Karina Halle

  She shrugs. “Sometimes it is. But sometimes you want to share with the world. What’s the difference between that and your poetry? Or the other photos you take?”

  “I don’t share those with anyone.”

  “You did with me.”

  Yes. And right now you are my world.

  But of course I don’t say that.

  “You know in a few weeks I have to be back on the ship. Head out to sea again.”

  She nods. “Yeah. Who knows where I’ll be by then.”

  “Well…what if you were with me?”

  Shay stops milking and glances at me over her shoulder, holding my gaze. The cow stamps her foot impatiently, making Shay go back to work. “What do you mean? On the ship?”

  “No. The time before that. What if…what if I can figure out how to take some time off? The lambs are all accounted for now, so there’s less work there. Per can handle the cows and I can get Kolbjorn, he helps when I’m gone. Maybe we could go on a road trip together, just a few days. A week.”

  She slows down for a moment and I can feel her trying to figure this out. Eventually she asks, “Is that a good idea?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends travel together. And it would be cheaper for you this way to split the cost. You were going to travel anyway.”

  “I was going to stay in hostels. What were you thinking?”

  Obviously I was thinking about us sharing a hotel room.

  And a bed.

  And she knows this.

  “Anders,” she says softly. “I feel like…what we have, whatever this is, is so fragile. So close to becoming complicated, and I really can’t handle complicated in my life right now. I can’t.”

  “Neither can I. So we don’t make it complicated.”

  She rubs her lips together for a moment and goes back to milking. “I think that’s impossible.”

  “You don’t know that unless you try.”

  “Well, maybe I’m too scared to try. Maybe we should just…”

  “Continue milking the cow?” I make a joke. I give her an easy way out of this.

  “Yeah. That.”

  I nod and slowly get to my feet, my lower back hurting from crouching for so long. I stretch, arms over my head, and when I look down, Shay has stopped milking. She’s staring up at me with a curious expression.

  “What?” I ask.

  She has the look in her eyes like she’s about to tell me something, so I instinctively lean over.

  Then she squirts milk right in my fucking face.

  “What the fuck?” I exclaim, swiping my arm across my brow.

  Meanwhile, she’s nearly falling off the stool she’s laughing so much. Even the cow gives a chortling noise, like it was her idea.

  Thankfully I know just how to get my own brand of revenge.

  Shay is very ticklish. Especially on her ribs. I used it as a flirting mechanism when I was young, a way to get us rolling around on the bed (or the floor), and I’m not too proud to say I’m about to do the same for the same reason right now. Well, that, and she deserves it.

  I raise my fingers, wiggling them at her, and her mouth drops at the look on my face, that look that says I’m going to get her.

  “No!” she cries out softly, and then scrambles to her feet, knocking over the stool. She tries to run past me, but I grab her by the waist and flip her around, trying to hold onto her with one hand while tickling her with the other. It’s hard work, considering she’s in a baggy jumpsuit, but even the thought of it has her laughing and gasping.

  “Don’t you dare!” she yelps, as I try to run my hands up her side. Strands of hair of come loose from her braid, flowing into her face, anxious laughter falling from her lips. God, she’s never looked so beautiful.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, before I have a chance to think, to stop myself and ponder the consequences, I’m pressing her up against the barn wall, our faces inches from each other, my body against hers, hearts racing.

  And I kiss her.

  The world stops.

  Turns.

  Reverses course for a brief moment when I remember exactly what it was like to kiss these soft and yearning lips, to have Shay breathless against my mouth, to feel her body slowly yield to my hands.

  Then we both pause, breathe, the world stopping once again before she stares into my eyes and then everything moves forward with fireworks, my blood filled with hot urgency.

  I cover her mouth with mine, her tongue teasing me, fueling me, while my hands disappear into her hair, holding her in place, grounding me. All the years of dreaming, the years of guilt and shame and regret, and now she’s here, our kiss passionate, wild, building with emotion and desire, trying to make up for lost time. Trying to undo every wrong.

  A throat is cleared from behind me, followed by, “Anders,” in a stern voice.

  Fuck.

  It’s Per.

  I rip myself away from Shay, breathing hard, and turn around to see him at the entrance to the barn, not looking too pleased. Then again, that is his natural face.

  “Put her back where she belongs,” he says, motioning to the cow, though for a moment I think he also means Shay. Then he nods at Shay and says in broken English, “I need help with a sheep.”

  I glance at Shay and she’s nodding back at him, smoothing down her hair. “Sure. Of course.”

  She gives me a wary glance, her eyes looking haunted and strained, enough to set my heart on edge, and then she pushes off the wall and strides toward Per.

  I watch as they walk off together into the bright light outside, their silhouette’s disappearing.

  I rub my lips together, still tasting her.

  I think we just crossed that line into complicated.

  13

  Shay

  Then

  Oh god, I’m going to be sick.

  I haven’t thrown up since I was seven years old and had the stomach flu, and I really don’t want to break that streak.

  But my streak is over. The time is up. I leap from my bed, throwing off the covers, my fingers clamped over my mouth as I run for the bathroom, dropping to my knees. I barely get my head over the toilet before I’m heaving and vomit fills the bowl with sickening noise.

  Gross. So, so gross!

  I feel a mix of disappointment for not holding back harder and worry, because, well, why the hell am I puking?

  Nerves, I tell myself. It makes the most sense. I woke up with my heart being squeezed, this feeling of total dread in my chest like something was terribly wrong.

  Only, there isn’t anything wrong. At least, nothing new.

  I mean, okay, I haven’t seen Anders for a week or so. He’s practically ignoring me at school, and when I do see him it’s just a glance in the hallway. I never thought I would say this, but the Viking isn’t looking too good. Dark circles, stringy hair…I’m starting to think he might be on drugs, which would explain a lot, but I certainly hope it’s not true.

  I’m at the end of my rope. I’ve texted him plenty of times, stalked him on Facebook, and when I do get a hold of him he tells me he’s been really busy (won’t say with what!) and that he’ll let me know when he’s free. Doesn’t explain why he pretends not to see me when I’m staring him right in his face.

  I really thought that we were moving forward. After our stunt in the community pool (which I am deeply disappointed that no one has been gossiping about), we were back to hanging out almost every day. And more sex. I mean, it’s not been exactly the same as it was before, there’s this strange sense of detachment and he won’t look me in the eyes, but I’m just so glad he’s still with me, that we’re still a couple. I really thought for a while that he was going to break up with me and I couldn’t imagine anything worse happening. My whole world would split in two and I would be torn apart.

  But I’ve been giving him space. It’s what Cosmo says to do. Girls are clingy, women know when to let the man
do the work. I want to be a woman here, not some teenage girl in love. I want to give him all the space he needs, do all the things right. Be perfect. I can do that, right?

  I slowly get up from the floor and flush the toilet before I can get another glimpse of my vomit and have it happen all over again. I quickly rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth until the acidic taste is gone and then splash cold water all over my face.

  Thankfully it’s Saturday and I don’t have anywhere to go. Everly is out of town with her family, and with Anders pretending I don’t exist, I only have myself for company.

  Actually, that’s not true. There’s Hannah, but I won’t see much of her. She already told me she’s studying all weekend. Which is something I guess I should do, considering I have a science final coming up, but I feel too sick to concentrate on schoolwork right now.

  I lie down on my bed, fetal position, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the nausea will pass. Last night we had Chinese food, but I got what I always get, and don’t you usually get sick right away if it’s food poisoning? This morning I had cereal, but again, nothing unusual.

  While I’m trying to ponder my food choices as of late, I feel another hit of nausea roll through me. I run to the bathroom again, making it just in time.

  When there’s nothing left to cough up, I flush the toilet just as my bedroom door swings open and Hannah stares at me, eyes wide.

  “Shay, are you sick?”

  I can barely find the energy to nod. “Obviously.”

  I try to get to my feet and she’s there, pulling me up under my arms. She’s never been too affectionate with me, but she grabs my shoulders and peers at me closely. Well, not too close. I probably stink.

  “What did you eat?” she asks, flipping down the toilet seat and making me sit on it. Then she goes to the sink and washes her hands with a ton of soap, for at least half a minute. “Break it down, everything.”

  “Last night I had the beef and broccoli and spring rolls. This morning I had Lucky Charms and milk.”

  “Was the milk expired?”

  I give her the dirtiest look I can muster. “Do I look like I’d drink expired milk?”

  She folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall, staring at me like she’s trying to read my mind. That’s the way it is with Hannah, she either looks at you with indifference or you’re some impossible math challenge. There is nothing in between.

  “What about your period? When was your last period?”

  My cheeks flush. I do not talk to Hannah about stuff like this.

  “I’m still waiting for it,” I say, staring down at the chipped pink polish on my fingernails. I had only done them yesterday, but I got the polish at a dollar store, so what did I expect?

  When she makes a choking sound, I look up at her.

  “What?”

  “You’re waiting for it? You mean you missed it?”

  I shake my head. “I mean it’ll show up. It’s just late. I didn’t miss it.”

  “Oh my lord,” she says, her mouth setting in a firm line that reminds me of our mother when she gets mad. “When was the last time you had sex?”

  My cheeks go even more red, and while I’m embarrassed about this conversation, fear is starting to take over the embarrassment, making my skin feel extra clammy. “Who said I was having sex?”

  Hannah narrows her eyes. “Shay! I’m not an idiot. I live in this house, too.”

  “Wouldn’t know it, you’re never home,” I say as a jab. Then I quickly look away before she can spear me with her gaze again.

  “When was the last time, Shay? I haven’t seen Anders over here in a while…”

  Way to remind me. I try and think. “I don’t know. Maybe two weeks ago.”

  “And before that?”

  I shrug. “It was often.” Except when it wasn’t.

  “Are you on the pill?”

  I shake my head, feeling ashamed, like a child. “No. I…I didn’t know how to get on that. But we were using condoms!”

  Except…

  My face falls.

  The swimming pool.

  “What?” Hannah asks.

  I try to swallow, to speak, but it’s hard. “But once. We didn’t. A month ago…”

  Then it all comes up.

  Tears, this time.

  I burst out crying, face buried in my hands, trying to keep it all together and failing.

  This is the moment when I realize how alone I am.

  And how fucked I am.

  I cry for a few minutes, Hannah rubbing my back and making soothing noises.

  Then she flicks the lights on and off to get my attention.

  I stare up at her through the tears.

  “Don’t lose your shit yet,” she says to me with determination. “I’m going to go to CVS and get you a pregnancy test. After you take the test, if it’s positive, we’ll figure out what to do. Okay? Come here.” She holds her hand out and I place mine in hers. She leads me out of the bathroom and to the bed, making me lie down. She hands me a pillow to hold onto. I cradle it like I used to do to Frank, our old golden retriever who died the day after my parents announced their divorce. Then she leaves and I’m all alone.

  It feels like my sister is gone forever. In the time that passes I text Everly just to see how she is, wanting so badly to tell her what’s happening, but I don’t want to ruin her weekend trip, especially as I don’t know what’s what. I don’t want her to think less of me yet.

  But I already think less of myself. For getting myself into this mess, for being so sloppy and careless, for basically fucking myself over just to be with Anders.

  And Anders…what the hell am I going to tell him? He’s already being distant, this will only push him further away, all the way back to Norway probably. He won’t want any part of this, any part of me. I’ve seen a few girls in my grade actually get pregnant in hopes of keeping the guy, and it never ever works.

  My sister comes back before I can get totally worked up, even though I shed a few more tears in the meantime. She plops the plastic bag beside me and takes out a bottle of Pedialite, some anti-nausea medication, and two pregnancy tests.

  “You taking one too?” I joke feebly as I try to sit up.

  Hannah is not in the joking mood. “We have to make sure. Now come on.” She pulls me to my feet and gives me a box. “Go in there, follow the instructions. No matter the result, we’ll try again. Okay?”

  It sounds simple enough.

  I go in the bathroom, read the instructions, pee on the stick and wait.

  The longest wait of my life just to see two pink lines pop up.

  I wail, “Hannah!” and she comes barging in. I shake the stick at her, crying.

  “Try again, try again,” she says, refusing to touch the stick.

  She closes the door again, and the second result is the same as the first.

  I’m pregnant.

  I manage to keep my pregnancy between me and Hannah all week. It’s hard. I end up skipping my morning classes on Tuesday because I was throwing up too much, but thankfully it stops when I’m at school. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea; everyone is so quick to spread rumors and I already feel like they’re all talking behind my back anyway, because Anders is never around school anymore, let alone around me.

  Not that I’ve texted him, or even Everly, all that much. Hannah made an appointment for me with the doctor tomorrow, Saturday, that way I don’t have to miss any school. I’m scared to death, but I know that we’re just going to do more tests and talk about our options. I just wish this was a dream, that this was happening to someone else. I keep thinking that if I try hard enough I can move back time with my mind. Or that I can just slap my face or pinch my skin or shake my head hard enough and things will go back to the way things were.

  But it never happens. It doesn’t change. This is my reality now.

  And I’ve never felt so alone.

  Although, thank god for Hannah. She’s really stepped up and we’ve
become closer in many ways. She’s not a substitute for my mother and she doesn’t want to be, but I know I’d be totally lost without her.

  “Shay,” Everly says from behind me as I close my locker. One more class and then the weekend begins. Oh joy.

  I turn around to face her with an apologetic look on my face, expecting her to give me shit for being distant and weird all week. But that look fades once I see how upset she looks. This isn’t about me.

  Is it?

  “What’s up? You okay?”

  She shakes her head slowly, blinking. “Okay. Good. You haven’t heard yet. I wanted you to hear it from me. I just heard and I had to find you and tell you.”

  My heart drops into my stomach.

  “What?” I whisper. “Did someone die?”

  “No. But you’ll wish someone did.” She takes in a deep breath and then looks around her in the hall. “There was a rumor…I heard it this morning, but I didn’t want to believe it. Jenny Bishop told me. She said she heard it from Meghan Stovell. Meghan is friends with Jen.”

  “Jen Bishop.”

  “No. Jen Brown.” Our friend, Jen Brown, who stopped hanging out with us around Christmas, who started dating Everly’s ex, Jeff. Yeah. It was a bitch move.

  “What are you talking about? What about her?” I ask.

  Everly rubs her lips together and then leans in. “Jen’s been sleeping with Anders.”

  My heart stops.

  “What?!” I shout.

  Mr. Hill, the history teacher, stops and gives us both a warning look. “Don’t you girls have class?”

  I barely pay him any attention. My heart does a free fall through my lungs, my gut, right through me. I can’t breathe. Anger and sorrow are tearing me apart like wolves fighting over a carcass. “No,” I whisper, leaning against my locker. “That can’t be right.”