Clear

by Jessica Park

  Unbreakable. I understand it now, how powerful their friendship is. It might not be logical, but life isn’t always logical.

  “I hear you, Sam. He’s a part of your life. He’s a part of you.”

  “Yep. It’s not always easy, as you might have noticed.”

  I laugh. “I did notice. Can I ask another question?”

  “Anything.”

  “Death tripping has caused you a lot of problems even though some of it…has felt good.”

  He nods.

  “Can you die? I mean, for real? Like, not in a death-tripping way?”

  There’s a long silence before he answers, “I don’t know. I have no idea. It’s a strange feeling, not understanding my own mortality. I’m aging though, so time goes on, but…I don’t know, Stell.”

  I can tell this is a particularly uncomfortable topic for him, so I try to find something positive. “I know you say that it gives you a rush, but is there anything about it that’s just…I don’t know…fun?” I shrug. “Something harmless and not so violent?”

  Sam quickly eats another pancake. He wasn’t kidding about death tripping making him hungry. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “What is?”

  He takes another pancake from the pile on the plate and crams it into his mouth. Then, he helps me down from the counter. I follow him out to the porch that overlooks the ocean.

  Sam points down to his garden. “See that?”

  “I think it’s sweet that you have a green thumb.”

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that I made a series of the same-sized circular plots and that only the flowers are watered?”

  “Actually, I did notice that.”

  He rests his hands on the balcony and stares at the garden. “I can make it rain in circles.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep, a three-foot diameter. I actually measured. Every time I surface, I come back with a…power, an above-ground skill. Whatever. Each time I trip, I lose it and get a new one with each surface. The rain power was the last one that I surfaced with, and the only thing I could think to do with it was to water circular plots.” He looks at me and smirks. “I know. It’s not very alpha male of me.”

  “I find it kind of hot. Artistic talent and such.” I actually make him blush slightly. “Wait. Does this mean that you have another power now?”

  “Oh. I guess so.”

  Sam starts down to the dock. It seems to be where he goes for comfort, peace. I follow and slip my hand into his as we step over downed branches.

  “I’ve never found the powers to be very interesting. It’s always something pretty lame and useless. One time, I could move small objects a foot or so. Like I said, stupid stuff.”

  “I don’t think it’s stupid. So, what can you do now? How do you figure it out?”

  “Usually by accident. Or it sort of comes to me in passing.”

  “I look forward to seeing what it is.” I nudge his side with my elbow. “Maybe you can water triangular gardens this time.”

  “Very funny.”

  We sit quietly on the end of the dock. I have a hundred questions that demand answers, but I also can’t bear to ask them right now. I instinctively want to withdraw, but I don’t.

  The sound of the waves is hypnotic, and I am now overwhelmed with exhaustion, both emotional and physical. I fall against Sam, and together, we lie down, the worn wood beneath us somehow softer than it should feel. He entwines his body with mine, and we continue comforting and stabilizing each other.

  Sam says sleepily, “I can’t stand burdening you with this, but it’s a relief that you know.”

  “It’s not a burden. Knowing brings us closer.”

  With that, I am able to drift asleep.

  It must be hours later when I awake because it’s nearly pitch-black out. And I am alone on the dock.

  In an instant, I am shaky and sick. Sam’s gone. My world is going to implode again. It’s happening. I’m sure.

  “Sam!” I stand and stumble on the knotty wood. “Sam!”

  “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m here.” His voice immediately brings me down.

  But I can’t see him in the dark. My only vision comes from the moonlight reflecting in the lapping water.

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  A luminous ball appears about ten feet from me. It’s the size of a baseball, amber-colored and glowing. Sam’s face comes into view behind it. There’s enough light now that I can see his smile as he holds the swirling globe out in the palm of his hand.

  Stunned, I take a few steps toward him. “You did that?”

  “I guess so.” He tosses it into the air and then catches it.

  “Fire?” I ask.

  “No. It’s not hot.”

  Entranced, I move closer. “That’s beautiful, Sam.”

  “It kind of is, huh?”

  I squint as I examine the colors. I stand next to him and take his hand in mine. “I think you’ve come back with a very cool power this time.”

  “I don’t know what to do with it really, but I guess it’s sort of cool.”

  “Can I touch it?” I ask.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Slowly, I inch my hand to the globe. The shape breaks apart a bit at my touch, and when I move gently through the colors, what looks like pops of electricity fly off, like one of those glowing static balls.

  I smile with delight. “Did you see that? Like sparklers! Try it.”

  Sam takes a turn passing his fingers through, but he yanks me back hard when a strong burst of light erupts in his hand. “Shit. Are you okay?”

  I laugh and lean back against him. “I’m fine. Just startled. You’re right. It’s not hot.”

  Sam nuzzles my neck and kisses my chilly skin. His tongue moves against me, and I close my eyes.

  God, I have him back. “Don’t die on me again, okay?”

  “I don’t plan on it.” Suddenly, he lets out a noise and shakes his hand enough to send the glowing ball into the water. “Okay, maybe it can get a little fire-like after all. That burned pretty good.”

  “C’mere.” I lie on my stomach at the end of the dock. “Give me your hand. We’ve got an entire cold ocean.”

  He lies down next to me, and I dunk his hand in the salt water. The orb drifts in front of us, and we both watch as the current slowly takes it farther into the cove.

  “Well, I guess it floats,” he says, still in disbelief about what he created.

  I rest my head on his shoulder. “I’ll miss that glow-ball thing.”

  His free hand goes out in front of him, and he holds it steady. “Pick a color,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Pick a color. I want to try something.”

  I stare at his palm. “Um…blue?”

  He’s thinking, focusing. Within seconds, a blue orb materializes. This one has a much stronger light than the first one. He smiles.

  “Red,” I say softly.

  Sam rubs his lips together, and I wait. The ball changes color, the blue fading and quickly seeping into deep red hues. I laugh as I clap my hands together, and I list more colors. The orb turns purple, then green, and then diamond white.

  He takes his burned hand from the water and puts it next to his other. The weightless ball doubles in size, and I gasp. Sam bounces it in his hands and sits back on his knees. For a few minutes, he tosses the orb. Then, he holds it in both hands and shakes the ball hard, creating a glittery array of colors that spin and streak.

  “Huh,” he says to himself. Finally, he turns and winks at me. “Watch this.”

  With the ball in one hand, he extends his arm behind him and pitches the orb into the air. It disappears into the dark, and for a moment, I think it’s gone, swallowed by the night.

  But then, the sky ignites in flashes of color, like fireworks exploding above us and showering the sea with falling colors.

  Under the illumination, we kiss and drown in our reunion, in relief at pu
rging the truth, and in hope for the future.

  THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID FOR ANONYMITY. Having no contact with family or other people from my past is incredibly freeing. It’s remarkably easy to disappear. Hiding online is simple, and that safety is immeasurable.

  It does occur to me that my mother and sister could find me if they wanted to, but I’ve heard no word from either of them. Part of me has been waiting for them to snap into shape, for the shock of my absence to have shaken them into mental health. It’s unlikely. I know. However much I like the emotional and physical distance between us, I have thought about calling them. Guilt washes over me each time I consider it, but I suppose it’s normal to wish I could have a relationship with my family. I’ve taken to doing online searches for my father, and I can’t tell if I’m happy or tormented that I can’t find one thing about him.

  What helps counterbalance disappointment in my own family is the joy of having Sam as part of my new world.

  Sam and I just had dinner in town with Kelly and April, both of whom I absolutely adore.

  Now that we’re into July, the streets have filled up with vacationing families, couples, hiking and boating enthusiasts, and weekenders looking to escape Boston or New York for a long weekend.

  The inn has been packed, so Sam has had plenty of work to do. I go in and help out, too, a few days a week. It’s an excuse to spend time with Felicia and Micah, whom I’ve grown very fond of, and I like working the dining room and readying guest rooms. Felicia scolds me because I won’t take her money, but I haven’t been able to get Sam to cash any of my rent checks, so fair is fair.

  At his parents’ insistence, Sam has the day off tomorrow, and because I just finished three graphic projects for clients, I’m giving myself a day, too. Sam raved so much about the work I’d completed until I was full-on blushing and actually feeling quite proud of myself. Sam is going to take me on a short hike to Seal Cove, and if we’re lucky, we’ll actually get to see seals sunning themselves on rocks, which I would absolutely love.

  I’m watching Sam fold laundry now, noticing what neat piles he makes as he stacks shirts and pants on the couch in his living room. The dichotomy between the side of him that is so rough and rugged and dirty when he works on the house or helps on fishing boats with this softer, more domestic side intrigues me. It’s the death tripper in him versus the sensitive, gentle human being.

  I lean back into the armchair and look up at the ceiling. “Nice job with the lights, Bishop.”

  He smiles. “Glad you like them.”

  Hundreds of pale white and pink glowing balls hang in the air above us, spreading a soft hue over the room. Each is smaller than a golf ball, and they move a bit as though not entirely stable, but it gives them a look of life and personality. Over the past few weeks, Sam has been playing around with his new light power, and he’s found that he has a lot more control than he has had in the past. I also enjoy pushing him to try new things, and I find what he can do utterly enchanting.

  “Think you can light up the fireplace, too? It’s cool again tonight.”

  “It is not that cold, silly. But whatever the lady wants…”

  He focuses on the hearth, and I turn to watch. Eight deep purple and pale violet orbs appear and bounce in the fireplace. Sam sets down the sweater he’s folding and goes to the lights. When he swipes a hand through them, they burst like bubbles and shift to look like flames. Immediately, I feel the heat radiate, and I move next to him by the fire and lie down on the rug. The colors are beyond beautiful, vibrant. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in the real world before.

  It’s taken work for me to process that death tripping is real, to reconcile that the world as I understood it actually includes something as unbelievable as what Sam and Costa can do. But my only choice is to accept it, which I can do because of how much Sam means to me and because he’s made such an effort to ground me even in this whirlwind.

  Sam lies down behind me and puts an arm over my waist. “Too hot?” he asks.

  “Maybe a little.”

  An arctic blast shoots from the fireplace. “Sorry, sorry!” Sam puts out a hand, and the temperature levels to a comfortable warmth. “Got a little carried away there.”

  I roll onto my back and look up at Sam. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

  “Because I make light?” The corners of his eyes crinkle adorably as he smiles and leans in to quickly kiss me.

  “Because you make everything.” I brush back his hair, now streaked with more blond and auburn because of his time in the sun, and I run the back of my hand over his tan face.

  “Stella…” he starts. “I can’t believe you’re with me. After everything.”

  “You’re with me, too. After all my everythings. I told you before that we both have a past.”

  “And one of us has a rather strange present.”

  “We are the present, and it’s beautiful.” I tug on his T-shirt and bring him close.

  Every time we kiss, my whole being reacts so strongly, like it’s the first time that we’ve done this. I can’t get used to the strength of our attraction, but I don’t mind. While there is familiarity and comfort in his kiss, it’s also equally exciting and dizzying.

  “I love you, Stella. With every part of me, I love you.”

  This is the first time he’s said that. I said it when he was in my arms, bleeding and dying, but I haven’t said it since. I didn’t know if it was allowed, if I should dare say it outside of a crisis. But now, he’s said it. He’s made it real.

  “And I love you, Sam. I am so clear when I’m with you.”

  “Even with the world I’ve shown you?”

  “Yes, even with that.”

  “It’s done, you know? You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to trip again.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “I’m not, Stell. I don’t want that. I don’t need it.”

  “I know, Sam.”

  “I just need you.” His hand moves to my leg, and he pushes my dress up. “And I can’t tell you that enough. But maybe I can show you.”

  He leans over me and kisses his way up my thigh until I can feel his breath over my underwear. He slips it down and then with one touch of his tongue, he quickly sends me into sexual oblivion. Only Sam can get me this crazed so fast, and I let myself take in every sensation of his mouth. He pulls me against him, showing me how much he loves this. He is slow and methodical in what he does. First, his tongue barely moves over me, something he now knows gets me squirmy and breathless. Later, in the heat of it, Sam’s hand and mouth work faster and harder until I can’t control the way my thighs tremble, and he makes me come so hard that I’m nearly blinded by the force of it.

  I’m still panting when he crawls up, but I grab him by his waistband and hold him against me while I catch my breath.

  “You okay there, sport?” he asks, laughing lightly.

  I nod. “Holy shit.”

  He lets me recover and kisses my neck and shoulders until I can breathe again.

  “Sam?”

  “Hmm?” His mouth is still exploring my skin.

  “Sam? I need to tell you something. For real.”

  “Anything.” He moves onto his side and props himself up on an elbow.

  Now that he’s waiting on me, I’m uncomfortable. But I need to say this. “What you just did for me? I…I haven’t done for you yet.”

  “Stell—”

  “No, it’s true. You can’t pretend it isn’t. I feel like I spend half the time I’m awake with your mouth between my legs.”

  He smiles flirtatiously at me. “I like it down there.”

  “Well, I do, too. Trust me. But…” I hate what I’m about to say. “Before, when I was with Jay, he made it…awful. I know it wouldn’t be like that with you, but I have this bad association.”

  “That’s not how it’s ever supposed to be. And I’d like to go a round or ten with that asshole for how he treated you.” His expression softens and is so full
of understanding. “You don’t ever have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with. You know that, right? I don’t need you to go down on me in order for me to be crazy about you or to be crazy about how good it feels to be with you.”

  I roll my eyes. “You might be the best guy in the world, but you’re still a guy. It’s kind of normal to want a blow job now and then.”

  Sam is trying not to laugh, and he bites his lip. “Okay, sure. I can’t say that I don’t think about it ever. But who cares? It’s just not that big of a deal to me. I want you to be happy and comfortable. And occasionally in ecstasy.” He brushes his lips over mine. “And, Stella? You don’t have to justify this to me. What you want or don’t want is up to you.”

  I move a hand to the top of his pants and undo the button. Then, I ease down the zipper. “I’m telling you this because of how comfortable I am with you. You make everything safe. You make me want what I didn’t know I could have.” I press against his shoulder and move him onto his back. “I want this for me.” His pants and boxers come off easily, and I move to hold myself above him.

  When I run my tongue over his length, Sam groans and runs his hands through his hair. “Are you sure? It’s okay if—”

  I stop him by putting my mouth around his cock, and a rush of pleasure runs through me. He feels so good. I didn’t want to do this until I was sure that it would feel right. The last thing I wanted was to get myself in a situation where I might feel negatively about doing anything with Sam. I am immensely grateful for his understanding, so I plan on showing him just how grateful.

  There’s not one part of me that is not fully absorbed with touching him, tasting him, and feeling how he grows harder in my mouth with each move I make. I wrap one hand around him and move along with my mouth. Sam finds my free hand, and his palm presses against mine. His fingers hold on, tightening, as I bring him closer. It’s his way of telling me to stay present, that he’s here with me, and it makes me want to prolong this as much as possible.

  So, I slow down. I tease. I learn to enjoy what was once about being dominated, controlled, used, what used to make me choke and gag and hate myself. Sam’s response to me—the subtle way he lifts his hips in rhythm to my mouth, the connection he solidifies by holding my hand, and the perfect sounds of sexual pleasure he lets out—undoes the damage from my past.