by Liz Hsu
Her words made me start to sweat. I’d never dated before. “Only if you want it to,” I managed to say without taking my eyes off the road. “Do you want it to?”
Please, say yes.
She was silent a long moment, and I held my breath as I pulled into the school lot.
“If I did?” Her voice sounded timid.
It surprised me. I didn’t risk glancing at her. I tried not to show my own nervousness—gross sweating—and keep my voice calm even as my fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“I’d be okay with that.” I’d be way more than okay with that. I wanted to kiss those lips every damn day—more than once a day.
She was quiet as I parked. And then: “Just okay?”
I turned and looked at her. Shit, did she not realize what she did to me? What she’d always done to me.
“Thrilled.” I gently threaded our fingers. “Ray, I’m busy. I’m too busy to date a lot of girls, especially if I already found the one I want.”
A look of delight overtook her face. “Well,” she said. “That’s kind of romantic.”
She gave me a peck and released my hand to jump out of the car. I took a deep breath and followed her. After a brief hesitation, I reached for her hand once more, now in view of the whole parking lot. Her lips quirked up as she once more let me take it.
The rest of the day, I felt like I was untouchable. I was dating Ray Ericson. I still couldn’t believe it.
However, by the next afternoon in Robotics Club, all my thoughts were focused on our robot. Its program wasn’t running. No matter how Dana, Kevin, and I tweaked it, it’d stop mid-program. We needed to get this done today because when the real competition rolled out next semester, we’d only be given six weeks to build the entire robot. If I didn’t get it geared up, I’d knew it’d distract me all night from my homework.
A touch on my arm startled me.
“Ray,” I said in surprise, standing up. “Here.” I took her outside the classroom so we wouldn’t have to shout over all the noise. “What are you doing here?” I nearly winced at how rough my voice was, but I hated stopping in the middle of a project.
“I had to finish a drawing. I’ve been doing some extra pieces, and once they’re graded, I can sell them,” Ray said, tucking some hair behind her ears. “I didn’t have any more blue pastels at home, and I thought you’d be able to give me a ride.” She glanced into the loud robotics room. We clearly weren’t done yet.
“Of course I can take you, but we finish at six. Just come in and maybe do some homework in the back.” I ran my hand nervously through my hair. I really couldn’t leave now, and I didn’t want to.
“I thought you finished at five. Shoot, don’t worry. I can ask Greg. I saw the football team was about to wrap up. It’s really loud in there. I’d never get anything done.”
She pulled out her phone as I said, “You should have texted me.”
She turned her face away from me. “Hey, Greg, are you still here? I need a lift.” She fell silent before continuing. “Yes, of course I still want to see your Dad’s building, but I’m out of town this weekend—sweet sixteen and all.”
Crap, crap, crap. I completely forgot about her birthday. And I wished she’d told me she was going out of town.
Her laughed chimed down the empty hallway. “You know the answer to that. No, I’ve never been to a Red Wings game. Actually, I’ve never even been to a hockey game. But let’s talk in the car. I’ll be right there.” She hung up and glanced at me. “I did text you. A few times, actually. It’s fine. I have a lot of homework, and I want to stop by The Cup and see if they’d be interested in selling any of my artwork. You know they display pieces there to sell. Art supplies are expensive, and I’m not working right now. Plus, I want to save up to pay for this architecture camp Mr. Davis mentioned. It’s not like it’s a chore. Drawing and painting—I love it.”
“That’d be cool,” I said as I pulled out my phone and grimaced. Three texts from her appeared, time-stamped between one thirty and now. “So, Savannah this weekend?”
She nodded. “Dad bought the ticket last night.”
I leaned in to whisper, “You’ll take care of yourself, right?”
“Yes, Dad,” she mocked with a bump of my shoulder.
So far, only Becky, James, and I knew about her health issues. She’d just missed the one day so far, and it wasn’t my place to talk about it.
“Charles, we need you, man,” Kevin called from the classroom.
“I should probably go too,” Ray said. “Greg’s waiting.”
It didn’t sit right that she’d rather ride with Greg than wait for me to finish. Or that they now had plans to hang out with his family.
“Can I take you out to dinner after yoga Thursday for your birthday?” I asked. I needed to do something—it was sixteen, after all.
Double crap, I needed to go shopping. What did you buy for someone’s birthday? Maybe I could ask Knox. I’d never bought a birthday gift in my life and hers was the only one I’d ever received, aside from money. Maybe art stuff—pastels. She needed pastels. Blue pastels.
“I thought you forgot,” she said, and my heart dropped with how close that was to the truth.
“Never,” I said, hoping she couldn’t hear my mounting anxiety. I hated she’d assumed, even correctly, I’d forgotten her birthday. Already, I was a shit boyfriend.
“Sure, I’ll call you later.”
I glanced around quickly to make sure the hall was deserted and then gave her a quick kiss.
As she walked away, I wondered what I should plan for our first official date and her birthday. I wasn’t surprised I hadn’t seen her messages—Robotics Club consumed me—but still, it all left a bad taste in my mouth.
By Thursday, Ray’s birthday, the weather had turned cold and a dreary rain was falling, but my palms still were sweaty as I waited to pick her up in the damp parking garage. She greeted me with a brief kiss, then we snuggled under an umbrella and I put my arm around her as we strolled down the street to a café she’d said she liked.
As soon as we got to the restaurant, Ray slipped on the wet tiles near the threshold.
“Ope!” the hostess exclaimed. “Dontcha know I just text my boss we need new a mat here.”
“It’s all right,” Ray said, but her cheeks turned fire red. Her hands clinched and her fingers pinched and rolled her tights, just below the hem of her dress.
“It was just wet, Ray. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.”
“Want a booth or high top?” I asked, letting it go, but I could tell she was nervous. She’d likely have runs in her stockings if she kept it up.
“Booth. They have hooks on the side for our jackets.”
“Follow me,” the hostess said as she grabbed our menus and led us there.
The rest of dinner was a little awkward with a few moments of halting silence. Despite years of friendship, we were now dating. Things somehow felt different. Or maybe I made it weird. I’d never dated before. But Ray seemed tense too and nearly toppled her water twice.
When we finished eating, we both seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief and things immediately felt more comfortable away from the expectations of a dinner date. When we strolled arm-in-arm down the street, just the two of us, it felt right again.
“Do you want to go in The Cup?” Ray asked, referring to the coffee shop she liked as we passed by it.
“Sure.” I let her go in as I closed the umbrella.
With our fingers intertwined, she led me to one of the walls. “A penny for your thoughts.”
I followed her gaze to a series of band drawings on display. One depicted a band from the floor of a concert venue. The crowd and band members silhouetted in pure black, lit from the lights depicted in vibrant shades of red, yellow, and orange. On the sides were smaller pictures of i
ndividual musicians in excruciating detail except for their faces: a drummer, a guitarist, and a singing duo that, even faceless, had a strong resemblance to Ray and James. Each piece had a price tag beneath it, along with a dramatic signature.
“Yours?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend if I was incorrect.
“Mine,” she replied, meeting my eyes. Her eyes were gorgeous and utterly mesmerizing.
Just then, the owner of Bob’s Bar and Bistro, where we’d seen the comedy show this summer, came in. He noticed me and ambled over. “Charles! You guys haven’t played in a while. We need to get you back on the books.”
“Sure, thank you,” I said, not meaning it. Now that I was dating Ray, I felt all of a sudden like I had too much on my plate. “Have you met Ray? She just joined the band.”
They shook hands, and he noticed the pictures. “Damn, I like those.” He pivoted toward me, asking, “What do you think?”
“I think they’re exceptional,” I said. Ray squeezed my fingers.
“No, yeah for sure. We were just talking about getting some new art in the bar.” He glanced around, then back to me. “I’ll text James about getting you guys back.”
Ray was giddy with excitement when we exited. “Do you think he’ll buy them?”
I laughed. “That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it?”
When we got back to my car in the parking structure, before I could even open the door to pull out Ray’s present, she asked me in a breathless voice, “Want to come up for a minute?”
I said yes, then grabbed her present and followed her into the dark condo.
“Dad’s teaching a graduate class tonight,” she explained as she flipped on the lights. She took my hand and led me to their sofa.
I handed her the bag and an unwrapped pad of large drawing sheets. She grinned before opening the bag. As soon as she saw the art supplies, she peppered me with kisses. I kissed her back, just as hungry for her. We soon became tangled in each other, breathless.
A loud throat-clearing jolted us apart, as if we’d been electrocuted. Ray jumped up, completely red-faced. “I thought you had class till nine?”
Professor Ericson raised an eyebrow that seemed to say clearly before shucking off his wet raincoat and hanging it on the hooks by the door. “It’s nine twenty,” he responded with his back to us.
We traded an “oh shit” look as he strode over.
“So,” he said as he glanced back and forth. “You guys a thing now?”
Ray turned even redder. “Yes, um, we just started dating,” I said.
He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Lovely, well, I’m going to shower. Ray, we need to leave for the airport at seven tomorrow morning.”
I coughed. “I should go too. I need to study.” It wasn’t a lie. This week, nearly all my thoughts had been focused on Ray, yet I had a few more things I wanted on my application before the first of November early action deadline. First quarter grades and a final piano contest in Lansing in a few weeks would be my last opportunities to make sure everything was perfect.
Ray walked me to the door, and I kissed her cheek. “I’ll text you. Happy birthday.”
As I headed to my car, I started a mental list of everything I needed to do before my early wake-up for orchestra tomorrow morning. Ouch, it was going to be a long night. Ray was amazing, but this dating thing was more stressful than I imagined.
I was still smiling about my date with Charles on my second flight the next day. There had been some bumpy moments at the café as we navigated the shift from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend, but we mellowed out as the evening progressed. Or heated up. Holy guacamole, it had been embarrassing when Dad walked in on us making out on the sofa. He hadn’t brought it up again. Gosh, he really was the opposite of Mom.
Charles was just so sweet. He’d bought me a large pack of textured colored pastel paper and a box of thirty-six dry pastels—the brand I liked—and I knew neither of those were cheap. I couldn’t believe he’d even noticed what I drew with.
He was smart. So, so stinking smart—he had above a 4.0. Still, I chewed on my lip absentmindedly, wondering if I was distracting him. Ever since I could remember, he’d talked about Caltech and getting out of Ann Arbor, away from his loving but demanding parents. Even though I knew they got along, they were strict.
Shoot, I really liked him. If we kept dating, it would be hard to say goodbye. If he went away—heck, I didn’t even know how long Dad wanted me in Ann Arbor. Maybe it was just a semester, and the way I was starting to feel about Charles would crush me when Dad sent me back to Savannah permanently.
Focus on the present, I reminded myself. Enjoy a good thing while it lasts.
Once we landed, I texted my mom, Charles vanishing from my mind as I recalled how terrible I’d felt the last time I’d flown compared to today. I wasn’t as sore as when I’d started yoga, and I was starting to slowly, so slowly, notice an improvement in my joints since I’d begun practicing. Well, that and two months on immunosuppressants and my other lupus medications. Dr. Murray had said the lupus medicines would take six weeks to really start working, and maybe I finally had a little bit more energy again. The first few weeks before I started probiotics and playing with my diet, my stomach had been a disaster. But overall, Michigan had been good for me. Those last few weeks in Savannah, I’d been tired or in pain almost every day.
It was a little frightening being back here, almost as if Savannah had poisoned me as opposed to my body having attacked itself. It was still strange to think of my body being defective. It wasn’t like I had a virus, or a tumor, that maybe one day would go away—that I could fight. I couldn’t fight this, couldn’t cure or ever get rid of it, just contain and maintain. It was still hard to comprehend that even if I got stable, at any point my body could lose it and attack my skin, joints, even organs again. It wasn’t something from the outside invading me—instead, I was defective, attacking myself.
I’d attempted to hide my crippling fear. Yoga, church, the band, and drawing helped—they all really helped. And Charles, he helped so much. But my life now held an underlying fear that at any time, any part of me could fail—and there was nothing I could do about it. My coping mechanisms helped push that worry into the farthest, smallest corner of my mind, but it was there. It woke me sweating in the night from countless nightmares I never spoke of. I didn’t want to be more of a bother.
I shook my dark thoughts away with my sweater before I headed outside. The heat of the still mid-eighty-degree weather and coastal humidity hit me like a brick as I walked toward my mom’s parked car.
She jumped out to give me a hug with genuine warmth. “Happy birthday, sweet pea!”
I tightened my hold on her. My mom. Despite how mad I was at her for many reasons, Dad’s words rang in my mind: I don’t want you to hate your mom. I didn’t want to hate her either. One day we may talk, but right now I just let myself sink into her and her overly tart, too strongly perfumed embrace.
We chatted lightly on the drive home and when we walked in the house, Gracie Mae, Mary Beth, and Matthew all ran up and smothered me with hugs. My eyes felt treacherously bright, snuggling the sweet, warm bodies of my siblings. Gracie Mae ran away and scuttled back with my present—a drawing of the two of us. Our heads were dangerously egg-shaped, hugely elongated, but it pinched my heart. Mary Beth then slid the tackiest, itchiest, gold-and-pinkest of handmade beaded bracelets onto my wrist. If that didn’t vise-grip my heart, I didn’t know what would. I might not want to move back here, but I did love them.
When Mark walked in, I thought my stepdad of thirteen years might hug me, but he just said, “Happy birthday, Rayanne,” and nodded.
Bitter disappointment gripped me like ice in my veins. I couldn’t help but think of the way Soraya had joyously greeted me—a stranger, but a welcome part of her partner’s life—and wonder why Mark had never felt that way a
bout me. I tried to be the perfect daughter—good grades, yes ma’ams, no sirs, no drinking, no sex—but no matter what, I’d never be his daughter. The realization brought me close to tears.
A loud banging on the front door startled me, and Mom motioned me to get it. Jeffery stood there, looking even bigger than the last time I’d seen him. He wasted no time in picking me up off my feet and twirling me around. He felt and smelled like home—like sweat and the briny marsh. The back of his neck, near where my face was pressed, was pink and smattered with freckles from the perpetual Southern sun.
“I missed you, honey,” he said as he lowered me back to my feet.
“Jeff,” I said affectionately as I clutched him a second too long. He was my family as much as anyone in this room.
Mom called him inside, and we all ate a quick, early dinner of shrimp and grits with Bisquick biscuits and a whole lot of butter. I thought it was generous Mom had invited Jeffery to join us. She’d even made the saltine toffee cookies I loved, and after dinner, they gave me an Amazon gift card.
“You can buy more books on your Kindle and won’t have to carry anything,” Mark said.
“Or paper, or whatever,” Mom added.
I accepted it with a smile. It was neither the worst nor the best gift I could receive. I thought of Dad’s day at the museum and shopping and Charles’s art supplies—so personal, so me.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound sincere, but all I could think about was how much I hoped Dad would let me stay with him longer when I got back.
I ran upstairs and slipped into some shorts before riding with Jeffery to his football game. He fiddled with the music before playing our song— “Cruise” by Florida Georgia Line—the one we used to sing on our bikes even before we knew or understood all the words.
“So,” Jeffery said as the song ended. “There will be a recruiter there tonight from Valdosta State. Coach asked him to keep an eye on me. If I don’t get a football scholarship, I’ll go to Armstrong for two years and transfer to the main Southern campus. But wish me luck.”