“Bullseye.” I said, letting out a breath and leaning my head back on the couch. “I feel like an asshole. One of my first nuggets was going to be spent on a donation to some local charities. But I also know I'm not going to single-handedly change the world and still be able to stay under the radar.”
“Chance, promise me something?” Grace looked at me and waited for me to look back, When I nodded to show I was paying attention, she went on. “Don't ever lie to me about any of this. It's one thing if you say you can't tell me, but please just don't ever lie. If you discover that there are fairies that eat eyeballs and drink spinal fluid, or that there's a government agency out to kill you, I want to know. I'll help you keep your secret but you can't keep secrets from me, even if you think it's to protect me.”
“Boy we're just knocking out all the heavy shit right here and now, huh?” I said.
“You're dodging the question.” She said and crossed her arms.
“No, I'm not. I promise, I won't keep any secrets from you, except if I find something out that will literally kill you the second I tell you. And you have to tell me if you're scared or worried or upset, or ashamed and definitely tell me if the opposite happens too. Cheesy or not, if we're in this together like a family, that honesty and communication has to go both ways. Deal?”
I expected her to agree, since that's where I thought this was going, but she surprised me by saying “What do you mean 'like a family'?”
“Huh?” I said, my thought process seriously derailed.
“When you say 'like a family,' what does that mean? Like a crime family?” Grace turned in her spot so now her knees were more pointed at mine and her arm was resting on the back of the couch.
“No, not at all, although the secrecy thing certainly involves some of that, I guess.”
“Chance, this is important to me. You know I'm not great with subtle emotional nuance stuff. Let me rephrase my question. How exactly would you describe our relationship in the future scenario you've been presenting all night?”
10
“Oh, uh, wow.” I said. Coming from any other girl, this might have seemed like a trap sort of question, or at the very least one with a definite right and wrong answer. Grace was not great at expressing her feelings, so I wasn't sure if she was trying to hint that she felt differently than she thought I did. But my answer was complex, and it made me nervous about defining what sort of relationship I felt Grace and I shared. But, I had to trust Grace now or all of this was doomed to fail.
“Grace, it's hard to describe so let me talk it through.”
Grace nodded and gestured for me to continue.
'We were friends as kids and growing up, you were practically a sibling for me. You're five or six years younger than me, and as kids that mattered a lot. When you moved here with your grandma, you were in middle school and I was almost in college. When I moved here and we reconnected, it was easiest for me to fall back into that sort of relationship again. It would have made me feel creepy to admit to myself that you've grown up into a beautiful young woman. But, that doesn't mean I think it's any less true.
More importantly than that, though, is you are crazy smart. I may be older but I've always admired your talent, your ability to take on obstacles bigger than you, and now even handle a kind of grief I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. If this whole tablet thing hadn't happened, I figured you'd be on the fast track toward a doctorate at one of the best colleges in the world in a year and you'd be out of my life again.”
Right now, I am unsure if you see me as a sibling, a friend, or anything more or less. I wasn't ever going to push it because I didn't want to risk pushing you away faster than your life was likely going to take you. Saturday night, you said you loved me, and I love you too, but frankly I think it would help me a lot to know if the love you feel is familial or not. If you think of me as a sibling, I'll do my best to live up to the kind of sibling I think you deserve. I think I'm able to handle any feelings of attraction I have that aren't reciprocated.”
“You seem pretty intent to emphasize the non-romantic part. What if I was attracted to you?”
“Are you?” I asked.
“I am.” she said as plainly as if confirming that the lights were on.
“Then that's the best thing I've learned this year.” My heart was racing in my chest. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next but it felt like one of those allergy commercials where they peel off a misty filter to reveal the bright reality that you were missing without medication. Grace calmly turned back so we were facing the same direction again, but scooted closer to me on the couch so her hip was up against mine. Then she rested her head on my left shoulder.
“We're not kids anymore. I think it's okay for us to notice each other.”
I could feel the heat in my face as I became even more aware of how close we were.
“I also think you should trim your beard down.” she said. I turned my head to look at her face and saw a huge grin on her face, and she was squeezing her eyes so tightly I was sure she was trying to contain a laugh.
All semblance of flirtatious tension from the moment gone, I cast my right arm skyward, shaking a fist at an unseen entity in that direction. “Why does nobody appreciate my beard?”
“Oh I appreciate it, it's very manly, but it's hard enough to take you seriously when you don't look like you're coming on a longboat to raze my village and steal all our sheep.” The dam broke, and she burst out into the loudest laugh I'd ever heard her make since before she moved away. Unable to sit upright, even leaning on me, she rolled onto the floor between my couch and the coffee table and rested her head on my left foot.
“Come on!” I said, “Is it that bad?” I stroked the hair I'd worked so hard to shape and groom into a style I liked.
“Oh, god, Chance, the first time Grandma saw you with that beard she was like 'Sugar, can you please tell him he looks like a reject from Captain Hook?'”
“Wow,” I said. “Just, wow.”
“Can I touch it?” Grace sat up from the floor
“You just told me you think it looks stupid.” I leaned back in my seat as if expecting her to make a grab for it.
“I said I can't take you seriously. I can't take a puppy seriously but I'd still enjoy giving it a scratch behind the ears.” She stood up and leaned forward so she could examine my face a bit more closely.
“Did you just call my beard a puppy?”
“Can I touch it or not?” she practically whined.
“Sure, I guess.” I tilted my head back and jutted my chin forward so she could touch my face. Grace slowly reached out and gingerly let her fingers glance along my beard without touching my cheek or chin. The moment she felt it, she pulled her arm back a little.
“It's so...soft. I thought it would be more bristly.” She brought her hands back and began to run her fingers through it in earnest, letting out contemplative 'huh's and 'hmm's.
“You're touching my face, not discovering an alien species.” I grumbled quietly after a minute or so.
Grace pulled her hands away and kissed me. It was a soft, tentative embrace of her lips on mine, and when we both started to move our mouths with a bit more urgency, she pulled away.
“What, what's wrong?” I asked, mortified.
“Your mustache hair.” She snorted, rubbing her nostrils with the back of her hand. “It went straight up my nose. I'm gonna sneeze.”
Feeling defeated, I leaned my head back against the couch again. “Fine. I'll shave tomorrow.” I said.
“Oh, shit, I just remembered I have another final tomorrow. I need to do some studying and get some sleep.” she turned to face my apartment door, biting her nails. I brought my hand to my own mouth and feigned a shocked expression.
“Did...did I just see Hurricane Grace Jones look indecisive?”
“Shut up.” she said. “I hate that name. And all the weather puns you come up with too. Jesus, Chance we just kissed after having a really intense discussion and you'r
e making fun of my name.”
I put my hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You're right. I'm just surprised to see you look so...vulnerable. It's actually kind of adorable.”
“Fuck you.” she said, smiling as she chewed her nail one more time. “I can't decide if I want to study here or back at Grandma's. I feel like leaving after the heavy talking would suck but also I don't want to be distracted.” she finished before quickly adding, “or teased.”
11
Grace wound up grabbing her laptop and books from her Grandma's place after making me promise not to bug her while she reviewed for the AP Psychology exam she had the next day. I went back to cleaning up my place, focusing on the buildup of laundry I'd accumulated over the week. When the first load was out of the wash, I thought about the possibility of doing my laundry with the tablet. I felt like an idiot for not coming up with it sooner.
After getting Grace's approval to give it a shot, I placed the full basket of wet clothes on the tablet, prepared to fall onto the couch when the heavy weight left my arms and swam into my head. Instantly, I felt like I'd just slammed half a bottle of bourbon and scrambled to put my hand on the tablet.
“The basket of laundry I just put in a few seconds ago but clean, dry, and folded.” I managed to get out before gravity's threat to pull me to the floor by my belly-button could come to pass. I steadied myself on the basket, which had just reappeared on top of the tablet again,
“Hell yeah!” I said. “No more taking three hours or a boatload of quarters at the laundromat.” pumped my fist in victory as the headache slowly crept in. Just like before, it seemed that the more I used the tablet, the easier it was to convert large masses at a time. I finished the rest of my laundry in two minutes, and since it was folded when it came out, it was easy to just magically clean my whole wardrobe and put it away. When I was done, my dresser was more organized than I'd ever had it before, and I'd been thrilled when was able to take a lot of my mismatched socks and just turn them into exact replicas of my favorite pair.
With all my chores done, and Grace still studying, I sat at my computer desk to look for jewelry stores that bought gold, Before I started, I went online and bought one of those privacy protection services. I'd like to take credit for the idea, but Grace told me to do it once I was seated. Once I was browsing privately, I got to the task at hand. A little research told me that most pawn shops only paid about sixty percent of gold value by weight, so at its current value my gold was worth just under eight-hundred dollars an ounce. But local gold dealers were better equipped to make larger purchases at a better percentage. I worked on a bullet-point plan on my computer, and once Grace was satisfied that it would work, I printed it off.
By the time I was done, Grace had finished her studying session and had headed out without saying goodbye, which wasn't too out of the ordinary for her. What I didn't expect was to have her come back into my place in her pajama shorts with the flaming chill peppers pattern and a tank top with a logo from an old video game. The tank top hugged her torso like it was tailor-made for her body shape, and the dark caramel color of her skin was smooth as silk. The dark chocolate curls of her hair were tied back, giving her a girl-next-door look that was attractive but graceful since she carried herself like the warrior I knew she was. When she saw my surprise she stiffened slightly and asked if she could crash at my place again. Any sense of timidness from earlier was gone.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, “But I've been keeping the heat a little low. Aren't you going to be a little cold?”
“I was thinking about that, and I'd like to sleep next to you if that's okay.” Any sense of timidness from earlier that evening was gone from her voice. I took note of her use of the words 'sleep next to' instead of 'sleep with.' I guess she wanted to be extra careful not to insinuate that anything other than sleep might happen.
I nodded, “Yeah, that's fine. I throw off body heat like a chronic fever. It's hell in the summer but it's nice around this time of year.”
“Okay.” She nodded and just walked right over to my bedroom door. From where I was sitting, I could see her crawl onto my bed. I caught a brief glimpse of her rear as she was on hands and knees pulling the covers back to get under the freshly laundered sheets. Absently, I wondered where she expected me to change into my own night-time clothing. A yawn hit me like a freight train, and I lost all ability to worry about it anymore. I strode into my room like I owned the place, grabbed some clothes I wouldn't mind sleeping in, and changed in the bathroom.
I turned off all the other lights in my apartment before getting to the bedroom light switch. I looked at Grace and she was laying on her side, facing away from the center of the bed, The heavy blankets and extra quilt muted the curves of her resting form. I hit the switch and walked over to the other side of the bed and gently climbed in, laying on my back. My ex girlfriend hadn't been a huge fan of cuddling, so I didn't expect Grace to get more close than she was able to be comfortable. I hadn't been there more than a few seconds before Grace rolled over and lifted my arm up so I could have it around her while she rested her head on my shoulder. Then she stretched her arm across my chest and let it lay there. I didn't tense up, or even feel as anxious as I think I would have with anyone else.
“You really are warm,” she commented drowsily. I just gave Grace a gentle press with my arm and we both stayed like that until we fell sleep holding each other.
12
Grace's alarm woke us up the next morning. I felt more rested than I remember ever feeling, and set about making toast and a pot of coffee. When she emerged, still half-dazed, from my bedroom, she yipped and jumped away the moment her feet touched the cold linoleum of my kitchen floor.
“You're turning your heat up tonight,” she proclaimed, making it clear she intended to stay here again. I smiled and handed her a cup of coffee.
“Okay. I'll turn the heat up. Sleep okay?”
“Yes. Also, you snore.” For all her strengths and virtues, Grace was definitely not a morning person. Normally, I wasn't either, but so long as I didn't knock myself out by using the tablet, I felt fine.
“Sorry about that, I hope it wasn't too bad.”
“It was like spooning a grizzly bear.” Grace pointed accusingly at my beard.
“Okay, fine, I'll shave before I go out today. I promise. Do you need a ride to school?”
“My car's more likely to start in the cold than yours.” Grace sipped the coffee and seemed to become more human by the second.
“Okay then. Let me know if there's anything else you need. I'm going to hop in the shower.”
After I'd showered and made my tearful goodbyes to my beard, I stepped out of my bathroom to find once again that Grace was gone and a note was taped to my apartment door. Peeling it off, I saw that it was a list of things she wanted me to buy after my other errands. I let out a laugh. For someone so worried about the effect that wealth might have on me, she seemed okay giving suggestions on how to spend it. Pretending to be incredulous, I talked to myself as I put on my coat and grabbed my bag full of gold. “What am I going to do with her? First the heat, and now she wants me to pick up groceries.” I tossed my bag onto the seat next to me and looked at my reflection in the rear view mirror. “But she's worth it.”
“Who's worth it?” A feminine voice from the backseat suddenly spoke, practically right in my ear. I'm not proud of the scream that escaped me, and to this day I will insist that my car had just filled with helium to make me produce a sound that high pitched. I whipped around in my seat, expecting to see some secret-agent type with a gun pointed at my face. But all three spots of the car's rear passenger area were empty.
“Who said that?” I asked, eyes darting around my car to find a speaker or hidden device of any kind.
“Down here, buck-o.” the voice came again. It was high pitched and tiny, but it was unmistakably feminine. I looked down at the floor of the backseat of my car, guided by the second instance of the little voice. Sitting on an old winter boot
I never remembered to throw away was a figure that couldn't have stood more than a foot tall. She wore miniature clothes that looked like they'd come from a child's dollhouse, and she had one of those craft knives with a one inch razor blade across her lap like a spear. She was using a file broken off a nail clipper to tend to her tiny digits, and looked up at me with an annoyed face beneath a head of hair the color of polished copper.
It took me a second but I recognized her tiny face. She was missing a set of thick glasses, but she looked like the girl who was working at Aggies Agates the day I bought the tablet.
“Gem shop girl?” I asked.
“Oh, good, so you're just an absent-minded creep and not brain damaged.” She quipped. “I've been waiting here since Saturday. Also I liked your face better when it was covered up by that god-awful beard.”
“Ouch. I wound up in the hospital on Saturday. Why are you tiny?”
“We'll do the whole questions song and dance later, pal, for now, you need to start driving. Except you're not headed to the gold dealer like you're probably thinking, because that would get you killed.” She went through the words like it was something she'd rehearsed. I guess she might have if she had been in here since Saturday. “And can you turn the heat on already? It's fucking freezing and this doll outfit doesn't do much to keep me from freezing my tiny tits off and if I spend another minute inside that smelly boot I'm going to die.”
“My car's heat doesn't work. Also, if you've been here since Saturday, how come you didn't say anything when I was going to work yesterday, or to the store, or any of the other time I've been driving? Also, did you just threaten to kill me with that little box cutter?”
Arbiter's Word (Alchemist's Fire Book 1) Page 5