Alisiyad

by Sarah R. Suleski

  He had awakened to find the real Liseli in his bedroom, shaking him awake, and after that he’d felt guilty about what he’d been dreaming. For one fearful, embarrassing moment he’d felt as if the dream was imprinted in his eyes for her to see and understand, but as he awakened further the feeling passed.

  She’s so soft and small, he thought, burying a hand in her river of hair, reaching his fingertips through to rub small circles on her warm skin. Sleeping, legs curled up against him, she seemed so sweet. Vulnerable, even. Almost like his living doll to hold. This was a side of Liseli he’d never known. Which of her sides were real? He wondered. Could she mean everything she said and did equally? It seemed impossible, but he didn’t know.

  She had been very scared. So scared that she came to him — Russ the big oaf she could barely stand — and stayed with him rather than go back to her own room. And not just stayed with, given herself to him. He marveled over it, fighting exhaustion and sleep just to soak in the feeling a little while longer. She trusted him now with her most defenseless state, fallen asleep quickly and completely.

  But . . . on the other hand . . . she’d said clearly that she “just didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.” He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. Did that mean that she only needed someone, anyone, to comfort her? He was the only one around and that was all? Would morning find her distant again, dismayed to wake up in his bed, scoffing at her fear and denying the passion she had shown him? He didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t care, he thought. Maybe. He was glad to be the only one around, glad it had worked out this night. Glad she was naked against him, sleeping. She could use him for whatever she needed, for as many nights as she wanted to, and he told himself nothing else mattered.

  Chapter 13 ~ Roller Coaster

  Liseli woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of herself again. There was a cool breeze on her face and a warm breath on her neck. Russ was holding her close to him, one hand spread out over her stomach, the other cupped her right breast. His hands were large and warm, his arms felt very heavy draped around her. She almost felt as if she couldn’t move.

  Liseli opened her eyes and watched the curtains flapping lazily. They’d left the balcony doors open, last night, but pulled the curtains closed. Patches of sunlight flooded the room momentarily, then subsided as the curtains swayed back toward the balcony. Russ twitched briefly in his sleep. Liseli closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but she could still sense the shift of light, from dark and cool to bright and warm with every swish of the curtains against the floor.

  She moved Russ’s hands and carefully turned over. He rolled onto his back and sighed but didn’t wake up. She kissed the underside of his jaw, then watched him for a moment before laying her head on the pillow near his shoulder. She closed her eyes. She could still hear the curtains . . . .

  . . . Swish.

  Swish . . . .

  . . . Swish.

  Liseli . . . .

  Her eyes flew open, and she lifted her head to look back over her shoulder at the curtains. But they were just curtains, making no noise other than the quiet swishing. She lowered her head back down and squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing into the pillow.

  It was a problem. Her mind was awake now, and if she tried to lie still in bed it would just wander in and out of shallow dreaming. But she didn’t want to wake Russ. Not just yet. She eased out of bed and straightened the blankets over him. She gathered up her clothes, yawning. She’d been able to sleep without further dreams, but still . . . all in all it hadn’t been a restful night. She went into the bathroom.

  Later she was soaking in the low tub, the ends of her hair flat and wet around her shoulders. She looked down at her body, wiggling her toes, and thought about Russ. Her Russ? Was he really? She was afraid of the answer. He was like a store full of glass and china. Hers to break. He was sleeping like a baby in the next room, and when he woke up the taste of her would be in his mouth, and he had made love to her like it was the best thing that had ever happened in his entire life, and, oh God, it was to her, it was—

  She was crying. A tear dripped off her chin and landed in the water with a plop. She sucked in a shaky breath. She didn’t know if she was happy or sad.

  You don’t know what you are anymore.

  She lay down in the tub, submerging herself completely, and listened to the water flooding her ears.

  * * *

  Liseli was drying her hair; first squeezing the ends over the tub, then patting it with a towel and dragging a comb through the knots. She heard the sound of a door opening, and froze.

  “What?” said Russ’s voice sleepily.

  “Good morning, sir. Did you sleep well last night?” It was a servant.

  A pause. “Uh, yeah.” Russ didn’t sound very convincing. Not very happy, either.

  Why? But he did, Liseli thought. He’d been sleeping very soundly.

  “Very good.” She listened closely; the servant was moving around the room, picking up Russ’s clothes, drawing back the curtains, shutting the doors and latching them.

  “Breakfast will be served for the Mayor and family out in the garden in thirty minutes,” the servant said. “You are invited. I will escort you.”

  “Okay. No, thanks. I mean, I can find them—”

  “They will be in the pavilion.”

  “Right. Pavilion.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “Yeah.” It sounded like a lie. But the servant accepted it.

  “Would you like me to draw you a bath, sir?”

  Oh, God.

  “Um . . . sure, thanks.”

  That idiot! Doesn’t he know I’m in here?

  She panicked for a moment, looking for a place to hide, then threw herself at the door and leaned against it heavily, holding the handle. She was only wearing the thin nightgown, and it clung to her damp skin. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to be there at all. In a moment she felt the servant jiggling the handle on the other side, trying to push the door in. After a struggle: “It seems your door is stuck, sir.”

  “Oh. Really. Well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll smell bad and piss behind a tree,” Russ said, with uncharacteristic testiness. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Whoa . . . . Liseli wondered why he was so upset.

  The servant let up on the door and said, miffed, “I will be going then. Unless there is anything else you need.”

  “No. Thanks.”

  There was a knock at the hallway door, and the servant asked, “Shall I answer that, sir?”

  “Everyone just comes in here, anyway.”

  “I will get it.”

  The door opened, and a female voice spoke, “Excuse me. Miss Eliasha asked me to bring this over to your room.”

  “Really.” Russ sounded confused. “That can’t be for me.”

  “I would hope not, sir,” the male servant said dryly.

  What? Liseli wished she could see through the door.

  “There is a note,” said the female servant. “Shall I leave it here?”

  “Fine. Sure.”

  After a moment the door shut, and the room was quiet. She heard the bed creak. The door to the bathroom opened, she stepped back.

  “Oh.” Russ looked surprised. He was naked, and self-consciously moved his hands down to cover himself. “I, uh, thought you’d . . . left.”

  “No.” She smiled faintly at his modesty. “I would have said so if I had.”

  “Would you?” He looked at her strangely, and she was confused.

  “ . . . Yeah.” She felt goosebumps on her skin as her hair hung wet and cold against her shoulders. Russ was behaving coldly. He was never that way. Not to her.

  “Well.” She looked down, then began to walk past him out the door, saying, “I suppose you want to use the toilet.”

  “Um, Liseli.” He blocked the way, putting a hand on her arm.

  She stopped and looked ahead. She couldn’t stand it. “What’s wrong?” />
  “Nothing.” He pulled her closer and hugged her tightly to his chest. He lowered his head to kiss her, but she didn’t relax, not liking the evasive reply. When he drew back she ducked out of his arms and went into the bedroom.

  “Eliasha sent you a present,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

  “What?”

  “It’s on the bed.”

  Chapter 13 ~ Roller Coaster, part 2

  Liseli walked over to the bed, seeing something white lying across the foot of it. It was a dress. She picked up the note and read it to herself:

  Liseli,

  I went through my chest of old things and found this dress I that wore a couple years ago for the festival. I usually give my old dresses away, but this was a particular favorite and I held onto it for sentimental reasons. It was my “coming of age” 15th birthday dress, the white symbolizes youth and purity and the purple and emerald trim is to symbolize the maturity and fertility to come. But there is no reason why you cannot wear it. I was only a little shorter than I am now, so I hope this will fit you better than the other dress.

  Eliasha

  She lowered the paper slowly and looked at Russ.

  “What?”

  “Well . . . .” She studied the message again; “she’s calling me a slut.”

  “Oh come on. What makes you think—”

  “It’s a white dress, Russell. She says, ‘the white symbolizes youth and purity . . . but there is no reason why you cannot wear it.’” Liseli mimicked Eliasha’s teasing tone of voice. “That’s sarcasm.”

  “I still don’t get it.” He shrugged. “You’re not—”

  “I’m not pure,” she huffed, giving him a glare. He winced. Liseli slapped the paper against her other hand, “She saw me last night. On the balcony. And she knows why I was outside your room. She knows what we were doing.”

  Russ scratched his head. “She probably didn’t mean it . . . that way. Anyway, it doesn’t make you a—” he couldn’t say the word “—a-at least I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t? Really,” Liseli hugged herself and hunched her shoulders, looking down. “Then you must not be the guy who fucked me last night.”

  He turned and deliberately banged his forehead against the doorframe. He held it there for a moment, then backed into the bathroom and shut the door without a word. Liseli felt stung. She blinked rapidly and sat down on the edge of the bed. He did think it, because it was true. Fucking. Yes, she thought sickly. That’s all it was, wasn’t it? You made yourself into what you’ve criticized Mom and Leona for being, but you are worse, you are a hypocrite besides. Liseli thought she was in danger of crying again, but she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, and didn’t.

  After a moment she lowered her hands and picked up the dress, holding it in her lap and studying it. She thought about Eliasha and remembered yesterday’s meeting in the garden. Perhaps it was good that the impertinent little girl knew. The thought calmed her, lifting her up. Russ is mine, inside and out. You know it. You have no place in any of it. She smiled grimly. She’d won, really. Eliasha was just a poor loser.

  It was a pretty dress, though. The green trim matched her eyes. She’d wear it anyway, if it really did fit better.

  Just as she made this resolution Russ came out of the bathroom. He still seemed miffed about her last statement, and started to get dressed as if she wasn’t there. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he pulled on his jeans.

  “Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

  “Don’t need one.”

  “You were sweating.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched. “A little sweat never killed anyone.” He yanked his tee shirt on over his head.

  “At least shave before we go down to the pavilion for breakfast.”

  “I don’t want to. I almost cut my throat yesterday,” he said, shrugging into his button-up shirt, which he’d only ever buttoned up last night as far as she remembered.

  “Yeah, well you didn’t. And you’re not going to show up at the big festival hoo-rah looking like a bum. And wear that black shirt they gave you, instead.”

  “Why?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You said it made me look like a weird painting.”

  “I like weird paintings.” She tilted her chin up as she raised her eyebrows at him. “You wear black and I’ll wear white. We’ll be black and white.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “You’re not upset about it anymore,” he stated, with a suspicious squint.

  “I’ll live,” she said dryly. “Eliasha’s note just . . . well, I’m not letting her get under my skin. There. Anyway, I don’t know why you’re acting all pissed off about it for.”

  “Oh yeah? If you’re a ‘slut’ what does that make me? A stupid fucking john or something?” He crossed his arms and glared. Liseli was taken aback by the unfamiliar expression, and she wanted to slap him again. Instead she just clenched the dress in her hands.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, biting off her words.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sincere.

  A flash of anger returned. “I know I’m the one who came in here and . . . and threw myself at you. No one’s accusing you of anything, so stop making this about you.”

  “Oh.” He threw his hands up and looked to the ceiling. “That’s it. That’s just it. I don’t even matter to you.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” Liseli stood up and threw the dress on the bed. Why were they even arguing about this? Hadn’t she decided not to let it bother her? But he just wouldn’t let it go, would he?

  “You just don’t understand,” she sighed. “I was proud of my virginity, and I . . . well, you’re a guy and it’s not like that for you.” She paused, and quieted. “Were you even . . . ?”

  “Guess.” He was locked onto the ceiling and wouldn’t look down.

  “Well,” she sniffed, “there was Marcy, so—”

  “Please.” He made a face at the crossbeams.

  Liseli didn’t say anything, but the knowledge made her feel better.

  Russ looked down again, and cleared his throat in the awkward silence. “Look,” he said, then stopped and glanced to the side, saying something under his breath which she didn’t ask him to repeat. Finally he put his hands on her shoulders and said, “No one’s calling you a slut but yourself. ‘Easy’ doesn’t even come close to what you are. Gimme a break.”

  “What am I then?” She folded her hands and arched an eyebrow expectantly.

  “You . . . ” he paused, then moved his hands down to her arms. “You’re a . . . an island.”

  Huh? “Yeah, sure.”

  “Let me finish.” His wrinkled his forehead in deep thought. “And I’m . . . um . . . it’s like I’m shipwrecked. On you.”

  “Right.” She shook her head, then brushed his hands from her arms. “Go shave, Russ.”

  “You’re not listening.”

  “Your analogy doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Forget it, then.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I know you don’t think I give a damn about anything besides sex. So maybe I won’t.”

  “Oh, what is that?” Liseli rolled her eyes. “A threat to stop being your paragon of sensitivity self?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and she didn’t think he really knew what “paragon” meant.

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

  He backed up, but he wasn’t finished. “You know, it meant something to me.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “Last night. I thought you needed me. I liked that.”

  She picked up the black shirt and threw it at him. “I want you to wear that one.”

  He caught it. “Lis—”

  “Look.” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you love me?”

  “I . . . .” His eyes went wide and he paused with his mouth open warily.

  “Because I don’t know,” she said. “I’d like to think that’s the only reason I’d ever sle
ep with a guy. But . . . but . . . just go, okay? We’re going to be late for breakfast.” She waved her hands at him.

  Russ sighed and slapped the shirt against his leg before retreating to the bathroom, shutting the door with a bang. Liseli sat back down on the bed and studied Eliasha’s dress. He can’t answer the question. She wasn’t sure why it made any difference.

  * * *

  When Russ came out, face still tingling from the dangerous shave, he saw Liseli sitting at the bureau braiding her hair. The white dress rested lightly on her shoulders and swept low across her chest, leaving the beginning swell of her breasts visible. He didn’t regret anything he’d done last night. It had gotten him into trouble, but didn’t everything?

  She glanced at him and said, “Tuck your shirt in.”

  “I don’t like the way it looks tucked in. It looks nerdy.”

  “Russ.”

  “Okay.” He tucked his shirt in, watching her weaving her fingers through her hair. It wasn’t as curly when wet, but the ends and the tendrils around her face were drying to damp and twirling into the familiar kinks. He took a deep breath. If he was going to do this he had better do it now. “I have a present for you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “I’m braid—”

  “Just close ’em, you can finish in a moment.”

  She gave him a look that said this better not be a joke, then sat up a little straighter and closed her eyes. Russ opened the bureau drawer and took out the necklace, trying not to make any telltale noise. She continued to braid her hair with her eyes shut.

  He squinted at the clasp, undoing it slowly so he could remember how to close it again. Then he stepped up behind her like he’d seen done on jewelry commercials, and laid the dogseye pendent against her chest. She opened her eyes as soon as it touched her, but she didn’t make any noise. Russ fumbled with the clasp against her neck, looking at her expression in the mirror, trying to tell if she liked it. She looked stricken.