Fireflies Glow Only in the Dark

by Ruth Morse

  “It’ll be better this way, Max. I have to get used to being alone, right? You both have already done way too much. More than I could ever ask for.”

  Max hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay, Jack. Take care.”

  Jack chuckled. “With a support group like this, nothing can stop me,” he said, pulling Max into a warm bearlike hug. It was my turn after. I nearly disappeared in his embrace. “Breathe,” I wheezed, laughing.

  Jack pulled away. “Thank you, kids,” he said, his face now serious and thoughtful. “Thank you for everything.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  A heavy mist took over the city. I could feel its cool breath on my skin. Terry stood a few feet away from us, his vague figure towering above the plain.

  The sky was starless. It looked like a black sheet covered the sky with an imprint of a half-moon at the center. I remembered the countless constellations over Lakewood. At night, in the rare moments of peace, Jax and I used to sneak out of the house and lie on the grass in the backyard. We’d peer at the sky with our arms behind our heads and our legs stretched out, feet touching slightly, just enough for the darkness to retreat and stop being so scary. We’d make up stories.

  Jax’s were always better than mine. He’d point his finger at the bright bluish star that shone right above us. “I heard about this star,” he’d say, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The space pirates captured it. Their spy came to the star’s president while he was asleep and… Bam!” Here, he’d raise his hand clenched in a fist, and smash it over his open palm. “And he’s dead. Just like that.”

  I didn’t like his story. “But what about the light?” I’d ask with hesitation. Jax would drop his arms and give a long sigh. “It’s the SOS signal,” he’d say after a sorrowful pause. “The president’s friends sent it before they surrendered.” Seeing my downcast eyes, he’d touch my hand to get my attention. “See this little star glowing? It had much better luck. There, people welcomed their king. He’d been traveling, you see. They put on fireworks so bright—just like Dad did on my birthday, remember?—that their light reached us.”

  Suddenly I stopped. My mask fell off and broke into a thousand pieces. Max turned around. He saw me falling to my knees, bursting into tears like a little girl who was lost and missed her parents. Max’s face changed. He ran up to me, and his hands grabbed my shoulders, helping me to get up. With every beat of my heart, these forgotten feelings came back to me, rolling over again and again in painful waves.

  I was suffocating. Chaotic memories flashed before my eyes: Jaxen, still and terrifically quiet; Max’s kisses burning my lips with desire; Lily’s eyes, so piercing and so bright, looking at me with hope and fear; My dad, hiding in a corner with a bottle of whiskey and a look of horror on his face. Tears purified my past, and I finally accepted it. The pain gave way to redemption. I couldn’t make it go away completely, but I could accept it as my companion, not an enemy that came to me every night and tortured me in my dreams. It would always be there, right inside my heart, but I wouldn’t have to fight it anymore. It’s impossible to beat your own reflection.

  Max lifted me up, pulling me closer to his side. My cheek pressed against his chest. I heard his heartbeat; it was insanely fast. I tried to step back and say something, but he only squeezed me tighter. He started to whisper, his breathing harsh and uneven, his right hand stroking my head gently, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

  His voice trembled. Like an adult soothing a child, he leaned over and looked into my eyes, repeating the same phrase, “I’m sorry, Lana, I’m so sorry…”

  I grabbed him with both my hands and shut his mouth with a kiss. He was startled at first, but it only took a moment before his lips covered every spot of my face. A moan escaped my chest when I felt his hot breath on my neck. He was with me again.

  I pulled away and mouthed to Max, “Wait here.” I ran up to Terry, grabbed a few blankets from the sofa, shut the door, and went outside again. Max was waiting for me right where I left him.

  We fell on the grass. Max closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of my hair deeply. I took his hand that lay on my shoulder, brought it to my lips, and kissed it, filling the kiss with the tenderness and love that was overflowing through me. I was waiting for him with impatience, leaning my whole body forward and pulling him toward me with my hands on his back. He slightly squeezed my neck and let out a stifled sigh, interrupting my breathing. I came closer to his face and without taking my eyes off him, mouthed, “Now?”

  My stomach ached with a painfully pleasant sensation. It felt like I was looking into the abyss, leaning forward with my whole body, ready to jump. Max kissed my neck. His hand started to move from my chest, but the fact that he was no longer holding me caused me even more pain. I clutched him with my legs and that time I didn’t let him go.

  ***

  “Kiss me.”

  “Where do you want me to kiss you?”

  Max pointed at his right cheek. The second my lips pulled away from his soft skin, he turned the other cheek toward me. I chuckled and started kissing every spot on his face, despite all his attempts to dodge me.

  “My face is all wet now!” he said through his laughter.

  “Imagine that we’re in a movie. This is how they always kiss,” I said, not letting go of his face.

  “That nice?”

  I snorted. “That wet and loud.”

  Max ran his hand through my hair, his fingers idly playing with my curls. “Have you ever wanted to be in a movie? Let’s say, a movie about yourself?”

  “Why?” The sun warmed my skin and the breeze gently caressed my body. I lowered my head onto his chest and closed my eyes.

  “Well, you’d have a chance to see everything from the outside. Yourself, your life, us. Right now, for example, you’re so beautiful and yet you don’t even know it. Under the sunlight, your hair has a light bronze color. It shines so brightly. I didn’t know that hair could shine like that.”

  I squeezed him tighter.

  “I can see you,” Max continued. “But you can’t see yourself. Not even in the mirror. It wouldn’t catch the sparkles in your laughing eyes or reveal the dimples that appear only when you’re shy. I wish I could show you… yourself, you know?”

  “I don’t really think I’d be thrilled with what I see.” I smiled, my gaze glued to his lips. Because of my kisses they had reddened a little and it looked like he was wearing lip balm.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like the real me. Whoever she is.”

  “Or you’re just scared of meeting her.”

  “Maybe. What does that change anyway?”

  “Everything.” Max pulled away and looked at my eyes. “Tell me, what’s the point in being beautiful if you don’t feel that way?”

  The moment I opened my mouth to reply, Max’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen; the next second I saw his back as he hid behind the door. I heard his nervous voice. “Yes… Yes, of course. No, we’re fine. Of course we should meet. Six it is then. Okay. Bye.”

  Max came back and fell on the grass next to me. The relief flooded over his face. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  “Thank God he sounded okay. I hope he’s not drinking again,” he said, and glanced at me, adding, “I just don’t want him to turn into my father.” The words flew out of his mouth faster this time.

  I reached for his hand and covered it with both of mine. “Max, that won’t happen. Jack is not your father.”

  Max remained silent. He thoughtfully nodded and turned his head away from me, his eyes staring at the field ahead of us. My heart shuddered within me but when he shifted his gaze back to me, his face was tense and thoughtful yet without a trace of the former aloofness. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

  “I was ten when my mother died,” he said quietly. “The day she came back from New Orleans. She’d brought me a present. The turntable.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. “She kne
w I loved vintage music. My father had to pick her up from the airport. But he didn’t do it. He was too busy watching snooker with his dumb friends. The weather that day was horrible. I remember I was scared that the town might disappear under the water, just like Atlantis, if the rain didn’t stop. Mom called my father six times. He didn’t pick up the phone. She took a taxi from the airport. The driver was drunk, they’d said. Nothing unusual for our shithole town.”

  “Max, I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  He shook his head and took a deep breath. “My mom died and my dad became a boozer. I was left alone. I saw him rotting in the house, each day, with a new bottle of vodka in his hands. I saw that kind of life, empty, pointless, without any hope. That’s when I changed.” His hand clasped mine tightly. “I know what it’s like to live without meaning. And Jack lost his meaning. I’ll do everything to help him but, c’mon—am I really able to help?”

  “But you helped him already, Max,” I said. “You’ve done everything you could and Jack knows it.”

  His lips stretched into a soft, sad smile. “In the end, it doesn’t matter what you do. All that matters is what effect it has.”

  Saying that, Max got up on his feet and gave me a hand. My fingers touched his, but then I stopped, leaving my outstretched hand in the air.

  “Max, listen…”

  The idea, so simple and so important, came to my mind, striking me with its obviousness. I was thrilled. For the first few seconds it seemed to be delightful, but right afterward I was seized by doubt. Maybe it wouldn’t help, but who knows, perhaps we should give it a chance?

  “What if more than being helped, Jack needs to give help? You said actions don’t matter but their effect does. Maybe that’s also true for Jack?”

  Max tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “Of course his pain won’t vanish, but at least it could give him something you and I can’t… Meaning.”

  “Hold on a second.” Max narrowed his eyes, studying my face. He bit his lip anxiously. “You mean he could help other people who are going through the same thing? Volunteering or something?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hmm. Why not? He could try. Maybe he’ll even like it. We just need to find the right words…”

  “It’s better than nothing,” I added cautiously.

  Max clapped his hands. “It’s much better than nothing, Lana! You’re wonderful!”

  I gave him a pleased smile but it faded with my next train of thought. Is Jack allowed to be happy? When he couldn’t change anything, he found his next enemy: guilt, which he couldn’t run away from, not even hide from it in alcohol’s delusions. That feeling was as horrible as the pain of loss itself. Thoughts that relentlessly corrode the soul, thoughts of how everything could’ve been fixed, treated in a better way if only you did more. Or if you did something differently.

  After all, it’s much easier to put all the blame on yourself than to go insane from the abstract injustice of the world. With every bad thing that happens, someone must be blamed, otherwise, what was the point?

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Jack wanted to meet us the day after tomorrow, so we had the whole day at our disposal.

  We wandered around the city from the early morning to late that night. San Francisco was a different, unknown world. I was standing on its sidelines, peering at the trolley cars and the colorful, neat houses with my eyes open wide. The bustling city life enchanted me. The people on the streets were not like the people of Lakewood where everybody knew each other and had almost the same lifestyle. It was what you would expect from living in a small town, a sense of self-importance and the constant involvement in the lives of each neighbor.

  Here in San Francisco, it was different. The city was too big for everybody to know each other and therefore people could be individuals. Guys with joints hanging out of their mouths lay on the front steps of their houses, listening to music that wafted from the open windows of their rooms. Girls with shopping bags on their arms wore huge sunglasses that covered the wealthy parts of their faces. Business women in tight skirts and high heels hurried along the streets, annoyed, looking for taxis. They all were strangers to each other and they all were unique to me. They lived their lives not even knowing that they were given the most valuable gift: they had the power of being themselves, of living in their original skin.

  I felt a strength growing inside me. I didn’t want to stay on the sidelines any longer. I wanted to enter the main stage. I wanted to live and feel the life around me, to be strong and independent, to be immersed in that stream of new people, new ideas, new opportunities, new feelings. I wanted this enchanting new. The air overwhelmed me and life itself pushed me as if saying, “What are you waiting for? C’mon, live, create, enjoy! The whole world is yours!”

  I glanced at Max. He was watching the streets with a smile that gave away his excitement. I knew we were thinking of the same things.

  ***

  “Are you tired?”

  “A bit. You?”

  Max shook his head.

  It was already dark. We made a long loop, coming back to Terry. Max held me by the hand the whole time, only once releasing me to give me a hug and whisper, “You’re so pretty tonight. I love you.”

  We were about a mile away from home when Max suddenly stopped. Far away from the streetlights, it was so dark I nearly knocked him down, stopping a few inches away from him.

  “I think we’re near the beach,” Max said, looking somewhere behind the trees on our right.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Follow me.”

  I took him by the jacket sleeve, and he led me forward.

  Max brought us to a small hill, where there was a path, barely visible in the grass, made by someone a long time ago. Before I could see the ocean, the air became filled with its unique smell of freshness and freedom. I took a deep breath. No more thoughts remained in my mind. The boundless wisdom of the ocean dissolved my fatigue. Instead, its breath brought me tranquil yet gleeful peace.

  We climbed to the top of the hill where I could see the beach. Ocean waves were trying to take away more and more space from it to present their victory as a gift to the ocean, just like some ancient Greek heroes that committed glorious deeds for their kings.

  I pointed down the beach. “Are we allowed to swim at night?” I asked.

  “Who would stop you?”

  “Well, we’re still within the city limits, aren’t we?”

  Max shrugged. “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to swim in this water,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s freezing cold.”

  “I’ll move fast,” I parried, laughing.

  With a cry full of childish excitement, I ran off the slope, barely managing to land my steps. My shoes sank down into the cold sand. I heard Max’s laugh behind me. When I reached the ocean, he was still going down the hill, in no visible hurry.

  “C’mon!”

  I ran up to him again and, taking his hands, began to twirl.

  “Lana, you’re too fast!”

  Max brought me closer to his side for a kiss, but I slipped under his arm. I approached him, teasing my closeness, and once again slipped away, not stopping to laugh. Finally, Max anticipated my moves and caught me. Encased in his arms, I gave up any attempt to escape. Instead, I reached for his face, aiming at his lips, but somehow met his nose with my mouth. After my awkward kiss, Max found my lips and subdued my restless body with his long, gentle kiss. I closed my eyes. The waves roared loudly a few dozen feet away from us.

  Night by the ocean was much colder than night in the city. Rising wind seeped through my clothes easily. My body retained memories of the unbearable heat and now accepted the ocean’s freshness with pleasure. I took off my sneakers. Max approached the water and a small wave licked his feet. He winced. “Didn’t know it was that cold,” he said.

  “I want to swim,” I proclaimed.

  Max shook his head. “Not a
great idea.”

  “Are you afraid of the cold?”

  “There’s something more dangerous than just the cold.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The ocean isn’t calm. Night swimming is unsafe, especially when the water is full of undercurrents.”

  I couldn’t stifle my moan. “Max! Since when are you so reasonable?”

  “I always was,” he said with a shrug.

  “Well, I’ve always loved adventures! Even if I never had any,” I said.

  “Oh c’mon. Your eyes gave that away the first time I saw you.”

  “Catch up with me then!”

  I rushed forward. Max tried to stop me, but I dodged his hands and entered the water. As soon as I got there, thousands of needles pierced my feet. The ocean wasn’t just cold, it was freaking icy. I inched forward cautiously. Max’s warning about the undercurrents reached me. Suddenly I heard a loud slap behind me and right after that angry swearing. Max was shaking his head, spitting out salty water.

  “Are you okay?” I said, trying to cry over the waves.

  With two large steps, Max caught up with me. He cleared his throat for the last time and grumbled, “You’re insane, Lana Hunter. I hurried to you so much that I slipped and fell.”

  I burst out laughing. At the sight of Max’s humiliated face, my laughter only intensified.

  Max glanced at me. It looked like he couldn’t decide what he resented more: that I dragged him into the cold water or that I was laughing. Finally, he growled and lunged at me, attacking me with splashes.

  “You wanted to swim, let’s swim!”

  I yelped and tried to dodge him, but his hands were relentless. He clutched my shoulders, his right hand holding me tight and his left dousing me with icy water. Max released me as suddenly as he jumped on me. I was too busy shaking off my tangled hair from my face to notice how his eyes narrowed and a roguish smile curled his lips.

  He turned away and bent over the waves. In less than a second new fountains of water, only much bigger this time, doused my shoulders. I was completely unprepared. So that was his plan: he let me go just to free both his hands! I wiggled my body, helplessly trying to escape that insane water barrage.