by Jolene Perry
My gaze is pointed out the window. Only thirty more minutes of drive time before Amber. “A few.” But hopefully he knows me well enough to drop it.
“How was the Waldorf?” Dad asks.
And that’s the sign that he’s going to let it go for now. I let myself relax into my seat for the final few minutes of our drive.
“Amazing,” I say. Because the way I feel just doesn’t have words right now, it’s all too mixed up.
- - -
Amber just took off for home, or boat, or whatever. I’ve been back for two weeks. Amber and I are together pretty much all the time. Our home school classes are similar, and we’re both trying to get as much done as we can. The hope is that the last bits of senior year will go a little more smoothly. Also, being around her means that she’s what I’m thinking about, and that beats the hell out of pretty much everything else that’s on my mind.
I’m trying to be careful, but kissing her makes me crazy. The other problem is one of the only places we have any privacy is in my room. Kissing a girl in my room makes me even more crazy.
I know I need to start Mom’s memoir, especially if we’re going to push it to print early, but I’ll get to it. Just not yet. I also know that my email is growing, not shrinking, but that, too, isn’t something my brain can wrap itself around. Instead I’m goofing on my computer, talking with David about nothing.
My insides still turn over with Mom, and with all that I need to do, all that I’m holding in, the hope is still there. The hope that the longer I push things away, the more likely it is that my body will dissolve it. Break it apart into pieces that won’t hurt so much. That all the pain will disappear the way I need it to.
“Antony.” Dad sits across from me at the table with his computer.
“Yeah?” I don’t glance up from my screen. Maybe he’ll take it as a sign that I’m too busy to talk. It’s funny how the tone even in a single word, lets me know that he’s about to start a topic that I don’t want to touch.
“Antony?”
I push out a sigh and flip my computer closed.
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “No need for attitude.”
“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but probably fail.
“It’s great that you’re spending time with Amber, and that she seems so happy—”
“But?” I interrupt.
“But it’s all you’re doing. I’m sure you have deadlines with the book, and you haven’t said a word about email, and—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
His shoulders fall, just slightly. “Antony…”
“I said I’ll take care of it,” I snap. I grab my computer, and head to my room. Time to shower off.
But mostly, time to get out of this room and away from Dad. Does this make me immature? Maybe. I don’t care.
- - -
Amber’s working on some project with Brit this morning, leaving me on the back of Dad’s boat by myself.
My phone rings in my pocket in what I hope is the signal that Amber’s ready to come over.
“Dude! You were in New York and you didn’t call, man!”
“David. You don’t live in New York anymore.” I shouldn’t feel twinges of disappointment that it’s David instead of Amber.
“I was there, Antony.” He’s pulling his guilt thing. “Visiting.”
How do I tell him I didn’t want to see anyone? “Sorry.”
“Trace hasn’t heard from you at all. Gem only saw you because she said you two ran into each other, and that’s the only reason I even knew you were there. Two weeks ago! We were online yesterday and you still didn’t say anything. What’s up?”
“Yeah, well…” I’m falling for the girl you told me not to waste my time on.
“So, what’s holding you?” David’s voice sounds more serious.
Amber’s walking up the dock. I start to smile at her until I realize she has tears streaming down her face. The sight of her red eyes twists my gut. “I gotta go, David.”
“Antony.”
“We’ll talk. Maybe I’ll come down for a few days, but right now I gotta go.”
“Okay. You know if you need to talk or something…”
“Oh no.” I try to laugh. “You’re not allowed to get all deep on me.”
It’s the perfect thing to say. David laughs, and I hang up as I jump off the back of Dad’s boat to take Amber in my arms.
Her body shakes against me, breaking me apart. But I’m practically an expert of pushing away things I don’t want to feel.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. I have no idea what happened, but I’ve never seen her like this. It also makes me realize that without meaning to, I’m relying on her a lot more than I should because I don’t want her to be sad. She keeps me afloat, helps me to have the strength to push through every day, to ignore the cracking, aching in my chest.
Her arms wrap around me more tightly, and the only thing I know how to do is to hold her. I need it as badly as she does.
- - -
I’m sitting on the back deck of Dad’s boat, Amber pressed tightly under my arm.
“I finally heard from my dad, and he doesn’t want…” but her voice stops.
Because I’m total crap in these situations I just squeeze her closer, stroking my hand up and down her arm.
“He said it’s not a good time for us to get to know one another.” Her hand comes up to wipe her face again.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” What else am I supposed to do? My heart aches for her right now, so much that words won’t come. Or at least that’s my excuse. Because if I really let myself feel this, I’m wondering what else might leak out.
“He’s in Boston. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to go to NYU. I thought maybe I’d be close enough that I’d see him once in a while.” Her breath’s still catching in these weird, short, bursts.
“I’d love to see you there, show you New York.” My fingers trace up and down her arm.
“What’s the point now?”
“Uh…me?” I tease.
It works. She attempts a laugh.
“And, he might change his mind, especially with you so close. Maybe.” I mean, I can’t really say for sure, only what kind of dad would just walk away?
The thought feels like a soft punch to the chest. Mine did. But we’ve always seemed okay, and I’m not sure why that is. Well, not okay, okay, but I always knew he was out there, and that I could call him. I just never did.
I guess, too that part of me is pissed that he didn’t stick around, and then another part of me, a part I keep even more hidden, wonders why I wasn’t enough to keep him around. There are people in New York that live on boats. I think.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“For what?” Now I’m cramming my shittiness away, so I can focus on her.
“For making me feel better.”
I have no idea what I did, but it still feels good. “Well, you’ve saved my sorry ass a few times, you know.”
Her head comes off my shoulder. “You are way more awesome than you think you are.”
I raise a brow. “Yeah…I don’t think that’s possible,” I tease and smack a kiss on her cheek.
“Okay, okay.” She laughs. “So, I need to talk about something else. What does Antony have planned next?”
“A lot of stuff I don’t want to think about. I need to start Mom’s biography, but…”
“You don’t even need to try to explain that one.”
“And there’s some stuff I think I need to clear up with my dad, and the issue of the mail. It’s all so heavy.” And I can’t believe I just said all that.
“It’ll get better.”
“Promise?” I tease, knowing she can promise no such thing.
“Promise.”
And now I know I just turned the tables here, and she made me feel better instead of the other way around. So, part of me feels better because of Amber, and part of me feels worse for the same reason.
>
- - -
Dad and Lynn are on Lynn’s boat, and Amber and I are completely taking advantage of the situation.
Her mouth is hot on mine and her warmth lying next to me is better than any other kind of warmth. The room is so black I can barely make out her shape, not that it matters. She’s too close for me to see her anyway.
My hands slide up the back of her shirt, bringing her even closer, if that’s possible. Her skin is exactly how I imagined it would be, soft, smooth. She feels perfect. It’s exactly what I’ve needed since even before our first kiss. I trace the line of her bra across her back to her sides.
My body’s going crazy with my need for her. And even though I know we won’t go all the way, more of Amber under my hands also feels good. My thumbs trace the bottom of the front of her bra.
“Wait.” She pulls away, breaking contact with not just our mouths, but our bodies.
The disappointment is crushing. Maybe I should have kept my hands on her back. “Amber, please. I promise I won’t push things too far.” But I lie still, waiting for her to say something.
Her hand rests firmly on my chest, forcing me to keep my distance. “I’m stopping us because we are too far.”
“Sorry, I just—”
“Because it’s a big deal.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” I’ve actually never been with someone who thought it was a big deal. I don’t think.
“Well, when you realize it’s a big deal, let me know.” Now there’s an edge of irritation to her voice, and she sits up, furthering the divide.
“How many people have you…”
“None. Remember?” She scoots away again. I feel more than the loss of warmth next to me.
“Right.” There’s no way to hide the shock in my voice. It’s like I turn into the old Antony when we’re close enough for me to lose my head a little.
“You’re the second guy I’ve given a real kiss to. Everything’s new.”
“But it feels good, right?”
“Most of the time, but you touching me makes me more scared. I can’t feel good if I’m tense, wondering where your hands are going to be next.” Her voice is clipped, and I know I’ve screwed up.
I have no idea what to say so we sit in silence. She’s pushing me away in more ways than one, and it feels like I’m grasping at straws being tossed in the air. The pieces of Amber are going to fall away, and there’s nothing I can do to keep her here. Especially because I still don’t know what to say.
Amber speaks first. “I know you’ve been with…I mean, had sex or whatever…”
“Three. I know you’re going to ask. Hélèna’s two years older, and thought it would be fun to be my first.”
Silence thickens the air.
“Where did you meet her?” Amber asks.
I’m frustrated that the darkness makes it impossible for me to read her features, just her voice.
“Mom had a good friend in Paris we used to stay with once in a while, Arnaud. Hélèna’s his niece or something,” I explain. That makes sense, right?
“Do you…I mean…do you two still talk?” Her voice still sounds okay, I think.
“Yeah. We talk, and we’ll get together when I’m in town, but we’re not a thing or anything.” Now that I’m saying it out loud, it kind of makes me feel bad. Will someone like Amber understand?
“You get together, together when she’s in town?”
“Well, I mean. Yeah. We’ve done it before. We like each other, and I just don’t… well, neither of us wants more than that from the other so…” It felt awesome and convenient when her family would end up in New York, or when I’d end up in Paris. Like we’d be a couple for a few days and then not talk for months. I think it worked for both of us. I’d never really thought about an actual relationship with anyone until now. Now that I’m apparently screwing it up from all ends. No pun intended.
“And what about the other two?” she asks.
“I don’t. I mean, I don’t think you actually want to know.” Because it’s really the same kind of relationship I have with Hélèna, even though they live in town.
She scoots further away. Far enough that I sit up, and my stomach turns to a ball of nerves.
I let out a sigh. “Gem and Savannah are both friends from New York.”
“When…I mean, when was the last time you were with them?”
“Not for a while.” Oh. Wait. “You called me at that party, remember?”
“I remember.” The words come out slow.
“Gem was there, and…”
“You slept with her that night?” she asks. Her voice is now tinged with anger. Things are going downhill and I don’t get it, because I’m trying to be honest.
“No, we didn’t have sex, she just…” but maybe that’s worse. I don’t know. I’m treading totally unfamiliar ground here. I’m terrified I’m losing Amber. She feels further away from me every time I open my mouth. “Let’s just say that yeah, we had sex. But I was out of it. I called you. I wanted you. Even way back then.”
“But you let her do, whatever, to you anyway?” she asks. This voice I can read. The stack against me is getting higher all the time, and she’s feeling it.
“Amber, I didn’t get it.” I reach out to touch her, but miss. This is so frustrating. “Okay, it’s too dark in here. I need to see you.” My fingers find the switch and when the light hits I squeeze my eyes tight for a minute before I can see. My chest drops. She’s crying.
She turns away as soon as our eyes meet.
“Amber.” I take her hand in mine and lean toward her. “This sucks. Please talk to me or something. I’m going crazy here.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I swear it wasn’t a big deal. None of it was.” She’s the big deal. Amber is. How can she not see this?
Now she looks at me through narrowed eyes, and part of me wishes she wouldn’t. “No! Don’t you get it? It was all a big deal, or it should have been! Instead you’re playing them off like nothing!”
“But they knew. I mean, I didn’t have to do anything, they just…all of them.” All of them sort of came onto me. I was just along for the ride. “Look. Most guys just get laid and call it good. I, you know, take my time, make sure they feel good and…” I’m one of the good guys, only even saying it out loud makes me feel a little less like one of the good guys.
“Oh. So, I should feel honored that someone like you would want me. Is that it?” She scoots so far she’s against the wall.
“Shit, Amber. Tell me how to fix this. I’m freaking out over here.” My heart’s banging around inside me.
“It’s just two ways of seeing the world, Antony. And your way and my way don’t really mesh. Not on this.” She slides off my bed and heads for the door.
My heart drops again. “Amber, wait. Please help me out here. The only person in my whole life I’ve ever been actually honest with is you and my mom. The only ones.” How can she move away knowing this?
She’s still not looking at me, but her face softens. I haven’t lost her. Not yet. “I just need some thinking time, okay?”
She walks for the door, and I follow. I’ve never been so jumpy my whole life. “Can I have a hug or something, please? Something to make me feel a little less desperate here?”
She stops at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the boat, and turns around. Her face is like stone—still and unreadable.
I need to use everything, everything I know. My fingers reach out and touch hers. I take her hand and give her a small squeeze. She squeezes me back. The air leaves my lungs in relief. We pull together and stand at the bottom of the stairs for a few moments before I dare to let her go.
“Please call me later on, okay?” I ask. I’m completely pathetic. Just like a girl. Please call me, don’t forget. Bats lashes. And as she steps out into the still night, I start to get it. She knows I think like this. She can see through me, and it scares her. Maybe I’m just an incurable asshole, which real
ly sucks, cause I’ve always thought of myself as one of the nice guys.
Seventeen
Dad’s ferociously typing when I stumble out of bed in the morning.
“So, you and Amber?” Dad asks. “You’re still being careful?” His fingers don’t even slow down.
“I don’t know. I keep fuc…messing it up.” I slump to sitting at the egg-table.
“Well knock it off.” He stops typing to smile and slugs my arm.
“Yeah. Trying.”
I sit and watch him type. I wonder if I get that absorbed. The stack of mail has grown, but Dad hasn’t mentioned anything else about it.
“What’s up with you and Lynn?”
“Hmm?” The rhythm of his typing falters as he tries to keep working.
“You heard me.” I’m kind of getting a kick out of his obvious desire to not talk about this.
He stops and looks over his laptop. His glasses come off and he rubs his nose a few times. “I love her, but anytime I even slightly mention sharing a boat…”
I smile at that. “Move in” means sharing a boat.
“She sort of closes off, and then I don’t see her for a while.”
“But our week in the San Juan’s.”
“Yep, and then we get home, and she’ll want some extra space again. I don’t get it.”
“Well, Amber…I don’t know. I know she likes me, but it’s like every time we talk I come off sounding like some spoiled jerk, and she’s afraid to be around me.”
“Maybe you’re pushing things too far, too fast.” Dad rests his arms on the table. “I mean, I know you’ve…” He chokes like he can’t find the words.
“Dad, you’re way late on the sex talk. Yes, I have. No, she has not. And I didn’t think I was pushing anything too far.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think, does it?”
“What?”
“It matters what she thinks.”
It’s so obvious, and it somehow still got lost. “Yeah.”
“Also, do you want the car to pick up Hélèna? She’s coming in tonight, right?”
“What?”
“I got an email that said she’d emailed you tons of times. She found me on my author site, so she dropped me a line saying she was coming to visit. I assumed you knew.” Dad sits back, and I can’t believe he’s holding his tongue on my lack of email checking finally biting me in the ass.