The Tension of Opposites
Page 7
“I, um…” I looked at Max.
“She wants to come over for dinner,” Max said. “To see your sister.”
Coop looked from Max to me and shook his head. “Elle’s not ready yet,” he said.
Max plucked a few jelly beans from an open bag on the tabletop. “But they’re best friends.” He shook the little candies in his hand, the hard pieces clicking against one another.
“I don’t know, Tessa.” Coop sat forward. “She’s different.”
“Nothing will erase all the years Tess and Elle spent together. That kind of friendship is healing, man.” Max sat on the tabletop and looked at Coop. His face and eyes were soft, understanding. In that moment, I wanted to kiss him more than ever. “There’s got to be some way you can—”
Just then, the bell rang, and the crowd stood simultaneously. Coop, though, stayed planted in his seat.
I moved around the table until I was just a few inches from him. The noise level had almost doubled, and I wanted him to hear me. “I really need to see her.”
“Tessa,” Coop said, “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll work on it.”
I mouthed the words thank you before turning to Max. We were pushed up against each other in the crowd, and I had to stop myself from thinking about how much I liked being so close to him, and how the sweet grape jelly-bean scent that rode Max’s delicious breath was making me want to taste his tongue.
Friday,
October 30
8
You Don’t Mean That
“So she just called and said she couldn’t make it?” Max was sitting next to me, looking out the side window of the Jeep. We were driving through the country a few miles from town, and the thick green grass of the farmyard we had just passed gave way to a field choked with tall cornstalks.
“Pretty much,” I said, staring at the two-lane road ahead. I was lying by omission, but that couldn’t be avoided. Darcy had called my cell just before I’d driven to Max’s house to pick him up, and when she said she couldn’t meet us, it all clicked into place. She’d masterfully plotted the outing, planning from the start to ditch us at the last second, when she knew for sure I’d be stuck. As I thought about how she’d leaned against her desk with a smirk on her face in life photography the day before, telling me that we had to take Max because the field would be too hard for him to find on his own, I was positive.
“You’re such a schemer,” I’d said to her. “This time, I’m not sure I’ll forgive you.”
“Oh, shut up, Tessa.” Darcy’s laughter sprang through the phone. “Have some fun for a change.”
“You know my parents would freak themselves into a panic, me being alone with a mysterious guy from out of town.”
“First of all, he’s not mysterious, he’s Max. And he lives here now, in warm and cheerful Centerville.” Darcy sighed. “Stop using your parents as an excuse. When you get home, you can simply forget to tell them the whole alone part.”
About a half hour later, with Max at my side, I slowed for a tight curve and immediately pulled to the side of the road, parking next to a wooden fence that was slathered with some viny vegetation.
“This is it?” Max asked, turning to me.
I nodded.
“Darcy was right. I would have passed this a hundred times.”
I turned and reached into the backseat for my camera. “Wait’ll you see what’s around the bend.” I paused and looked at my backpack, wondering what I was waiting for, wondering if I had the guts to share what was inside. No, I decided. No, no, no. Instead of grabbing for the blue bag, unzipping it, and spilling its contents, I picked up my camera, opened my car door, and stepped out, the cool air chilling me instantly.
I led the way through a shady patch of tall grass. We rounded the corner of the fence and walked under the golden-red canopy of a large maple tree before finally stepping into a wide field washed in sunlight. I stopped, and Max walked into my back.
“This is …”
“Unbelievable,” I said. “I know.”
Before us, a sea of sunflowers swayed lazily in the breeze, their dark faces surrounded by luminous orange-yellow petals, just staring like they’d been waiting for us since their seeds had been pressed into the ground.
“It looks like they’re dancing,” I said.
Max stepped to my side and held his camera up to his face. The shutter snapped.
“How many do you think there are?” he asked.
“Hundreds,” I said, “and hundreds. We’re lucky Darcy drove by earlier in the week. This field will be wilted and falling soon.”
“You ready?” he asked, looking at me.
“Always,” I said, holding my camera up in the air. “Why don’t we split up? Make sure we don’t get in each other’s shots?”
Max shrugged. “Okay.”
For the next half hour, I walked through the rows of sunflowers, their petals grazing my shoulders, kissing my cheeks. I took close-ups of the dark seeds swirling from their centers in a dizzying spiral, the thin white hairs sprouting from their thick stalks, the velvety green leaves spreading out like reaching arms. Some of my shots I aimed from the ground up, making a single flower look as powerful as one of the Three Sisters. Others I took from the side, so I could capture an entire row, standing proud like decorated soldiers.
I tried to keep an eye on Max without his noticing, but he caught me staring a few times. Once, he aimed his camera my way and snapped a shot or two. Laughing, I ducked down quickly and had to dig my fingers into the damp earth to keep from falling.
When I finished my third roll of film, I found Max close to the front of the field. He was stooping over a shorter flower, aiming his camera into its center.
“They’re crazy,” he said when he heard my footsteps.
“I know. I love the way the light moves through them.” I looked over the field, watching soft rays of the waning sun flicker through the flowers’ waving bodies.
“I mean these bees,” Max said.
I stepped closer and peered into the center of the flower Max was standing beside, finding that he was focused on three bees. “Yeah. They’re all over the place,” I said as one took flight and buzzed around my head. I swatted the air until it was gone. “Did you get some good shots of the sunflowers?” I asked.
“I did. But once I saw all the bees, I decided they should be my focus instead.”
I heard the shutter of Max’s camera snap a few more times. “Coop found me after school today,” I said. “He talked his mother into inviting me for dinner.”
“Really?” Max lowered his camera from his face and turned to look me in the eyes. “That’s great.”
Uncomfortable with the weight of his stare, I kicked the thick grass clawing at my feet. “I’m going tomorrow night. It’s because of you, you know.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
I shook my head. Then I spoke without thinking, all my worries tumbling from my mouth without any filter. “I’m not sure what to say. Or what not to say. She went through some awful stuff, Max. I mean, how do you talk to your best friend after she’s spent two years with some greasy pedophile?”
Max let his camera fall to his chest. “How did you talk to her before?”
“I dunno.” I paused, considering this for the first time. “I just talked. I didn’t think about it.”
“There’s your answer.”
I turned toward the Jeep and started walking. “It’s not that easy,” I said.
“Maybe it is.” Max spoke from a few steps behind me. “Tell me about her.”
“Elle?”
“No. I want to hear about Noelle. The girl she was before she was kidnapped.”
I looked over my shoulder and slowed until he was walking beside me. For several seconds, the only sound was the grass whisking against our jeans.
“It’s been a really long time since I’ve thought about Noelle,” I said. “Just Noelle.”
Max nodded. Like he already knew.
Max stopped when we were under the maple. I looked up, noticing that the leaves above us were a flickering fire.
“She was crazy about her clothes. This one time, I borrowed a sweater and spilled barbecue sauce on it. She flipped out.” I laughed, remembering how red her face had been as she’d told me she’d never loan me anything for the rest of her life. “Honestly, she could be a real bitch.”
Max smiled. “What else?”
I took a few steps back and leaned against the side of the Jeep. “She was more daring than me. Noelle used to tease me, saying that it was her job to break me out of my goody-goody mold. She made me try my first sip of alcohol and my first cigarette.”
Max chuckled. “I had a friend like that back in Montana.”
“Noelle was always sneaking out of her house. Her bedroom window opens onto the roof of her garage. Some nights she’d just sit there and look at the stars; others she’d go tromping through the neighborhood. That’s not how she …” I took a deep breath and ran my thumb along the cool silver button that activated the camera’s shutter. “When she went missing, it was the middle of the day.”
I looked at Max. His head was down, his hands clasping the body of his camera as his fingers tapped the lens cap. The sun behind him was setting, and the golden glow lapped at him like a warm, buttery liquid.
For weeks, I’d been debating, unsure if or when I would give in. I’d wondered about it often, and in this silent moment, after he’d asked me to tell him about Noelle, I knew it was time.
“You wanna see them?” I asked.
Max looked up, his eyes crinkling.
“My pictures?” I turned and walked to the driver’s side of the Jeep. “It’s now or never.”
Max was in his seat, closing his door before I could pull my backpack from behind him. My hands felt numb as I lifted the envelope containing my pictures. I shoved it at him without looking, and then, after securing the camera, turned the key in the ignition. The Jeep rumbled to life, and soft music hummed through the speakers.
Max’s hand was over mine before I could put the Jeep in drive.
“Wait,” he said.
“If I don’t drive,” I said, turning off the radio, “I might throw up.”
Max laughed. “I’ll take my chances.”
I took a deep breath and let my hands fall into my lap, ignoring every instinct that told me to drive so I could avoid eye contact.
He dug his hands into one of the most private places in my world and slid out all of my favorite pictures. A few tumbled on his lap, and he gathered them, tapping the sides of the bundle until they were neatly stacked one on top of another.
“I get it,” Max said. “You know that, right?” He looked at me, flicking a curl from his eye. The sky outside had melted into a soft orange-pink, reminding me of cotton candy.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure anyone gets it.”
“It’s kind of like letting someone inside your head to listen to your thoughts.” Max hadn’t looked at the pictures yet. He was staring into my eyes, his velvety-looking lips almost close enough to kiss.
“Just look at them already,” I said.
Max bowed his head and began to shuffle slowly through my pictures. At first, I stared out the windshield, focusing on the yellow lines in the middle of the road, the way the leaves of one tree were this crazy deep orange, how the squirrel scurrying from one high branch to another looked like he might take flight. Then I studied the long shadows cast by the setting sun.
“You took this?” he asked. “Really?”
My nervous energy flashed into irritation. “I took all of them,” I said.
“Easy,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He held up a photograph. “Where’s this?”
One quick glance and I knew.
“SunWatch Indian Village. They have this summer solstice celebration with a drum circle and bonfire.”
On the paper between us was a Native American. He was suspended in the air, his arms spread like the wings of a bird, the beaded fringes of his long shirt tossing out all around him. His mouth was open, and his eyes were closed. His moccasined feet, several inches off the ground, had flung particles of dust into the air. Everything was so vivid—the colors of his large headdress, the paint on his face, the beadwork that adorned every piece of his clothing.
“It was sunset,” I said. “They were dancing to honor the passing of spring, and to welcome the coming of summer.”
“I can practically hear him chanting,” Max said. “And the way you captured his movement, I expect him to just float off the page.”
I looked down so Max wouldn’t see my smile. A car sped past, rocking the Jeep a bit.
A few minutes later, Max laughed. “Finally,” he said, holding another picture in the air. “These are as awesome as I expected they would be.”
I knew before I looked. He’d seen my shots of the Three Sisters.
“You were wise to use both color and black-and-white film that day,” he said. “These are much better than mine.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “We had a deal. When do I get to see your pictures?” I slid sideways in my seat, leaning toward him a little.
Max looked down, flipped through a few more pictures, and smiled. “How about over dinner? Next weekend?”
I moved so suddenly, I hit the car door. “What?” It was almost completely dark on the backcountry road, and I was glad for the cover of shadow blanketing my face.
“Dinner,” he said. “It’s usually where a date starts.”
“A date.” I pointed. Like an idiot, I pointed at him and then at myself. “Like, you and me?”
“Am I that far off base?” Max put the stack of photos back into the manila envelope and shut the clasp.
“No. You’re not—”
“Good, because I was starting to wonder.” He put the envelope on his lap and patted it with one hand. “These are really good, by the way. I can see why you got into life photography a year early.”
I didn’t know what to say. Had he really just asked me out on a date? I wanted to jump out of the car. Rewind the last thirty minutes. I would take back my revelations about Elle. I would never show him my pictures. And I would not look at his lips.
When I let my mind flitter over the reality of what had just happened, I was overcome by that floaty, detached-from-my-body feeling. But I couldn’t actually go.
“So, do you do Thai?” Max asked.
“Max, no, I can’t—”
“There’s always Italian. You just—”
“It’s not the food. I can’t go out with you,” I said, looking down at my hands, which were now clasped around the bottom of the steering wheel, vibrating a bit under the hum of the engine.
“I don’t get it.” Max turned to face me. “Look at me,” he said.
I let go of the steering wheel. Turned just a little. “I want to,” I said. “I just can’t.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Max shook his head. “I like you, Tessa.”
“I like you, too, Max. There’s just too much going on right now. With Elle and everything, I can’t—”
“Oh. Now I get it.” Max nodded, his lips tightening into a thin line.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
“Afraid of what?” I asked. “You?”
“I dunno,” he said, the silhouette of his body leaning back against the seat. “I know this is going to come out all wrong, but I just don’t buy the whole I-need-to-be-there-for-Elle line.”
I wanted to open his door and shove him out. “Do you even know what it’s been like?” I asked.
“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been. But one thing has nothin
g to do with the other.”
I hated that he was actually calling me out. But what did I expect? My argument was pretty weak, considering the fact that Noelle … Elle and I weren’t exactly speaking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, putting the car in drive.
“Oh, I think I do,” Max said, a little chuckle in his voice.
“You’re annoying, you know that?” I asked as I pulled out onto the street.
“You always so nice when a guy asks you out?” His face glowed from the passing streetlights.
I elbowed him, wishing that he would lean over and kiss me or try to kiss me or do anything that would cause his lips to make contact with my skin. And. Hating. Myself. For. That. Thought. “Just leave me alone,” I said.
“You don’t mean that,” Max answered, with a tilt of his head.
We were silent for the rest of the ride. Max just stared out his window, watching the night grow into the deep blue-black that felt like it could swallow you whole. His fingers played with the metal tab on the manila envelope, and more than once, I wanted to tear my pictures from his grasp.
When I pulled into his driveway and he stepped out of the Jeep, the ceiling light stung my eyes, exposing me, making me feel naked.
He turned, looking back at me. “Just be yourself,” he said. “With Elle, I mean.”
I looked at him, but not in his eyes. He placed my pictures on the seat, grabbed his bag from the floorboard, and swung it over his shoulder.
“I hope it goes okay tomorrow.” He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Thanks,” I said.
He closed the door slowly, as if giving me one last chance to change my mind, to tell him I’d love to go on a date. Instead of speaking, I pressed my lips together and watched him walk up his cracking driveway, then reversed into the quiet street.
When I rounded the curve of the park and passed the crystal plume of the fountain, I decided to let go. I pulled over and put the Jeep in park, then, looking at that dark patch of concrete where Noelle had disappeared, I opened my mouth and screamed as loud as I could.
Saturday,