by Lisa Dale
“That day after the fireball,” she began. “The day you came to my dorm room and saw me with Chip…”
“So that was his name.”
“Yes. I want to tell you… nothing happened with him that day.”
He watched her carefully, leaning toward her with his elbows on the table, his face not registering any change of emotion. “I know what I saw.”
She shook her head. “Chip wasn’t interested in me, and I wasn’t interested in him either. I… I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just come out with it.”
“I meant for you to find us like that.”
He sat back hard against his chair and was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You mean it wasn’t real?”
She shook her head. “No. And I’m sorry.”
“But… why?”
“Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself with you, not after what happened. Because I thought if I could make you stop… being attracted to me, we might have a chance as friends.”
The waiter came to their table, and he’d started to say something when he seemed to notice how intensely Eli was concentrating. He excused himself right away.
Eli laughed a little under his breath. “You really thought that would make me stop wanting you?”
She nodded. “I thought if I could make your feelings go away, mine would go away too.”
“Did they?” His face was half in shadows, and his voice was low and dark. She knew, with a clarity that both frightened and emboldened her, that it was useless to keep up the pretense of friendship anymore. She was already in too deep to go back. There was nothing to do but look forward. She wanted to be with him again, whatever the risk or cost. Even if it lasted only a moment, she wanted everything, everything without restrictions, just once.
“I thought they did,” she said. “I was wrong.”
He stood and walked toward her side of the table. He held out his hand to help her stand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
He shook his head. “Just come on.”
She glanced back at their table as Eli led them into the main foyer and up a beautifully carpeted stairwell. He held her hand tight, as if worried she might try to pull away. When he took a silver key from his pocket she wasn’t surprised.
He didn’t brush his fingers against her face and he didn’t reach for her hand. The fresh, inviting smell of his cologne drew her in, enveloping her. Her heart pounded painfully hard in her chest.
“Stay with me,” he said.
“I will.”
He kissed her. Inside, the room was beautiful. Flames were dancing in the fireplace on the other side of the room, bathing the buttercream walls in red-amber light. The bed was covered in a patchwork quilt, a simple canopy suspended by four dark wood posts. A single red rose lay across one white pillow, and her heart danced with nerves like the flames that heated the air around them. She hadn’t remembered feeling this nervous the last time she’d made love with him. But now there was so much more at stake.
“Come here,” he said.
She gave herself entirely to the sensations of kissing him, the greedy press of his mouth. The thrill of attraction between them burned as hot as it ever had. When she was young, passion had engulfed her suddenly and completely, without warning. But this new attraction she felt was a slow, mysterious simmer—the dark smoke of a banked fire, the curl of a serpent constricting inch by inch.
Her clothes fell from her body silent as moonlight. He held her hand for balance while she stepped out of her dress, and she slid open the tiny buttons of his shirt—an image she’d envisioned a hundred times, so much more beautiful in real life. Laughing, she tugged his white undershirt out of his waistband and over his head, and she ran her hands over the smooth expanse of his chest and arms. He stayed like that for a minute, letting her fingers slide over his skin, his smile patient and amused. But when she met with the barrier of his belt, his easy grin contorted with a desire so fierce it looked like pain. He caught her hand and brought her with him to the bed.
For long minutes he watched her, barely touching, his breathing so even and steady she knew he was fighting to keep it that way. The firelight danced across his chest and painted shadows into the little valleys of muscle and bone. She felt no self-consciousness of her pregnant body under his gaze; instead, she was fascinated—held utterly rapt—by his fascination. He seemed to know the moment she could stand no more. And then his weight was carefully on her, heavy and warm, and she was so excruciatingly sensitive she imagined she could feel every stitch of the quilt scratching against her naked back. She was looking into his eyes when at last he raised himself up slightly on his knees, then pressed inside her. The whole world seemed suddenly magic, as if flowers bloomed in the sky and stars sprouted from the earth. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers sliding against his hot skin, and gave herself completely at last.
Later they lay with the covers twisted around their ankles, the moonlight streaming through the slats in the window. Cars passed on the street outside, their tires whispering with the occasional clacking of a woman’s high heels. The smooth sheets on her bare legs, the cool air on her hot skin, the way Eli traced lazy circles on her shoulder blade—there was no other word for this but bliss.
Never in her life had she felt so sensitized, so perfectly attuned to another person. For years she’d understood passion to be something bright and fleeting. A blaze that couldn’t last. But that had been only a superficial layer of passion, a fire that burned the surface but left the deeper levels chilled. What she’d felt tonight was fundamental, resonant—an inferno that had started on the inside and worked its way out. She’d never known anything like it before.
She kissed his chest and when she pressed her nose to him it was like she remembered—she would always associate the smell with a clear night sky.
“Just once more,” he said. “Say it just once more.”
She kissed his earlobe, whispered into it: Eli. His sigh was full of contentment. His hand settled on the curve of her breast.
A moment later he jumped out of bed, so quick she barely had time to sit up before he’d already crossed the bedroom and gone to the window. He flicked open the window lock and lifted the pane in one smooth motion. She hurried to his side, careful to stay out of the sightlines of the street below. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
Freezing mountain air rushed into the warm room. He put a hand out the window and wiggled his fingers, palm up, as if testing for rain. “I’m checking to see if the sky is falling.”
She stared. He was out of his mind.
“Nope.” He pulled his hand back in. “And no four horsemen either. I think it’s safe to say that life as we know it didn’t end because we made love.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Get away from the window, you nuthead.”
He shut it, then came straight toward her. His hands were firm on her rib cage and the flex of his arms pulled her in. After all the times she could remember standing before him fully clothed, the sudden shock of his warm naked skin made her hungry for him again.
He kissed her, laugher dying in the back of his throat. His hand curved around her ass, seeking the heat between her thighs. The pressure of his fingers made it impossible to open her eyes.
This moment was temporary insanity. She felt like Pandora, unable to resist opening the box that she knew would mean destruction. But what sweet destruction it was.
He was looking into her eyes when he came into her. She had one last thought before reason left completely. He was right. They would never be friends again.
November
Asters: Among the hardiest and last flowers of the year, the word aster comes from the Greek word for “star.” Hence, if the stars aren’t in your favor, you might be suffering a disaster (a “bad star”). Though many flowers close at night to stay protected from cold and dew, asters remain wide open to the stars t
hey were named for.
November 2
Karin had expected that the woman at the adoption agency would have raised an eyebrow at Lana’s decision to give custody of her child to her sister, but apparently these kinds of things were routine. It was amazing how much paperwork was necessary—not to mention how much money Karin and Gene were going to have to spend. She’d yet to tell her husband about what she’d begun because she knew she would need to tell him in just such a way that he wouldn’t shoot down the idea again the moment he heard it. She was sure this was the most logical and good purpose of her life. In one stroke, she could help her sister, her marriage, and herself.
Now on the ride home, Lana was quiet. A few snowflakes swept over the hood of the car and up the windshield as they drove. The fields outside the city had been winterized, low grasses stretching for acres and acres in gentle dips and swells. Lana clutched the top of her seat belt as if her life depended on it.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Karin asked, nervous.
The car filled with the sound of the radio.
“No. I slept with Eli.”
At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard right. “What? When?”
“The other night.”
“But… why?”
Lana looked out the window. “I wanted to. It was… beautiful. Amazing. It was like we walked right up to the edge and jumped over—and it was more than I… more than I could have imagined—like being awake and dreaming at the same time. Do you think I’m out of my mind?”
Karin kept her eyes focused on the car in front of her, not wanting to react too strongly. “But you’ve tried this before with him, haven’t you? In college? I thought you said it didn’t work.”
“It didn’t. And I worry that it won’t work this time either. We won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen, like we did before.”
Karin glanced at her sister in her peripheral vision. There was a worry in Lana’s voice that gave her the chills. She’d always hoped that Lana would find for herself the kind of love that she had with Gene. Years ago she’d pulled for the idea of Lana and Eli getting married and settling down. Eli wanted to have a family someday, and Karin hoped that she and her sister would raise their children side by side in Vermont. But then, as time passed and there seemed to be no romance between them, she’d given up. It felt odd to be faced with those questions once again. “But you’ve been friends with Eli forever.”
“Right. That’s why I’m worried. What if we overstepped?”
Karin said nothing for a long moment. She didn’t blame her sister for not wanting to give her heart away. Until Karin had met Gene, she’d barely dated at all. But then when he came along, she knew she’d found the one, and so she’d thrown herself body and soul into loving him.
But Lana was more reserved, more cautious. It always seemed that her sister gave everything she had to her short-lived relationships—all her care and kindness. Just like she’d done with all those endless boarders at Calvert’s house. And yet, she’d never given her heart. They’d been living in Vermont for years, but part of Lana still lived in that boardinghouse of ages ago.
“So what are you going to do? Are you going to run away? Tell him to leave you alone?”
“I don’t know. What will I do if I lose him, Karin?”
Karin reached over and patted her sister’s knee. “Just don’t do anything stupid and you’ll be fine. You and Eli have been through a lot together. I think you should just relax and see how it plays out.”
“And just wait for him to dump me? Or disappear?”
Karin went on. “You’ll have to communicate with him. Tell him everything. Even if you don’t want to. He deserves that.”
Lana nodded. The landscape rolled by, the trees turned a soft gray-brown on the distant hills. Karin could feel her sister’s nervousness, a palpable force in the minivan. She cracked her window an inch.
“And how is your communication going? Are you and Gene going to keep trying for your own?” Lana asked, her tone sounding so casual that Karin knew it was anything but.
“I think we’re taking a breather.”
“Have you told him that I said yes?”
“I tried to. A couple times now. But every time I say the word adoption, he cuts me off or changes the subject.”
Lana appeared unfazed. “Let me know when you tell him. I can be there, if you want.”
“Thank you.” Karin put on her blinker and turned into the Barn. She wasn’t entirely sure it would be a good idea to have Lana beside her when she broke the news. She didn’t want Gene to feel uncomfortable or attacked. But who could say what was what anymore? If Lana and Eli were sleeping together, who knew what was possible?
She put the minivan in park and took off her seat belt to climb out, but Lana stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m glad you and Gene are going to adopt the baby. It deserves good parents. And there’s no one better than you.”
Karin didn’t smile. She heard the tinge of sadness in her sister’s voice and she wondered what it meant. “I hope you don’t mind if I say this. I know you feel sort of out of control all the time. Trying to figure out what and who you want in life. But sometimes I think that you still look at the future through the past, and it warps things. If you could see it for what it really is, you’d be surprised.”
“Maybe.”
“What I’m saying is, I think you should talk to Calvert.”
“Just because you made peace with him doesn’t mean I have to.”
“If you’re nervous about the future, you have to figure out why by looking at the past,” Karin said. The day that Calvert had arrived in town, Karin had believed she’d needed to fight to keep her sister from reconciling with him. Lana was always the nice one. Lana was more forgiving toward Calvert than Karin had been. But now Karin wondered if all Lana’s projected goodwill toward their father hadn’t been just for show. Amazingly, somewhere along the line they’d traded places. Karin was the one making peace while Lana was still all bottled up, pretending she didn’t care. “Eli loves you. And you love him. There’s no reason in the world it shouldn’t work.”
“But history repeats itself. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Last time you ruined it on purpose. It’s different now.”
Lana looked down. “I hope so.”
Karin pushed her car door open all the way. “Just stop worrying so much and enjoy it. It’s the beginning of something. Not the end.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Lana said. And yet as they climbed out of the minivan, Karin wasn’t sure she’d convinced her.
That night Lana lay in Eli’s arms, pressed to the smooth warmth of his skin. His hand played absently in her tousled hair. Not a moment after they’d arrived at his house, all of the pessimism she’d felt earlier in the day was shed like the clothes he’d slid from her body. She was unable to get enough of him. She felt an uneasy sense of immediacy, that she needed to make the most out of every moment and every second, that she needed to memorize the sound of his breathing and the smell of his skin. She clung to every word he said, as if they might slip away from her if she didn’t listen carefully enough.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Something you’ve never told me before.”
She laughed and arranged herself to lay on her side, her head propped on one hand. “Something I’ve never told you before… hmm. There isn’t really a lot… I can’t think of anything!”
He scooted away so he could see her better, rolling onto his side to face her. A light was on in the hallway outside the door, and it cast soft yellow shadows over their faces and flesh. “Tell me when you lost your virginity.”
“Haven’t we already talked about that? I mean, I know when you lost yours.”
“That’s old news. The exchange student, with the corsage, in the science lab. How come I don’t already know about you?”
“I don’t know. I think it was pretty normal.”
“Tell me.”
/> “But why do you want to know?”
“I’ve always wondered. But I didn’t feel like I could ask until now.”
Lana fluffed up her pillow under her head. “Well, his name was John. I was sixteen and he was… I don’t know. Early twenties? He came to the boardinghouse every few months. I don’t remember much about him—nothing concrete. It’s more like a feeling of remembering what he was like. He was a musician. A rebel. Aloof. I used to lay white daisy petals along the headboard of my bed for each day I didn’t see him, and I’d watch them curl up one at a time. Silly, right?”
“Everything’s silly when you’re sixteen. So what happened?”
“The usual,” she said, laughing. “He used to show up every few months and I just thought he was the most wonderful thing that ever happened on the whole earth. He had these sunglasses like John Lennon, and I thought I was in love. I had this vision of him showing up one day and asking me to leave with him. I had this idea we’d be vagabonds living in his car and getting by on his music. It made sense to sleep with him.”
“Karin let you get away with it?”
“I told her I was going to watch a movie at a friend’s house. But afterward, from the way she looked at me, I think she knew.”
Eli stroked her hair in long, smooth sweeps, but said nothing.
“Anyway,” she said. “We obviously didn’t run away together. One day, he said, ‘See you next time.’ And then I never saw him again.”
“You must have been crushed.”
“Brutally. But now I wonder what I saw in him in the first place.”
“An exit sign.”
“Something like that.”
He drew her closer, his hand at the small of her back, pressing their bodies as close as was possible. Lana sighed, content. They lay in silence for a long time.
“I’m not going to leave,” Eli said, his voice thick with sleepiness. “At least, I won’t leave without coming back.”
She thought of the way she’d been tethered to the boardinghouse all those years, watching the men come and go. She pressed her forehead flat against his chest. “I know.”
“I don’t like traveling all the time,” he went on. “I plan to spend more time here, now.”