My Lullaby of You

by Alia Rose

  “Well, it’s sort of like swimming. It’s one of the things I’ve always been good at. My dad is an architect, so we built things a lot when I was little out of Legos and clay. I love building and problem-solving.”

  “How’s it like swimming?”

  “Swimming and designing are the two most important parts of me. It’s like breathing,” she said, a small smile forming.

  “I know how that is.” Our eyes met, and I noticed hers were hazel. She looked away and just then our food came. I stopped asking her questions but continued watching her. Her confidence annoyed me a little. She was so sure about everything. I wanted to ask her something that she couldn’t answer. I wanted to stump her. I just couldn’t think of the right question to ask.

  “All out of questions?” she asked.

  I nodded. “For now.”

  She smiled. “I won.”

  I shook my head. “You’re competitive.”

  “So are you,” she said, giving me a look.

  I laughed. “You have no idea.”

  Competitive wasn’t even close to describing me. Winning meant everything to me. Back when I was on the swim team, even getting first place six times in a row wasn’t enough.

  Amy seemed that way too, or maybe she was just stubborn. I would let her win just this once. We ate in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. I could tell she was wondering if I had any more questions. I didn’t, but I knew she did.

  “So what do you do now?” she asked, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

  “Who said it was your turn again?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question.”

  I leaned in closer to the table and clasped my hands together. “Honestly, nothing. First, I haven’t graduated from college yet; I’m going to be a senior.” I paused. “The rest is complicated.”

  She cocked her head to the side.

  I mimicked her. “What?”

  She smiled. “Nothing.”

  I squinted my eyes, trying to figure her out. It didn’t take me long to realize my complicated excuse wasn’t going to hold out.

  “Where do you go?”

  “University of Maryland, School of Music.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “And I’m the one who’s smart? I want to hear your songs.”

  I shook my head, self-conscious all of a sudden, realizing she was starting to know more about me than anyone had in years. “No, you don’t. It’s more of a side thing. My major is more jazz piano and guitar. Songwriting and stuff is something that probably will never turn into anything real.”

  She looked at me curiously. “But you want it to.”

  I knew she thought she was figuring me out, and I hated thinking she actually was.

  “Oh, come on. If it needs improvement, I’ll give you an honest opinion!”

  I shook my head again and smiled. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “You would be brutally honest.”

  She shrugged. “So you like swimming too?”

  I was glad for the change of subject. “I’m part fish.”

  She laughed. “That,” she said, pointing her finger at me, “is my line.”

  I smiled. I realized then that she still didn’t know my name, nor had she asked. It was odd. Talking to her was easy, and I almost felt like I could be myself. I surprised myself by telling her things and I was pretty sure that it was partly because I knew she’d know if I was trying to hide something

  I had finished my salmon, and she worked on the second half of her sandwich. I thought about my dad again and it snapped me back to reality and to why I was really in town.

  I sighed.

  “Are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  She was very observant.

  “You just got this really serious look on your face all of a sudden.”

  I smiled. “I was just thinking.”

  She smiled back tentatively. We looked at each other for a moment before looking away once the check came. I reached for it and took out my wallet. She took out hers too and gave me a hard look. I held back a laugh. Clearly, she didn’t want this to be a date. She continued to glare at me until I finally gave in and reluctantly handed her the check. After we both paid, she stood up.

  “Well, I better go.” She pulled her bag over her head and across her shoulder.

  I got up too. “Take care, Amy.”

  “You too,” she said slowly. She started walking away from the table when I called out to her.

  “It’s Seth,” I said, finally giving in.

  She stopped and looked at me, and her mouth slowly curled into a smile. She nodded once and continued walking. If she had been curious at all, she hadn’t shown it. That surprised me; it was not the reaction I’d been hoping for. I wanted her to be curious about me like I was about her.

  I stared after her, not liking how she affected me. I never let girls get to me. I was always the one breaking their hearts and leaving them staring after me. But here I was in their position, wondering.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Amy

  It was only the third week of summer and nothing was going right.

  It had been five days since I tried apologizing to my mom for accusing her of guilt-tripping me, but she still wouldn’t talk to me. I wasn’t sure if she was still mad about my not telling her about the Art Institute, or if it was about my outburst at the store. Any time I said something, she ignored me. She would just sit at the kitchen table smoking one cigarette after another. The last time she had acted like this was when my dad left. Apparently I was getting the same treatment, since I was leaving too. Only, lucky for me, I got the treatment two months early. It didn’t change the fact that the pit in my stomach was steadily increasing. The more time passed, the less angry I became but the more helpless I felt. When my dad left, she went into a state of major depression, even though she’d said she wanted him gone. Now I felt like I was sending her into another spiral.

  “Ames, she’ll come around,” my dad assured me on the phone. I squinted up at the sun, feeling it burn my face. Today I wasn’t in the mood to lifeguard. I wanted to swim. I wanted to get lost in the water, let it control me and not care about anything else.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?” he suggested.

  “No,” I said quickly, “that would make it worse.”

  “She’ll get over it,” my dad said again. “She’s always been dramatic.”

  A flicker of annoyance ran through me. My dad didn’t know how their divorce had affected her. She might have been dramatic, but the sudden lack of sympathy he had for her bothered me. I brushed it off and hung up after assuring him that I’d keep him posted on the situation.

  John stayed out of it. For the first two nights he tried making conversation at the dinner table, but then he gave up when it didn’t work. After that, I just stopped coming home for dinner. I spent my evenings at Sarah’s house; her mom wasn’t around much, so we had the house to ourselves most of the time. Kelly would join when her house was too unbearable. We would sit there, trying to think of something to do. None of us realized that the summer before college would be so transitional and boring. We didn’t feel like hanging out with the old high school crowd, and we weren’t really old enough to sneak into places and find college boys to hang out with. That was more for Kelly and Sarah, but they bugged me about my anti-socialness so much that I went along with it.

  I sighed, looking at all the families enjoying the beach. I felt a pang in my chest, feeling left out and thinking about my mom again. I couldn’t remember when was the last time we went to the beach together or if we even had.

  “Hey,” a voice said, interrupting my thoughts. I looked down, startled to see Seth squinting up at me, and even more startled at his shirtless body.

  “Hey.”

  “Pretty day, huh?” he said looking around.

  “Yeah, not bad.” I shrugged.

  “Perfec
t for a swim.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “Don’t rub it in.”

  He laughed. “I wasn’t trying to.”

  “Sure.”

  He cleared his throat. “So, what time do you get off?”

  His question took me off guard. “Around four, depending on when Paul shows up.”

  Seth didn’t say anything right away, and I looked down, wondering if he was still there. I saw him look up, and he used his hand to shield his eyes.

  “Okay, cool,” he said, walking away before I could ask why.

  I stared after him, wondering what that was about. The whole stalker scenario crept back into my mind. He fit the part.

  I shook my head. Stop it.

  After my shift ended, I scanned the beach for Seth. I didn’t see him.

  “Who are we looking for?” I heard Paul say behind me.

  “No—” I started to say, but then saw Seth behind Paul walking toward us. “—body,” I finished.

  Paul looked over his shoulder and kept his eyes on Seth as he passed us. Seth locked eyes with me and smiled before running toward the water. I looked after him. Paul cleared his throat, and I turned back around and looked at his raised eyebrows.

  “What?” I asked accusingly.

  “Nothing,” Paul said, grinning.

  I rolled my eyes and shoved him.

  I looked back at the water and could barely see Seth, who was trying to swim to my rock. Hah, not a chance. A small smile crept on my face, and I broke into a run. I ran toward the waves and, once in the water, I pushed myself, swimming as if I were in a race. The rush was overwhelming, the cold water piercing every vein in my body. I came up for air and saw Seth a few yards away. He hadn’t reached the rock yet. I went back to swimming, my body adjusting and gradually feeling warmth. I looked back up and my fingertips felt the rock. Home sweet home.

  I shook my hair out of my face and saw Seth, looking surprised, staring at me.

  “Hi,” I said, out of breath.

  “Hey.” We stared at each other for a minute before a sly smile appeared on his face and a bad feeling sank in my stomach. He let go of the rock and started swimming toward me. I slowly crept away from him.

  “Wha—” I started to say but didn’t get to finish because Seth pounced on me, sending me underwater. I fumbled back up for air, choking and spitting.

  “I’m going to kill you!” I screamed over the waves. He laughed and disappeared underwater. I chased after him, grabbing his foot, which he kicked into my chest, sending me back gasping for air. I didn’t give up, though, and we chased each other back to the shore until we both lay exhausted, laughing and groaning from pain. I wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. Or ever.

  I attempted to sit up but fell back. I groaned and turned my head toward Seth. He lay there massaging his arm where I had kicked him. I noticed his toned shoulders as he sat up and caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on his right calf. It was too little for me to see exactly what it was, though. He caught me staring at him and shook his head.

  “I hate you,” he said, laughing.

  “You owe me a smoothie,” I told him, turning away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shift and then lean over me, blocking the sun.

  “What?” I groaned.

  “Let’s go.” He got up and continued looking down at me. I groaned again. He stayed where he was, and I could tell he was holding back a laugh. I took a deep breath and sat up.

  The world was moving, and my head felt heavy.

  “Did you kick me in the head?” I accused.

  Seth laughed.

  “This isn’t funny,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, believe me,” he said, “it is.” He held out his hand and I glared at him. Though I’d only known this guy a week, I sensed he was the most obnoxious one I would ever meet.

  I took his hand and he pulled me up. He grinned and I continued to glare at him. This, for some reason, was hilarious to him. Or maybe it was the way I was walking.

  “Shut up,” I moaned, walking ahead of him.

  I passed Paul and he laughed. What is up with these guys?

  “What happened to you?”

  “Paul,” I warned.

  “She kicked me in the shin last week, and I almost drowned,” said a voice behind me.

  “Ah,” Paul said, as if that made perfect sense.

  Seth giggled like a ten-year-old and jogged toward the boardwalk. I glared after him.

  Paul cleared his throat. “Karma’s a—”

  “Paul,” I warned again, this time raising my voice over his.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, quietly snickering. I dug through my bag and put on my cover-up dress. I winced in pain.

  When I finally made it to the boardwalk, Seth appeared in front of me with a huge smoothie and an ice pack. I attempted to laugh, but it came out more like a huff.

  “Thanks,” I said, sitting on a bench nearby. He sat next to me and took the ice pack out of my hand and put it on his own arm. After taking a couple of sips of my smoothie, I snatched the ice pack back, giving him another dirty look.

  “You have to admit,” he said, “that was fun.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said, trying to steal my ice pack again.

  “Nope.”

  He smiled. “Just a little?”

  “Maybe a very, very little,” I said, putting the ice pack on my head.

  “I’ll walk you home.” He took my smoothie out of my hand.

  I looked at him. “Okay.”

  As we walked, he began to tell me more about himself, and I was surprised that the wall I expected him to have wasn’t there. He told me about his music and how much it meant to him. I stayed silent, just listening as he explained that he wanted to focus on songwriting and singing, but that he didn’t have much faith in getting a record deal. I reminded him about letting me hear his songs.

  He hesitated. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You owe me,” I told him.

  We reached my house, and I stopped on the sidewalk.

  “I do not.” He laughed. “We’re even now.”

  I snorted. “This is not even.”

  He grinned. “Whatever you say.”

  I walked up the driveway and turned back when I reached the door. He stood staring at my house with an odd expression on his face. He saw me watching and waved before walking away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Seth

  I walked away from Amy’s house feeling a slight breeze and a lot of weight on my chest. Amy lived three streets behind the beach, which still allowed for a saltiness in the air but avoided the noise of the beach crowd. I quickly walked out of Amy’s neighborhood and strolled along the boardwalk, trying to figure this out. Amy’s house looked familiar—too familiar. After walking her to it and staring at the window that showed the full view of the kitchen and the fake fish on the front door, I realized why. I saw a face peering out the window.

  It was John’s house.

  My dad’s house.

  Now I just needed to figure out why it was his house

  I had never asked Amy about her family, and I realized now that I probably should have. If I had, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. I could only imagine how this would make things worse, seeing how he wouldn’t even talk to me when I’d tried the past five mornings at the construction site.

  I sighed and leaned on the dock railing. The sun was setting, and although it was a beautiful sight it gave me no comfort. I stared off into the waves, hoping for some kind of explanation. And then it hit me. Amy’s words echoed in my head: “I was born and raised here; I live with my mom and stepdad.”

  John was her stepdad. I ran my hands over my face, trying to process this without feeling all the emotions a normal son would feel. The statement echoed in my mind.

  He got married again. He got married again?!

  My mind flashed to my mom and her unhappiness. It flashed to the years without her and the growing distance between my fa
ther and me. I took a few shaky breaths before shoving the emotions back down and thinking about it factually.

  John hated me enough as it was; the last thing I needed was for him to think I was messing with his stepdaughter to get to him. Any slight chance of his listening to me was probably shot now.

  I laughed out of desperation at the odds of this happening. The one time I meet a girl here, she happens to be semi-related to me. I truly have the worst luck.

  I stepped away from the dock and grabbed myself a smoothie before heading in the direction of my hotel room.

  In any other case, I would walk away and disappear out of Amy’s life. It wouldn’t be hard to do—I barely knew her. I could be a jerk. I was good at it. Only problem was that I didn’t want to be one. Not to her. I wanted to hide that side of me from her.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I actually liked Amy, and I didn’t want this to end—whatever “this” actually was.

  I reached my room and plopped down on the bed. I closed my eyes and tried to think about something else, but I really had a dilemma. Tell her or don’t tell her? So my father was her stepfather and, in a way, it made her my stepsister, but seeing as I never knew her and we didn’t grow up together or anything, I wondered if you could even label it like that. It definitely didn’t feel that way, so was it absolutely necessary that I tell her this?

  I didn’t think so; I knew John wouldn’t tell her. God knows what John had even told Amy about his life before. For all I knew, her family probably didn’t even know about me. I could imagine him just saying that his previous marriage hadn’t worked out and here he was.

  I sat up on the bed and looked out the window. I felt the urge to stay numb getting the best of me. The moon was now up in the sky, shining through a stubborn cloud that refused to disappear. It was a full moon and just staring up at it gave me a flicker of inspiration and escape. It was the first night that I had any inspiration since I’d arrived in this town.

  I looked around the messy room, already completely lived in. I found what I was looking for leaning against the TV: I took my guitar out of its case and began strumming my fingers across the strings. I closed my eyes and the world melted away.