by Sarah Tomp
She waited for him in the bathroom while he followed her directions, returning with a roll of duct tape and scissors. After she applied antibiotic ointment, he held her leg across his lap. “Butterfly bandages can work as well as stitches. It’s a longer cut than usually recommended, but I think we can take care of it.”
Once he showed her what he had in mind, they worked together to fold and cut the tape into the rough butterfly shape. The buggy part—the middle—was folded over so as not to stick to her wound, and then he used the wings to pull the two sides of her skin together.
Slowly, methodically, crisscrossing each one over the other, they worked together, bit by smidge by part by piece, closing the two sections of skin back together. Somewhere midway along her thigh she realized she wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore. Instead she focused on the feel of Cotton’s capable fingers. It was very distracting that he smelled like fresh bread and that indescribable him-scent.
“Will I have a scar?”
“Probably.” He took the bit of tape she offered and put it into place. Only room for one more piece.
“You could be a doctor. You’re smart enough. And calm. You have a reassuring bathtub-side manner.” She tried out his name: “Doctor Talley.”
“No.” He tilted his head, eyeing her leg. He ran his finger along the edge of tape, as if measuring it by touch. “I wouldn’t want to give anyone bad news.”
Damn. She reached out and placed her hand firmly against his cheek.
He leaned into her touch, then pressed the last butterfly into place.
“I look like a mixed-up treasure map.” She eyed the row of bandages. “X marks the spot.”
“You’re going to need to leave them in place for about a week. Don’t get them wet.”
“But I can still cave. Right?”
Cotton was quiet. For long enough that she worried he was avoiding telling her bad news. Then he said, “Do you want to spend the night in the cave tomorrow? In order to have more time for mapping? My parents approved our plan.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” He paused, with a funny look on his face. “Flutie is coming too. Leo has been taking her caving. He assures me she will not be a liability.”
“Is it weird that your best friend and your sister like each other?”
“I don’t think I have clear parameters on ‘weird.’”
She laughed. “I think it’s nice. And an overnight cave slumber party sounds incredible.”
“Is your answer yes? You will come with us?”
“Yes, Cotton. My answer is definitely yes.”
He gently moved her leg off his lap and stood up to wash his hands. Looking at her through the mirror he asked, “How did you cut yourself?”
“I went to the quarry with Maggie. She didn’t want to go to the college fair.”
“I didn’t want to go either. You know I can’t go to college. I looked for you.”
“I wish you’d been with me.”
“You didn’t ask me to come.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I mean, I was thinking about you. But I didn’t think you’d want to be there. Or I didn’t think to invite you. It wasn’t really your group.”
“I don’t have a group.”
“Me neither. Even Maggie hates me.”
He didn’t argue or question. She stood up. Her leg still hurt, but it was easier to ignore now, especially if she leaned to the other side. The bathroom was a tight space, Cotton was close. She focused on his reflection.
“We could be a group,” she said to him in the mirror. “You and me. A small and exclusive group. There could be . . . kissing in our group.”
He tilted his head. “You liked that?”
“Yes, Cotton. I liked that.” She laughed. “Very much. Couldn’t you tell?”
“It’s not like I ever thought someone like you would like someone like me.”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She was missing something. She pressed her hands against her temples. Smoothed her hair away from her face. Lifted her chin. Maybe she could hide the way she felt shaky now. A bundle of jangled nerves. This was Cotton. They could figure this out together.
“What does that mean? ‘Someone like you’ or ‘someone like me’? Do you think someone like me wouldn’t like someone who’s kind?”
“I have trouble with flexibility. I worry about time and rules. And everything.”
“So, someone like me wouldn’t like someone who actually cares about things?”
“I’m geeky.”
“You mean smart. And I’m not.”
“You’re smart. But you’re also beautiful.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Yes. You’re kind of filthy and your hair is doing a strange twisty thing. And you still have blood on your shirt. But, you are beautiful. You’re strong and fit. And I’m . . .” He hunched over, his cheeks pink and flushed. “I’m not.”
“But you are. And you’re more. You’re . . .”
He’d never be able to see himself the way she saw him. He could never have her exact perspective. She reached out and took his hand. She needed to touch him even if he pulled away. But he didn’t.
“Humdiddle?” she asked.
He looked as surprised as she felt. Then his eyes crinkled into that Cotton-smile.
“You make me happy, Cotton. Even when I’m not.”
Words weren’t good enough.
She moved closer. Guided him to the toilet seat. She straddled him, flinching because her leg still hurt like hell. But then she nestled in. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he pulled her closer. She traced his eyebrows, his nose, his lips. She kissed his neck, his cheek, and finally, his mouth. He tasted like something sweet and rich, but mostly, best of all, him.
Thirty-Eight
Later, after Cotton had left, and her parents came home, Ria took the evidence of his surgery work outside to the garbage can.
The night air felt cool and damp. It smelled like a campfire. She looked up at the stars and was hit with a faint wave of vertigo, but too quickly her body adjusted to the new point of view. She was stuck firmly on the ground.
Damn, that dive in the quarry had given her an adrenaline rush. It had been wild and reckless. And fun, too. It made her miss the raw part of diving. The thrill of not knowing balanced with faith in her body.
A video clip had already been posted online and liked repeatedly. Maggie’s jump was there too, but separate. As if they hadn’t been together. In the video, Ria stood at the edge of the quarry, clearly in her bra and underwear. No doubt it was her. Then, suddenly, she was in motion. The lift had been as good as it felt. Her pike form was tight, her legs straight, toes pointed the whole ride down. It was a beautiful dive, made more stunning by the backdrop of the rocky walls. She felt a flicker of pride. Before she could wonder or doubt, she sent Benny the link.
She walked down the sidewalk to the neighbor’s driveway, and onto the street corner, evaluating the pain in her leg. It had ached and throbbed all through dinner, but her parents hadn’t noticed. They had no idea she was hurt. They never did. She was too good at hiding her bruises. Even when she’d wished they’d notice her skinned knees, battered shoulder blades, she’d worked to keep the pain out of view.
They didn’t even know she’d been to the quarry today. Or that she and Maggie had fought. They still didn’t know about caving or kissing Cotton. She could feel her secrets adding up, building to some kind of crash.
Sometimes it was better to fall apart in a million ways all at once, rather than one small way on its own. One missed homework and her teachers would be angry. Two or three, they moved on to concerned. Skip it every single day and everyone quit caring. They’d give up. Diving had been like that too. The smaller an offense, the greater Benny’s wrath.
If a dive’s mediocrity could be traced to one small slip, one minor glitch, one teeny tweak, the more likely he would rant and rage. The closer to perfect a dive went, the more
likely his assigned correction would feel like a punishment. If she had a strong approach, great lift in her hurdle, tight form, fast flip, but then botched the entry, he’d rage about that one last piece of the dive. She’d be in entry purgatory, standing on the side of the pool doing lineup after lineup, concentrating only on the moment of breaking the surface, the rip of the water, the act of sliding in, willing her body to act paper thin. But, if everything went wrong, he’d shake it off as if it didn’t happen. She’d simply have to do the whole dive again.
Back at her house, she paused and watched the neighbor’s smoke twirl up from their chimney, melting into the sky.
Then Benny was there, standing in the spot where her driveway met the street. She’d known he’d come.
“I saw your video.”
She stood straighter, shoulders back, chin lifted.
“The higher you go, the prettier you fall.” His voice sounded husky, thick with the night. He stepped closer, moving up the driveway. “There’s no one like you, Ria. Strong. Brave. Graceful. You’re the real deal.” He tilted his head and stared at her, into her. “I bet that dive felt incredible, didn’t it? Out in the wild, with a crowd watching. Even if they don’t understand what they’re seeing. They know it’s amazing. They know you are amazing.”
Exactly.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
She frowned. The dive had looked good. Great, even.
“I said, what the hell were you thinking?”
She’d thought she had to do it. That he’d never forgive her for being in a moment of possible and not going for it. She’d done it for him. Everything. It always came back to him.
He grabbed her shoulders, squeezed tight, then, in a flash, shoved her hard. She stumbled backward, bumping her shoulders and head against the retaining wall. An involuntary yelp escaped at the way her leg flashed a white-hot dagger of pain. She sucked it back in, denying her body’s reaction.
“You could have killed yourself.”
She softened. He’d been worried about her. “It was easy. I have no idea how that boy lost his head. The one you told us about. I would have had to try to hit the wall.”
“Damn you, Ria!”
“No, Benny. Stop!”
She ducked her head away from his rage. His elbow connected with her ribs. Her reflexes had gotten slow.
“The NDT is not going to see it that way. If they see this video, we are screwed.” He stepped closer again, fists at his sides, his eyes narrow slits. Ria backed up, shifted sideways to protect her cut leg. She was pressed against the cold metal of the garage door, could feel the faint vibration of it behind her, an echo of her own adrenaline-fueled heart racing.
When the slap came, she was ready. Now she remembered how to hold her breath and tears. She was one step out of her body by the time the second one connected.
He grabbed both her arms, squeezing tight, shaking her, rattling her.
“You’re in violation of your contract, Miss Victoria Marie Williams. You can’t take unnecessary risks. You can’t do whatever the hell you want. You belong to the NDT.”
As he let go, she blinked to refocus. His fist was inches from her face, his teeth clenched. She braced herself. Her old friend Fear whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
Finally, he stepped back. He was done. His hands opened, and he flexed his fingers. The way he always did when the rage had dimmed. Her own fingers stretched and then folded inward. Her chipped tooth felt rough under her tongue.
Thirty-Nine
Everything hurt more in the morning. Her jaw was tender, and the back of her head, too. Most unfamiliar was the cut on her leg. Ria had been aware of it all night, in the background of her sleep. Every time she moved, she felt the burning sting of the skin flaps tugging against each other under the mish-mash of crisscrossed bandages; but if she stayed in one position too long, it throbbed with a dull ache. She’d ripped open up the largest organ of her body. It had to hurt. Besides, hurting was easier than thinking.
She pushed the thought of Benny’s visit into the darkest part of her brain. She couldn’t think about going to the NDT. With him. It was too confusing, too many unknowns. It was like she was back trying to learn algebra—mixing numbers and letters had never worked for her. Each one on their own was tricky enough.
Instead, she concentrated on getting ready for caving. She wasn’t going to miss the overnight trip. Not for pain, not for anything. She might never have another chance. Besides, it was the only way to skip the constant replay of last night. She’d convinced herself she and Benny could start over, fresh, with new rules, but last night felt too familiar. It was an echo of too many other times she’d screwed up.
She showed up at the Talley’s house with her backpack, but it held only her toothbrush and shammy towel. She’d told her parents she was spending the night with Maggie. They didn’t know enough to doubt her.
Other gear was lined up in the garage. It was clear she’d missed a lot of planning.
“You need to carry your sleeping bag. Here’s your share of water to carry.” Cotton handed her a gallon jug.
He divvied up the other items between them. A first aid kit, extra batteries, ropes and straps, food bags. More than reasonable precautions.
“I think I’ll drink all the water now so I won’t have to carry it,” she said, placing her heavy backpack on her shoulders. Then, to the horrified look on Cotton’s face, “I’m joking.”
“Where can I put my makeup?” asked Flutie. “I have my hair dryer packed already. But I was hoping whoever brought the microwave could . . .”
“You are not amusing,” said Cotton.
“He stole hours of my life last night telling me what I could and could not bring.”
At the gate, Mr. Talley made them pose for a picture, all weighed down, and shiny clean.
“I can’t wait to see the before-and-after. You might not recognize us,” said Ria.
“It’s still good to have documentation of clothing and appearances before taking a risky journey. In case we go missing,” said Cotton.
A pained look crossed Mr. Talley’s face. But then he forced a smile. “Stick together. We’ll see you this time tomorrow, walking through this gate.”
It seemed that each of them felt the same tremor of expectation urging them along the trail. Flutie was a chirper, singsong talking the whole way. Besides their height and a general kind of unruliness to their curls, it was hard to see where she and Cotton were related.
As far as talking, and pace, Ria and Cotton matched up more evenly. “How’s your leg?”
“Okay.” She wished he could know about Benny’s visit without her telling him.
“Okay,” he answered. She wasn’t sure if it was simply an echo. Then he added, “I know yesterday made you feel.”
It was a funny, Cotton-esque way to put it, but it sounded right. Damn if she knew what to call this feeling either.
By the time they reached the entrance, her back felt damp and sweaty beneath the extra weight of her backpack. The heaviness of her helmet felt reassuring, instead of annoying.
It had been decided that Leo would lead the first part with Flutie, then Ria and Cotton at the back. The extra gear and people made the cave sound more muffled, and felt tighter, more crowded. When they reached the tunnel—still her least favorite part—they stopped to rearrange the extra gear.
“Move your backpack to the front,” said Cotton.
“So my backpack is now a frontpack?”
“Yes. Backpack, frontpack. Backpack, frontpack.”
“Just do it,” said Flutie.
Ria waited at the tunnel’s entrance, letting Flutie make progress ahead of her. She wanted to be sure she had some extra space before she started through. She reached her hand behind her, found Cotton’s. She squeezed, then let go.
Caving had filled her empty days. And along the way, she’d fallen for him. Or maybe it had been more of a climb. Either way, she liked the view. “How are you feeling, Cot
ton? Where are you on the chart?”
“I’m excited. Anticipating. Curious. Oh, and happy.”
“About making more maps?”
“Yes. I think this is going to be a very satisfying challenge to incorporate all the new data.”
“I love it when you talk maps.”
“Which part? The creation or the interpretation?” He paused. “Are you teasing me?”
“A little bit. But not completely.”
“Where are you guys?” Leo’s voice came through the dark.
It was an odd feeling to crawl with her backpack strapped to her chest, drooping down toward the floor, but better than having the extra weight on her back where she wouldn’t be able to control it. Her leg hurt more in this position, but the sharp ache was a distraction. She waited as long as she possibly could before she started counting. That trick still worked.
By the time they made the long trek and climb down into the pool room, they were all ready for a break. She needed to pace her water intake, but the mix of being thirsty and knowing it was the heaviest part of her load made it hard to sip slowly.
Flutie sat by the edge of the pond and peered in. “You seriously went swimming in here?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t resist. Not an entirely great idea.” But it hadn’t been awful, either. It was the kind of risky impulse she could be proud of now. Like the quarry. Even if she’d been wrong to do it, she was glad she did.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” said Flutie. “But we could skinny-dip.”
“No,” said Cotton. “We can’t.”
Ria nodded in agreement. She loved the way her helmet light added emphasis. It wasn’t only that she had to keep her bandages dry. The idea of swimming naked with Cotton was one thing, but with his best friend and sister, well, that was entirely something else.
“It would be physically impossible for me to skinny-dip,” said Cotton. “I would have to chunky-dunk.”
Their laughter echoed around them. A few minutes later, when Leo and Flutie had moved to the other side, she squeezed his hand. She liked his dunkability.
“This is where we head into uncharted territory,” said Leo.