by Cassia Leo
Both of their pajamas were soaked through. Jon moved quickly, shedding first his own clothes, and then helping Ana with hers. She started to come to her senses, but she was not moving near as fast as she must have been when she sleep-walked out the door and into the snow. He rushed to start the shower, quickly returning to her side, holding her close as he helped her toward the tub stall. Jon stepped in, and then pulled her into the shower with him, yanking the curtain closed behind them as the hot water poured over their freezing bodies.
Ana pressed her cold body up against his, shivering, her discomfort and pride forgotten entirely. Jon wrapped his arms tightly around her, sliding them up and down her back, her body, all over her, to spread the warmth of the water, to fold her into it.
She lifted her head up to face him as the water rushed over her face, between her lips. Jon’s heart was racing as he stared into her wide, blue eyes. His mind swam with thoughts in those brief moments, but none escaped. Pushing his thoughts aside, he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her roughly.
“Ohh,” Ana whispered, as if for the first time realizing they were both naked, their bodies already wrapped around each other for comfort. Jon forgot his own unease and lifted her swiftly into his arms, pressing her body against the shower wall as he pushed harder against her, kissing her all over, everywhere. I know you, Ana Deschanel. And you know me.
Jon wound his hands through Ana’s wet hair, holding on tightly, afraid if he stopped to think she would disappear entirely and so would he.
Ana wrapped her muscled legs around his waist. Jon felt her hips rise, and his own movements matched hers as he entered her, the shock of his action forcing him further into the moment, and away from reality. They both gasped, soaked, and consumed with the moment, relinquishing to each other the control they had both held onto so dearly in the past. He thrust into her, against her, kissing her, devouring her. He was not Jon anymore. Not the same. He was alive.
Jon shuddered against her, and felt Ana experience the same release. The moment passed almost as quickly as it arrived.
He gently set her down, and they stood in the shower, watching each other, panting and speechless. Ana’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes were wide with shock. Her wet hair framed her pale, pretty face, and he reached out with one hand to touch it. She closed her eyes and let her head fall to a rest in his hand, and with his other he pulled her close to him. They remained that way as the water rained down on them and their silent, private thoughts.
***
41- ANA
What in the hell just happened? She released a deep sigh that felt like it had been building for hours. Jon. Wrong brother, Ana.
Jon had gingerly helped her into the bed, glancing back at her as he moved toward the door. He said nothing, but his gaze stayed on her until he switched off the light and she heard the door close.
The night she brought in an injured Cocoa, he was repulsed by her. When she awoke and he was sitting by her bedside, he was terrified of her. Even Finn hadn’t disagreed when she remarked that Jon didn’t like her. Well, she didn’t like him either. He was cold, reclusive, odd, and she felt his eyes always on her, silently judging.
And who does that remind you of, Ana?
She curled into a fetal position under the blankets. Her body was sore from sleeping, and she found herself experiencing another familiar soreness between her legs. She couldn’t believe she had sleep-walked. How many years had it been since she last terrified her father with nocturnal wanderings? She thought she was past it. Hers was the variety of sleepwalking that often got her in trouble, and even put her life at risk. Her neighbor once found her jogging around the block in her bra and panties at two in the morning.
Each episode had been unique, though this was the first time one of her walks ended with rescue sex. Wrong brother, Ana.
Wrong brother, indeed. She should go downstairs and talk to Jon about what happened, sort it out, put a label on the unplanned encounter. But she didn’t, because she knew how she would react if Jon tried to pin that conversation on her. And he’s like me.
That realization made her dislike him even more. For as guarded as she might be, she was never cruel to others. She never hurt people because of who she was. But that’s not entirely true, is it? How many times have my words or actions mistakenly hurt my father, or one of my friends? Or even Nicolas? What about the reason I’m here in Maine?
Ana missed Nicolas so much she felt an ache deep in her chest. She wanted to call him, but Jon told her the phones were down. It’s probably for the best. He would listen to my fuzzy, convoluted story filled with holes and fly his ass out here to rescue me.
Eventually Ana would have to tell him about Oz. She had no doubt Oz was still struggling with his actions and would eventually have a meltdown, spilling the truth in all directions.
Considering Nicolas and Oz gave her faceted mind time to decide how best to resolve the situation with Jon. It would be better not to put off the conversation with him any longer, for the awkwardness would grow and fester over time. She made her way downstairs carefully, using the bannister for support. Jon heard her coming, and rushed to offer assistance, but she shook her head, determined.
“Coffee?” he offered. He was resisting the urge to help, but was one step behind her in case she fell. The gesture was uncomfortable in spite of, or maybe because of, their recent intimacy.
Ana nodded. “Jon?”
“Yes?” She almost laughed when she saw his face. Bless his heart, he thinks I’m about to get girly on him.
“We shouldn’t tell Finn about this.” She took the coffee from his hands, their eyes meeting briefly as she spoke. Jon was clearly relieved at her suggestion.
“For sure,” he said with a hollow chuckle, and she thought again how unnatural, but nice, it was to hear him laugh. “This never happened.”
Well, I wouldn’t go that far… but if that’s what it takes. “What never happened?” she gently teased back.
The atmosphere in the room lightened after that. They both relaxed as they sat in rockers in the family room, looking out the large bay window toward the cold sea. She recalled the afternoons that she would sit out and wait for Finn, for that brief exchange of waves. Like a silly girl. But no one had ever accused Anasofiya Deschanel of being a silly girl.
She could only imagine what Finn thought after everything she had revealed to him, but it hadn’t been enough to chase him away. He didn’t seem put off at all, even going so far as to invite her to come home with him. She wondered how he felt now that they had shared this unlikely trauma together. Well, you did ask me to come over.
He’s so not your type, Muffins, she could hear Nicolas saying.
Maybe that’s why I like him.
“I hope he returns soon,” Ana said and meant it. She did like Finn. At first she thought he reminded her of the life she was escaping, but instead he reminded her that not everything was as it seemed. He gave her a startling hope that life could be different, if she allowed it.
Even in her healing sleep, she had sensed a comforting presence. She knew Finn had not left her side. He could have. He wouldn’t have known she sensed him. But he stayed. When Ana spoke with him again, she would uncover if he had done it out of obligation or something deeper.
She wished she could have reassured him somehow. Don’t worry about me, Finnegan St. Andrews, she would say. I come from a unique family, and the one thing I do well is take care of myself. I’ll be good as new, don’t you fret. But he was across the snow-covered town now, and she didn’t know when she’d be able to tell him any of that.
“If there is a classification somewhere between mortal and invincible, that’s Finn. He’s fearless, but not reckless. He will be home as soon as he can,” Jon reassured her. Ana thought that might have been the second longest statement she had ever heard him make.
Did I really have sex with him? That really happened? Well, according to him, it didn’t.
She sipped her coffee
, as the bittersweet remembrance of her childhood romance with Oz came over her in waves.
Dating Oz had never occurred to Ana as they moved from childhood to adolescence, despite how very much alike they were. Neither fit into the greater world especially well. Both preferred the comfort of a book to people, because books provided an innocuous protective blanket, buffering them from reality. Ana felt safe with Oz, in a way she only would have realized if the constancy of his presence were removed entirely. Oz understood her, and more broadly, he accepted the unusual abilities which were scattered about the Deschanel bloodlines. Some called it a “gift,” others a curse. To Ana it was a practical excuse for her personal inclination to remain distant.
Oz intuitively discerned her hesitancy. “Even if you showed them all who you were, they'd never understand,” he said one day, as they studied beneath a tree in his parents' backyard. Ana still remembered the way the sun shone crudely through the fall storm, and how the leaves from the banana tree provided complete shelter from the incessant rain.
“But you do,” she'd replied, nose down in a book.
He had responded by smiling from behind his own book, resting his hand on her leg before resuming reading.
But while he offered Ana acceptance, he reflected his own personal challenges through a heavy resignation, moving from one vapid debutante to another, while Ana chose a full retreat from dating to protect her heart.
It was strangely fitting they finally came together on the night of their junior prom, an event which signified to her all the terrors of her teenage life, culminated in one evening.
They’d both come with inappropriate dates: Oz with his latest experiment in normalcy; Ana with a boy she had no interest in, but accepted his invitation anyway at the urging of her stepmother.
When her date inevitably abandoned her, it was Oz who offered her a lifeline to safety.
It started with a dance.
Ana had never been in the arms of a boy before; not like that. The warmth she felt when Oz put his arms around her waist made her realize how real he was, and the weight of that realization overwhelmed her. His breath was hot near her ear; she detected his heartbeat through their joined hands. She would never forget that feeling: the subtle pulsing transferring warmth through to her in soft vibrations. She wondered if everyone noticed things like this. Or if Oz had always felt like this, and she'd simply missed it.
Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, or so terrifying.
The dance led to an escape to a party upstairs, where Ana finally let go of the fears binding her. All the while, Oz was there, holding her up, physically and emotionally, until she could no longer remember why she’d fought so hard against this comfort.
In her intoxication, she’d made a move on him. Not like this, he’d said, and then gently held her as she got sick, paying the price for her earlier over-indulgence. She later fell asleep beside him, as he watched over her, and woke up the next morning still wrapped in the security of his arms.
Not like this, he’d said the night before, but things were different in the morning light.
Colin, I’ve never done this before.
Woken up next to a hot man in a strange hotel room?
She laughed. You know what I mean.
Me either, Ana. But I want to. With you. I’ve always wanted to.
He protected her once again, by showing her the full extent of his care for her, and how safe she was in returning it. Nothing had ever been more real to her than the sensation of her dear friend bringing her over the precipice of girlhood. She completely surrendered to him, without fear. Understanding then, for the first time, intimacy could be so much more than a burden or something to fear. That her desire to be with Oz could be beautiful, not terrible.
Like everything else in her life, Ana ruined that relationship by slowly forgetting the comfort he had given her and building the wall of solitude back up. She had annihilated it completely by sleeping with him years later, potentially destroying his marriage and family.
And now, with Finn, she was repeating the same mistake. She knew she would not be able to forget about what happened with Jon. It had meant something to her in the same way the first time she was with Oz had meant something. That didn’t simply go away.
But I have to try. I don’t want to be a person who can’t connect with anyone. Someone who callously uses sex like it doesn’t matter. I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t do this to the people I care about anymore. I need to make a choice, live with it, and never look back.
And if I’m not capable of choosing? If this is who I am destined to be for all time? Then it really is hopeless...
***
42- FINNEGAN
Finn was still trying to get his bearings. In the movies, when someone had a gun held to their head, he would think, Well that sucks, but I bet there are 100 ways they can get out of this situation. In real life, all he could focus on was the sensation of the cold metal against his skin and how badly Alex’s hand was trembling.
“Alex, come on,” Finn coaxed, carefully. He was afraid to even move his head. He knew how a shotgun worked, and didn’t want one unloaded in his skull. It was alarming how Alex’s hands would not stop shaking, and Finn couldn’t see how close his finger was to the trigger.
“Did ya get all the food ya need?” Alex stuttered. He kept shifting from one foot to the other, and Finn felt the barrel of the shotgun correspondingly move left and right. His head ached from where Alex had smashed his skull.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go. I’m going back to yer house with ya.”
Finn started to ask questions but Alex interrupted him with a rough nudge of the gun. Finn imagined the round exploding and decided as little movement as possible would be best. He had yet to actually analyze what the hell was going on. Having known Alex all of his life, nothing about this situation made any sense. Jon thought Alex was a bit twisted, but Finn knew the man was harmless. He would have thought he was dreaming if not for how real the steel of the old shotgun barrel felt pressed against his bloody, achy skull. I bet the crazy ass put rock salt in it so he has an excuse to shoot me. But that would still hurt like the devil.
Finn was not confident about driving back in the dark. The streetlights on Androscoggin were on, but they lit up very little of the actual road. Compounding the darkness, all the shop lights that would have helped illuminate the street were off. He hardly knew how to drive the temperamental beast. And as if that weren’t enough, while he had been making a path to the food storage, the new storm had started, with a vengeance.
Once they were settled into the cab, Finn said, without turning his head, “Alex. Can you please take the gun off me? I’m not going anywhere.” Where would I go anyway? I couldn’t outrun a shotgun in this snow.
“Nah, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust ya, I can’t.” Alex was stammering again. What in the hell has happened to him?
“Alex,” he tried using his father’s calm, rational voice. “I could not outrun you in this if I tried. If you don’t take this damn gun from my head, you may as well shoot me, and then yourself, because I am not driving this gigantic goddamn snow beast with a steel bomb about to go off. We can sit here and freeze to death.”
Alex thought about it a moment and then lowered the gun, slowly. He was shivering so badly that the barrel was making a clickity-clack noise as it bumped up against the buttons on his coat. “I’ll take it away from yer head, but I ain’t putting it down,” he said, sounding more like a stubborn child than a middle-aged man.
“Fine, just don’t point it at me,” Finn compromised, starting up the snowcat. Alex jumped next to him as it roared to life. Finn pictured the news after they found the two of them in pieces all over the cab from a rogue shotgun pellet. “Relax, outlaw!”
“There’s only one outlaw in this rig, and it ain’t me.” Alex’s eyes burned holes in him as he maneuvered in reverse and then forward toward home.
Finn thought again of Ana. I’ve
kept Jon safe from the world, and I can do the same for her.
He glanced to his right and wondered what he might need to do to keep Ana safe from this trembling madman.
***
43- NICOLAS
Nicolas never had any doubts that Jennifer would come through, but the longer they waited, the more he worried. The money had already exchanged hands, but he had felt good about trusting her—hoping his sense wasn’t wrong this time—and had been waiting with Oz on the pier for over an hour, in the pitch black.
At first she told them they would leave at first light in the morning. She called back later and said the fishing boat captain was too nervous about the prospect of being caught and thought night would be better.
“Isn’t that less safe, even, than the already unsafe daytime trip we were planning?” Nicolas asked.
She sighed. “Those are his terms. I even offered him more of your money, and he wouldn’t budge.”
So be it.
Nicolas asked Oz if he was sure he wanted to come. You can stay here in the hotel Ozzy. I won’t think less of you, he said, and meant it. If captains who were raised in this weather wouldn’t run, then the risks were real. He felt bad enough dragging Oz to Maine with him, and away from Adrienne and the kids.
Oz snickered at that. Our hotel doesn’t even have cable.
Nicolas and Oz exchanged no words standing on the pier, but they both had enough thoughts to keep themselves occupied. Nicolas watched his friend and thought, Well now we really have been through everything.
On the flight over, a specific memory continued dancing around the tip of his thoughts, until he finally allowed himself to explore it. It was Ana’s senior year of undergraduate studies at Tulane. Nicolas had discovered a letter, peeking out from under her textbooks. We are pleased to extend an invitation to the English program at Oxford University.