by S. L. Naeole
I looked at him, annoyed at his lame attempt at sarcasm. So annoyed, I didn’t even stop myself as the reflex response I was so used to uttering whenever Graham had attempted the same thing simply came out.
“You’re quite welcome, General No Shit.”
Judging by the intake of his breath, I knew that was the last thing he had been expecting of me, which meant that my mind had blocked itself off again, leaving him in the lurch. Either that or he was in some corner with the mangled remains of some other thoughts that I hadn’t really been concentrating on too much. I was in the winning corner. And I wasn’t backing down.
“I don’t think that’s very ladylike language,” he said, his voice flat, his eyes cold steel.
I folded my arms across my chest, ready for this match. “I don’t care if it’s ladylike or not. I was provoked by someone who isn’t acting like a gentleman so I don’t think it’s necessary for me to act like a lady.”
“I am indeed a gentleman!”
“It’s certainly not gentlemanly to drag your date out of a wedding reception before she’s had a chance to say goodbye to the bride and groom. It’s also rude and just plain selfish, so I suggest you correct your own behavior before you start chastising me about mine. And another thing, it’s not angelic behavior either,” I huffed, and folded my arms across my chest, angry and hurt that he had cut my evening short without explaining why.
He glared at me, his eyes turning harder with each breath that passed between us. “What you know about what is and isn’t angelic behavior wouldn’t even fill one chapter of an encyclopedia that expands the entire history of this world.”
“And whose fault would that be, eh Mr. ‘I can’t tell you’? It’s okay though, because encyclopedias come in disk form now and there is only one of those,” I said in retort. And it felt good. Damn good.
He glowered at me, but I wasn’t budging.
“Why did we leave?” I demanded.
Silence.
“Thomas? Could you turn the car around, please? I’d like to go back to the wedding,” I said loudly, all the while keeping my eyes glued to Robert’s.
“Mr. Bellegarde?” came the hesitant voice from the driver’s seat.
Though he didn’t say anything, I knew that he had said something to the driver because we did not turn around. We sped up instead.
I cannot believe that you are ruining this evening for me.
That seemed to soften the hardness in his eyes. His rigid posture relaxed, even if only infinitesimally. It was a start.
Why did we leave so early, Robert? What was so awful?
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as they made little paths through the black strands, and my fingers itched to trace those paths. Even as angry as I was, he still affected me so profoundly; I had to double my efforts to focus on why I was so upset otherwise I’d be just another one of those love sick twits who fawned over him in French class.
I heard it. I knew what sound it was because it was the only sound in the entire car. It was the only sound that would have made me forget for a moment that I was angry at him for taking me away so early.
It was a chuckle.
“Grace, sometimes I think your mind is simply not equipped to handle all you put it through.”
I glared at him. “Insulting my mind isn’t exactly going to win you any points with me, Robert.”
He sighed, laughed once more, then sighed again. He leaned forward and grabbed a hold of my hand. Crap, I’d forgotten to keep them out of his reach. He laughed this time.
“Grace, I’m sorry that we left the party early. If it makes you feel better, then please know that I have known Hannah since she was born, and the last thing she had on her mind was our leaving without telling her goodbye.”
I tugged at my hand, but it wasn’t budging. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re not going back.” I felt my lower lip stick out involuntarily.
“No, we’re not going back,” he said softly, scooting closer to me, his movements slow so that I could see it happening.
I scooted away, “Are you taking me home then?”
It was like a game of scoot tag. He scooted. “I’m taking you to my home.”
He was going to win the game, because I couldn’t move. “What do you mean, you’re taking me to your home?”
He moved as close to me as he dared, and that was pretty darn close, before he answered my question. “I mean, I’m taking you to see my home. You had expressed some doubt as to whether or not one existed, did you not?”
I huffed, “Yeah! To your sister!” How had he known?
“Angel,” he said, as if that were an answer to all of my silent accusations.
I turned my head, not wanting to look into his eyes, not wanting to see the hypnotizing ripples that were ever present in those liquid pools that only existed when he was happy. I’d lose my train of thought if I took even one look. I knew it as sure as I knew my name.
Hearing my thoughts, I felt him scoot away, letting go of my hand as he did so. Only when I felt it was safe to turn my face did I do so. His face was less than an inch away from mine.
Gotcha.
The full impact of silver—liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn’t exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don’t know what it was. I don’t think it has a name. I only know that it was there, familiar yet not, and it felt like it was boiling, ready to spill over at any moment. I knew it was messing with my breathing, because I was getting dizzy, and I didn’t think I’d be able to remember how to breathe normally until he was at a safer distance.
“Robert, you—you’re too close. You need to give me some space,” I panted.
He shook his head, but did move back a bit. I whispered my thanks, and took a deep breath, luxuriating in it, and feeling saddened by it at the same time. Robert frowned in confusion. “What’s the matter, Grace?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. Can’t you figure out by reading my thoughts?”
“If you can’t figure out your own thoughts, how am I supposed to?”
I sighed, knowing that he was right. I turned my head and looked out of the car window, absentmindedly reaching for him with my hand. I had just rejected his nearness, and yet I still needed to feel him, feel he was there in some physical way, no matter how confusing it may have seemed. He accepted my hand, accepted me lacing my fingers through his, and accepted my sigh of contentment as the car slowed down and turned into a driveway that was lined on both sides by large rock walls.
It was unusual, to say the least. Most homes here had wooden fences, if they were fenced in at all, but that wasn’t what made the rock wall stand out. It was the color of the rocks that did. In the darkness, I could still tell that they were a bright white, like the color of new snow. “Are they painted?” I asked, not taking my eyes off of the gleaming white expanse that bordered the car now on both sides. They were tall. I wasn’t good at measuring by sight, but I wouldn’t doubt that they stood taller than I did at five-seven”.
“No, they’re not painted. And they’re six and a half feet tall,” Robert’s voice said, answering my unasked question.
I turned to look out the front of the vehicle to see where we were headed, and to see if the white walls would ever end. I laughed so loud, I startled the poor driver, his response causing the car to jerk to a stop.
Where the walls ended, there stood two statues. Of angels blowing on trumpets. Wearing togas.
“Are you kidding me?” I knew my laughter was growing louder, and at any second, I was sure I’d throw in a snort or two, but the irony was too much for me to deal with. As we pulled past the statues, and apparently a wrought iron gate that I had not seen, I wiped away the tears that had come with my spontaneous laughter. “Why do you have angel statues in front of your gate?”
He was smiling, amused that I had found the situation humorous. �
��Too obvious?”
I nodded, trying now to contain the rampant giggles that had taken over my body.
“Well, it’s the fact that it’s so obvious that works to our advantage. Aside from a few subtle differences, we don’t look much different from humans, nor do we behave much differently either. We’re basically hiding in plain sight,” he said, his voice sounding very self-satisfied, as though it were some great coup to look the way he did.
“You do know that the differences that you have are far from subtle,” I started, looking him over to catalogue just the few obvious ones I could spot right away. “For one thing, your eyes are not human in the slightest. No one’s eyes look like yours. Then there’s your face. It’s perfect. Nothing is too this or that. Everything is proportionate, symmetrical.
“There’s the way your voice seems to put everyone around them into a trance. I know you’re not doing it on purpose. You just…do it. Lark calls it your charm. When I talk, people want to cover their ears and run away screaming, but with you, they’d jump off a bridge in their grandmother’s underwear if you said it would be an interesting sight to see.”
He smiled at that last bit, and then pressed his hand to my mouth, “Shh. We’re here.”
The car had stopped in front of a large, white home. There was a simple, dark blue door in an overly large frame. It was flanked by two wrought iron sconces that were brightly lit. Robert waited until the driver had put the car in park, and then opened the door, not wanting to wait for the driver to do so himself. He was still holding my hand, and was pulling me across the seat until I was outside, my sandaled feet landing on concrete pavers that crisscrossed beneath them.
I took my time looking at the house. It was a two story, with two large bay windows in front, one on each side of the front door. The windows on the second floor had what looked like dark blue shutters framing the paned windows, with the window directly over the door being the only one without. I counted them, for some reason, noting that one window seemed out of place, as it extended over what could be a garage?
Robert tugged on my hand. “Don’t you want to see what it looks like on the inside?
I shook my head, suddenly feeling very nervous.
He looked at me, perplexed. “Why?”
“Because we’re alone,” I said shyly.
That seemed to please him a great deal, because he dazzled me with a brilliant smile. “You have my promise that I will behave like an absolute gentleman, Grace.”
And, knowing that he was telling the truth, I gladly accepted the hand that he then offered me as he led me into the house with the blue door.
SHORTCOMINGS
My tour of Robert’s house had been conducted as though I were a potential buyer, and he an agent looking to earn himself a very hefty commission. He waxed poetic about everything, from the floors to the ceilings; even the switches for the lights were praised. We ended the tour in the kitchen, and I was thoroughly impressed with it; it seemed larger than the entire lower half of my house.
“This is exactly the size of kitchen that I think one would need in order to feed Graham,” I joked, knowing that even the school cafeteria was probably no match for his penchant for eating. “What do you think?” I turned to Robert and waited for his response.
He wasn’t there. “Robert? Where’d you go?”
I walked through a narrow hallway that I assumed was the butler’s pantry, and ended up in the dining room. I ignored the furnishings in the room, having already seen them through the living room, and proceeded there. “Robert?”
I stood in the middle of the Bellegarde living room, surrounded by white sofas and glass tables, and couldn’t help but shake my head at the impracticality of it. “Robert, where did you go?” I called out again. I looked at the digital clock that glowed in the silver box that I recognized as the cable box, and gasped.
“Robert! I have exactly three minutes to get home! Get down here, now!!” I shouted.
When the digital seven turned into an eight, I bolted for the front door, throwing it open when I got there, and ran outside. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was that I was two minutes away from being in serious trouble, and I would be heading there on foot.
I ran for the gate, hopping on one foot as I took my sandals off. I threw them through the bars, hiked the skirt of the dress up, and started climbing. I was nearly to the top when my hands were pried off. “What?”
A pair of arms were around my waist, and the ground was getting further and further away. And then, all I could see were trees. I squirmed frantically, my arms searching, my hands clawing. “Robert?”
“Would it be anyone else?”
I sighed and relaxed. Then I screamed, because I was falling. “Roberrrrrrt!”
With a loud “umph”, I landed in his arms. Instinctively, I clamped onto him, my arms locking around his neck, my face pressed tightly against his chest. “Sorry. I needed a better grip on you and you were squirming too much,” he murmured into my ear. I could feel his lips against the soft hairs there, and knew, just knew that he was smiling.
“I think my heart fell out somewhere over your driveway,” I muttered into his shirt. He laughed quietly, nuzzling my hair as he did so.
Neither of us spoke for a bit after that; the only sound I could hear was the rush of wind around us as we travelled at an immense speed. When he finally spoke, he laughed quietly, nuzzling my hair as he did so. “Almost there.”
I was about to ask what he meant when I realized that we were no longer moving. He placed my feet on the ground, unwrapped my arms from his neck, and placed my sandals in my hands. He gave me a once over, and then turned me around. We were standing at the front door of my house.
“How fast were we going?” I gasped.
“Fast. Very fast. Now open the door before you turn me into a liar.” He placed a hand on my hair, then removed it very quickly.
I opened the door, turning to look behind me as I did so, but there was no one there.
“Robert?” I whispered.
Get inside of the house!
“Coward!” I hissed. But, I listened, taking one more look behind me, and then closing the door.
“Grace, is that you?” I heard being called out. So much for not waiting up.
“Yes, Dad, it’s me.”
I heard the springs of the recliner give way, and turned to see Dad standing in his robe by the bottom of the stairs. “Well, you’re home at twelve on the dot. That Robert is very…punctual.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Yes he is.”
“So where is he? He didn’t just drop you off and leave, did he?”
I shook my head, unable to get my tongue to cooperate and actually form the words that I knew were a lie.
Dad looked at my face, then looked at the door. “So what happened to him? You didn’t punch him, did you?”
I started laughing, the sound coming out in hysterical gasps, and quickly covered my mouth with my hand. My right hand. My right, cast-less hand that was supposed to be broken.
“Your cast is missing!” Dad shouted, his finger pointing at the very obvious lack of plaster on my arm. “Why is it off of your arm?”
I tried to think of some good excuse, but my mouth moved before my brain kicked into gear. “Robert took it off.” Seeing his shocked face, I quickly added, “It’s perfectly fine, Dad. See? I can use it, it doesn’t hurt or anything. I think the x-rays were wrong and they put the casts on me prematurely.” I bent my arm and wiggled my fingers in front of him, as if that would be enough to convince him.
Dad’s face was a very distinct shade of pinkish red. I would look up the name of the color later and find out it was called puce. “He took it off? With what?”
That one left me stumped. I opened my mouth to say something, anything other than the truth, and yet it still came out, “With his fingers.” Why could I not tell a lie? I gritted my teeth, unwilling to say another word, no matter what was asked of me.
“Grace A
nne Shelley, this isn’t time for jokes. Did you let him cut that cast off of your arm?”
I shook my head, forcing my jaw to stay shut.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Grace. This is very serious. If your arm is still broken-”
“But it’s not!” I protested, once again wiggling my arm around to demonstrate that it wasn’t.
He shook his head and pointed to the stairs. “Go upstairs. I’m making an appointment in the morning to see your doctor and finding out for myself.”
I didn’t bother trying to tell him that tomorrow would be Sunday. I simply did as I was told, and silently cursed Robert for leaving me to fend for myself after avoiding my questions at the same time. I wanted to stomp my feet, but I didn’t want to wake Janice up. I wanted to do a lot of things, but I simply opened my bedroom door and walked in, closing it behind me.
The soft glow of the moon allowed me just enough light to make my way around the room. I tossed the sandals that were still in my hand—the hand that would probably get me grounded because it wasn’t surrounded in plaster—onto the ground next to the bed and walked over to my dresser. I pulled out a pair of boxers and a tank top and threw those onto the bed behind me. I sat at the foot of my bed, and looked into the mirror.
“Gaaaah!” I croaked.
The soft white glow wasn’t coming from the moon. It was coming from the person who was sitting on my bed, and who looked a bit too comfortable for my taste. I jumped off of the mattress, turning around and backing into my dresser, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked at my window. It was still shut. “How did you get in here?” I hissed.
He pointed to the window.
I looked at it again. This time I could see that it was slightly ajar. “Did you do that misting thing?” I whispered, my breath coming out in short bursts.
He nodded, and then smiled. Why are you whispering?
“Because I don’t want my dad to hear!” I whispered angrily. “Why are you in here?”
I wanted to apologize.
“Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?” When he shook his head, I added, “or at least until I’ve changed my clothes?”