A Light in the Window

by Jolyse Barnett

  He sat back on his heels. “Yeah, the past has a way of haunting us when we least expect it.” He turned and sat next to her, his back against the wall. “What’s haunting you?”

  She took a deep breath, now picking at her sweater’s hem. “Remember how we used to tell each other everything?”

  “Uh huh.” He sat next to her. “Until we didn’t.”

  She crossed her arms. “I treated you like you were my worst enemy and you’d done nothing wrong. I buckled under pressure. One of the popular girls singled me out, targeted me because I was different.”

  He leaned close. “Your differences are what I’ve missed the most,” he whispered. “It was when you followed the crowd that we lost each other.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Being different is social suicide in junior high.”

  He sighed. “Was it really that bad, Jade, so bad that you resorted to targeting your best friend?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo it. But I can’t.” She squeezed her hands together until the tips of her fingers turned white. Talking about this didn’t change what she had done, or fill the hole in her heart created by her own hand, but he deserved the explanation anyhow. “I hated that our friendship put me on the school bully’s radar. That’s why I was so cruel to you. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the reason. I wanted to end the name-calling, the jokes with me as the punch line.” She sighed. “Looking back, I suspect I still would have been targeted. Your friendship with me wasn’t the cause, but a side-effect of my condition.”

  “Condition? I don’t understand. What could have been so bad that you turned on me?” He reached over and wiped her tears with the flat of his palm. “Tell me. What happened?”

  She took a ragged breath and swiped a hand across her runny nose. “I—I can’t talk about it.” Another shudder racked her body and she squeezed her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to block the painful images, but they flooded in, consuming her.

  Before she knew it, she was spilling her guts to him, telling him all that she had held in for almost eighteen years. “It was the first day of eighth grade. I had just covered my hands with that slimy pink goo Starling Central called soap. I was about to turn on the water when the door to the bathroom opened and four of our classmates spilled in, chattering about boys and clothes...”

  “Well, look who’s here,” Amy Wilder remarked to her cronies.

  Jade looked in the mirror at the girls approaching from her left. They crowded in behind her, their trendy clothes and clunky shoes, pin-straight locks, and Sunflower perfume mocking her plain white button-down, jeans, and Converse sneakers. Jade had never been particularly close with this crew, or any of the girls in her class for that matter. She was what her teachers called a flitter, friendly with everyone but close to no one. Except for Benji. He was her buddy.

  Amy pulled out her LipSmackers and threw a sideways glance at Jade. “The boys’ room is down the hall.”

  “The boys’ room?”

  The other three girls giggled.

  Jade’s mouth fell open. “What’s so funny?”

  Amy leaned over the sink to reapply color to her already pink, shiny lips. She stopped. “Don’t look at me. I don’t want to turn you on.”

  What was going on? Jade’s stomach dropped like she was in a roller coaster that had just begun its rapid descent from an impossibly steep incline.

  Nicolette chimed in. “It will be so uncomfortable changing in gym if you are.” She shuddered.

  “Well, are you?” Brittney’s shrill voice bounced off the tile walls.

  Jade turned around and looked from one girl to the next, pink goo dripping unheeded to the floor. What were they asking her? She felt slow. She was slow.

  “I see I need to spell this out for you.” Amy clucked with displeasure. “You’re gay, Jade, and you don’t even know it. You’re a lesbian.”

  The last word echoed in the small space and into Jade’s brain. Comprehension dawned. She clutched the sink with gooey hands and fought to keep down her breakfast, that coaster inside her stomach racing around a sharp corner and out of control, off the tracks.

  She stared at herself in the streaked mirror. Her hair was short, her face nude, and her eyebrows thick and untamed. She looked down. Her nails were bitten short and had never been polished. She didn’t wear jewelry and her only scent the citrus deodorant her mother made her wear because she refused to use perfume.

  She thought about her friends from downstate. They didn’t dress and act like her, either. Maybe they accepted her only because they had to. Their mothers were best friends. Or maybe they just hadn’t noticed the truth about her yet – a truth she’d never even considered. Would they turn against her too?

  She felt stupid for taking so long to understand what the girls were even talking about, stupid for having no idea if they were right. They said it as if there was no question.

  More girls entered the bathroom, banging open stall doors in the mad pee-dash and checking their make-up in the large wall mirror. A few joined the semi-circle around the sinks, some curious, others like they simply enjoyed being part of a hyena pack, waiting for the kill.

  “Well, are you gay?”

  Amy’s voice slipped down Jade’s back like ice water, a cold wake-up call. She covered her ears with her hands, pink goo now in her tangle of hair, and gave the worst possible answer. Worse than either yes or no. “I-I don’t know.”

  The girls squealed and clutched each other, looking to their fearless leader for guidance.

  “You. Don’t. Know.” Amy crossed her arms like Mrs. Warren in English class about to impart a kernel of knowledge significant to the test. “So work it out. Normal girls dress like us, not you. Normal girls aren’t friends with boys. We date them, if they’re cute, but that doesn’t include geeks like Benji Stephens.” She tucked her lip balm back into her purse and snapped it closed. “You get the picture? Do you still not know?” She gave Jade a last deadly look-over before she turned to leave with the other girls. “See ya.”

  Jade waited until they had all sashayed out in their pastel tops and short skirts. The third period bell rang, and on numb legs she managed to get herself to class.

  Now, she stared at the pattern of flowers on the wall opposite where she sat. “All I could think was that I wanted to be like all the other girls. I wanted to know I was fine, normal, sure about things.” She heaved a long sigh, dreading the part she was going to share next. “I turned on the water, and as I cleaned the pink off my hand and out of my hair, I made up my mind. I would change. I would learn to be like the rest of them, and the first thing I needed to do was cut you out of my life.”

  “And you did.”

  “And I did.”

  He stood, cleared his throat, walked around, looking everywhere but at her. “We should get moving if we want to finish before nightfall.”

  “Yeah.” She brushed off her jeans, her limbs as weak as they’d been in eighth grade. Did she have the energy to stand?

  Would Ben look at her differently now? Was he wondering, as she had, whether what the girls had said was true? She didn’t have an issue with other people’s sexual orientation, but maybe he did. Maybe he would despise her for having so little knowledge of herself, and so little faith in who she might turn out to be.

  But no. When his eyes met hers, they crinkled back at her with...friendship.

  Her heart swelled. She had missed him so much. So much. Maybe sharing her private pain had been worth it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends. Start something. Find something.

  Smiling, she reached out, his hand enveloping hers. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jade peered into Mr. Van Salzberg’s living room. Sadie was asleep near the old man’s feet while a game show blared from the big screen TV in the Victorian mansion.

  She and Ben had worked side-by-side, placing an electric candle in each of the home’s windows, connecting them with extension cord
s and setting up the timers. The simple, repetitive task did little to alleviate the sizzle in the air between them. An accidental hand brush here, a heated glance there, they’d worked their way from floor to opulent floor and room to beautiful room. By the time they reached the ground floor where they stood now, Jade’s nerves were shot.

  One more touch or glance and she’d break into a thousand pieces.

  He’d been holding back, she was certain of that. What if he kissed her again and let it all go? She shivered, rubbing her sweater-clad arms.

  “Why don’t you sit in front of the fireplace while I take care of these last few windows?” He didn’t wait for a response, taking the box with the remaining materials toward the back of the house.

  Jade strode into the living room. “We’re about finished with the lights. Are you sure you don’t want us to get a tree for you?”

  The man turned watery eyes toward her. “No children. No wife. No need for a tree.”

  She sat on the couch next to his recliner. “Do you have plans for Christmas, any friends coming to visit?”

  The man ignored her question, turning his attention back to the TV.

  “Mister Van Salzberg, would you like me to get you anything to eat or drink?”

  “I could use a Scotch.”

  “Anything to eat?”

  “Pizza’s in the fridge.”

  “Do you want it heated up?” She resisted the urge to wring her hands as a helpless feeling washed over her.

  “I like it cold.” Her voice was flat.

  She strode to the kitchen, holding back tears.

  Ben leaned over the sink, placing a candle in the window above it when she entered. “There. All done.”

  She walked to the refrigerator, turning her face away from him so he wouldn’t sense her fragility.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Getting Mr. V. a snack.” She located the leftover pizza on the bottom shelf. “Where would someone keep Scotch in a house like this?”

  “I’m that horrible a co-worker?” Ben joked.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s for Mr. V.”

  “I’ll get it.” He disappeared into another room, somewhere off the kitchen, returning with a bottle to join her at the counter. He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Do you know the history of candles in windows, the idea behind the Starling Lights Project?”

  She dropped her shoulders. “It’s about sharing the Christmas spirit, right?”

  He threw her a sidelong glance and opened the Scotch.

  She handed him a tumbler with ice cubes. “Something to do with the Star of Bethlehem?”

  He gave a brief nod. “Close. In Ireland, people placed lit candles in windows to signal secret religious gatherings. In other European nations, especially ones like your home country of Germany,” he nudged her with his elbow, “a lit candle in a window symbolized the hearth, the center of family life.” He poured the drink.

  She scrunched her nose. “Why do you think this tradition so important to the community?”

  Ben lifted a shoulder. “The Adirondacks can be a harsh environment. Only the bravest of souls traveled to the New World and the hardiest of them eventually ventured to settle here. I imagine it was comfort to carry on those traditions from their homelands.” He chuckled. “We’re still isolated here to a certain extent, with all major roads, train lines, and airports an hour or more away. So we depend on each other, and hold fast to our ways.” He stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble. Did any of that make sense?”

  “Yeah, oddly enough, it did.” She smiled.

  He nodded at the plate in her hand. “Ready?”

  The thin man dozed in his recliner, his face lined and unhappy even in sleep. Ben turned off the TV and set the drink on the table beside the lounger. Jade set the plate near the Scotch and reached for an afghan on the couch to cover the gentleman.

  Ben shook his head.

  She stopped and mouthed, “Why not?”

  He pointed at the ashtray with the smoldering cigar on the table. He leaned toward the sleeping man. “Mr. Van Salzberg?” he whispered.

  Sadie woke. At the dog’s movement, the man opened his eyes.

  Ben pointed to the table. “Here’s your snack, Mr. V. I left the papers with SLP’s phone number if you need anything else. Okay?” At the man’s nod, he walked toward the foyer where Jade’s and his coats were hung. “Nice seeing you.”

  Mr. Van Salzberg blinked at Jade. “You’re leaving too?”

  She leaned forward and patted the man’s frail arm. It trembled beneath her hand. “It was wonderful meeting you today. I promise to come back.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

  A glimmer of a smile graced the man’s face. He nodded. “See you tomorrow then.” He closed his eyes again.

  She and Ben bundled into their coats and left the house, quietly locking the door behind them. He threw a quizzical look over his shoulder as they walked down the long path to his vehicle.

  “What?” Jade asked, as she pulled on her hat and shoved her gloves into her coat pockets.

  He didn’t break stride. “So...I see you like older guys, much older.”

  “Really?” She ran to sock him with a playful punch, but he was too quick for her, catching her fist in his hand. They squared off in the middle of Mr. Van Salzberg’s path. She watched, mesmerized, as Ben brought her hand up to his mouth and planted a kiss on her bare knuckles. There was a teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re eager to strike up a friendship with grumpy Mr. V. but you refuse to have a coffee with a charming guy like me?”

  “Stop already,” she laughed, tugging against his grip.

  Ben released her hand and stuffed his bare ones into jeans pockets. “Seriously, Jade.” He began walking backwards on the path in front of her. “Why the effort?”

  She glanced back at the huge house. “He needs a friend.” She strode forward.

  He turned as she started past him. “Yes, and you used to be mine. We can have it back. The truth is out between us. It can’t hurt us anymore.”

  Her breath hitched at his words and she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m only here for a few weeks.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

  She pulled on her gloves against the growing chill, and gestured for him to join her. Sure, they both felt the attraction but they were adults. They could control themselves. Why risk losing out on the potential of a lasting friendship because of a short-term thrill?

  Together, they walked the rest of the way to his SUV. Ben started the engine, readied the car for the short trip, and soon they were on their way. She relaxed, sinking into the heated leather seat, listening to the whirring tires until they arrived at the street where her mother’s car was parked.

  Blue shadows nestled in the snow, the sky overcast, and dusk falling. She picked up her purse and patted Sadie’s soft head draped over the front seat between Ben and her. “Thanks.” She threw her SLP partner a smile.

  Ben shifted into park. “I’ll be away on business the next couple days, but I should be home Friday the latest.” He turned to her. “I’d like to see you.”

  Bree’s text about Ben being her Christmas gift came back to her. No one could ever have too many friends, and mending her relationship with the boy next door seemed as good a place to start as any. “I’d like that. Friends?”

  “It’s a start.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss, hotter than the one he’d snuck in Mr. Van Salzberg’s house, causing her fingers to wrap around his broad shoulders and her toes to curl inside her toasty Uggs.

  He pulled away with a stifled groan. “Enjoy the rest of your week.”

  “You too,” she breathed. She struggled with her seatbelt, managed to unbuckle it after three tries, open the car door, and stumble to her mother’s vehicle. Whoa. Friends? Who was she fooling?

  Two days later Ben stood in his living room, staring out his floor-to-ceiling windows that formed his home’s east wall as the sun set on Starling Lak
e’s serene waters. He’d expected the view, along with the pine scent of his freshly cut Christmas tree to take the edge off his restlessness, but they hadn’t done the trick. He turned and stared at the paltry number of ornament boxes stacked next to the couch.

  This was his first Christmas in the new house. The tree deserved to be decorated with respect, not look like one Charlie Brown had bought. “Time for another trip into town, girl.” He scratched behind Sadie’s ears. “We’ve got some shopping to do.”

  But then his phone trilled out its Christmas ring tone and when he picked it up he heard his mother’s voice. “How was Lake George?”

  He jingled the leash as he paced in the foyer. “Fine.”

  “I won’t keep you, just calling to remind you about the party next Friday.”

  He chuckled. “Have I ever missed your holiday dinner party?”

  “Well, there’s always a first.” She hesitated. “I heard from Alice at church that you volunteered for SLP.”

  “Yes.” He scratched his head. Where was this conversation headed?

  “Would that be before or after Jade Engel signed up?”

  Aha. Real reason for the call. “You tell me. Alice was the one doing the arranging.”

  “You didn’t have to agree to it.”

  “Now that wouldn’t have been Christmassy of me, now would it?”

  She sighed. “Benjamin. You just ended things with Sofia. Do you think dating my friend’s daughter so soon is wise?”

  “Wise? I thought being with Sofia was wise, but look how that turned out. Let’s not over-analyze it.” He pulled on his leather jacket.

  “Gigi is very protective of her kids.”

  He snorted. “Are you saying you’re not? Say hi to Dad for me. See you next Friday if not before. Right now I’ve got things going on.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  The familiar sing-song of his mother’s parting words used to annoy him as a kid but slid right off at twenty-eight. Yeah, he knew what he was doing. He grew more sure of it by the minute. He stuffed the phone into his jeans pocket and whistled for Sadie. “C’mon, girl, let’s get some fresh air.”