Night Sky

by Jolene Perry

  “Love you, too.” I lean into her, even though I’m wet. I know she doesn’t mind.

  “Jameson, you’re not…really depressed or anything are you?” I can tell it pains her to even ask.

  I chuckle. “I’m not going to off myself, Mom. Don’t worry.”

  She kisses my wet temple. “You’re on your own for dinner. I’m here on my lunch break.”

  “Mom, it’s three in the afternoon.” I look at her as she stands up. This is her lunch break? How many hours a day is she working?

  “I wanted to see you after school. I’ll be home by seven or eight o’clock.”

  “Okay.” But I’m worried. She has to be tired.

  As soon as she disappears into the house, I slide back down into the water and sit on the bottom. There’s too much to think about. At least the world is quiet down here.

  ***

  I know I’m the only one home, which means I’m the only one who can answer the door. Which means I have to pull my sorry ass out of bed, and get the door.

  I open the door and my heart stops.

  Sky. Home days early.

  She’s in snug yoga pants that stop near her knees and a long sleeve t-shirt. She looks so soft—like something I need to have in my arms.

  Before I have a chance to form a coherent sentence, she asks, “So, do you remember when we went out on that really awesome date?” Her hips slide to the side, and her eyes are playful. I love her like this.

  Also, does she not notice how I’m staring or is she simply ignoring the fact?

  “The one we went on like six days ago?” I ask.

  “That’s the one.” A corner of her mouth pulls up.

  “Oh yes, I remember.” I’m still in shock that she’s back in town early…and she’s right here in front of me.

  “That was you, taking care of me.”

  “Okay.” Kind of, only I really did just want to be closer to her, so it was kind of for me, too.

  “Tonight, I’m taking care of you.”

  I step toward her raising an eyebrow. I could think of a few ways I’d like to be taken care of.

  “Puh-lease.” She pushes past me into the house, a large bag in her hand. “You’re an emotional wreck. And I know to guys, it doesn’t matter, but it does matter to girls. So tonight I’m going to be your friend,” she says as she turns to face me.

  “Sounds depressing,” I tease.

  “Don’t tease.” She narrows her eyes.

  “But I’ll want to kiss you all night, and if we’re friends, I won’t be able to.” I wonder if protesting will get me anywhere.

  “Jameson, just take what I’m offering,” she says, trying to sound like she’s exasperated when she’s really not.

  “Okay.” But I haven’t seen her in days. I want something.

  She stands looking at me. Her eyes widen. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m serious!” I’ve been thinking about our kiss since she left.

  “Fine, come here. Let’s get the kiss over with.” She rests against the counter and motions with her hand for me to step closer. Her face is flat. She looks almost bored.

  “I’m sorry that kissing me is so torturous for you.” I step closer. She’s so beautiful I feel it in my chest.

  “It’s not.” She shakes her head. Her voice is soft. “Kissing you is like…it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.” I watch her swallow. Does this mean she’s nervous? Does Sky get nervous?

  This makes me pause. I pause long enough to get my head on straight, so I don’t devour her in my need to feel our lips together. I take the bag of out her hands and set it on the kitchen counter. I can hear her breathing change—it’s more shallow and loud. I’m thrilled to have this effect on her. I brush my lips against hers and open my mouth slightly before kissing her again. Her arms slide around my neck, bringing us together. Now she’s pressing herself against me, and it’s her mouth that’s moving more urgently against mine. This is amazing. My body is both tense and relaxed at the same time.

  “You are…dangerous,” she whispers in my ear.

  I try desperately to stop my mouth from pulling into a grin. I need to be cooler than that.

  “Come on. Show me to your room.” She picks up her bag from the counter, and I know she’s purposefully keeping her eyes off mine.

  “And pick up where we just left off?” I slide my fingers down her back. Her shirt is as soft as it looks.

  “I’m starting to rethink the whole honesty thing,” she teases.

  “So now what?” I sit on my bed patting the blanket for her to join me.

  “I called your mom.” She’s still standing.

  “What?”

  “I needed to know what to bring for dinner.”

  “What?” Why is this so confusing? I don’t care that she called my mom. It’s just…

  “Fresh Mex. Chicken burrito with black beans. Right?” Her dimples show that she’s trying really hard not to smile, but failing miserably.

  “Wow, yeah.” Thanks Mom…and Sky.

  “And every Guy Ritchie film ever made. We can start with his first, or your favorite, or throw them up in the air and see which one lands closest to the TV.”

  “I like the second option.” She can’t be serious, but I can’t wait to see what she does.

  “Okay.” She pulls out two handfuls of movies and tosses them into the air—without pause or hesitation.

  I duck. “Ouch!” One hits me on the head. I probably should have known Sky well enough to see that coming.

  “That one hit the TV.” She leaps off the bed.

  “Okay, I guess we start there.”

  “RocknRolla.” She smiles, holding up the cover.

  “Perfect.” I watch her every movement—her smile, the way she easily crouches in front of the TV.

  “Is this okay?” She looks over her shoulder. “I mean…I realize I sort of burst in on you.”

  “I haven’t seen you in almost a week, Sky. This is perfect. Just you being here.” It hits me again—Sky and me—us. These touches of her uncertainty and vulnerability make me feel better. She seems invincible most of the time.

  “Good.” She slides the movie in.

  “There’s no way I can eat this burrito by myself. Want some?” It’s in a box inside her bag, making my room smell edible.

  “Picnic?” She looks over her shoulder.

  “I’ll be right back.” I run into the kitchen. The crazy part of me wonders if she’ll still be in my room when I get back.

  She is.

  We get through a monster burrito, RocknRolla and Snatch. It’s late and I’m seriously considering skipping school tomorrow. She’s on one side of my bed. I’m on the other. We each have a pillow and I’m wondering how I’ll ever be able to let her go home. It’s close to midnight, and we both keep yawning.

  “Are you okay?”

  She means about Dad leaving, but how do I even start to answer that question?

  “I don’t know what to do for Mom. She seems sort of out of it.”

  Sky smiles. “I didn’t ask about your mom.”

  We lay in silence. “I don’t know.” At least, I’m being honest.

  “You know, I don’t really know my dad.”

  I nod. That seems worse. Or maybe better, now that mine’s screwed us over so royally.

  “I always wondered why he didn’t take the time, you know?”

  “He just doesn’t understand what he’s missing.” I smile.

  She grins. “The same applies to you, Jameson. It’s not our fault when our parents do crazy things. They’re just people. We all make mistakes. We all have flaws.”

  “I guess.” But shouldn’t Mom and Dad be a step above that or something?

  “I’m sorry, it’s really late. I should go.” But she doesn’t move—at all.

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “Will your mom care?” Her voice is slow, hesitant.

  “No.” I don’t know if she will or not, bu
t right now—I don’t care.

  “I’ll stay a little longer, but you’re not allowed to touch me.” She points her finger at me in warning.

  “Why do you get to make the rules?” I scowl. But really I’m teasing, and we both know it.

  “Because if you made the rules there would be no rules, and we’d both be in too deep before we get to know each other.” She scoots closer until our noses are almost touching.

  “That makes no sense.”

  “We fit together too well, Jay.” Her breath is warm against my face. What will it feel like when she moves away?

  “That also, makes no sense.” How can you fit together too well?

  “What I mean is that we fit together, and when we touch I want to touch more, but everything will be better if we hold off and get to know one another first.” She reaches forward, and I immediately take her hand.

  “You’ve gotten all philosophical on me.”

  “I just want this to be good.” Her fingers squeeze mine.

  “What to be good?” I want her to say it.

  “Us.”

  Us. The word hits my chest. “Me, too.”

  She moves her face, just slightly. Just enough for me to decide it’s okay to kiss her again.

  This is now officially the best night of my life.

  TWELVE

  Monday: Attend student government meeting. Help Sky with math. Spend some time kissing by the pool. Mom’s nearly unresponsive, but she keeps promising me there’s nothing I can do.

  Tuesday: Wrestle through the school day. Resist girlish urge to write Sky’s name all over the margins of my notebook—I’m mostly successful. Get annoyed that Sarah barely speaks to me anymore. Go for a swim with Sky and beg her to change the rule about no kissing or touching in the pool. No success. Spend some time kissing next to the pool.

  Wednesday: High five Matt over finally asking Kaylee on a date—and her actually saying yes. Pick up Sky and meet her Nana and Papa during a very awkward conversation in their living room. Her Papa doesn’t speak. Spend some time kissing Sky on my bed, while pretending to watch…I don’t remember. Mom is still walking around like a zombie—swearing there’s nothing I can do.

  Thursday: Say good morning to Sarah. Get a dirty look from Eric. Listen to Sarah apologize. Not caring if his arm is around her, because I don’t even notice…most of the time. Go for a short walk with Sky and the pompom pretending to be a dog. Spend time kissing on my bed.

  Friday: Tap my pencil on my notebook all day waiting for the school week to come to an end. Sky meets me at my house at five o’clock. We spend most of the night on the Las Vegas strip, doing very little talking and lots of kissing. Wish we were in my bed.

  Saturday: Yeah…it’s gonna take more than a few words to sum this one up.

  “I’m all recovered from last night. So what’s the plan for tonight?” She’s smiling while standing on my front porch.

  “I…don’t know.” How do I tell her that all I want to do is roll around on my bed? I want to feel her close to me, her lips on mine. I mean, I love talking to her too…it’s just her body’s all I’ve been able to think about. I love how she feels next to me.

  “Okay.” She walks past me into my house.

  I step up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.

  “So, you did have plans?” She turns her head so I can see her profile.

  “I just wanted to stay in tonight.” Is that honest enough?

  “What for?” She turns to look at me, crossing her arms.

  Now, I’m not sure what to say. It’s all about being honest, right? “I’ve been thinking about you…all day…all week. Since we met, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to feel you close to me, that’s all.”

  She takes my hand and looks down at the floor. “Us being together—isn’t about getting to the next level, Jay. It’s about really being together.”

  I’m trying to figure out what the difference is.

  “Why don’t you do your thing tonight, and I’ll do mine and we’ll meet up again in a day or two.” Her voice is calm and relaxed, but her words cut into me.

  Find some breath to speak. “I…”

  “Would you like to walk me home?” She’s still standing, in her fluid way of being still, looking way too relaxed.

  I’m at a loss for words. This is her telling me that she doesn’t want to see me. “I guess…I…”

  She moves toward the door. “Spit it out, Jay.” But she smiles, so I guess we’re good…I think.

  “Why don’t you want to be around me? Did I do something wrong?” I’m confused as hell.

  “Not…wrong…” She opens the front door and steps through.

  “Then…” What? I take a few long strides to catch up.

  “Just take a day or two and think about the whole going further versus being together thing.” She looks at me briefly over her shoulder and continues walking.

  “Sky, wait.” I feel desperate, I can’t imagine spending my night without her.

  She takes my hand in hers. I guess this means we’re okay, but I’m not feeling okay. I’m feeling like she doesn’t want to be around me. I don’t know what to do. I try to sort out the difference between taking it to the next level versus being together…mostly I’m just confused. Now, we’re at her house. I haven’t said anything. I haven’t done anything.

  “Can I come in?” I ask.

  “Are you brave enough to come in?” She smiles at me, probably remembering our last meeting with Nana and Papa.

  “Yep.” I smile back.

  I follow her up the stairs into the living room of the split-level house. It’s quiet and dark. But the best part is…we’re alone. Alone can be such a beautiful word.

  “Wanna see where I actually live?”

  “Sure.” Her room? A piece of Sky…I smile to myself, knowing I’m a bit of a nerd for thinking this.

  We head to the basement. The ceiling is low and we pass through a collection of old wood paneling, random furniture, and stacks of boxes. I’ve never seen her room. How much time have we spent together and I’ve never seen where she lives…where she hangs out. I feel bad. Am I taking the time to get to know her the way I should?

  Then it hits me. I’m an idiot. “That’s what you meant.”

  “What?” She stops and faces me.

  “Time together…learning about one another…and not the way I think about most. The way that’s…um…actually important.” I feel kinda proud of myself.

  Her smile is wide. “Yeah…like that.” Her door opens and it feels like we’re entering another world.

  “I painted the walls.” She stops a few steps inside her room.

  The walls are deep brown, like the forest. Her window is small. The whole wall around the head of her bed is covered with small wooden carvings.

  I recognize the shape. “Totems?”

  “Yeah.” She nods, staring at the wall. “My brother made most of them.”

  “They’re amazing.” I step closer. The detail is incredible. Most are at least a foot tall and three inches wide. There are faces from top to bottom and nearly all have wings. The features are exaggerated, but I can pick out a few animals among the faces like a bear and a bird. “A raven?” I reach out to touch one painted black and white.

  “The raven is a mischievous one.” She smirks as she sees where I’m pointing. These are real to her—important.

  “Is it just decoration? Or is there some meaning?” I only glance at her briefly. Some are light wood, like driftwood, others are darker. Some are painted in bright colors like red and white while others are faded and worn. The collection is sort of staggering. I reach out and trace my finger across the face of one. The wood is smooth, expertly carved.

  “Wings are protectors. A lot of them were given to me as gifts of protection from my clan.” She looks at the wall with me. “But like I said, most are from my brother.”

  “What do you need to be protec
ted from?” I watch her closely now.

  Her gaze leaves the wall, just for a moment. Our eyes catch. “Dreams.”

  “You have trouble with dreams?”

  “A lot.” She nods.

  I sink. The weight settles in my chest…my stomach…my legs. I didn’t know this about her. I should have known this about her. “I’m sorry.”

  “It has to do with things that feel out of my control.” She sits down at the top of her bed pulling a small woven blanket onto her lap.

  “Can I sit?” Suddenly the detail on the wall doesn’t need the attention that the detail in her face does.

  “Of course.” She may be sitting, but it almost looks like she’s curled up in a ball, as if she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear.

  I sit on the foot of her huge bed and pull my feet up.

  “Your heritage is important to you.”

  “Yes.” Our eyes meet.

  “Why don’t you talk about it?” I ask.

  “You bring it up, things I’ve heard and remember from home, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it. It’s like you know the deeper me—Night Sky and flying and…but you’re still getting to know about me.” She doesn’t break our gaze, but leans back against the wall. “It’s why I like being around you, Jay.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Night Sky is just how I think of her. I didn’t know she picked up on it. I’m completely confused here—is this a good thing or a bad thing?

  “Don’t worry, we won’t get into that right now.” Something like a smile—only softer, smoother—crosses her lips.

  “Okay.” Now what? “You never told me about your trip home. Why did you come back early?”

  “Because I don’t feel safe there.” Her face turns to shadow. I can’t explain it, but there’s this mask of…pain…fear…something I can’t identify. But some sort of male protective gene or instinct kicks in and I’m immediately tense.

  “Why don’t you feel safe there?” I lean forward.

  “I don’t know if I want to tell you.” She’s looking at her lap.

  “What about honesty?” Am I going too far?

  She sighs. “I don’t want to scare you away, and I feel like anything I share with you at this point will scare you away.”