“You made it this far. Come on, it's not that much further.”
He grabs my hand and tries to pull me up but I'm rooted to the tree. I know when Bob gets like this it is better just to wait until the dizziness passes. If I try and fight it I'll only end up falling on my ass.
“Just give me a minute,” I say.
He stands there next to me, holding my hand. Just waiting like I asked him to. I have to give him credit. By now most people would have freaked out and called an ambulance or left me there under the pretense of getting help. But he just waits, the warmth from his hand traveling into mine and suddenly I feel better. I lift my head up and the trees are stationary once more.
“That's weird,” I say.
“Feel better?” he smiles.
“Yes.”
“Good. Come on then.”
He pulls me to my feet and keeps hold of my hand. If it was anyone else, I would have pulled my hand away by now but invisible strands connect us together. I feel them binding our hands like silver ribbons of light. I don't think I could pull my hand away even if I wanted to. But I don't.
"So do you always hang around in the woods late at night?" I ask as he pulls me along.
"I like it out here, it's peaceful."
I wonder if he means it's the only place he can get some peace and quiet because his home life is so horrible. I want to ask him but it seems rude considering that I hardly know him. Plus the woods are getting thicker now. We have to twist sideways to squeeze between some of the trees. I scratch my arm on a twig and it starts to bleed.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. It doesn't matter."
I want to know where we're going. Despite the cold and the dark, my heart is beating wildly and not because I'm scared. Finally Ethan stops and I bump into him.
"What is it?" I ask, suddenly afraid that we've come across a giant, sleeping alligator or something.
"We're here."
He steps aside and points triumphantly to a massive tree. It must be hundreds of years old, thousands even. Four people standing in a circle holding hands, still wouldn't reach all the way around its trunk. Branches snake out in every direction, reaching up to the midnight sky.
"Wow," I say.
"I told you it was cool. But come on, there's more."
He drags me closer, my head still tilted back as I strain to see the top of the tree. Letting go of my hand, he jumps up to grab something hanging around one of the lower branches. A rope ladder uncurls and falls to the ground.
"You're not expecting me to climb up that thing, are you?"
"Yes," he says, smiling.
I want to tell him no. That there is no way I'm climbing up that flimsy piece of rope but considering I've already been down a drainpipe twice today, I don't really have much of an excuse.
"Well, what's up there?"
I have to admit I'm curious and part of me does want to climb into the giant tree. But the other part of me also doesn't want Ethan staring at my ass the whole way up.
"You’ll see. Come on."
"After you," I say.
"Chicken."
He grabs hold of the ladder and climbs it like he's done it a million times before. I step onto the first rung, testing to see how well it will hold my weight. It sags but seems firm, the rope coarse between my fingers. I imagine that I'm climbing the hull of a great ship to take one last fated voyage. Or up into the endless sky where the stars twinkle high above us, obscured by the huge tree we are now climbing into. Like a beast that has opened its mouth wide, it swallows us whole with one silent gulp as we leave the woods beneath us. Hidden in the belly of the tree, the rope ladder propels us up.
"How much further?" I shout out to Ethan, my voice echoing around the leafy chamber.
"Not much," he says.
But it must have been a lie. We climb until I think we might pop out of the top of the tree like a champagne cork. My hands burn against the rope, bleeding in places. Ethan should have brought gloves. He would have known how hard it is to climb a rope ladder. As I climb, I hear noises in the tree. Birds shuffling in their nests, calling gently to one another. Disturbed squirrels race across the giant limbs, eyeing us warily.
"I don't think I can climb anymore," I say breathlessly. Bob isn't exactly a fan of exercise. It usually ends in a skull splitting migraine.
"Made it," Ethan shouts triumphantly from above. "Come on, it's not that much further."
I want to yell at him. Tell him that this is the worst first date I've ever been on but above my head are planks of wood, nailed together to form a floor. Curiosity fuels me on and I reach Ethan, winded and breathless.
"What is this place?"
"You'll see."
He grabs my hand and pulls me onto a wooden ledge, a porch that surrounds an actual tree house. The rough planks that make up the floor also stretch up to form four walls and a sloping roof covered in bright green moss. There is a tiny window and a door that Ethan swings open with a smile.
"Welcome to my home away from home," he says.
Stepping inside, I feel like I've slipped into another world. Rainbow colored cushions litter the floor, there is a table and a small chair in the corner and a cooler with the lid propped open full of drinks and snacks.
"You built this place?" I whisper.
"No. I'd like to take the credit but it was here long before I found it. Pretty cool though, huh?"
"It's the most amazing place I've ever seen."
"I knew you'd like it," he grins. "And look."
He takes my hand and tugs me down to the floor. We tumble onto the soft cushions and he points up to the ceiling. I've never seen anything like it in my whole life. Hundreds of tiny paper cranes hang from the rafters, the gentle breeze moving between them so that they look poised to take flight at any moment. They make fluttering sounds as they spin and twirl. Real birds trapped in a paper skeleton.
"Who made them?" I ask.
"I don't know. They were here when I found the place."
"There must be hundreds of them, thousands even."
“I bet there are a thousand,” he says. “It's some kind of legend. If you make a thousand paper cranes then your wish will come true.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he squeezes my hand tightly.
I wonder if I have enough time to make a thousand paper cranes. Probably not. We left my last doctor’s appointment knowing I was living on borrowed time. Every day since then has been a gift. One I've tried not to throw away but brain tumors are notoriously unpredictable. Bob could decide to end my life right here and now or I could have months, trapped in a deteriorating body.
“What would you wish for?” he asks.
I know I should say that life is my wish. That Bob would disappear as though he was never here in the first place. But all I can think about is the one thing I've wanted ever since I found out I was going to die. I don't want to die a virgin and here and now, lying beneath paper cranes with Ethan, all I want is for him to make love to me.
“It's okay,” he says. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
I lean on one elbow, my body gently touching his. If I tell him, will he think I'm stupid? Run away? Or even worse, laugh at me?
“What would you wish for?” I ask.
He looks serious, like he's not sure if he should tell me or not. Then he leans in close and kisses me. His lips soft against mine, our breath mingling as we taste each other for the first time.
“I'd wish for you,” he whispers as he pulls away.
I know I should say that I wished for him too but the truth is I just want sex. I don't have time to fall in love and what good would it do anyway? To love someone and then leave them. I've seen what it's done to my Mom and I couldn't do that to someone else. I don't want Ethan to love me, I just want him to want me.
“Kiss me again,” I say softly.
He does, leaning over me with the fluttering cranes above us. I close my eyes and push my hands
up under his shirt, feeling the scars and muscles I know so well. His hands do the same, exploring my flesh. I tug his shirt off, pulling his hands back to me as I struggle with my sweater. He fumbles with my bra. It's sweet and awkward but I'm not naive enough to believe this is his first time.
“You're sure this won't kill you?” he pulls away, looking wary.
“Of course not,” I say.
But what do I know? I could drop dead at any moment. Wandering into the dark woods or climbing up that stupid rope ladder could have easily done me in. Though I can see how it would give him pause, would probably ruin his sex drive for life if I croaked beneath him.
“You're sure?”
He doesn't look convinced. Is probably weighing up the pros and cons of having sex with the brain tumor girl and wondering why he never thought of the consequences before. Consequences that are so much worse than the threat of pregnancy and a venereal disease.
“Should I put my clothes back on?” I say, shivering in the cool night air.
“No,” he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. “Not unless you want to.”
“I don't,” I say, kissing him harder.
We fumble with our jeans. Despite the magical tree house and the soft throw cushions, the whole experience is turning out to be so much less than I thought it would. I'm not sure what I expected but somehow it wasn't this.
He is kneeling in front of me, rolling a condom onto his penis. It's not romantic at all. I lean back and obligingly spread my legs, mesmerized by the cranes above. As he leans over me and then pushes inside, I bite my bottom lip to take my mind off the pain. I'm tight and I have no idea if he's big or not, since I have no frame of reference. But he makes his way in until he fills me. The cranes twist and twirl from their tethers as Ethan pauses.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say quietly.
So he starts. Rocking into me over and over again. First slow. Then faster. The cranes spiral and then start to take flight. Colored wings flapping as they break away from their tethers and fly free. Inside me the pain gives way to a tingling that spreads across my skin like fire but before anything more can happen, Ethan gives a final thrust and comes inside me.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers, his head buried in my neck.
“For what?” I say.
“You didn't, you know, did you?”
I want to push him off, to get him out of me but somehow that seems rude. I got what I wanted. Now I won't die a virgin. What more did I expect? Fireworks? An explosive orgasm? Real life isn't like that. Finally he pulls out, his penis limp and lifeless.
“Do you want to try again in a little while?” he asks, looking hopeful.
“No thanks.”
I pull my clothes on sadly. This was a mistake. A huge, giant mistake. I should have wished for love or life. The cranes could have given me anything. Just because I didn't make them, doesn't mean the magic isn't still there. I look up at them, begging silently for a second chance.
Ethan is dressed and hovering in the doorway like a rabbit that's about to bolt.
“We should probably get going then,” he says.
I lean back on the cushions, looking up at the ceiling.
“I think I'm going to stay.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I feel like it.”
“You're okay though, right? I didn't hurt you did I?”
It still burns where he pushed himself inside me but I don't tell him that.
“No,” I say. “I'm fine.”
“I'll stay,” he says again.
“No, really. Go.”
And he does. I think maybe the real consequences of sleeping with the dying girl have suddenly caught up with him. The fact that the moment should have been special and despite everything, somehow wasn't. How this will be the last intimate moment I have and when everyone at school is obliged to go to my funeral, he'll stand there knowing he was once inside me. It doesn't matter that I didn't die beneath him because a part of me is dead already and that's the part he made love to. The detached part who calls her brain tumor Bob and doesn't care that she's going to die.
I lean over the edge and watch him climb down the rope ladder, disappearing into darkness and leaves. When the rope finally goes slack, I know he's reached the bottom. I wait a while and then pull the ladder up, hand over hand until it's a pile in front of me.
Thirsty, I rifle through the cooler and find sodas, chips and cookies. I could stay up here for as long as I want. I could stay up here forever. Eventually maybe even die up here under the birds. I lay back and sip my coke, smile as the real me takes over from the dead one. I open my mouth and scream as loud as I can, voice echoing through the cavernous tree, sending birds squawking out of their nests. I'll lie here in this magical cocoon and I'll ask the paper birds to save me, and if they don't? Then I'll join them. A paper skeleton rustling in the breeze, her magic hidden from the world for all eternity. And as I lay still, the birds come to life once more, fluttering around the tiny room and landing on my body. They tickle my skin, cock their paper heads and stare at me quizzically. They know as well as I do that it will soon be time and right now, there's no place I'd rather be.
THE END
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Beneath Paper Cranes (a coming of age short story) Page 2