Bright Lights, Dark Nights

by Stephen Emond

  “I doubt that,” I said. “But you could probably get really famous if you did.”

  Our waiter brought out our dinner, and the monkfish wasn’t the best thing I’d ever had. Not terrible, but it was no cheeseburger. Naomi, however, fixed herself a small dish of wasabi and soy sauce and dove into her monster roll.

  “Don’t like it?” Naomi said, reading my face. “You’re eating the Godzilla of the sea. You’d think it would be the most delicious.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. Naomi pushed her miso soup over to me.

  “Try that,” she said. “Okay. Naomi confession: I’ve had sushi before. Like, a lot. I kind of love sushi. My family gets it every Sunday. I guess I’m not that adventurous.” She slapped her palm to her face.

  “You’re such a cute little habitual liar,” I said, and finished off her miso soup.

  “Tell that to Uncle Dave,” Naomi said, and snuck a piece of monkfish off my plate.

  *

  The sun was fully down by the time we were street level again. Naomi rubbed her arms to warm up. Just an hour or two earlier I wasn’t sure we’d need coats. I rubbed her back with my hand for a second, sure she’d feel like she was by the fireplace.

  “So you still can’t tell me about this spot?” I asked. “Are you going to kill me? That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a murder dungeon.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t tell you yet,” Naomi said. “You’ll have to be surprised. It’s a surprise murder.”

  Naomi took me up the street to a department store where a lady was selling flowers, specifically to young couples. I shrugged. Lady, I blew all my money on dinner. Leave us alone. We went inside and browsed casually for a bit, and then Naomi pulled me through a door in the back.

  “You have to sneak up. It doesn’t work if anyone knows you’re here,” Naomi said as we went up a bunch of flights of stairs. “This is where my sister used to work, by the way.”

  “You are a wild child,” I said, following her up the spirals of stairs and rapidly losing my breath. We finally got to the top and exited a door and emerged on the rooftop.

  “So this is where my sis would take me.” Naomi twirled. The city lights reached up from the streets and alleys, but up here, the moonlight fought them off. “It looks like a regular old building roof, right? But it’s not. It’s the highest building in the city. This is my spot. You can’t help but dream up here. I’m going to take my baby sis up here when she’s older so she can dream, too. You can see the whole world from up here.”

  I could only see Naomi.

  “I kind of am a habitual liar,” Naomi said. She looked away from me, down at the ground, and sank her hands into her coat pockets. “I should probably go ahead and tell you this, too. I snuck out to see you tonight. My parents think I’m at Mae’s house. She’s covering for me. I snuck out the other night, too, when we went to your mom’s house.”

  “You didn’t want to tell them?” I asked. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

  “Not if they don’t find out,” Naomi said. “I didn’t want to give them a chance to say no. I wanted to see you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I said. “Thanks for hanging out with me today. And coming to dinner. And thanks to your sister for the advice the other night. The millions of colors. I needed to hear that.”

  “I think everyone does,” Naomi said. “I did, too.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “I feel really good, like, not just right now, but all the time. Because of you.”

  We stood near the edge of the rooftop and looked out over the city. She wasn’t kidding, the city was even more enormous than it had looked from the fire escape at the Halloween party. It looked like it went on forever. I couldn’t imagine what a real city like Manhattan would look like from its tallest building. The buildings shrouded us off from the rest of the world most of the time but you could climb them still and see everything out there, all the world had to offer. We had a comfortable silence, which hadn’t happened often. The wind was blowing the few strands of Naomi’s hair that weren’t pulled back.

  “I think about you a lot,” I said. “Like all the time. Is that weird?”

  “You do?” Naomi asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said. I surprised myself by saying that aloud and wasn’t sure how to follow it up. I made an effort to turn off my brain. “You’re just so cool.”

  “I promise you I’m not,” Naomi said, and laughed. Not defensive, just self-deprecating. “I promise you I’m the uncool one. You’re much cooler than me. You’ve got that hair curl and everything.”

  “But saying that makes you the cool one,” I said. “I think the less cool, the better anyway.”

  “Yeah, I like dorky,” Naomi said. I couldn’t have dreamed up someone like Naomi Mills. Every clichéd feeling, she gave me.

  “I’m dorky,” I said. “Dorky like a fox.”

  “See, there’s that wit again,” Naomi said. “You are really smart, aren’t you? C student, my ass. You think fast, you keep up with me, you say the craziest stuff. That’s smart. It’s kinda hot.”

  Naomi laughed, but she didn’t say what she usually says; she didn’t say I say stupid things.

  I leaned over to kiss her. I still worried she’d pull away, that this whole bond we had going on was actually one-sided, but she didn’t. It could have been a second or a minute—time was working some weird magic. I’d climbed the tallest building and my inner cynic plunged to the pavement, ripe for tomorrow’s paper.

  We held the kiss. I moved my hand to her neck; her earring rested on my thumb. Naomi’s lips pulled away from mine. I felt the breeze, heard the cars again, like I was landing back on earth.

  “This is the dumbest thing. I’m so nervous,” I said. “Are we like…? Do you want to go out? Do you want to be my girlfriend? I don’t know how you’re supposed to word this kind of thing. Will you go steady with me? Will you be my main squeeze?”

  Naomi smiled. She laughed. She nodded. “Walter,” she said. She kissed me back.

  *

  I got home before ten. Dad was in bed already, which I took to be a not-great sign. Then I was lying in bed with the news on, and everything changed.

  A clip was playing of the burglar Dad had caught and his parents from earlier in the day. The Channel 3 news guy was in his face with a microphone.

  “I’m talking with Calvin Temple,” he said. “Calvin, the judge released you today, and there seems to be some confusion. Was there a confession?”

  “No, man, no confession,” Calvin said. “Just a racist cop, that’s all. I didn’t even do anything. This guy pulled me over. I didn’t even do anything, and then they have me going to jail, interrogating me. I’m in court, and I didn’t even do anything! No confession. Just a racist cop.”

  They dropped all the charges after the investigation and let him off, but his family was pushing for more. They wanted my dad fired.

  “This was not an incident,” his mother said on the courthouse steps in the same video. “This is a pattern. We know it, they know it, the records show it. It needs to stop.”

  That was a blanket statement on the entire police department. It painted them like a bunch of harassing racists. That wasn’t my dad, that wasn’t Ricky, or my uncle Joe, he was a cop, too. I opened my laptop and started searching the news sites. The story was a leading article on our local news page. CHARGES DROPPED AGAINST ACCUSED TEEN INTRUDER was the headline. I saw Naomi online, so I sent her a message.

  11/08 10:20 WalterW1014: Have you seen the news?

  11/08 10:20 NMillz:? No, whats up?

  11/08 10:21 WalterW1014: There’s kind of a mess that my dad’s involved in. It’s not good.

  11/08 10:21 NMillz: Omg, what is it? Are u okay?

  11/08 10:21 WalterW1014: Can we talk on the phone?

  My phone rang a second later. “Hey,” I said. “This is a mess. I feel sick right now.”

  I did feel sick, I wanted to throw up. This was bad enough for my dad, but it was going to affec
t me, too. And probably Naomi. This wasn’t about some burglar getting caught anymore.

  “What is it?” Naomi asked.

  “So remember how I told you my dad caught that kid who was breaking into homes and everything—that was all great. My dad was a hero down at the precinct. But the kid changed his story—like, completely. Not only is he taking his confession away, but they’re accusing my dad and the whole police force of all this stuff—like, sick stuff.” I paused. “Race stuff. I’m not even sure what’s going on. I mean he’s not—”

  “Oh my god,” Naomi said.

  “I don’t even know what happens next,” I said. “This could be really bad. Listen, I know what we said tonight, but honestly, if you want out, I don’t blame you at all. This can be really messy, and I don’t want you to be a part of it if you think—”

  “If I think what?” Naomi asked. “Why would I want out?”

  “Because,” I said. The rest of the sentence got stuck in my throat.

  “Because I’m black?” Naomi asked.

  “I’m just saying you don’t have to deal with this if you don’t want to,” I said. “Of course I don’t want anything to change.”

  “Walter, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Naomi asked. “I agree this is awful, and I hope your dad clears his name, but that’s his thing, okay? We’re fine. Don’t waste any energy on that. I just hope your dad’s okay.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Me too.”

  We sat in silence for a moment before Naomi spoke again. “You’re gonna get through this.”

  Chapter Eight

  The hallways were claustrophobic on Wednesday afternoon. One of the football players gave me a nod and a “’sup,” and I didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. Maybe he was nodding to Nate, who was right beside me—he knows more people than I do. But he was looking at me—I was sure of it.

  This had been happening the past few days. I could have sworn everyone was staring at me in the halls. I was more inclined to watch my feet than make eye contact on the average day, so this could have been normal. Maybe people just looked at you when you passed them in the halls. It was either that or they knew.

  I wasn’t aware if everyone at school knew that my dad was a police officer. Maybe they did. Maybe they saw the news. Word could be spreading and I wasn’t just being looked at but talked about. Maybe I was being paranoid. But maybe not. It was like when Daredevil lost his vision but could suddenly hear every little thing. But if my newfound supersense was an awareness of everyone staring at me and whispering, it was a terrible power to have.

  “Walter, you there? I’ve got another one,” Nate said, walking far too casually for my taste. “Another joy of being single. Kate and I would take my truck to school every morning, and I had to get to her place by six thirty so we could have breakfast together. Do you know how early I had to get up for that? Now I skip first period if I feel like it.”

  Nate and I hadn’t discussed Naomi since the first time I kissed her. He would be the easiest person to tell. He didn’t know Jason or anyone connected to Naomi. I had to run it by her first, though. We still hadn’t told anyone what was going on with us, and I didn’t want to be the first one to do it. For all I knew, any wrong action at this point could put me right back to where I was a month ago. Alone, trying to memorize all the lyrics to Tupac’s “Me Against the World.”

  “I could even skip class right now,” Nate said, proud of this thought, convincing himself his single life was truly that good. “What say you, Walter? Care to skip eighth period with me and check out the furniture store for soft new chairs?”

  “Are you looking for a new chair?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Nate beamed.

  “You know I don’t skip class,” I said. “Besides, I’ve got a test to take.” My actual plan did involve skipping, but it was a first for me, so that wasn’t a full lie. Naomi and I were going to meet outside on the steps, so I had to ditch Nate, who had become somewhat clingy since he and Kate decided to spend more time apart.

  “You sure, man? You seem like you could use some downtime,” Nate said, branching away. Guess I was wearing my anxiety on the outside. “Hey, good luck on your test.”

  I needed Naomi like I needed a handful of Advil and a glass of water.

  *

  We’d tried to find time to be together during the school day, but it wasn’t enough. After school was a possibility, before school was less tantalizing. We were, as weird as it was to say, a new couple. There was no map for us, really. We had no idea where this was headed or what it should be or feel like. Neither of us had ever dated anyone else before. It could be argued that it was a bad idea, that we’d do it all wrong. We saw the other couples, clinging to each other’s sides, kissing, but that didn’t feel right. Yet, anyway. That was what we needed time to figure out.

  I could jump in the air and kick my feet together. Naomi was just feet away and some time alone was well-earned after dodging so much to make it happen.

  I was on the third floor, passing a stretch of lockers and heading toward the stairs outside. The sun was beaming through the door windows and pulling me toward it, and outside, alone apart from a few freshmen on their way downstairs, was Naomi. Bathed in sun and the blue of the sky.

  I opened the door with thoughts of hand-holding and eyes and lips.

  “Bro, Walter,” Jason said, way too in-my-face, way too from-out-of-nowhere. He must have been right on the other side of the door. I quickly adjusted my attention to him. “You going to Shadows later? I’ve got a backlist now. It’s been weeks.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll bring my book bag so we can carry it all.” Stupid Wednesday routines. I had no excuse planned. It was potentially good, though. Things had felt off, but I was the one with the secret. It’d be a good chance to feel things out. Eventually he was going to find out about Naomi, and it would be better if things were good and normal between us first.

  “Bye,” Naomi said to us, or maybe to Jason, or maybe secretly to just me, and jetted down the stairs.

  “Oh, I gotta go, too,” Jason said, looking at his watch. “I’m late. If I’m not at Shadows, come break me out of Colfer’s office. I’m probably in detention.”

  “I’ll bring a saw in a birthday cake,” I said. Nervous laughter. I was bad at this. My best bet was to get a few comics and get out of there fast after school.

  The bell rang and rather than run to class, I went down the stairs to see if I could find Naomi, to see if she’d waited for me or if the plan was off. Maybe I could still go to that furniture store with Nate. I reached the bottom of the stairs and a pair of hands grabbed my arm and yanked me under the steps in a dark, shaded, secluded spot. We kissed.

  “That was weird, huh?” I asked, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

  “Yeah, it was. I never lie to Jason,” Naomi said, looking at her gloved hands as they picked up my bare hands. “Of course, I never skip class, either.”

  “Never?” I asked. I rubbed her glove fingers and gave her hands a squeeze. “Me neither. Do you want to skip skipping? I mean, we’re late already. So we may as well. What do you want to do?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Naomi said. “Go for a walk or something.”

  We started heading west from the school, toward the bridge that gives East Bridge its name. It was just a few blocks away. It didn’t feel like we were doing anything wrong, cutting class and leaving school. Naomi and I shared a bubble in which regular actions, thoughts, laws, and principles did not apply. Not that anyone else would agree.

  “We’re two bad seeds,” Naomi said.

  “Absolutely rotten,” I said. “You’re a wild child. We’ve established that.” Two bad-seed, wild children carrying their guilt as they skipped a class for the first time. The sun was bright and inviting, leading us away from the school, promising this was the correct path to take. The roads were loud with construction; East Bridge was in a constant state of rebuilding, or possibly debuilding, as it only seeme
d to get messier and louder.

  “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” I asked Naomi, and pulled her body closer to mine.

  “Is murder off the table?” Naomi asked. “Other than the murders, let’s see,” Naomi said, lifting her face and looking upward. “Okay, well, I told you I used to hang out with my older sister on top of the store, right? Well sometimes she’d drink alcohol up there, and she’d share it with me.”

  “That’s your bad story?”

  “I was, like, ten years old!” Naomi exclaimed. “Up there getting wasted, saying swearwords. I’m a bad kid.”

  “Did you like it?” I asked.

  “No!” Naomi said. “I didn’t like it at all, but I thought I was being cool. That stuff tasted gross. Okay, your turn. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  “I branded my mom with a scarlet A and bolted from dinner,” I said, and laughed. “That was kinda bad. This one’s dark and you’re going to like me less afterward, but this is real. This is a deep regret. I hit my sister once.”

  “No!” Naomi exclaimed. “You’re a woman beater? Mellie’s so nice, too…”

  “I’m not a—no. Here’s the story,” I started. “We had a dog named Murph. And Murph would get away sometimes, and we’d spend all day chasing him around the neighborhood. He’d run away and we’d get close and he’d run again—it was a game. To him. So one day, the sun had gone down, we’re missing dinner, we’ve been out there for hours already, we don’t even know where he is anymore. I’m about that age, around ten, I’m cranky, Mel’s cranky, I’m whining, she’s telling me to shut up. We get into this huge fight, and Murph had this chain leash Mel was holding that she balled up and struck me right in the face with, and I hit her back. We’re both crying, Murph can tell we’re upset, comes running up to us. We all go home.”