In Your Room

by Jordanna Fraiberg

  Molly was so happy to hear from Rina. She was a reminder that she wasn’t so alone, that there were people out there who understood her, even if they were thousands of miles away.

  She got up and threw off her robe. Rina would be mortified if she stayed in all day and moped. As she was getting dressed, she noticed her bulging suitcase at the back of the room. She walked over and opened it up, revealing the pile of Charlie’s clothes she had dumped there almost three weeks before. She reached in and pulled out something yellow peeking out from underneath the pile. It was an old T-shirt with COLORADO written across the front in faded navy blue letters. She held it up to her nose and breathed in, wondering if that was what Charlie smelled like.

  She slipped it on over her tank top, gathered her things, and set out on her ride.

  Molly followed the directions a few miles down Boulder Canyon Boulevard and then made a few quick rights until she was at the entrance to the Betasso Canyon loop. She had already ridden much longer than she anticipated just getting there. She contemplated turning around, but she wasn’t tired, and all that was waiting for her was an empty house. A few riders had just set out ahead of her, so if anything went wrong, she at least wouldn’t be stranded alone.

  After experimenting with the gears, she settled into a slow, comfortable rhythm and relaxed enough to look up from the ground. She had been so focused on avoiding overturned rocks that she hadn’t noticed that the trail had leveled out into a meadow of grass on either side of her.

  She suddenly remembered the song Charlie had sent and took out her iPod and pressed play. The rhythmic beat of The Arcade Fire’s “No Cars Go” built in intensity as she stared out at the narrow path that gradually ascended as far as she could see.

  Okay, this isn’t so bad, she thought, clipping her feet back into the pedals. I can do this.

  She cycled across the field until it narrowed and hugged the side of the mountain, then widened again, taking her through various pockets of dense forest.

  The farther she went, the more she could feel every muscle in her body tighten and snap. She had no idea where her energy was coming from. As much as her brain kept telling her to turn around, her heart compelled her forward. With each steep turn and difficult ascent, she pretended Charlie was right behind her, encouraging her, urging her to prove what she was really made of.

  When the song ended, she hit repeat and played it over until the trail looped back to where she’d begun.

  Molly rode back home with the song still playing. As soon as she got to the house she ran upstairs and pulled her notebook out of her laptop bag. She had shoved it in with the internship folder at the last second. She plugged her iPod into the stereo. With no one home she could play it as loud as she wanted. She listened to Charlie’s song again and started to draw.

  From: Molly

  To: Charlie

  Date: July 4, 3:33 P.M. MST

  Subject: No Cars Go

  * * *

  C,

  I did it! Surprised? What can I say—I’m so glad you convinced me. It was the most amazing experience ever. Smart move too, not telling me how far away it was. If I’d known, not to mention how narrow that trail gets (especially when it goes around the side of the mountain), I’m sure I would have chickened out. But once you’re there, you have no choice but to just go in one direction, and I was just doing it!!! I couldn’t believe it was me! I felt like I was so far away from…EVERYTHING…lost in the middle of nature.

  I was so excited I practically flew all the way back. It must have only taken like fifteen minutes compared to what felt like an hour getting there.

  Have I mentioned how much I LOVED the song? I only listened to it a million times. I played it on the stereo when I got back. I was so inspired I just started sketching. I literally just stopped and here I am, e-mailing you.

  THANK YOU for the best Fourth of July ever!! I wish I could return the favor. The best I can do is direct you to the nearest fireworks. They have an awesome show at the snobby golf club a few blocks away on Beverly. My mom and I walk over every year after dinner. You get the best view if you stand outside the gates on the sidewalk. This is one event that they can’t make “members only.” Tons of people do it, so get there early for a good spot. When the fireworks erupt, you feel so close you expect them to rain back down on you.

  M

  P.S. I really don’t know how to thank you. It was a relief to feel like myself again.

  Charlie read Molly’s e-mail again. For a supposedly private person, she was refreshingly open and honest. He could practically feel her energy bouncing off the screen. It was a sensation he knew well and often experienced after riding the Boulder trails. The ability to let go like that, he believed, to really give yourself over to the ride, had nothing to do with being a good athlete. It was all about the capacity to focus, to know how to shut out the rest of the world except for your immediate surroundings. Somehow, he knew Molly could do that.

  He thought back to his first night and how everything in the room had blended together in an indistinguishable wash of pastels. All he could think about then was how he didn’t want to be there. Now it was the only place he wanted to be.

  He stood in front of the corkboard and scanned it for pictures of Molly. He thought he’d spotted them all, but every now and then a new one seemed to appear. This time a Polaroid of her asleep on a beach next to Celeste revealed itself. Initially only her black hair was visible, like she had deliberately covered it with another picture so that she’d be obscured.

  She was even more mysterious with her eyes closed, like she was aware of something that no one else could see.

  It made him want to get closer, to be able to touch her.

  He examined the series of sketches taped to the wall behind the sewing machine. Now that he was paying close attention, he realized that they were all drawings of the same dress but at different stages. They looked like they’d been drawn by the confident hand of someone who’d done it thousands of time before.

  Charlie opened the closet and ran his hand along the row of dresses, neatly arranged by color, hanging from the rack. Which ones had Molly made? He pulled out a bright green silk dress that wrapped around the middle with a bow. He took it off the rack and held it out into the light, comparing it to the sketches, discovering that it was the same dress. Just to make sure, he looked at the collar and read the tag. It read MOLLY HILL.

  “What are you doing?”

  Charlie turned around and saw Mia standing there waiting for an answer. He was still holding the green dress. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “Charlie’s trying on a dress!” she hollered at the top of her lungs, and raced out before Charlie could catch her.

  “Great,” he yelled back. “Announce it to the neighborhood.”

  • • •

  They heard the fireworks from the house and could see them the second they turned onto Beverly. Charlie had told his moms about them, and they decided it would be a fun family outing. The girls ran ahead in excitement while Charlie walked along with Sally and Lisa.

  “I’m so glad you suggested this,” Sally said.

  “Me too.” They walked along in companionable silence. It had been a while since he had been alone with them.

  “We hardly see you,” Sally added, tousling his hair. “I hope that means you’ve been having a good time.”

  “It’s been okay, actually,” Charlie admitted.

  “It looks like you and Celeste have been getting along,” Lisa observed. This was her not-so-subtle way of probing for information.

  “There’s nothing going on, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I wasn’t implying anything,” she said, smirking.

  “That’s right, she wasn’t.” Sally threw a warning glance Lisa’s way.

  If Lisa had it her way, he would tell her everything, especially about his love life. He often did, but this time he didn’t know how to explain that the main thing holding him back from Ce
leste was Molly. How could his mother understand something like that when it barely made sense to him?

  • • •

  They caught up to Heather and Mia at the corner directly across from the club, where a handful of other families had set up chairs and coolers. All you could see was the high brick wall until the fireworks shot up hundreds of feet into the air.

  Farther down the sidewalk Charlie noticed Celeste sitting on the curb. She didn’t turn to talk to anyone and stared up at the exploding sky. His first instinct was to quickly look the other way, to avoid any further questions from Lisa, but when he glanced back, he noticed that she was alone. She seemed different when she thought no one was looking, not so guarded or haughty. If anything, she seemed lonely.

  “I’ll be right back.” He pushed through the thickening crowd. “Hey! Celeste!”

  “Oh, hi,” she said, flustered. “I’m meeting some people, but I must have lost them,” she explained, standing up. “Pretty lame display, huh?”

  The sky erupted into a flash of purple, green, and orange. There was nothing lame about it. “I think it’s kind of beautiful,” he said.

  She turned and stared at Charlie. “Let’s crash the party at the golf club,” she finally said.

  He looked back toward his parents and sisters in the crowd, then at Celeste. The easy thing, the obvious thing, would be to go with her. “They’re expecting me,” he finally said, pointing out his family. “Come join us?”

  “Pass,” she said, walking away in the other direction. “I have to find my friends anyway.”

  12

  Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That’s relativity.

  —Albert Einstein

  “I was right.”

  “About what?” Molly asked, coming over to the desk where Penelope was sorting through the mail.

  “That you needed a day off.” She peered at Molly over her reading glasses. “It’s like you’re a different person.”

  “People don’t change in a day,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “That all depends, honey. What’s his name?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Molly turned around and busied herself hanging some clothes. She knew her expression would be a dead giveaway.

  “You don’t have to tell me, but you have five hours left in your shift. Think you can hide that grin all day?”

  It was a losing battle. Penelope was right and she couldn’t hide it. She turned around and sat down next to her. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only in a good way.”

  “The thing is, it’s complicated,” Molly began.

  “How so?”

  “Well, for starters, we’ve never met and probably never will.”

  “All right, honey,” Penelope said, putting the mail aside and removing her glasses. “Now I’m confused.”

  Molly explained the whole situation, how she was staying in Charlie’s room and he was in hers, how they’d been writing more and more, and how Molly had never felt that close to anyone before.

  “That’s possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Penelope said when Molly was done.

  “You really think so?” It was a relief to get it all off her chest and to be able to talk about it with someone right in front of her.

  “Who writes letters anymore? I’m telling you, it’s the best way to fall in love.”

  “They’re not exactly letters,” Molly corrected her.

  “Close enough,” Penelope said.

  “He knows you, actually,” Molly confessed.

  “Well, honey, who is he?”

  “Charlie Richards. He told me he shops here sometimes.”

  “You’re staying at the Richardses’? Why didn’t I know this before? They are the most wonderful family, especially that Charlie. Now I understand why you’re grinning.”

  Molly felt a sense of relief that she had been right to trust her instincts instead of the words of a jilted ex-girlfriend. Penelope had been living in Boulder so long, Molly figured she was one of the people who’d read about the Richardses in the newspaper before Charlie was born. But that wasn’t what Penelope meant. She was referring to the fact that Charlie was a good person. And that he was hot. Hot enough to break the hearts of beautiful girls like Sylvia. “It’s kind of pointless. I mean, he can have any girl he wants.”

  “But he’s writing to you. And I’m not surprised. I can see how you two would get along. Maybe it’s his family situation, but that boy has a sensitivity I’ve rarely seen. He has an old soul, just like you.”

  Without realizing it, Molly had inched her chair closer so that she and Penelope were practically touching. It was reassuring hearing about Charlie from someone who knew him. It made her feel less insecure about trusting him, a total stranger.

  “What’s this?” Penelope lifted Molly’s sketchbook from beneath the pile of mail.

  Molly had been drawing when Penelope went on her morning coffee run and mistakenly left it there. “It’s nothing,” she said, slipping the book into her purse.

  “I see. Just more of your doodling, right?”

  Molly didn’t know that Penelope had seen her drawings, but before she could answer, the front door jingled. It was Laura.

  “Mom? Hi,” she said on her way to greet her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Molls. I hope I’m not bothering you, but we were in town and wanted to see if we could take you for lunch. Ron’s just looking for parking.”

  Molly looked back to Penelope.

  “Go on. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t know what she’d talk about with Ron during a whole meal, but she needed to eat.

  “Molly, you’ve already done enough to last me several months. Go enjoy yourself.”

  “I love the new display, Molls,” Laura said, taking in the mannequins now dressed in completely different outfits. “When did you change it?”

  “Last week.” Now that she was more familiar with the inventory, she had several outfits prepared for window rotation every week. This was already her third display.

  “You have quite a daughter,” Penelope said. “Her smart thinking has brought in so much more business. Customers think we’re constantly getting new merchandise—and selling out of it. It’s been a revolving door around here ever since Molly arrived.”

  Molly blushed and adjusted the belt on one of the mannequins. “That’s a slight exaggeration,” she said.

  “A surefire way to make Molly work harder is to give her a compliment,” Laura joked. “She’s like her dad that way.”

  Molly winced. She’d said it so casually, like he wasn’t dead, like he was the one out there looking for a parking spot. “My real dad,” Molly clarified.

  A silence fell over the room, and she immediately regretted saying it, even before she noticed her mother’s eye twitch the way it always did when her feelings were hurt. She was about to say something, to try and take it back, when the door jingled again.

  “Sorry it took so long,” Ron announced, entering the store. “Hi, you must be Penelope,” he said, walking over to shake her hand. “I’m Ron.”

  • • •

  Molly followed a few paces behind as they made their way down the Pearl Street Mall. Strangers passing by thought they were just a regular family enjoying a beautiful day like everyone else.

  “Where should we go?” Ron asked, slowing down so Molly could catch up. “I haven’t been here in years, so you’re the expert.”

  “There’s a good Italian place just down there,” Molly said, pointing to a green awning over a cluster of tables on the sidewalk. She had been there once before. The food was okay, but the key was that it came quickly.

  “That sounds perfe
ct,” Laura said, pulling Molly closer so she could walk between them the rest of the way.

  When they got there, the host sat them inside, but Ron insisted on the last available table on the sidewalk patio where they could have a view of the crowds streaming by.

  The waiter arrived with the menus and two wineglasses, which he placed in front of Ron and Laura. “We’ll be needing three glasses,” Ron corrected, in a confident tone to stave off any questions about Molly’s age.

  “Right away, sir,” the waiter said.

  “I was thinking white. Is that okay with you?” he asked, directing the question at Molly.

  Molly was caught off guard. She had stopped feeling like anything approaching an adult now that she was officially the third wheel. Working at the store at least made her feel like she was her own person, not some annoying tagalong. “I better not,” Molly finally said. “I have to get back to work.”

  Ron consulted Laura next and ordered a half-bottle of chardonnay. Ron poured Molly’s glass first when the bottle arrived. “Just a small taste,” he said. “So you can join in the toast.”

  Molly’s stomach tightened into small knots. The last time Ron had made a toast, her life had been turned upside down.

  “To summer,” he said, clinking his glass against Laura’s. Molly obliged and raised hers too. “And to wine in the middle of the afternoon.”

  Molly took a sip of the wine once the waiter had taken their orders. The only alcohol she usually liked was beer, which Celeste advised she keep to herself, since it was so uncouth, but this tasted pretty good.

  “Your mom told me you went mountain biking,” Ron said.

  “I just went up a trail. It wasn’t that far.” She knew he was just trying to be friendly, but there was no way she could explain the way the ride had made her feel when she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him about something as simple as the weather.

  “I miss riding trails,” he said, taking another sip from his glass.