Luz, Rebound

by Jeania Kimbrough

  “Something like that,” Ryan said smoothly.

  Chapter 12

  Vulnerable

  Christie’s absence meant that after school Ryan would be on his own. The mixed signals I had been getting from him lately made me wonder if he might talk to me again if I tried to engage him. By the end of our English class, I had made up my mind to give it a shot.

  I quickly took my books back to my room after school and freshened up. Then I set off to walk around campus, looking for him. He usually hung around for her practice near the football field behind the dorms, but by scanning the area from a distance I could tell he wasn’t there.

  I went to get a Dr Pepper from the recreation center on the other side of a treed lawn in front of my dorm and checked the game and MTV rooms and could not find him there, either. Finally, I walked through the open expanse of hibernating grass in Spirit Park, past the library, and toward the main, historic, Mission Revival style building that housed administration offices and some classrooms.

  “Hey, Kara, whatcha doin’?” Peter, a lanky boy with new wave hair from art class called out to me. He sat on a bench close to a back-entrance portico.

  “Nothing.” I walked over to sit beside him for a moment. “What’re you working on?” He was drawing, his self-proclaimed favorite pastime.

  “Sketching something for class. Actually, it’s a woman—at least, half of one. Do you think you could sit over there on the steps and model for me for just a minute? Her posture doesn’t look lifelike enough.”

  “Half woman?” I walked to the top of the stone steps and saw Ryan through the double-door windows. He was on the pay phone inside and looked up. My face grew hot as I turned my back toward him and sat, sinking away from his vision and facing Peter. “How do you want me to sit?” I called out, my mind starting to race.

  “With your legs folded together toward the side, kind of a profile, but facing me.”

  I complied by switching positions and facing Peter, my eyes unfocused, straining to hear Ryan speak. One side of the double doors was open just a crack. I couldn’t make out the words, but the baritone of his voice, sprinkled with a witty- sounding laughter, was hypnotic and soothing at the same time. His voice was one of his nicest features, apart from his hands…and maybe his eyes.

  “I said put one hand behind you and lean back into it,” Peter directed, pushing away his long bangs that kept falling in front of his eyes. I hadn’t heard Peter speak before, but Ryan’s voice was growing in volume. I had a feeling he’d moved closer to the window so he could see what was going on.

  “That’s it,” Peter said as Ryan’s voice kept murmuring in the background. I leaned back and listened. The February day was warmer than usual and sunlight filtered through the still-leafless trees, but I was starting to feel chilled. I couldn’t stay out here forever, and I’d found what I was looking for. “How can you sit out here for so long, Peter? It’s cold.”

  “One more minute.” He was obsessed. So nice to be obsessed with something useful, something innocent and harmless, I thought. Creative expression was an outlet I should try to use more myself. But for now, I was thinking of what next to do about Ryan. I would start by going into the hall where he was.

  “What is a half-woman, anyway?” I said as I got up, brushing my hands off, careful not to look toward Ryan again.

  “A siren. I’ll show you later.” Peter’s head bent down, intent on his work.

  I turned around and advanced toward the door. “Okay. I need to get a book out of my locker for class. I forgot it,” I called over my shoulder.

  When I pushed at the entrance I saw through the window that Ryan was tracking me. A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t know if it was from the cold or the sensation of soon being alone with him. I’m sure some teachers and school administrators were in their respective rooms, but it was just us in the hallway.

  I observed him openly now taking my time since there was no one else but him to see me do it. His hair was slightly curly around the edges, framing longish, classically handsome features that included his strong cheekbones, nose and a slightly cleft chin. The width of his mouth and the largeness of his brown and gold flecked, thickly lashed eyes betrayed the fact he was still growing into his face. He had rolled up his sleeves, and holding the phone set off all the muscular lines in his forearm.

  “Pages 180 to 201 in chemistry,” he said into the phone. He turned away from me. “ No…no…I think Deana got your English assignment.”

  I knew then it was Christie on the other end. I walked over to the staircase leading to the second floor and sat down, hoping no one would come by.

  “No, nothing interesting in my English class.” His voice lowered slightly and paused. “Nothing in Spanish.”

  We were in those classes together. I smiled. She was asking him indirectly about me.

  His eyes cut over to me again. “Go away,” he mouthed.

  I shook my head and made myself more comfortable.

  He told her he had lasagna and salad for lunch. I rolled my eyes at him. He smiled.

  That was my cue. I got up and walked toward him again.

  He shook his head, looking nervous—afraid almost.

  “Relax,” I said silently, drawing close. Mischief was inside me. His books were lying at his feet. I was close enough to make out the tone of her voice on the other side of the line. He bent down and picked up his notebook and grabbed a pen from his back pocket.

  “I didn’t really notice,” he said into the phone. His hand was shaking. Leave, he wrote on a blank page.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “I never notice what she wears,” he said, looking me up and down. “Maybe jeans.”

  The fact he wasn’t telling her I was right there made me more playful. I turned around and pointed to the label on my rear pocket. “Levi’s,” I whispered over my shoulder at him as I slapped my butt cheek, winking at him.

  A half-strangled laugh escaped from his mouth. “Oh, nothing. Just noticed Peter Mela drawing outside for a second. His expression was…funny.” He picked up his notebook again. I’ll write you later, he wrote.

  I thought about his tempting offer. I didn’t want to leave. This was just getting good, but I could tell he was nervous and I didn’t want to upset him. I snatched the notebook and pen away from him. He waved his hand at me. I pointed my finger up. “One second,” I said, without expelling any sound.

  “Christie, I’ve got to go.” I went and sat down back at the step, trying to think what I might write him, turning pages quickly to find a blank one until I spotted my name. “No, it’s just that I forgot something upstairs.” I looked up at him, spreading open the notebook on my lap. He looked mortified. “No, of course, it’s not more important than you. I just need it for homework.”

  He continued to soothe her. She wasn’t letting him off the phone so quickly. I noticed his writing on the page alongside the big, bubbly writing that must be hers. A pen cap fell at my feet. He’d tossed it, not to hit me I suppose, but to get my attention. He shook his head again, his eyes wide. I stopped looking at him long enough to read:

  Kara has a pretty tan.

  I didn’t notice. Only her shoes—size 11s they look like.

  Ha! That’s true!

  I looked up at him. He was trying to say good-bye again. I flipped through other pages quickly, curious to see what other notes between them were there, if any mentioned me again. There was one about Spring Fling plans. No mention of me.

  “Christie, I’ll call you tonight.”

  I found the first blank page that was available and wrote:

  Okay, but you better be gone when I return, because I can’t help from coming back. PS, They’re only size 7. And you know that.

  I picked up the notebook and walked toward him. Yeah, scared. That is how he looked now, h
alf leaning against the wall, watching me intently. I glanced around the hallway. Not another soul. I drew close to him, close enough to feel his breath, to be cognizant of the way his heartbeat moved his shirt. His eyes were a little wild, like something that had been caught. I tiptoed so my face was almost level to his. I could hear her nasally voice. “It’s just that I want to make sure you notice when I’m gone,” she said.

  “I notice,” he said defensively, and I let myself smile, just a hint. I drew closer still, one hand coming up to push the phone away from his mouth, though not hard enough to force it away from his ear. There was little resistance. Only the tendon of his inner wrist flexed. My face was less than half a hand away from his. Neither one of us said anything.

  “Ryan?” I heard on the other end of the phone.

  I blew a small puff of air at him and backed away, opening my eyes wide at him in puckish glee.

  He grinned back for a second and then scowled. I exited up the stairs to my locker, my heart racing. “Yes,” I heard him say into the phone. “Yes.”

  ***

  After I got the book, I sat down in the upstairs hallway against the lockers and read a few pages, not really following any of the words. I told him to be gone by the time I came back down, but I wanted to be sure I gave him enough time. Christie obviously didn’t want to let him off the phone. She was really insecure about their relationship, it seemed. And she should be. I was sure I saw a part of the old Ryan downstairs a few minutes ago in the way he looked at me.

  After a few minutes more, I made my way back to the top of the stairs and listened for his voice below. There was nothing. Halfway down the steps I could see part of the pay phone. It was hung up. I guessed he was gone. That thought was both a relief and a disappointment. I walked down the rest of the steps more pensively and looked back down the hallway anyway. Seeing no one still, I sighed to myself and headed toward the door.

  “What are you doing, Kara?” Ryan’s voice came from behind me and made me turn on my heel right before I opened it. He was fifteen feet away where the entranceway started to intersect with the main hallway to the chapel.

  “You’re still here?”

  “I never left.”

  My heartbeat accelerated. “Why not?”

  “I asked you a question. Why did you tease me when I was on the phone with Christie?” He strode forward and stopped about five feet away from me. His ability to ask a direct question when we both should be feeling self-conscious made me a little nervous.

  “I…dunno. I was just having fun, I guess.”

  “I’m not your plaything.”

  “That’s right. You’re Christie’s plaything now.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a scowl. “She was here for me when you weren’t. She loves me, more than anything or anyone. She can be insecure about it, but at least I know she really means it when she says it.”

  His words were biting, but I chose to concentrate on only one point. “Why is she so insecure about it? Don’t you love her?”

  “Of course I do. That’s why I asked you to leave us alone.”

  “Why should I matter? Do you still love me?”

  I wanted to cut back, and these words seemed to work. He pressed his lips together, not answering right away. “That’s why I asked you what you were doing, Kara.”

  “And I told you that I didn’t know. Now you answer me.”

  “Do you still love me?”

  His reflexive question caught me off guard. I hadn’t even let myself seriously consider it, really, not the way he meant. I still thought of Ben as my lost lover, but I guessed in some ways I was still attracted to Ryan too. My gut response was confusing. I wanted Ryan to want me. I wanted to punish Christie. I was bent on separating Ryan and Ben when it came to my own feelings, though. I couldn’t very well love both of them in that way…could I?

  “I miss you. I miss our talks. The way we used to be such good friends. Nobody here knows me like you do. Or at least, the way you used to. Why can’t we be friends now? Why won’t you ever talk to me? Why don’t you just tell her to let us talk?”

  “So, you’d rather I had no one, just so I we could be friends?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t see what the big deal is.” I felt impatient now with this line of thinking. It was so stupid that he couldn’t just be friends with me. Everything would be okay if he’d try.

  “It would hurt Christie if we became friends again.”

  “Who have you become, Ryan? I thought you were your own person. How can she tell you what to do like this? Who to be friends with? It doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like she’s your master. Snap out of it!”

  “I can’t hurt her.”

  “Well, you’re hurting me when you won’t be friends.”

  “And you hurt me when you left.”

  Tears swelled in my eyes. I knew I had. I had suspected from the first that was what all this was about. But his retort broke my heart. I did what he said. I was sorry I hurt him, but if given the chance I knew I would probably leave all over again.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said, feeling a tear spill down my cheek. I just wanted more experiences than what I had at the time.

  Ryan looked at me and then away, off in the distance through the window. I could hear the sound of people approaching. It was about five o’clock now, and the activity bus he could take home was ready. “I’ve got to go. I don’t want people to see us together.”

  I wiped my face, the vulnerable moment we had together pierced by the approaching crowd of classmates who would soon walk through the building to the front circular driveway. Ryan didn’t say good-bye, but looked at me once more before he headed for the front door. I slipped inside the dark chapel and sat alone for a while until I was sure they had all left.

  Chapter 13

  V Day

  On February 14 I didn’t go to school because I pretended I was sick. To feign sickness in a dorm you have to get your timing right and think through a plan. For example, dorm monitors are trained to always take your temperature. With that in mind, I waited toward the end of the hour they dealt with morning issues and stopped off at the restroom first, where I ran hot water and swished it in my mouth under my tongue until the point of almost burning. When I arrived at their door, there was no wait.

  “One hundred and one.” Dorm Mom’s brow knitted together as she brought the mercury line closer to her face. “That’s a little high. Do you feel like you need to go to a doctor?”

  I paused for a minute as if I was seriously considering what she said. “Maybe not yet. My head just hurts and my throat’s a little sore.” I coughed. “I’d just like to lie down.”

  “Sure. I’ll let the school know and check on you later.”

  Whew! I didn’t even tell Nic and Kelli that I was just making it up, so if anyone asked, they’d be convincing. Otherwise people might jump to conclusions on why I didn’t want to go to school. It wasn’t because Ryan hadn’t looked in my direction since a couple of days ago in the hallway. It wasn’t that the day made me also think of Ben. It wasn’t that David had flown in for the weekend to come take Kelli out to dinner or that Nic wanted to hang out with some friends from the dorms, forming what was sure to be an impromptu stag party. It wasn’t even having to sit through all the cheesy class deliveries of flowergrams and Hershey’s Kisses glued to paper hearts that were favorite fund-raisers this time of year. I could handle all these things. But why do it if I could avoid them altogether? If I stayed in today, the rule was I had to stay in tonight, and all situations I didn’t want to deal with—but could if I absolutely had to—stayed on the periphery of safe emotional ground. Like in the game of poker, this was a round I chose to not play my hand. So I napped until about 10:30 a.m. when Dorm Mom came back to check on me.

  “Feeling better?”
r />   “A little.”

  “I want to check your temperature again.”

  “Okay, but can I go to the restroom first?” My hand reached out for the wastebasket.

  “Now? You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

  “I don’t know, but I really need to.”

  “Fine.”

  I let only a couple of minutes pass before I was back again with a freshly warmed mouth.

  “Ninety-nine point eight. We’re down some.” She put her palm on my forehead.

  “I didn’t throw up after all. I think I just need to sleep.”

  “Good.” Her face relaxed. “Do you think you’ll want lunch? Or do you want to just keep sleeping?”

  After assuring her I’d let her know if I felt worse or was hungry, Dorm Mom left me in peace until midafternoon.

  “Here’s your mail.” She laid a few letters on my desk. “And the school brought over these notes and flowers. I guess you’re missing out.”

  I didn’t examine the items until she left. My temperature still registered a little higher than normal, probably from lying in bed all day under covers and reading. She was satisfied though that whatever I had was passing and told me I had to see a nurse if for some reason I wasn’t well again tomorrow. I knew the policy.

  After getting up to lock the door behind her, I surveyed the items she’d left on my desk: two flowers, two kiss-and-tells, two letters, and one postcard. I snatched up the postcard first; it was a picture of camel silhouettes on a beach at sunset. On the back, Ben had written:

  Modern Australian transport.

  This is Broome. The sunsets are lovely.

  Enjoyed talking to you the other day. Write

  me sometime.

  Love, Ben

  It was typical of the kind of notes Ben sent since we stopped seeing each other regularly. Short, not overly emotional or long on details, but friendly enough and always signed off casually with the word “love.” They sounded like him, even like I meant something to him, but they never promised anything. I often wondered why he bothered. Why he didn’t just let me go, and stop trying to communicate when he could have so many times and I would have understood. My eyes grew hot as I stared at his writing, taking a few moments before stuffing the card into the leaves of a book, out of sight. It was time to move on. He should stop writing me, just like he should stop calling me, but I never had the will to tell him so. I tried to stop communicating with him as much when I was placed in Sydney, and I hadn’t sent him any letters since I returned to the States, but in my head I left a door half open too, like his postcard. Perhaps I was afraid of that time between us not really meaning something in the end, and that all those naysayers of the past were right. Ben and I had talked before about how we would prove them wrong.