Sweet Dandelion

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I brighten. “Could you? I only have one left.”

  He sighs, narrowing his lips, but ends up breaking into a smile. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind getting some snacks and food. We need enough to get us through the next two days with so much closed.”

  “You have a point,” I agree, tipping the can in his direction.

  Padding into my room, I hear him stir, mumbling about where his wallet is.

  Sitting on my bed once again, I cross my legs beneath my body. My phone lights up from beneath the blanket and I have to dig to locate it.

  When I do I’m more than a little surprised to find Lachlan’s name staring back at me. We haven’t had any communication since the day he showed up here.

  Lachlan: What are you doing?

  Me: Nothing. Why?

  Lachlan: Any chance you can come up?

  Nibbling on my bottom lip I hear Sage putting on his coat. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he calls out, the door closing behind him.

  I hesitate for a second more before I respond.

  Me: Be there in a few.

  Hopping out of my bed, I leave the unopened can of soda on the nightstand. Looking down at my pajamas I know changing is a must. I yank on a pair of jeans and an old Led Zeppelin shirt I got from a thrift store with Lachlan in mind. Running a brush through my tangled tresses, I slip my feet into my sneakers, leave a quick note for Sage about being at Taylor’s for a few in case he comes back sooner than I expect, and dash out the door but not before I run back to grab the wrapped gift for him I hid in my desk drawer.

  Once again I don’t bother waiting for the elevator, choosing to take the stairs instead. I wish I could wipe the stupid giddy look off my face. It shouldn’t make me this ridiculously happy to see him. But no matter how hard I try, Lachlan is always more than just my guidance counselor.

  Reaching his door, I take a second to catch my breath before I knock.

  It swings open barely a second later like he was waiting for me.

  The wide white smile on his face makes me think he’s as giddy as I am. It’s not quite a week apart, but we act as if it has been months since we’ve seen one another.

  I tell myself I shouldn’t do it, but it doesn’t matter since I’m not good at listening to myself anyway, and the next thing I know my arms are wrapped around his neck and I’m hugging him like my life depends on it.

  He buries his face into my neck, inhaling my scent. I would even swear he murmurs, “Finally,” softly under his breath, but he’s pulling me inside so fast, letting the door swing closed that I can’t be sure.

  Releasing me, he steps back with a clearing of his throat. “How have you been?”

  “Okay,” I reply with a smile when Zeppelin runs toward me, his tail wagging so quickly he nearly knocks over a lamp. I bend down, rubbing the monster’s cheeks, letting him lick me. “I missed you too, buddy.”

  Standing back up, Lachlan points at me in surprise. Well, not me specifically, but what I wear. “Nice shirt.”

  “Yeah, some old ass man seems to like them so I decided to check them out. They’re not bad.”

  Something flashes on his face and I wish I could take my words back. I meant it in a joking way, but I know the last thing he needs is a reminder of the age difference between us.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, rubbing his stubbled jaw.

  “Uh…”

  “I made cookies too.”

  “Cookies?” I raise a brow. “I might be tempted by some cookies. What kind?”

  “Lemon.”

  “Sure, I’ll try one.” I shrug, sliding onto one of the barstools. I put the gift on the counter beside me. He grabs a literal cake display that houses his cookies. “You made these?” I blurt in surprise.

  “Yeah.” He lifts the glass dome off, allowing me to grab one.

  “You cook and bake?” I wiggle the cookie between us. “All right, Martha Stewart.”

  He shakes his head at me, his lips curling in the tiniest of smiles as he waits for me to take a bite.

  I do, only a nibble at first. Humming, I cover my mouth in case crumbs fall. “That’s delicious.”

  He chuckles, bracing his arms on the counter in front of me. “You can have another before you go.”

  “How about all of them?” I bargain.

  He presses his lips together to hide a smile.

  Looking around, I notice the tree put up in the corner—far nicer than Sage’s hand-me-down everything. A few presents rest beneath and that’s when I recall him telling me his family was coming to visit.

  “Should I be here?” I whisper-hiss, still holding half a cookie in my hand. “Isn’t your family here?” I look around like they’re going to jump out from behind the couch or from a closet to yell, “Surprise!”

  He comes around the kitchen counter, standing beside me. “No, they come in tomorrow.”

  Finishing my cookie, I blow out a breath. “Why’d you ask me to come?”

  His eyes drift to the present sitting on his granite countertop. “I got you something. Seems we both did.” He holds up a hand for me to wait where I am. He hurries over to the tree and grabs two small gift-wrapped packages below. He returns, holding them out to me.

  I take them gently, smiling at how neatly wrapped they are. The snowmen smile cheerily up at me and little penguins dance on ice. I would’ve expected maybe something more manly, like plaid paper, but I like that this reflects his playful side.

  Sliding him his present, he grabs it, holding it delicately between his big hands.

  I bite my lip nervously, feeling silly now for what I bought. It was a total whim, but when I saw the advertisement for it online I knew it was the most perfect gift ever for him. I wasn’t expecting anything in return, but I’m more than a little excited to see what reminded him of me.

  “One, two, three,” he counts down and we both rip into our presents.

  The first of mine reveals a mini green camera that prints photos. “I saw it and it reminded me of you for some reason,” he explains with a hesitant shrug.

  “I think it’s awesome.” He stares down at the plain cardboard box in his hands. “Come on, take it out,” I encourage, eager to see what he thinks.

  With a grin, he does, pulling out the metal device. “Wha—” He starts to ask, then sees the sheet with it and the sticker of what exactly the metal device does.

  “It’s an embosser,” I explain, though it’s probably not necessary. “I noticed you always wrote your name in your books. Now, you can use this.” I tap it, already eager to see his printed books with the round raised edges and his name neatly inlaid among it.

  “This book belongs to Lachlan Matthew Taylor,” he reads what I had inscribed on it, so he can use it to press into the title pages of the books he owns. “Dani, this is … I don’t think I’ve ever been given such a thoughtful gift.”

  I shrug like it’s no big deal, but inside I’m giddy that he loves it so much.

  “You have one more,” he reminds me, flicking his fingers at the still wrapped box in my hands, the other lying on the counter.

  “Oh, right.”

  I remove the paper, revealing a brand new e-reader, also green.

  “I wanted to get yellow for both,” he explains. “I know it’s your favorite color, but I couldn’t, so I hope green comes a close second.”

  “How do you know yellow is my favorite?”

  “You always wear it, and even if you can’t see it, I can always feel your sunshine.”

  He doesn’t know it, but his words hit me hard.

  He’s the sunshine, I’m the rain, but we’re no rainbow together. There is no happy ending for us. How can there be? I want there to be so badly, and I keep pushing and pushing, because I can’t stay away. I crave his nearness, because … well, he’s the sun and I need him. But the truths still remain.

  My age.

  His position.

  This could ruin us both.

  He must notice the sadness in my e
yes and misinterpret me. “I don’t want you to think you can’t borrow my books, that’s not why I got you this, but I thought it might open your eyes to other books that even I haven’t read.” He cracks a grin. “You could give me some recommendations sometime.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I rub my finger over the orange packaging housing my new e-reader. I’m trying to force my melancholy thoughts away. They have no business here, souring this moment with him, because even if my gut tells me there isn’t a white picket fence waiting for us in our future it doesn’t mean I don’t want to enjoy the now and whatever it brings me. “Thank you so much for these, it means a lot.”

  His smile is crooked, almost playful. It makes him look younger than his nearly thirty years. “And thank you for this.” He holds up the embosser. “I guess I have an excuse to go buy more books now, huh?”

  I eye the growing pile by his TV stand. “I’m not sure you need one.”

  His eyes follow my gaze. “Guess you’re right.”

  Silence falls between us and I rock my legs back and forth, not knowing what to do or say.

  He twists his lips as if he’s thinking the same thing. After our last talk about the complications and implications of what we’re doing, I don’t want to push him, not even if I want to kiss him.

  I’m trying to be a grown up, to be responsible. But it’s difficult.

  “I-I should go,” I finally speak, hopping down.

  My movement seems to break him from some kind of trance. “Yeah, thanks for coming by.” He says it so easily, like I was stopping by to borrow sugar, not for him to give his student a Christmas present.

  I grab my presents, cradling them in my arms and treasuring them more than he can imagine.

  He walks me to the door, Zeppelin sniffing at my heels. Swinging it open, he waits for me to pass through. I turn around and look at him.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Lachlan,” I whisper back, my heart clenching.

  Another half-smile later he closes the door.

  I return to the apartment with my spoils, and when Sage gets back with grape Fanta, junk food, and enough takeout to last us a week, I tell him I’m suddenly not feeling well.

  It’s not entirely a lie either.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  By lunch time Christmas day, all the presents are unwrapped, the paper tucked neatly in the trashcan. It leaves the two of us, in the too quiet apartment that’s surprisingly lonely despite the two souls residing inside.

  Sage flips through channels on the TV, clicking his tongue as he does. Sometimes he’ll stop on one for a few seconds before moving on, other times it’s a few minutes that pass before the inevitable flip of the switch comes.

  “You want to pick something?” he asks me suddenly, holding the remote out to me.

  “Sure.” I might as well, because he seems incapable of choosing.

  I end up putting on Home Alone. It’s a complete classic.

  Grabbing a blanket I climb onto the couch from where I’d been sitting on the floor, fiddling with the artist tablet he got me, playing with the calligraphy aspect of it.

  Sage reclines back against the cushions, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and the side of his face into his open palm.

  It seems that even on Christmas we’re going to spend our time doing what we usually do when we’re together. Eating and watching TV. It’s not as if anything is open, but even if it were I wouldn’t want to go.

  Technically, this is our second Christmas without Mom. But I was still in the hospital this time last year so I don’t think either of us noticed, as awful as that sounds. I remember Sage setting up a mini Christmas tree in my room. I’m not sure it was allowed, but no one told him he had to take it down either.

  My phone buzzes with text messages rolling in from my friends and extended family wishing me a Merry Christmas. I’m selfish enough to have ignored all of them. Although, I did send Ansel a thank you for the incredible piece he made me—a flower, a dandelion to be specific, crafted out of pieces of wood like the art I admired so much at the museum when he first brought me.

  When the movie ends, neither of us moves to start the next one.

  “Sage?” I hesitate to ask.

  He turns his head in my direction. “Yeah?” His look is skeptical.

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  His brow furrows. “What would make you ask that?”

  I flick my fingers lazily. “You dated before, in high school, and college, but not now.”

  He rubs the back of his head. “Haven’t had time, I guess,” he admits, almost confused himself. “You know what hell work has been. There hasn’t been enough of me to give. Why?” he probes again, wondering why I’ve gone down this sudden train of thought.

  “I was thinking about how quiet it is with the two of us.”

  “Yeah,” he muses, looking around sadly, “it never bothered me before, though, when it was only me, but thinking about you leaving for college … I don’t like the idea of being here alone again.”

  “Sage,” I say his name slowly. “I’m not going to college.”

  His eyes widen, almost looking horrorstricken. “But you applied. I helped you mail them. I—”

  I hold my hand up, silencing his rambling. “I specifically told you I’d send in applications, but I wasn’t sure I would go. I still don’t want to Sage. That’s not going to change by the time I need to accept.”

  “Dani,” he begins, “college … it’s what you should do.”

  “What I should do and what I want to do are two very different things. I might not know exactly what I do want to do instead, but I know going to college right now isn’t an option for me.”

  His mouth opens and closes, his breaths quickening.

  “Don’t be mad,” I beg. The last thing I want to do is fight with my brother on Christmas. Frankly, I don’t want to fight with him any day, but on a holiday feels especially hideous.

  “I’m not … mad.” But the way he bites out the last word has me thinking the opposite. “I’m…” He thrusts his fingers through his hair. “Mom wanted you to go to college. That’s what she expected and wanted for you. If you don’t go … it’s dumb, but I feel like I’m failing her.”

  I shake my head rapidly back and forth. “Sage, no. Things are different now. That was my plan too at that time, but the shooting, Mom dying … it set up my life to take a different route. I’m not saying I’ll never go to college, but I’m not going now. I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore and I need time to figure out who I am and where I fit into the world.”

  “Well,” he blows out a breath, “I know one thing for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No matter what alternate path you take, or choices you make, you’ll always be Dandelion Meadows. I love you, Weed.”

  I scoot over, laying my head on his shoulder.

  “I love you too, Herb.”

  We interlace our pinkies, a silent promise to stick together through whatever is to come ahead of us.

  Lachlan might be the man I make most pinky promises with now, but Sage is the one that taught them to me, and my brother has never broken one.

  I hope Lachlan doesn’t either.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Ansel and I walk arm in arm down the street from the condo, headed to a nearby art store that recently opened. He hinted at wanting to check it out and since it’s so close we opted to walk once he got here, despite my absolute hatred of the cold.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I shiver from the temperature, tightening my hold on his arm.

  He moves closer to me as well. “It’s not that cold, Meadows. Stop being a baby. We’re almost there. We’re barely two blocks from the condo. It would’ve been silly to drive.”

  I give him a look that says I whole-heartedly disagree with that statement.

  “Whoa, isn’t that Mr. Taylor?”

  I look ahead to where he’s
pointing with his free hand. “Who?” I blurt out, feeling blood rush to my face like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

  “Mr. Taylor—the guidance counselor,” he adds, still pointing.

  When I look, I know without a doubt it’s Lachlan walking his pet bear. But I squint anyway. “Oh, yeah, looks like it. He lives in my building,” I drop casually, hoping my voice isn’t quivering like I think it is.

  Ansel’s head swings in my direction. “No shit?”

  As we get closer to crossing paths, I recognize the three figures walking near him from the photos in his office.

  It’s one thing seeing his family in photos, it’s another to see them in person. I feel my saliva get lodged in my throat, all because I’m probably feeling similar to Lachlan the day he ran into me out with Sage. Seeing him with his family is a reminder of how if we’d be found out for what we’ve done, it’s not just our lives that could be affected. Our family would know and it’d hurt them immeasurably.

  I know the moment Lachlan spots me, because the casual conversation he was carrying on with his father is abruptly cut off.

  It’s really not a surprise, us running into each other.

  Ansel and I slow, as does Lachlan, which forces his family to as well.

  I still haven’t told my friend that I spend my every day period with Mr. Taylor. I might’ve told him what happened at my old school, but it felt too embarrassing to share this fact with him. Besides, I’m worried if he finds out he might begin to realize that I like the school’s guidance counselor a little too much.

  Lachlan clears his throat, and I try not to notice how good he looks in his fitted winter coat and a gray beanie. “Hi Ansel, Dani.”

  “Hi, Mr. Taylor,” Ansel is the one to speak back.

  I give an awkward wave, hoping none of them notices the familiarity with which Zeppelin rubs against me.

  “Mom, Dad, Isla, these are two students at the school I work for.”

  “Oh,” his mom brightens, “nice to meet you two.” She holds out a red-gloved hand to each of us. She’s beautiful, her dark hair streaked with silver, and smile lines beside her eyes. His dad is equally as handsome, an older version of Lachlan himself with a charming smile and glasses. Isla is gorgeous, and I have to elbow Ansel for nearly drooling at the sight of her. Her mahogany tresses hang past her breasts and her cheeks are tinted pink from the chill in the air. A light dusting of freckles are sprinkled across the tip of her nose.