Fifteen
Fifteen
“‘I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan…’”
Leaving the bad memories behind us, Thomas and I are watching the starry sky, taking advantage of the new moon to look for constellations.
I know this wasn’t a casual suggestion on his part.
A few nights ago, when I told him about my father and how much he’d hurt me when he left, I’d also told him about how much I’d loved sky-watching with my dad when I was a child.
Now, I lie on top of Thomas, my legs stretched out between his and Persuasion resting on my belly.
He has one hand tucked under his head, and he rubs the back of my neck with the other, while I use my phone’s flashlight to read aloud all about Anne and Frederick’s heart-wrenching love.
One he immediately makes fun of, naturally.
“Is this your idea of a romantic love story, Ness?” he teases.
I pull my eyes from the page and back to him. “Jane Austen does much more than just tell a banal romantic love story. She delves deeply into the psyche of the characters, exposes all their hypocrisies, and describes how love can triumph over resentment.”
“I still think these books do you more harm than good,” he needles me.
I roll my eyes, surrendering myself to the idea that I will clearly never be able to make him care about books.
I close the book and set it aside, changing the subject to tomorrow’s basketball game.
“Have you ever thought about having a plan B, other than basketball? I mean, you say you don’t like studying, but you’re not doing badly at all. ”
“Nah, why should I? I’m a basketball star,” he answers, cocky as ever, making me laugh and shake my head at the same time.
“So that’s your secret dream? To be a basketball star?”
“I don’t have any secret dreams. I’ve never had any, didn’t have the chance to cultivate them. College was never in my plans. For a while, I thought about working for my uncle in his tattoo shop, but then life took me in a different direction.”
I raise myself up slightly to look at him, intrigued. “But you came to Corvallis with a basketball scholarship, so you must have had something in mind?”
He rolls his eyes but tolerates my third degree.
“Not really. I’ve always been good at basketball.
Even in high school with all the bullshit, I managed to perform pretty well.
I quit the team after the accident, and I only started playing again in my last year of community service because my coach encouraged me.
For some reason, he’d decided to take me under his wing.
During that time, a talent scout noticed me, and my name started to get around.
But obviously I fucked that all up with my second relapse.
Coach knew I wanted to get away from Portland, so when I finally got clean, he put in a good word for me with the athletics department at OSU.
He had some old friends there, and they brought me here.
Basketball was my one-way ticket out of Portland,” he concludes.
I figure I’ve done enough investigation for today, so I turn off my phone flashlight and rest my head on Thomas’s arm. Together, we rest and watch the sky, side by side. Suddenly, I point to a cluster of brilliant stars and exclaim with childlike excitement, “Look, Thomas! It’s Cassiopeia!”
“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he says doubtfully.
“No, it is. Here, look closer.” I point my index finger in the direction of my gaze. “Do you see those two small pyramids next to each other? They form a letter W ?”
Thomas squints, concentrating on those luminous dots light-years away from us and nods slowly.
I draw my index finger downward, as though I’m tracing the constellation on a piece of paper.
“A little bit down here is Andromeda, Cassiopeia’s daughter, and there to the right is Perseus.
” I sigh, still gazing up. “You know, according to the Greek myth, Perseus saved Andromeda from Cetus, the sea monster,” I say in a passionate whisper.
“Okay, nerd, I guess you found it,” Thomas admits, smiling. Then he adds, “Let me guess: Those up there are Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, right?” I scan for the two constellations, fascinated by the spectacle of the night.
“You’re right, that’s them. The star at the end of Ursa Minor is the North Star, which is visible all year round,” I whisper dreamily.
When I turn around, Thomas is watching me.
And the way he’s looking at me makes me tremble.
Like I’m the best thing in his life. Like he’s found his place in my eyes.
His place to retreat to when he’s in need of shelter.
His place where he can feel free to be what he wants, what he is, with no masks and no defenses.
I smile again and wonder if it will always be this way.
If my heart will always thump in my chest with the force of a hurricane every time he’s near me.
If my cheeks will flush red every time he gives me one of his smiles.
If my hands will always tremble from the feelings he stirs in me.
I hope so. I hope I get to feel this way for the rest of my life, because I can’t remember ever being happier than I am right now.
I feel the wind suddenly pick up, and before I know it, the sky is clouding over.
Strands of my hair start to fly around. Thomas tucks one carefully behind my ear, and just as I see him part his lips to tell me something, a drop of water lands on my cheek, and I blink rapidly.
We both raise our eyes to the sky, surprised.
Another drop. And then another. Within a few moments, we are getting drenched by a downpour.
How the hell is this possible?
“Shit,” Thomas says, standing up on the platform.
“Rain wasn’t in the forecast.” He moves the soaked hair that falls across his forehead with a jerk of his head and holds his hand out to me.
“Come on, let’s go home.” The rain is falling copiously on us now.
I stand up as well. I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down to completely cover my hands and then rub them against my face, trying to dry off as much of the water as possible. But then I burst out laughing.
Thomas looks at me with a priceless expression on his face. Somewhere between astonishment and amusement. “Are you going crazy?”
I stare up at the sky and close my eyes, letting the rain fall on my face.
I remember when I was a little girl and I would always beg my father to let me play in the rain.
My mother never did, but he would indulge me.
I would jump and run around with my arms spread out wide, like an airplane in flight.
I could splash through puddles for hours on end.
I feel now just like I did back then, like a happy little girl.
“Don’t take me home; let’s stay here,” I say, talking loudly over the sound of the rain.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “We’re surrounded by trees, Ness. Are you trying to get toasted by a lightning bolt?”
I shake my head no, fully enjoying this moment. “I just want to feel free.”
Thomas just shakes his head and smiles at me, amused. With my own smile on my lips, I lean into him and kiss him. He runs a hand through the sodden hair at the back of my neck, kissing me back with the same passion. Our lips fuse together, tongues entwined. We devour one another.
I stand up on my tiptoes and wrap my hands around his damp face while our hearts beat in time to the rain. My God…if I had the power to stop time, this is without a shadow of a doubt the moment I would choose: me, Thomas, and the rain.
***
It’s 11:45 on Friday morning. Since I have class in the afternoon, I’ve managed to convince Maggie to swap this shift with me so I can be at Thomas’s game tonight.
The place is nearly empty. What few customers are here work on finishing their breakfasts, mostly tuna sandwiches and scrambled eggs.
And I dust the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar with a smile on my face, thinking back on the magic of last night under the downpour.
“Vanessa Emily Clark.” The voice behind me is followed by the thump of a purse hitting the counter, making me start.
I turn around quickly. Before me, I see my mother, dressed to the nines as always.
Long wavy light hair falls to her slim shoulders.
Her face is perfectly made up, her lean and willowy body clad in a suit with a gray knee-length skirt and a white blouse underneath the jacket.
“M-Mom, what…what are you doing here?” My voice comes out so low that it’s barely audible. I’m holding a bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other as I stare at her, blinking repeatedly. It takes a few seconds before my brain starts working again.
“The question isn’t what I’m doing here; it’s what are you trying to prove?” Her high-pitched voice draws the attention of some customers.
“What?”
“I came here last Saturday. I’m guessing they told you,” she answers shortly.
“Of course they told me,” I say, still not understanding the reason for her visit.
“So why haven’t I heard from you?”
After a brief moment of confusion, the light dawns. I press my palms to the counter and stare her down. “How did you know I’d be covering this shift today?” I ask her suspiciously.
She shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “I’ve been following you.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“I’ve been doing it for a few days. Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. You disappeared, Vanessa. What did you expect me to do? Sit quietly in the corner while my daughter was most likely blowing up her future hanging out in a shady frat house with bad company?”