Chapter 16 12 Years Ago
CHAPTER 16
12 YEARS AGO
September
I slipped back into the school year as if nothing had ever happened. Mel was applying to college that year and my parents were adamant that even if she loved acting, she should still get a degree in something professional. Engineering, nursing, social work or teaching were all acceptable.
“It’s not that we want to stop you from doing what you love,” my dad said while we sat silently at the dinner table. “We just want you to have a secure living like a doctor or a lawyer.”
“It’s a waste of all our hard work, otherwise,” my mother said.
“Ugh, leave me alone.” Mel gave me the side-eye. “Lia will fulfill your dreams, anyway. You’ll get your precious lawyer.”
My parents looked at me, their bickering ceasing as they took me in. Their diamond that wouldn’t crack under pressure.
My dad sighed, rubbing his hands over his balding scalp as he turned back to my sister. “You are going to kill me with stress. We only want you to make choices that protect your future.”
In response, Mel tossed her hair and strode off.
Their advice sunk in, though. She found a five-year program at McGill that would certify her as a teacher and allow her a minor in drama. My relieved parents agreed to help supplement her student loans to cover her tuition. Mel paraded around self-satisfied, as if that had been her intent all along.
Grade eleven was pretty much the same as the year prior—debate team, school and never-ending homework. Except, instead of instant messaging at night, Wes and I would text and even call. I had a new Razr and Wes had gotten a BlackBerry from his dad. To hide how much time I spent not doing homework, I fabricated extra essays and projects or told my parents that I needed to study more to keep up my grades. The extent of my falsehoods was unnecessary. My parents believed me.
We never mentioned the kiss, but I felt that we were implicitly together. When Billy asked me to go to a movie with him, I blew him off. Zainab suggested that I go out with her and her boyfriend’s buddy if I wasn’t feeling Billy, but I declined. I had Wes, even if no one knew. Zainab still didn’t believe he was real.
But I didn’t need to convince them. What Wes and I had was special. Far better than holding some sweaty guy’s hand in an overfull movie theatre. Wes and I were working our way through Laura Lee Guhrke’s backlog and had started sending each other page numbers of scenes of escalating undress. At night I couldn’t stop myself from replaying those scenes in my mind with Wes as the hero.
In December Wes messaged me. After weeks of avoiding his father, he was finally coming to Toronto.
Wes: My dad wants me to come before Christmas. I’m going to drive my mom’s car. Would you be free that Sunday?
Lia: YES!
I spent the week in a fever, planting my lie early: I was going to be hanging out with Zainab in the early evening to celebrate her birthday and get some holiday shopping done. I knew that telling my parents that Wes was visiting wasn’t an option. They preferred that our friendship was a summer blip in my otherwise orderly life.
Even though I was dying to see Wes, he was apprehensive about having to stay with his father. “At least I get to hang out with you,” he said, during one of our whispered late-night calls. We both pretended my secrecy wasn’t because my parents didn’t approve of him.
It felt like our reunion would never arrive. The first fall of snow came and went before our weekend. It was a miracle I made it through Friday prayers, dinner with my family, a monotonous Saturday of homework, and listening to my parents argue with my sister about her plans to go to a party that evening. “Be more like Lia,” my mother suggested. “Look at her working so hard, even on the weekend. She knows better than to waste her time with socializing and parties at your age.”
I felt dirty, like an imposter, and avoided my sister’s eyes.
Mel glared at me and stomped around in her UGGs until my parents eventually relented. On her way out, she poked her head in my door. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Uh, the usual,” I told her, trying not to look shifty.
“You’re going on a date or something, eh?”
I shook my head emphatically. “No!”
“Oh psh. Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, but her gaze was slippery in a way that made me keep my mouth shut. As much as I wanted to confide in my sister, I couldn’t. Too much was at risk.
I pulled out Devil in Winter and bundled myself into bed, but somehow the story couldn’t keep my mind off the next day and all that it promised.
Finally Sunday arrived. I spent the morning painstakingly tweezing my eyebrows and shaving my legs, even though there was no way my skin would be exposed to the near-freezing air. I stared at my closet for what felt like hours, debating my outfit. I settled on my most flattering black skinny jeans, a striped sweater and my heather grey cocoon coat. When I left home in the late afternoon, I felt like the coolest teen on the subway, swaying with the handrail as I rolled from Victoria Park to Bloor and then down to Dundas to meet Wes at the Eaton Centre, the mall downtown.
My heart pounded as I emerged from the underground into Yonge-Dundas Square. The screens were dazzling, the Christmas tree in the centre of the square glittered, and lively crowds surrounded the buskers. Conversation mingled with the music of holiday hits. I weaved through the throng, the hurried shoppers growing more frantic as dusk and a dusting of snow arrived. Anticipation tightened my throat until I finally spotted Wes’s tousled blond hair. He was leaning against the wall next to the H we were our own island in the crowded sea.
Feeling completely safe in his arms, I forgot my anxiety about hiding his visit from my parents and my worry that we wouldn’t be the same without the magic of summer.
“It’s kind of crazy to see you here,” I said, studying him. The usual freckles sprinkling his cheeks were faded, his creamy skin paler. Winter Wes. I’d never seen him before, but I liked him just as much as Summer Wes. I pulled him down the escalator into the crowd and stayed close, so as not to be separated. “So, how’s the weekend been? Your dad was okay with us hanging out today?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah. He’s busy with his girlfriend. He’s taking her to his Christmas work party this evening.” At my inquiring look, he continued, “I didn’t get an invite.”
I hummed. “Well, maybe they don’t want kids at the party.”
Wes shook his head. “The ‘whole family’ is invited,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I bet no one at work even knows he has a son.”
His shoulders slumped with the sting of rejection. I hated this cloud over what should have been a joyful day.
“Oh, Wes,” I said, as we passed a toy store with a line winding outside. “Was it at least okay to spend time with him?”
“I guess so? I mean, we mostly sat in front of the TV so we didn’t have to make conversation.”
“That…sounds survivable?” I said.
“Yes, I suppose.” He looked lost. “I don’t know how to feel about him. Even if he says he wants me around now, he still left us.”
Our conversation wasn’t fitting with the mall’s exuberant holiday cheer, so I pulled him towards the exit. The mall wasn’t the right place for us to be on our first day in my city together, anyway.
We needed to find a magic place, somewhere like Secret Island.
I dragged him down Queen Street, the lamps bright against the darkening sky. The red streetcar glided beside us, but I decided to walk. Wes was a windup toy, and the best way to uncoil him would be movement.
I looked longingly at Wes’s hand before tucking my fingers into my pockets to protect them from the frigid air.
“So, how’re you?” he asked.
I let him change the topic and updated him on my sister’s latest antics and how Ciji had started daycare and became a viral vector.
Tension slowly seeped out of his furrowed brows as we ambled towards Rooster Coffee. I’d developed a penchant for caffeine that year. It helped prop me up during the day when I was tired from messaging Wes all night. Meanwhile, he’d been drinking nasty instant coffee to stay awake for schoolwork after shifts at the grocery store. I wanted him to taste the good stuff.
“Can I get you a latte?” I asked him, gesturing inside. The soft mood music and warmth invited us in.
Wes grabbed a seat next to a shelf of plants with vines dancing on trellises. “I can grab it,” he offered. “My dad gave me some cash.”
“Nah. We don’t need to bring your dad out on this date,” I said. As soon the word date came out of my mouth, I bolted to join the line.
Was this a date? The question of what our relationship was loomed over me. It had been over three months since we’d kissed. What if I’d made this all up? I was scared to push the question now, especially because he seemed on edge.
I returned to the table with two ceramic cups and a plate-sized cookie to share. Wes stared intently at his phone, his long fingers tapping on the miniature keyboard. He briefly looked up. “Nice, chocolate chip, my favourite.”
“I know. Mine too,” I said, but he didn’t answer. I slid his mug towards him. “What’s up?” I prodded.
“Andrea and Jake checking in on me,” he explained, reaching for his latte, attention still fixed on the screen.
“Oh,” I said, as jealousy iced down my back. I shivered, taking a sip of my hot drink to fortify myself.
“Are you cold?” Wes asked.
I shook myself from my thoughts. “No. I’m fine.” We sat there in silence, the ambience of soft chatter and music at war with the spiralling in my mind. I barely tasted the cookie as I methodically scarfed down bites. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “Let’s play a game,” I said. “How about Truth or Dare?”
“What are you going to dare me?” he asked, putting his phone down. “Drink a triple espresso so I stay up all night?”
“A quadruple espresso,” I shot back before stilling my expression. “We could just do truths.”
He nodded. “Hit me.”
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, nudging his foot under the table.
Wes looked up, but his eyes appeared distant. “That this is a damn good cookie.” His mind was clearly somewhere else, but I needed out of this friendship purgatory. I needed to know where we stood.
“Wes, come on,” I said, imploring him back into the café with me. “I’m happy you’re here. I wish you lived here, even if you don’t, so I could see you every day.”
He was quiet. The cozy café music hummed while I waited for him to respond. Finally his answering smile broke through the clouds on his face, warming my chest like a sunbeam. “I’m sorry I’ve been in my head. You’re my favourite person in the world and I’ve been counting down the days to see you, Lia.”
“Really?” I said, breathless.
“I swear.” His eyes were intent on mine. “Now it’s my turn. Do you really believe in happy endings?”
“Of course I do,” I said, my neck burning.
He reached his hand over the table to take mine, and as our fingers linked together, I hoped hard that he was finally giving us a chance.
As we finished our treats, we spoke about everything. The books we’d been reading, the places we wanted to travel, the vague, shimmering hopes we had for the future.
After, we strolled to Spadina, dipping into Mother’s Dumplings to stuff our faces with soupy, hot deliciousness, laughing as I taught Wes how to use chopsticks. With Wes’s full focus on me, the cloud on the day lifted. On our way to the subway, my heart and belly full, he pulled me by our linked gloved hands into a side street. The faint glow of rainbow holiday lights brightened the evening.
“Where are we going?” I whispered breathlessly, but then he was nearing me, and all I could see was the soft white frost of his breath, his long lashes grey with snow.
“I want to talk,” Wes said.
A sharp shiver crawled up my spine. His hands came to my shoulders, holding me firm so I couldn’t avoid his resolved gaze. I couldn’t take rejection again.
“Lia,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you, about us, since the summer. You’ve been right all along.” He swallowed hard. “We’re more than just friends, we have been for a while. I don’t want to waste any more time. Do you still want me?”
I nodded quick and then there was the soft relief of his lips on mine. The first was chaste, a clumsy press, an exploration. My hands reached for the collar of his jacket, tugging him with me as I backed up against the brick wall. The next kiss was a tangle, his breath a harsh exhale that curled into my lungs.
All I could process was sensation. The cold against my back, the heat of Wes’s body pressed into my front, then again, the cold and heat of his lips. I shivered from the exquisite contrast.
He kissed me and I kissed him back, again and again, lips and tongue and teeth in the alleyway, the chatter of the city crowd mere metres away.
But I forgot about where we were. My focus was on Wes and my increasing need to envelop myself in his warmth. I was up on my toes pushing into him until I could feel our hearts thundering through the thick winter layers. I was finally getting what I wanted.
Wes pulled back, face flushed with fever, eyes wide and dark, his hands wrapped almost involuntarily in my hair. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
“I think this is just how we are,” I said, jerking at the sound of children giggling as they passed us.
He reluctantly let me go. “I wish I could spend the whole weekend with you.”
“I know,” I said, reaching up to wipe off my tinted ChapStick from his mouth. He caught my finger against his lips, and I couldn’t help but reach up again to brush my mouth greedily against his.
Wes let out an unsteady breath. “I don’t know if my dad will be home yet, do you want to come over?”
My face dropped. “I can’t,” I said. “This is as late as I can stay out.”
“Next time, then,” he said, fighting to keep his smile on. “Can’t believe I have to spend tomorrow with my dad.”
His clear misery tweaked my chest. “Wes, if coming to see your dad is so hard, then don’t. Don’t do this on account of me. We can still be together, even if we only see each other in the summer.”
“I want to see you more,” he said firmly, dragging the back of his hand against my cheek. “It can’t just be the summers between us.”
I nodded, happiness shooting through my grin. Wes was finally seeing what we were. Something as combustible as an explosive and as enduring as a diamond, even miles apart.