Chapter 17 Sea Caves
sea caves
Dark, hidden spaces, waiting to be found. Preferably by someone with snacks and emotional competence.
The air’s thick with our slow exhales. My fingers are clenched around the heels of my shoes. His thoughts are so loud that I’ve heard them before he says them.
“Her mum is your mum.”
My shoes fall from my fingers to the floor.
“You also lost . . .”
I bow my head.
It feels a little melodramatic, and I want it to be. The more I can act here, the less it seems real.
I siiiiigh.
“Stop that.”
He scoops up my shoes and curls cool fingers around my wrist. He tugs me across the foyer and behind the desk, into a chair.
He picks off the gravel, dusts my soles, slips on my shoes.
He does up the laces. Only the light at the door is left on, and the late afternoon sun is banished by shut curtains in the open rehearsal room.
Though the space feels bigger than usual, in the shadows, I feel only like weight and movement; little definition, little real. It’s . . . good. He can’t read my face.
I ignore that I can still read his. Every shifting line stamps into my memory. Concern. Hurt. Worry. Curiosity. Sympathy. Comfort. A fierce vow of protection henceforth.
“I’m fine. Truly.”
He double-knots. Hard. He’ll be a rock for me to lean on. Promise.
I huff. “But will you ever be one I can kiss?”
His gaze stutters, drops. His lips press. Stop deflecting. He looks up again: I can still care. Let me?
He raises a hand to my cheek.
I frown.
He hesitates, then clasps, and pulls my forehead down to meet his. The touch is warm, a little clammy. There’s a frisson of electricity. Strands of his hair slide between mine.
If he thinks this is consoling, this is comfort, he’s finally got something wrong. This is cruel. This is closeness with the promise of impending absence.
Just like Beth, like them, one day he too will be gone.
Outside, leaking into the studio, a kid is hollering about dolphins.
I pull back with a soft laugh.
I look into his eyes.
And say, “Feed me.” And then, “Hot chips, burgers.” And then, “You pay.”
A dry, raised brow and tender twitch at his lips. “Don’t I always?”