Chapter 16
C h a p t e r S i x t e e n
K i a n G r i m m
The wind bites at my finger tips through my mittens and nips at my wet lips. I take another pull from my cigarette, letting it ease my nerves as I watch the scene in front of me unfold.
He pulls open the door for her, the bell loud enough that I can hear it from my position across the street. The smile on his face makes my insides churn and a languid chuckle leaves me. He thinks courtesy makes him harmless but really it makes him easy to remove from the picture.
The plum coat she’s wearing makes her red cheeks look much more flushed than they already are and is wrapped around her waist tightly, showing off her curves. Her silky black hair is hidden beneath the fur hoodie and scarf as if she doesn’t want the wind touching it.
“Jealous?” I turn to my right, surprised at the familiar voice. “Don’t act surprised, it's the holidays after all.”
“Just the ginger I wanted to see.” The smoke that flows from my mouth as I speak spirals behind me. “I’d never be jealous. Jealousy implies that I’m missing something that isn’t mine.”
“The only ginger you know.” He plucks the cigarette from my hand and holds it up to his lips. “I’m pretty sure she has no idea she’s yours considering she’s with Pimble now.”
If it was anyone else taking my cig it would've pissed me off, especially after witnessing my little swan with Alistair the Pimble once again. His name pronounced in my head even comes out with disgust. A boy who is too perfect, a boy with a nickname that means weak.
“So, you’re stalking people now?” He nods towards their figures, his eyes locked on the back of Sylvia’s head in confusion. “Who is that anyway?”
“It’s not stalking if she doesn’t know.” I follow behind them, my boots crunching in the snow that buries my town.
Hayden shrugs and passes my smoke back to me, matching my step.
“Her name is Sylvia. She’s a curious little thing.
Don’t you see the lost look in her eyes? It calls to me for some reason.”
“Hmm…sounds like an obsession to me, similar to how you act when you take those pictures.” He shivers. I don’t know if it's from the cold or to exaggerate the chills he gets from my words but I don’t care.
“Maybe.” He chuckles at my words and I nudge him.
Who knew I’d miss him? The only person I think I’ve ever truly cared about.
“What have you been up to in the big city of Lainville?” I ask.
“Not much. Lainville Academy isn’t bad.”
“Still studying business?” I look at him this time.
His ginger hair is pushed back with gel and a white sweater frames his slim body. He has a brown leather belt looped through tan khaki pants and brown boots to match. He looks much more mature than he did before he left.
“Yeah, it’s hard but it’ll be worth it when I’m done,” he admits and I agree with him.
It was better than staying in this small town.
“How’s your relationship with Lori? I know she’s probably complaining about the long distance.” Don’t get me wrong it's not that I dislike Lori, she's just a bit much. She talks a lot, smiles too much, and my nose hates her floral perfume.
“It’s good, not much going on there either. I should probably go see her.” He gazes at me as if I’ll cry when he leaves and I merely shrug.
“Go right ahead Hays. I’m quite busy as you can see.” I nod towards Sylvia and Pimble as they make their way up the steps of her porch.
“See you Ki, be good,” he says as he shakes his head. A wicked smirk forms on my lips and he whistles. “That boy got it bad.”
I throw him the middle finger as he spins around and walks back towards town.
When they go inside and I feel the snow beneath my boots has melted, I walk around the side of the home and throw my cigarette down. I look up at the terrace I have long memorized and begin climbing. I go slow that way I don’t trip and ruin the fun.
Adrenaline warms me and I no longer feel the wind biting at my skin or the frost bite in the tips of my fingers—the thought of seeing Sylvia is enough for me.
I make sure to avoid the creaky boards as I climb.
A few are light brown, meaning they are new and sturdy.
As I reach the top I pull myself over the ledge, the wood wobbles but manages to stay intact as I climb over.
I crouch as I settle on the hardened snow, she’s opened the curtains and I can see straight inside. She leans over Pimble with a stack of newspaper in her hand, her ass facing me but I can’t see much with the long black dress covering her legs.
Those same newspapers from the train.
He says something and his hands move with his mouth as she sits across from him, listening earnestly.
I pull my camera from around my neck and zoom in on her.
The white snow is harmony against the black she has on and a contrast to her pale skin making her look unearthly.
I take the picture; examining how tight her shoulders are and the look she gets when she’s not really there. She’s somewhere dark and familiar.
A place she can’t forgive.
I pull a smoke from my back pocket and light it. I take a drag from it as my eyes narrow, studying the lost swan in front of me.
“What the hell is she showing you, Pimple.” I mumble with the cigarette between my lips.
He leans in when she stops talking and flicks through the papers on the ground. His gaze goes from confusion to interest and a flutter of anger coils through me. He grows that same look teachers or parents give you when they think curiosity makes them brave.
That never goes well.
Sylvia's gaze settles on something right beside where I’m peeking from and my eyes shift to her cat who’s curled up on a chair. I can see the same reflection in her eyes from three hours away. In that town all those poor people stay.
A lot of people think that distance makes you safer; their shit lives, the stories they don’t want the world to know. They create enough space to pretend the past can’t reach them if they go fast enough.
I flick ash into the snow and crush it underneath my boot.
Whatever it is, it can't be good. A kid like Pimble lacks strength, mentally and physically.
It might not pose much danger for her; she appears to be the kind to dance at the edge of danger and get away with it, but him—he’s too disposable. They’ll get rid of him and his body will scream too loud. He won’t be there when shit goes left and he’ll get my little swan killed.
I take the last drag of my cigarette and for a second it blurs the window, their forms turning into two people who may be in love. Yet, illusions have always been generous, lending hands to people that don’t deserve it.
He pulls her into a hug and that flutter of anger in me coils tighter.
I fling the cigarette behind me and stand to my full height.
Her eyes catch me and a look of horror frames her frozen.
Proximity doesn’t equal permission and I never gave her permission to touch other men, just enough space to enjoy his company.
My jaw clenches and a sadistic grin lifts the corner of my mouth. It appears I wasn’t strict enough with her.
I turn around and start climbing down the way I came up. The snow starts to thicken even more and I make my mind up then.
Three hours away, Little Swan?
Let's see if you're ready to face your fears because I’ll be one step behind you and I feel sorry for the person who makes you cry.
The lights in my bedroom are low so I can see each detail of my little swan developing. She’s frozen in the frame, pixel by pixel. I slip the photo into the enlarger as I adjust the focus, the grain just enough to make her green eyes the first thing people notice.
“They’ve already started putting the banners up,” Hayden says from across my room.
He’s laid back on my bed, gaze stuck to the ceiling as he flicks a lighter open and shut as if he needs the noise to think. He’s always had that awful habit that I learned to ignore. If not I’ll be carving my ears off my own head with a knife.
“For what?” I mumble as I nudge the frame.
“Macy’s Thanksgiving parade is coming through town next week. The whole town is going to smell like wax and incense.” He coughs as if he can smell it already.
I hum noncommittally and the shadow on her cheeks darken as I add in depth. For some reason I always do this exact step, it takes away the truth she’s hiding and gives her a new expression.
“Are you going to photograph that or are you too…focused?” A light chuckle leaves him and I see him staring at me from my peripheral view.
Focused? Funny.
I switch to another photo, one with her walking down the sidewalk—her coat pulled tight to her chin as the wind picks up her silk hair.
“I might shoot the parade,” I say. “Depends.”
He shuffles on the bed to sit up. “Depends on what? Her?” I can hear the smirk on his lips.
Control is in the detail so I reframe, focusing on her face and a tad bit of the world around her that makes her beautiful.
“She’s interesting, Hays, that’s all.” I finally admit because I know he’ll only get on my nerves if I don’t answer.
His laugh is disbelieving and he topples over. “You’ve been interested before but this is different. Come on, you think I’d believe that? Your best friend since pencil school. You’ve never obsessed over something this long. Not ever long enough to draw your attention away from the world.”
Obsessing over something to the point I’ve lost discipline should be concerning but I disregard it. I straighten the photo of her back out and align the street the way I want it to sit. A look of grief sits in her downturned eyes and I frown.
“She doesn’t belong in this town and she’s definitely dead inside. Can’t you see it?” I say and stop what I'm doing.
“I guess but that doesn’t answer my question.” He shrugs as I turn to face him properly.