Chapter 29 Carefully Assorted Snacks
Carefully Assorted Snacks
Carmello
Skittles. Dill pickle–flavored sunflower seeds (Olivia’s favorite). Cry Baby sour bubble gum. Lay’s Wavy Original chips with French onion dip (my favorite). Spicy Nacho Doritos. Chili-roasted pistachios.
I sighed and said, “What am I going to do with you, O?”
She shrugged, her puffer coat slick still. I could tell she was trying to keep from shivering. “Love me forever, I hope.”
“Come here,” I said, pulling her inside and kissing her temple. We pressed our foreheads together after, took deep breaths. My heart ached more having her this close. “I’m happy you’re here early, but I don’t want you to get sick.”
She pushed away from me. “I have the immune system of an ostrich.”
I let out a short laugh. “Right,” I said. “Let me go get dressed, so I can warm you up.”
Her eyes flicked to my body like she hadn’t noticed it was mostly bare before now and a blush crept across her face.
I was turning eighteen in a few months, she’d just turned seventeen.
Before this day we’d been to second base, made out in movie theaters.
We liked to touch, but we weren’t in a rush for sex.
I could feel it then though, unspoken since we found out she was leaving but still making the energy between us thick.
The air crackled with nerves and what-ifs.
I know it was on both of our minds to have that first experience together before we never got the chance.
But I wouldn’t make her feel pressured for anything that she wasn’t naturally ready for, and I didn’t want her first time to feel forced.
Not with anyone. And especially not with me.
“Please be quick,” she said, something vulnerable in her voice. Like her heart was about to be split in two and she wanted to savor each second whole before the tear happened.
She had lived in Rhode Island for two years and thirteen days, much longer than any other state since her parents started their work as professional activists.
But their job here had finally come to an end.
They were needed in another city at the start of the week.
She told me all of this so casually a couple of days before that I thought maybe she wasn’t devastated the way I was.
But standing a few feet from me right then, I could see the heaviness in her features.
Instead of leaving, I pulled her close, her cheek pressed into my bare skin, and I hoped she could feel the pulsing muscle in my chest.
“I’ll be right back, O. I promise.”
“I knew this day would come,” she whispered. “I warned you not to fall in love.”
She did. But when “any day now” turned to months and a month became a year, I stopped listening to her. I was in love and time would stretch to forever and she’d never leave.
“I don’t know that I ever had a choice. You’re you.”
She pulled back just enough to look up into my eyes, and I saw tears gathered in hers. “And you’re you. My sweet Carmello. My favorite friend.” She was unable to keep her voice from cracking, but she did smile a little. “What am I going to do now that I didn’t listen to my own warning?”
“Love me forever, I hope.”
“Mm. I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.” She pulled me down for a kiss and we paused there like we could still time and keep each other if we tried hard enough.
***
Instead of our normal Saturday shifts at Celia’s, we spent this one curled up on the couch.
We watched reruns of The Simpsons and talked about things we wanted to do in the near future.
We were realistic kids, and I think we knew the likelihood of us doing those things together would be slim, so we didn’t make any promises.
Evening came too quick. I was dreading the moment when my mom got home from work and I’d have to let Olivia go.
She was sprawled out on top of me, our legs curled together, our stomachs rising and falling at the same pace like our breathing had synced, one of her hands dangling off the couch.
My fingers were in her hair near the temple, rubbing slow circles there, and she was quiet for so long I thought she fell asleep.
Already had the jokes in my head planned about her drooling on me.
But she sat up suddenly, bracing herself with her palms flat against my chest, and gazed down at me.
Some of my fantasies started like this, and I tried to stay as still as possible so she wouldn’t feel anything growing between us.
With her hair falling and covering us both, she said, “I’m really sad about one thing we won’t be able to do together. ”
My heart began to race. I swallowed. “What’s that?”
“Get tattoos,” she said.
I laughed. “You’re scared of needles.”
She kissed me quick, said, “Quiet, Carmello.”
“I’ll be quiet if you keep doing that,” I said.
She gave me one more. “I know what I said, but I’ve been secretly planning to make you hold my hand when I turned eighteen so we could do our first one together.”
Something about the shy way she said it sent heat straight to my stomach. I pushed hair from her face. “Because you want one or because you want to share something with me?”
Her eyes flicked to my mouth, and I think we both became aware of all the places our bodies were touching. “Does it matter?” she asked quietly.
I moved my thumb along her jaw. “It matters.”
“I’m not so sure it does,” she said, then she pushed up off of me to go search through her bag at the other side of the room.
I sat up and waited for her to surprise me.
When she did it was with a handful of permanent markers.
“Anyway, I thought maybe we could…” She trailed off and groaned dramatically. “Stop looking at me that way, Mello.”
“Like you’re cute for premeditating us giving each other fake tattoos?” I asked.
She cut her eyes. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not, O.” I called her over with a nod of my head. “Come here. Sit back down.”
It wasn’t like her to care what people thought.
To me, she was the type of person that put herself out there and said Accept me as I am or try your best to ignore me.
But when she dropped down beside me on the couch, I could tell she was having a hard time trusting that I didn’t think the idea was corny.
So, I placed the markers between us and pointed to my forearm.
“Will you do mine first? I want it here.”
I felt her relax then. “What do you want?”
“I’ve seen your drawing skills, so I’m thinking something really simple,” I said.
She laughed and shoved my shoulder. “I’m not that bad. How about a dragon?”
“Oof. Just try your best, okay?”
She chewed her bottom lip to keep from grinning, then went to work. When she was finished, I had flowers floating up my forearm and realized they looked exactly like the ones my mom arranged in vases. Olivia was slightly allergic to pollen, so she stayed away from them.
“Is it too girlie?” she asked. “Because the dragon would’ve been tough.”
I squeezed her thigh. “The pink-and-purple detailing is a little much, but I like it.”
She smiled, then asked me to stand up before stretching herself out over the couch, lifting her shirt and lowering her pants to expose an area of her hip. I felt my core heat again. My hormones went crazy. “Your turn,” she said. “I want a fox, right here.”
“I don’t get to pick it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You’re far better at drawing than I am, and…I don’t know if I’ll ever get a tattoo, for real.”
I didn’t ask her why she wanted a fox. I already knew how fascinated she’d become with them when her parents were doing work in the woods in Illinois.
Particularly with their hunting habits and the fact that they were usually more solitary where other canines liked to live in packs.
Your spirit animal, I’d usually tease. But this day, I just dropped to my knees beside her and took my time drawing her a red fox.
Once it was finished, I smoothed my hand over the skin and placed a single kiss there.
When I felt her shiver, I moved away and placed the cap back on the marker.
She looked down at it and a small startled sound came from her mouth.
“If I ever get brave enough for a tattoo, this is exactly what I want.” I smiled and started to pull down her shirt, but she put her hand over mine.
“Take a picture for me. I want to be able to show the artist what it should look like.”
It hit me hard then.
We were making real plans for a future without each other.
I loved her. And I knew. I knew. I knew time would eventually pull us apart, but it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.
And I wasn’t supposed to be sad that she didn’t mention coming back here for me one day or ask if I’d meet her wherever she was in the world for a tattoo when she turned eighteen.
This was Olivia, and the Joneses never made promises they couldn’t keep.
That would be “unfair” in their line of work with people devastated all over the world from natural disasters and man-made ones too.
I tried not to let the feelings show on my face while I took the pictures for her.
She was happy, still lying on her back looking at them, and I thought about her going to another school and meeting someone else to get tattoos with.
She’s the one who brought up us being realistic and not making promises, and I knew part of her was excited to get back to traveling the world with her parents.
When she first moved here, she’d swoon over it with Paula, saying There’s always another friend waiting, a place to love.
I knew I was the opposite. I didn’t love very easily.
Maybe because it felt like there wasn’t a lot of room in my brain or my heart for how much space the people and places I did love took up.
But I made myself concentrate on the moment, the way it felt watching her smile.
I turned around and leaned my back against the couch. Her hand fell over my shoulder, and I kissed each of her scarred fingertips.
She shifted on her side. Said, “I’ll miss you, Mello.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes. “I’ll miss you too, O.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she sat up and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “The sun is setting,” she said. “I have to leave soon. But I want my first time to be with you.”
There was clarity and evenness in her tone. I believed it, but I still turned my head to search her face. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
***
An hour later, my mom came home and found us fully clothed but cuddled on the couch.
We were still floating after what we did.
Small touches and sighs. My body was buzzing.
I wanted to do it again. But it was time to pretend our day did not include sex, which was hard because my mom liked to make the kind of direct eye contact that felt like she was looking into your soul.
I avoided her gaze as much as possible. Olivia was blushing but talking a mile a minute, and I was thankful that she was an expert at distracting without even meaning to.
We took her home that night, and my mom waited in the car while I said goodbye.
“Let’s pretend this isn’t the last time we’re together in Providence.
Okay?” Something about her choice of words sounded like she wanted to make a promise that we’d try to make it work, but all I said was, “Okay,” because I knew she wouldn’t, and I wanted to protect myself too.
So when we kissed, I tried to catalog everything in case I never felt her in my arms again.
From the way my fingertips felt while holding her face to her soft lips against mine.
How cold it was, the dim light above her porch, how fast my heart was beating. Her forehead pressed against mine.
***
My mom was silent when I finally got in the car. I turned up the radio. Neither of us said a word to each other on the way home. But right when we parked, Olivia called me. I wondered if she forgot something at our house, or if maybe she wanted to say she loved me again.
“Carmello,” she breathed, “we must’ve manifested something on my porch because your mom talked to my parents about letting me stay with you while I finish the school year.
I’ll get to graduate with Vero, and maybe we can all travel together after, but we don’t have to say goodbye, Mello. I’m staying.”
I turned to my mom, throat thick, thinking it was one of her tricks. But her mouth was set in a straight line. Did she really do this for me?
“Though I reserve the right to chicken out about a real tattoo when I turn eighteen,” Olivia continued, laughing a little.
I wondered if there was some hesitation in the sound, something uncertain hidden in her words.
Was she truly happy to not go off with her parents for new adventures?
She hadn’t mentioned fighting with them about staying another year so she could graduate in Rhode Island and now here she was willing to separate from them to stay here for that. And for me.
Doubts circled my brain, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask if this was what she really wanted because I might risk her rethinking her decision. I wanted her to stay. I was happy we’d get to have more firsts together, even if they weren’t tattoos. That’s what I told her before we hung up.
Afterward, my mom looked me dead in the eyes and said, “She’ll sleep in the spare room. No more sex in my house.”