Chapter 39
It was getting hotter in the cabin. They needed so few words, Killian and Felicia, hardly any at all, maybe because there weren’t any words to describe what had befallen them.
That was how Killian thought of it sometimes.
It was as if his tongue didn’t know what to do, nor the rest of his body.
As if she had poisoned him. He couldn’t tell her so, but that’s what it felt like—she was moving inside him like a foreign substance in his heart, his head, in between his legs.
He could feel himself transforming, or splitting.
Cleaving. Maybe that’s what love does to you. Cleaves you in two.
She was lying quietly beside him now, and with her eyes closed as if he’d drained her. The lightbulb flickered overhead. With her eyes still closed, she said:
“I might love you, Killian.”
His body went perfectly still and he felt absolutely nothing in his chest, nothing but a peace like unrippled waters.
He would build her a house with his own two hands. A house with a garden. That’s what he dreamed of. It would be a simple house, which pained him, but he would make it work. Even if he had to force the state of everything to fall into line, he would do it.
“Same, about you,” he said.
She opened her eyes. “Have you told him?”
“Not yet.”
“When are you going to? It’s better he hears it from you than finds out some other way.”
“He’s going to leave this summer anyway,” said Killian. “It doesn’t matter.”
Felicia stroked his back. Killian saw shadows on the walls; everything that had happened had struck fear in him. Down to the bone.
“Then you might as well get it over with. It’s better that way. What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
—
Felicia was smart, not at all like Killian. More like Sander, really, but without the need for books. Sander’d always had books to help; she never had.
Maybe Sander was the one who deserved her, but she chose Killian. If it was a choice—he wasn’t sure, because of the way he thought about it: that this had befallen them. Like a force greater than either of them. Whatever it was, it had started one afternoon at school.
He had just found out that Lundstrom had given her a VG—the second-best grade you could get—on her essay about Ellen Key, and she wanted to celebrate.
She loved to celebrate things, she told Killian.
In fact, you could celebrate anything, especially life’s everyday moments: your last day at a summer job, a successful driving lesson, that you had sex or got your period, that fall break had begun.
People didn’t celebrate enough, was Felicia’s firm view.
“Okay,” Killian said hesitantly, gazing around. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“I’m happy I got a good grade and you’re the person sitting closest to me right now.” She looked around the empty common room. “I mean, sort of. I guess we’re the only ones here.”
He considered this. “So now you’re going to celebrate your grade?”
“Yes, of course.”
That same night, they ran into each other in Oskarstrom, at the store. They were each holding a bag in front of the bulk candy.
“Celebrating, huh?” Killian asked.
She grinned and plunged the scoop into the bin of gummy Ferraris. “I’m going to a movie with Alice and Isabelle. They asked me to pick up some candy.”
Killian peered into the bag and recoiled. “What kind of sicko are you?”
“What?”
“You don’t have any chocolate! Only sour binkies and crap, that’s grandma candy. I’ll have to help you out.”
“Girls can’t eat chocolate; it gives us zits.”
Killian stared at her, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard.
“What,” she continued. “You didn’t know that?”
“But you don’t have any zits.”
Felicia regarded him with something like pity, as if she was astounded that he didn’t understand how the world worked.
“Because I don’t eat chocolate, duh,” she said slowly.
Killian didn’t say anything for a moment; he seemed lost in thought. “But you’ve tried it before, right?”
And that’s how he made her laugh for the very first time.
—
Now she was lying there beside him; she was his, and she was still all warm. He gently rested a hand on her belly.
“You have to tell him,” she said again. “Or do you want me to?”
“No. No, I’ll do it. But, you know, he likes you…or, I mean, all guys like you, basically. Even Jakob.”
She was so frail, so vulnerable, in all her strength. He watched her rib cage rise and fall.
“Isn’t that weird?” she said.
“Not really,” Killian said, feeling his hunger for her awaken again, deep in his belly. “Mikael liked you too.”
When Killian said his name, she stiffened. She sat up, gazed down at him. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.” He cast his gaze down. “I…”
Just then they both heard a noise outside. They looked at the window. Someone was coming.