SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2023 #2
“I can’t believe you stayed outside all night waiting for him. You must be exhausted.” What Beverley really wants to say is, You must be crazy, but she bites her tongue, as she’s become so good at doing. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit.”
Alice smiles at her mother and nods. “Yeah, I think I will.” She turns to Polly. “Any plans this afternoon?”
Polly looks up from her phone. “The girl I met at the Labor Day barbecue texted and asked if I wanted to go for a swim this afternoon with some other girls before they close their pool for the winter.”
“Sounds fun,” Alice says. “Just be home for dinner.” Polly gives her a thumbs-up on her way out of the room.
“Looks like Quinn is still frosty after last night,” Beverley says. “Have the two of you spoken?”
Alice frowns and shakes her head. “We haven’t had a chance. What with Geoff arriving back so suddenly.”
“Even if you do apologize, I’m sure he’ll make you pay for it for days to come. That’s just what kids do.”
“Right,” Alice says with a deep sigh. “Anyway, right now I’m just so glad that Geoff’s home. I can deal with Quinn’s backlash later. It’s not like I’m not used to it. It’s not that I don’t deserve it.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. You have your family for that.” She laughs at her own joke and then gives her daughter a gentle push. “Now, go get some rest. You look exhausted.” Surprisingly, Alice listens and shuffles off in the direction of her bedroom.
Beverley puts her coffee cup in the dishwasher and leaves through the back door for her own quarters. Outside, she notices Geoff across the yard at the opening in the trees. Standing perfectly still, his arms dangling at his sides, he is staring fixedly into the woods.
“Haven’t you had enough of those woods?” she calls out to him.
He turns slowly, looking as though he’s in a trance. “Those woods are life-changing,” he calls out to her.
“Is that so?”
“You’ll see,” he replies, smiling widely.
Polly
Polly leaves the table right after dinner because she doesn’t want to risk missing Gray if he comes by.
It’s starting to get dark outside, but she leaves her curtains open, and her window.
Why don’t you just put a neon sign outside that flashes Vacancy?
She laughs out loud, then, as always, wonders if it’s her imagining the funny quip her sister would say if she were here right now or if her sister is actually being a bitch from beyond.
The small tap of a pebble against the window distracts her from the thought and she’s up off her bed in an instant. She sees his familiar shadowy figure standing in the trees and climbs outside to meet him.
“Hey,” Gray says, stepping into the light coming from her bedroom windows.
“Hey,” she says, acting as nonchalant as possible despite the buzzing in her veins. She really cannot believe the effect this guy has on her. “You missed the party my parents had last night. I stole a bottle of wine to share with you but…” She trails off.
“Right,” he says, looking as though he’d entirely forgotten the invitation she’d given him.
“The party.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a joint and bends down to light it.
“I’m not really one for parties,” he explains after exhaling a thick plume of smoke. He passes the joint to Polly.
“Yeah, well. I didn’t expect you to, like, hang out with my parents and their friends. I thought we’d have a party-for-two kind of thing.” As soon as she says it, she feels like a total loser. She takes a long inhale from the joint to shut herself up.
“Now, that kind of party I wouldn’t have minded,” he says, lowering his eyelids so that he looks as though he’s picturing it right then.
Polly wants to tackle him to the ground.
“I looked for your parents at the party.” She hands the joint back to him. “Or, I mean, looked for people who I thought could be your parents.”
He shakes his head, and a solemness crosses his face. “My parents don’t go to parties.”
“Oh.” Polly’s not sure what else to say. She gets the feeling that she shouldn’t push.
“I have something for you,” he says, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls out a heart-shaped rock and hands it to her. “I found this in the woods.”
She stares down at the rock with wide eyes and parted lips, as though he’s just handed her a diamond.
“That’s so sweet.” The stone is warm and almost seems to be pulsing in her palm.
She can’t tell if it’s because she’s high or because she’s excited that he saw something heart-shaped and thought of her.
She looks up at him and nods toward her window.
“Come inside.” He surprises her when he shrugs and says okay.
She was sure he was going to refuse like last time.
Finally, they’re getting somewhere. Inside, she turns on her LED lights and turns off the ceiling light and then pulls out her phone to play some music.
She panics for a second about what to play. No random Apple playlist will suffice.
“Any music requests?” she asks, thinking it’s safer to have him choose.
“Got any Portishead?”
She has no idea who Portishead is but does not admit that; instead she does a quick search for their Essentials playlist. She’s not at all surprised when her room is filled with an otherworldly female voice accompanied by a soft beat and a high string melody that makes her feel like she’s sunk into another dimension.
“You have a cool room,” Gray says as he slowly walks around.
She sits down on the end of her bed and watches him, curious to see what he does away from the safety of the shadows.
Most boys would rush to sit beside her on the bed and get right to it—not him.
He’s picking up the perfume bottles on her dresser to smell each one before placing it back.
Next, he leans in to get a closer look at the collage of photos on the wall that she made of her and her sister.
Tapping on one and turning to her he asks, “That’s you?”
She nods, then realizes her mistake and shakes her head. “No, sorry, that’s my twin sister. That’s Lucy. My God, now I can’t even tell us apart.”
He squints and studies her for a few seconds, then looks back at the photo and then back at her. “Yeah, you guys are identical,” he says, sounding slightly in awe.
Turning away from the photos he moves over to her bookshelf, examining the knickknacks.
Watching him moving slowly through her space, she thinks she’s never been so attracted to a person.
The way he takes care with each thing he touches, examining it thoroughly, learning her through the décor of her room.
He runs his finger along the spines of the Harry Potter books that line the shelf. They’re the only books on there. “Library a little limited here,” he says, shooting her a smile.
“My sister and I read them together. We were huge Harry Potter fans. That’s the only reason I put them on the shelf. I’ve read other books, you know.”
Gray nods as though it makes perfect sense and then finally comes to sit down beside her on the end of the bed. “Tell me about your sister,” he says, easing himself back onto the bed so that his legs hang off the end and the rest of him is propped up on his elbows.
He moves like liquid, Polly thinks. He looks up at her from under his thick, dark lashes, waiting patiently for her answer.
“She was amazing. Everything I wasn’t. At times it was hard to live in her shadow.
” Gray gently pulls on her arm so that she rolls back on the bed beside him.
“She died in a car accident,” Polly explains, her voice flat, avoiding eye contact with him, staring up at the blue LED lights instead, thinking how garish and cheesy they seem and how the music feels as though it’s found its way right into her soul and pulled her sorrow from within to echo it back in song.
“I’m sorry,” he says, so softly she’s not sure if she imagined it.
He puts a hand on her face and gently moves it so that she’s looking at him.
“That makes me really sad.” And he does look sad—authentically so.
Not the put-on kind that most kids her age get when they find out she has a dead twin sister.
Sad like a person who has suffered their own sorrow.
They stare at each other’s sadness for several seconds, and just as she’s starting to worry that his eyes are like bottomless green pools that she might never find her way out of, he surprises her by saying, “I’d like to kiss you. If that’s okay?”
The question turns the weight of the sorrow they were sharing into flames as light as air that lick the inside of her body. She thinks this may be the hottest thing she’s ever experienced—asking first. Most guys she’s been with just start pawing at her and one thing leads to another.
She gives her permission by leaning in and putting her lips on his.
They’re cold but soft, the softest she’s ever felt.
He puts a hand on the back of her neck and strokes her hairline with his thumb, sending shivers all through her.
The kiss is slow and sensual with him moving in and out of it, torturing her with its coyness.
When she can’t take any more of it, she digs one hand into his hair to keep him in place, pushing into the kiss deeper, filling his mouth with her tongue.
He smells and tastes like the forest—like tree bark and pine needles and fresh moss.
He runs his hand up the side of her body and she grinds up against his, feeling his hardness even through their clothes.
She reaches down and cups it and he groans softly.
So you are like other boys, she thinks with satisfaction.
She moves her hand up to undo his pants, but he pulls back suddenly.
He glances out the window with fear in his eyes, as though somebody is watching.
“I should go,” he says, then gently but firmly removes her hand from his hair.