Nocte

  “This is incredible,” Dare decides, walking around and examining everything. “No wonder it’s your favorite place.” He moves lithely, casually. Easily.

  In fact, being with him is easy. As each moment passes, I feel less panicked and terrified about Finn, and more comfortable with Dare.

  Even though he’s clearly sophisticated, he’s still as comfortable as my favorite pair of jeans. It’s like…he doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t ridicule me. He simply accepts things as I offer them and doesn’t push me for more.

  While he kneels to examine a pool, I examine him. He’s wearing dark clothes tonight, dark jeans and a black hoodie. The graceful way he moves makes even a hoodie seem elegant. He’s graceful and refined, nothing like the boys were in school.

  It’s refreshing. And knee-weakening.

  He turns to me, his gaze dark and curious.

  “How did your brother upset you?”

  The panic comes back to me in a rush, and for a minute, I stare past Dare, out to sea.

  “We’re twins. He wants to go to a different college, but I don’t agree. He needs me.”

  Dare stares at me, trying to figure me out. I see the wheels turning. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt before he can say anything.

  “You don’t understand,” I tell him preemptively. “My brother has an issue. A mental issue. He’s medicated, but he needs me.”

  If I meant to scare him, and I don’t know if I did or didn’t, it doesn’t work. Because Dare just nods, unfazed. “That’s commendable,” he tells me. “That you care so much.”

  My head snaps back. “Of course I do,” I snap. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s my brother.”

  Dare smiles and holds up his hands. “Calm down,” he says soothingly. “I was just making an observation. Not everyone cares that much, family or not.”

  I stare at him. “That’s a sad thought. Why are you out here anyway? In the dark? Alone?” I throw his words from earlier back at him in an effort to change the subject. He smiles in appreciation of my effort.

  “Because I was bored. And I thought I could see the stars better from here.”

  He’s right. We definitely can. Up on the mountain, the trees block them.

  And he likes the stars? Is it possible for him to get more perfect?

  He points upward.

  “That’s Orion’s belt. And that over there…. That’s Andromeda. I don’t think we can see Perseus tonight.” He pauses and stares down at me. “Do you know their myth?”

  His voice is calm and soothing and as I listen to him, I let myself drift away from my current problems and toward him, toward his dark eyes and full lips and long hands.

  I nod, remembering what I’d learned about Andromeda last year in Astrology. “Yes. Andromeda’s mother insulted Poseidon, and she was condemned to die by a sea monster, but Perseus saved her and then married her.”

  He nods, pleased by my answer. “Yes. And now they linger in the skies to remind young lovers everywhere of the merits of undying love.”

  I snort. “Yeah. And then they had a corny movie made for them that managed to butcher several different Greek myths at once.”

  Dare’s lip twitches. “Perhaps. But maybe we can overlook that due to the underlying message of eternal love.” His expression is droll and I can’t decide if he’s being serious or just trying to be ironic or something, because the irony is lost on you.

  “That’s bullshit, you know,” I tell him, rolling the metaphorical dice. “Undying love, I mean. Nothing is undying. People fall out of love or their chemistry dies or maybe they even die themselves. Any way you look at it, love always dies eventually.”

  I should know. I’m Funeral Home Girl. I see it all the time.

  Dare looks down at me incredulously. “If you truly believe that, then you believe that death controls us, or maybe even circumstance. That’s depressing, Calla. We control ourselves.”

  He seems truly bothered and I stare at him, at once nervous that I’ve disappointed him and certain that I’m right.

  I am the one surrounded by it all the time, after all…by death and bad circumstances. I am the one whose mother just died and I know that the world continues to turn like nothing ever happened.

  “I don’t necessarily believe that death controls us,” I amend carefully. “But you can’t argue that it wins in the long run. Every time. Because we all die, Dare. So death wins, not love.”

  He snorts. “Tell that to Perseus and Andromeda. They’re immortal in the sky.”

  I snort right back. “They’re also not real.”

  Dare stares at me, willing me to see his point of view and I’m suddenly confused about how we started out talking about love and are now talking about death. Leave it to me to work that into conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer. “I guess it’s a hazard of living where I do. Death is always present.”

  “Death is big,” Dare acknowledges. “But there are things bigger than that. If there’s not, then this is all for nothing. Life is worth nothing. Putting yourself out there, and taking chances and all that. All of that stuff is bollocks if it can just disappear in the end.”

  I shrug and look away. “I’m sorry. I just believe in the right here and right now. That’s what we know and that’s what we can count on. And I don’t like to think about the end.”

  Dare looks back at the sky, but he’s still pensive. “You seem rather pessimistic today, Calla-Lily.”

  I swallow hard, because I do sound like a shrew. A jaded, ugly, bitter person.

  “My mom died a few weeks ago,” I tell him and the words scrape my heart. “It’s still hard to talk about.”

  He pauses and nods, as though everything makes sense now, as though he’s sorry because everyone always is. “Ah. I see. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open a wound.”

  I shake my head and look away because my eyes are watering and it’s embarrassing. Because God. Am I ever going to be able to think about it without crying?

  “It’s ok. You didn’t know,” I answer. “And you’re right. I’m probably jaded. Being surrounded by death all the time… well, I guess it’s made me ugly.”

  Dare studies me, hard, his eyes glittering in the light of the driftwood fire which reflects purple flames into his black bottomless depths.

  “You’re not ugly,” he tells me, his voice oh-so-beautiful. “Not by a long, long shot.”

  His words make me lose my train of thought. Because of the way he’s looking at me right now… like I’m beautiful, like he knows me, when I’m really just Calla and he doesn’t.

  “I’m sorry I’m so emotional tonight,” I tell him. “I’m not usually like this. It’s just… there’s a lot going on.”

  “I see that,” he answers quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

  You can call me Calla-Lily again. Because it seems intimate and familiar, and it makes me feel good. But I shake my head. “I wish. But no.”

  He smiles. “Ok. Can I walk you back up to the house at least?”

  My heart leaps for a second, but the idea of facing Finn right now isn’t one I enjoy. So I shake my head.

  “I’m not really ready to go back yet,” I tell him regretfully. Because it’s the truth.

  He shrugs. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

  My heart thunders in my ears as I pretend that I’m not thrilled with that. We sit in the sand, so close that I can feel the warmth emanating from his body, so close that whenever he moves, his shoulder brushes mine. I shouldn’t get so much pleasure from that, from the accidental touches, from his warmth.

  But I do.

  We sit in such a way for an hour.

  In silence.

  Staring at the ocean and the sky and the stars.

  No one has ever felt comfortable like this to me before, with silence that isn’t awkward. No one but Finn. Until now.

  “Did you know that the Italian serial killer Leonarda Cianciulli was famous for turning her victims into tea cakes and serving them to guests?”
I ask absently, still staring out at the water.

  Dare doesn’t miss a beat. “No. Because that’s an odd thing to know.”

  I feel the laughter bubbling up in me, threatening to erupt.

  “I agree. It is.” It’s something my brother shared with me yesterday.

  Dare smiles. “I’ll be sure to work that in at the next party I attend.”

  I can’t help but smile now. “I’m sure it’ll go over well.”

  He chuckles. “Well, it’s a conversation starter, for sure.”

  I don’t move because I sort of want to stay here forever, even though the dampness of the sand has leached into my jeans and now my butt is wet.

  But even though I don’t want this to end, the darkness is so black now that it swallows us up. It’s getting late.

  I sigh.

  “I’ve got to go back.”

  “Okay,” Dare answers, his voice low in the night, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I detected regret in it. Maybe he wants to stay here longer, too.

  He helps me to my feet, and then keeps his hand on my elbow as we walk over the driftwood and through the tidal pools and up the trail. It’s that thing that real men do, the guiding a woman across the room thing. It’s gentlemanly and chivalrous and my ovaries might explode from it because it’s intimate and familiar and sexy.

  When we get to the house, he removes his hand and I immediately feel the absence of his warmth.

  He looks down at me, a thousand things in his eyes that I can’t define but want to.

  “Good night, Calla. I hope you feel better now.”

  “I do,” I murmur.

  And as I pad up the stairs, I realize that I actually do.

  For the first time in six weeks.

  8

  OCTO

  Finn

  JumpJumpJumpJumpJumpJumpJumpJumpYouFuckingCowardJump.

  “Hey,” Calla’s voice is soft from my doorway.

  I yank away from my open bedroom windows as though the sills are on fire. I’d seen Calla walk up the path with him, but I hadn’t realized she was already back in the house.

  “Hey,” I stammer, as I move far away from the windows and try to tune out the fucking voices that taunt me. “About earlier. Are you mad?”

  Calla sinks onto my bed, sitting on her hands. She stares at me hesitantly.

  “No. I’m just worried. You know why.”

  I do. My journal. I also know that she still hadn’t ratted me out to my dad. Because she knows my deepest fear… of being locked away.

  YouDeserveChainsChainChainsChains.

  I grit my teeth.

  “Don’t be worried, Cal. I’ve got this.”

  She takes a breath so shaky that I can hear it from here. “This is the thing. I haven’t told dad about the things I read because I’m taking it on myself to make sure you’re fine. That you stay safe. That you get better. If I’m not with you to do my job and everything blows up, then that’s on me. And I don’t want to live with the guilt of something like that. I carry enough guilt already.”

  My heart feels like a concrete block as I stare at her vulnerability.

  “Calla, mom’s accident wasn’t your fault. You know that.”

  Her eyes are so bleak as she stares back at me. “Do I?”

  “We’ve told you a hundred times, Cal. You called. She didn’t have to pick up the phone. It was raining so hard. She should’ve let it go to voicemail. That was her choice. Not yours. She crossed the center-line. Not you.”

  Calla closes her eyes. “Either way. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if something happened to you. Do you understand?”

  I swallow hard. “Yes. But I promise. I’ll be ok.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Promise?”

  “Repromissionem,” I assure her, my entire being forcing out the lie. It comes out sounding like truth which is fine because honestly, I don’t know the true answer to this question.

  Sound normal.

  She rolls her eyes. “Again. Two syllables are easier.”

  I smile. “What did you need, anyway?”

  Her eyes widen, then narrow. “I just wanted to check on you. I hate it when you seem off. It makes me nervous.”

  “Don’t be. Nervous, I mean,” I tell her. “It’s ok.”

  She nods. “Ok.”

  But she isn’t convinced and there’s nothing I can do to make her that way. I know her better than the back of my hand, so I know that.

  “I just wanted to say goodnight,” she tells me finally. “And that I love you. And that if you change your mind, even if it’s the last minute, it’s fine. I hate the idea of being apart, Finn. But more than that, I just want you to be ok. So if this is what you need, I’ll try to be ok with it.”

  Her eyes fill up with tears and she looks away, but I reach out a hand and lay it on hers. She looks at me, her chin quivering.

  “It’ll be ok.” My voice is assured. Confident. “I’ll be ok.”

  She nods.

  “Reprommissionem?” Her voice is still shaky.

  “Promise.”

  Lie.

  9

  NOVEM

  Calla

  The ocean breeze blows back his hair, and Dare smiles in the sun. His teeth gleam and I giggle at something he said.

  I reach for him and he grabs me, holding me close.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he says against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.

  “Why?” I manage to breathe, my hands splayed against his chest. He smells like the woods.

  “Because you’re so much better than I deserve.”

  I wake up in wonderment, because hello. I’m so not better than he deserves. My subconscious mind must be on drugs, but regardless of that, my dreams are heaven.

  I shower and make my way downstairs for a late breakfast/ early lunch. The pickings are slim in the pantry.

  “We’re out of lemons for lemonade,” I tell my dad as we munch on cereal. “We’re also out of sandwich meat, spaghetti sauce, bread, milk… basically anything we can use to make dinner.” He nods, unconcerned and I sigh.

  I feel like he’s been slipping. Like he cares less and less about real life issues every day, and more on his grief about mom. He cares about his job, of course. But that’s nothing new. He’s always been a workaholic. In fact, that’s where he was the night mom died. In town, picking up a body.

  I force my attention from that, onto anything but that.

  “I’ll go to the store today,” I tell him, getting up and stretching. “Do you know where Finn is?”

  My father keeps his face buried in his newspaper, but still pulls out his wallet and hands it to me. “No.”

  I sigh again. “Ok. Well, if you see him, tell him I’ll be back later.”

  I take his wallet and slip out the door, grateful for a chance to be away from his blank expression. I know we all cope in different ways, but Jesus.

  The mid-day sun gleams on the wet road as I steer my car down the mountain. The birds are chirping in the trees, and I roll my windows down to let the brisk air in. I take a deep breath, then dance in my seat as a happy song comes on the radio.

  Thank you, God, I whisper in my head. Happiness, in any form, is hard to come by these days and I’ll take it where I can get it. Reaching down, I roll the volume dial up, pumping up the music, filling my car so that happiness is all I hear and all I feel.

  I only look away from the road for a second.

  For one brief moment.

  When I look back up, a tiny animal is sitting in the middle of the road. It happens so fast that I only see two green eyes looking at me, and gray fur, and I yank the wheel hard to avoid hitting it.

  My car rumbles off the road and I slam on the brakes, my wheels skidding in the dirty gravel on the shoulder.

  I skid to a stop, at least a foot from the edge, but still, I’m horrified and frozen. I can’t breathe as I sit still, as I eye the edge and suddenly, it seems very close to me. Like I could’ve plunge
d over the side, just like my mom.

  My breath comes in heavy gasps, my heart flutters in my chest as I hear her screaming, as I see the rain from that night, the steam rising from the road, the sound of her shrieking tires in my ear. It all swirls around me like stuttered pictures from a movie, re-living itself in ways I can’t stop. I put my hands over my ears to block out the screaming, and my chest contracts and contracts.

  I’m having a heart attack.

  But I’m not.

  It has to be a panic attack.

  I’m panicking.

  I can’t breathe.

  I throw open the car door and the roar of it is loud. I scramble out, and bend over, trying like hell to breathe, and failing miserably, my hands on my knees, my mouth open, gasping impotently.

  “Stand up,” a calm voice says quickly. “If you can’t breathe, stand up.”

  I do, arching my back with my hands on my hips, my face turned up to the sun.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  By five, I can breathe a small breath.

  By six, I take a large one.

  By seven, I’m able to move my head, to look and see who is with me.

  Dare stands in front of me, concern swimming in his dark eyes, his lithe form hovering by my car. It’s like he’s afraid to approach me, afraid that I’m a wild animal poised to attack.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, my lungs still feeling fluttery. “I don’t know what happened.”

  He takes a step, his eyes wary and concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Am I?

  I look around, at my car, at my open car door, at the way I just melted down in the street. But I nod, because I can’t do anything else.

  “Yeah. I just… there was something in the road. I almost hit it. I think it might’ve been a kitten. I might’ve even hit it. It happened so fast, I don’t know.”

  I bend over again, and Dare pulls me up.

  “Stand up,” he reminds me. “It opens your diaphragm up.”

  Right. Because I’m melting down and can’t breathe. For a minute, I decide this must be how Finn feels all the time. So crazy, so helpless.