“Just checking,” he says. I hear the slide of his body down the wooden wall and the thump as his butt hits dirt.
“You know, some people like privacy in the bathroom.”
“That’s true,” he says. “You know what I was thinking would be funny?”
I give up—that hint soared over his head. “What were you thinking?”
“What if I was in my tummy and then I ate pancakes and then they fell on my head and I was like, ‘Aaah, pancakes are falling on my head!’ Imagine?”
I open the door to find Leo sitting on the ground with Cat. “You are seriously weird,” I say. “Weirder than weird.”
Leo follows me to the drink cooler that holds washing-up water. “It would be crazy, though, right?”
“Yes, squirt,” I say, “but how could you be in your own tummy?”
He ponders that while I wash my hands and then shrugs as though it’s an inconsequential detail. This kid is crackers, or quite likely in need of company other than mine. We walk to our brownstone’s yard, where Grace, Maria, and Paul sit while Second Meal cooks in the solar oven. Jorge left to help Guillermo move cars and won’t return until tomorrow.
I find a chair, open my second bag of chips, and throw a couple in my mouth. Grace shakes her head like my dietary habits are a lost cause, although I’m sure it won’t stop her from preaching to me on the subject. We get three bags of chips per day, and my mission is to consume every last one of my allotment. I went hungry as a kid sometimes, and I plan never to do it again if I don’t have to.
Leo plops at my feet and begs for scraps like a puppy, Cat in his lap. He munches on the chips I hand him and brushes off the crumbs he drops onto Cat’s fur. “Sorry, Cat,” he says, attempting to smooth down the tiny tufts to no effect. “He looks like a bird. He’s a bird-cat.”
Cat’s tufts of fur do resemble a bird’s breast. “Leo, I think you just named him. Should we call him Bird?”
Leo pets Cat’s—or Bird’s—head with a grin, possibly as excited to have settled on a name as to be the one who named him. “We’ll name you Bird, little guy. Do you like that?”
Whether or not he does, Bird likes Leo, and he walks around him with the tip of his tail vibrating in the air. Leo and I call it tinkle tail.
“I think it’s perfect,” Grace says.
Leo chews his chips happily, dropping crumbs onto Bird’s head. Bird flicks his ears to remove the debris, sucks up every shard, and mews for more. When none are forthcoming, he rises to his feet and licks Leo’s lips.
“Gross,” I say.
“That cat will eat anything,” Paul says, then goes back to his book. He stayed behind at Jorge’s insistence. Neither of them could give a good reason why, so I have an inkling there’s a chauvinistic yet benevolent protect-the-women reason at the heart of it.
“So will we,” I say. “But do you not care your offspring is making out with a cat?”
Paul shrugs.
“It’s good for the immune system to be exposed to germs when you’re young,” Grace says. “Fewer allergies.”
“They say that’s true,” Maria agrees.
“There you go,” Paul says, book in front of his face. “Parenting win.”
I laugh, but no matter how much I love Bird, I don’t want cat spit in my mouth. I give my two beggars the last two chips and lick barbecue dust off my fingers. Maria jumps from her chair and stares up the yards, eyes wide, and the rest of us leap to our feet.
Eric has just come through Hipster Zombie House’s back door. I wipe my fingers on my pants, scrub any leftover barbecue dust off my face, and then have no idea what to do with myself. Leo races toward Eric, then leaps alongside him on his way toward us.
“Nothing’s wrong, Maria, don’t worry,” Eric says. He drops his pack next to the table, looking somewhat unkempt but otherwise fine.
“What happened?” Paul asks. “Is it that bad?”
Eric tells us about two families he found and brought to Sunset Park, which is very impressive and not at all surprising, then flashes an apologetic smile at Maria. “So I came back rather than start out again so late. I wasn’t sure I’d find a good place to sleep tonight.”
Grace leers my way at his words, enjoying my deer in the headlights act. Nice best friend.
Maria hugs him. “I’m glad you did.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m backing out. I’ll leave tomorrow at sunup.”
“Eric, I’m only letting you go because you want to. I don’t want you to go for me.”
“Letting me go?”
Maria wags a finger. “Letting you go. Your mother would kill me if I insisted you do something so stupid.” She pinches his cheek and wrinkles her small nose. Maria is not only attractive in her early fifties, but she can pull off cute. “You stink, mijo.”
He chuckles. “Thanks.”
“We heated water earlier. There’s still some in the big thermos. I can make more if you need it.”
“It’s that bad? I washed up at the park.”
Leo sniffs Eric’s jeans. “Yes, it’s that bad!”
As if by some unspoken agreement, everyone clears out, leaving me and Eric standing in the ring of chairs with my mind a complete blank. He makes no move to kiss me, or touch me, maybe as unsure of how to pick up where we left off as I am.
“Happy I’m here?” he asks, eyes twinkling.
“Maybe.” All of those nerve endings had calmed, but they’re back in action. We smile at each other in silence until I say the first thing that comes to mind. “So, you had to go and play the hero, huh?”
Eric’s laugh rebounds off buildings. “You were supposed to be impressed. They had more kids than adults and needed help. You would’ve done the same thing.”
I flip a hand. “I would’ve given them my best wishes and been on my way.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
“Okay, maybe I would’ve drawn them a map first.”
God, that smile is killing me. And his eyes. And his everything. His gaze is unblinking, maybe admiring, and it makes me want to hide under something. “I missed you,” he says.
I must be a deep shade of pink. I’m beginning to sweat. “You were barely gone. Usually it takes a week or two to miss me, if at all.”
“Much like Leo, I miss you if you spend too long in the outhouse.”
My tension subsides a little with my laugh. “You went with a poop joke? You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”
Eric strips off a glove and steps close. He does stink. I don’t care. He brushes my cheek with his knuckles, sending those nerves into overdrive. “I sure hope so,” he says, and I forget how to swallow. “I’m going to change. See you in a bit?”
I nod and watch him walk away, a mixture of terror and hope whirling in my belly. I set this in motion this morning, thinking I wouldn’t see him for two weeks. The hope was that by then, I’d have figured out how to act normal and not screw up the middle part. A day wasn’t nearly enough. Two years might not be enough.
I am in so far over my head it’s not funny.
Chapter 10
We eat Second Meal and play dominoes. Leo is allowed to stay up later, and by two hours after sunset, I understand why parents put their kids to bed early. He’s a lunatic, karate kicking at nothing and jumping around. Finally, Paul stands and says, “Bedtime, nutjob.”
Leo stops mid-kick and wails. “No!”
“We’re all going to bed, sweetie,” Maria says.
I help to clear off the coffee table while I obsess over the moment I’ve been both awaiting and dreading the past few hours. So far, I’ve been able to coast on our easy jokiness and other people picking up the slack during my awkward moments, but soon there will be no one to rescue me.
“I’ll take first watch, since Jorge won’t be back until tomorrow,” Eric says. “I can’t fall asleep yet, anyway.”
I glance at him just as he looks away. I have never been happier to have had a bath—or what passes for a bath??
?on a certain day as I am today. Every part of my body is warm, and some are returning to their earlier furnace-like state. I fuss with the dominoes and clean the kitchen while everyone gets ready for bed.
Eric comes in from the yard. “Need any help?”
I try to say no, but words don’t come. I’m not in over my head—I’m drowning. My crystal ball says I will fuck this up. Of course, it always says that, but it’s usually right.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I shake my head because I don’t have it in me to fake it. “Would a poop joke help?”
A panic-stricken laugh escapes. Eric uses the moment to step near and lightly touch my arm. He doesn’t stink anymore, that’s for sure. “Slow is fine.”
Except slow isn’t fine, and that scares me, too. Everything scares me. I’ve lost control of all facets of my life—I’ve lost my life, and while I don’t miss it, I can only adjust so quickly.
His fingers are warm on my skin. He touches me all the time. A hand on the small of my back to get past, a push with his laugh, a tuck of my hair. I like foreplay as much as the next gal, but this is getting ridiculous.
His eyes skip to my lips and rise again. “If you want, we can talk upstairs?”
I nod, though talking is the furthest thing from my mind and I haven’t said a word this whole time. Even the fear has taken a back seat to the pulse in my body. The only words I have to say would be improper when a small child is in the vicinity. My chest rises quickly. I would do practically anything for him to touch me more right now. It’s so obvious and I don’t care.
Eric swallows loud enough to hear. I might be making him nervous, for once. His eyes are dark, the hazel consumed by black pupils. “Okay,” he murmurs. “See you upstairs.”
He trips over the kitchen threshold on his way out.
***
I brush my teeth and lurk until everyone is in bed, then decide I need a new shirt. I creep into my bedroom and find a clean tank top using a pen light so as not to wake Grace. I’m at the door, congratulating myself on a job well done, when she whispers, “Have fun.”
Her voice doesn’t sound strained or upset, but I still ask, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. As long as I get details tomorrow.”
“There might not be anything to tell.”
“Right,” she says, drawing out the word. “I’ll take your watch shift.”
I thank her, make my way upstairs to the dim hall outside the living room, and lean against the wall to compose myself. This is my last chance to escape, but I couldn’t talk myself out of this if I tried. Footsteps sound, and then Eric stands in the hall silhouetted by lantern light. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
He motions toward the living room. “Come talk?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I say.
My heart races, those nerve endings tingle, and if I move from this wall my legs will give out, but it all pales in comparison to the craving that he touch me again. Eric goes still, then moves forward and leans in, hand on the wall over my shoulder. “What do you want?”
A zip of electricity crackles in the space between our lips before they meet. His mouth is as urgent as mine, and his hands are feverish, hungry, as they slip to my waist and up again. I press my hips to his, run fingers along the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and then slide them down to pop the button of his jeans.
Maybe we should find a room, some privacy, but I care about nothing except how his hand has moved lower. I moan at his mouth on my neck, creating chills that flow to my feet and mingle with the ripples of pleasure from his fingers. Eric murmurs in my ear, voice husky and breath hot, and that does me in.
It’s been so long since I felt the exploding warmth, the few lovely seconds of not having a care in the world, and I’m not sure it’s ever been this lovely. I bite my lip to keep quiet, then pull him by his belt loop and unzip his jeans. He groans, knees giving way just enough for me to know he’s as into this as I am.
We freeze like thieves at a creak from upstairs. “Eric?” Paul whispers. “Everything okay?”
Eric coughs. “Yeah, fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Oh,” Paul says. “Sorry.”
We stand, panting, while he walks back to his room. Eric drops his forehead on my shoulder. “Fucking Paul. Again.”
I laugh. He raises his head, eyes bright in the dim light, but they cloud over as he traces my lips with a finger. The mood has been dulled but not broken, and my stomach dips at his obvious desire.
“Where should we go?” I murmur. I don’t think Grace would appreciate our company, and, clearly, Paul is awake in the room next to Eric’s.
“The roof.”
He grabs the lantern and a blanket off the couch, then kisses me at the fire escape window until I don’t care if Paul sits on the couch with a tub of popcorn to watch. Finally, he releases me and then pinches my butt as I climb through the window.
“Hey, watch it, buster,” I say.
“I was watching it,” he says, joining me on the fire escape. “That’s why I pinched it.”
I push him as we pick our way up the stairs to the top balcony, where I pause at the ladder. We should’ve gone through the hatch in Eric’s bedroom.
“I won’t let you fall,” Eric whispers. He grips the ladder’s sides, enclosing me in his arms. “Trust me?”
I don’t want to consider that question, as it’s scarier than heights, so I climb. Up top, Eric spreads the blanket on the tar paper. It’s one of those perfect nights where the breeze blows warm and your body is in equilibrium with the temperature outside. The city stretches out, black shapes of buildings bordered by stars. Possibly more stars than anyone has seen in New York since the advent of electricity.
“It’s pretty,” I say.
“You’re prettier.”
I sit on the blanket, glad he can’t see my blush in the shadows. “You don’t have to flirt. It’s obvious you’ve got me.”
“Do I?”
Another weighted question. All this talking is giving me time to think—never a good idea. I touch his cheek instead of answering, and our next kiss is unhurried. Eric runs his thumb over my mouth. “I love your lips.”
The way he looks at me, as though I’m something special, is a long-held fantasy. But the reality makes my mind whir and tick and go to bad places. It says it can’t be true, or that it won’t last. I close my eyes and concentrate on my own sensations, the composition of his body, and the removal of clothing, until he’s under me and we’re both lost in how good it feels.
“I don’t have anything,” he says.
I pull a small packet from the pocket of my discarded jeans and bend to his ear. “I thought you were an Eagle Scout.”
Eric laughs easily, the way he does everything. I don’t usually joke like this in these situations. I take what I need and leave, satisfied and unsatisfied at the same time. The familiarity is nice, but it’s new. I don’t know where it ends or how to do it right.
I move slowly while the pleasure builds, until I hear nothing but our breath, not even the breeze. I watch the stars without seeing. Eric brings my face near to his, but I pull away from what I see in his eyes. There’s an openness, a confirmation that he’s here, that I can’t match. He sits up and holds me close. I force myself to keep his gaze for a few moments, then close my eyes and still see stars, as though they’ve been emblazoned on my eyelids.
When it’s clear he can’t wait, I let myself go. I expected a shooting star’s worth of pleasure, a pulse of light in time to the waves that run through me, but this is more like the asteroid that hit the Earth, tore up a mile-wide crater, and forever changed life as the dinosaurs knew it. It sends him over the edge with me, until we’re locked together and motionless. I put my lips to his salty neck and try to catch my breath.
“Holy shit,” Eric breathes.
I gasp out a laugh. His fingertips skim my backbone and send shivers everywhere. I don’t want to break the spell, but I’m already worried about what comes
next. The spell is breaking no matter what.
I squirm. “I should get dressed.”
His hands drop. I stand to pull on my clothes and wait for him to do the same. He dresses slowly, casting glances at me that I see out of the corner of my eye as I watch the sky.
“Is that the Milky Way?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I point at a bright, flickering star. “That might be a planet.”
He folds the blanket without answering. It’s only minutes since the asteroid hit, and I’m retreating. I feel more exposed, fully dressed, than I did before. I don’t know what he saw just now, and I want to figure out how much of myself I gave away. I want to take it all back.
Eric’s arms come around my waist, muscular but soft and comforting all the same. “Come to Earth, Sylvie.”
“I’m here.” I lean into his solidity to ground myself. I don’t know why I can’t let it happen, especially when I want it so much. For the first time, though, I think I want it enough to figure out how.
He kisses the top of my head. It’s affectionate and sweet, and it quiets my urge to run as far away as possible. “Will you sleep with me?” he asks.
“Pretty sure that’s what just happened.”
“You know what I mean,” he says, and I nod before my stupid mouth can refuse.
Once in his bed, I stare at the ceiling. Eric slides under the covers, flips me on my side and pulls me to his chest. His fingers tickle my neck, rise over my shoulder and travel down my arm. “You can go to sleep if you’re tired. I’m still on watch.”
“This is how you do watch? Remind me never to leave you in charge.”
“I was doing fine until you interrupted me,” he murmurs into my hair. His hand strokes my hip before it travels farther down.
“I only had one condom. Just so you know.”
“Oh,” he says. “In that case, get out.”
I cut off my peal of laughter and spin to face him. His head is propped in his hand and he’s smiling. “It’s like you like for me to say the worst thing I could possibly say. And you just giggled.”