I want to forget. I wish someone could wipe my memory clean.
This old building has a third floor one no one occupies. It’s dusty and there’s a mild odor of mold, but there’s also a window nook with a bench at the end of the hallway and it overlooks all the trees and the lights of the city blink and glow along the horizon. I only come up here when no one is likely to come looking for me, and tonight all the children and staff are celebrating the countdown to midnight. A new year should be an open door for possibilities, and for me this is true. In just four short months, I’ll be eighteen and on my own. I don’t have a plan, even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I turned seventeen.
The fire escape door opens and closes to my right. Footsteps shuffle by the door. Dale’s profile is a blur as he jogs up the first step toward the next landing—the roof. He’s not usually still in the building at this hour, but the lights would have been out for everyone two hours ago on any other evening.
I wait for the sound of another door opening and closing before I drop my legs off the wooden nook bench and reach for the door handle. The stairwell is empty, only lit by the exit sign faintly glowing above the door at the top of the stairs. Unlike Dale, I keep my footsteps quiet as I tiptoe up to the top. I push against the metal door, struggling against the brisk wind. With a quick glance around the small platform, I spot Dale, still in his uniform and without a coat, sitting along the edge, with his feet dangling off the side.
I’m not so sure he will be happy to see me since I stood him up last week on the night he asked me to meet him outside. I was stuck in a solitary room, punished for berating the mailman. There was no way to get a message to him and I haven’t seen him around the building or outside since.
While I was quiet to open the door, I forgot to ease it shut so it wouldn’t make a loud clap. I reach back for it just before it closes but miss it by a hair.
“Arina?”
I pivot to face him. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you,” I say.
“I wouldn’t accuse you of such seeing as you just let the door slam,” he replies. He doesn’t chuckle after his remark, nor does he stand or look happy to see me. He’s staring at me like everyone else does, and I can only see the look in his eyes thanks to the pale glow from a brilliant farmer’s moon.
“I couldn’t leave my room last week, the night I agreed to meet you. I had no way to let you know.”
“I figured as much,” he says, still sounding despondent.
“You seem angry,” I say, taking a few hesitant steps toward him.
“I’m not angry. I’m just thinking clearly now.”
I can take a guess at what he means. “You’ve realized I’m not someone you should associate with,” I explain, saving him from the words I expect to hear next.
Dale sighs and turns away, refocusing his attention on the silhouette of dark buildings along Chicago’s bright skyline. Or maybe it’s the inverted reflection in the water between us he’s entranced with. “I’m only going to cause you trouble and it’s the last thing you need.” He will cause himself trouble too, I’m sure, but he’s leaving that part out.
“If by trouble you mean me being sequestered to a solitary room, I don’t care as much as you might think I do.”
“I heard.”
It’s viciously numbing out here, but I didn’t notice how cold I was until now. I wrap my arms around my torso and curl my hands up into the sleeves of my wool sweater. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I overheard Mrs. Vallentine talking to some of the other staff. They don’t know if you are content in the solitary room or behaving worse—acting more—”
I’m only a few footsteps behind him now and he’s still not facing me. “Acting more…what? Disturbed, cuckoo, raving mad?” I can’t hide the fury reeling through me.
“To be frank, yes, that’s exactly what they think of you. They said you were singing and dancing around the room. The point of solitary space is for it to be used as punishment, but it makes you happy. They think that’s an issue.”
“It’s an issue that they don’t want me to be happy, and I wasn’t dancing,” I retort.
Dale pulls his legs up to the ledge and stands up. He releases a long, frustrating exhale before he turns to face me.
“Do you think I disagree?”
“I don’t know what you think right now. You are acting like someone completely different from the person I thought you were. I can only assume you must think I’m as mad as they do.” My chest aches upon listening to my words floating along the breeze.
He narrows his eyes and tips his head to the side. “You’ve been through literal hell and Vallentine finds your behavior disturbing because she heard you singing and dancing in a room, alone. Why were you singing? What made you happy enough to sing?”
My cheeks burn at the unexpected question I won’t be able to run away from. I’m embarrassed to admit the reason for singing when I thought I was alone, and no one was listening. “You,” I say starkly. “I was looking forward to that night with you, so I was imagining what it might have been like if she didn’t force me to miss out. Girls do that when they’re alone, and it doesn’t mean they’re delusional.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he says, closing more of the gap between us. “If I make you happy and that causes you trouble here, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t walk away?”
“You aren’t making any sense. I don’t care what they think of me, and I don’t care if they hear me singing because no one has heard me sing in over three years. No one, including you, knows I used to sing all the time. I had dreams of being a famous singer—stupid dreams, but they were dreams. In four months, they won’t have to think about me again.”
“They’re the ones who decide the status of your mental well-being and if you’re fit for society. Otherwise, God knows what they might do to you. I can’t be a part of that risk, Arina. I won’t.”
“So, you would rather me be miserable and lonely here?” I ask.
“No!” he snaps. “That’s not it at all. I care about you and to me, that means doing what’s right for you—keeping you out of trouble so you can be free in a few months when you turn eighteen.”
A wave of shouts and cheers rumble across the city and I recoil. “I can pretend to be unhappy if it means—”
“Means what?”
The roars grow louder, and I spin around. “What is that noise?”
“Three…two…” Dale swallows me up in his arms, pausing for the longest second before pressing his lips against mine. He smells like ivory soap with a hint of musky cologne, and the stubble on his cheeks feather along my chin, striking a chord through my nerves. He inhales sharply as if he wants to breathe me in, and his arms tighten around my back. My pulse is running a race, winning by a long shot and my stomach fills with sparks, igniting one at a time, and then all at once.
The sky cracks and snaps, startling me into gasping for air. We both glance up, finding a display of fireworks lighting up in the dark of night. “Happy New Year,” he says, a small smile growing across his glossy lips.