He raised his eyebrows at that in a conceding shrug. “Very true. Hopefully Rojo will still be alive when you come back Sunday.”
I blanched.
“I’m kidding, Sarah,” he said on a laugh, and again, my stomach filled with warmth at my first name rolling off his lips. That warmth spread like propane, igniting into a blue flame when Reese reached forward, hand wrapping around my wrist and tugging me forward until I was in his arms.
He wrapped me up in them like a blanket, my face nuzzling his chest as he rested his chin on my head. For a fleeting second, I felt self-conscious about the fact that he’d find no hair there, no feminine reminder of who he held in his arms. But it was gone as soon as it had come, especially when he sighed, the sound reverberating through my body as he wrapped me in closer.
“Thank you,” he said on a breath. “For today. For Rojo.”
I squeezed his middle where my arms had wrapped around him, inhaling the fresh scent of soap that mixed with tobacco on his shirt. It’d been so long since I’d been hugged like that by anyone other than my mom. I’d shied away from all human touch, so much so that I forgot how warm it could feel, how comforting, how safe.
“Thanks for trusting me.”
He stiffened in my arms a little at that, as if he’d only just realized that he’d done what I’d accused. And with that tension came a stilling of the night around us, a quieting of the insects, a dimming of the porch light that shone down from above us. Reese pulled back a little, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He still held me, his hands on my arms, mine pressed against his chest.
“And for the record,” he said. “You are enough.”
I glanced up, catching his eyes for the briefest moment before he leaned in, his scent invading my senses again. And as if I wasn’t dizzy enough, the distance between us closed, and Reese pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead.
I closed my eyes, holding my last breath as heat spread from where his lips touched me. It expanded slowly, like a trickle of water, pooling together at my shoulders before spilling down like a waterfall, touching my navel, my thighs, my ankles and toes. I was swimming in the warm waters of that kiss long after he pulled away, and when I opened my eyes and looked up at him, I wondered if he was drowning with me.
He held me there a little too long, a little too close, but neither of us made to move. His eyes searched mine, and mine drank him in, and we said nothing at all at the same time we said everything we knew we couldn’t.
It was all in that look.
It was all in that embrace.
And it was all lost as soon as Reese released me, stepping back more than necessary, his hands shoved forcefully into his pockets as he offered a tight smile.
“See you Sunday, Miss Henderson.”
Miss Henderson.
The air around us snapped back to life, a car whizzing by on the road in front of his house as if to remind us what universe we were in, what rules existed here. Its headlights temporarily blinded me, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the night again with his goodbye ringing in my ears.
I swallowed, understanding the meaning that lay beneath the name he’d addressed me with. His eyes nailed that intention home, the wide circle of his pupils telling me to take a step back, to make the line clear again, to fall back into my role so he could stand firmly in his own.
Teacher, and student.
I nodded, both to his spoken confirmation of our next lesson and his unspoken request of remembering where we each stood. My feet carried me numbly off his porch and into my car, and the engine purred to life like it was happening in another dimension as I strapped my seatbelt on.
I pulled out of his driveway without looking back at him, willing my heartbeat to steady, my breathing to calm. I wondered if I’d imagined it, if Reese was just being nice, entertaining me by adopting a dog and then thanking me like any other person would.
But it was him who’d reached for my hand.
It was him who’d held me close.
And it was his lips that had touched my skin, the first time in my life that I’d wanted it, asked for it, even if I hadn’t spoken the request out loud.
All of those facts scrambled in my brain like eggs in a frying pan, and the longer I analyzed them, the more they burned, the smell of it all so nauseating I had no choice but to shake the thoughts altogether.
It was just a hug, just an innocent kiss on the forehead.
That was the last thing I told myself before I chose not to think of it again.
Reese
Another crack of lightning flashed, illuminating the entire house before it fell completely dark again. The low roll of thunder quickly followed, melding with the rain that hammered the roof in a chaotic symphony. Rojo whimpered a little, snuggling even closer to me on the couch, her chin resting on my chest.
Thunderstorms had rocked through Mount Lebanon all weekend, and for once it felt like the universe was on my side. I wanted to be miserable, to lie in a dark house with nothing to do but sulk and watch my candles burn. Another low rumble of thunder reverberated through the house, as if the weather was saying you’re welcome.
The date had snuck up on me for the first time in my life.
June twenty-ninth usually started hovering over my head somewhere in the middle of May, and I’d watch that little square on my wall calendar get closer and closer, knowing that when it hit, it’d mark another year without my family. But this year, I’d been so caught up in my routine, in playing at The Kinky Starfish and working with Sarah that I hadn’t noticed. Figuring out my new routine with Rojo added to it, and I’d spent the week taking her for walks and exploring nearby dog parks, completely wrapped up in the bliss that she brought, in the warm, long days of summer.
No, I hadn’t felt that cloud hovering, not until the moment it let loose and a thousand rain drops descended on me like a bucket of ice water.
Today marked five years without my parents, without my little sister, Mallory.
Without my soul.
I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of the date coming without me realizing it that had knocked me on my ass, or if the jolt of this particular hit rested in the fact that it had been five full years — a milestone that had come in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Whichever one it was, it had rendered me nearly dead, and I was thankful it was a Sunday, that it was storming — the weather outside just as miserable as I was inside.
I was also thankful for Rojo, who must have known something was off. From the moment I woke up, she was glued to my side, or — like now — to my chest, her body sprawled out over me in a protective blanket of heat. I rubbed the fur under her collar, dry eyes locked on the ceiling as the day slipped away.
Every year on this date, I’d think of their smiles, their voices, the little quirks that made them so uniquely them. I’d think of how old they would be, what they would be doing if they were still here. My sister would be married, I imagined — maybe pregnant, or maybe already with a kid or two. My parents would be retired, no doubt, and likely living out Mom’s dream of owning a lake house out on Lake Mockamixon. I wondered if I’d still be in New York, if they’d fly to visit me for Christmas, if we’d all meet up for a week in the summer at the lake house. I could close my eyes and picture it, the four of us together. A family.
Except I couldn’t see them as clearly, anymore.