Authors: Nora Flite
“
I'm
only down the hall,” I said, leaning on the door frame.
“
I
know,” she mumbled, laying back on the bed to squint at the
ceiling. “That's what makes it so hard.”
My
finger twitched by the light switch. I decided not to flick it;
instead, just shutting the door as I backed out. “It'll be
alright, I promise. Goodnight, Leah.”
Her
words were quiet. She tossed me a look of pure distress through the
closing gap.
“
Goodnight.”
For
some time I lay awake in my bed just staring at the darkness above
me. Sleep was like sand, pouring through my fingers as I kept trying
to grab it in handfuls.
What am I so worked up about? Squeezing my eyes shut, the blackness
was just as opaque as when my lids were open. I sighed, it was a
long, rustling sound.
Did
my nerves have anything to do with Leah and what she had said earlier
while we were standing right here in my room?
Rolling
on my side, blankets around my feet, I felt hot. Though my room was
ice cold, it was hard to imagine it was December.
Thinking
about Leah, it tickled my brain, my memory rising to the surface.
Dissecting the phrase was hard, I kept recalling how she had kissed
me, the texture of her lips.
What
she had said... she mentioned how I was making her fall for me,
right?
Sitting
up so fast that my head swam, I wiped a palm across the sweat on my
forehead.
Was
she saying she's in love with me!? No, wait, 'could.' She'd said
'could' make a girl fall for me. Did she mean she isn't in love with
me, not yet? Is that why she said 'could'?
Flopping
backwards, my mouth made a bitter twist.
I
can't tell which of those is bothering me more, that she might be in
love with me already, or that she might not be at all.
Inhaling,
my chest expanded as my lungs held a great gulp of air. Counting the
seconds, I finally let my breath out in a slow ripple.
The
idea that Leah might love me,
love
me
,
was strangely something I hadn't fully considered.
It'd
only been a little over a month, could she really fall in love with
me so quickly?
I'm
missing the real issue here, what about me? Can I love her, already?
Burying
my face with a pillow, the cloth cool on my flushed skin, I tried to
listen to the pounding of my heart. It was pulsing, intense; I was
starting to freak out.
It
took me how long before I told Bethany I loved her? A year? And here
I am, debating on if I feel that way for Leah. Is this moving too
fast?
Scowling,
I tossed the pillow aside, kicking my legs over the bed. Moving to
the window, I pushed the curtains away, staring out at the fields lit
by the silver coin of the moon. There was no snow, but I could tell
by the frost on the ground that it would be coming before long.
Pressing
my mouth close to the glass, I breathed out, fogging it all up.
I'm
the one who asked her to meet my family. How can I start to wonder if
this is too fast, all of a sudden?
Leaning
my cheek on the cold pane, I shut my eyes in exhaustion.
Maybe
she's the one who thinks this is going too fast. How can I find out?
Imagining
myself proclaiming my love to her, seeing those dark eyes glaze over
in shock, or worse, indifference...
No, I thought, frowning as I straightened. My finger tip traced on
the glass, forming a shape across the foggy surface.
No, that's
not what would happen. Maybe this is fast, I don't know, but Leah
wouldn't react like that if I admitted my feelings.
But,
I
debated, hanging my head as shame over took me,
how
can I tell her, if I'm not sure how I really feel? What if I push too
hard, and that makes her pull away?
Standing,
I turned on my bare feet, falling back onto the mattress gently.
Curling in the blankets, snuggling down deep, I forced myself to try
and sleep once more.
In
my head, all I could see was the shape of the heart I'd drawn on the
glass, the lines melting away in seconds.
****
Breakfast
was not so much
breakfast,
but
a bustling run-around as my parents got ready for church. Leah looked
like she might fall asleep any second as she leaned on the kitchen
wall with her eyes half-shut.
She'd
done her best to look presentable. I felt guilty at the idea I should
have given her more instruction, and hadn't.
How
early did she get up? Was she fussing in the mirror, going through
her clothes, trying to decide what was appropriate for morning
service?
It
was so easy to forget that she had never done this before.
“
Deacon,”
my mother said, dressed nicely in her crisp black pants and a red
Christmas sweater, “do you want to follow us in my car, or ride
in the back of ours with us?”
“
We'll
ride with you,” I said absently, trying to will Leah to look at
me. My mother made a small noise of agreement, wandering out of the
room and calling after my father. Alone in the kitchen, my shined
shoes brought me close to the girl I cared so much for.
Touching
her shoulder, smiling at how she jumped, my eyes twinkled warmly into
hers. “Here. You forgot this.” Lifting the red scarf
she'd dropped in my room the night before, I saw her reaction shift.
First,
she seemed relieved. Almost instantly, her fingers touched her bare
neck, causing me to notice the marks seemed virtually invisible
today.
“
I
covered them with makeup,” she explained, wrapping her throat
with the long knitted scarf. “I figured... maybe that would be
safer.”
Unsure
what to say about that, I instead squinted at the bags under her
eyes, the purple hue not as well hidden as her bruises. “You
alright?”
“
Yeah,”
she said, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, guess I'm pretty
sleepy still.”
“
Just
don't doze off in church, or the pastor will throw the Bible at you.”
Her
expression of pure horror made me laugh. “Sorry, I'm kidding.
You'll be fine. Once we start to sing, you'll wake up.”
I
expected her to look relieved, her twist of distressed eyebrows
confused me. “There's singing?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged, fingers helplessly finding their way
up her neck, over her scarf and to her cheek. It was so hard not to
touch her. “Just Christmas songs probably, nothing major.
You'll be fine, Leah. Trust me.”
The
lines at the corners of her mouth hinted that she did not, in fact,
think she'd be fine. I wanted to console her more, but my father
strolled in, dressed in his heavy winter coat. “Alright, kids,
let's load up in the car!”
Cramming
into the backseat of my dad's old truck was nostalgic as anything
could be. It was funny, how hard it was to feel like an adult when
put back into such a familiar situation.
The
sky resembled the color of oatmeal, threatening snow but offering
only cold, stale air. Beside me, Leah was quiet, something she seemed
more quick to sink into ever since getting off the plane.
I
don't know how to make her more relaxed, she's nervous about
everything.
Casually,
I slid the glove off my left hand, covertly finding her fingers and
latching on. I squeezed tightly as she looked at me, enjoying how her
serious pout became a tender smile.
With
our hands linked on the middle seat between us, we both watched the
world roll by on our way into town. My parents lived a decent drive
out from everything, a fact that only began to bother me growing up
as I hit my teen years.
It
was difficult, at the time, to understand their desire to be in such
a private area. Especially when my major worry increasingly became
trying to be social and see friends.
Now,
enjoying the scenic views of the fields again, I felt a vibe of
comfort.
The
radio was rumbling with the repetitive music of Christmas tunes, a
tradition if there ever was one. My dad hummed along, my mother
singing a line here and there.
When
we hit the town, any doubt that the season was here would have been
crushed. Small, quaint, the area felt like a storybook with all the
wreathes and garland on doors and street lamps.
The
church was easy to spot, by far the tallest building among everything
else. White and sharp, the sight of it brought back memories I wasn't
prepared for.
Memories
that tingled with warning.
Leah
gripped my hand, pulling me from them before they rose from my
consciousness. Flashing her a grin, I pointed to all the cars lining
the road; people were bustling about, hurrying to get inside the warm
building.
“
It's
always a little busier this time of year,” I explained. “The
seasonally faithful, and all that.”
“
Deacon,”
my father chided, squinting at me in the rear-view mirror as he
parked.
As
a group, we clamored out of the doors. Instantly, people began waving
to my dad, calling out greetings at the sight of him.
Always
so popular,
I
thought silently.
With
all the “hello's!” and “how are you's?” we
had to fight through to get into the church, it took us far longer
than seemed reasonable. The chill air was biting my nose before long.
Warmth
soaked into me when we finally passed through the wide double doors,
the gentle, soothing music reaching into my chest.
Standing
there, looking around the huge room with its rows of pews, arching
ceilings and beautiful stained glass decorations, I was awash with a
sensation of falling into the past.
“
It's
so big.” The voice beside me was Leah, standing there, eyes
glistening as she viewed the church.
“
Yeah,”
I agreed, gently taking her wrist, guiding her down the long aisle
towards a seat near the front. She saw where we were going, gave a
slight tug of panic.
“
Wait,”
she mumbled, plaintively looking at me. “Do we need to sit so
close?”
She's
so scared of this. Is it really that bad?
Giving
her my sweetest, most caring smile, I rubbed my thumb over the back
of her hand. “It's fine, we can sit back here, instead.”
Her muscles relaxed visibly, calming my own nerves some.