[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
. You will, he says and shuts the door.The window isrolled all the way down, making it simple for me to reachout and squeeze his hand as a good-bye, but I don t.Instead,I turn the key and watch him leave.As he walks away, I hear him whistling.At first I don trecognize the tune, but then it comes to me as I m driving:Dire Straits,  Romeo and Juliet. I sing without any musicto back me up, There s a place for us you know the moviesong.When you gonna realize, it was just that the timewas wrong?&'&8]VeiZg C^cZ> m back at Slave to the Grind II, alone save for the custom­ers who don t understand my shift is over.One wants a refill(it s self-catering).One wants a donut (we re all out).Onewants her muffin heated (smirk me, too whatever thatmeans).The name-changing ceremony is the day after to­morrow.By then, I m hoping to have at least sorted throughmy college essay notes.Up the stairs to the apartment I was sharing with Arabella,I think again how weird it will be not to see her all the time.How it s a good thing, maybe, that she stayed in Californiawhile I came back.Like practice for the fall.After all, sheand I have been glued since sophomore fall at Hadley, inLondon, back home.A few weeks and she ll be here, but allI have in the meantime are her piles of clothing swimsuitsstrung on the bathroom hooks, skirts left in gentle heaps&''AVWdg d[ AdkZon her bedroom floor and photographs of us in variouslocales.I pick up one of us sitting on the bench outside ofthe Black Dog bakery, each of us with an oversized applefritter.Looking closely at this makes me miss her more.Notto mention crave an apple fritter.Note to self: Grab one to­morrow morning before hitting the books.Arabella s grace­ful smile inspires a smile back, even if it s only to a picture.Then I decide I don t have to just get grumpy and sad; I cancall her.So I take out my phone and wake it from its closedsleep, only to have it move in my hand.I realize that all that buzzing I felt in the bumper carsmight not have only had to do with seeing Jacob.It mightalso have been my phone, poking at me with its vibratingring.Those strange sensations I felt during the past couple ofhours were only partly due to being with Jacob.The otherpart was due to having missed not one but three calls.And they were all from Charlie.He s been chained to hisdesk most nights and I m glad he wanted to talk, but now Ihave the sinking feeling that he s going to ask why I didn tpick up and I ll have to tell him why.Saying that I neggedhis calls makes it seem as though being with Jacob was moreimportant.I m glad I didn t feel the buzzing.It s like thattime with Jacob existed in a separate, parallel universe whereI felt free to blab.I fling my grimy T-shirt off, shed my shorts, and slip on&'(:b^an ;gVc`a^ca plain white fitted T-shirt and an Arabella castoff, the skirtshe called Brontë because it looks as though it belongs inan epic novel yet is a color that defies description (thus theproper name). Hey, I say when Charlie picks up. I m walking to mycar.I have coffee and crumpets in hand your study breakfuel. Hmmm.crumpets sounds suggestive. Yes, I m your little crumpet. I laugh as I try to talkon the phone while getting into my car while carrying acardboard tray of coffee. But now I m your crumpet witha coffee stain. Once in the car I try to napkin off some ofthe offending spillage.Arabella won t care but I do it s herskirt and I m just far too clumsy. I might have to soak myskirt in your sink.Charlie clears his throat. That sounds just fine to me. You know what I mean to get the stain out. I ll be waiting with bated breath and a bucket of bleach.Or whatever it is you kids use these days.We hang up and I smile the whole way to his house, evenwhen I get turned around on a back road and have to circleback to the driveway.It s odd, knowing the Big House existsnow.The cottage used to seem like the end point, the onlything here, but now I understand it s just a stopping point onthe way to somewhere else.Briefly, I wonder if that s what&')AVWdg d[ AdkZI am to Charlie or if we re more if he s more to me thanthat.It s possible, right? People meet and fall in love andLuckily, I get to the cottage and find that he s lit twolanterns for me and left them by the back porch.I take oneand walk around to the front, to the beach side.This time,I m relieved to find him not Parker there.And that he swaiting for me.I put the lantern down at my feet, look athim, and then dart out to the waves.Salt water is good forcuts; maybe it s good for coffee stains.Charlie follows meout to the waterline, strips off his shirt, revealing a breathtak­ing body underneath, and wades past me. Aren t you going to come out? he asks, his hair slickafter diving down and resurfacing.He s farther out than Iwould have gone. I can t stand that far, I say, walking into waist-high andthen chest-high water.It s cold the Atlantic in summerisn t close to tropical.But that s not what makes me shiver.It s being close to him.Close to the person I like so much,who is wearing not so much clothing.Charlie swims back to me and takes my hands underthe water.I imagine the unseen creatures sea stars, hermitcrabs, fish all looking at our entwined hands and thinkingit looks like a wonderful new creature. I ll hold you, hesays.I clasp my legs around his waist and he walks with melike that out to where he was.&'*:b^an ;gVc`a^cThe ocean water gleams, bright in spots where themoonlight hits the surface.We stay in that position, nottalking, not kissing, not doing anything but looking at oneanother staring in a way that isn t at all awkward just in­tense and comforting at the same time [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]