The skies brought snow last night. Its white, perfect surface marred by tire tracks and shoe imprints. Ugly puddles of muddy slush await at every corner, like a crouching beast waiting to pounce. The fringes of my window pane are iced over and I shiver just thinking about the cold outside. I rub my hands together and realize that the cold is inside as well. My shoulders, stomach and hips are all cracking under the frozen pressure of standing up straight. I walk over to my hotplate and heat some water. But no tea will erase this coldness. It feels like the skies are hanging close to the ground. They are hanging in anticipation, waiting to let loose their tears.
My classes are in fast forward. My world around me feels too fast. Trawlen ignored me, sending out no earthly signals of conquest or disappointment. After my classes end, I go back to my room and sleep. The brand-new inner warmth from a mug of black tea stirs in my belly. The caffeine should have an effect on me, but I've never failed to fall asleep even after drinking black tea.
When I awake in the morning, I glance out my window. It's snowing lightly and the skies seem more friendly. I slowly creep from my warmth and wander outside. The snow seems like a falling extension of the sky. They're the same color. I try to find the outlines of the clouds, but the flakes just sting my eyes. I always loved the first snow. Mom used to take me on a long walk in the first snow of winter. We would walk around the lake behind our house and collect fallen leaves. The edges would tear under the softest pressure. The snowflakes would tickle my eyelashes and nose. And when we returned, she would cook us tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. She always dipped her sandwich in the soup.
Outside, my nose wrinkles as the cold air wafts past me. The flakes wet my hair and it weighs heavy on my head. I'm reminded of my father. As I comb my hands through my hair, I imagine his hands doing the same through my mother's. That was his way of comforting her. He would calm her down and secure his hand behind her head. Suddenly, someone's right beside me and I'm startled.
"Kyle... you scared me..." I cross my arms against my body.
"You must be freezing. Let's go inside." He smiles, wrapping his warm arm around my shoulder. We get back to my room and I have to change my clothes. He takes off his coat and watches me undress. His gaze isn't lewd, but curious.
"What were you doing out there? You're probably gonna get a cold." I pull a sweater over my head and walk over to hug him. Against his chest, I muffle an answer.
"I was thinking." Kyle leans back so my face is visible.
"Thinking? About what?" I look up into his eyes, wanting to tell him everything. He deserves much more from me.
"Home." I lean my forehead against his chest trying to savor his solidity, but then break our embrace. I should tell him things. He's told me so much about himself. His parents are still married. He has two sisters, who call him every weekend. They're younger, they look up to him. They stick together. Bobby's family is the same way. His parents still talk to him because he's their son. The only son. I sit on my bed facing Kyle, who sits opposite me on a chair. I sigh deeply.
"My parents." I look at him and hesitate. I'm not sure how to talk about this. I never have. To anyone.
"What's your mom's name?"
"Deborah. Like Debbie Harry, blond hair and everything. My mom likes her music. I do too."
"But you have red hair. Does your dad have red hair?"
"No. No, he doesn't. He's got brown hair." I stumble again and Kyle sits beside me. He nudges me with his shoulder.
"It's ok. You don't have to tell me."
"But I want to. I should. It's just that... I never talk about them."
"Why not?" When my eyebrows wrinkle, he shrugs. "Ok, a more simple question: What's your dad's name?"
"Robert."
"And...? What are they like?" I sigh out. How do I answer that? My parents are like celebrities to me, distant and overwhelmingly surreal.
"Well... my dad is smart. He used to be an accountant. I remember him carrying a big briefcase to work every morning. I used to hide presents in the side pockets, like a chocolate kiss or something like that." Kyle smiles. "And on Sundays, he'd bring me breakfast in bed. He'd sit down beside me, kiss my hair and steal a piece of bacon." I stare out the window now, the past playing before me like a movie. "He smelled like peppermint. He smoked, but he never let me know it. I always saw him chewing gum."
My eyes are glossed over and my face is slack. The images fly by me like they were yesterday. I think of all those wonderful times with him, trying to recall what his face looked like. The only time I remember what he looked like is when he left. He stood in the doorway, turned toward me and put his hat on. A small nose and brown hair, pale skin with a few wrinkles in his cheeks. He stepped over the threshold and with the light coming in from outside, I only saw his silhouette. Once he was down the steps, my mom called me back into the kitchen. I didn't want to, so I stayed. My first disobedience. I watched him walk to the curb, his bag in hand and a scarf around his neck. My mother was yelling at me. But even at twelve years old, I knew that he wasn't coming back.
Kyle touches my hand, bringing me back to my room. I look away from the window and realize my eyes are wet. I feel so embarrassed, but Kyle doesn't let go of my hand.
"It's ok. You can stop. It's ok." In a voice I barely recognize as my own, I reply.
"Not it's not. Something's wrong with me, Kyle." I can't look at him, but I grasp his hand. "I hate crying. I never cry. Not even if I get hurt." He wants to interrupt, but I continue. "There is so much to me that you don't know. So much that's happened to me. I don't even know how to tell you. I don't tell people those things. I'm so good at keeping secrets. Because they're my secrets. I'm like this hidden person inside the body that you see." I take a breath and Kyle has his chance to speak.
"Angela. Angela, look at me." I shake my head, but his hand squeezes mine. "Please, Ang. Look at me." His voice is so soft and caring. My tears have stopped now. I look up at him, his eyes boring into mine. "Angela, I love you."
My fast world stops. I can actually hear my heart beating. My ears are pounding and I lose my hearing for a moment. I can feel the blood rushing to my head and down into my fingers and toes. I know my cheeks are bright red. I almost forget to breathe, until Kyle speaks again.
"Ok, I love you. I love everything about you. I love how you paint. I love your hair, even if it's a mess. I love your hands and how they feel inside mine. I love your eyes, because I know that there's more to you than what I already know. You might be able to keep secrets, but I can see that you have them. And I have no idea what's going on inside your head right now, but I want to know. I want to know you so much better." Air comes whooping back into my lungs. I feel like I'm hyperventilating. The tears come rolling down my cheeks, but my chest isn't constricted with pain or guilt. My shoulders are light. Easy tears.
Somehow I fall into his arms, my tears making his shirt wet. I cling to him and just cry. I let it all out. How much I want to kiss him and have him make me all better. How much I want to stay here just like this forever. How much I hate anyone who ever thought I would never have this. How much I hate my mother for so many other things. How much I hate myself for not seeing how important Kyle is to me. How much I wish Cassie was here.
I pull back from our hug. I can barely see with all the tears blurring my vision. I wipe my tears with my hand and look at his eyes. Our faces are so close and I can feel the words forming behind my lips. But I can't bring myself to say them. I love you, Kyle. Please, just be psychic like you always are.
I'm breathing heavily. Kyle wipes my tears away and just smiles at me. I smile too, laughing through my tears. I can taste the salt of my tears in my smile. Kyle's near crying too, only one tear threatening to fall. I start to giggle at us.
"A couple of teary-eyed idiots." I say, without filtering the statement.
"I don't think I'm an idiot." He smiles. I laugh, my whole body filling it. I wipe more tears away and I can see again.
"Oh really." I smile at him, devilishly. "I'm the idiot, am I?" Our bodies are close together, his hands warm against my stomach and back. I can feel his breath on my neck and shoulders. My hair tickles his chest as he takes off his shirt. Before we kiss, I smile and drag a finger across his smiling lips. Our kisses are soft at first, only growing with desire. I start to feel heat humming between our bodies and my skin craves to be closer to that heat. I cling to Kyle, his arms wrapping around me, his kisses burning deeper into mine. Kyle grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head. The soft, smooth feel of skin against skin, sliding and spreading warmth. Our presence together is a melting, smoky ember. My mind fades to pale red as my body simply feels.
The sun sets a while later and I look out the window. My muscles tired and my eyes lazy with the sense of feline satisfaction. Kyle sleeps soundly next to me. The pillow under my head feels hot and flat. I turn it over and place my hot cheek against its cool surface. Sleep comes easy, leaving my heart free of weight.
For now, my world is full. A large bowl of milk, cereal, berries, and us. My feet are heavy as I walk, my center of gravity growing with each passing hour. My hands feel empty and naked without his. It's not a foreign feeling, but my previous blank existence feels foreign now. I pondered to Bobby if I should be worried that I've changed so quickly.
"Angela, everyone loves to be loved. It's not human if you're unable to be addicted to love."
"Yeah, but it happened so suddenly. I mean, how well do I know Kyle? How well does he know me? Sometimes I feel like I've gotten too close too soon."
"And then he smiles at you and you forget what you were thinking?"
"Something like that..." A big grin silkens my expression.
"You're fine, Ang. To be honest, I think you were just waiting for someone like Kyle to come along. You look happy now, alive. He's opened you up. I'm jealous, actually."
"Jealous?"
"I'm only sorry that it wasn't me who could give you that."
Cassie said pretty much the same thing. Told me I was crazy not to be happy for myself. We talked about Andy.
"Cassie, it sounds like you two are getting serious. I don't have to worry about you, do I?"
"No, no worries. But I should tell you something sooner rather than later."
"Oh, I have something to tell you too."
"Really? You first."
"Ok, I bought a plane ticket." I pause. "I'm coming to see you for Christmas!"
"Christmas? Why Christmas? Ang, my Mom and Dad are coming out for Christmas...."
"Oh. Well, I can cancel the ticket. I won't get all my money back, but if it'll create problems..."
"No, come and visit. It's just a big surprise. I'll tell them to get a hotel room or something. They can't stay at my place anyway."
"Right, I might not even be able to stay over..." I giggle.
"Well, no, you'll have lots of space..." Cassie pauses.
"Did you move?" The phone line isn't silent, rather tense with static emotion.
"Uh-huh."
"But you needed a roommate..."
"Uh-huh."
"Oh God, Cassie. Did you and Andy move in together?"
"Yep."
"Holy shit! That's huge."
When I mentioned Cassie's news to Kyle, he was happy for her. I told him my news too. At first, he was surprised and a bit disappointed. But he understood. He has a best friend too. I told him it would be good for us to be apart for a couple of weeks, have stories to tell one another when we get back. I'll go see my best friend, he'll go see his.
"I'll miss you." And when I look in his eyes, I know I feel the same.