Page 112 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
“Through here.” Current-day Skye pointed toward two cookie-cutter houses and the leafy space between them that opened to a woodsy path.
Celene couldn’t explain why her pulse quickened. It wasn’t like she hadn’t jogged past this area. “Is this private property?”
“Yeah, probably.” Then, Skye raised a hand at a woman outside one of those houses, about their age, culling a bag of groceries from her car trunk. Yielding’s very own princess yelled out, “Heading through here really quick. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Skye, hey. Go for it,” the woman in a loose flannel replied, waving a bundle of carrots in her hand. Lacking any suspicion that’d come second nature in Celene’s upbringing, she walked to her front door. Resuming her life as Skye pulled a stranger past her tall, wooden fence.
“She and I were lab partners in high school,” Skye informed Celene, tugging her by the hand. “She’s sweet. Back then, her dog would chase me on my bike, though.”
Celene’s shoes squished onto wet pine needles the further they trekked. Unpleasant, as was the itchiness of the taller stalks of glass. But she followed, feeling worlds away from society instead of a ten-minute walk. She recognized nothing, though a longing teased at her, right in the heartstrings.
“This is it.” Skye stopped them in an area studded with weathered construction markers—cement blocks caked with lichen, broken down pallets, distinctly leveled earth where pavement probably would’ve gone. “Development started, then the project was abandoned, I guess. But our tree didn’t make it. It would’ve been around...” With the toe of her shoe, Skye drew a big X in a particularly thick patch of weeds. “Here.”
A first, to miss a tree that probably matched the ones surrounding them. Celene must’ve had a cycle coming up soon, because everything made her emotional today. Clearingher throat, she gathered the rolled-up beach towel from the backpack. “Want to sit?”
Celene didn’t know what she’d wanted from this visit, though Skye leaned her elbows onto her knees with her eyes closed, at peace. Attuned to the forest. That may have been reason enough.
Waving a mosquito from her legs and any hovering near Skye’s, Celene chose to appreciate their environment. Branches above swayed in whispers; gray clouds hugged the sky.
Everything was probably magnified in Skye’s head, where Celene presumed colors were lustrous and the occasional rasp of deer feeding sounded like music.
“You were crying under a birch when I met you,” Skye whispered, as she often did in their quiet time. “A black birch. They’re trickier to climb because their branches grow at an angle. I was about to hop down when you showed up and changed my whole summer.”
Celene touched the pointed tips of her flats together to a light rhythm. “I was mad at Elise.”
“Ah, consistency.”
They laughed, keeping it as low as possible. Celene bumped her shoulder, and Skye bumped her back.
“A lot of money and effort went into the mosaic business. My grandparents expanded our house, adding the private suite so they could comfortably work around the clock with my parents.” Skye paused to imitate a bird Celene couldn’t spot, smiling when it called back. “I loved being homeschooled. Cosmo didn’t. For years, he enrolled in public school, and one day, everyone decided I needed more friends. So, they sent me to school, too...” She used a pale stick to carve grooves into the dirt. “It wasn’t an easy transition for me.”
They were destined to know each other, fortified by Celene offering, “I didn’t have that many friends in school, either.Teachers hinted at me being hostile towards my classmates.” Shrugging, she smirked. “Maybe I was.”
“Do you know why?”
“Why was I an unfriendly child?” Celene slid closer to Skye, correcting the towel beneath her as it creased. “Nobody understood me. And everyone was sonoisy.” They swapped sly grins. Celene wrapped an arm around Skye, dragging fingers over her shoulder. “Some people are born difficult, and I’m one of them.”
Skye parted her lips as if she wanted to dispute that, then let it go. “I can relate. Always spacey, head in the clouds. Any pun for my name, I’ve heard it.”
Celene wanted to kiss her. Though she needed to assure her. “I’m a little too grounded. We balance each other out, wouldn’t you say?”
Honeysuckle and Celene’s moisturizer—Skye smelled like them combined, distinct in the rain-soaked wilderness of birches and pines. Head slanted, she searched Celene’s face—her lips and eyes earning the most attention. “I’m so glad you came back.”
Engulfed in the fondness in Skye’s stare, Celene sighed. “Me, too.”
She knew it’d come before Skye spoke the word. And yet, her breath stilled at “Dragonfruit.”
“Dragonfruit,” Celene replied.
“Why haven’t you listed the house yet?”
The definite whirl of vulnerability tied Celene’s chest into knots. Her hands kept toying with Skye’s hair, as something to tether her to earth. “How come you’ve only told me about your art?”
“Okay,” Skye dropped a leg to shuffle even closer, beauty unreasonably jarring like this. “You first. Your biggest reason.”
This town boasted more amenities than she’d given it credit.
Her improvements cured the house of unsightliness.
