Page 77 of Fade into You
She falls asleep, but I’m wide awake. Because I can see the line now. That invisible thread that connects us, hearts fulland beating, here in my bedroom, to all that hate and darkness and death out there. Instead of fear or sadness and tears, I’m just numb.
Jessa startles awake to my mom’s voice over the static of the baby monitor, talking to Aimee and Ava. She bolts upright, saying, “Oh shit. Bird? Liv!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. My mom just got home. It’s okay; we’re still alone.”
“Fuck,” she breathes, and runs a hand through her hair. “Okay. Um, okay, I should probably go.”
We straighten ourselves up before heading downstairs. I smooth her hair and she laughs as she points to my pants, zipper and button still undone. I look in the mirror and decide my hair can’t pass for not having been rolling around in bed and pull it into a quick ponytail instead.
She reaches for the doorknob, but I place my hand on her wrist—I can feel her pulse racing. “Wait a sec.”
“What?”
I kiss her.
She kisses me back but pulls away first, lets her forehead rest against my collarbone for a second. When she looks up again, she kisses me one more time and then opens the door.
Downstairs, Bailey is home from his after-school activities, playing on his Game Boy, and doesn’t notice us entering the living room. “Hey, Bay,” I call over to him anyway. “This is Jessa.”
“Hey,” Jessa offers. But he just grunts a syllable in return.
The twins come tumbling out of the hallway, my mom trailing behind them.
“Oh, hello,” she says, looking between me and Jessa. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jessa, my… my friend.”
“Jessa, nice to meet you. Are you a senior too?”
“Um, yes. Yep. Senior too. We have journalism class together.”
“Well, I was just thinking I don’t feel like cooking. Anybody feel like pizza?”
To this, Bailey shouts, “Yes! Pepperoni.”
“Sure,” I answer.
“Jessa?” Mom says, scoring a couple of points in my book for actually listening and remembering how to pronounce her name. “You’re welcome to stay for pizza.”
“Oh, no, I should get home. But thank you.” I hand Jessa her bag, and it’s an upside-down feeling to hear her casually say, “So, see ya in class tomorrow,” after everything.
“Right. O-okay. Bye, Jessa.”
I close the door behind her and turn around. Mom has the pizza place menu in her hand and when she glances up, she looks at me for a moment. A real moment. “You okay?” she asks.
I wish I could tell her no. I wish I could tell her the truth.
But the moment passes and she looks down, and just as I’m turning to go back upstairs, she says, “Jessa seems cool.”
“Yeah,” is all I can say.
“Interesting hair,” she adds.
“Ilike it,” I tell her, with perhaps a bit too much attitude.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Birdie. Jeez, I just said—”
“I’m gonna go upstairs, finish my homework.”
