Page 47 of Night So Silent
Eventually, Barrett’s silvery eyes open and she looks up at me with contentment. I look back at her, savoring the dewy glow of her skin and the rich darkness of her hair framing her face. And we stay like that for nearly an hour; silent, only speaking in soft touches and lingering stares, effortless exchanges that slowly burn beneath the surface.
Finally, Barrett reaches for my face and pulls my lips to hers. As soon as I kiss her, her chest caves like she’s letting out a breath she’s been holding for years. If I’m her air, then she’s my water, because kissing her is like taking a drink and not realizing you were dying of thirst. I like the silence with her. It overflows where it was hollow before.
There’s a buzz across the room from her phone on the countertop. She ignores it until it stops vibrating, only for it to start again a minute later. She casts an irritated glance over her shoulder and then pushes up, kissing me once more before gingerly crossing the living room. She squints at her illuminated screen and then immediately answers.
“Hi!” she squeaks before clearing her throat. “Yeah, I’m still here…I’m not sure yet…”
As she talks, she wanders toward the hall and then strolls back to the bedroom. While she’s gone, I reach for my phone on the side table. Seeing no calls or texts yet, I set it back down and debate whether to follow up on a search I’ve been conducting that’s rather…time sensitive. It’s been a couple of days and I don’t have much time left.
After a few minutes, Barrett reappears, returning her phone to the counter on her way back to the sofa.
“It was my mom,” she explains, fidgeting with her sleeve as she sits down. “She asked if I have a flight out yet, since tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.” She says it with a hint of uneasiness. “Are the roads even clear yet?”
“They might be,” I reply.
Barrett doesn’t respond right away, only glances around the room.
“What areyoudoing for Christmas?” she finally asks.
“I told Brett I would go to their house. Same as I did last year.”
“You don't celebrate Christmas otherwise?”
“No.” I would leave it at that, but these particular holiday plans seem important to her. “My memories of Christmas were replaced by a strange place where the only thing I recognized was the smell of the pines in the forest.”
Her brow arches slightly. “You left Russia atChristmastime?”
I nod.
“OK, well, what about before that?”
“Before that…” I trail off, debating whether to continue. “Before that, Christmas was Christmas.” I clear my throat, not giving her a chance to ask more questions. “What's your family like?”
“My family?” Her voice hitches at the question. “Um…” She pauses, then smiles. “You would be overwhelmed. My family’s the type you have to escape every hour or so before you're overcome with spiked eggnog and suffocated with wrapping paper.”
“But you enjoy them,” I infer.
“Yes,” she nods. “It’s my favorite time of the year.” Her demeanor changes as she skips from one question to the next. “Ifyou don’t go back to Vancouver for Christmas, do you visit your parents at other times of the year?”
“Yes. I go in the summer when it’s the hottest here.”
Barrett finally breaks into a smile. “I don’t like the heat, either. MaybeIshould move further north.”
“Do you want to leave your home?”
“I…I didn’t used to. I don’t want to leave my family, of course, but things have gotten stressful. I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s a season or a sign.”
“Do you like it here?” I ask.
We both know what’s hanging in the thick silence, what’s transpired that’s also at odds with the world she plans on returning to.
“Yes,” Barrett sighs. “I do like it here. The mountains are beautiful, and Brett’s here…” She gives a faint smile. “And you’re here.”
The way she says it gnaws at my chest. Probably because it draws attention to the fact that I’m here and she’s planning onnotbeing here.
“Why don’t you—” but she cuts herself off before she can finish.
“Why don’t I what?”
