Bonnie Nadzam - Lamb

“I think.”

He made a troubled face. “Tommie. I’m sort of out of familiar territory here. Do you understand?”

Nod.

“You feel a little bit the same way, don’t you? Please say yes or no. Please do me that courtesy.”

“Yes.”

“Yes you do?”

“Yes I do.”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“I think so.”

“You think so. Okay.” He held her, her head in his hand. She sat sideways on her knees. “I don’t know what to do here, Em.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He laughed. “You’re not going to help me, are you?”

She stared at him. He lifted her face again, close to his own. Her eyes were the largest he’d ever seen them. And here’s the truest statement anywhere about her: she was the loveliest, the most perfect creature he had ever had the honor to touch beneath the face, to take up in his arms. He pressed his mouth lightly to hers—it was very small and chaste. A fatherly kiss. Then he pulled his head back a little and surveyed her face in the dark. “We said we weren’t going to do that, didn’t we?” His voice was raspy. His breath smelled just faintly of beer. “But we both sort of wanted to, didn’t we?” She nodded, and he pulled her in and squeezed her then let go again. “Does this feel scary to you?”

Shrug.

“Does it feel like we’re doing something that isn’t allowed?”

“Sort of.” She was barely audible.

“Because I kissed you or because I’m older than you.”

Shrug.

“Don’t shrug on this one, Emily Tom. We need to look at this from every angle. We need to confront it, right? Is it because you’ve never kissed anyone before? Or because I’m a little older than you are?”

She nodded.

“Both?”

“Both,” she said.

“Good. I need to hear that. Let me tell you something about age, okay? When you get older, you begin to appreciate how short life is. I mean really short. I mean you really get to know it. Like in your bones. And what happens then, is everybody becomes a little ageless.”

“Oh.”

“Does that make sense?”

“A little.”

“Tell me something. Doesn’t Jessie ever kiss you good night?”

“No.”

“And no uncles? No grandfathers?”

“No.”

“So this would seem a little odd, wouldn’t it? Even though it’s a normal expression of affection.”

Nod.

“Do you think it doesn’t feel good to give you a kiss like that?”

No response.

“Let me say that another way. Do you think I’m trying to hurt you?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I’m not. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes when men and women kiss and are… you know, like that with each other. Sometimes people get their hearts broken, right? People sometimes get hurt. That’s how it’s said. Right?” He held her close. She was like a little furnace. He drew her up onto his lap. “Maybe that’s what happened to Sid? Or to your mom, right?”

“When Sid’s cousin broke up with her boyfriend, she cut up her arms with a fork.”

Lamb made a face. “Because her heart was broken?”

“I think so.”

“Oh, Em. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that.”

“I would never.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You love life too much. It’s partly that love of life that I saw in you that day in the parking lot.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. And I want you to know there are ways we can keep our hearts safe. There are ways we can keep your heart from breaking, and mine.”

“There are?”

He laughed a little in the dark. “Of course there are. And that’s exactly what we’re doing by talking about this. And that’s exactly what we’ll continue to do. Do you understand?” He looked down at her.

“You will. I promise. When you’re twenty and I’m dead and gone and you look back on this night, you are not going to feel heartbroken. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to put your head in my lap and just sit here a little while?”

“Okay.”

“Here you go. Let’s just sit here a minute like this. And look down at your face and see if you look like you have a fever. We’re not going to sleep on this hard floor. We’re just resting together.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re comfortable. No you are not.” He moved his fingers in small circles in her hair, in her scalp.

“That feels good.”

“I know it does. Was it a pretty night out there?”

“I was too sad.”

“Was it even more sad because the night was pretty?”

“Yes.”

“My heart is just like yours. Did you know that?”

“It is?”

“It is.”

“That’s how we knew to go back to the parking lot.”

“That’s right.” He laughed. “That’s right.” They lay still. “Em?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to rest on the bottom bunk awhile? And I can check you for a fever until morning? This floor is killing my old bones.”

She pressed the back of her head against his blue jeans, looking at him, and he lifted her onto his knee and pulled her up. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He kissed the cheek, and kissed the jaw, and kissed her mouth. “Okay?”

She nodded.

He stood up, still holding her, supporting her bottom on his hip and arm. She draped her arms around his neck like a child. He took her into the little bunk room. “Do you want some cool water?” He felt her shrug. “Are you just going to shrug now all the time?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Stubborn girl.”

She shrugged again. And our guy told her it would be his understanding, from here on out, that whenever she shrugged, it would mean she was saying how much she liked him. It would be her way of saying yes.

He set her down. “Are you too warm in those clothes?”

She looked down at her blue jeans and shirt. “Not too.”

“We should at least take off our socks. So we don’t inadvertently plant a grasslands in the sheets. Careful. Those little seeds are sharp.”

They sat beside each other on the bottom bunk and removed their socks. He laid them neatly over the back of the metal chair. “Good,” he said. “Can you stand a minute? I’d like to turn down the bed for you, dear.” He pulled back the blanket and sheet, folding the wool blanket into quarters at the end of the bed, unzipped his sleeping bag wide and laid it over the top, then held it all open for her. “Go on,” he said. “Climb in.”

When they were both in, he pulled her up so her head was on his shoulder, her tiny arm over the great barrel of his chest, and he turned his head down a little to see her face.

“Em. Does this remind you of anything? A movie? A TV show?”

“What?”

“This. Now. This little house, and the shop, and you and me in it, and nothing else around. The things we’re sharing. Did you ever see a TV show like this or a movie or something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think hard.”

“I am.”

“Think of all the movies and songs and books you know. Are any of them like this?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? Double sure?”

“Double sure.”

“Isn’t that good news?”

“I guess.”

“Remember when we said if we went back far enough in time, the planet would be flooded with seawater, and we’d have to reinvent the world from scratch?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember we said this time, we’d get it right?”

“I remember.”

“That was just pretend, right? But Em”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“I think we’re really doing it. Because no one’s ever had this before. Do you understand? No one gets to have this, what we’re having. No one ever has. We’re inventing it.”