Джей Эшер - What Light

“I gave you a lot of ammunition back there,” he says.

“To use against you?” I ask.

When he doesn’t answer, I’m a little upset he thinks I would possibly do that. Maybe neither of us has known the other long enough to be sure of anything.

“I would never do that,” I say. It is entirely up to him now whether he believes me.

We drive over a mile before he finally responds with a simple “Thank you.”

“I get the feeling enough people have already done that,” I say.

“It’s why I stopped telling most people the truth,” he says. “They’re going to believe what they believe, and I’m tired of explaining. The only people I owe anything to are Abby and my mom.”

“You didn’t have to tell me either,” I say. “You could have decided to—”

“I know,” he says. “I wanted to tell you.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the lot in silence, and I hope he feels less burdened now. Whenever I get painfully honest with any of my friends, I always feel a sense of lightness. That occurs only because I trust them. And he can trust me. If his sister says she forgives him, why should I hold anything against him? Especially knowing how much he regrets it.

We pull into the parking area of the tree lot. The snowflake lights around the perimeter are turned off, but the lampposts are still on for security. The lights inside the trailer are off and all the curtains are shut.

“Before you leave,” I say, “there is something else I need to know.”

With the engine running, he turns toward me.

“When it gets closer to Christmas,” I say, “will you be leaving to visit Abby and your dad?”

He looks down, but soon a smile appears on his lips. He knows I’m asking because I don’t want him to leave. “This is my mom’s year,” he says. “Abby’s coming here.”

I don’t want to hide my enthusiasm entirely, but I try to maintain some cool. “I’m glad,” I say.

He looks at me. “I’ll see my dad over spring break.”

“Will he be lonely at Christmas?”

“A little,” he says, “I’m sure. But another good thing about Abby living there is she forces him to get into the holiday spirit. She’s taking him out to get a tree this weekend.”

“She really is feisty,” I say.

Caleb faces the front window. “I was looking forward to doing that with them next year,” he says, “but now I don’t know. I think a big part of me won’t want to leave until the last minute before Christmas.”

“Because of your mom?” I ask.

With every second that passes without an answer, the more weightless I feel. Is he saying he’ll want to stay because of me? I want to ask—I should ask—but I’m too afraid. If he says no, I’d feel ridiculous for assuming. If he says yes, then I’d have to tell him that next year may not be like this year at all.

He steps out into the cool air and comes around to my door. He takes my hand and helps me out. We hold each other’s hands a moment more, standing so close. In this instant I feel closer to him than I have with any other guy. Even though I won’t be here for long. Even though I don’t know when I’m returning.

I ask him to come back tomorrow. He says he will. I let go of his hand and walk toward the trailer, hoping the silence in there will calm my rushing mind.

For the past three years I’ve gone to school with Heather for one day before their winter break. It began as a dare during one of her movie marathons; we were curious if her school would allow it. My mom called to find out, and since the high school principal used to be a teacher at the elementary school I went to each winter, she didn’t mind. “Sierra’s a good kid,” she said.

Heather applies eyeliner, looking into a tiny mirror stuck to the inside of her locker. “You asked him about it while eating pancakes?” she asks.

“Huge pancakes,” I say. “And Rachel told me to do it somewhere public, so…”

“What did he say?”

I lean against the next locker. “It’s not my story to tell. Just keep giving him a chance, okay?”

“I’m letting you hang out with him unchaperoned. I’d say that’s giving him a chance.” She caps her eyeliner. “When I heard the two of you were prancing all over town delivering Christmas trees like Mr. and Mrs. Claus, I figured the rumors must be exaggerated.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She shuts her locker. “So now that you two are legit, I should remind you why I encouraged a holiday fling to begin with.”

We both look down the busy hall to Devon, standing in a circle of his guy friends.

“Are you over that whole Winter Queen thing?” I ask.

“Believe me, I made him grovel over that,” she says. “A lot. Still, look at him! He should be standing over here with me. You’d think if he really liked me—”

“Stop!” I say. “Listen to yourself. First you want to break up, but you say you would never do that to him over the holidays. And yet when he doesn’t give you attention, you get despondent.”

“I do not get… ! Wait, is that like being all pouty?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I get despondent.”

Everything is clear now. This has never been about Devon being dull. It’s about Heather needing to feel like he wants her.

I follow her through the halls to her next class. We get stares from students and teachers who wonder who I am, or people who recognize me, realizing it’s that time of year again.

“You and Devon hang out a lot,” I say, “and I know you make out a lot, but does he know you really like him?”

“He knows,” she says. “But I don’t know if he likes me . I mean, he says he does. And he calls me every night, but that’s to talk about fantasy football and nothing at all important, like figuring out what I might want for Christmas.”

We leave the busy hall and walk into her English class. The teacher gives me a nod and a smile, and then he points to a chair already placed beside Heather’s desk.

As the tardy bell rings, Jeremiah skids into the room and takes the desk right in front of Heather. My heart beats faster. I replay that sad look on Jeremiah’s face when he walked past Caleb at the parade.

While the teacher fires up the SMART Board, Jeremiah turns to me. His voice is deep. “So you’re Caleb’s new girlfriend.”

I feel my face get warm and I freeze for a moment. “Who said that?”

“It’s not a big town,” he says. “And I know a lot of guys on the baseball team. Your dad’s reputation is legendary.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Oh, God.”

He laughs. “It’s all good. I’m glad you’re hanging out with him. It’s kind of perfect.”

I drop my hands and study him carefully. The teacher says something about A Midsummer Night’s Dream while messing with his computer, and people around us rummage through their notebooks. I lean forward and whisper, “Why is it perfect?”

He turns slightly. “Because of his tree thing. And your tree thing. It’s cool.”

Heather whispers at me. “Do not get me in trouble. I have to come back here tomorrow.”

As discreetly as I can, I ask, “Why don’t you hang out with him anymore?”

Jeremiah looks down at his desk and then tucks his chin against his shoulder to look back at me. “He told you we were friends?”

“He told me a lot,” I say. “He’s a really good guy, Jeremiah.”

He looks to the front of the room. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it?” I ask. “Or does your family make it that way?”

He winces a little and then looks at me like, Who is this girl?