Джей Эшер: What Light

I slip off my second shoe, lift myself onto the edge, and then swing my socked feet around. It only takes a few minutes and we develop a rhythm as we circle and laugh around each other. One goes up as the other comes down. He keeps bouncing higher to give me more spring and soon we’re catching enough air for Caleb to get fancy and do a backflip.

It’s amazing to see him so free and unburdened. Not that he’s always serious, but this feels different, like he’s recapturing something he lost.

Despite his pleading, I refuse to attempt a flip, and eventually we both get tired enough to take a break. We plop down onto our backs. The night sky is brilliant with stars. We’re both breathing heavily, with only our chests moving up and down, slower and slower. After a minute of near stillness, the light on the garage flicks off.

“Look at those stars,” Caleb says.

The driveway is dark and the night is so quiet. I can only hear our breathing, a few soft crickets in the ivy, and a bird in a distant neighbor’s tree. Then, from Caleb’s side, I hear a metal spring squeak.

Keeping still so the light stays off, I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Moving very, very slowly,” he says. “I want to hold your hand in the dark.”

I move my head as little and as slowly as possible to look down at my hand. Our silhouettes are dark against the even darker stretch of trampoline. His fingers sneak closer to mine. Still needing to catch my breath, I wait for his touch.

A blue spark shoots between us. I jerk to the side. “Ow!”

The light kicks on and Caleb laughs hysterically. “I am so sorry!”

“You’d better be sorry,” I say. “That wasn’t romantic at all!”

“You can shock me back,” he says. “That’s romantic, right?”

Still on my back, I rub my feet back and forth hard against the trampoline, and then I reach over to his earlobe. Pzzt!

“Ah!” He grabs his ear, laughing. “That actually hurt!”

He pushes himself to his feet and then shuffles his socks across the surface of the trampoline in one big circle. I stand up and mirror his movements as we stare at each other.

“What, are we doing battle here?” I ask. “Bring it.”

“You bet we are.” He points a finger in front of him and lunges for me.

I duck to the side and zap his shoulder. “Twice! I got you twice.”

“All right, no more Mr. Nice Guy.”

I skip-jog to the other side of the trampoline, but he’s right behind me, his fingers reaching out. Watching his feet closely, I do a small hop to land just as he steps, fully knocking him off balance. He falls forward and I shock the back of his neck.

I throw my hands in the air. “Denied!”

Laid out, he looks up at me with an evil sneer. I glance around but there’s no escape on a trampoline. He does a quick hop to his knees and then his feet and tackles me. We bounce once and he twists so that I drop on top of him. The breath rushes out of me. His hands clasp behind my back, holding me tight. I raise my head enough to see his eyes, blow my hair out of his face, and we both laugh. Slowly, the laughing stops, our chests and stomachs breathing hard against each other.

He touches my cheek with his hand and guides me toward him. His lips are so soft against mine, sweetened with peppermint. I lean farther in and get lost kissing him. I slide off him to the mat and then he rolls himself on top of me. I wrap my arms around him and we kiss with more intensity. We pull back to catch our breaths and look into each other’s eyes.

There are so many things prickling in the back of my mind, threatening to take me out of this moment. But instead of worrying about anything, I close my eyes, lean forward, and allow myself to believe in us.

The drive back to the lot is mostly quiet. I find myself nearly hypnotized by Caleb’s keychain, swaying with our picture on Santa’s lap. If only this week would never end.

When he pulls into the lot and parks, he takes my hand. I look to the trailer, and a curtain in Mom and Dad’s room swings shut.

Caleb holds my hand tighter. “Thank you, Sierra.”

“For what?”

He smiles. “For bouncing on the trampoline with me.”

“Oh, my pleasure,” I say.

“And for making these past few weeks the best I’ve ever had.”

He leans over to kiss me, and once again I lose myself in his kiss. I trace my lips from his jaw to his ear and whisper, “Mine too.”

Pressing our cheeks together, listening to each other breathe, we don’t move. After next week, it will never be like this again. I want to hold this moment and imprint it on my heart so it never fades.

When I finally get out of the truck, I watch the taillights of his truck until they have long disappeared.

Dad walks up behind me. “That has to be the end, Sierra. I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”

I spin toward him.

He shakes his head. “It’s not the thing with his sister. Not just that. It’s everything.”

The warm and beautiful feeling I’ve experienced all evening bleeds out of me, replaced by a heavy dread. “I thought you were letting it go.”

“We’re leaving soon,” he says, “you know that. And you must know that you’ve been growing way too attached.”

I can’t find my voice or even the words to shout at him. Things were finally going right and he has to ruin that? No. I will not let him do this.

“What does Mom say?” I ask.

He turns slightly toward the trailer. “She doesn’t want you to get hurt, either.” When I don’t respond, he turns the rest of the way and begins to walk back to the cramped trailer that used to feel like home.

I turn toward the Christmas trees. Behind me, I can hear Dad’s boots shuffle up the metal steps and the door closing behind him. I can’t go in there. Not yet. So I walk into the trees, the needles scratching against my sleeves and pants. I sit down in the cool dirt where the outside lights can’t reach me.

I try to imagine myself back home, where these trees around me once grew, looking up at these same stars.

Back in the trailer, I barely sleep all night. When I first pulled open my curtains, the sun still hadn’t risen. I lay on my bed, looking out, watching the stars slowly begin to fade. The more they disappeared, the more lost I felt.

I decide to reach out to Rachel. We haven’t spoken since I missed her performance, but she knows me better than anyone, and I just need to tell her how I feel. I send her an apology text. I tell her I miss her. I tell her she would love Caleb but that my parents think I’m getting too close to him.

Eventually, she responds: Can I help?

I let out a deep breath and close my eyes, just so grateful to have Rachel in my life.

I tell her: I need a Christmas miracle.

In the long pause that follows, I watch the sun start to rise.

She answers: Give me two days.

Caleb shows up the next day with a big grin, carrying a package wrapped in Sunday comics and way too much tape. Behind him I can see Mom watching us. While visibly not thrilled, she stays with her customer.

“What’s that?” I ask, swallowing my fear of Dad returning from his lunch run. “I mean, besides an invitation to teach you how to wrap.”

He hands it to me. “There’s only one way to find out.”

The gift is somewhat floppy, and when I tear into the package I see why. It’s that silly knitted Christmas tree hat he wore the other day. “No, I think this belongs to you.”