Through to You (24 page)

“Hi …” I say unabashedly to her cleavage.

She laughs. “Go around front—I’ll meet you at the door.”

She moves from the window, and without the vision of her to occupy me, my brain is jolted back to the shrinking green light. I stumble quickly around the side of the house. She holds the door wide open and hurries me inside. She takes my icy hand in hers and guides me to the living room in front of a roaring fire.

I gaze at her as she gently rubs my fingers and blows on them.

How could Nina ever think Viv is capable of murder?

“There, is that better?” she asks, slipping off my jacket. “Hey, where’s all your stuff?”

I hesitate, making a production of warming myself by the fire.

“No toothbrush, no pj’s?” She raises an eyebrow. “Will you be sleeping in the buff?”

“I didn’t think we’d need a whole lot of … accessories,” I say. If I do this carefully, maybe she won’t freak out. I move to the couch and pull her into my lap. She smells amazing. Her legs stretch out, endless and smooth in front of me.

I tear my eyes away and blink several times. God, I need to focus.

“Wasn’t your mom and dad’s lawyer coming by or something?”

“It’s under control.” She runs her fingers under the edge of my shirt, setting my skin on fire. I lose concentration. “Oh, I snagged you a six-pack from my dad’s supply in the garage....”

She gets up and hurries out of the living room before I can stop her. I sit up and rub a hand over my face. I should’ve gotten straight to the point when I walked in. She returns a moment later and pops open two cans.

“Maybe we should go … to my room?”

I glance past her down the hall that leads to her bedroom and imagine her soft pink bedspread and pictures all over the walls—except I have to remind myself they won’t be the images in my memory. The ones on her wall in this world are full of strange faces, people I’m not used to, and things I never did. That shot of the Red King and Queen is directly over her bed.

“It’s nice here,” I say hastily. “Maybe in a little while?”

“Oh … okay.” She sits down next to me and hands me a beer.

“To second chances.”

“Second chances,” I echo. The beer is bitter and weak. I swallow fast. “Viv, I …”

“Shh …”

Her fingers trace their way up my thigh, running along the waistband of my jeans while she lays kisses all the way up my neck to my mouth. I close my eyes, distracted, tasting the cherry ChapStick on her lips. I should stop her—I will—in a second. How many months have I longed for this? I lean back, running my hand up over her shoulder blades to her hair, and let myself dissolve into her skin. Her scent surrounds me, warm, familiar, and comforting. I don’t think I realized what it was like to miss her until this moment.

She shifts, and the side of the couch digs into my back. I ignore it. She tilts her head, smiles, and reaches for my belt.

I take a deep breath, trying to shut off my brain. This is actually going to happen. We can talk—after.

Viv straddles my lap, putting all her weight on my right knee.

“Ow!”

I jerk my leg up instinctively, and almost clip her chin. She scrambles back to the other end of the couch, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

I trace the edge of her shorts regretfully with my eyes, and sigh.

“The light … the window through … whatever you want to call it, it’s getting smaller.”

She frowns. “So?”

“At the corner—Viv, we can’t go back and forth anymore.”

She sits forward. My disjointed explanation must be sinking in. “What are you talking about? Of course we can.”

I shake my head. “I barely got through tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “But
—why
?”

“I don’t know!”

She jumps up from the couch, knocking a pillow to the floor.

“Then we have to go!”

A knot forms in my stomach. She’s right; we should get up now and
go
…

“We will, but Viv—”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She dashes toward the hall, stops, then lurches back toward me, frantic. “It can’t close before we leave! I can’t stay here! We have to go!”

“I didn’t know—” It’s like a cloud has settled inside my head. “Viv, we can’t go yet.”

She brushes a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth and looks at me like my head is on backward. She glances at the door, but stays where she’s standing, breathing hard.

“Why?”

I wet my lips and look back up at her. The edge of her camisole has ridden up to reveal bare skin just above the rise of her shorts.

I can’t take it. My
body
chickens out.

“You’ll never be able to come back, as far as I know,” I say quickly. “Your parents and all your friends might think—”

She cuts me off. “Are you joking?”

“No.”

Viv glares at the ceiling and rakes a hand through her carefully styled hair. But then she closes her eyes and makes an obvious effort to breathe more slowly. She straightens her top and marches back over, positioning herself next to me on the couch.

“Cam, how many times can I tell you?” She takes my hand. “I don’t care.”

The knot in my gut twists at her touch. Her voice may be calm, but her eyes are resolved.

“I know, I just thought—”

“Don’t you want me?” Her voice is small.

My palms go clammy. “Of course I do!”

“Then … what are you saying?” she asks. She traces lines across my palm, but her grasp is tight. She lifts her gaze to meet mine and her eyes are steely. “You’re trying to go back without me?”

“Never.” I squeeze her hand, trying to stay calm, but my words come out panicked. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“Regrets.” She tightens her grip on me until it starts to become uncomfortable. “Do
you
have any regrets?”

A blue car.

The thought enters my mind at the worst possible moment. I force my gaze down, afraid Viv will be able to tell. I turn her hand over in mine. Her fingers are long and slender; her nails are filed and polished. These hands couldn’t kill …

But then I picture her knuckles white, gripping a steering wheel.

“Viv …” I speak carefully. “I know what happened that night.”

The words are out, hanging between us. Hers now, to confirm or deny.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She jerks away from me, gets up, and walks to the other end of the room. She snatches a cigarette from her father’s desk, but whirls around and strides back with it unlit in her hand. “Did
Nina
say something? She’s a liar, she’s obsessed—”

“I—I just want to understand,” I stammer. “Viv, please …”

She looks at me long and hard, then she takes a matchbook off an end table, strikes twice, and lights up. She takes a drag and tosses her curls, putting one hand on her hip. She inspects something on her arm that only she can see, and brushes it away. Then slowly, shakily, she sinks back onto the couch next to me and closes her eyes.

“
He
didn’t want to understand.” She opens her eyes and lets her fingers trace down my throat to my chest. “I’ve missed touching you so much.”

My heart hammers like it might race right out of my body, but my skin stays cold. I want to scream for her to say something else. This can’t be what she means … what it sounds like.

“So,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm. “You did it—”

“He didn’t know what he wanted.” Her voice breaks. “She tried to take you away from me.”

The knot inside me pulls so tight, I feel like I’m being cut in two. I’m not sure if she’s talking about
him
or
me
anymore, but I don’t think it matters. I can’t move.

She sets the cigarette in an ashtray and pulls closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. My muscles tense. She runs her fingers up my arm, my neck, and starts playing with my hair like she’s bewildered that I’m really there. I stare down at this face I know so well. These deep brown eyes, full lips, and arching brows. I know every flicker of fear, doubt, or affection that’s ever crossed these features. But when I look into her eyes now—I see a stranger.

I feel sick; it hurts to breathe. The elation of when I first saw her again—all the renewed hope for the future—seems to crack and splinter. I clench my hands, but pain spreads up my arms, into my body, working its way through each muscle and bone.

“Cam?”

“
She
would never have done that to me....” I whisper.

“If she loved you as much as I do, she would have.” Her voice is calm. “So no one else could have you.”

I can’t move. I can’t speak.

She sits up fast. “But that doesn’t matter! Not now! We’ll go through to your side and start over—Tahiti, Cam! It’ll be like nothing ever happened!” Her voice cracks. “You already quit football like I said you should, there won’t be anyone there to interfere. It’ll just be the two of us....”

I close my eyes. “Because who needs them when we have each other?”

“Exactly!”

I blink hard. Those places to go, things we dreamed, were gone before we ever shared them. I just never knew it. I rise from the couch and walk to the front door.

“Wait … where are you going?” Viv comes running after me. “Cam!”

I open the door and a blast of cold air blows over us, into the house—or at least it must be cold, by the way she shrieks and tries to push the door closed. All I feel is numb.

“Cam, it’s freezing!” She wraps her arms around herself, trying to cover her sensuous, dangerous curves. “Close the door and help me pack!”

I shake my head because she doesn’t
get it
. I push the door away from her with an unsteady hand, and that’s when I realize I’m not numb at all—I’m completely terrified. I step outside, and she flies out the door after me, hanging off my arm.

“Where are you going? Cam, come inside! Please—” she wails. “Cam, please, it was an accident—
I tried to stop
—”

Her feet are bare. She digs her heels in, but then she drags along the ground crying, and I just wish she’d let go—because every time I dreamed of having her on my arm, it never looked like this. A few lights come on across the street. It starts to snow as I hit the sidewalk.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs.

Tears burn the corners of my eyes. I jerk her off my arm and hear her fall into a heap on the ground. I can’t look at her—I can’t see.

I run.

I THINK I
’
M HEADED TOWARD THE SCHOOL. THE STREETS AND HOUSES
look right, but whenever I focus too hard everything in front of me starts to blur. I just keep going. Faint white flakes keep floating past my face. I left my jacket at Viv’s, but there’s no way I’ll go back for it now. I pull my sleeves over my fingers and listen to my shoes hit the pavement in a sad, slow rhythm.

Nina was right.

This thought breaks through the hum of my movement, clear and shrill. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I have to get home—I can’t stay in a world where I’m dead.

I reach a familiar corner, but it’s not the one I’m looking for, not yet. I glare up at the street sign to figure out how far I still have to go, and manage to make out one word:
GENESEE
.

A snowflake flies directly into my eye. I squeeze it shut, cursing, trying to douse the ice with tears. When I blink again, the route before me looks clearer than anything I’ve seen all night.

There’s a flickering blue TV glow in Nina’s upstairs window, which warms something inside me better than any roaring fire. I have no idea what time it is, but somebody here is up.

The bell chimes loudly when I push the button, and almost immediately the faint murmur coming from upstairs is muted. The blue glow stays in the window. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with the tiny peephole, but when I hear the bolt slide and the handle turn, I hold my breath.

She doesn’t say anything at first. It’s like the first time we sized each other up through the green light. Only this time, she doesn’t look at me like I’m dead. And now I realize she must have been there then, holding vigil, the same way I was.

“You were right,” I say. “It was Viv.”

She brings her hand to her mouth. Her eyes slide over me, slumped against her door frame, half-frozen with no jacket. I don’t even want to guess what my face looks like.

“Cam, I’m so sorry.” She steps toward me and reaches out, but I move back and she stops. “Are you all right?”

I press my lips together and nod, but I can’t look at her.

She opens the door all the way. “Come inside, it’s snowing.”

I step in and let her close the door.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? A blanket?”

I lean my back against the door and shake my head. “I have to go.”

“Yeah.” She nods slowly. “You do.”

Our eyes finally meet, and I steel myself for her judgment. But what I see in her gaze isn’t at all what I expected. There’s no I-told-you-so or impatience, no demands to admit she’s right. Viv would have worked this situation any way she could. Nina’s light brown eyes are filled with compassion, and nothing else.