Elastic Heart

“Holy shit!” I gasped. “What was that?”

“My accent.” Law smiled crookedly. “I trained to eradicate it. An accent is one of the easiest ways to blow your cover. Doesn’t mean I can’t pull it out as a pahty trick.”

“My stepdad is from Boston,” I mused. I turned back to people-watch but the man in the Patriots shirt was gone. Tony loved the Patriots. He had everything from a blanket to pajamas to cups. I didn’t like sports, much less love a team enough to deck myself out in their gear, but I loved that he loved them. “He has a thick accent. We used to make fun of him for it.”

“Used to?” Law asked.

I didn’t really feel like digging up the graves of my parents in the busy Boston airport, so I changed the subject. “Did you pick all those dandelions?”

Law sat up and turned to me. “Yes.”

“How? Where?” I paused, stewing over his answer, befor

e asking again, “How?”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” Law replied, a wicked half-smile on his lips. When he smiled like that he reminded me of the gods I’d studied briefly in college, the ones lauded for such extreme beauty that mortals couldn’t comprehend it. Just like the gods, he was consistently tricky, never giving without expecting some kind of sacrifice in return. I folded my arms, preparing my lamb.

“I no longer make fun of him because my mom is dead so the tradition kind of died with her.”

Instead of giving me the usual spiel of condolence, Law asked, “Why can’t you?” It took me by surprise. I was used to having to fend off half-sincere sorries and hugs. Law had asked a question I genuinely wasn’t ready for.

“I already answered your stupid question,” I huffed. “Answer mine.”

Law shrugged back into the seat. “I drove to a few known dandelion fields.”

“How many is a few?” Leaning forward so that I was practically in his seat, I pressed my question.

“I answered your stupid question, you answer mine.” Law grinned at me as he repeated my insolent statement.

“Fine,” I huffed, sitting back into my own seat. “I can’t go to Tony because I’m afraid of what will happen. I’m afraid the paparazzi will hound him…” I trailed off, staring at a man with a Patriot’s hat. “I’m afraid he won’t want to talk to me any more.” So many “friends” had dropped me like dead weight during the scandal. I’d already lost two parents. I couldn’t bear losing Tony as well.

Minutes passed where neither of us said a word. Law slipped farther into his seat, head relaxed on his arm. I watched his eyes close and his jaw relax. It felt like watching a bear sleep. All that raw, condensed power slumbering felt unnatural. With my hand still entwined in his, I wondered if that meant a part of me was sleeping with the animal.

Law affected the deep rumblings of sleep, his chest rising and falling like the tide. I turned my attention to the windows so I could watch the airplanes land and liftoff. As I watched another plane leave, its lights disappearing in the dark sky, Law spoke, his voice startling me from my quiet vigil.

“I went to about a hundred different fields.”

“Will you tell me more about your sister?” I whispered.

I wasn’t sure if Law had gone to sleep. It was impossible to tell with him. His head rested on his hand and his eyes were closed, but with Law that didn’t mean shit. He could easily be awake and listening. It had taken a lot of courage to ask the question and I wasn’t sure if I could ask it again. I almost wished he was asleep.

As minutes passed with no response, I concluded that Law was indeed asleep. It had been twenty minutes since Law had dropped the dandelion bomb on me and still we had about twenty minutes before boarding. He’d dozed off, or at least it looked like he had, and I’d been left stupefied.

Over a hundred different fields? That was…unbelievable. Then again, Law was unbelievable. In the twenty minutes since he’d dropped the bomb, I’d stewed. I’d realized I knew so very little about Law. I felt like I knew him; on a carnal level, on a visceral level, on the kind of level where atoms existed, I knew Law. Yet, on the level where sisters disappeared, I didn’t know him at all.

“Her name was Jane—Janey.” I snapped my attention to Law. His eyes were still closed and his head still rested on his arm, but he had responded to me. I watched him, waiting for him to say more. Maybe all he would tell me was that she was “Janey”.

“She didn’t look much like me, actually we were very different.” Law sat up, slowly straightening his back and opening his eyes. “Janey had light skin and freckles. Her hair was red I think…” Law trailed off and I looked over to see what had stopped him. His gaze was pinned to the wall, but his mind was far off.

I thought about what he’d said. His profile was all hard edges and lines, but his skin was smooth without any imperfections; not even a mole marred the olive tone. Law was tan, his skin intense like desert sand. He had light brown hair that I loved to mess up with my hands. I still wasn’t sure what his heritage was, but that seemed like such a small secret in comparison to the others I’d unearthed.

“I wish I remembered more about her,” Law continued. “After the search parties stopped and the police closed her case, my parents threw away all her pictures. They gave away all of her clothes and furniture—anything that might remind them of her.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to continue.”

“No,” Law said. “No, it’s good. I haven’t talked about her in years. I’ve thought about her. Almost every day I’ve thought about her. Throwing away her stuff and burning her pictures didn’t dissolve her presence; if anything, it amplified it. We could never talk about her. We never mourned her. We never gave her a funeral. We simultaneously forgot about her and waited for her to return.”

Emotion clogged my throat. Not sure what to do to ease his pain, I wrapped myself around him. I squeezed tight, wishing I could suffocate all the bad that had been done to him. Law tensed up at first but then relaxed. He started stroking my hair.