Second First Impressions

I finally speak. “You’re messing up all my plans.” My anger has burned out, leaving me cold and sad.

“You’re messing up mine.”

“How?”

“You believe that I can achieve my goal. You are so completely sure that I’m going to leave here on schedule and that I’ll have my own key to the studio.” He says it like I’m wrong.

“Should I be sorry for that?”

“No. It’s just no one ever has before. I can’t quite process this kind of total confidence. It’s because I haven’t disappointed you yet.” He turns his face away into shadow. “And I keep finding myself wondering what would happen if I just gave up. This isn’t so bad at all.”

“Take it from someone who had a dream once and never pursued it. You’ve got to keep going. Keep pushing.” It’s starting to require more and more energy to keep up this façade of platonic-friend cheerleader. “I pick a light down there and I visit it every night. If you have a day where Renata’s humiliated you, or you’re sick of living in poverty, just come up here and visit your light.”

“Which one’s yours?” He stares at the town. “And what are you wishing for?”

“You know what I wish for. That’s why I got so mad at you today. I don’t have that many chances in my life, so every single one counts.”

I walk back down the hill, my big shadow right behind.

“What if I don’t want to succeed,” he says to my back when I’m unlocking my cottage door. “What if I just want to spend it all on a vacation? Or maybe I’ll just mooch around Providence indefinitely.”

I feel a few things. My heart soars with hope, of course. My head quickly shuts it down. “You can’t be too sure that Providence is going to exist indefinitely. I’m getting less confident about it by the day.”

“I’ll just retire here, now.”

“No you won’t.” I open my door and walk inside to drop my thrift store purchases on the couch. For once, he doesn’t follow me inside. “Sometimes it’s really hard being the selfless one,” I grouch to myself.

Outside in the courtyard, the full moon is giving his hair a silver cast. He looks like an erotic nightmare, a black shape that should make me want to run. He’s sitting on a courtyard chair, long legs kicked out in angles. A lap has taken shape, but it would be a challenge to sit on. The thought rattles me and I’m glad of the dark. I go to close my front door when he speaks.

“You think you’re done with me?”

How the hell am I meant to respond? “Ahh . . .”

“Because I’m not done with you.”

You know that special, husky manipulative voice he’s so good at putting on whenever he needs something from me? It’s in its purest form right now. I lose balance; one of my knees has unlocked. It’s that kind of voice.

“It’s late.”

“I really don’t think we reached our full potential.” His hand slides down his thigh and pats it. “Come here. Get your real kiss.”

Surely he’s a test, sent my way, because how is it possible to resist an offer like that?

He keeps talking. “I want you to do what you did to me in the change room. Just longer and hotter. And kinda . . . wrap my hair around your hand.” His legs move in a restless way. “I’m gonna put my hand into the pocket of your cardigan real slow.”

“What has come over you?” My feet take me closer.

He glints a smile back at me. “I got a taste of you. And I’m being the brave one. I know you’re just gonna go inside and sweat over me all night.”

“What’s it like being this arrogant?” I make him blink with that. “I have never met

anyone in my entire life who was so sure that he was irresistible.”

“Irresistible to you.”

I ignore that. “Was it how you were raised? You’ve got four sisters, right? Were you the spoiled baby, indulged in every way, and when you’re not getting a thousand percent of someone’s attention you feel weird?”

The silence that falls over the courtyard now is absolutely piercing.