The first Thursday in October I dug out my lime green sweater bin, unpacked my sweaters and packed up my summer clothes. Then I threw on my favorite red sweater and walked to the grade school to get Cass. On the way back to my apartment she told me all about a boy at school whose name was Isaac. He wore dark, ugly glasses and they make him look like a nerd. He was a big, fat jerk because he always cut in front of her in the lunch line, always aimed for her at recess when the kids played dodge ball, always said her name without the “C” and you know what that spells, don’t you Tess? I nodded sympathetically and didn’t bother to tell her that he singled her out like that because he had a crush on her. She knew. And, of course, she liked him right back. Because if she didn’t she wouldn’t have mentioned his dark, ugly glasses that made him look like a nerd. He’d just be a big, fat jerk.

   We tossed a Frisbee around the front lawn because pretty soon it would be too cold for it. Pretty soon, I said, there’d be snow. Cassidy smiled and said she couldn’t wait, because winter was her favorite time of year. Time for snowmen and snow forts and snow angels. When the ground was covered with a beautiful white carpet and the trees sparkled with icy diamonds. I smiled right back and told her I’d never noticed the diamonds before. But that I’d be sure to look for them. Once it was winter.

   And then she said, “Another reason I can’t wait is because Brian promised he’d take me plowing with him this year. Even when it storms in the middle of the night. I think it’s gonna be wicked fun.”

   I nodded, because I knew that it was. It was the most fun I’d had with him with our clothes on. Then she said:

   “Did you know that his house is all gone?”

   The Frisbee hit my forehead. Because I hadn’t thought to catch it. I blinked a few times, then managed: “Oh?”

   “Yep.”

   I picked up the Frisbee and tossed it gently. “So…he’ll be all ready to build his new house in the spring.”

   “Yep.”

   Laura arrived a few minutes later to pick her up. We made quick, pleasant chit chat and I watched them drive away. The wind was brisk and cool, rustling through the trees, trying to whisper its message to me. But here in town it was too noisy to hear…

   I got into my car and drove to the lake, sat alone in our spot underneath the maples and the birches. It was almost sunset. The wind was rough, stronger here than it had been in town. It blew through the branches above me, behind me, in front of me; through the leaves that surrounded the entire lake. I closed my eyes, let the sound completely envelope me. Someone was burning leaves nearby and the scent drifted over to me on the wind. Lovely, smoldering heat. Finally, I opened my eyes.

   The whole world glowed, ablaze with vibrant red and vivid orange; the sky and the grass and the leaves. The hot colors of the sunset and the trees that reflected on the water were caught for a breathless moment of eternity in its ripples; the ripples from the wind. The leaves all around me crackled and sizzled and whispered its message to me…whispered…

   I closed my eyes, one more time, took it all in. Because whatever happened tonight I had to remember this scene. Had to remember the lake--just like this. With all six senses. So I waited, seared it all on my brain and heart and gut and soul. Images, flashes of image. Love. Heat. Connection. Fire. Waited until I had it all locked inside, to keep it part of me forever. Because soon, one way or the other, I would pull out my easel and pour it all out onto a fresh, white canvas. This lake. The lake that was really Brian and me.

   I ran to my car and hopped inside. I was facing Brian’s road. Brian’s home. I swallowed and took a deep breath, waited for my hands to stop shaking. Then I put the car into gear…

   And that’s when I saw them in my rearview mirror: a pair of headlights. My heart skipped a few beats, then started up again; because it couldn’t be him. I would have heard his truck at least half a mile away. But the lights slowed down as they came towards me, then pulled in behind me and came to a stop. I squinted my eyes, looked more closely at the reflection in the mirror…and it was him. I could see his silhouette, even with just the dark orangey light for illumination. Because I’d know it anywhere…

   I got out of the car and shielded my eyes against his headlights. It was a brand new truck, finally, another red one. He opened his door and I saw the big, bold beautiful letters:

   He banged his door shut, looked at me and nodded. I nodded right back, then walked towards him, slowly, and came to a stop directly in front of him. Close enough to smell sawdust and heat. His face shone oddly in the combination of colors that came from my taillights and his headlights. It was covered with dirt and end-of-the-day whiskers. And still he was beautiful.

   And if he’d been with someone new, or with lots of someones new, during the summer I didn’t care anymore. Because even though everything had changed, nothing really had. Not for me. And there was only one way…one way to find out…

   Yes it is. And so am I.

   “Hey Brian.”

   “Hey Tess.”

   I gave him a big smile. Because I loved the way my name sounded in his voice.

   “Your hair looks good like that.”

   I touched it, surprised, because I’d forgotten that it had been getting gradually darker over the summer. “Thanks.”

   I looked down at my shoes, not quite sure how to begin. Because we didn’t have to play the so what have you been up to game. We both knew the basics. We knew about parents who were trying to make amends and houses that had been torn down and exes who were remarried. So there was just one thing left to talk about. And it was my turn to go first.

   I cleared my throat and looked up at him. Looked right into his eyes.

   “You know,” I said, “I heard about these monkeys once. They live in the Congo. I wish I could remember what their real name is. They call ‘em hippie chimps, and I guess it’s a good nickname, because all they do--pretty much--is have sex all day long. But, it was kinda sad, too, because they’re almost extinct.”

   He smiled, and my heart started beating again. Then he said:

   “Damn poachers.”

   And there they were. Glowing eyes. I knew mine were, too. And I wanted to reach for his hand but I couldn’t. Because he was already holding mine.

   Back at my apartment. We sat on the couch, holding hands, saying nothing. It seemed a little strange that it was the same couch where we’d laughed and made love and watched television and fucked and snuggled and talked about The Future. But I’d been there with Jason before there was a Brian, done all those same things with him, too. On that very same couch. And it didn’t matter. It was only a couch after all.

   And finally he spoke:

   “Beige walls. You must hate that.”

   “Yep. They really do suck.”

   “Got that right.”

   There was silence again as he scanned the paintings on the walls. Most of them he’d seen, a hundred times at least, but two of them were new. Starry, delicate jasmine blossoms. And a beautiful blue swingset, gleaming in the golden summer sun. He smiled but didn’t ask about them; about what or who they were. Because, of course, there was no hurry. And then he noticed.

   “Where’s Kineo?”

   I cleared my throat. “It had to go away.”

   He nodded and looked at me, looked me right in the eyes, and I knew. This was the moment. This was It. But I didn’t even hesitate, didn’t take a deep breath or clench my toes inside my socks. I didn’t have to. Not anymore.

   “Can I tell you about Kineo? For real this time?”

   He smiled and reached for my hand again. “That would be great.”

   But the story started long before Kineo, long before rainbows and soil. So I told him everything. There were things I’d forgotten about, harsh words and sadness and feeling alone. There was longing and shame and other emotions I couldn’t even put names to. But I kept talking anyway. Then I told him about safety and home and love, so much love. But that underneath it all there was still fear. And then the fear took over because I didn’t fight it. I let it take over and threw away all those things. All the things that were delicate and precious and too rare to be discarded without any thought. And when I found all of it again, with him, I was still afraid, too afraid to believe in it. To know that it was real. And so I let it go. All over again.

   He listened and didn’t talk, not to ask me anything or to prod me when I fell silent. He just listened and held me and he cried when I did. And when I was done there was still love. And it was stronger than fear and harsh words and sadness. There were his arms and his shoulders and they still seemed so strong. And I found out just how strong they were, how strong they’d had to be.

   Because he talked, too, about sunshine and music and stars and love; of loss that was almost unbearable and burdens that were too heavy. Fear and exhaustion and frustration and abandonment. Then he talked about hope, about searching and finding. And losing again, losing it all, and the second time it really was unbearable. A black, cold abyss, with no sunshine and no music. And no stars.

   I listened and didn’t talk. And I held him. And I cried when he did. And when he was done there was still love, stronger than everything else. It was still there when we woke up the next morning, on my bed, in the clothes we’d slept in. I could feel his heart beating against my cheek, telling me I was safe and loved. When I looked up I could see it in his eyes, and I knew he could see it in mine. We didn’t have to say it but we did anyway. And this is how it sounded:

   “I want the rest of your life.”

   “Tess, it’s yours. It’s always been yours.”

   And we made love in our bed. Hot and slow and beautiful and wild; hearts bursting with fragile emotion. Two souls touching, closer than two bodies ever could...

   Outside it was October. A crisp, lovely chill had settled over our town. But inside my apartment, lying in each others’ arms, it felt just like Spring.

Chapter 41

Epilogue

Table of Contents

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