I'll Be Here

feet come to a halt like they’ve taken root and even across the distance and the shadows cast by the licking flames I can see the corners of his eyes turn down in disapproval.  I glance away quickly hoping that he didn’t see me notice him.
    There are fifty witnesses to the moment when Taylor realizes what has caused her boyfriend’s abrupt change in posture.  She stares me down with a look that I swear could cause a puppy to have an aneurism. 
    Alex is looking at me also.  I can feel his pupils zeroing in on the pores on the side of my face.  My nose probably looks huge from that angle and I want to pull my hair forward and hide behind it like a curtain.  Or maybe I could evaporate like water and become part of the atmosphere.  I’m staring down at my shoes trying to force back the tears that are burning the backs of my eyes.  Crying, I tell myself firmly, would only make a bad situation worse.
    Blink.
    Swallow.
    Count slowly.
    Swallow once more.
    Repeat.
    This is the rhythm that I’ve developed.  
    Blink.
    I am about to swallow when I feel something solid at my waist.  Alex has scooted in and his chest is tilted toward me.  He brings his strong arm up and around my body.  The gesture is not friendly.  His hand settles on my hip below the waist of my jeans an inch or so away from my bare skin. 
    I don’t know what my face looks like but his whisper is gentle in my ear, “This is what you wanted, right?”
    And when I sit up straighter, our irises lock and I see that his eyes are as bright and shiny as mine.

 
    And this is the room
    One afternoon I knew that I could love you
    And from above you I sank into your soul
    Into that secret place where no one dares to go.
    ~Neutral Milk Hotel
    “King of Carrot Flowers, Pt. 1”

 
    CHAPTER FOURTEEN
     
    Later, as he drives to my house I am trying to think of what to say but I’ve got nothing.  I’m like a hard drive that’s been wiped.  Must. Reboot.
    Alex talks for me. 
    He says, “This is a great song,” and adjusts the volume on the car stereo. 
    It’s an old song that’s been remade.  I can’t place the original but I know the lyrics and in my head I sing along for a bit.  Not out loud.  I don’t want Alex to suffer any more than he already has.
    The song ends as we turn onto my street.  Time is almost up and I’ve said nothing about what happened at the beach.  But Alex doesn’t turn into my driveway.  He takes us down the street and makes a right on Windsong Terrace. 
    Now I know what he is thinking and I can’t help but smile.  He parks on the shoulder and I step out of the car onto ground that is part grass and part knee-high sticky weeds.  I grunt as I brush the nettles away from the legs of my jeans. 
    “Hey, remember when we accidentally let the Finkin’s Persian cat out and she came back covered in these things?”
    Pushing through a particular tall patch of the offending weeds, he stops and looks over his shoulder.  Behind him the silver moon looks like an enormous winking eye. 
    “Of course I remember Willow.  She screamed at me like it was my fault her cat couldn’t compete in that cat show and she claimed to my dad that I’d cost her thousands of dollars in breeding money.” 
    He bends a slender branch away from our path with an outstretched hand.  “Who has ever heard of cats competing in a pageant anyway?”
    “It’s ludicrous,” I agree with a grin.  We’re almost there.
    “That cat should have thanked me when it wasn’t whored away to some shaggy male tomcat for the purpose of making expensive kittens”
    “It was an ungrateful thing.”
    “It was.”
    Alex finds the spot with his shoe and we both bend to the dirt in a practiced way to clear off the edges of the board.  When the perimeter is free, we each take a side and lift.  As the quarter-inch plywood board comes up sandy dirt spills over our feet.  A rush of cool air hits my face.  It smells a tad musty.  Our eyes meet and I can’t help but feel a little giddy. 
    “Have you been back here much?”  He asks.
    I shake my head.  “The cave didn’t feel right without you.”  That’s the truth and I can’t help but feel glad when he looks happy about my answer. 
    We sit on the edge of the gaping hole for a moment.  Alex slides in first and then in a practiced way, reaches up to help me down.  Over the layers of shirt and jacket his fingers dig into the soft skin beneath my rib cage. 
    My feet greet the ground and