Head Above Water

22. A History Lesson

“Like this?” I asked Jeremy.

“Yep. Perfect,” he confirmed encouragingly.

I was perched at the very top of a 16-foot ladder looming over the theater auditorium like some divine, omniscient being, as Jeremy taught me how to work on the lighting rig. Except, with sweat running down my face and dust clinging to my skin like a second layer of clothing, I didn’t feel very divine.

Jeremy was balanced on the opposite side of the ladder guiding me through the tools and steps required to focus, angle and change out the stage lights.  I’d learned all sorts of new things about gobos, gels, lenses, clamps and circuits. For all his awkwardness elsewhere, he was completely in his element here. He was actually a fantastic teacher—encouraging, concise in his explanations and patient almost to a fault.

“Have you considered teaching as a career Jeremy?” I asked him with an unladylike grunt. One of the bolts I was trying to loosen was stuck like a barnacle to a rock.

I didn’t look at him to see his expression, but his voice sounded mildly surprised when he spoke. “No I haven’t. Why?”

“I just think you’d be really good at it,” I explained. I gave a final hard yank and the bolt finally loosened. “Success!” I chirped, flashing him a triumphant smile.

Just then a booming voice demanded our attention. “Jeremy! What the hell are you doing taking her up there?” I recognized Mal’s angry voice, but was surprised when I looked down to see that his expression was terrified. He castigated Jeremy again, but his fearful eyes never left me. “Beginners are never allowed to work on the rig. You know that.”

“I needed a hand and she was curious to learn,” Jeremy explained, sounding like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Gemma, could you come down please?” Mal asked stiffly.

By this point several other classmates had become witness to the argument and were watching with open interest. I was both embarrassed and angry that he was treating me like a child, but I conceded to his request because of the fear I could still clearly see in his eyes. I’d seen him concerned before, back when he cured my migraine and when he saved me from the vampire at the race, but not afraid. Malcolm had not once shown even a hint of fear—ever.

I flashed Jeremy an apologetic smile then made my way down the ladder carefully. I could feel Mal’s anxious gaze following me all the way down. When my feet touched the linoleum of the auditorium floor he visibly relaxed. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been holding his breath until that moment. For someone who was normally so reserved, the blatant emotion he’d been showing came as a bit of a shock.

Feeling the eyes of our classmates on us, I grasped his wrist and pulled him after me. “Come on, we need to talk,” I said firmly, dragging him through the door. My anger still wasn’t gone, though his expressiveness had tempered it some.

“What the heck was that?” I had planned to ask him, but the minute we were outside, he tugged me into his chest and wrapped me in an airtight embrace. I returned his embrace, somehow understanding he just needed to hold me for a while. By the time he loosened his hold on me, my anger had finally died out.

I leaned back so I could see his face, but didn’t pull out of his arms. We gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment, unspeaking. It actually scared me a little that I was content just looking at him and doing nothing else.

I raised my hands to cup his face and brushed my thumbs across his sculpted cheekbones. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying my touch. “You want to tell me what that was about?” I asked softly.