Now
It's the summer of the cicadas. They don't come out of their hibernation every year, only every seventeen years do they make the migration from below the surface of the earth to the world above. All night and day they sing and whine, their carcasses littering the front step to my house and drying out in the corners of the rooms. No matter how much I vacuum, I can't seem to get rid of them. I sweep them out of the house and into our yard everyday.
It's a sticky, humid summer, which is normal for Connecticut. We live on the side of the lake where the houses are more ramshackle, made of shuttered siding and thin walls that aren't meant to be lived in all year long. The houses on this side are small cottages; on the other side of the lake are where the wealthy New Yorkers have summer mansions. You would think that living on the lake would bring a breeze that gave a reprieve from the heat, but that's only been happening at night the past week.
My mother goes to work for a later shift at the hospital today. From my bedroom I can smell the breakfast she is making. Soon she will start knocking on my door to tell me I shouldn't sleep past ten, which I will object to by explaining I don't have a shift at the local hardware store today. I believe I deserve my sleep in the summer, since I work hard at school all year round.
My phone says it's nine-thirty when I hear a rapping on my window. My window is directly along my bed, so the sound is reverberating in my ear drums. I groan and pull up the shade, already knowing who is standing there.
I watch him grin, his teeth canine and slightly sharp. Whenever he bites me it hurts, though he never breaks my skin. I had a dream once that he opened his mouth for me to file his teeth down. I woke up feeling guilty, and the next time I saw him I kept looking to make sure his teeth were still the same whenever he smiled.
Bending down to speak through the crack in my window, his mouth is practically pressing against the screen. "Wakey wakey, bitch."
"Charlie, you can go through the front door," I mutter, dropping the shade. "I'm not taking my screen off so you can climb through my window."
"It's more fun this way," he says through the shades. I shut the window so I can't hear him anymore, his voice muffled. If he wants to see me, he'll have to go through the front door and ring the doorbell like a normal person.
It only takes five minutes for my mom to knock on my door and tell me what I already know. "Lucas, Charlie is here to see you. I made breakfast and invited him to stay."
I know what is happening on the other side of my door; my mother is standing there with her knuckles raised mid-air to knock again and Charlie is gloating behind her. He's probably standing there with his hands shoved deep in his front pockets, wearing one of those vintage crewnecks he likes to alter by ripping the neckline open with scissors to show more skin.
My mom loves Charlie because he is polite to her, and becomes enraptured whenever she starts gossiping about other nurses at work. He loves to gossip and he loves my mom. She thinks we're best friends since he's been coming over regularly the past nine months. Being friends with Charlie is like feeding a stray cat; you give him kindness on a predictable schedule and he keeps coming back.
When I open the door, I'm mostly right about what I will see; my mother is standing there in teal scrubs and Charlie is standing behind her. I was wrong in that he isn't wearing one of his destroyed sweatshirts, he's wearing a black turtleneck even though it's supposed to be in the high eighties temperature-wise today. He looks funny; his top is tucked into the waistband of athletic shorts that certainly aren't meant for men, considering how short they are. I can tell he is already overheated since there is a gleam of sweat on his upper lip where his perspiration gathers. He isn't gloating and he isn't smiling either.
My mother gave birth to me when she was twenty-one, and my older sister, Verónica, when she was sixteen. Two different guys knocked her up and disappeared, leaving her with two young children. My sister lives out of state in Maine, and now my mom takes care of people in the emergency room instead of chasing men. She's pretty, and my friends like to tell me she's a 'MILF'. Her skin is youthful with collagen and her black hair falls to her waist.
"Put some pants on mijo," my mom says in exasperation. "You have a guest."
When her back is turned I give Charlie a sly smile, hoping to cheer him up. I can tell he is sad, it emits off of him in a dark aura. I like when he is happy and boisterous, not when he's sullen and quiet. The times that he is cheerful, his joy is contagious, causing me to laugh and smile along with him.
I shut the door and find pants, he waits on the other side until I re-emerge from my bedroom fully clothed. We've seen one another naked, so it's not like he couldn't have come in while I changed, he didn't go in my room because we don't want my mom's suspicion to be aroused. As far as she knows, he hasn't seen me without a shirt on.
"It's going to be a scorcher today," I tell him, tugging on his shirt. It's form-fitting, so when I release the cotton it snaps back against his skin. "Do you want to borrow something?"
"No." He steps away.
I know we aren't going to have sex today. This thought drives me a little crazy because his shorts are short enough that I will probably be able to see the curve underneath each of his ass cheeks when he moves around. I'm going to be tempted to give him a squeeze if I see that.
"Suit yourself." I shrug. It wasn't worth asking, I already knew he would say no. "If you change your mind, let me know."
In the kitchen, there's a cast-iron skillet filled with fluffy eggs, as well as buttered toast. There are fresh croissants on a Saran wrapped plate, their warmth causing condensation to gather against the plastic layer. I go over to them immediately and start to peel back the plastic.
"Not so fast!" My mom bustles in, her Kate Spade purse tucked under her arm. "Those are for Daryl and Janet."
"Who?" I pause and share a glance with Charlie, who is all dull-eyed and doesn't seem to register my annoyance at being blocked from the pastries.
"The new neighbors." She walks over to the one air conditioning unit we have hanging out of the kitchen window, thankfully switching it on. "They moved into the cape right on the water."
"Oh, okay. Can I have one?"
"No," she says sternly. "I'm going to work. I want you to bring them down to the neighbors when you're done with breakfast." She turns to Charlie, who lights up under her attention like she's handing him a birthday present. "Make sure Lucas doesn't eat any of them, Charlie."
He nods, his dimple puckering with a smile. Leave it up to my mom to be able to coax a smile out of the kid; he might not be into women, but he's definitely in love with her. "I'll make sure," he says conspiringly.
They share a warm look.
"Perfect." She comes over to me and kisses me on the forehead. "I'll be home by eleven."
"Bye," me and Charlie say in unison, watching her leave.
I walk over to the air conditioner and stand in front of the vent where the cold air blasts out, breathing a sigh of relief. I lift my shirt up so that my naked torso cools down, then gesture for him to follow. "Stand here," I instruct him. "Or I'm going to start slipping ice cubes down the neck of that thing."
"It's a turtleneck."
"I know." I wait until he is standing a foot away from the air conditioner, then position him directly in front of it. I pat his shoulder reassuringly. "Nice, right?"
He nods. Sometimes me and him fight, he thinks I'm bossy and I think he's unreasonable. Today he isn't arguing, only following me around and doing whatever I say. It makes me uneasy when he's like this because I know I can tell him to do whatever I want or say anything to him and he'll take it like a beating. When this first happened I thought it was great, now I just want to stick an IV in his arm and pump him full of life again.
Who knows what tomorrow brings for Charlie, though. He might perk up by the end of the day after seeing my mom, especially if I watch a nature documentary on Netflix with him. He loves those boring BBC specials about birds and Antarctica, so occasionally I'll suffer through them to make him happy. It's cute how excited he gets about them; he likes to discuss them afterward with the fervency of a college student.
We eat together at the kitchen table, our feet bumping. I'm relieved to see him eating with gusto because he doesn't always eat. The eggs are room temperature and I wish I had a croissant instead. Over the food, we spoon salsa that my mother made yesterday using fresh tomatillos. The plates we are eating off of are chipped porcelain from Goodwill, part of a set I unearthed with my mom during one of her thrift store runs that she dragged me along for.
"I guess we should drop off those croissants now. Maybe they have a cute son," I say teasingly. "A boy next door."
"I wouldn't care if they did. I'm not interested in seeing anyone," he says, stacking his empty plate on mine.
"We're going to be seniors soon," I tell him, even though he knows this. "You've never had a boyfriend."
"Cool," he says, looking deflated. "The year before college is a great time to get in a relationship, knowing you're going to probably break up once you both realize you want to sleep with other people in the freshmen dorms."
"I'm a commitment guy. When I find the right girl, I'm going to marry her."
"Sure, Lucas." He shakes his head. "Invite me to the wedding."
I look at his slender fingers while he picks up the plates to place in the sink. Three days ago his fingernails were painted black, now they're bare and his cuticles are raw and scabbed. The only color that remains is tiny flakes of the polish still clinging to the tips of his short fingernails. I thought the color was cute. I was glad Charlie had them painted because it made him happy, and he didn't like the haircut his mom made him get, which made him sad.
I don't ask.
Outside it smells like pine. The plate of fresh croissants sweats in my hands. At the end of our road the lake shines, a distraction from the sun-bleached cement and the parched weeds growing up through the cracks in the sidewalk. Pine needles litter everyone's yards, fresh green needles overlaying the dried brown ones from last year.
Over the past few years, some of the houses had been remodeled, and people have been buying them up as summer homes ever since. It's not easy living on the lake during the New England winters, especially since the road ices over and the nearest big chain grocery store is fifty minutes away. If you get snowed in without food it's your own damn fault, and it doesn't help that sometimes the weight of snow causes trees to fall and take down power lines with them. I don't blame my neighbors for moving away and owning houses here only for the summer.
The new neighbors own a white cape on the water, it has a wrap-around porch despite its modest size. I knock on the front door and take a step back, standing beside Charlie while we wait. The porch looks like it would give you splinters if you walked across it barefoot. There are expensive-looking lawn chairs on the porch, a damp beach towel draping off the back of one of them. Someone must have gone swimming then laid out in the sun earlier today.
If no one answers, I'm going to take the pastries home and eat them, no matter how much Charlie objects.
"Hello?" The door opens wide and standing there is the most gorgeous girl I've seen in my life. The sound of her voice is a symphony of angels. I instantly want her to speak again.
"Uhh," I manage to say.
"Hi!" Charlie says brightly, the bastard. He extends a hand and gives her a winning smile. "I'm Charlie and this is Lucas."
"I'm Allison." She shakes his hand and then offers hers to me. "It's nice to meet you both."
This is what I want, I think. This is what a woman is. She's wearing bikini bottoms that are cut high on her hips, a matching triangle top that barely covers each globe on her chest, and a sheer coverup. I don't realize how much I've missed brunettes until I'm looking at her, getting lost in the lustrous locks of hair falling down her golden shoulders. Her eyebrows are dark and defined above two almond eyes, her thighs thick, and her lips plumper than Charlie's. This girl is magic. I want her to smother me with her curvy body. If she slapped me right now, I'd probably say thank you.
I find my voice. "Welcome to the neighborhood. My mom made these for you. We live in the ranch three houses down."
"Oh!" She says in recognition. "Your mom is Anna-Maria, right?"
"Yes!" I grin.
"Lucas," she says to herself. "Charlie." She looks at him with a smile. "I'll remember that. I'm guessing you aren't related?"
Charlie could say something and blow our cover, but he wouldn't do that. He likes spending time with me too much to say anything stupid that makes me sound gay. He is very, very quiet right now.
"Nope." I give her my best smile. I wish I wasn't wearing a band t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and flip-flops. "Do we look like brothers?" I jokingly sling my arm over Charlie's shoulders and pull him close.
"If I squint." She scrunches her eyes up and it's adorable. "The blonde hair and the black are basically the same."
"I like your swimsuit," Charlie says to Allison. "It's very pretty."
"Oh, thanks." Now she is smiling wider at him. "I swam for the first time this morning. The water is really warm."
Her toenails are painted eggshell blue. I'd shove her whole foot in my mouth if she asked.
"Are you here for the summer?" I ask, praying that she will be gracing this house all year round.
Her laugh sounds clear, like crystal glasses clinking together. "All year round, baby. My parents decided it was a great idea to retire in the country. They're from here originally, but I grew up in Manhattan. I'm going to Nonnewaug this fall, I'll be a senior."
"Us too." I can't believe my luck.
"Nice!" Her lips curl into a beautiful smile. "Well, I'm going to go eat one of these."
"Make sure you let me know how they are," I flirt. I used to be good at flirting but I've lost practice. It's not that I've lost interest in girls, far from it. I've been too focused on school and art to chase girls down. Now that it's summer, I think I'm ready to try and find a girlfriend again.
She likes my flirtation, she arches her back, causing her breasts to strain against the spandex triangles. "I will. Three houses down, the ranch."
"It was nice to meet you, Allison," Charlie says warmly.
After she shuts the door we turn to leave. He is quiet until we are walking up my driveway.
"She's a pretty girl, isn't she?" He looks at me, his mouth pursed into a thin line.
"Holy shit," I gush. "I think I'm in love. She's perfect. How do you not like that?"
He brushes his pale blonde hair off his forehead, where it's plastered with sweat. I like the way Charlie smells when he sweats, his natural scent cloyingly sweet. He told me he doesn't have a bad body odor because he doesn't eat meat, and that animal products make you stink.
"I just don't," he says sharply. "I don't know."
"Hey." I'm surprised by his cross tone of voice. "Don't be like that."
"Like what?" He asks testily.
"Like that." I throw up my hands in exasperation. "What do you want, Charlie?"
"You're such a bloodhound!" He stomps up my front steps. I can see the underside of his white ass, a bruise purpling it, which is probably from falling off of his skateboard. "You're just on the prowl for pussy."
I place my hands on my hips, the way my mom does when she's angry with me. From the front steps he meets my gaze defiantly, his arms crossed and his chin jutting out. A blessing of a breeze blows over us and tousles my hair. I hate that I think he is cute when he is mad. I hate that I've found my dream girl and he can't be happy for me.
"It's summer and a hot girl moved in a few houses down from me. I'm human, okay? I want a girlfriend, like every other guy except you."
"Not every guy." His voice comes out strained. "There are other boys like me."
"I didn't mean that," I say hastily, but the damage has been done. "Come on, Charlie. You've been in a bad mood since you came over."
He bites his lower lip so hard that the color drains from it. I'm Charlie's only friend. I didn't know that at the party in October. I don't know why he doesn't have friends, aside from that he doesn't want them. Maybe it's because he'll never take off his long sleeves and he's scared of people. His old friends abandoned him after he came home from that terrible religious school in Utah. Before I came into his life, he skateboarded alone, he walked to work alone, he left school alone. Now he does things with me and his dimple pops because he smiles when we're together.
"Listen." I try to rectify the situation. "It's hot out and it's making us pissy. Let's go into the AC and watch a movie. You can choose it."
"Okay." He drops his arms to his sides and the fight in him disappears.
"Good."
I don't know why he's not scared of me, I never asked.
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Author's note: if you enjoyed vote and comment! This chapter was a little long but my future chapters are action-packed and will be a bit shorter.
Why do you think Charlie is wearing long sleeves? What's going on between Lucas and Charlie?