January 8th, 2006
Being in love feels like drowning and being born all at once.
Being in love with Cassie Yang feels like fire and ice coursing through my veins at the same time. Her eyes are pure midnight and innocence, and her very smile like the golden sun. She is a devastating, falling star, and I am caught in the trail of her silver stardust spell.
I grin stupidly and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist before walking quietly back to my room. Pat brought a random new girl back to the house last night, but I'll be gone before they wake. I shut the door behind me and reach for my phone, dialing Cassie's number even though I know it will go to voicemail.
"Good morning, beautiful," I smile into the receiver after hearing the inevitable beep. "You're probably still sleeping, but I dreamt of you last night. And it made me miss you when I woke up. Can't wait to see you later."
I shrug on a long sleeved Henley and toss the phone onto the bed. I pause when I glance at my reflection in the mirror. The comfortable fabric of the shirt pulls tightly across my shoulders, showing off the recent gains I've earned in the gym. Though Cassie and I have yet to do more than just hold hands, I've lately wondered what it would be like her fingers to wander over my chest, or for her hands to wrap around my shoulders...
Frowning, I wonder for a second what she sees when she looks at me. Does she like what she sees? Does her breath catch the same way mine does when I look at her? What about my height? I'm not as tall as most guys my age. Does it bother her like it bothers me?
You're deluding yourself again, the chorus sneers inside my mind. Of course she thinks you're short--
The voices abruptly stop as Cassie's bright smile flashes through my mind. It's like she mutes the bad thoughts, I think with unexpected triumph.
Being in love with Cassie Yang is even an antidote to my darkest ruminations.
My eyes snap back up to the mirror. Mother wouldn't want me to show up to church wearing an old Henley -- especially since this will be the first time in months I'm attending service with my family. I strip off the shirt and opt for a navy blue button-down hanging in my closet.
I throw the Henley onto my bed. I'll save it for another day.
---
Campus is sleepy and frozen this early Sunday morning. I let my thoughts tumble as I sit in my car and wait for the old engine to warm up.
I think of the fearful way my heart pounded as I raced to meet Cassie on Christmas Eve when she got into that car accident. She had ran into my arms with a kind of desperation... no one has ever needed me like that before, and in that moment I felt an urgent, intense need to protect and shield her from harm. It was like my body and brain reacted on sheer instinct, and I knew then I would never want to let her go.
I wanted to see her the very next day, but Cassie said she had yet to tell her parents about me, that it would be disastrous to explain she'd gotten into a car crash because she was trying to meet up with her new boyfriend. I was understanding, of course. But a part of me had been disappointed, since I had told my family the very night she agreed to go out with me. I can't complain though, because the accident truly brought us closer together, and not a night has passed where she and I didn't spend hours on the phone talking about what we did that day.
When the car is adequately warmed, I pull away from the curb and drive down the silent street towards Swan Hall. A slight ache forms in my chest as I remember that I am going there to pick up my sister and not to go see Cassie.
You'll see her later today, I reassure myself. You can wait.
I ignore the longing I feel and park alongside the curb closest to Sparrow Hall. Shutting my eyes, I lean against the headrest and allow visions of long, onyx waves and soft pink lips flood my mind. What would it feel like to taste those angel lips and run my hands over the slight curve of her waist? What would it feel like to get lost in her embrace? There is so much of her that I want to see, touch and feel... what would it be like to fall asleep next to her, and wake up beside her?
I don't know the first thing about being a good lover. Hell -- I barely know how to be good enough, especially good enough for Cassie. And this terrifies me more than I'd ever dare to admit. But Cassie Yang is a black hole of desire, and I am quickly burning up in her gravitational pull.
My eyes snap open at the sound of a slamming door, my heartbeat unnervingly fast.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!"
Arielle chirps happily as she flounces into the passenger seat. I clear my throat and will the impure thoughts of Cassie to vanish.
"Hey," I greet my sister, who watches me with a funny smile.
"I wish you'd let me meet her," she pouts. "When are you going to bring her back for dinner?"
"Soon," I smile, shifting the car into drive. "I hope."
"How long has it been?" Arielle asks as we drive away from campus. Her eyes dance with sparkling curiosity.
"One month tomorrow," I reply without hesitation.
"What are you doing to celebrate?" my sister squeals. "You should take her out for dinner! Or better yet, what are her favorite flowers? Girls love flowers--"
"Cassie is not that kind of girl," I snort. "She's not materialistic or high maintenance. In fact, she's not like most girls. She's simple, classic, and intelligent... and besides, I've already prepared something for her."
"O-kay then, what exactly have you planned?"
"If you must know, I've written her a love letter."
Arielle gapes at me. "Since when you the romantic type? And Isn't that a bit intense for the first month?"
"I don't see how," I shrug. "I wrote from the heart, how I feel. And no offense, but you wouldn't understand. But when I'm with her, I feel like a completely new person. From the moment she's stepped into my life, nothing has felt the same. I'd write her hundreds of letters if it would capture the way she makes me feel. But even then, I don't think I'd be able to fully express it all..."
I let the words trail off, and Arielle sits back into her seat and shakes her head.
"Unbelievable. Who are you right now? Where is the grumpy old man that I used to call my brother?"
"Like I said," I chuckle, "nothing feels the same anymore."
"You really like her, huh?" Arielle studies me.
"Yeah," I nod. "I really, really like her."
The sun begins to peek out from behind glacial gray clouds as we near the church. After a minute or two of silence, Arielle speaks up again.
"It's... nice to be going to church together," she says. "I've missed this side of you. You know, going to church as a family means a lot to Mom and Dad. Especially Mom."
"I know," I mumble after a beat.
"What made you change your mind all the sudden?" Arielle chuckles. "Just a few months ago you were so unsure... did you figure it out?"
"Figure what out?"
"Whatever it was that you said you were working on with God."
My jaw tightens out of habit like it does any time God is mentioned, but deep down I know something is different because now, Cassie Yang is a reverent prayer on my lips. She is proof that good things can still happen in my life, proof that God has not forgotten about me. And maybe, just maybe, it's enough proof for me to get my life back on track and give God another chance.
"Yeah," I reply with a smile. "Yeah, I think I've figured it out."
---
I sit quietly with my family in the cushioned, rosewood stained pews while Pastor Merrick delivers a sermon. I'm acutely aware of Mother's beaming face and the pride in Father's shoulders, evidence they are pleased with my decision to return to church. To my left, Arielle sits besides Grandfather, and to Grandfather's left is Mal, who watches Pastor Merrick with rapt attention. I glance around and notice the way things have generally not changed within the walls of Faith Presbyterian Church, from the selected hymnals to the immaculate wainscoting and the familiar faces of old families and friends. If I had visited a month ago, I would have simply walked out of the service -- but I am not the same person as I was one month ago.
Well, I'm here, God, I pray in my head as Pastor Merrick continues to drone on. Because you put Cassie in my life, this is what I'm giving to you in return. Tell me what you want.
Pastor Merrick's bald head shines with sweat beneath the lights. Heavy-set and dressed in a three-piece black suit, the man takes his job rather seriously.
"What can you give a God who sacrificed everything, everything -- just so that you could have life?" Pastor Merrick addresses the congregation. "Some of us are blessed with financial resources, and so we tithe," he smiles. "Others make use of their talents and skills, creating and crafting the world into a more beautiful place. But what about the rest of us?"
I crane my head forward, eager to hear what he has to say.
"Time," Pastor Merrick enunciates. "We can always give God our time. Our present time, our future time. Ask yourself, how can you be of service? What of your future can you offer to God? What of your time and energy can you dedicate to doing his work? A life of service is a noble one, but a life of service to God reaps eternal rewards."
Pastor Merrick moves onto his next preaching point, but his words stick with me and echo in my head. A life of service to God... what would that even look like? I instantly think of Mal and glimpse him from the corner of my eye.
I chuff. A life of service and holy work is not for me.
When the service ends, all six of us return to my parents' home in Steel Heights for lunch. The mood is cheerful as we share a a meal of chicken pot pie (Gran's recipe), tossed salad greens, and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies together. Perhaps it's the fact I feel utterly stuffed, or the fact I feel happier than I have in months, but I decide to ask my family for some advice.
"So," I address my parents first, "how do I know if I'm being a good boyfriend and doing this whole dating thing right?"
Mother looks at Father with amusement and the two of them start laughing at the same time. I feel my face turn red but wait for their giggles to dissipate.
"You're already doing better than your father ever did," Mother assures me kindly. "We didn't date for very long."
"Wasn't it like three months or something crazy like that?" Arielle chimes in, reaching for a third cookie.
"Yes," Mother nods. "From the day we went on our first date to the day we got married, it was three months."
"--Three months, two weeks, and four days," Father amends.
I stare at him. "So, how did you know you were ready to get married? Had you already dated other girls?"
"Didn't need to," Father shakes his head. "Your mother was always the only one for me."
"We were fortunate to hit it off so quickly," Mother smiles. "Our families were supportive, and back then it was less of a thing to get married young."
"Huh," I grunt, feeling slightly discouraged. "How am I supposed to know if I'm doing this right? Why don't relationships come with some kind of manual or set of instructions? I feel like I'm going to mess it up..."
"Here's how I see it," Mal speaks up, leaning backwards in his chair. "You've got a Bible, right?"
"What's the Bible got to do with all of this?" I mutter.
"If I were you," Mal grins, "I'd use the Bible. It's a beautiful book, full of poetry and wisdom and stories. If I had a girlfriend, I'd woo her with it."
I snort at the same time that Arielle sighs dramatically.
"That is just so, incredibly sweet!" she gushes.
"The Bible is like poetry. My Jennie used to love it when I sent her poetry," Grandfather rasps wistfully. "Sometimes, you just need to woo a pretty girl with pretty things. Women are delicate, fragile things. They're drawn to the softer things in life."
"As long as you are protecting her, you're doing a good job," Mal adds. "God put us men in charge, and it's our responsibility to make sure our women can flourish and bloom in safety. We need to be strong because women are naturally weaker, no offense," he winks at Arielle.
"That is purely your opinion," she simpers through pursed lips.
"Here's a man who knows what he's talking about!" Grandfather booms, smacking the table with his hand.
There's already nothing I wouldn't do to keep her safe. And thought it's just a hunch, I'm beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe -- Cassie and I can be as lucky in love as my parents.
Indulgence is not usually something I let myself afford, but tonight I feel positively hopeful. I lean across the table for another cookie and bite into it with a grin.
---
It's nearly eight o'clock by the time I take Arielle back to her dorm. I park the Neon in the Swan Hall lot and wait for my sister to leave so that I can visit my girlfriend.
"Please? Can't you just introduce her to me already?" she whines.
"Not yet," I say, nudging her towards her building in the opposite direction. "Now go away."
She huffs her disappointment but begins to walk towards Sparrow Hall. When she finally disappears from view, I speed walk towards Swan Hall's east entrance and manage to catch a student on their way out of the dorm -- he holds the door open for me and I enter the building without needing to call Cassie downstairs to let me inside.
My heart beats wildly as I sprint up the two flights of stairs, emerging on the second-floor landing right outside of her room.
I'm heady and high with anticipation as I lift a hand to knock on her door.
The moment she opens the door, I rush inside and pull her close to me in a tight embrace.
"Aram! You're early--" she laughs.
She's small and warm and she radiates golden honey and white jasmine. I close my eyes and breathe in her raven hair, feeling the familiar ice and fire surge through my veins intoxicating me with her very being.
"I want to kiss you, so, so very badly," I whisper.
It's a confession, a promise, a warning and a secret. My breaths are unsteady as she looks at me through midnight lashes, shy and stuttered and flushed. As much as I want it to be, this isn't the moment -- the conditions aren't perfect, and I need for our first kiss to be perfect. I force my desires to simmer low in my thighs and give her some space.
"How are you?" I ask, taking a step back.
I listen as she tells me the mundane things of her day, capturing little details like the way her freckles dot her cheekbones like constellations for me to map, and how that tiny dimple near the corner of her mouth only appears when she smiles a certain way. I could listen to her forever, mesmerized by the melody of her voice and enthralled by the range of her expressions.
"--even though it's only two classes, I'm worried I won't be able to manage all of the work. But I think if I set aside some time every day to just prep for my classes, maybe a few hours, I can finish my calculus homework and log some studio time for my composition class... What are you looking at?" she pauses her train of thought to glance at me.
"You," I grin. "You're beautiful."
She giggles and ducks her head to the side. But I don't want her to hide, so I reach my hand out and tilt her chin towards me. I swipe the smooth underside of her jaw with my thumb and feel her pulse point quicken.
"I don't know why you keep saying that," she says softly.
"Because it's true," I reply confidently.
"I don't think it is." Her voice is quiet and she averts her eyes.
It's our responsibility to make sure our women can flourish and bloom in safety, Mal had said. Women are weaker, so men need to be strong.
I lower my hand and slide it into hers.
"Then I will tell you every day," I say, bringing the back of her hand to my lips. I brush my mouth over her knuckles and gaze at her with as much sincerity as I can muster. "Every moment we are together, you will know your own beauty and worth."
Her eyes brim with unspilled tears and tiny cracks begin to form through my heart. I recognize in her the same brokenness I see in myself, in girls like Laurel, and anyone who has ever felt like a zero in life. In that moment, my desire to protect her ignites with explosive ferocity.
I wait patiently for her to talk. When she does, she tells me about her dad and how his high expectations shaped her own sense of worth. She tells me how she has never felt good enough for him. And when she shows me the faded scars on her forearm from years of self-harm, violet anger blooms in the corner of my vision. But I keep quiet, letting her say what she needs to say until her tears stop falling.
I am her prince and her father is the damned dragon, I think violently.
When she runs out of words, I wipe the wetness from her cheeks and cup her face tenderly.
"Your father may have hurt you, but I never will," I soothe. "You are safe with me."
"Please don't get me wrong, I love my dad," she stammers. "It's... it's complicated."
"You don't need to defend him. Your father is a man who has made mistakes," I say, struggling to keep anger out of my voice. "He failed you. He didn't protect you. But I will. That's a promise."
I bring her hand to my mouth and pepper it with kisses. When I press a kiss to the inside of her wrist, she makes a small sound and goosebumps flash down my spine.
"I will kiss you eventually," I whisper, fighting the swell of desire in my chest. "But not tonight. I want to kiss you when it's right."
It's late by the time I return to my house on Bradshaw Street. And although our touches tonight were chaste, I can't ignore the fact that I desperately, desperately want -- and need -- more of Cassie.
"No wonder Mom and Dad didn't want to wait that long to get married," I snort to myself as I tiredly roll into bed.
Blurry visions of a dreamy future with Cassie flit through my mind as I start to drift off to sleep. Her in a white dress, and me in a tux...
But you can't save her, a cold and distant voice sneers as I lose consciousness. You can't even save yourself.
Author Notes:
- Any and all spiritual views depicted in this chapter belong to the characters alone, and are not meant as a reflection of me as an author.
- "Faith Presbyterian Church" is a generic church name I've chosen for this story; it is not my intent to depict any congregation named "Faith Presbyterian Church" in a negative light