The thing I would never get used to about Nova was that she was unpredictable.
Erratic.
Capricious.
"Puck, we're going to foster your creativity today."
"Um.... excuse me?" I was standing at my front door wearing only a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers—we had three days off school for "fall break" at the end of October.
Nova and Rick were bundled against the first snow of the season, which was coming down in huge, puffy white flakes almost lazily.
"Just let us inside, dumbass, it's freezing out here!" Rick growled, shuffling into me with his hands crammed deep in his pockets. I stepped aside to let them pass, still confused as to why they had woken me up at ten in the morning while on break. The two of them effectively tracked dirt and water pretty much everywhere as they set about making themselves comfortable. Nova put the shopping bag she was carrying down on the table and began unloading--surprise--several bottles of alcohol and various other drinks. Rick pulled an old CD player out of his backpack and plugged it in in the living room. I had no idea what they were planning, but I thanked my lucky stars my dad said he'd be working late that night.
"So... why are you here, exactly?" I said, grabbing a can of Code Red off the table. Nova slapped my hand and snatched it back, placing it exactly where it had come from. Rick shook his head, pointing at Nova, who shoved a handful of pens and a notebook into my hands.
"I was thinking about our talk the other day and realized that you weren't going to get back into the whole writing thing without a little encouragement." she said cheerfully. "That's what we're here for: encouragement."
"And what If I don't want encouragement?" I asked with a sigh, gazing down at the notebook she had given me. It had a picture of a smiling turtle on the front, and felt oddly heavy.
"Don't be stupid, of course you want encouragement," Nova put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at me, daring me to object. I gulped. Man, was she beautiful when she was stubborn.
"Can we move on to the liquid encouragement?" Rick asked. "I haven't had a drink since the corn maze, and that's wa-aaaay too long for me."
"Has anyone told you two you drink too much?" I asked, scratching my head. It was sort of becoming a legitimate concern for me.
"Nonsense, Puck! We all have more than enough reason to enjoy a little 'devil juice', I would say," Nova said, amused.
I shrugged; hell, I wasn't going to pass up a reasonably interesting way to pass the time. Nova got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with Code Red and a generous shot of vodka. She pushed it toward Rick, who just stared at her. "Here ya go, knock yourself out."
"I'm not drinking that," He said, aghast. Nova and I looked at each other, shocked. "Did you actually just defile the most sacred of soft drinks right in front of me?" he hissed.
"Are you really going to refuse my offering?" Nova put a hand on her hip and looked at him dangerously.
"Hey, that shit may work on Puck, but I'm putting my foot down here," Rick said stubbornly. "You leave that perfectly good Code Red alone, Missy."
"You're such a woman," Nova remarked, snatching up the glass and downing the whole thing in one. I blinked. Was it me, or did Rick actually turn a little pink? I chalked it up to his jock side and being unable to take an insult from a female.
He grabbed the bottle of vodka instead and took a large swill, barely even making a face as it went down. Nova poured me a shot of brandy, of all things, and made me knock it all back before letting me chase it with some apple juice (I decided Code Red would probably not pair too well). Nova cued Rick to hit the music, and we were soon drowning in The Weepies and Radical Face. I was never a huge fan of indie music, but I had to admit that Nova had put most of the best songs together in just the right order. We laughed and drank and lost ourselves in music until, finally, Nova forced me to open the notebook.
"DAMMIT NOVA!" I jumped up, letting the notebook and also a little Ziploc bag containing what was obviously marijuana flop to the ground. "Why the hell did you bring that into my house? My dad will kill me!"
"Relax Puck!" She said, snatching it up off the floor. Rick--who was about six drinks in--started laughing hysterically.
"You still have that?" he said in disbelief. "I swiped that off Mike at the beginning of the summer! I thought you had smoked it all!"
It was Nova's turn to laugh now. "I may have a death wish, Ricky, but I'm not stupid enough to smoke pot!" She pocketed it deftly and sighed. "You just never know when you're going to need some drugs handy, you know? I thought maybe it would help our friend here."
"Smoking pot doesn't make you stupid," Rick retorted. "Mike smoked a ton of pot, and he managed to get into college."
"You're using your brother as an example?" Nova scoffed. "Case and point. Sorry, Rick." Rick grinned and shrugged in agreement and started his next drink. That's what I loved about Rick: he could get really high-strung sometimes, but underneath, nothing ever really bothered him.
"Hell. No!" I said, throwing my hands out in front of me. Rick tossed me a wine cooler and told me to calm the hell down, which I did. Nova's impulsiveness could be a huge inconvenience sometimes; there was no doubt about it.
"What am I supposed to write about?" I asked after picking up the notebook and draining a third of the cooler.
"Write about the time you could make up your mind about something," Rick mused. "Oh, wait, we want a prompt that will last more than about one line, right?"
I threw a pen at him for being an ass.
"Write about the weather," Nova suggested. I had imbibed enough alcoholic beverages to actually give it a shot. I scribbled something down and handed it to Nova, who read it aloud:
"It's cold outside."
Rick snorted and Nova sighed, handing the notebook back to me. "You two acting like five year olds is doing nothing to help Puck's issue!"
"Puck has an issue?" Rick sipped on his honey-and-Jack Daniel's concoction, looking suddenly very interested. I looked over at Nova, pleading her with my eyes to not spill any secrets.
"No," she said, giving me her signature "killer smile" for the millionth time in my life. "But he will if he doesn't pump out some creative magic here in the next five minutes!"
I groaned and turned back to the notebook. I glanced out the window. Then back at the notebook. It had been so long since I had done something like this... wow, over five years. A half of a decade avoiding the one thing I actually felt I excelled at. I thought of the murder weapon I kept hidden in a box at the back of my closet, the old Smith-Corona.
No, I realized. I'm the murder weapon.
"You can do it, Puck," Nova said softly, as if she could read my thoughts. she smiled at me, the smile she saved only for me in our most private moments. I swallowed the lump in my throat, picked up my pen, and began pouring out ink onto the paper.
It was strange, at first, like swimming in Jell-O. My hand felt clumsy, and not just because of my questionable life choices. It was like I was learning to ride a bike again.
A bike that I had convinced myself was responsible for the death of my mother.
Not the bike. Not the Pen. Not the Smith-Corona. I reminded myself. Me. I put down my pen and pushed the notebook onto Nova's lap with a shaking hand. She patted my knee and began to read with that wonderful, honeysuckle voice:
"It's cold outside. The kind of cold that creeps into the fibers of your clothing and nests there patiently, waiting for you to move just the wrong way so it can seep in like frigid fog. This cold is a fine, invisible mist that chases away life and buries it as a dog does a bone, waiting for spring to come unearth what lies beneath.
Snowflakes begin to drift down from the sky, heralds of Jack Frost's realm, preparing an invasion of pristine crystals that will soon blanket the earth. When the white snow falls, no sin can be hidden: every footstep, every stain, and every mistake can be forever noted until the warmth comes again. That's why people love summertime: it hides us from our own sins."
The room lapsed into awkward silence for almost a minute. I sat there playing with the pen in my hands, wishing I were invisible. Surprisingly, it was Rick who spoke first:
"I've known you for... how long?" he asked, squinting at me. "How come I haven't known about this apparently well-developed skill of yours?" I shrugged, feeling my face grow a little warm.
"I knew you could do it," Nova mused. I watched her eyes travel back and forth across the page again and again. "Feel better?"
"I guess," I admitted, drowning myself in the rest of my wine cooler and laying back. "Can we do something else now?"
"Seriously, Puck, that was really good. I'm impressed," Rick said genuinely. "Hey, Nova, how about you take a shot at it?"
"Nah, I'm good," she said dismissively.
"What, you afraid Puck's a better writer than you?" He prodded, as always.
"Rick, shut up. Puck, hand me the notebook." Rick caught my eye and grinned as Nova began scribbling furiously. A minute later, she shoved it in my lap, prompting me to read it. I shifted to get more comfortable, cleared my throat, and began reading:
"Swirling. Spiraling. Spinning, each to their tomb as they fall ceaselessly from the heavens. The snowflakes know no enemy, and yet they march on, an unstoppable wave of silent, white soldiers. The wind lends its aid, and the cold air presses on the attack. As mighty as they fall now, winter's minions are helpless against spring's eternal warmth."
More silence. I looked out the window, and I saw it. I saw each soldier floating down from above, determined to carry out a useless battle. For someone who had felt so much pain, Nova certainly found no end to the magic in the world around her. I began then to realize why she was pushing me back to the work of ink and paper. She was lonely, I supposed, watching a world full of possibility with a friend who wanted none of it.
Suddenly, I felt like a giant asshole, sort of. I looked apologetically at her, and knew at once that she understood my glance. She smiled a tiny smile and nodded once, as if to acknowledge all of my mistakes and dismiss them at once.
We sat around quietly until Nova decided she was bored and wanted to watch a movie. She found an old DVD holder flipped through it until she found an ancient copy of Franco Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet. She popped it in the DVD player, grabbed some blankets and a bottle of crème de menthe (ugh!) and we began taking shots whenever a character made a sex joke.
"I'm glad you wrote that for me."
We were two-thirds of the way through the movie when Nova slipped her hand into mine and leaned up against me with a sigh. I tensed immediately, thankful for the blanket covering us at once. Rick seemed about ready to pass out, as usual. His last three shots had been doubles, even though he complained louder than anyone else about the menthe.
"Who said I wrote it for you?" I said,
"Oh, come on, Puck. We both know you."
"Whatever," I said, but I couldn't hide my smile. "I really enjoyed yours too. How come I've never read anything... creative of yours before?"
"You've never asked," she said plainly, glancing at me sideways.
"I kinda figured it was an invasion of privacy," I said. It was nice, I decided, talking to Nova while curled up on the couch on a cold day. I could get used to it, to be sure.
"We're not all like you, Puck," she said with a grin. "Some of us can afford to be open."
"Oh yeah?"
"Try me."
"Okay," I said, feeling brave. "How come you haven't had a boyfriend since Chris?"
Nova stiffened, I could feel it instantly. "Really? Of all things, you had to ask that?"
"Hey, you said you could be open," I countered defensively.
"Fine, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of menthe. "Maybe I'm just not looking for that kind of trouble."
I frowned, thinking back to the incident in Rick's truck.
"Life's too short to tie yourself down, my friend." she finished with a sigh. "I've got a question for you, now, Puck."
"Hmm?"
"How come you've never had a girlfriend?"
I actually laughed out loud. "Who, me? Ruler of awkward silences and bishop of uncomfortable situations? Yeah right!" I scoffed, looking at her. "Besides, life is too short to tie myself down, you know?"
"You're an ass, you know that?" Nova smirked. "C'mon. Be honest."
I tried not to lead on too much I really did. "I guess I'm just holding out for the perfect person." I offered lamely.
She didn't respond to me. Her eyes were glued to the screen and we watched as Olivia Hussey showed some major boob after the wedding night scene. Nova laughed, commenting on proportions and whatnot. My heart was pounding; Nova was curled up against me, talking casually about her own breasts, and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. My palm started sweating furiously, but Nova didn't seem to notice.
"--Isn't that right, Puck?"
"Huh?" She was looking up at me with those bottomless, seductive aqua eyes again. "Um, yeah. I guess."
"You didn't even hear what I said, did you?" She pulled away, turning onto her knees and facing me. She had that look in her eye, the one that meant trouble, and my heart skipped a beat.
"No, not really," I admitted, unable to take my eyes off her. She leaned forward and I could see, well, just about everything down the front of her black tank top. With some friendly encouragement of my friend, intoxication, I made no attempt to really look away.
"I was just saying that all the best writers truly know how to appreciate a woman's body," she said with a wink. "Hell, even Truman Capote knew his way around the anatomy and, well, you know... he was gay."
"Uh huh."
Nova smiled, lips an inch from mine. "Dammit Puck, who the hell made you so damn adorable?" The menthe on her breath washed over me and we began to close the distance...
"Hey! Get a room, you sickos!" Rick was watching us out of one eye.
Nova sat back, sticking her tongue out at him, and flipped him the bird. She settled back onto the couch with her head resting in my lap (a very uncomfortable position, at this point) and recovered us with the blanket. As soon as Rick's eyes closed again, she took my hand in hers and pulled it to her stomach, where she let it rest. I held my breath, unsure of what I should do. I began tracing little circles on her skin where her shirt had ridden up just an inch. As the tips of my fingers grazed her silky flesh, she let out the tiniest of moans.
"I don't have anything to write about," I admitted, pulling away slightly.
"Hmm?"
"You said all the greats could write about..." I licked my lips nervously, "uh, appreciation, or whatever. I... I don't really have anything to write about."
"Puck," she said simply, guiding my hand back downward.
She paused for just a moment and I got lost in the depth of her eyes, the absolute infinity of blues woven together in a complexity that fit Nova perfectly. I would never get used to this, I realized. The spur of the moment, seat of your pants, random acts of adventure that made Nova who she was.
"Nobody's perfect Puck, and you know that. So just shut up and kiss me, you moron, and I'll give you something to write about."