The wake was held back at Stacy's house, which had just enough room inside and out to accommodate the hundred and fifty or so people who decided to attend.
Buck's prodigious photograph was set up in the front room with several pictures of him, a multitude of bouquets, and yet another several dozen sympathy cards. Nova seemed to be hoarded by friends of his, past and present, dying to meet the daughter he had spoken so brightly of. Rick and I hung out on the fringes with Mudder and a few cousins, making sure pitchers were full and directing people out to the garden when the house seemed like it was getting just a bit overstuffed.
Finally, about an hour after darkness fell, Nova made her way back to us looking more than a little overwhelmed. Rick chose that moment to get wrapped up in an argument with several of Nova's family members regarding baseball and I knew he would be a lost cause for the rest of the evening. Nova tapped me on the shoulder and nodded her head out toward the back door. I shrugged, and she opened the hooded sweatshirt she had put on over her dress to reveal a small golden bottle of tequila tucked away in her pocket, shooting me a sly grin. I sighed and shook my head, though I couldn't help inwardly chuckling, and followed her out past the garden and down a long flight of flagstone steps that led to a little old wooden dock of sorts that reached out into the still waters of the sound like a silent hand. The boards creaked and sighed as Nova led me out to the very end and plopped down, kicking off her shoes and carefully pulling her dress up over her knees so she could slip her bare feet into the almost-glasslike water. She slipped several little metal pins out of her bun and let it all cascade down over her shoulders as usual. The inlet behind the house was well protected by a long sandbar that jutted out from the left a couple hundred feet away, giving the salty water the appearance of an untouched lake rather than an untamable ocean.
I pulled off my own shoes and socks and rolled my dress pants up a couple times, yelping out loud as my feet broke the freezing surface of the water. Nova laughed and reached over and loosened my tie with one hand, fishing the bottle out of her pocket with the other. She took a slow, savoring swig. I watched her face closely as she swallowed, marveling at how her features could be so beautiful and so strong at the same time. Her mussed auburn waves were haloed around her head in a way that made her look like some sort of Greek goddess. She passed me the bottle and I took a swig as well, letting the fire slide down my throat and warm my very core. I set the bottle back down between us and we lay back on the salty old wood, my arms propped behind my head and hers spread out like wings, and took in the pungent air, the endless stars, and the soothing sound of the water gently lapping against the shore.
That moment, like many moments spent with Nova, was a moment where I lost myself in time and space, floating between the folds of feeling and perception.
"Hey Puck?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks."
Nova broke the silence with the soft tones of her voice, which too perfectly blended with the surreal sense of peace and safety that had washed over me. Here on this dock, looking out over an endless expanse of nothingness, we were untouchable. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted down from the house up on the hill, but it all seemed so far away. Nova was here, Nova was close. I turned my head to look at her and found her melting, swirling diamonds already locked on my face.
"Thanks for what?" I asked.
"This. That," she gestured up to the house and then all around us. "A little bit of everything, I guess. It seemed like you didn't want me to come here at first."
"I never said that."
"Please, Puck. I can take bullshit from everyone else, but not from you."
I gulped and turned my head back up, unable to look at her. "Well, yeah, maybe I had some reservations. I'm glad we came now, though."
"Why?"
"Why am I glad we came?"
"No. Why didn't you want me to come?" Nova's gaze felt like lasers on my cheek. I opened my mouth but struggled to come up with an answer.
Please, Puck. I can take bullshit from everyone else, but not from you.
"I was afraid it would change everything," I said finally, resigning myself to complete honesty. "I mean, really, I feel like I don't know you at all sometimes. I never know how you're going to react to stuff like this... I mean, for all I knew, you were going to up and decide you wanted to get out like Rick and you'd move in with your stepmom. I... I didn't want anything to change. I still don't. I can't even get over the fact that Rick is leaving as soon as we get back, for crying out loud." I snatched the bottle up off the ancient wood and threw back a way bigger mouthful than I could handle, coughing myself into embarrassment while Nova just looked at me sadly.
"I'm not going to do something stupid like that," she said finally, taking the bottle from me and gently setting it on the other side of her. "Is that really what you think of me?"
"I'm not sure what I think of you sometimes," I admitted darkly, shaking my head.
"Do you feel... used, sometimes?" She asked after a pause. I frowned, unsure of what to say. "Don't hold back."
"I may have, at some point or another," I said quietly.
"I know." She said. "I've pretty much taken you for granted, haven't I?"
"Maybe once or twice." It was sort of liberating, admitting these things out loud.
"I used to do it on purpose, you know." Nova sat up and took up the bottle in her left hand, staring out over the inlet, off into nothingness.
"What? Why?" I felt my heart skip a beat, and not in a good way.
"Even since we were kids, I was afraid you were finally going to realize what I was. I tried to keep you reeled in, I guess. Interested. I even started dating that asshole Chris our freshman year to make you jealous. It's fucked up, I know."
I squinted at her trying to make sense of the words that were coming out of her mouth. "You're not serious, are you? I mean, I spent years pining for you when we were kids. You've been this... this thing that I haven't been able to have. Not now, not ever."
"I know. I made you feel like that, didn't I? I didn't want you to wake up some day and realize that there were other girls out there, ones with way less problems than I have."
"Why are you telling me this?" The question was simple, but weighed in the air like a dense fog. Nova downed another gulp and passed me the bottle. It was my turn to set it down now, without drinking any. My head was already spinning, and it definitely wasn't the alcohol.
"So you can let go."
"Of what?"
"Me."
I sat up too, not taking my eyes off her. She rested her weight on the heels of her hands and swirled her feet around under water in big, listless circles. "I'm damaged goods, Puck. Broken, I guess. Always have been, always will be."
"So am I." The words popped out of my mouth before I had a chance to swallow them. Nova gave me a half-hearted shrug and I sighed.
"Look, I've been a mess since even before my mom died, and only much more so since then. We drink, we smoke, we get in trouble and we drive halfway across the country in a beat up old truck to patch up stuff between you and your dad. Look, I don't care what you think you did to manipulate me, but I would have stuck around regardless. We get each other. We've got each other's backs." I gulped, trying to find the appropriate words. "I mean, I love you. You know that. Damaged or not. Whatever."
Nova didn't say anything for a long time. A tear rolled off her cheek and plopped down into the water, making a forlorn ripple spread out over the smooth surface. Finally, she turned to me and choked out a laugh. "You know; I should have realized you'd just try to make me feel better."
"Of course I will. And that's my choice, not you manipulating me."
"I know, I know. I've always known that."
"You were singing a different tune two seconds ago," I pointed out. I watched as Nova brushed the wet trail from her cheek and attempted to smile. I passed her the bottle and she shook her head, so I put it down between us again. "Why do girls have to be so complicated?" I wondered aloud.
"We're not all that complicated, Puck." Nova said with a sniff and a laugh. "Life events make people in general complicated, I think. The good ones, at least."
"I wonder if I'll ever be complicated enough for you," I mused, kicking my feet around in the water.
"You don't need to be," Nova said, squeezing my hand and then sinking down onto my shoulder, as she usually did in these kinds of situations.
"Oh yeah?" I turned my head slightly and rested my cheek on the crown of her head. The cherries wafted over me, as well as all the bittersweet memories they carried with them. "Why's that?"
"You know the photo that's upstairs in the living room?" She said suddenly.
"How could I forget?" I replied, wondering where this was going.
"When my dad first brought it home he told me it was a picture of me."
"How does that work?" I rubbed my head, wondering if enigmatic statements were genetic.
"It's not that complicated, if you think about it."
"Just tell me."
"No."
We laid back again as a breeze began blowing in from the west, carrying with it the scents of salt and freedom. Nova and I both took a few more drinks in silence. I stared up at the stars, trying to figure out what she meant. He told me it was a picture of me. I remembered the first time Nova had mentioned the color of darkness to me, when we were doing this exact same thing, but on the roof of Rick's house. I thought about the things she had said at the funeral, and of the way her dad had tried his best to do right by her, despite his burial in his own perceived shortcomings. It hit me like a wet newspaper to the face.
"I get it!" I said finally, shooting up off the wooden deck triumphantly. My head and my stomach lurched in opposite directions and I laid back down with a groan.
"Took you long enough." Nova said with a little smirk.
"The color of darkness... it's not a thing, really, is it?"
"No, I don't think so."
"It's a person. It's a place. It's a smell. It's a sound. The color of darkness is exactly what you want it to be, isn't it?"
"Whatever you need it to be, more like." Nova smiled at me, eyes crinkling at the corners like they did when she was really, truly happy. "Whatever helps you peel away the black and see the true colors underneath."
"So, then, if darkness isn't really darkness at all, what's the purpose of light?" I asked, suddenly feeling awfully philosophical. Nova bit her lower lip and peered up at the stars pensively.
"Light, I think, is what gets us from day to day, I suppose," she said finally, glancing back at me with a frown. "You know, the little things that help you get along when life just kinds sucks, as it seems to do a lot."
"What is your light?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at her.
"The small things?" She laced her fingers over her chest and stared up for a bit, thinking. "Clear nights, like this. Sitting with my feet in the water, like this. A little bottle of tequila, like this one. And a gentle breeze, like this one."
"It's kind of a perfect night, isn't it?"
"Except for burying my dad, yeah."
I couldn't help myself; I let out a laugh, shaking my head at the sheer... absurdity of our situation. Nova laughed too, thank goodness, or I would have looked like a total ass.
"It's so... absurd." Nova said after a little while.
"What is?" I asked, dragging my foot through the water and enjoying the numb feeling.
"Death. How final it is. One second you're here, one second you're not. It's weird."
"I know," I said swallowing "You never quite get over it."
"I just... can't believe he's gone." Nova shook her head in disbelief. I half-expected tears, but none came. "She looked up at me, eyes shining dully. "You know, I feel kind of free, now."
"How so?" I cocked my head at her.
"I spent so much time waiting for him to show up, and he never did, I know he had his reasons, and I'm dealing with that. But now? He won't make those stupid, empty promises anymore. I won't be waiting on the porch alone, knowing he wouldn't show up, but staying out in the cold anyway."
"Hey. I'd wait out there with you." I said, picking a tiny leaf off the shoulder of her jacket. Nova caught my hand in hers and pressed it against her cheek, smiling into my palm.
"You see? This is why I can't let you go, Puck."
"My pathetic sense of loyalty?" I grinned over at her and she smacked me softly in the elbow. with a smile.
"No! Because you get me. I've been so afraid to lose you, that I'd keep hurting you." Her smile turned slightly at the corners and I reached over to brush a strand of hair out of her face.
"Why... why are you so afraid of that?" I asked, trying to puzzle over how someone so complex, so beautiful, so indescribably unique could find me even remotely interesting, let alone depend on me for some sort of happiness.
"Because, Puck... you're it for me. You're the thing I see when I look at my dad's picture.
"You mean--"
"Yes, Puck."
Responding to a statement like that was impossible. Instead, I simply reached over and slid my hand into hers. She squeezed it, and we lay like that for what seemed like an eon, wrapped in the warm, timeless cloak of the night, surrounded above and below by a thousand winking eyes of the cosmos. Nova's hand was warm in mine, and burned with a kind of fire I knew I'd never feel in another palm. I sighed contentedly. For the first time since my mom had passed away, I felt complete. I felt at peace.
Words.
Words are...
Important.
Vital.
Essential.
We'd exchanged a lot of words over the years, her and I. Happy ones, sad ones, good ones and bad ones. Her words had helped me through my darkest time, and now, hopefully, mine were helping her through this. You never know how the words you say, or the words you write, are going to affect someone.
And maybe that was the most critical thing about them
Her name was Nova, like a supernova, or the muscle car. She smelled like cherries, and her kisses were wildfires. Her legs were long and her temper could be short, but I couldn't get enough of her. If she taught me anything about words, it's that you don't always have to choose the right ones. There is no such thing as the perfect word for any given feeling.
Laying on that dock, sandwiched somewhere between the words "lost" and "love," I had finally found the best description of that blue-eyed, untamable entity sprawled out next to me.
She was the color of my darkness.