(song: "PCH" - Jaden & Willow Smith )
We sat together on the floor in Marcel's bedroom.
His room was upstairs in the furthest part of the house from the master bedroom downstairs where his grandmother slept. We didn't want to risk waking her by watching movies in the living room.
Between us we had a large bowl of popcorn and several unhealthy snacks. The screen in front of us glowed with images of science-fiction horror. Even though most of the movies we watched were old, I still found myself wanting to look away from certain scenes. The cheesier scenes were great, the both of us would laugh at them until we had to laid on our sides to stop.
At one point we paused the movie all-together and found ourselves gazing up at his bedroom ceiling. It was painted out like the night sky. Most of the things that decorated Marcel's room were either related to space or video-games about space.
"You're amazing, Lily," Marcel breathed the words out while he laid on his back.
I didn't expect him to say something like that at all.
"I know," I joked with him.
In all seriousness though I had felt bad about not remembering him. "Marcel? Did you remember everything from when we were kids?"
He nodded. "Yes, everything."
I rolled from my back onto my side and studied his profile. "How come I couldn't remember a single thing about you, but the more I'm around you the more memories I unlock?"
He tilted up his chin and his features looked so soft when he spoke. "The mind is a complicated thing. Humans might understand how the brain works physically, but mentally is another story."
I nudged the popcorn bowl back towards his bed so I could see him better. His eyes were so very dark. There was no hint of light in them at all. I'd never seen someone with black eyes before, dark brown sure, but not as dark as his. It looked so strange with his pale complexion and messy blonde hair.
"You talk like you aren't human," I mumbled.
Marcel twisted his lips with distaste. "The more I learn about people and how they feel or behave, the more different I feel from them. Sensing what people feel or knowing what they are thinking isn't normal. Avoiding physical contact with people because I'm scared of the images it puts in my head isn't normal. The way animals or certain objects respond to me, isn't normal. Some people in town are scared of me, and others beg me to heal their kids or communicate with their dead loved ones."
I reached across the space between us and placed my hand against his arm. It felt like touching a humming power adapter. I don't know how it was possible for him to generate so much energy, but maybe it was the static from the rug. I squeezed his forearm gently.
"I'm not scared of you, and you don't avoid physical contact with me. . ."
He closed his eyes. "You're the only person that I don't have to avoid it from."
I smiled at that remark. If it was supposed to feel strange or uncomfortable, it didn't. I felt at total ease around Marcel.
"Do you want to know something? I applied to a school in Seattle so I'd be able to stay here on the weekends and be with Nana. I had the option to apply to the same school as my ex-boyfriend, but I didn't. I thought at first I did it because I wanted to be here for Nana, but honestly? I worked hard to be popular at my high-school and it took so much effort. I think I wanted to go somewhere I could start fresh and be unique instead of trying so hard to fit in. So, I guess 'normal' is overrated."
I retracted my hand from him and his reflexes snapped with lightening speed to hold my wrist. His fingers slid down from my along the top of my hand and down my fingers. Each seconds our skin connected sent surprising shivers up my arms and throughout my spine.
His eyes reopened and he gazed at me in a way I'd only seen one other place. I had seen that look in the picture of my Nana and Pop-pop. He was staring at me the way that my grandfather had looked at my grandmother. Those same heavily focused eyes that seemed to say so much without a single word being vocalized. That combined with his magnetic touch gave me sensory overload.
Something had to be wrong with me. I'd just broken up with Alex, and I definitely didn't want to be involved with anyone else at all, but there was one thing I couldn't deny. I was attracted to Marcel.
It wasn't that he was the type of guy I'd usually date. Alex was tall, muscular, gorgeous and charismatic. He was physically the perfect model of what most girls want.
Marcel wasn't like that.
Each day I saw Marcel, he somehow looked a little bit cuter to me and in that moment I found myself actually attracted to him.
I rose to my feet. "I should go, it's getting late."
He stood swiftly. Sometimes he'd move slow and patiently and other times he moved so fast and fluidly that I could barely process it.
"Lily?"
"Yeah?" I felt nervous around him out of no where.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and tossed a captivating smile. "I had a good time tonight."
"Me too," I admitted without wavering. "We will send the sample of the rock to the doctor tomorrow, do you want to go to the post office with me to send it?"
"Yes, I'll go with you," Marcel answered, but it sounded like there was a lot more meaning behind it.
It felt like he was implying he'd go with me no matter where I asked him to go.
I returned back to Nana's house and found my mother fast asleep on the floral couch. In her arms she hugged an embroidered pillow Nana had once sewn for her. I knew I was hurting, but I couldn't even imagine what my mother was going through.
I snuggled up on the couch with her and immediately she surrounded me with the small knit blanket she kept over her.
"Did you have a good time with Marcel?" My mother asked sleepily.
"Yeah, it was fun. We watched movies," I said with a quiet voice to keep from waking up my father.
"I never liked Alex," she confessed. I felt her fingers fuss with smoothing down my hair. "I couldn't say that when you were with him, but I can say it now. He liked you for a status symbol more than for who you are. I am glad you are spending time with other boys, but right after a break-up you are going to feel vulnerable. Those feelings might lead you to getting involved with guys on the rebound."
My mother was trying to give me dating advice. I really didn't want to be having this conversation.
"Mom! Okay, I get it, can you stop? Marcel and I are just friends. Nothing else, okay?"
"Okay, sweetie. Marcel is a nice boy, he was always good to your Nana, and he's a hard-worker who's taken care of his grandmother. I'm sure he hasn't had much time or opportunities for dating and you're going off to college soon. So keep all those things in mind while you have a friendship with him." My mother had a sort of method to always say everything that she wanted to and disguising it to sounds like something else.
"Mom. . .I love you, but he's not even my type."
Hearing the words said out loud I was more sure of them than ever. My role in this summer mystery was to find clues to unravel the truth for both my Nana and Marcel.
Nothing would happen between Marcel and I. Absolutely and positively nothing. . .