I lay in bed most mornings then, thinking of Mio. Or leaning out of my window in the early hours, doing the same. Mostly I was thinking of ways to fix what I'd undone. I kept cursing and cringing at the idea that I had made her feel uncomfortable with my words - I ended up wishing that I'd never said anything at all. In fact, I felt so embarrassed about the days following that Jackie came to my house instead. Which even my father was surprised about, it being the first time he met the elusive Jackie Reed that I'd mentioned almost daily over the span of a nearing year.
I realised while she was standing in my hallway, slipping off her shoes and shrugging out of her coat, that she looked royally out of place in our thin, rented country house. And I looked scruff standing beside her. I'd only rushed downstairs to answer the door to her in sweat pants and a stretched white top, my hair unbrushed and appearing like I'd been dragged through brambles. She, on the other hand, had her hair straightened to silky perfection and was draped in a dark, fitting coat with a fur collar. Our difference had never been more obvious.
Like her house, mine also had photographs and framed pictures scattered along the walls and on table sides. Except a lot of the pictures hung up were old pictures my mother had painted when I was much younger, and my dad was much happier. I hated them. They weren't really any good - thin strokes of brown for treescapes and green stubble for rockpool and grass. They were of Twin, our town, but I'd never hated looking at the town more, than when I was looking at those paintings. I couldn't wait for the divorce to be finalised. They always reminded me of a certain memory that I'd always hated thinking of.
One where I'm in early middle school. My hair is long, it touches my lower back, and I tell everyone that. The crown of my head is slightly tinged blonde with the summer sun and one of my front teeth is missing from where I went head-first over my handlebars on a Sunday morning. I come through the front door. Someone is crying. It's my mom. She's curled on the kitchen floor, covered in mixtures of paint, hands stained. My dad is crying too. He's kneeling by her, eyes red. He tells me to go to my room. After that, she left home for four months before coming back. They never told me exactly what happened but I could put two and two together, one being her addiction and the other being the state of her mental health.
Later that evening, Jackie and I were sat out on the porch, drinking hot chocolate under the eaves. I'd been thinking about Mio all evening. I think it had made me seem absent. I was staring off down the dirt path out onto the road, where a single streetlamp glowed. It was cold, nearing freezing temperatures, but we were wrapped up in parkas and woollen blankets over our knees. A shaft of moonlight through the wood panelled cover lit out faces in the night; our breath came from our lips in white puffs of cloud.
"What's up with you?" Jackie asked.
"I think I might be evil."
She said nothing.
"Kidding. Of course." I said. "There's nothing up with me."
"You sure? I'm sure I can give you some expert advice." She pressed, sipping from her 'I ❤ Canada!' mug that I'd purchased two years prior in Toronto. That trip was an 'I'm-sorry' from my dad after blowing my savings on my mother after I'd told him not to. It was a lousy trip that didn't half make up for what he'd done - but I pretended it had made it all better.
Maybe Jackie could give me some sound advice. Of course, not in the explicit way I'd wanted, but I could twist my words to make them sound as close as possible to my situation. I opened my mouth, closed it to reconsider and then spoke.
"I think I made a mistake when talking to someone and made them feel uncomfortable." I said. "Now, I'm not sure how to make it better."
"Who?" Jackie asked, and I could see out the corner of my eye how interested she suddenly was. We didn't always talk about feelings with one another, not because there was a lack of trust - more because I was stubborn with how I felt and she was a happy person.
"Precious, in my English." I lied, rubbing the side of my leg (a habit when lying).
"Well, depends what you said to her." Jackie said, setting her mug down on the porch between us.
I thought in a rush of something inappropriate to say to my English partner, that would somehow match the severity of what I'd said to Mio.
"I told her I wanted to lose my virginity." I blurted.
There was a heavy pause before Jackie burst into a fit of laughter, falling back against the wooden deck, flailing her legs. I didn't find it that funny, but Jacks obviously did and I could see it as shocking to her - I mean I hadn't really mentioned anything of the sort. It must have surprised her like a bucket of ice over her head, but I'm glad she was distractedly entertained by my fake story.
"Norah! First of all, I can't believe you didn't tell me this - well, I guess I had an inkling. I mean it's not unusual in the slightest, but... to tell her and not me!" Jackie spoke, struggling through laughter still.
"It was a heat of the moment kind of thing." I said.
"What kind of moment were you having during English?" She burst into laughter all over again. I smiled a little bit.
"None! None like that." I shook my head. "I just felt like it was the right thing to say and I said it. Now I feel like an idiot for it."
"It does sound a bit suggestive. She probably thought you were hinting at your first time being with her!"
"Oh, God. Right."
Sorry, Precious, I thought to myself. Roping such a nice girl in with my ridiculous attempt to subtly seek out advice felt wrong in the moment.
"Anyway, help me, Jacks. Tell me what to do to fix this." I waved my hand to move the conversation onwards.
She sipped from her cup again and sucked her lips into her mouth as she thought. "I think... if she was uncomfortable then the best thing to do would be just move on from it. Like, don't dwell on it or you might just make it worse."
"So, just pretend it never happened?" I wrinkled my brow.
"Yeah, that's what I'd do. If you bring it up, she might feel funny about it again, so I'd just act buddy-buddy and let it blow over naturally." Jackie advised, looking over to catch my reaction on her response.
I nodded slowly, pulling my knees up to my chest, letting the blanket over my legs slip. The situations were similar enough. I wondered whether it would work though - just being friendly and letting it basically mend itself. I thought it could. By Jackie's reasoning, it would work and bringing it up would only make it seem more awkward.
Two days later, it was the first of December and with the new month, I decided to give up on feeling sorry for myself. Baby steps, I thought, and I went for dinner at Jackie's after school. The weather quickly became hat-coat-and-scarf type weather, and I was lugging around the huge weight of my dad's old coat on my slight body. But, the day I finally went to Jackie's house for the evening, I decided on wearing my thin autumn coat, despite it making my teeth chatter. My appearance had seemed more important than my immune system.
As Jackie and I walked, me wheeling my bike alongside, I glanced into car windows, trying to check my reflection. My hair had been neatly combed away from my face, both sides parted and pulled back into a low ponytail, and my nose was tinged pink in the cold. My usually socked legs were clad with a pair of thick black tights. I felt neat.
At the door, my anxiety felt suddenly more like excitement. I wanted Mio to come to me, to swallow what I'd said and hold me and kiss me. But in the hallway, while we both slipped off our shoes, I couldn't see her.
"I'm in, mom, with Norah too." Jackie called as she shuffled towards the staircase.
I followed behind her, looking into the living room, and feeling my chest relax when I spied the back of Mio's head. She was watching television on the couch, back facing me. I wanted to see her face. Turn around, look at me, see me, I begged.
I swallowed then spoke, casting words harshly from my dry throat. "Hello, Mrs. Reed."
How awkward! I hadn't meant to sound that way, but I wanted her to notice me. To my disappointment, she didn't turn around. Her body got very rigid, spine straightened, but she didn't turn around.
"Hello." She said. Pathetically, hearing her voice made my head swim, but her tone made me frown. I could tell she was making some kind of effort to not interact with me. Or perhaps she was just engrossed in television and was absently greeting me? I was following Jackie's advice anyhow, and just talking to her as I would, hoping what I'd blurted in the night would blow over casually.
But further through the house, I caught a glimpse of a masculine spine, the broad and heavy shoulders of a grown man. Jackie was already jogging upstairs, but I was lingering at the base, watching the tall, greying man pace about in the kitchen with pans and saucers and hairy knuckles. His hair was loosely slicked back away from his strong face, seemingly by the brush of a large hand and so effortlessly too. He was in from work early, dressed in a crisp white shirt that he'd rolled up around his elbows and loosened his tie about the neck. His handsomeness made me feel minuscule.
I hadn't realised I'd really been staring until he spoke in my direction, "I'm making the dinner tonight, I hope that suits you, Norah."
In the corner of his thin mouth, I saw the shine of a gold tooth.
I nodded. "Yes, sir." Then I disappeared upstairs behind Jackie.
I hadn't eaten dinner at Jackie's while her dad was in the house. I didn't know how to feel, apart from being honestly disappointed. How I'd get a chance to talk to Mio then I hadn't a clue, but it continued to bother me. It only got stranger though. We all ended up sitting at the dining table instead of the breakfast bar; Jackie and I sitting opposite Mio and her husband. I moved in a discreet hurry to sit across from Mio before Jackie could take the seat. She still barely looked up at me though. Only once did I catch her eyes straying from her plate and over to me, but once I caught her, she didn't look again.
I was almost annoyed that I couldn't badmouth Mr. Reed, so after eating, I was thrilled. Eddie Reed was an awful cook.
He'd tried a poor twist on classic Mac'n'Cheese by adding an array of mismatched ingredients. Jackie wolfed it down, making her bottom lip shine with grease. Poor girl was probably used to it, but my stomach wasn't, and it gurgled loudly at the attack. Politely, I ate what I could then pushed the food around the plate until it looked like I'd gone at it in a hungry frenzy. "What a dish!" He exclaimed after eating. Indeed, I responded internally.
"Putting me to sleep." He added, standing and rubbing the manly curve of his stomach. His hands were so thick and large, especially in contrast to Mio's thin wrists and slender fingers. I saw something on those hands then that made me look again; he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. There was a strip of pale skin that was faintly visible at the base of his ring finger, but no ring. "I'm going to lie down."
I watched that hand until it was out of sight. But, why? They seemed happy, he seemed happy. Perhaps in marriage you take breaks from wearing what bounds you for life. Putting it that way sounded horrifying, but I suppose it seems that way when you slip it on your finger at the end of the aisle. Did Mio realise that when she did? What'd changed?
Jackie tugged on my sleeve as she started to walk back towards the staircase. But I didn't budge.
"C'mon." She said, staring down at her phone screen as she pressed at the keypad with her thumb. She wasn't looking at me as I looked at Mio.
"Go ahead. I'll help wash up." I mumbled, feeling her hand slip from my sleeve.
"Such a brown-nose, Norah Cook." Jackie said in a sing-song voice and left the room, trailing right back up the stairs.
Mio was looking at me then, her stare caught me by surprise and I felt my pulse swell up into my throat. She was stopped by the sink, plates in hand. Was it so surprising for me to want to help?
"Let me give you a hand." I smiled, feeling my determination to retrieve normality fire up in me again. I was sure it would work, and honestly, I had nothing to be embarrassed about if she forgot.
She placed the plates into the bowl of soapy water, letting them sink into the suds, and didn't meet my eyes. "Okay."
"I'll dry again." I said. "If that's okay."
Mio said nothing, just slid the cloth towards me and began washing plates. Being closer to her, I could see how tensed her body was. Her neck was bent down towards the sink and her shoulders were slightly raised. I couldn't say exactly why. I wanted her to talk to me, I wanted to tell what she was thinking about because I knew she was thinking.
She was washing the plates in a bit of a hurry, and after I couldn't quite keep up with the drying, she started stacking them up on her side on the counter. Tell me what you're thinking, Mio, I implored silently. Perhaps I was staring too intensely, or being far too silent. I tried to stare anywhere but her hands and her body, and I started studying the sink and the marble countertops. The silver of the basin was chipped up the sides, growing greyer and further from the reflective silver it once would've been. On the edge of that shiny grey, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Mio's wedding ring. It came up out of the water with her gentle hands as she hurriedly washed over another piece of crockery. That was dull too, I thought. That ring. Of course, it was as old as Jackie and I were, but it was supposed to be something that was forever. My dad still wore his wedding ring, but swore he didn't want to be with my mother like he used to. It was unimportant.
I wasn't keeping up with her quick washing, so I leaned around her body to pick up the sudsy plates on her side of the counter. My arm came around her back to reach, and my torso almost brushed her back, but I wasn't quite close enough for our bodies to touch. What I thought was a subtle movement caused Mio to suddenly turn to face me. My eyes widened.
Her cheeks were pink. Her full lips were parted. In the span of what I thought had been a few seconds, she'd grown pink, like a rose in the face. A grown woman blushing, Mio blushing. What for? The closeness of our breasts, or our knees, or our tummies? Or the embarrassment of being caught so close to my lips? Again. Which was it?
I didn't say anything, nor did I move for a moment.
She turned back to the sink and softly mumbled, "sorry."
Sorry! Sorry for blushing? For being so close? Sorry for what? My head was swimming again. I moved back to the drying rack again with what she'd washed up and began drying in silence. What could I say? "It's okay." I couldn't.
There was nearly nothing left in the washing up bowl. A few forks maybe, but that was all. I'd have to go away soon, and a chance to smooth things over would have been completely wasted. It was tense. Tense.
"You look tense." I said, letting words just spill out of my mouth.
Her shoulders came up again faintly. I saw them. She just hummed in reply.
"You want a massage?" I offered, leaning my hip against the counter-side.
Her head whipped towards me then and I was almost surprised by the reaction. Her eyes were widened in disbelief. "No. Most definitely not."
Being responded to made my heart race again. I was smiling, I couldn't help it. My determination was back again. "Why not? You look stressed and my dad says I'm pretty good."
"I don't need one, thank you." Mio muttered, drying her hands off with the towel beside me.
"Just for a minute, you'll see. I'm good." I grinned, holding my hands out in front of me.
She stared at me for a moment like she was telling me off and it made my heart race. She was contemplating, debating, inside that pretty head.
She sighed and placed the hand towel down. "Alright. Hold on."
She turned around reluctantly and smoothed her hands through her hair, tugging it away from her neck in a ponytail. I watched her fingers twist the hair-tie around and into her dark hair. Her nape was revealed.
Slowly, I moved my hands towards her shoulders. I decided then, I would give that woman the best massage I'd ever given. I first pressed the pads of my thumbs into her shoulders, just below the slope, and began to rotate them into her skin. I felt her breath enter and leave her body. I closed my eyes as I rubbed her shoulders and imagined a reality where I could lean forward and kiss her nape, and then below her ear and then her mouth. What life would that be?
I ground my fingers down into her shoulders blades, and then pressed my wrist into the lower part of them. I felt her breath hitch in her throat. My pulse skyrocketed. Maybe I'd pressed too hard. Anxious about my massaging skills all of a sudden, I loosened my grip on her and started to rub much slower and gentler, just with the right amount of pressure. And with that change in pressure, a sound came from Mio's throat.
A sighing sort of moan. We both stiffened. My hands stopped rubbing. She seemed to stop breathing. My heart was all I could hear, and not quite in my ears, but somewhere much lower in my body.