Five days until Christmas and I found being away from Mio was far more painful than being with her. Her and her mouth followed me into my dreams. I'd wake in the night and glance over at the gift I'd gotten for her, sitting innocently on the dresser and glittering in the moonlight spilling into the room. What would I do with that gift? What if I went to see Mio and she rejected me much worse than before? What then would I do with the gift sitting on the dresser side? What would I do with the rest of my life?
In the dark, my black jacket hanging off the back of my bedroom door looked a lot like Mio's robe. I imagined her in it a few times. I'd blush and reach out for her, and only feel nothing under my hand. Of course, I was in a half-asleep state at those times, and despite that, it would still take me an hour to fall back asleep. But in that hour, my lips would tingle and my chest would warm. The same time each night. I felt as if a curse had been placed on me.
School had ended for the Christmas break. It was still persistently snowing and every minute I spent alone in my house, I worried about gifts or Mio or the amount of time I was putting off seeing her. So, I planned with Jackie to stay over four days before Christmas. I packed a stay bag of nice bedwear and underwear (not that it really mattered under the circumstances) and went to stare at myself in the mirror for half an hour or so.
Seeing that the tiny sideburn curls by my ears had grown out and my ends were split, I took the scissors out of the cabinet and went DIY. I doubted completely that Mio paid that much attention to my hair, but I wanted to feel a little newer after our few days apart. I tried not to take too much off, just slightly bring it above my shoulders. Then, I plucked at my slightly thick brows and sat with the eyelash curler on for a few minutes. Feeling even slightly prettier had wondrous effects on my confidence and I could feel the invisible courage meter above my head ticking upwards.
Dressed up for the weather, I started my walk up for Jackie's house. The sky seemed to be a constant slate of grey. The gutters at the sides of the roads were darkened with the pile of up slush; the residue after hours of snowfall. A sudden surge of excitement and energy in the core of me urged me to start running. I took a deep breath in and started to clumsily sprint up through the snowy streets. My hair was glittering with the tiny specks of snow that had fallen and gotten stuck, crowning my head like a tiara. The grip on my boots was tough enough to keep me from slipping, but didn't allow me to run any faster. My feet were heavy, my chest was heavy too.
His car was in the driveway. He was home, of course - it was too close to Christmas for him to be at work. Though my dad was still away in the daytime. That car. Sometimes when I looked at it, I wanted to smash it to pieces with a bat or a rod or jump on it and scream. Really, I had no reason to hate him other than I wanted to be in his place. He was living my fantasy, being beside her.
It was him too, who opened the door when I knocked. My meter of courage dropped to zero though when I spied his lip. His cupid's bow had a pink stain that ran up the outline of his top lip. Lipstick.
"Norah, hello." He smiled, and I watched that pink stretch. I couldn't stop looking at it.
"Hello."
"Jackie did say you were coming, staying the night?" He asked.
Wipe your lip, I wanted to scream, wipe your lip, don't make me look at that stain any longer!
I nodded.
Mio wasn't the type to wear a lot of make-up, I had only seen lipstick on her a couple of times. Perhaps he was cheating on her then, and he'd clumsily not made the effort to check his reflection before facing her or me. I would comfort her if he had, I would cuss at him I thought. As I walked past him into the house, I told myself and I would quietly mention it to Mio. Our first words since the rejection would be about the possibility of her husband cheating on her. Then I would have a true reason to despise him.
But I felt my colour drain at the sight of Mio in the living room. She was wearing pinkish lipstick. I stared at her. She stared back. She was wearing a beige dress that hugged her figure neatly. But I wasn't so bothered with the dress, it was her lips; that lipstick.
She whispered a small, 'hi'. Was it sheepish? Or shocked? Was she waiting?
Mr. Reed wasn't listening, he was just coming back into the living room. I was barely listening.
Her eyes tore from me to him as he walked around the back of me. I couldn't even think about the fact I was standing like a statue in the centre of their house. She wasn't looking at me anymore, just him. I was reminded in that moment that he was her husband, and I was reminded of what being a husband meant.
"Jackie's upstairs right now, I think, or in the pool house." Said Mr. Reed, standing beside Mio.
She was still looking at him. Then her eyes widened a bit. "Eddie, you've got lipstick on your lip."
My heart sunk into the depths of me.
He laughed heartily, and swiped at the wrong corner, missing the stain completely. I couldn't look anymore. I slipped away from the couple. Perhaps they'd slept together before I came, or had shared an affectionate kiss in the kitchen where I'd first wanted to do the same. Perhaps she was just showing who her heart was for, she was showing the only one who could fit. That was Eddie Reed; not me, not Norah Cook.
I pushed through into Jackie's room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, tan legs extended out under a pair of blue shorts, feet bare in the shag carpeting. I sunk to my knees in front of her and laid my head against her lap, feeling her warm skin against my cheek.
"Norah... what's wrong?" She asked gently, twirling my hair around her forefinger.
"I still feel a little rough." I said. It wasn't all a lie, I was feeling almost worse than before. And worst of all, seeing that stupid pink lip didn't dimish any feelings for Mio inside me. Part of me thought they'd gotten stronger.
Lying against Jackie's thin legs, I imagined they were Mio's. I gingerly pressed my palm against the side of her thigh and sighed. I could've cried, but I didn't.
"You sure you still wanna stay the night?" Jackie asked, still twirling my hair.
"I'm sure." I mumbled.
"Don't worry, I'll look after you, Fish."
An hour or so later, we were all sitting around the table. I wondered how many more times I'd sit with Eddie Reed until I went insane. I didn't even try to sit opposite Mio that time, but Jackie went to the seat opposite her dad, leaving me the default choice to sit across from Mio. Like she would, she avoided eye contact. She messed with her knife and fork, and straightened her plate. I couldn't help but glance up at her; I felt if I didn't, I'd miss a moment where she was looking back.
Jackie ate as usual, blind as always to my yearning, and occasionally her pinky finger would brush the side of my hand. That was her looking after me, assuming I was still feeling 'unwell'. But I pushed around my plate, ate small mouthfuls and looked subtly at Mio. Eddie had wiped his mouth clean. He was talking to Jackie about presents.
Under the table, something touched my foot. I stopped mid-chew and looked over at Mio. I caught her eye, but she looked straight back down at her plate. It was her foot. She'd kicked off her slipper under the table and her stocking-covered foot was touching mine. My heart started beating hard. I pushed my foot back against hers, it was a silent 'I know'. Her sole slid up over the bridge of my foot and kind of just rested there. My palms were sweating. I wanted her foot to stroke mine more, for longer, I wanted my hands on her legs, over her stockings and then her skin. The warmth of her foot made me forget about the rejection, it made me not think about the lipstick stain. Was this her okay? Was this her 'I want you to know something important'? Her saying 'you know, you know really.'
"Norah, what are you doing for Christmas?" Mr. Reed asked.
I looked over at him, clearing my throat quietly. "Christmas Eve my dad is working late so not much and Christmas day we'll just be opening gifts and celebrating together."
"Is it just you and your dad?" He asked, chewing on one side of his mouth.
I nodded. Mio's foot slid off mine slowly. "Just me and him."
"Why don't you eat an early Christmas dinner with us on Christmas Eve if your dad's working late? We wouldn't mind." He offered, smiling hard.
"Yeah, that would be fun, come eat with us." Jackie chimed in, covering her mouth as she chewed.
Mr. Reed looked at Mio.
"Yeah, no problem at all." She said quietly. Her foot was nowhere near me then. Had it just been a spur of the moment thing? Or had she just realised she was revolted by me?
"Alright. I'll come for dinner, thank you." I said.
After Mr. Reed stopped talking and it was safe to say dinner was over, everyone stood from the table and Mio started clearing plates. I hovered by the table. I wanted to stay by her, help wash up and talk to her. I think she saw that. She glanced at me as I stood, holding my plate awkwardly. I looked at her pointedly, I was trying to say 'I'm going to help you clear up, if he leaves. Make him leave.'
She opened her mouth and faced Mr. Reed. I smiled.
"Eddie, could you give me a hand?" She said, angling her head away from me. My stomach dropped. She was suddenly avoiding me like the plague, it honestly stung. Mr. Reed came forward and took the plate from my hand, then went to her at the sink.
I wasn't going to beg or linger about hoping she'd change her mind. I followed after Jackie, hanging my head like a dog. I just wanted to know how to make her talk to me. If she was going to ignore me forever, I just wanted a few more words before she did. I was hoping I'd make her think again, or at the very least, I could apologise for crashing into her life the way I did.
I spent the rest of the evening curled in Jackie's lap like a lazy cat. She played music and showed me outfits from magazines, pointing to the ones she said would suit my body the most. But the entire time, as I always was, I was thinking of Mio. I was starting to think my determination was not such a good thing - because at that point, I still hadn't given up with my quest to get close to her. I didn't see us being much closer than mouth to mouth, but that memory was imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. And it was dripping with hope.
"You're depressed, you are." Jackie closed the magazine beside my ear to get my attention.
"Maybe." I mumbled.
"Is it because Giana hates you? Because I can sort that for you--" she started.
"No, no. That's fine. I deserve that."
"Saying things like that make me think you're depressed."
I chuckled gently. "A rough few days doesn't make me depressed."
She stroked my hair down against my ear. "You cut your hair, right?"
"Thanks for noticing, yeah earlier." I smiled.
"Should've let me do it."
"Why? Have I made a shabby job of it?"
She hummed, studying the ends of my hair."A little."
"You bitch, I did a great job."
Like usual, Jackie got tired after hearing her parents go up to bed. She continued to chatter even when her eyes were drooping and her arms had gone limp against my waist. But once all the lights were out, she dozed against my shoulder while I laid there and stared at the ceiling, counting the dull glowing stars blu-tacked against it.
I was thinking, as I always was. The next time I would really see her would be Christmas Eve, and even then I wouldn't get to be alone with her. The only place I could truly be alone with her was downstairs. Downstairs at night.
If she didn't come there, she'd never come, and I'd give up. That dim living room and her nightgown, her mouth and my heart - those were the telltales.
I shifted out from under Jackie and quietly left the room. My hands were shaking at my sides, the tops of my ears were burning. I thought about the fact that she might be already down there waiting for me - the thought only made my shoulders tense. She might've had the thought before me, and down there, she'd confirm to me what she was thinking about. How I'd love to know what she was thinking about. I'd never need to know anything else ever if I knew what she was thinking.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was nothing. The light by the loveseat was off and she was upstairs in bed. My chest deflated. I stood there, feet bare against the cold flooring, and thought.
Think.
Think.
What next?
Perhaps she was hesitating; up those stairs, past that stubborn door, in the arms of that man. She was hesitating. I would wait.
I'm waiting for you.
Five minutes passed and I still waited. I started to pace, then bite my nails then stop and glance up the stairs every few seconds. But no movement came. No sound, not a shuffle. What if she wasn't hesitating? What if she wasn't even thinking? She was just sound asleep and I was standing alone, waiting like an idiot. Still though, I told myself five more minutes, just five minutes more.
And surely enough, after five minutes, I heard her coming. I knew it was her by the shape, by the sound of her feet against the carpet - I'd come to learn it by ear. I couldn't calm the frantic pounding of my heart. I thought I'd fall to my knees in front of her, that I'd embarrass myself.
I was standing just a bit away from the loveseat, and she was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She'd come no further forward than that though. The distance between us was stoney and thick; it was impossible to ignore.
"You look like you're scared of me." I mumbled.
"Not of you." She sighed, wrapping her robe over her torso and crossing her arms.
"Of the kiss?"
I watched her cringe. It felt as if she'd pinched me, right in the centre of my chest. "Let's... not." She said.
"We have to. I can't have you just ignoring me. Please." My hands were trembling again.
"Can we not?" She looked like she was going to leave.
"I won't say kiss, okay?" I said in a rush.
She said nothing.
"I won't ask you why you did it, because I know you won't tell me." I swallowed. "But just don't act so disgusted in me."
Even in the dark, I saw her features soften. Her voice came out gently. "Oh, Norah, I'm not disgusted in you."
It was the way she'd said 'oh, Norah.' Tears sprouted at my eyelids, but I didn't blink. I wouldn't let them run.
"Then forget about it if you need to. You should." I sniffed, straining to keep my eyes from really watering. "But I can't."
She paused then whispered, "I can't either."
My heart swelled.
"I can't stop thinking about you." Her voice got all sharp and raspy like she was trying not to cry.
She told me. She told me what she was thinking. I couldn't really breathe. Me, she'd been thinking about me. Like I was thinking about her? I didn't know. I wanted to. I wanted to know more and more, anything else she would tell me. I wanted to kiss her.
I stepped forward to her, and she backed up onto the step, shaking her head.
"Don't. I just needed you to know that, Norah." She said. "Just know that I think about that too. Too much."
I'm glad, I wanted to whisper, I'm so glad.