Fiction: And love, it changes everything
Title: And love, it changes everything
Genre: Fiction
Words: ~1000
Rating: PG-13
Professional Notes: Written for synecdoche , for the second challenge at inrevelations.
Summary: She makes a picture, the red-headed girl with legs too long, breasts too small (nonexistent, really), and freckles to top it all off, lying alone on a bright yellow towel.
-
Chloe does not want to be here. No friends, just a chain-smoking mother and a father who will spend all his time on the phone talking to the office, despite the fact that they're on vacation.
The Lake is beautiful with its clear water and rustic log cabins. Her mother complains of the heat, her dad that it's "too fucking bright." But at twelve years old, lack of air conditioning is less of a concern than the fact that you have nothing to do for a week. Swimming is only fun for so long, and she can't read more than an hour before her eyes start to hurt.
The first day is spent outside, on the beach in front of the cabin. She makes a picture, the red-headed girl with legs too long, breasts too small (nonexistent, really), and freckles to top it all off, lying alone on a bright yellow towel.
That second day is what will come to be known as The Beginning. When Chloe meets Anderson, her skin already possesses a pinkish tinge, and her chopped off hair is stuffed into two short, stick-like pig tails.
The July sun watches the two, sees the first awkward smiles, the shy introductions, followed almost immediately by the first of countless hours spent wading and splashing and swimming, the games of Truth or Dare, the s'mores roasted by the fire at the first hint of twilight.
Chloe thinks it was the best week of her life.
She cries herself to sleep on the trip back home.
-
They don't get a chance to meet again until August. With the intensifying heat comes the first day of school and a hug, two grins that have not been seen in a month.
After that, they become inseparable.
-
They've been friends for a year when she is invited to go along with Anderson and his family to the symphony. Her stockings itch and her black dress is too tight, but the music is flowing and moving and so unfamiliar and she falls in love with Beethoven that night.
She finds herself holding her breath with every crescendo, riding the waves of emotion the music evokes.
It's over, she's exhausted, and her left foot is asleep.
She turns to Anderson to thank him, but nothing comes out. She smiles instead. She thinks he understands. (Then they drive her back to her house, and it's back to the land of cheap tapes of even cheaper lyrics.)
-
Junior year of high school arrives, and their relationship becomes more complicated.
It's the invasion of the girlfriend, and Chloe gets a sick feeling in her stomach when she watches them.
Three weeks later, she has a boyfriend. His name is Ryan, and he's cute and charming and her parents love him (which is a little misleading because they don't give a shit but her mom quirks an eyebrow and says he's hott).
Double dating becomes a habit, eases the whole "third wheel" feeling.
And they spend just a little too much time talking to each other, maybe.
He always glances at her sideways during the movie.
Her heart always beats a little faster.
-
Senior year creeps upon them, and the young fascination with having a significant other diminishes. They're both content to stay single.
Once, she leaves her hand out on the table between them while they're drilling French verbs, as a test of sorts.
He casually lets his fingers fall against hers. They stay there.
Not a word about it is spoken.
(Her examen the next day does not go as well as it should have.)
-
There's an almost moment, once. (Isn't there always?)
She leans in at just the right moment, he is turning, and there's a collision.
A spark.
A touch of the skin.
A halting of breaths.
A fleeting glance at lips.
A moment in time.
A blink of the eyes and things are back to normal with a whoosh of breath into the lungs.
-
She reads Wuthering Heights for the first time lying opposite him on his bed while he plays on his new laptop, radio humming somewhere in the background.
When she finishes, she heaves a contented sigh and stares up at the ceiling, still lost and reveling in the world of Heathcliff and Cathy.
He waits, feels when she fades back into reality before asking.
"How was it?"
"Amazing."
He smiles.
This is the day she knows for sure.
-
Two hours after she turns eighteen, she kisses him. This is what adults do, right? They confront things head on, no more hiding behind pretenses and secret, sighing glances that really aren't even all that secret.
It's not desperate, not demanding. Not like she thought it would be.
It's...content, almost. Like this particular moment is when they were always meant to happen.
She's losing her breath and his hands are lightly gripping each side of her face and he leans his forehead against hers, breathing heavily even though the kiss barely lasted five seconds.
His right hand reaches through their bodies to grasp her left.
-
At twenty-three, their story takes a new leap. A diamond glitters on her left hand, and they're moving in together tomorrow. (It's still a few months until the wedding, and her mother makes no effort to hide her tight scowl of disapproval.)
The house is still empty right now, save for them, a mattress, and two paper plates that had held their supper. It's an old house, with creaks and cracks and a unique sort of beauty only classic houses can possess. She can feel the rooms, seemingly empty, but brimming with promise.
Her feet are bare against the floorboards as she stands at the window of what is to be their bedroom, forearm against the wooden frame.
She watches the sunset.
His arms are around her waist.
~la fin
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