When he heard the rocks hitting his window, he was firstly frightened. The room was dark, and it was almost midnight, at least, if not after one, and he was lying alone in a room that had always secretly frightened him a little. He froze.
The rocks hit the window again. A handful of small, pebble-ish rocks that he couldn't imagine were natural anywhere around his house. When the rocks hit the window for the third time, he twitched. He stood slowly. He walked over to the dark window in nothing but his boxers and looked out, as the dim, shallow yellow light from the streetlamp faded in.
Amy.
She stood in the grass on the far side of his front yard, wearing dark jeans and a black turtleneck. Ephraim laughed to himself and pulled up his window glass.
"Where's your ski mask?" he called down.
Amy was silent, staring up at him with a pale face that looked like fear.
"Amy, what the fuck-"
Amy made a decapitating gesture with her hand across her neck, and then she waved him down.
Ephraim made a big-eyed face and pointed down with the first fingers on both hands incredulously.
Amy nodded bigly.
Ephraim shook his head and spun his finger in a circular motion around his ear. "Crazy" he mouthed.
Amy only gestured him down more ardently. Ephraim didn't know for sure, but there seemed to be a ring of desperation in her body. He sighed heavily and frowned down at her. He held up a finger to wait, and fumbled back into his room, grabbing a shirt and throwing it on and then sticking his head out into the hallway. His father's door was closed, and his lights were off. Ephraim felt himself bite his lower lip compulsively.
He slipped on sock-less sneakers and threw one pale, skinny leg over the edge of the window. He would have attempted going through the downstairs, if it didn't have a security system attached to the front door. He supposed that if a man started climbing in Ephraim's window, he was expected to get the hell out of the room before he had to worry about it. Either that or Andy just forgot.
Ephraim dangled from the gutter and dropped, as he had before, landing somewhat more deftly on his feet and then his knees on the grass. He got up quickly and brushed himself off. Amy grabbed his elbow and led him around the side of the house. When they got there Ephraim snapped his elbow out of her grasp with an angry nip and reeled on her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he whispered harshly.
"Ephraim!" she whispered back, not so much as to quiet him, it seemed, but out of pure surprise and a little disgust at his reaction.
How was it that he could never hold a temper against her? She was probably the one person in his life who deserved a little hatred, but he just couldn't. Not for lack of trying. She wasn't only disarming, she made him feel guilt in his anger, even in his just anger, and he reviled that the most.
"Amy, what the hell are you doing?" he asked her calmly, looking her in the eyes.
Amy's mouth tensed and quivered, and the tips of her plucked eye brows dipped downward in a sad, shaking frown.
"Look, Amy-" Ephraim started, feeling the guilt rush him again.
"I really I need you, Ephraim." She said, in a strong, deep voice, trying to keep from crying.
"What happened?" Ephraim asked, the guilt leaving him, the anger leaving him, barren and cold like nothing; like clean snow.
"My dad ... nothing." She said decidedly. "Nothing happened, I just." She looked off over Ephraim's shoulder for a long time. "Did you ever feel like you just had to leave?" she asked him. He looked at her flatly.
"Of course."
"Well, I ... I just have to."
"You're leaving? Where the fuck to?"
"I was thinking New York." She said, trying to read his face. He looked at her in surprise for a moment, and then all the features on his face leveled and flattened, as though he were a ripple of something very small. He looked at her calmly and without emotion, perhaps with a disbelieving kind of detachment.
"You want me to go with you." He said.
Tears clouded Amy's eyes and she nodded hopelessly.
"Amy ... Amy no. Don't do this." Ephraim pleaded calmly. Amy turned away and beat her fists in the air once, bringing them down on her thighs.
"God dammit!" she exclaimed. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't do this!" she exclaimed.
"Amy, it's not that-"
"I came here, I came, with my pockets full of stupid pebbles so that I could throw them at your damn window because I thought you would understand!" she yelled.
"Look, this sounds lame, but you're upset. It's late and you're upset about Colin, and-"
Before Ephraim could finish his explanation Amy's lips were pressed up against his. Her tongue was pushing itself into his mouth. Her hands were searching up his sides, and the dark was seeming bright.
Ephraim pushed her off of him angrily.
"I'm going inside." he nearly yelled, turning quickly and marching heavily and quickly back toward his house.
"Ephraim!"
"You manipulative bitch!" he yelled.
"No, no Ephraim," she sobbed from behind him. "That wasn't why I did that ... I wasn't trying to ... oh Ephraim, I wasn't!" She had the air of a girl losing something quickly. Of someone not willing to release time.
"Then what the fuck do you think your doing!" he exclaimed, feeling strange tears flood his eyes. They seemed weird because he didn't know what brought them; anger or sadness or the intense, severe love he felt for this girl weeping before him in the streetlamp light on the snow in his front lawn.
"I know it's wrong, okay? I know it's wrong and unfair and unkind and selfish, but I want ... I want to have what we could have had before."
Ephraim looked up at the chill, clear, cold winter moon and laughed. "Are you really that codependent? When there's someone else around who's better, I'm nothing, but now you're in love with me because I'm the only one left? Amy, fuck."
"Jesus, Ephraim, stop!" she begged, crumpling over on herself. "I have to *fucking* get away." she fell to her knees on the frozen snowy grass, and it cracked softly like ice beneath her jeans.
Ephraim went back to her and put his arms around her despite himself. Despite every last bit of himself.
"Shhh." He whispered. "What is this, Amy? What is this?"
Ephraim whispered calmingly to her for almost a minute when she finally looked up at him.
"Everything here is ... Colin. Everything here is Dad and Mom and, Jesus, everything here is Bright, and I can't stand it. I can't stand everything that's still *here*, even though it should be gone." She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in water and her cheeks pink from the clear cold. "And you're the only one. You're the only one."
Ephraim decided that this must be love; hating someone so much for the things they do, but loving them despite. Loving them without any taint, or any change, or any fade, despite. He tried to believe that it wasn't just how beautiful she looked in the clear light of midnight and the streetlamp and the moon, and the way his heart was pounding in the cold like some kind of creed, and the way her breath was frosting out in front of her parted lips that were bright red without make-up. And he believed it, because sadly, it was true. It was true that it didn't matter if she loved him back. It didn't even matter, god damn it.
Ephraim leaned in and kissed her, and she responded the way a girl that's kissed should, and when they separated, she breathed the way a freed woman breaths, the way someone who's sure breaths, the way someone who's in motion breaths.
He threw the guilt away and thought only of having what he'd always wanted.
"Go get your things." She said, smiling at him purely and breathing her free-woman breath. He nodded, and he did, because he had no choice. He had never had a choice.
The rocks hit the window again. A handful of small, pebble-ish rocks that he couldn't imagine were natural anywhere around his house. When the rocks hit the window for the third time, he twitched. He stood slowly. He walked over to the dark window in nothing but his boxers and looked out, as the dim, shallow yellow light from the streetlamp faded in.
Amy.
She stood in the grass on the far side of his front yard, wearing dark jeans and a black turtleneck. Ephraim laughed to himself and pulled up his window glass.
"Where's your ski mask?" he called down.
Amy was silent, staring up at him with a pale face that looked like fear.
"Amy, what the fuck-"
Amy made a decapitating gesture with her hand across her neck, and then she waved him down.
Ephraim made a big-eyed face and pointed down with the first fingers on both hands incredulously.
Amy nodded bigly.
Ephraim shook his head and spun his finger in a circular motion around his ear. "Crazy" he mouthed.
Amy only gestured him down more ardently. Ephraim didn't know for sure, but there seemed to be a ring of desperation in her body. He sighed heavily and frowned down at her. He held up a finger to wait, and fumbled back into his room, grabbing a shirt and throwing it on and then sticking his head out into the hallway. His father's door was closed, and his lights were off. Ephraim felt himself bite his lower lip compulsively.
He slipped on sock-less sneakers and threw one pale, skinny leg over the edge of the window. He would have attempted going through the downstairs, if it didn't have a security system attached to the front door. He supposed that if a man started climbing in Ephraim's window, he was expected to get the hell out of the room before he had to worry about it. Either that or Andy just forgot.
Ephraim dangled from the gutter and dropped, as he had before, landing somewhat more deftly on his feet and then his knees on the grass. He got up quickly and brushed himself off. Amy grabbed his elbow and led him around the side of the house. When they got there Ephraim snapped his elbow out of her grasp with an angry nip and reeled on her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he whispered harshly.
"Ephraim!" she whispered back, not so much as to quiet him, it seemed, but out of pure surprise and a little disgust at his reaction.
How was it that he could never hold a temper against her? She was probably the one person in his life who deserved a little hatred, but he just couldn't. Not for lack of trying. She wasn't only disarming, she made him feel guilt in his anger, even in his just anger, and he reviled that the most.
"Amy, what the hell are you doing?" he asked her calmly, looking her in the eyes.
Amy's mouth tensed and quivered, and the tips of her plucked eye brows dipped downward in a sad, shaking frown.
"Look, Amy-" Ephraim started, feeling the guilt rush him again.
"I really I need you, Ephraim." She said, in a strong, deep voice, trying to keep from crying.
"What happened?" Ephraim asked, the guilt leaving him, the anger leaving him, barren and cold like nothing; like clean snow.
"My dad ... nothing." She said decidedly. "Nothing happened, I just." She looked off over Ephraim's shoulder for a long time. "Did you ever feel like you just had to leave?" she asked him. He looked at her flatly.
"Of course."
"Well, I ... I just have to."
"You're leaving? Where the fuck to?"
"I was thinking New York." She said, trying to read his face. He looked at her in surprise for a moment, and then all the features on his face leveled and flattened, as though he were a ripple of something very small. He looked at her calmly and without emotion, perhaps with a disbelieving kind of detachment.
"You want me to go with you." He said.
Tears clouded Amy's eyes and she nodded hopelessly.
"Amy ... Amy no. Don't do this." Ephraim pleaded calmly. Amy turned away and beat her fists in the air once, bringing them down on her thighs.
"God dammit!" she exclaimed. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't do this!" she exclaimed.
"Amy, it's not that-"
"I came here, I came, with my pockets full of stupid pebbles so that I could throw them at your damn window because I thought you would understand!" she yelled.
"Look, this sounds lame, but you're upset. It's late and you're upset about Colin, and-"
Before Ephraim could finish his explanation Amy's lips were pressed up against his. Her tongue was pushing itself into his mouth. Her hands were searching up his sides, and the dark was seeming bright.
Ephraim pushed her off of him angrily.
"I'm going inside." he nearly yelled, turning quickly and marching heavily and quickly back toward his house.
"Ephraim!"
"You manipulative bitch!" he yelled.
"No, no Ephraim," she sobbed from behind him. "That wasn't why I did that ... I wasn't trying to ... oh Ephraim, I wasn't!" She had the air of a girl losing something quickly. Of someone not willing to release time.
"Then what the fuck do you think your doing!" he exclaimed, feeling strange tears flood his eyes. They seemed weird because he didn't know what brought them; anger or sadness or the intense, severe love he felt for this girl weeping before him in the streetlamp light on the snow in his front lawn.
"I know it's wrong, okay? I know it's wrong and unfair and unkind and selfish, but I want ... I want to have what we could have had before."
Ephraim looked up at the chill, clear, cold winter moon and laughed. "Are you really that codependent? When there's someone else around who's better, I'm nothing, but now you're in love with me because I'm the only one left? Amy, fuck."
"Jesus, Ephraim, stop!" she begged, crumpling over on herself. "I have to *fucking* get away." she fell to her knees on the frozen snowy grass, and it cracked softly like ice beneath her jeans.
Ephraim went back to her and put his arms around her despite himself. Despite every last bit of himself.
"Shhh." He whispered. "What is this, Amy? What is this?"
Ephraim whispered calmingly to her for almost a minute when she finally looked up at him.
"Everything here is ... Colin. Everything here is Dad and Mom and, Jesus, everything here is Bright, and I can't stand it. I can't stand everything that's still *here*, even though it should be gone." She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in water and her cheeks pink from the clear cold. "And you're the only one. You're the only one."
Ephraim decided that this must be love; hating someone so much for the things they do, but loving them despite. Loving them without any taint, or any change, or any fade, despite. He tried to believe that it wasn't just how beautiful she looked in the clear light of midnight and the streetlamp and the moon, and the way his heart was pounding in the cold like some kind of creed, and the way her breath was frosting out in front of her parted lips that were bright red without make-up. And he believed it, because sadly, it was true. It was true that it didn't matter if she loved him back. It didn't even matter, god damn it.
Ephraim leaned in and kissed her, and she responded the way a girl that's kissed should, and when they separated, she breathed the way a freed woman breaths, the way someone who's sure breaths, the way someone who's in motion breaths.
He threw the guilt away and thought only of having what he'd always wanted.
"Go get your things." She said, smiling at him purely and breathing her free-woman breath. He nodded, and he did, because he had no choice. He had never had a choice.