"Best birthday ever." Annabel questioned quietly against my chest. We were bundled up in the blanket on the floor, intertwined as much as possible.
"When I was thirteen." I said slowly, recapping the memory. "My dad surprised me with a road trip up to New York City. My birthday is in December, so we went ice skating at the Rockefeller Center, walked around. My mom took me and Mallory up to the top of the Empire State building. I loved the way it looked up there. Like you're on top of the world, everyone is below you like tiny specks. Cars look the size of ants. It was fun because we just spent the day together. That was the last time we were really a family."
"Do you miss your dad?" she whispered against my plaid shirt.
"I don't know. He wasn't much of the father-of-the-year type. I guess, I just miss him being around. Us all being together. Now, it's like we all live separate lives but we migrate to the same house every night." I told her truthfully.
"I know the feeling." She mumbled. Sometimes it makes my heart hurt when I see how sad Annabel can be. It reminded me of a song-lyric by Wakey! Wakey! I had never heard of them before, but Annabel played it on the show when she was covering for me. The song was called Dance So Good.
I remember when you lost your head/ Sometimes I wonder how you stay so sad when you're so beautiful.
Inspiration struck me like a shot of water being squirted from one of those plastic clown flowers. I sat up from the floor, still cradling her body against mine. She began to question me, but I shushed her.
I ran over, searching through the records in the bins until I found one that might work. It was gentle jazz music, the kind your grandparents would slow dance two when you were little. For some reason though, it seemed to fit. Maybe me and Annabel had that good old-fashioned, never going out of style, timeless love.
She looked at me like she was about to call the guys with butterfly nets to come and get me. I stood her up, taking both of her hands in mine. I lifted our twined fingers up, curling her arm around her head and making her turn.
She giggled lightly, wrapping one arm around my neck and the other rested lightly on my shoulder. She touch was light, like a butterfly. Her fingers felt so small. I wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her into the circle of my arms.
I got a rush of wanting to keep her here, in my arms forever. I know she's safe here, with me. I can protect her and make her happy, but them most important thing is that she knows that.
The way she was looking at me gave me the impression that she did.
"What makes you happy?" I asked against the skin of her forehead. I kissed it lightly, closing my eyes perfectly content. We twirled lightly underneath the twinkling Christmas lights. The jazz music filtered through the record player on the counter perfectly, adding a hint of romance.
"Well, lot's of things." She mumbled, pulling back to look at me.
"And the award for best use of a placeholder goes to . . ." I said in a dramatic announcer voice. She used the hand behind my neck to playfully smack the back of my head with the force of a drifting feather. I smiled, but nodded for her to continue.
"Well there are the simple ones." She said slowly, looking past my shoulder out to the dark street, illuminated by streetlamps. "Like a really good cup of coffee." She mumbled, smiling a bit to herself.
"Keep going." I breathed, wondering if that was even audible.
"Or a thunderstorm. When my car is nice and clean after going through 123SUDS." She caught my eye now and smiled as the memory engulfed us. I smoothed her hair back across her shoulder so I could get a better view of that pretty face.
"Well your roof doesn't have a hole in it" I growled playfully.
"That is true." She agreed with a nod. She grew quiet for a moment, pausing for awhile before continuing. "But then there are more complicated things that make me happy."
"Like what?" I asked, even though I pretty much know what she was going to say.
"Like when my mom is having a good day, it makes me happy. Or when my dad fails miserably at cooking us dinner. When I used to get upset, Kirsten would come into my room in the middle of the day in her PJ's and would sit with me in bed for a 'Daytime Sister Sleepover'" she smiled.
"It makes me happy to see Whitney smile. But there are things like peace, family, friends, strength, love," she eyed me specifically. "Those are all things that couldn't make me happier. And being here with you, doesn't even put it into words." She whispered, twirling her fingers in the hair at the top of my neck.
"I know exactly what you mean." I grinned slightly, kissing her hair.
"Ohmygod." She gasped a moment later, causing me to open my eyes out of the serenity. I blinked, stunned at her sudden change of mood. "It's after midnight. My dad is going to kill me." She groaned, flying out of my arms. The clock read 12:46
In two minutes, we managed to clean up all the Chinese food, put back all of the CD's we had mismatched, and close up the store before jumping into her car. Her fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel as we stopped for a red light.
She pulled up to my house on the quiet street, the streetlamps flickering to break the darkness. I could see my mom's shadow sitting on the couch in front of the T.V
"Are you going to be in trouble?" she muttered, eyeing the same scene as me.
"Nah." I breezed. "If I tell her you got me a good job, she won't care." She glanced down the darkened street, so I used her distraction to turn her head back to me, cradling her small face between my hands. Just the difference of her smooth, pearl skin and my thick, callused hands was astonishing.
"I love you Annabel Greene. I will see you tomorrow beautiful." I whispered, kissing her fiercely one last time. I didn't let her say anything, just got out of her car and started up the walk.
"Hey stranger." Her voice called under the gentle whirl of the automatic window being rolled down. "I love you too." She smiled, pulling away from the curb. I practically danced up the sidewalk, pounding up the porch in one leap.
"You're late." My mother said sternly, not taking her eyes off of Chelsea Lately as I closed the front door behind me.
"I know, I know. But before you get mad, let me explain." I pleaded, holding both hands in front of me in mock surrender.
"I finally give you a chance off of punishment and you come home at midnight?" She demanded angrily.
"A) it is Saturday." I reminded her, watching Tobey curl around my legs. Tobey was the cat my grandma bought my parents as an anniversary present right before the divorce. I reached down to scratch the top of his head.
"Where were you?" she asked, silencing the T.V to mute. Bad sign.
"I was with Annabel . . . " I started to say.
"Shocker." Mom breathed the interruption. I smiled in spite of myself but continued.
"But listen. She got me a job." I beamed.
"A job?"
"A job." I proclaimed, feeling déjà vu from my convo with Annabel this morning. "A real after school, actually salary earning job. At a music store her dad's friend owns. She can work there too." I grinned goofily, my mom smiled slightly.
"Well -. . . " She sighed, loosing the steam of battle.
"Yeah. She took me over there earlier and she was just showing me how to work and control everything. We ordered Chinese food and we lost track of time. I'm sorry." I said truthfully.
"Okay. But try to get home the day you leave next time okay?" she nudged.
"I promise." I vowed, holding three fingers up in a scout's honor. I waved slightly, heading towards the stairs.
"Hey hon. Come back here for a sec, I've been wanting to talk to you about something." She called, stopping me in the door frame.
"What's up?"
"I was just thinking. You and Annabel seem to be getting really serious." She noted, fluffing a pillow slightly like she was afraid to look me in the eye.
"Yeah. I love her Mom." I grinned. She caught my eye and smiled slightly.
"I can see that. But I just want you to be careful honey. With everything that she's been through lately, she must be really hurting."
"She really is." I breathed. "But if she needs me, I'll help her. No matter what." I said sternly, hearing the truth behind my own words.
"I know honey. But just be cautious. She might not be ready for a serious relationship right now." Anger boiled slightly in my blood, but I closed my eyes, focusing on the help she was trying to give me.
"She is mom. I know she is, she told me and I know it's true. I appreciate the help, but I know what's going on, okay?" I said, my tone snippy.
"Okay." She said, holding her hands in front of her. "I'm sorry. It's just that girl can't be doing too good right now."
"She isn't. But I'm helping her." I insisted.
"I know honey. And I know she loves you too, just be careful. Don't hurt her." She whispered, flickering her eyes between me and the same door Dad walked out of with his suitcase.
"That would just hurt me more." I told her, taking my time as I drifted up the staircase.