Chapter Four
The cicadas chirped brightly beyond the windows of my house. Inside, the clock on the shelf ticked and I found myself staring at the grooves and knots in my table. Slowly, I licked my lips and lifted my eyes, seeing Gray sitting across the table from me, his elbows pressed against the wood. He seemed to be soaking the room in. I glanced around rather sheepishly, aware that I lived in more of a shack than I did a house. Not even a bucket to pee in. Gray's face didn't let onto much, however, as he cast a look at my entertainment center and outdated TV. He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering. He reached forward, grabbing a silver framed photograph. It was of me and Gray when we were ten years old. We sported toothy little smiles, our lanky arms tangled around each other. My cheeks were red and flushed, Gray's pale skin lathered up in sunscreen. Behind us, the ocean was nearly as bright as his eyes and our bathing suits were colorfully assaulting. I couldn't tell what was running through Gray's mind as he took the time to stare at the picture, very intently. He almost looked hurt, but also nostalgic. I guess maybe it made him sad but also warm.
Something trembled inside of me, however, as I watched him look over that photograph. There was no smile on his face. Gray was looking at it in such a way, one could believe both the people in the picture were no longer alive. Were we? Dead, gone, and buried just like all those memories that kept me awake at night. The ones that hurt me time and time again, yet I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. If Gray felt that way at all, he certainly kept a stable, unaffected poker face. The silence was starting to become suffocating for me. And the longer I watched him, the more I didn't believe it. I thought I'd never see him again. That I was damned to spend the rest of my life wondering about him. How could it be that this grown young man, who looked just like my childhood best friend, was actually him? Gone was the innocence that adorned his full eyelashes and pinchable cheeks. Now there were carved cheekbones and eyes full of brick walls.
Finally, Gray swallowed and replaced the picture back on the shelf. He sighed quietly and looked around the room slowly. And, after a beat, he furrowed his brow as his eyes followed the caramel baseboards and scrutinized the wavy pattern in the wooden panels. "This house must be new. Derrick's didn't look like this," his voice, so changed, startled me. Though, I shouldn't have been surprised. Gray blinked rapidly before his gaze came to meet mine, practically flabbergasted. "Where's the kitchen? And… the bathroom?"
"Well," I let out a winded breath, bobbing my head coolly. "Your guess is as good as mine. The woodsmith, Guy, or Gary… No…"
"Gotz."
"... right, Gotz," I pointed towards him as I still tried to play nonchalant to the situation. "He forgot them."
"That makes sense," Gray's eyes again scanned around the little room. "Gotz doesn't have any either."
"Uh-huh," My eyebrows found themselves cocking up. "I don't even want to know." I suddenly found myself embarrassed about my house. Woodsmith or forest man, what have you, who in their right mind forgot the most basic of amenities in housing? And, of course, I'm the one who found the most unique house in the world. I stood up and crossed to the ice chest at the end of my bed. I rifled through it before I was able to find two small glass bottles of lemonade. Ann had given them to me
"Where do you shower?" Gray asked, watching as I threw the bottle caps in the bin.
"At the inn," I replied, coming back to the table. I was hoping that was the final question about my little shoebox. I slid the bottle across the table to Gray who scooped it up and studied the label.
"That's where I live," Gray's blue eyes met mine now as I settled back onto my cushion. I nodded as I took a big swig of the tart, lemony drink.
"I know," I clucked my tongue. "Ann told me."
He paused, the glass bottle hovering just inches from his lips. The way he gazed across the table was enough to make me flush. That look on his face - it was questioning, it was disbelieving, it was astounded. I couldn't tell exactly what he thought of me. Was I the unhelpful, unwanted, link to his past? Or was I a sign of good luck? Did he think I was incredibly selfish? Stupid? Vain? As we stared at each other in the absolute silence of my house, save the one squeaky fan above us, and sweaty bottles of lemonade running rings into my table, I couldn't form a cohesive thought in my head. All I could do was look at his face and wait for him to, hopefully, say something. If someone had come and looked through the window, they probably would have cringed to see what looked to be a blind date going so awfully wrong. Gray was slow to open his mouth, taking a curt breath.
"When did you get here?" His brow was knitted together, his wet and cold hand forgotten around his glass of lemonade.
"Honestly, just two days ago," I was fast to reply. "But, you're right… it really does feel like a lifetime."
"I just don't understand," Gray shook his head. "This is basically impossible, Claire."
"What is?"
"That… you'd choose some island on the map at random to move to and it's… where I am…" Gray's voice was somewhat strained and husky. Something about that very thought seemed to reach deep within him. Did it bother him? Did he consider it unlucky? It was of no matter, however.
Surprisingly, I let out a short, airy laugh, lowering my eyes to the table. "I'm not capable of luck like that, Gray," my eyelashes fluttered as I looked back to his questioning face. "I asked Grandma Williams."
I could tell, this time, those words stung. His lips parted slightly and the corners of his eyes curled ever so slightly. He climbed to his feet, his sooty work boots thumping against the floorboards. Gray let out a long sigh as he went to peer out the window that overlooked the farm. It was getting late, however, and it was dark beyond the panes with my flickering gas lamps.
"I haven't heard anyone say that name in so long," Gray said plainly, shaking his head. "I haven't had a letter from her in four years. I was worried she… died." He turned towards me now, shrugging. "I wouldn't put it past my grandfather to not tell me."
"Well, if it makes you feel better…" I hopped up as well, hugging myself as I wandered slightly towards him. "She is doing really well. Still lives in that little, old house on Robin Egg Lane. And she still makes her cookies just like she used to."
After a beat, I could see a smile forming in his reflection. Gray looked over his shoulder at me. "I think that's what I miss most about the city… Those damn cookies." We both shared a laugh as we stood at the window together. Gray sighed all over again, snugly tugging his cap down on his head. "You know, though… my grandfather isn't too happy with you being here."
"I didn't come here for him," I replied as a matter of fact. I began clearing the table of our drinks, the glass clinking together.
"What did you come here for?"
His voice had me pausing, my back to him, as I dangled a bottle over the bin in the corner of the room. Each word he spoke pulsated against me as I reviewed the last week of my life. How was it that seven days ago, I was waking up a quarter to six in the morning already miserable, resigned to getting dressed and trotting off to my own personal hell for eight and a half hours? A week ago, I had given in to the fact Gray had vaporized into practically thin air. I had a bank account and absolutely nothing to do with it. The lemonade bottle slipped from my grasp and fell into the bin with a large clank.
"You know…" my voice was soft and low. "I'm not entirely sure. At least, not yet." I turned to Gray, who was watching me carefully. "Once I found out you were here, I started doing all this research and that's when I found the farm. I started reading farming books and next thing I knew… I was on the pier."
"But how?" Gray asked, not taking a step towards me. "Didn't you have somewhere you lived? A job?"
"Nothing that wasn't replaceable or easily given up," I shrugged, shaking my head.
The way Gray was looking at me now was also foreign to me. The muscles in his face did not flex much, leaving a bit of mystery as to what was running through his mind. But his eyes, the way they fell over me, I didn't know how it made me feel. I wasn't sure if he was concerned or maybe disappointed. Maybe I was, too. Gray's eyes darted to the clock on my nightstand.
"I should go home. I gotta get up early," Gray reached for the brass doorknob, swinging open the door to the cool spring night. The nocturnal orchestra was bright and a welcoming, soft breeze rushed across my land. Luckily, in the darkness, I wasn't able to see the large amount of work that awaited me just out of my doorstep. I came towards the door and grabbed hold of it, swinging it back to see Gray out.
"I'm glad we got to chat," I said as evenly as possible.
Gray nodded and tugged at his hat again, sending one foot out the threshold. He paused, however, turning back to me. "It was really good to see you, Claire." He didn't wait for a response, though, before he turned and allowed the nighttime to engulf him.
After that, I sat in the silence of my home, lingering on the edge of my bed, looking at the wood paneled walls. Distantly, I heard the howl of a dog and the cicadas stayed present in my ears. There was even less to do in my new farmhouse than there was in the city. That didn't quite bother me, however, as I fell across my pillows and looked to the ceiling. All I could think about was Mineral Town. I'd never done anything so crazy and rash before. I wondered if I had made a mistake. But continuing to live in the city, surely, was the greatest of them all. Everything had to settle, I tried to reassure myself. Anxiety was blossoming like winding vines, trying its damndest to find my neck. I sighed deeply on my bed, digging my face into the side of my pillow.
All with due time, Grandma Williams liked to say.
…
The living room was an utter mess. The coffee table was cluttered with raggedly cut pieces of cardboard, streams of construction paper, and glue sticks teetering on the edge. The couch had several books open across it, stacked on top of each other with no regards to the pages beneath. A glue gun sat dripping just on the edge of the carpet, clinging to the dark hardwood floors. The TV was forgotten, uselessly going on about the weather for the weekend. I knelt down, making sure the legs on the table were firmly in place. Above me, Gray shifted our project into the center, a smudge of red paint on his cheek.
"All good?" I popped up, my hands crusted with dried glue and an ugly mix of paints.
"I think so," Gray turned in a circle for a moment before spotting the rubric our teacher had given us days before. He snapped it up and slowly began walking around our work. "It has a background… it has the right colors." He grinned boyishly and looked to me. "And, best of all, it works!"
"Well, we don't know until we test it," I told him, leaning in towards our work of art, tilting my head back and forth. "We should practice our presentation."
"We're gonna take the blue ribbon, I promise!"
"Let's do a test!" I turned to him now, pressing my hands against the stiff painting apron Grandma Williams gave me. She had pinned it up so I wouldn't trip over it. Gray lowered the rubric and gave me a deadpanned look. "If you want to win the science fair, you gotta let me do a practice round!"
"Alright, alright," Gray laughed, peeling out of his apron. He glanced at his dirty hands for a moment before he decided he didn't care. I copied, throwing my apron into the mess we had made of Grandma Williams' living room. The nine year old boy was quick to sprint to the archway leading to the kitchen. "Grandma, will you watch mine and Claire's science presentation?"
There was shifting on the other side of the wall before Grandma Williams appeared, a mug of warm tea steaming in her hands. Her green eyes were bright, her gray hair with streaks of faded blond done up into a bun atop her head, allowing a few framing bangs to fall around her heart shaped face. She was heading to the couch but paused when she realized the carnage we had left in her living room. For a slight second, I remember feeling extremely nervous. I knew it was a mess. And I had helped make it. But in the next beat, Grandma Williams surprised me. She laughed lightly upon seeing the sight of her living room and, instead, backed towards the entryway, waving towards us.
"Alright, I'm ready," she said. "It's so very exciting to get the first sneak peek."
Gray cleared his throat while I opted to stand beside our science project. I usually let him take the lead. Mostly just because he was so good at it. When we were children, Gray had been so exuberant, able to get anybody wrapped around his finger. How amazing it was to watch him and his charismatic ways. I watched, intrigued, hopeful that if I stuck around him long enough, it'd rub off on me, too. It never did, though.
"The year was 1980," Gray began, holding his arms out at his side as if he were presenting the greatest show on earth. "All people did for fun back then was listen to the radio and throw pebbles at tin cans!" Grandma Williams chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "But something exciting was about to happen and rock their world!" Gray nodded to me and I picked up a cup of bubbling vinegar. I felt like a scientist as I poured some of it out. And in the next moment, I was ducking in cover as our volcano exploded magnificently. I had put so much vinegar into it, the explosion had reached the ceiling. Gray leapt with excitement. "The St. Helens volcano exploded and left ash to rain down for days afterwards." The volcano continued to sizzle and erupt, now dripping onto the floor. "While destructive, volcanoes can be credited with building new land. They come from beneath and give us new, fun, exotic islands! And these deadly volcanoes, so eagerly waiting their turn to melt down, are responsible for all the water we drink and air we breathe! And that's all thanks to a process called degassing."
I jumped forward now, feeling somewhat more confident after Gray's perfect delivery of facts. "What did one volcano say to the other?"
"What?" Gray grinned at me.
"I lava you!" We broke into a series of laughs while Grandma Williams set her mug down, clapping her hands.
"Well," she pressed her hands to her hips. "It took the sacrifice of my living room, but your project came out magnificent. I have no doubt you two will do very well." She glanced up at the vinegar dripping from her ceiling. Surely that was going to stain. She didn't have long to think about it, however, when a ding went off, drawing her attention towards the kitchen. "Right on time! The cookies are done. I bet all this science has made you hungry." Gray and I didn't even need to be told twice. We scampered off for our treats, still splattered in paint, and reeking of vinegar.
When it came time for the actual science fair, I was an absolute nervous wreck. I wrung my hands together as Gray's father, George, carefully hauled our project out from the trunk of his car. Gray's mother, Susi, was gathering the rest of our ingredients into a tote bag. Gray was busy rattling off all his volcano facts in preparation. When we entered the gymnasium, was I amazed by the sea of science projects on every table. Candy making machines, proven photosynthesis, and probably at least half a dozen other volcanoes.
"Ours is better," Gray snickered to me as we found our name card. George and Susi were very eager to help as we situated ourselves, making sure the vinegar was ready to pour, and the index cards were neatly stacked. Gray was sure he wouldn't need them. By that point, he could do the speech in his sleep.
"Your father and I are going to do a lap," Susi said, casting a smile at her son. She then maternally reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Will you two be alright?" When her slender fingers drew away from me, I took a shallow breath. My mother never really took the time to touch me like that. She didn't comb her fingers through my hair or pinch my cheeks. She rarely even smiled at me. When I blinked, I realized George and Susi had already set off to check all the other projects out.
I turned away, looking over my list of volcano jokes and puns. Gray was eyeballing the inside of the volcano. He wanted enough baking soda to fill the entire gym with our volcano's explosion. He paused from his measuring, though, when he realized I was staring right through the piece of paper in front of me.
"You alright?"
"Yeah…" I blinked slowly, watching as he evened out his ingredients in the beaker.
"Nervous?"
"Of course," I replied.
"Well, no worries. This is going to impress your parents for sure!" Gray grinned as he dumped the baking soda into the crater of the volcano.
"They're not coming, Gray," I turned away from him, as if I were ashamed. Part of me was. If not even the people who had created me could love who I was, then who in their right mind would ever allow themselves to be open and forward with me? Slowly, Gray lowered his beaker.
"We're gonna win the blue, Claire," he was his typical self-assured little boy. "And we'll go to space camp this summer!"
I looked over my shoulder at him. "I hope so, Gray."
We didn't win the blue. We didn't go to space camp that summer. But that was okay because I got to eat ice cream with Mr. and Mrs. Williams who were proud despite how it turned out. Gray was disappointed, sure, but his faithfully wise mother pointed out that it was more important that we worked together and had fun. I remember looking up from my banana split and looking across the table at Gray. He was so, so lucky, I thought. But I was, too, and I felt that as his eyes met mine and he smiled at me.
