From His Lips (3 page)

I watched as she tidied up, collected her
things and walked to the bus stop. She was fumbling in her purse
for change when the bus obscured her from my view. Then she was
gone, an unknown commuter on a sleepy ride home.

I pulled out a few bills from my wallet and
swallowed the last of my drink. I thought about calling Ryan and
letting him know I was going to skip lunch tomorrow.

Hey, Ryan. Guess what? You know your father’s
assistant? Yeah, the one that’s married. I just spent the last few
hours stalking her. That’s what I said. I sat across from her work
and watched her. I wish I knew. She just gets to me, man. I feel
like shit. I know. I don’t think I can sit across from her and her
husband and make small talk. You get it, right?”

I called Matilda instead.

PAST

My room faced the water. When the sun came out, it
bounced off the lake and cast rippling strobes of light on the
ceiling.

“So pretty.” It fascinated Matilda. “Your
home.
Hervorragend
.”

We’d spent half the night at a twenty-four
hour burger joint, and the other half on the roof of my car,
looking at the stars. It was nice, but now I was buzzing to go.

“I’m going for a run,” I said.

She looked at me uncomprehendingly.

“A run. You know, exercise.” I mimed.

“Ah. Ekzersize. I know best ekzersize.”

She locked her heels around my waist. She had
long, strong legs and eyes that reminded me of a jungle cat—pale
green, but shot with gold. It was easy to lose myself in her wild
embrace. This could be The Summer of Matilda. But I’d stopped last
night and I was pulling away this morning.

“No like?” she asked.

I loved the way she said ‘like’. Half-way
between lick and like.

All hail The Summer of Girls With Sexy
Accents.

“I like.” I kissed her.

This was every guy’s dream—a sweet, sexy,
summer romp, at the end of which she’d head back home and I’d head
back to college. I felt the rush of my response to her touch, her
splayed-out hair, her big, wide pupils. But something didn’t feel
right. And that very word—‘feel’—made me uncomfortable.

“I have to go for my run,” I said.

“Okay. I will watch light.” She went back to
staring at the ceiling.

She was easygoing and sexy and cool.

I had to get my shit together.

This was
not
going to be The Summer of
Regrets.

*****

“Hey, Bob. It's Troy. Sorry, I’m not going to make it
for lunch, but I’ll be by later. No. Everything’s fine. Yeah. See
you soon. Thanks.”

I’d called to make sure Ryan’s family didn’t
wait for me, but they’d left the door open when I got there. There
were no other cars in the driveway so I figured I’d timed it just
right.

“Hello?” I called as I let myself in.

No answer.

I walked through the hallway, past the
kitchen, and froze when I got to the living room.

Shayda was still here.

And she was looking out to the backyard,
through the sliding door.

Why the fuck was she standing there alone?
Where was her husband? Why wasn’t she out there with everyone
else?

I could see Ryan and Jayne goofing around
with hoses in their hands. Then Bob and Lizzie got involved and
soon the whole family was running and screaming and getting
soaked.

All right! A water fight.

I could do a water fight. I could walk past
Shayda, totally unaffected, and join in. This time it was
different. This time I was prepared for whatever weird, walloping
sensation might hit me, and I was ready to punch that sucker
straight back to oblivion.

She didn’t hear me walking up behind her. She
was engrossed in the scene before her—all the laughing, hitting,
yelling, squealing.

I was about to say something funny and silly
and totally absurd. Then I caught her reflection in the glass.

You know those moments in childhood that
completely floor you? Like the first time you see a dead bird or a
dead squirrel and you realize that things die? You’re momentarily
seized with a longing to revert back to a time when you didn’t
know, a time of innocence and endless possibilities. That was the
longing I saw in Shayda’s eyes as she looked out that door—open,
naked, unguarded longing.

I wanted to retrace my steps, wait at the
traffic light instead of flooring it to make the amber; I wanted to
sleep in a little longer, dally over the phone with my parents,
stop at the gas station for chewing gum—anything to go back and add
a few more seconds, a few more minutes, because then I would have
missed it. The look on her face.

But it was too late. Our eyes met in the
reflection as I stood behind her, and the look turned to shame and
humiliation. The horror of being caught with your mask down. For a
while, she just stood there, like a deer that knows it’s been
caught in the hunter’s cross hairs. Then she bolted.

I seized her before she could escape, pinning
her against the glass, my hand over hers, so I could anchor her,
keep her from getting swept away.

Hey. It’s okay.

She made a small, choking sound when I pulled
her away from the sliding door. My arms went around her and her
cheek found my chest. And just like that, something fell into
place.

All of my wild, crazy exuberance fit
perfectly in the quiet crevices of her dreams. It was as if all my
life, I had been running towards this moment, this diamond sharp
clarity of being and belonging, this strange, intriguing girl with
her rose breath and her broken wings.

I didn’t
want
to feel this. I wanted
Matilda and wild, summer escapades and no strings. And
this
could never be
that
. This was so many strings that I felt
like a puppet. She could contort me in a million different
ways.

Run, Troy, run.

But I just stood there, holding her. Because
I fucking
liked
having her in my arms.

It was simple and as complicated as that.

*****

The sun had set, but the air was still hot and humid.
Crowds of revelers had laid claim to their beach spots with picnic
baskets and coolers and folding chairs.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to hustle for
space here,” said Ellen. “Thanks for having us over.”

“My pleasure.” I replied. “We’d be there
already if the traffic wasn’t so bad.”

“You think your car will be all right at the
gas station?” asked Ryan.

“Greta said she’ll look after it.” I glanced
back at Shayda. She was trailing along with Jayne.

We’d jumped apart when a loud splash brought
us back to our to senses—Jayne pushing Ryan into the pool. She ran
back to the house, squealing, when Ryan threatened to come after
her.

“Troy!” she said, when she saw me. “We’ve
been expecting you.”

I extracted myself from her ardent,
puppy-love hug. “We?”

“I’m going too,” she said. “And Shayda.”

And so here I was, walking around like I was
perfectly cool with it, when really I was in the ring with the
twisted fuck called fate, slugging it out, one round at a time,
because it wasn't fair that we kept getting thrown together. This
was not how I’d planned to catch the fireworks.

“So will Matilda join us later?” asked
Ryan.

“Matilda?” Jayne caught up to us. “Matilda’s
not coming, is she?”

I laughed. When Jayne wanted something, she
wanted something. And right now, she definitely did
not
want
Matilda around.

“Matilda’s host family had other plans for
tonight. She’s not going to make it.”

The grin on Jayne’s face. Like she’d just
scored the last cookie in the cookie jar.

“It’s not going to happen,” I said.

“What’s not going to happen?”

“Whatever you’ve got spinning in that
delightfully stubborn head of yours.”

“You think I’m delightful?” The grin grew
wider.

She was impossible. And adorable. Like one of
those wind up toys that just kept going and going.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We better hurry or we
won’t make it to Troy’s in time.”

I glanced back and stopped. “Hey, where’s
Shayda?”

She was nowhere in sight. Behind us, the
boardwalk was teeming with obscure figures, all jumbled up in a
long trail of shadows.

“Does she know where we’re heading?” I
asked.

“No,” said Jayne. “I didn’t think to tell
her.”

“Shit.” My eyes scanned the crowd. She could
be anywhere by now.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead?” I handed Ryan
my keys. “No point in all of us missing the show.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Jayne, latching on
to my arm.

“You stick with Ryan and Ellen. I don’t want
risk losing you too.”

“But—”

“Jayne.” Ryan tugged her away firmly. “Let’s
go. You sure you don’t need help, Troy?”

“I’ll find her.” I knew I would. Somehow. I’d
always find her.

Yeah, dickhead. Find her, so you can let
her go
. The dirty bastard I was brawling with laughed and threw
me a nasty jab.

Fuck off, fate
. I’d forgotten about
our sparring session.

Screw you, Troy.

I parted my way through the surging mass of
strangers, looking for Shayda. It wasn’t too long before I spotted
her. She was wearing a cream dress in a sea of shorts and tees,
getting jostled around in the crowd. She didn’t seem to mind; it
was as if she was used to being invisible, used to people having no
regard for her.

My blood boiled as I made my way over and
spun her around.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“You found me.” She blinked, as if she
couldn’t get around the fact that someone had come back for
her.

“Of course.” Had no-one told this girl how
extra-ordinary she was? That she mattered? That it was okay to push
back instead of being pushed around?

I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from
the crowd.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

I should have said, “My place,” and headed
back to meet up with the rest of the gang. But I didn’t. Because I
wasn’t taking her there. I was going to test this girl’s limits,
push her until she pushed back, until I broke through that damn
cocoon she’d built around herself. Maybe I just wanted to spend
some time with her.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Because by the
end of the night, I had succeeded. On both counts. I’d poked and
prodded and goaded her until she lashed out. And god, was she ever
magnificent when she was angry. All that fire and pain and
bottled-up angst. I might have left a dent in her shell, a small
chip where we collided, but in turn she cracked me wide open.

We might have had a chance then, to do it
right—a small bud of ‘perhaps’ that could have bloomed had we taken
another path. But something happened that night, a discovery that
shook me up as much as it did her. And it nipped whatever might
have been. We were like clouds in the face of giants—little wisps
of ‘maybe’ that had no business lingering over vast fields of
family, and bonds, and molds that had already been set.

“Goodbye, Shayda Hijazi,” I said as the
elevator doors closed on me.

“Goodbye, Troy Heathgate,” she replied.

It was a few hours that one night, but I
always remembered it as The Summer I Met Shayda Hijazi.

PAST

“I'd better see your sorry ass,” said Jayne.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I
replied. “I want to pass on my condolences in person. What’s his
name?”

“Matt. And you’re just jealous because you
lost out.”

“Big time. And I know you’re inviting me just
so you can roast my heart on your big day.”

“You don’t
have
a heart.”

“Ouch. Are you ever going to drop it?”

“That you dated every girl but me? Never,”
she laughed. “So shall I put you down for two?”

“Could you make that three?”

“Oh? I know it’s been a while, but I had no
idea you’re a family man now.”

“Not that kind of three.”

“What other kind of three...?” Jayne trailed
off. “Oh.
That
kind of three. Is that what’s going on?”

“It is.”

“I believe this is the first RSVP that’s made
me blush.”

“You? Impossible,” I teased.

“
You’re
impossible.”

“How’s Ryan?”

“He’s great. You know he and Ellen have two
kids now, right? He’ll be thrilled when I tell him you’re moving
back. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I moved here right after college.”

“Well, Toronto’s waiting. We’ve missed
you.”

“I’ll see you soon, Jayne. Give my best to
Bob and Lizzie.” I hung up and looked out at the New York skyline.
I was going to miss this hustling, bustling centre—the noise, the
smell, the constant, churning energy.

*****

I smiled as I entered the banquet hall. Jayne
Worthing was a little minx. And she hadn’t changed one helluva
bit.

“Where did you go, handsome?” Felicia pulled
me aside. She was wearing a jewel-collared halter dress that showed
off her sexy, tanned shoulders.

“I just checked in with the bride. I haven’t
seen her in years.”

“Did you have a nice reunion?” asked Heather.
She complemented Felicia perfectly in a black metallic sheath and
dangling silver earrings.

“We did.” I replied.

“I’ll say.” She wiped my mouth with her
cocktail napkin and handed it to me.

Lipstick.

“You’re a naughty boy,” said Felicia.

“I think we should punish him tonight,”
Heather whispered in her ear.

“I think we should leave him out all
together,” she replied.

They turned their backs on me and walked off,
hand in hand.

It was all part of the delicious games they
played.