Hummingbird Heart (14 page)
Even with Jax's leather jacket lying beneath me, I could feel the beach's cold stones, knobby and hard against my spine. The fog made the world seem oddly shrunken, and I felt weirdly disconnected from what was happening. His breath was hot on my neck, one hand thrust between us, fumbling with the button of his jeans.
“Jax.” I tried to work my hands between our bodies to push him away from me. “Jax!”
“Yeah.” He kissed my collarbone and unzipped his jeans.
I couldn't do this. “I don't want to, I'm not⦔
“Oh, come on, Dylan.” He started kissing me again, his mouth muffling my words.
“No. Not here, anyway. Not like this.” I felt a flash of fearâwhat if he wouldn't listen? I pushed him away, harder this time, and turned my face away from his mouth. “I mean it, Jax. Stop it.”
“Shit.” He groaned and rolled off me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I sat up.
He looked at me and I couldn't read his face at all. “You know, some guys would call you a tease.”
“I'm notâI mean, I didn't mean to be. I just don't think, you know⦔
He crouched beside me, straightening his shirt. “Come on. You're not a virgin, are you?”
“Yeah.” My face burned. I wasn't about to tell him that, before tonight, I'd never done more than kiss, and not even much of that.
“No way.” He sat back and looked at me. “I figured everyone had done it by grade eleven.”
“Yeah, well. Guess I'm a little behind.”
He grinned. “I kind of like the idea of being your first.”
“What makes you so sure you will be?” I said, annoyed.
“Oh, I will.” He winked and held out a hand to me. “Come on, Cinderella. I'd better get you home before midnight.”
We headed back through the trees and up the long dark flight of stairs. The railing was smooth and cool under my hand, and the sound of waves on stone followed us, gradually growing distant.
I could still feel his hands all over my body.
Jax drove me home in silence, and I wondered if, despite his joking around, he was angry. In front of my house, he hopped off the bike and gave me a hand down. He lifted the helmet off my head. “I was hoping you might come out again tomorrow.”
“I don't think I can.”
Jax reached out a hand, tried to pull me close.
“My mother might be watching,” I whispered, and I pulled away.
Mom was still waiting for me, sitting outside in the dark on an upside-down ceramic pot. “Come sit down with me for a minute.” She patted another plant pot, gesturing for me to sit beside her. There were empty plant pots everywhere. She was always saying she was going to create this green, sun-filled space for reading and lounging, but she never did anything about it. It was just a narrow wooden porch, littered with dead leaves and cigarette butts.
I perched my butt gingerly against the railing, far enough away that Mom wouldn't smell the beer on my breath. There was an empty wineglass on the railing so probably she'd had a few drinks herself. Mom studied me for a moment. My cheeks felt warm and I was glad of the darkness. I felt like she'd be able to tell from my blush exactly what Jax and I had been doing down on the beach. I looked away from her and sniffed the air. “Are you smoking up? You know how much Karma hates it.”
She shook her head defensively. “Just a little. And I hardly ever do anymore, you know that. Did I tell you, Julia just had a lump taken out of her breast? It turned out to be nothing but still⦔ She made a face. “Inhaling carcinogens isn't half as much fun as it used to be.”
“Right. Well, please don't let Karma find you doing it, okay? It freaks her out.”
“Oh relax, Dylan.” She shook her head. “And give me some credit, would you? Karma's asleep.”
I didn't say anything.
The people who lived in the downstairs apartment of the duplex were home for once, playing country musicâa slow sad song, a husky-voiced woman singing about losing the one man she'd truly loved. I waited to see if I was going to get a lecture. For Jax, for the motorbike, for the twenty-five minutes past ten o'clock.
“Baby. You and that boyâ¦You will be careful?”
My face was hot. “I'm not you, okay, Mom? I have no intention of repeating the family history.”
Mom looked stung, but she didn't say anything. I looked at her more closely. Her eyes looked sad and sort of bruised. She'd been crying. Probably she and Scott had had a fight; that'd fit her usual pattern. I didn't care and I definitely didn't want to hear about it. “I'm going to bed,” I said.
She leaned toward me. “Dylan. We need to talk.”
My heart sped up.
Please don't tell me about Mark.
Don't tell me, don't tell me, don'tâ
“Mark called.” She let out a long unsteady breath. “He said you went to see him today.”
“Oh.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, you wouldn't tell me what was going on and I thought⦠I wanted to know. And I wanted to see him again.” The last words slipped out, catching me by surprise, and I could feel my face and neck and ears turning red.
“And he took advantage of the opportunity to manipulate you into doing what he wants. Goddamn it, Dylan. I was going to tell you.”
I shrugged, not looking at her. I didn't know whether I believed her. “Yeah, well.”
“So. You know then. About⦔
“His daughter. Casey. Yeah, he told me.” I wanted to tell her that I was going to do it. I tried to form the words, string them together, but somehow they didn't come. I didn't feel much of anything. I sat there, saying nothing.
“I wish you'd waited. I just needed some time to sort out what I was feeling.”
My mother was always sorting out her feelings. Apparently it hadn't occurred to her that this wasn't really about her at all. Mark wasn't her father. It wasn't her bone marrow that Casey needed.
“You should have told me,” I said.
“I was worried that you'd be hurt.”
“Yeah, well. Now I know, don't I?”
“Pickleâ¦can we talk about this?”
“It's late,” I said. “I have school tomorrow.”
Mom ran her fingers along the inside of her own wrist, touching the green hummingbird lightly. I hated that hummingbird now that I'd seen its twin on Mark's wrist. It was visible proof of her lies. Every time I glimpsed a flash of its green and red feathers, another wave of sick anger crashed into me.
“It's up to you, you know,” she said.
But it wasn't, not really. There was no decision to make. If I didn't do it and Casey died, I'd hate myself forever. Everyone who ever knew would hate me. Fury swelled in my chest, choked the words in my throat. I looked away from her, out into the darkness. “Why should I do anything for him?” I said. “He's never even wanted to meet me and now he just shows up and wants my bone marrow? It's⦔ I trailed off and turned back to my mother. She was crying. Face hidden behind her hands, shoulders shaking inside her black hoodie. “Mom? What is it?”
She didn't answer right away and fear flashed through me. “Mom? What's wrong?”
She took a deep shuddering breath, wiped her eyes and looked up at me. “He never knew.”
“Who? Mark, you mean? Never knew what?”
“When I got pregnantâ¦he was already with Lisa⦠and I neverâ¦I just left.” She reached over and put her hand on my arm. “I moved out west. I never told him.”
There was a painful thud in my chest and a roaring in my ears. I flung her hand off as if it were burning me. “About me? He never knew about me?”
“I thought it would be better. Easier.”
I stood up, wanting to get away from her. Hating her. “Easier for who, exactly?” I stepped toward the front door. “For you? Because it wasn't easy for me, thinking he never even wanted to meet me.”
“Dylan. I'm sorry. Please listen. Let me explain.” She was crying again, and it made me furious.
“I don't want to hear it,” I spat the words out. “You lied. Again. How am I supposed to believe anything you say, Mom? You make me sick.”
“Dylan, I wanted to tell you, lots of times. I just⦔
“I don't want to talk about it,” I said. “Just tell Mark I'll do it.”
I watched as her fingers traced the hummingbird tattoo. “I knew you would. He was in
tears
, Dylan. On the phone.”
I stared at her and slowly realized something: she was
relieved
. She had actually thought I might refuse. That was the only reason she had told me the truth. But if she could think that I'd let a little kid die just to get back at my father, she didn't know me at all. She didn't know me, and I didn't know her either. I looked away from the bright lie of the colors on her wrist, away from the tentative smile that was starting to lift the corners of her lips, and stared at the fog closing in. “I'm going to bed,” I told her, and my voice seemed flat, as if it could barely travel through the milky thickness of the air.
When I opened my eyes, Mom was standing beside my bed watching me. I groaned, rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head. “Mom. Could you not do that watching-me-sleep thing? It creeps me out.”
“Sorry, Pickle.”
I lay still for a moment, hoping she'd go away, thinking about what she'd told me last night. How she'd lied. I could feel her watching me even with the pillow over my head, and I hoped she was feeling guilty. Though she never seemed to feel guilt: that was my specialty.
I gave up, rolled over and rubbed my eyes. “What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing. You slept through your alarm, and I was just coming to wake you up.”
“Uh-huh.” I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and last night's conversation came crashing back. “Okay. I'm up. Now can you please leave?”
She stood there for a moment, still watching me.
“
What?
”
“Nothing. See you downstairs.”
I got up and pulled my housecoat from the hook on my bedroom door. I usually liked the fall, but this year I hated it. So much darkness. It wasn't even light out yet. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, turning my head this way and that. I could see flashes of Mark in the angles of my jaw, the curve of my mouth, the slight tilt of my eyes. Weird. It was all so weird.
I glanced at the clock and picked up my phone to call Toni.
“Hey.”
“Dylan?”
“Yeahâ¦can you still hang out at lunch? There's some stuff I need to talk to you about.”
There was a fraction of a second's pause before Toni answered, “Sure.”
Like she's doing me a favor. I bit my lip. “You don't have to.”
“I just said yes. I'll hang out with you.” Toni sounded annoyed.
I knew I was sounding too insecure, but I couldn't stop myself. “Only if you want to. I mean, it's okay if you'd rather be withâ”