Imaginary Lines (17 page)

He shrugged, looking perfectly content. “Are you going to stop being friends with me now?”

I considered that. As it turned out, I really
liked
Abe. I didn’t want to lose him all over again. “No.”

“And if I do this—” He leaned forward and slowly brushed my hair away from my face, giving me ample time to move. When I didn’t, he pressed a slow, hot kiss to my lips. Heat inflamed my entire body and curled my toes. “—...Are you going to punch me?”

My breath came quick and my heart was out of control again. “I suppose not,” I said grudgingly.

He leaned back, satisfaction clear in the smile curving his lips. “Then, fine. We’re not dating. But we’re not
not
dating. We’re at an impasse.”

I let out a huff of air. “I’m still looking for a nice, baggage-free boy to have a relationship with.”

He didn’t look away from me, and the desire and determination in his gaze was overwhelming. “Just
try
to fall in love with someone else while I’m around.”

The heat that shivered through me made think I might take flight. “That’s not fair. I want to fall in love with someone who’s also falling in love with me.”

He eyes danced. “I know everyone thinks of me as laid-back and easygoing, but I can be just as stubborn as you when I want something.”

“And what?” I said hotly. “You want it to be impossible for me to be happy without you?”

His smile widened. “Sounds about right.”

My mouth fell open, and it took a few moments to summon words. “Mule-headed!”

His brows lifted. “What?”

“It’s beyond mere stubbornness and into horse-donkey hybrid territory.”

His lips twitched and then his eyes flickered slightly, like he was recalling something from the back of his memory. The words rumbled out of him, slow, measured, memorized. “‘You make me laugh and you are so smart and brilliant and gorgeous and every time I look at you I can feel it in my chest’.”

Chills ran down my back. “You remember that?”

His eyes were hot and dark. “You were the first person to ever tell me she loved me. That’s not the kind of thing you forget.”

“I was nineteen.”

He leaned toward me. “You meant it.”

Warm shivers ran though me, and I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

He smiled. For the first time in my life I absolutely could not read him. “What are you thinking?”

He shook his head. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.” He stood, and then braced one arm on the wall beside me so he could lean down close enough that his breath kissed my cheek. “See you later, Tammy.”

He walked out of my apartment, and I let go. Then I clutched my pillow to my chest and fell back on my bed, certain nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter Thirteen

I fell in love with Abraham Kramer when I was twelve years old.

I’d never been to California before, but when my mother’s college roommate invited our family for her son’s bar mitzvah, Mom leaped at the chance. Most of this had to do with the old roommate’s husband, who worked at an expanding start-up in the same field as my dad. Especially given that Dad had been out of work for eight months, and Mom’s librarian salary wasn’t exactly thrilling.

It felt like a thousand people came to the ceremony. At our own synagogue back in Illinois, I knew each of the hundred members, but we didn’t have this kind of population density, or this kind of popularity. I sat between my mom and an older lady who smelled like heather, and watched the boy who walked onstage.

Even then, he had wide shoulders and stood taller than most kids our age. His floppy hair kept falling into dark eyes that tilted downward at the corners. He had a strong, confident voice, like he wasn’t nervous at all, and if his voice cracked or if he stuttered I never heard it. I thought, as I watched and listened, that I’d never come across anyone as attractive as this bar mitzvah in his suit and tie, with the contagious smile and open face. Not even Brandon Miller, and he was openly acknowledged as the hottest boy in the seventh grade.

At the party, I sat at a round table with the children of the Krasners’ other family friends. Some of them had met before, at breakfasts or other mitzvahs, but they were strangers to me and I focused on my food. I resisted eating the colorful fondant flower that came on my piece of cake; I knew from past experience that it would turn my mouth and tongue magenta.

I kept sneaking glances at Abe’s table, clearly filled with his best friends—loud boys in black ties and girls in pretty dresses and pierced ears. I wished I’d worn something better than the blue pastel dress I’d bought for the seventh/eighth grade semi-formal. I’d picked it because I’d liked the color, even though it was two sizes too big, but now I realized that the extra fabric just made me look silly and childish.

As soon as dessert finished, I slipped back to Mom’s side. She had to push me out onto the dance floor, where all the other kids milled about as the DJ played Top 40 songs. I lingered at the edge, still and uncomfortable, and hoped the next game announced would be something easy and solitary, like Hula-hooping. I was a champ Hula-hooper; I’d already won two contests this year, and gone home once with inflatable shoes and the next time won oversized sunglasses with star-shaped lenses.

The DJ slowed the music and leaned into the mike. “Time for Coke and Pepsi!”

My heart sank. The game required a partner. Two parallel lines formed, and when the announcer called out a beverage, players pulled different stunts. The slowest pair was eliminated each round. I doubted anyone would pick the shy unknown girl to partner up with, so I started to back away.

“Don’t you want to play?”

I stopped as I nearly backed into Abe’s mom, who smiled down at me. Unlike Abe, she was small and dark—his height and hair color must have come from his dad. Or maybe they were recessive traits. We’d just learned about that last quarter. Our science teacher had paired us up in duos, and given us an activity to see what traits our children would inherit. I flashed on trying that experiment with Abe, and quickly ducked my head, flustered. “I don’t have a partner.”

“That’s not a problem.” Mrs. Kramer lifted an arm. “Abraham! Why don’t you come partner with Tamar?”

My belly spiraled into my toes. No way would Abe want to pair up with me when he probably had a crush on one of those pretty girls. Cheeks even hotter, I risked a glance.

And to my astonishment, he came toward us with a smile.

Mrs. Krasner smiled kindly. “This is my son, Abraham. This is Tamar Rosenfeld, the daughter of one of my best friends from college.” She gave me a small push forward.

Abraham caught my hand.

My heart cavorted about my chest like a frantic bird, and my eyes widened into saucers.

He grinned at me. “Hi.”

I cleared my throat. “Hi.”

We stood in silence for a moment as his mom wandered back to the adults, and I scrambled for something, anything to say that wouldn’t make me sound like an idiot.

“You know how to play?” He tugged me gently after him, straight through the crowd of other twelve—and thirteen-year-olds until we stood in the place of honor at the front of the line. I was peripherally aware of some of the glances, but I was almost solely consumed by Abraham.

“I’m not really sporty,” I confessed rapidly as we faced off and the DJ started going over the rules.

“Don’t worry,” he said, at ease and comforting. “We got this.”

And we did.

Of course, that might have had something to do with Abe being the bar mitzvah boy, but it didn’t matter to me.

“Coke!” the DJ yelled, and Abe and all the kids in his line dropped to their knees, I bolted across the floor, competitive spirit rising with my determination not to be last. I skidded the final foot and dropped down onto Abraham’s thigh, clutching at his shoulders with both hands to keep steady. I looked about frantically, hoping I hadn’t been the slowest.

I hadn’t. Down the row, one girl scowled at her partner as the DJ declared them out. Delighted, I grinned widely at Abe, and he returned it.

That first time I sat on his bent knee I thought my heart would burst out of my chest. When he sat on mine, I burst into giggles, and he joined in with a shout of laughter. Soon we were both sprinting back and forth and I didn’t even care when I slipped and fell.

At the end, the DJ crowned us with green-and-purple jester hats made out of felt, and I hugged Abe impulsively—possibly the first impulsive hug of my life. He returned it, and in that moment I felt my heart slip out of my chest.

* * *

I spent the afternoon in a daze, reliving Abraham’s visit in intense, memorable detail. I could feel the press of his body against mine, the intimacy of his lips, the caress of his hands. I could recall the way he made me feel, the way I felt even now with only memories to subsist on—and even the memories, ghosts of reality, were more arousing then any of my other experiences.

I took myself over to Prospect Park for a long walk, despite the unnaturally freezing temperatures. I wrapped my scarf tightly around my chin and mouth. Each breath I let out seemed to condense and freeze on the purple yarn, and I could hardly feel my nose. My eyes watered as the icy air tore at them.

The films had lied about the northeastern wind. It carried no friendliness, no playful attitude as it tugged on my scarves and my hat. The wind carried no personality, no charm, but rather brutally assaulted me as I struggled through the trees. Implacable. Unyielding. It stung my cheeks with ice-cold gales, pressing against my lungs until I couldn’t gather the air to cough. The leaves that I had seen dance in Hollywood movies like animated fairies come to life were instead powered by relentless cyclones.

When I reentered my apartment, I once again found all three roommates in the living room. I grabbed a glass of water and tossed my purse into my room. “Hey, guys.”

Lucy stated the obvious with little provocation. “That was fucking Abe Krasner.” Her voice lowered with conviction. “You’re
fucking
Abe Krasner.”

I was not ready, in any shape or form, to deal with this. “No, I’m not.” I smiled to cover my embarrassment. Because it could have been true. “He’s just an old family friend.”

Lucy arched an unconvinced brow. “A friend you’d like to fuck?”

Sabeen jabbed her. “Leave her alone. She’s over him.”

I puffed out my cheeks. “Yeah...”

They all stared at me.

I flopped down on the sofa. “I don’t really know what’s going on. He suggested dating.”

“Well,” Lucy said practically. “Maybe you’ll get him out of your system.”

I covered my eyes. “I’m not sure that’s possible. I think he’s part of my system.”

Lucy’s voice was crisp with decisiveness. “You just have to meet someone else.”

“Mm. Yes. Though meeting someone else is more sound in theory than in practice.”

Lucy bounced in her seat. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve decided we should have a dinner party. Two weeks. November twelfth. Put it in your calendars.”

Sabeen nodded. “And I’m going out tonight, if any of you want to come.”

We all did. Sabeen’s friends—those same friends who’d had the rooftop party—were glad to see us.

I left early, because I had work the next day. But even though I was lying in my bed before midnight, it took much longer to finally fall asleep.

I dug my hands through my hair, wanting to rip strands from my head, to rend and wail. What the hell was I doing? Why was I doing this? I was making myself miserable. I wanted Abe so desperately. I wanted everything he promised. I wanted him to hold me, to laugh with me, to tell stories and kiss me and love me, and I wanted to do the same for him.

But what could I do? Did I say yes, to hell with it, dive into the romance he promised? Maybe it would work out in the end.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to be balanced. I wanted to be normal and happy and not madly in love with the same boy I’d been madly in love with since I was twelve.

I wanted Abraham. Was that so much to ask?

* * *

The next day, I arrived at the stadium fully aware I’d see Abe. I decided I just couldn’t think about it until it happened, and so I waved my press badge and entered the box. Mduduzi and Jin were already there, and so I dropped down beside them. Tanya was out of state for a few days, so we all got to feel extra-special in her absence. Though, honestly, that only meant I planned to head into work half an hour later than usual for the next few days.

Mduduzi offered me a cookie, and I took one happily. “How’s your weekend going?”

“God, who even knows. How’s yours?”

He raised his brows. “That sounds interesting.”

I gnawed my lip.

Mduduzi leaned closer. “Come on, you can tell us.”

I snorted. “I’m not convinced you guys can keep a secret.”

Jin gave one of his slouchy shrugs. “I can keep a secret.”

I was going to wear my lips out with all this chewing. “It’s boy trouble.”

“Oh-ho!” Mduduzi threw an amused look at Jin, who grinned quietly. “Boy trouble.”

“And that is all you’ll get out of me,” I said firmly. “How were your weekends?”

After the game, we ran after some of the players for different stories. No one wanted to talk about the injuries, so I decided to try another tack. After all, Tanya had recently approved my idea to do a piece on player superstitions.

“Hey.” I ran to catch up with TJ. “Hey, TJ, tell me about your pregame rituals.”

He didn’t stop walking. “Sure thing, babe.”

Weirdly, being called “babe” by a massive linebacker didn’t raise my hackles, but instead made me feel like I was part of a show, and I slipped into the role with ease. “Aw, come on, TJ. You must do something special every Sunday.”

He flashed bright teeth at me. “I do something special every Sunday
night
. You wanna find out what?”

“You fall asleep like a baby and sleep until the next day’s team meeting. I hear Keith and Garza slap each other’s faces.”

He snorted. “Laugh themselves silly.”

“And is it true they do this?”

I must have worn him down, because he paused. “Yeah.”