Our Song (21 page)

As the road straightened out, Nick glanced over. “Don’t worry, she can handle it.” He slapped the dashboard as if it were the side of a horse. I smiled weakly and relaxed my grip on the door. The problem was that I didn’t know if
I
could handle it. Not his erratic driving, but the secret he seemed to be hiding.

When I looked out the window, the landscape had changed. I was already getting used to this, how the city could transform so drastically from one block to the next. Gone were the fancy bars and stores. Now, almost every concrete surface was tagged in black spray paint, and in some cases, bright, colorful graffiti like the kind we saw on our way to Skid Row. Were we going back there? After a few turns, Nick pulled into an empty lot.

“What is this place?” I asked, staring up at what looked like a bombed-out building. Wooden boards covered a gaping hole where the front door should have been.

“It’s a church.”

Nick didn’t strike me as the religious type. And this didn’t strike me as much of a church. I poked my head out the window. A stone bell tower stretched high above the steeple. It was practically the only thing that seemed intact. Most of the wall facing us was boarded up too. “What happened to it?”

“There was a fire a few years ago and it’s just been sitting here since.”

He led me to the other side of the building, where there was a gap between the boards just wide enough to slide through. Inside, it was just a big, empty, cavernous space. Clearly it had already been looted. No pews or pulpits or any sign that this was a place of worship remained, except for the stained-glass windows near the ceiling. They were probably too high for anyone to reach.

It smelled damp but the air was oddly clear as we walked through. Shards of tinted moonlight filtered through the colored glass. When we reached the pulpit, there was a low archway concealed on the other side. It looked like a secret passage. Nick ducked his head and walked through.

“Where are you going?” I whispered, even though we were the only ones there.

“To the top.” He took another step and motioned for me to follow.

I crouched through the opening, where a spiral staircase coiled up from the ground. It was so narrow we had to walk up single file. I paused after my first step. The wooden stairs were so soft and damp it felt like they might collapse beneath me.

“Everything okay?” Nick was already halfway up. His voice echoed down the stairs, like a stone skipping across a lake.

“Yes,” I called up, hoping the echo would mask the hesitation in my voice. I steeled myself and kept climbing, careful not to grip the banister too hard. It was just a long, twisted nylon rope, the kind you might find on a boat. Half the hooks meant to secure it to the wall were missing, so it drooped like a wilted flower just above the stairs. One wrong tug would have me swinging like a chandelier.

“I’m sorry,” he said as I reached the top. I stepped out next to him on the wide stone balcony. “I should have asked if you were afraid of heights.”

“I’m not,” I said, realizing that wasn’t what I was afraid of. I was afraid that Nick’s heart belonged to someone else. And if it were true, that it could never belong to me.

He relaxed his shoulders. “Then come check it out.” I joined him by the concrete railing at the edge of the balcony and looked down. We towered over the city and its flickering lights. The moving cars looked so much smaller from here, like they were toys that could fit in the palm of my hand.

“This is my favorite view,” Nick said, letting out a sigh.

“I can see why.” It was so different from the flat, fixed panorama I was used to from my bedroom window, the stagnant sea of identical homes, one after the other. This view was endless and full of possibility.

My arm brushed against Nick’s as I shifted forward on my elbows. There was just a thin piece of cotton separating us, and I could practically feel his warm skin through my sleeve. It was
like the charged cackle of static electricity. We weren’t touching, but almost. Maybe it was better this way, standing on the edge, suspended in between, where you can’t get your hopes up too high or your heart broken.

The sound of hundreds of car engines rose up from the streets, morphing into a quiet roar that was oddly calming, like white noise. It reminded me of the way all the discordant sounds in my head reduced down to a soothing hiss. Looking down at the city sprawled out below, I noticed there was no particular grid or pattern. It looked more like bicycle spokes sprouting from an amorphous center. None of the spokes were the same length; some jutted out at odd angles like they were broken, but somehow they all fit together.

Nick stepped up on the railing, pressing his entire body weight against it. By now, I was used to his risky stunts. But the way he was leaning, his waistline teetering over the ledge, made it seem like this time he was deliberately tempting fate.

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

He knocked the railing with his knuckles. “Solid as a rock.”

I came closer and also leaned into the railing. There was something about the warm, sweet air and the twinkling lights below that made me feel like I could do anything.

Maybe that’s how Nick felt, too. Invincible.

I closed my eyes. It felt like I was floating, like I was being lifted up and carried away by the rising hum. Like I had experienced this feeling before.

A loose stone gave way beneath my foot. I snapped open
my eyes. For a second all I could see was the ground hundreds of feet below. Nick grabbed my arm and yanked me back as the rock plummeted to the street. He was squeezing me so hard it hurt.

“I’m so sorry.” That same mysterious flicker crossed his face again. “You were right. It isn’t safe.”

The way he said it sounded like a warning. “It was just a pebble.” I tried to meet his gaze but his hair flopped over into his eyes. “I’m okay. See?”

I twirled across the patio, my skirt billowing with the motion. It was the first time I could remember feeling genuinely feminine, and it wasn’t because of what I was wearing. It was the way I felt when I was with Nick.

“Come on, sit down over here,” Nick said, his face softening.

We settled into a spot on the ground under the cover of the clock tower, far from the railing. Leaning back against the cool stone wall, the giant brass bell gently swayed above. It felt like we were in a hot air balloon, with only the starlit sky around us.

I reached into my bag and quickly typed out a text without Nick’s seeing. His pocket vibrated the moment I hit send, and I watched his grin reappear as he read the message. “You’re welcome,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“You know, I still don’t even know your last name,” I said as the thought dawned on me. I couldn’t believe I had even waited this long to ask. That was a remnant of the old me, the one who was afraid to rock the boat or ask for anything more than what was handed to me.

“It’s Wilkins,” he said after a long pause. “Any other burning questions you want to get off your chest?”

Now that I knew his full name, there were all sorts of things I’d be able to find out online, photos I’d be able to look at for as long as I wanted. But there was one thing, one question, that had long been lurking, and I didn’t think Google could answer it. Even if it could, I wanted to hear it from him. “How did you die?”

The second the words came out of my mouth, Nick’s expression darkened. He stood abruptly and went over to the other side of the tower. “If I wanted to talk about it, I’d still be going to those pathetic meetings.”

I pulled my knees into my chest. His tone was stern and unwavering, and it made me wish I could take the question back. What was worse was watching him disappear, even while he was still standing right in front of me. Because it meant that our connection was gone too, that the invisible tether that linked us had been severed. And that’s when all my fears flooded back, filling the gap. My fear that I couldn’t compete with the world of mystery and adventure that he was used to, that I was just a boring suburban girl with no real life experience. And above all, my fear that getting closer to Nick would eventually break my heart all over again.

“Shhh.” Nick pressed his finger to his lips and tilted his head back. “Can you see them?”

“See who?” I asked, looking up into the cavern of the dark tower.

Nick was back. The edge and distance in his voice were gone and I felt my whole body relax, every cell release a collective sigh of
relief. I realized I couldn’t really blame Nick for his reaction. I wouldn’t talk about my accident with anyone either—not even him. It wasn’t just the question of how I died that I wanted to avoid, but all the things that brought me to that point. I wanted to apologize, to let him know that I understood, but I feared I’d already said too much. It was enough to recognize that he was also haunted, that there was something unresolved about his experience too. And maybe most importantly, that he wasn’t put off by my pain, like everyone else in my life. The least I could do was let him be.

“Take another look.” He was still whispering.

I craned my neck up again. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, a smile spread across my face. At least a dozen green parrots were perched on a branch of a nearby tree that jutted through a gaping hole in the tower.

“They’re sleeping,” he said.

They were so still, they almost seemed fake. “What are they doing here? They look like lost pets.”

“Some of them probably were, originally. Legend has it they escaped a fire at a pet shop a few decades back. Or that smugglers from Mexico released them into the sky when they got caught crossing the border.”

“Which one do you believe?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” he said, staring up into the tower. “They’re wild now.” It reinforced the fact that it didn’t matter where we had been before. What mattered was how it had changed us, how it had brought us together, and what happened next.

Hints of the birds’ green feathers reflected off the bell’s
dulled brass surface. A smaller parrot was perched just a few feet above our heads on a protruding stone ledge.

“He looks so young,” I said, taking in his majestic red beak. His tiny heart was beating so fast I could see it thumping in his chest. “Look at his heart. Do you think he’s having a nightmare?”

Nick shook his head. “Their hearts just beat much faster than ours. Especially the chicks’. Almost five hundred beats a minute.” How did he know so much about everything? It seemed to come to him naturally. Not like Derek, who worked hard to be a know-it-all. “Most animals end up having the same number of heartbeats throughout their lifetimes. When all is said and done.”

“How many?”

“About a billion, give or take.”

I stared up at the small parrot, its bright green feathers fluttering with every breath. I wondered how many beats he had left. “And what about humans, how many heartbeats are we supposed to have?”

“Many more. Around three billion.” His voice lowered. “In an ideal world.”

I brushed my arm across my chest. It was pounding as fast as the bird’s. Did Nick and I die because our hearts were speeding out of control? And did coming back mean the count started over from zero again? I started to wonder how you really measured a life. “Maybe time doesn’t even matter,” I said. “Maybe it’s what you do with that time.”

Nick sat up and leaned forward on his knees. Beneath the stubble, which was growing into a beard, and his feathery bangs,
which hung almost to his nose, I saw something open up in his face. It was as if he wanted me to see it.

“I…” Nick started to say something but stopped.

My breath caught, suspended by the silence, waiting for him to tell me whatever it was he’d been holding back. Was he finally ready to confide in me?

“The parrots aren’t always here,” he finally said, regaining his voice. He sat up against the wall. “They migrate north every spring and find enclaves all around the city like this one before moving on. They only just recently came back.”

“Oh yeah?” I let out a deep sigh. I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed that he changed his mind. Or both. “When?”

“The same night I met you. This is where I came when I left the meeting. It’s…” His voice trailed off, like he was finishing the thought in his head.

I had the urge to lean in closer, to touch him, when my shoulder began to strain under the weight of my messenger bag. If it hadn’t, I didn’t know what I would have done. “Don’t move.”

I took out the camera and began to unscrew the lens cap when Nick snatched it from me.

“Here, let me have a go.” The way he said things, with his sexy accent and his funny English expressions, made my insides turn to liquid. “Quick, don’t smile.”

He turned the camera around and extended his arm so he could snap a picture of us. There was a clicking sound as the roll started to automatically wind back to the beginning. “Is this actual film?”

I nodded. “Black and white.”

“Like a true artist. I’m not surprised.”

I shrugged and looked up at the parrots again. I had never thought of myself that way, as an artist. Before, I would have been embarrassed or felt like a fraud. But when I was with Nick I felt like I could be or do anything.

“Do I ever get to see these?” he asked, handing me back the camera.

Before I had a chance to answer, the clock struck eleven. The bell clanged overhead, awakening the sleeping flock of parrots. They took flight through the tower’s vaulted archways. The rapid fluttering of their wings was just like the flapping I’d been hearing in my head since the accident. Only now it didn’t sound remotely terrifying. It sounded otherworldly.

Their red beaks let out what sounded like a distress call, a discordant, screaming cacophony, as if they were at war with the swaggering hunk of brass. But as they dispersed into the open sky, their squawks became less urgent, blending into a harmonious song they belted out in unison. With their bright green wings, they glided through the clouds as one, singing at a pitch I’d never heard before.

Nick leaned in so that our arms were touching. A sizzling sensation shot through me, taking hold of my entire body. It started in my fingers, spreading up my arms, across my chest, and down my legs, to the very tips of my toes. It reminded me of the way I felt the first time I saw him. Struck by lightning.