“Oh shit!” Nicole spit tea and tried to catch it dribbling down her chin. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as she pawed at her face and her dress to get it off while simultaneously nearly spilling more of it as she tried not to drop the glass at the same time. “I’m so sorry, Thomas! I had no idea!”
“It’s all right,” I replied. Her messy display had lightened the mood but couldn’t completely stop the lingering memories. “It’s been a while.”
“Still…wow…I’m really sorry.” She wiped the liquid from the front of her dress. For a couple of minutes, we just stood there in an awkward silence and looked out over the balcony rail at the river beyond. My mind was going at top speed, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do in this situation. What was my part? What were my lines? Was I supposed to tell her more?
I couldn’t keep it in, and eventually some of the overflow spilled out.
“It was a car wreck,” I said. I couldn’t call it an accident. If it weren’t for me, it never would have happened, so it wasn’t a fucking accident. “I was twelve at the time.”
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
Too much.
Reaching down and grasping the railing to steady my hands, I looked out over the river. I tensed inside, trying to keep the memory from coming back—literally squeezing it out of my head until my temples began to throb.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
I swallowed past my clenched throat. I didn’t want to think about it—I didn’t want to trigger the memory—but I still wanted her to know. I didn’t know why I wanted her to know, only that I did.
“She hit a tree,” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t look at her—I just kept staring at the water and listening to it cascade over the rocks. My head was really throbbing, and the effort to keep the scenes out of my conscious mind was excruciating.
I felt a cool touch against my arm and glanced down to see Nicole’s fingers slowly running up and down my forearm. The muscles in my arm were hard and tense as I squeezed the railing, but as she touched me, my grip loosened and I started to relax. I watched her slender fingers as they brushed over the hairs on the top of my hand.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” her soft voice sang up to me. I shook my head slightly, unable to find any words. She must have misunderstood, because she pulled her hand back, running it nervously down her side.
I didn’t want her to let go of me.
I wanted her to touch me again because the pain in my head was gone, and the memories weren’t still trying to push through. I wanted to touch her to see if her skin was really as soft as it looked. I wanted to feel the coolness of her hands, still moist from the condensation of her glass in contrast to the warmth of her body.
Inside, music began to play as couples joined on the dance floor.
“Would you like to dance?” I asked her suddenly.
“Dance?” She took a step back. “Ah…I don’t dance.”
“Why not?”
“Um…I don’t know how?” Her words came out as a question.
“You don’t need to know how,” I told her. “I’ll show you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Please?” I asked as I held out my hand. I just wanted to touch her again…just for a few minutes.
“Okay,” she finally said as she placed her hand in mine. I led her out to the dance floor and placed my hand at her waist.
“Put your hand on my shoulder,” I instructed, and she complied. I took her other hand in mine, feeling the coolness of her fingers. “That’s it.”
She was tense at first, stumbling a little, but it was only a few measures before she relaxed, allowed me to lead, and really began to look stunningly graceful as I twirled her around. She smiled up at me, and then her eyes went abruptly dark.
“What’s the deal, Malone?” she asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…are you even the same guy I’ve seen at school?”
“Well…yes, obviously!” I laughed.