"They're my mother's files. The university just released them from thearchives."
When I'm done, I sit on the couch while he wanders around my apartment, my knees weak from everything that's happened since thisafternoon.
He moves to my desk eyeing the pile of books and papers, pushing them around, stooping to my wastebasket – the letter… I've been writing a letter to include in a birthday card to my best friend Cecile, who's off in Philadelphia to do her MD. I've handwritten them and crunched up one after another draft, unhappy with theresults.
"Those are my private things," I say,alarmed.
"Iknow."
"Leave them alone." I try to sound forceful, which is ridiculous, given who and what he is, but I don't want him to read anything too personal. He rustles through the letters in my wastebasket and pulls out the one ontop.
"Don't," I say, dreading the thought that he'll read my uncensored remarks. "That'sprivate."
"Dear sweet Eve," he says with his soft almost-imperceptible French accent, "I've already been in your mind. This," he says and holds up the letter, "this is nothing incomparison."
He reads it, and I close my eyes, grimacing in embarrassment at what I've written. I go to him and snatch it out of his hands and go back to the couch, reading it over to see which version he'sread.
DearCeci,
Happy Birthday, girl! I miss you so much and wish you were here or I was there so we could go out and dress all up and pretend we're the geek versions of Carrie and Charlotte and drink those crazy cocktails you love somuch!
What's new with me? I finally have my mother's research – after three years of fighting. Looks like some interesting stuff in her archives. Should keep me busy allsummer.
In answer to your question, I really hate blind dates, so thanks but no thanks. You know I have a weakness for men in uniforms but I'm afraid of flying so dating an airline pilot? Not such a goodidea…
Don't worry about me living by myself now that you're in Philly. I really don't mind being alone. Much. Not really much at all. Hardly. Barely lonely. Really… I'm sleeping well enough. Besides, it's time for nightmares to stop. I'm a big girl now so no more being afraid of the dark. After I check all the closets at night and triple lock the door and windows, I'm fine… Honest, I will get rid of my old Barney doll – some year! He's twenty now and time for the back of my closet. Where he can protect me from themonsters…
Yes, I have been seeing my counselor about the cutting. She says I have to keep my mind busy so hopefully I'll find something in my mother's files to occupy my summer. It's just that I'm so bored sometimes I cut myself just to know that I'm alive. She says the cutting stops the memories. She wants to do this whole regression stuff but it scares me. Some things are better leftforgotten.
Really, Ceci. Don't worry. I know you're afraid I'll end up a crazy cat lady dying alone in my apartment, no one noticing until the meowing of my cats drives the neighbors crazy and the police break down the door to find my rotting bloated corpse . . . But I'm sure things will eventually get better for me. I'm so happy the university finally released mom's files. It makes me feel closer to her to carry on herwork.
Happy twenty-secondbirthday and I will come to Philly and see yousoon,
Love,Eve
Oh,damn.
Then, I feel him on the couch next to me, and I try to cover my face, but he takes one arm and pushes up my sleeve. He sees the scars running up the inside of my forearm – some old, silvery ghosts of past pain, some new and still angry and red, barely scabbed over. Razor blades are my weapon ofchoice.
I freeze, my body tensing. He runs his fingers over thescars.
"I didn't see these," he says quietly and looks in my eyes. "Eve…"
He takes the letter from me and pushes me down on the couch, lying on top of me. He holds the letter in one hand, and with the other, he turns my chin so I have to watch him reading it, his blue eyes sointense.
After reading for a moment, he stops and shakes hishead.
"You're so bored sometimes you cut yourself just know that you'realive?"
I close my eyes, but he shakes my chin and I open them again, my vision suddenly blurry. And then he leans down and kisses me. Softly, the kiss chaste, and I feel him trying to enter my mind, as if he's hoping to find out why I'm a cutter but there's nothing to find except a big black hole of fear. When he pulls away, he examines my face, touches my cheek with a finger, running the tip through my tears once more, licking his finger and closing hiseyes.
"I can't see why you need pain when I read you," he says. "It must be verydeep."
I turn my face away. I don't know why I need the pain. It must be because of mymother.
Finally, he gets up and takes the letter back to my desk, smoothing it out, leaving it on top of the pile rather than in my wastebasket. I sit up and feel as if I need a drink of something strong for his touch and the feel of his body lying on top of me have made me uncomfortably aroused. He's still standing there, staring at my things and I'm sitting here, wondering what it would be like to have sex with avampire.
There – I'm now officially a traitor and all it took was onemeeting.