“Okay, I’ll see you at home then,” Melaniesaid.
Lucy hugged her, but when the bathroom dooropened, she all but shoved Melanie away to rush inside. Melanietried not to laugh as the door slammed shut.
She turned away and walked over to where Kylewaited by the staircase. They made their way downstairs and out thefront door. Free of the clamor of the house, Melanie inhaled a deepbreath of fresh air. It was a beautiful summer night with a clearsky full of twinkling stars.
It was the kind of night that made her feelalmost normal, as did the man walking by her side. She had toresist the urge to laugh while skipping down the street. It was thekind of night that promised endless possibilities.
However, she managed to avoid turning herselfinto a skipping spectacle that probably would have sent Kylescurrying for safety. Instead, excitement flowed through her veinsas they strolled toward her apartment.
Occasionally, their arms would brush eachother, and each time they did, she experienced a small rush likeshe got when she spun in circles as a child. That was about theextent of her excitement as a kid.
She didn’t go to fairs or amusement parks,and Santa only came to visit a couple of times before her fatherforgot he existed. At first, she was heartbroken. She’d alwaysstrove to be so good when Christmas approached. Santa was the onebright spot in her year. Her father always forgot her birthday, butin those early years, Santa still came.
Then, one year, he didn’t. She neversuspected it wasn’t because Santa couldn’t make it into thefacility. He’d already done that, and if he could squeeze downchimneys, he could work an elevator.
She spent that entire week sobbing anduncertain what she did wrong. Her father never noticed. Lucy toldher the jolly old man was a hack and not worth her tears, but shecouldn’t stop them. She simply couldn’t understand why Santa hadforsaken her too.
It wasn’t until she was twelve and saw onsome TV show Santa wasn’t real that she realized he hadn’tabandoned her. For some reason, it didn’t make things better. Santadidn’t abandon her, but her father did.
Trying to take some of her attention awayfrom her memories, Melanie studied the houses lining the street andthe trees spaced out along the sidewalk. When they turned thecorner, light spilled from the windows of restaurants and bars.People strolled the sidewalk and stood outside the doorways smokingcigarettes and laughing. Cars traveled the road and idled at redlights.
The noise of the city made her smile. “I loveit here.”
“Are you from Boston?”
Melanie kicked herself for saying anything,but the idle thought had popped out before she could squash it. Ifshe were a normal girl, who was enjoying a normal night with anextremelygood-looking guy, such a comment would have beencommon, as would his follow-up question.
However, she was anything but normal, and shewasconstantlyreminded of it. There was no way she couldtell him she was from a place as different from the city as the sunfrom the moon.
“No,” she said.
Kyle didn’t miss the abrupt tone of her voiceor the way the smile she’d worn since leaving the party vanished.She skirted a group of girls who were walking down the sidewalk armin arm.
He tried to think of something that would gether to open up to him. He wanted to learn more about her, but hecouldn’t risk pushing her away. And that was exactly what hisquestions did.
Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets andtried to hide his growing frustration. He’d waited this long to getclose to her; he would continue to be patient. Eventually, shewould open up to him; he just had to take it slow.
He had no idea what had made her so closedoff and distrustful, but he would earn her trust and get her toopen up to him. Until then, he would follow her lead and not pushher.
They turned another corner and walked halfwaydown the street before she stopped in front of a three-story rowhouse and turned to face him.
“This is where I live,” she said.
He glanced at the faded yellow building withits black shutters. Flowers overflowed the window boxes on thefirst floor, and perennials spilled across the brick walkwayleading to a small, gray porch. The lights on the first floor wereon, but the top two floors were dark.
“I should go in,” she said.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
Melanie hesitated as she considered herreply. Almost every part of her was screamingyes, yes, yes!But that ever-reasonable, almost always apprehensive part wasshouting a big oldNO!
She was excited to see him again, but gettinginvolved with anyone was such a bad idea.
Seeing him again doesn’t mean you’re gettinginvolved with him! It’s just seeing him again; it’s notmarriage.
Though she told herself this, if she saw himagain, she’d want to keep seeing him. She bit her bottom lip as herattention shifted to the house with its petunias overflowing thewindow planters and the solid wood front door.
She’d lived here for years, and in all thattime, she’d done nothing more than say hi to her neighbors, andmost of the time, they all ignored each other. After three years inthe city, if she decided to leave tomorrow, no one would everremember her with any kind of fondness.
