“Waking up to you is perfect,” he says, reaching back to put his arm around me. “So much better than the one bird band.”
Lately, I’ve been hearing strange phrases, even since my medication changed and the hallucinations stopped.
Since the night at Highfair Estate:“Sacrifice the one.” “Don’t look back.”
Dr. Fraine attributed my hallucinations to dying neurons.
Each time I hear the phrases in my head, it feels like a death knell, a bell ringing in the distance, reminding me.
Siler and I aren’t speaking.
Our last exchange over a hasty breakfast the day we left his family’s estate was tense. He wanted to know why I slept elsewhere. I countered by asking where he was half the night. Deo called it a “lover’s spat”. But we’ve never been anything but friends. Best friends.
I was his obligation. His duty.
Liz and Jen are distant. Rett is affectionate. He didn’t hold back on the ride back to Ithaca, which left Jen mopey and Liz giving me questioning looks.
Then there’s Rippley. We’ve talked on the phone, he’s asked how I’m feeling, and we’ve talked about school. He doesn’t share much about himself.
It’s safe to say things have cooled between us. When I told him about Siler’s game and asked if he wanted to join us, he was adamant about not going, uncomfortable being around JJ and I together.
I miss him. It’s clear he’s backing away from me.
JJ’s housemate stomps up the side stairs to their portion of the house. With his bedroom window open, we can hear him call out, “Your radio is blasting downstairs. The damn bird is making a racket, and I swear to God I’m going to ram that set of windchimes up your ass.”
We can’t hold in our laughter, which only makes them slam the door into their place.
The chaos here allows me a reprieve from all the thoughts that nag me.
Wrapped in a sheet, JJ lifts me up and plants a loud kiss on my head. “I bet you're hungry after last night.”
Bob Marley’sCould You Be Lovedplays on his old transistor radio while I watch him sing and dance around the kitchen,making us pancakes. Hobey lands on his shoulder, still clutching the wooden spoon.
God, I want moments like these to last.
“Is Rett joining us at the art show later?” he asks between lyrics.
“That’s okay, right?”
I worry that, like Rippley, one or both of them will pull away from me because of the strangeness of this relationship. Because of my feelings for them both.
He stops stirring the batter and walks over to me.
“We’ve talked about this. I meant what I said. I trust you. This will work if there’s full transparency.”
Rockefeller Amherst is sponsoring an art exhibit featuring works from the private collections of wealthy collectors. I’ll finally get to seeThe Divinitiespainting that JJ has described so many times. His excitement about it is rubbing off on me.
“I invited Rippley to come along,” I tell JJ.
I haven’t heard back from him, but I want him to know that I care. That our friendship... no, it was more than that. The feelings growing between us were real.
They’re still there.
“Well, you could’ve kissed the brick before throwing it directly at my face,” Rett says as he comes through the door. “I’m fairly certain Ripp hates me right now.”
“Did something happen?” I ask.
I want Rippley to come, but now I’m nervous.
