Adaptation (22 page)

They were gerbera daisies—orange and fuchsia and purple—and even though Reese had already glimpsed them from her bedroom window, seeing Amber hold them out to her sent a
warm glow through her. “Nobody’s ever brought me flowers before,” Reese said. She was pretty sure there was a goofy smile on her face.

Amber leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m happy to be the first.”

She followed Reese into the kitchen, where Reese took down a vase for the flowers and filled it with water. “How come you’re covered with paint?” Amber asked.

Reese glanced down at herself, faintly surprised to see yellow and red smeared all over her shirt. “Crap,” she muttered. “I’ve been painting.”

“Obviously,” Amber said, laughing. “
What
have you been painting?”

“My room.”

“Really? Can I see?”

Reese hesitated, arranging the flowers in the water. “It’s not finished yet. And it’s kind of weird.”

Amber came behind her, sliding her arms around Reese’s waist. “I promise I’ll like it.”

Reese turned to face her. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teased her.

“No,” Amber said, shaking her head seriously. “Only to you.”

Heat flared in Reese’s belly. The light from the kitchen window drew out darker flecks in Amber’s gray eyes so that they looked like granite, solid and steady. “Okay,” Reese said. “I’ll show you.”

When they entered Reese’s bedroom, Amber gasped. The paint was still wet, and the red drips that streaked down the wall ended in gleaming little droplets. Amber’s mouth parted slightly,
and a shadow seemed to pass over her face, as if she were seeing something that struck a nerve in her. She turned to look at Reese, who was standing in the doorway with the vase full of daisies.

“You painted this?” Amber said, her voice hushed.

“Yes. I told you it’s weird.”

But Amber said, “It makes me think of rebirth.”

Reese’s heartbeat quickened. “Rebirth?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you come up with that?” Reese entered the room and put the vase on her desk.

“I don’t know; it’s just a feeling I get. It’s intense.” She took out her phone. “Do you mind if I take a picture?”

“No, why?”

“I think it’s really cool.”

“Oh.” Reese was flattered, and the phone’s camera clicked.

“Have you ever painted before? Like, art stuff?”

“No. Not outside of school.”

“You said you weren’t finished. What else are you going to do?”

“I’m going to put plastic wrap over part of it.” Hearing the words out loud made Reese realize how odd they sounded.

Amber gave her a quizzical look. “That’s an interesting decorating idea.”

Reese shook her head. “It’s not… decorating.”

“What do you mean?”

Before she could stop herself, she was explaining the whole thing. “I had this dream—I keep having this dream over and over again. I see this yellow room with these bleeding walls, and… this morning I woke up and knew that I had to paint it. I
actually got the idea after seeing the bathroom in the club last night.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yeah. It was all blue. It reminded me of the dream. Except, of course, the colors are different. I know this sounds totally bizarre.” She wondered if she had made Amber think she was crazy.

“No, it’s really interesting,” Amber assured her. “Do you have a lot of dreams like this?”

“No. Just this one.”

“When did you start having this dream?”

“After the accident,” Reese said, and then stopped. There was something in Amber’s face—an excitement—that Reese didn’t understand. But as soon as she noticed the odd expression, it was gone.

“The one that damaged your suitcase?”

“Yeah.”

Amber gave her a concerned look. “What happened in the accident? Was it really bad?”

“Yeah.” Reese sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what else to say. She couldn’t tell Amber the whole truth, not only because of the nondisclosure agreement, but because it would sound insane. And she didn’t want Amber to think she was crazy. “It was bad,” she finally said. “I had internal injuries, and I was in the hospital for a while.”

“But you’re better now?”

“Yeah,” Reese said, even though she wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

“Good.” Amber sat down beside her, and the bulletin board slid over to knock against her.

“Sorry.” Reese reached over to move it out of the way.

The loose photos that had fallen off earlier fluttered onto the bedspread. Amber picked them up to look. “Oh my God, is this you?” she asked, examining the Marin County Fair photo. “You’re so cute—and so surly.”

“Hey, I was thirteen,” Reese said, taking it from her. “Give me a break.”

Amber still held the photo of Reese and David, and she looked from the picture to Reese. “Who’s this? You two look cozy.”

Reese reached for the photo, but Amber wouldn’t let go. “Give it back to me,” Reese said.

Amber quirked an eyebrow at her. “Who is this guy?”

“My debate partner.”

“He looks like more than that.”

“He does not.”

“Look at the way his arm is around you,” Amber insisted. “And you’re practically draped all over him.”

“We were just happy because we won that day.”

“Sure you were,” Amber teased her.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Reese objected, ruffled.

“It’s fine with me if you still like boys. It’s a free country.” Amber held out the photo. “As long as you still like me.”

There was more than flirtation in Amber’s expression; there was challenge. Warmth rippled through Reese. She took the picture and threw it on her desk before she pushed Amber back onto the bed. “I still like you,” Reese said, and kissed her.

Like every time, time melted away. A minute could have passed, or an hour. There was only Amber: her mouth and the
movement of her body against her own. Reese felt as if she could kiss her forever, and she would never grow tired of it.

Someone coughed.

Reese knew that cough.

She scrambled away from Amber, who was lying stretched out on the bed, her shirt hiked up to reveal her bare stomach. Reese looked up, and her mouth went dry. Her mother was standing in the open doorway. “Hi, Reese,” her mom said.

She pulled down her own shirt. “Hi, Mom.”

Amber sat up, her face turning white. “Shit,” she said, and then her hands flew to cover her mouth.

Reese’s mom broke out into laughter. “I just wanted to let you know I’m home, since you didn’t seem to notice.” Reese turned red. “I’ll be downstairs. Come down and say hi when you’ve collected yourselves.”

Reese’s hands were clammy as she entered the living
room, Amber in tow. Her mom was sitting on the couch, pretending to read a newspaper, but when she saw them she dropped the paper onto the coffee table. “Hi there,” her mom said as if they hadn’t already greeted one another upstairs.

“Hi, Mom. This is Amber.”

Cat stood up, extending her hand. “Hello, Amber. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Amber stepped forward and shook her hand. “Hi, Mrs.—Mrs.—”

“Cat. Please, call me Cat. I’m nobody’s Mrs. anymore.”

Amber smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“I’m really sorry, but I have to get home,” Amber said. “My
mom’s in town for a few days, and I’m supposed to meet her for dinner. I, um, lost track of time.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime, Amber.”

Amber seemed surprised. “Uh, thanks, Mrs.—um, Cat.” She began to head for the front door and added, “It was great to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

Reese rolled her eyes at her mom. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and followed Amber down the hall.

Out on the front steps, Amber whispered, “I hope she doesn’t hate me!”

“She doesn’t.”

Amber looked skeptical. “If you say so. Will you call me later and tell me what she says?”

“Yes.”

Amber went down the steps toward the sidewalk, waving. Reese closed the door, took a deep breath, and returned to the living room.

Her mom had a mischievous look on her face. “She’s cute.”

Reese stared at her. This was definitely not the reaction she had expected.

She grinned at Reese’s expression. “What? I grew up in San Francisco. You don’t think I’ve ever kissed a girl?”

Reese’s mouth dropped open.

“So,” her mom continued, “is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh my God,” Reese muttered. She sat in the armchair and dropped her head into her hands so that she wouldn’t have to look at her mom.

“Well, is she?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“I’ve only known her for a week.”

“That’s all? You looked like you knew each other pretty well.”

Reese felt like her face was on fire. She heard the couch creak as her mom shifted over and laid a hand on her knee.

“You know I love you no matter who you fall in love with,” she said gently.

The word
love
made Reese cringe. “You make it sound so serious.”

“Well, isn’t it?”

Reese stared at the edge of the coffee table, unable to look at her mother.

“Are you sleeping together?”

“Jesus Christ—”

“The lord isn’t going to help you with this, honey. Are you using protection?”

Reese’s head snapped up. “Mom, even if we were sleeping together, which we’re not, she’s a
girl
. What are you talking about? I’m not going to get pregnant.”

Her mom frowned. “There are still STDs you can get from having sex with a woman. If you’re having sex, we need to talk about—”

“We’re not having sex,” Reese interrupted, completely mortified to be having this discussion with her mother.

“Not yet.”

“Oh my God, can we
not
have this conversation?”

Her mom raised her hands. “All right, all right. I just want to make sure you’re being safe, honey.”

“I’m fine,” Reese insisted.

Tears sprang to her mom’s eyes and she reached out to cup Reese’s face in her hand. “You know you can tell me anything, honey. You don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

Reese was astonished. “I’m not—” And then she realized what her mother meant. “Mom, I didn’t know myself. I didn’t know until I met Amber. I haven’t been keeping it a secret from you. It’s still new to me.”

Her mom’s lips trembled. “Come here,” she said, and Reese moved onto the couch and into her arms. She heard her mom’s heartbeat beneath her ear, pulsing in the same rhythm as her own.

And then a door seemed to open between them, and she could do more than merely hear it. She sensed her mom’s heart beating from the inside. She breathed the air drawn into her mom’s lungs. She experienced the movement of the muscles in her mom’s hands as she stroked Reese’s hair. Beneath it all was a deep sense of protectiveness that was anchored so firmly in her mother’s physical being that Reese couldn’t miss it if she tried.

Her mom said, “I love you, honey,” and Reese recognized, then, that it was love she was feeling. She wanted to sink into it, soft and warm and cocoonlike. It was astonishing and comforting and completely, strangely, familiar. Of course, she had been in her mother’s body before. She didn’t remember it consciously, but it was there, a muscle memory long buried, now recalled the same way she would never forget how to ride a bike. There was nothing frightening about it because she
knew
that her mother loved her. There was no reason to be afraid of this connection that was open between them.

She said, “I love you too, Mom,” and she meant the words with every fiber of her being.

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom said, as if she heard something different in the tone of Reese’s voice. She drew back a little, and the connection between them stretched thin.

Reese gasped as the space between them widened. Tears slid out of her eyes.

“It’ll be all right,” her mom said. She reached for the tissues. Now they were almost completely separated.

Reese wiped her tears away, unexpectedly chilled. Her mom rubbed a hand over her back, but it wasn’t enough to bring back that sense of being completely surrounded and supported by her. Reese took a shallow breath, wanting to go back to that feeling but also exhausted by the aftermath. It was a little like being hung over. As she glanced at her mom, she realized that her mom hadn’t experienced any of it. She looked the same as ever, although her eyebrows were drawn together in concern.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” her mom asked.

The question forced Reese to gather her thoughts together. She scooted over on the couch to toss the tissue in the wastebasket in the corner of the living room, and her mom’s hand fell away from her back. It was like a spiderweb breaking, the strands floating in the air for one long moment before blowing away.

She felt her body settling into itself again. Her blood, her bones, her breath. Her skin containing it all.

What the hell had happened at the hospital in Nevada?
She didn’t think those experiences with David and at the club were hallucinations anymore. They were like previews of what had just happened with her mom.

“Reese?”

She shook her head, focusing on her mom sitting nearby. They had been discussing Amber. “I’m just—it’s a lot, you know, to deal with. I didn’t exactly plan to, um, come out to you like that.”

Her mom smiled gently. “I’m glad I know.”

“Me too.”

“Now why don’t you tell me why you’ve painted a gigantic red-and-yellow mural on your bedroom wall without asking my permission first?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “I just had this dream and I really wanted to see it in three dimensions. I’ve been thinking about it for days and I had to paint it.”

Her mother leaned back, crossing her arms. “You had to paint it on your bedroom wall? I would have bought you a canvas, you know.”

“I had to do it. I don’t know how to explain it.” Reese tried to figure out how to put the compulsion she had felt into words. “I’ve been having this dream ever since I got back. I kept seeing these colors in my head, and I had to see them in reality. I think it has something to do with what happened to me after the accident.” All of a sudden she remembered the tiny device she had found stuck inside the electrical outlet. She stood up. “Mom, I have to show you something.”