At First Touch (22 page)

“Well, young man, it seems I owe you my thanks, again. It was certainly a good day for us when Liz met you,” he said graciously. Carey flushed and ducked his head, flashing me a quick smile. I relaxed and glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it was nearly six o’clock.

“Anyone hungry?” I asked in a too cheerful voice. After a moment Dad and Carey mumbled various things about food and I headed to the phone and hit the speed dial for the pizza place, ordering a large supreme for delivery. Dad and Carey settled companionably in front of the TV to watch sports recaps and after changing into normal clothes, I joined them, tucking my feet up under the couch cushion and leaning against Carey’s outstretched arm. I wondered a moment at the strangely normal feeling of having his arm around me and then promptly fell asleep.

The doorbell woke me with a start and I scowled at Dad and Carey as they laughed at my startled reaction. Dad handed me a twenty out of his pocket and I stumbled to the door to get the pizza, my rumbling stomach reminding me how hungry I was.

I opened the door with a smile which quickly faltered as I saw who stood on the doorstep.

“Good evening, miss. I’m Officer Daugherty; is your father at home?” the tall, slim police officer asked genially. My stomach in knots, I waved him in and called for Dad in a slightly strained voice. He came into the foyer warily, all senses on alert even as he extended his hand and greeted the cop.

“How can we help you, officer?”  Dad asked and I saw Carey poke his head in from the other room, look startled and then come to stand by me. Daugherty looked momentarily surprised to see Carey and then gave him a small wave, returning his attention to Dad.

“Well, sir, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but there was an accident down the road with one of your daughter’s classmates; yours too, Carey,” he said with a nod at Carey. We exchanged looks and he slowly nodded. “Anyway, the boy is going to be fine, but he claimed that your daughter here caused his accident.” Daugherty eyed me steadily and I felt myself grow cold under his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see how that would be possible,” my father said coolly. The officer shifted his eyes back to Dad and shook his head.

“Well, I have to ask where your daughter was between four and four-thirty this afternoon.” Before I could formulate a response, Carey jumped in.

“She was with me, Jim,” Carey said calmly, garnering the officer’s attention. “We went for a walk and then we’ve been here, waiting for pizza.” At that precise moment the doorbell rang again, as though to corroborate Carey’s story. Dad muttered “excuse me” and went to get the pizza.

“Is this true, Miss Hannigan?” Daugherty asked me, steely grey eyes fixed on me. I gulped and nodded, my natural paranoia regarding law enforcement going into overdrive.

“Yes, sir. I don’t understand…who was in an accident?” I asked, my voice as innocent as I could make it. He gave me a skeptical look, but seemed to gain confidence from Carey’s statement.

“Well, Miss Hannigan, Preston Deene was just in a car accident. He ran his truck into a telephone pole, and he claims that he was trying to avoid you, that you ran out in the road right in front of him, causing him to swerve,” the officer said in a crisp manner. I made my eyes get huge and I glanced around at Dad and Carey as though terribly confused.

“Jim, that’s not possible. I’ve been with her this whole time. And what would she be doing running out in the road anyway?” Carey asked innocently. I was really glad I’d changed out of my grass-stained jogging outfit. “Look, Preston has this crazy idea that Liz spread some stupid rumor about him at school. He’s probably just trying to get her in trouble.”

The officer studied me for a few more moments and I grew more and more tense, preparing myself to flee if necessary. Finally he sighed and ran a hand over his brief hair.

“Well, you’re probably right, Carey. Preston had a little to drink and he might just be trying to put the blame elsewhere. I can see that there’s no way Miss Hannigan here could be responsible if she’s been with you all afternoon.” Carey nodded emphatically and Daugherty rocked back on his heels and turned for the door. “Alright then. Sorry to have troubled you all.”

I sighed quietly, relieved that the police force of Pound had such a good relationship with Carey. “Sir, is Preston going to be ok?” I asked apprehensively, as though I cared.

“He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be alright,” the officer responded kindly. He said his goodbyes and slid out the door, closing it behind him. All of us let out a collective breath and I leaned heavily against the wall. After a moment Dad fixed me with a serious look and then pressed a hand to his head like he had a migraine.

“I need a beer,” he mumbled. “Do you think you can keep out of trouble for the rest of the evening?” he asked archly.

I gave him a look of my own and answered testily, “Yes, I can, thank you. It’s not like I asked Preston to nearly smash me into a pancake with his truck.” Dad looked chagrined and then upset, which made me regret my retort.

“Sorry, hon. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re ok.” He gave me a quick peck on the head, shook Carey’s hand and thanked him again, and then shuffled toward the kitchen.

“We’d better give him some space,” I said unnecessarily to Carey. He nodded and we stood around staring at the floor for a moment. Finally I pulled myself out of my own thoughts and realized that I had a lot of questions for Carey. “Um, do you want to see my room?” I asked nervously.

He smiled crookedly and curled a loose strand of my hair around his finger. “Are you coming on to me?”

I blushed and shook my head. “I just…uh…I think we should talk,” I replied, my heart pounding frantically in response to his smile. He nodded and followed me as I led him back to my room. He glanced around at the still mostly unpacked suitcases and undecorated walls, but merely raised his eyebrows and took a seat on the bed. I hastily picked up some clothes that were lying around and stuffed them into the nearly empty closet and pulled the door shut.

Carey just sat there on my bed, looking completely edible, and the thought of sitting next to him left me paralyzed. He gave me a puzzled look and I laughed uneasily and sat on the floor, making Carey look even more confused. I realized that aside from this afternoon, I hadn’t been alone with him for weeks and I was suddenly intensely aware of his proximity, his warmth, the way his hair curled slightly at the ends. His vibrant sapphire eyes were watching me with close attention and I felt a slow heat stealing through my limbs, making my head feel light and my mouth dry.

“What is it, Liz?” Carey asked, cocking his head slightly.

I was so deeply affected by him that I wasn’t sure what to say. After another period of silence, Carey rose from the bed and lowered himself next to me on the floor. Cautiously, as though he were afraid I would cut and run, he put his fingers over my hand. He searched my eyes, his face so close to mine I could smell the peppermint on his breath, and he slowly but inevitably began to slide the glove from my unresisting hand. My mind was moving at an incredible pace and yet I felt frozen, my entire consciousness anchored on the rising color in Carey’s cheeks.

The glove slipped off, and keeping his gaze fixed on me, Carey gently placed his bare hand back over mine. Even though skin-to-skin contact didn’t bother me once I’d downloaded someone, it was still something I avoided out of habit. It felt strange and wonderful to have Carey’s skin resting against mine, and the walls between our minds melted, revealing the sweet, eager thoughts running through his mind as he moved closer.

“She’s so beautiful…will she let me…I’ve wanted to kiss her for so long. She can hear me right? Liz, Liz, Liz…I’m so crazy about you…”

I felt my eyes burn with moisture as his thoughts became more personal, telling me how he’d been wanting me from the moment we met, how he knew we had a powerful connection, how he’d never felt this way before.

I’d never felt this way before either.

With a final wary glance at my eyes, Carey closed his and touched his lips lightly against mine. They were silky and cool, and it felt as though an electric shock passed from his lips to mine. He grazed my bottom lip with his tongue and I shuddered, opening my lips slightly, trying to pull his scent, his taste, everything about him into me with a breath. He sighed slightly and thought, “
I hope I do this right,”
and surrounded me in his kiss, his first kiss…my first kiss.

I don’t know what kissing is like for other girls, but for me it was a total sensory experience. Apart from the fact that Carey was so sweet, so slow, and so gentle despite the urgency I could feel in him, I could hear his sincerity and sense his emotions, his adoration of me. I had never expected to be able to kiss anyone, and had certainly never known that it could be anything like this.

After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes bright and feverish. I don’t know what I looked like, but I must have had a similar expression because he smiled and stroked my cheek with his knuckles.

“That was my first kiss,” he said, as though he didn’t know how I would respond. I smiled a little, feeling as though I were in the midst of some crazy dream.

“Me too,” I said, wrapping his fingers in mine in an unfamiliar gesture. We sat quietly together for a while, gradually becoming more comfortable touching one another. With a sigh, I finally pulled away, feeling like I’d gone as far as I could stand for one day.

“How do you stand it?  The mind-reading thing?” he asked. I glanced up in surprise and then shrugged philosophically.

“I avoid contact. I try to keep my mind closed. It’s not always possible,” I replied shortly. Even though I knew Carey would probably understand better than most, I was uncomfortable discussing my little quirk.

“Can you, I mean…you know all about me, right?” I smiled wryly and nodded. “Well, can you tell me a little about what you’ve been through? I mean, not anything you don’t want to,” he hastily said, “or, um…well, I mean you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He meant so well, it was hard to get irritated with him.

“No, you’re right. It’s only fair that I answer some questions. I have a one-sided advantage.” I sighed and arranged myself more comfortably.  “Fire away. What do you want to know?”

Carey’s face underwent an amusing array of changes, displaying surprise, confusion, embarrassment, and finally excitement. “Ok, how did you learn to control your ability? I mean…when I finally realized what I could do, it took me a really long time to control it.” He laughed. “I used to run so fast in gym that the teacher thought I’d never moved at all and took off points for being lazy.” I smiled, picturing a young Carey trying to explain to his teacher that he simply ran too fast for him to see. 

“Well, it took me a while, but not as long as you might think. My mind sort of works like a computer, so once I figured out the…hmm, operating system?” I said hesitantly, wondering if I was being too literal with my description, but Carey simply nodded and I took encouragement. “Well, for a while I wasn’t able to control any of it; it was worst in the hospital, where nurses and doctors were constantly coming in to examine me. Sometimes I could turn off the thoughts, but only if I was really upset. Eventually I figured out when I was angry or depressed, controlling the flow between my mind and everyone else’s was easier, so I started to concentrate on those feelings without actually having to have a fit or anything and…” I trailed off, looking at my hands, remembering the unbelievable stress of those first few days when I tried to control the chaos in my head.

There was no point in telling Carey just how hard things had been; I used to lay there immobile, unable to eat or drink or do anything for myself because my mind was too crowded to listen to my body. My own thoughts were lost in the madness and I only grasped them a few times until I started to get control. I don’t really have that many coherent memories from that time, just brief flashes of lucidity, during which I tried to get hold of my mind. And I remember Dad. His face is very clear in my memory.

I realized I had been silent for a few minutes and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry Carey. There’s no easy answer for how I learned to control my ability.”

He nodded and squeezed my shoulder gently. “It’s ok. Maybe sometime later you’ll be able to talk about it.” I nodded. He paused for a beat and then asked, “What’s it like? When you, ah, download somebody? What does it feel like?”

I smiled a little and closed my eyes. “It’s a little like seeing a movie, only sped up so fast that you only get a few really comprehensible images. Everything is really bright, really loud for a second and I go numb all over then everything clears and I get my vision back. When the feeling comes back to my limbs it’s like a million little needles pricking me. You know, when your leg falls asleep? I have that all over my body for a second or two and then everything goes back to normal.”

“And your eyes? I noticed before, I guess when you downloaded me, your pupils got so big, it looked like your eyes were black. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Carey said hesitantly, as though he were afraid to offend me.

“I don’t know why they do that. There was nothing in the research I downloaded from all the physicians I touched to explain it. Of course, there was absolutely no expectation that anything like this would happen to me to begin with. I know how I became the way I am, but not why.” This was something I had puzzled over more times than I could count; why did the treatment that was used on so many other patients in a vegetative state work on me and no one else? Was it because of the electricity already contained in my body from the accident? Some freak genetic quirk? Or something else entirely that I cannot name?