In Memory (20 page)

Ruth considered me for a moment, and then walked up to me. “Your hair dear, can we put it up somehow?”

We ended up pulling my hair, (including my fringe) all up in a high ponytail. It felt a bit
odd,
I usually have my ponytail much lower than that. Oh well, the ladies seemed to be satisfied with it.

We started with sitting poses, which was a lot better for me because it’s easier to pretend I’m not fully naked. They had a soft lounger couch set up that I was to sit on. The bright yellow of the blanket that I brought clashed horribly with the faded red of the lounger, although I hardly think that was an issue for them.

It was a bit odd sitting the
re as they all stared at me. A
ctually zoned out for most of it, thinking about things tot
ally unrelated to my nudity. T
hought about dinner, and how I suspected we were out of tomatoes for spaghetti tonight.

T
hought about my journal, and school and the English essay that’s due next week sometime.

It was actually pretty comfortable.

We moved on to an hour pose where I was to recline.

A
ctually fell asleep. Having to remain still like that is really relaxing actually, and had a real soporific effect on me. Luckily, I woke up myself, when one of the ladies moved her easel.

There’s this heat lamp beside the lounger to keep me from freezing to death that makes me really sleepy.

The session ended
at 7
:15, and Ruth gave me a ride home, which was nice, because I needed to be home before Terra, or she might ask where I was.

I’m not terribly keen on telling her I was naked for
three
hours to earn money for us to eat supper.

She might be cool with me being gay, but I don’t know how cool she’d be with that. So let’s just leave that alone for now.

R
eally
am
a terrible brother sometimes, keeping all these secrets from her.

Even my small gifts and my cooking can’t make up for my lies of omission to her.

D
id finish that dress today, after supper I decided to work on it. It’s pretty nice, I
gotta
say, the red and white look good.

Gonna
give it to her tomorrow so she can wear it to the party on Saturday.

91 Days, 28 November, Friday

Terra w
as delighted with the dress. D
on’t think I’ve seen her so happy to receive something. She went out almost immediately after I gave it to her to buy some shoes to match it.

She said I didn’t have to accompany her, because she didn’t want to emasculate me.

As if making a sundress is any less emasculating.

Noah and I agreed to meet at the grocery store tomorrow, because I needed to make a small dish to bring to the Christmas party.

Actually, the reason the party is so early this year is because the ladies in charge of organizing it every year are heading to some warm tropical locale for the holidays, and no one else wanted to organize it, so it’s really early this year.

It’s kind of weird how things work out.

And they’re already pressuring us about studying for our Diploma exams in January.

I’m of two minds about this.

Why bother studying for those exams, because I’d rather spend my time doing things I like in my remaining three months than study for subjects I dislike.

However, if I don’t end up dying (like I’m hoping), if I don’t do well on my exams, I could mess up my graduation, and therefore mess up my future. Not to mention, I’ve always tried my best in school, and Terra might wonder why I decided to slack off in my last year.

So I guess it’s decided then, I have to do well on those exams.
Bleah
. I’ll just be glad when Math is over. I don’t really care about the stupid subject either way.

K
now I’ll do well on my English
though. It’s just an essay. W
rite almost an essay every day in here, it won’t be a problem.

90 Days, 29 November, Saturday

It’s been a long day.

Where do I begin?

W
ill start with the beginning of the day, when I went to the grocery store, and then tell the whole day from there, I guess.

M
et Noah at the entrance.
He was wearing the coat I gave him, which made him really easy to spot. It was really windy, but he was waiting for me outside, his black hair being tossed around in thick strips of ebony.

R
eally enjoy the intensity of the black. It’s a lot different from the familiar light orange of my own hair.

R
eprimanded him a little for standing in the cold wind without wearing a toque.

“I apologise, I do not have one in my possession.”

“What did you wear last winter then?”

“I wore my clothing, and made sure to wear sweaters often.”

S
hook my head, and led him into the store, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. “Well, let’s get in here where it’s warm, ok?”

He nodded, and I
could feel him lean into me. L
oved that feeling, of him wanting to be closer to me.

We reluctantly let go upon entering the main area of the store, and I grabbed one of the green shopping baskets.

As we walked up and down the aisles, I noticed he was looking around cautiously.

“What’s up?” I asked, turning around.

“I thought I saw… my father when we first entered.”

S
wallowed, suddenly feeling intensely scared; he must have been projecting that fear as he spoke. “Are you sure? Would he be angry to see you here?”

He nodded, shrinking back against the aisle. “Please just be aware, I will follow behind you.”

This information made shopping feel like some impossible secret agent mis
sion. W
as tense the entire time, anticipating some hu
ge showdown with his father. E
nvisioned us standing at either end of the baking aisle, and then someone yelling “Draw!” and us firing from the hip like old cowboys.

T
hink I need to lay off the cartoons for a while.

The whole darting from aisle to aisle seemed to work, until I crashed into someone who wasn’t expecting a teenager to come bursting out of the aisle like a super spy.

D
ropped my basket (thank goodness I hadn’t gotten the eggs yet), and th
e man dropped his few items. F
el
l back on the floor, and he stum
bled back a few steps, out of sight for a moment.

Noah was gone, instantly.
W
onder where he went.
Maybe the sudden collision scared him off.

The man approached me, smiling gently, “Gee, I’m really sorry!” he exclaimed, bending down and offering me a hand up.

“Ah, no it was my fault for going so quickly!” I answered hastily, grabbing his hand and standing up.

“Wow, an Irishman even! I must be having terrible luck today.” He smiled amiably, and I smiled back, even though that terrible fear still thrummed my
heart-strings
.

We crouched down, and began collecting our items, and I took that moment to really study him.

His face was slender and
handsome,
his hair was caramel brown, and cropped short so that the front stuck up. He was taller than me, and I could tell from the way he composed himself that he must be relatively fit.
His suit was crisp and pressed and fit him well.
When we stood up with both of our items sorted out, he smiled again.

The way his eyes crinkled at the edges reminded me of someone.

“Be careful, hey? You could get hurt running into things like that!”

“Yeah, the same to yourself…” I answered after a moment.

He carried on down the aisle, after clapping me on the shoulder genially.

S
hook my head, reorganizing the objects in the basket, (The bread had been
smooshed
by the canned peaches. Darn it.) Then I began wondering where Noah had
gotten to.

W
andered down a few more aisles, picking a few things off the shelves, always keeping a sharp eye out for him. As I exited the cereal aisle, I saw that man at the checkout. He smiled at me again, and waved, which I returned.

It took at least another ten minutes after I was finished finding all my items to find Noah. He was hiding in the frozen food aisle. Seriously hiding. There’s a small alcove between the freezers and the shelf holding the bulk groceries, and he had somehow squeezed himself in there, and was hiding.

He even had a bo
x on his head as a disguise. W
ould have thought it was hilarious if I wasn’t so worried.

L
ooked at him, placing my basket on the ground, and removed the box. He looked up, horrified, and then his expression changed as he saw it was
me
.

“What’s wrong? What are you doing?” I asked, pushing the box onto the nearby shelf.

“I apologise.
I nearly was caught by my father
. I thought it best to find a safe place to hide until I was sure he was gone.”

“What- wait, do you mean-?”

“That man you crashed into, yes. That was
him
. I am sorry I ran away and left you with him.”

“But he seemed so- are you sure?”

“I am positive. He is a very likeable man, and generally he gets along with many people. I told you before that I am the only person he has any ill regard for. I am not surprised you found him amiable.”

“But-” I stopped as I realised it.
That crinkle
at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. It reminded me of the way that Noah’s eyes would go when he smiled.

This thought horrified me.

That dream, that awful dream where I witnessed Noah being beaten within an inch of his life, his assailant was that man. His father, this outwardly pleasant person, was the one to nearly kill his own son.

S
wallowed, and reached my hand out to Noah.
He took it slowly, and I could feel him trembling as he stood up and shuffled out from the small alcove.

“He’s gone now, I watched him go.” I said, still holding his hand.

He looked thoroughly relieved to hear that, and sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair.

“I am sorry to involve you in any of this. It is never my intention, but fate seems to have other plans.”

“I don’t have much truck with fate and her plans. I’m the type who likes to defy it.”

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled up on the sides, just like his father’s did.

We went to the checkout, and left the store quickly, both of us eager to find the sanctuary of my house.

He was silent as he helped me make a peach pie, and carried out my instructions perfectly.

“You know, I think you would be really good at cooking if you worked at it!” I smiled encouragingly, touching him gently on the shoulder.

He seemed to come out of his silent stupor at my touch, turning to me and smiling. He was holding a bowl of peach glaze, stirring it slowly. There was a tiny dusting of flour across his one cheek, which he hadn’t bothered to clean off in his fervour for cooking.

Just the way he looked at that moment, I wanted to kiss him so badly.

A
pproached him, and gently brushed the flour off his cheek with my thumb, allowing my o
ther fingers to stro
ke his sharp
jawline
.

Then he looked me in the eyes and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him gently. The bowl hit me in the stomach as I made to draw closer, making me break off the kiss and step back a moment.

Before I realised it, he had dipped his finger in the glaze, and placed it on my lips, which immediately prompted me to
lick it off. P
recisely remember feeling the tiny bumps of his fingerprint against my tongue and the way it sent shivers up and down my back.

(Holy cow, that was the sexiest thing ever, oh my
effing
golly gee whiz
wo
ho
hohoh
.)

“Is it sweet enough?” He asked.
I was mesmerized by the movement of his lips
.

“Y-yeah…” I mumbled. I then excused myself to go and calm myself down, lest he see how sexually excited I was getting.

It’s
moments like that I wonder if he knows precisely what every touch he gives me does to me.

Hauu
.

It didn’t get any less exciting as the day progressed either.