I heard his laugh like it was my own voice, felt his hands like they'd never left, saw his eyes, the way they'd adored me, as if they were a permanent stain in my memory.
But they weren't.
All of it had faded, and it was my fault.
When the tub was full, I turned the faucet until the water ceased, and then I sank into it slowly. The tub was wide and deep, exactly how I'd always wanted - one that could cover every inch of me. My neck and head were the only things exposed, and I leaned back against the porcelain, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before they closed.
At first I thought of nothing, other than how good the hot water felt as it warmed me. It was nice, to exist in a blissful moment of warmth inside such a dark night that had left me so cold. But once my body adjusted to the warmth, my brain slowly sputtered back to life.
I thought of Cameron again, but that only ignited that zing inside my chest, so I pushed those thoughts away quickly. Nothing stuck for too long before I was moving on to the next thing - my lesson plans, what I wanted to do in the garden that weekend, what I needed to get started on for Mom's fundraiser.
And somehow, before I knew it even happened, I was thinking about Reese.
Thoughts of him hit me quickly, and once they did, I was surprised I'd thought of him at all. Then again, I was also surprised it'd taken me this long. Something had shifted in me that night, standing at the fence that used to separate our homes. Reese was a bird landing softly in the rough seas of my life, seemingly out of place yet so confident and calm in his landing that it only made sense he belonged.
I'd smiled so much in one evening, truly smiled, that my cheeks ached.
And I'd also cried in his arms.
When his family was killed, I'd barely even told Cameron. It was after our own loss, and I wasn't sure how he would handle me grieving over another one. So, I'd cried for Mallory alone, longed to reach out to Reese, knowing there was nothing I could say to make any of it better.
I knew, because there were no words that could heal a loss like that. There was only time, and time didn't rush for anyone.
It almost hurt more that Reese didn't hold anything against me, that he didn't fault me for not reaching out to him. I hadn't kept in touch with Mallory even before her death. I'd felt slighted by her leaving Mount Lebanon. She was two years older than me, and it was the only time in our friendship that I ever saw that as an issue. She was leaving, so was Reese, and I had to stay to finish high school without my two best friends.
It wasn't until I'd met Cameron that I ever opened up to anyone else again.
I'd started crying in Reese's arms thinking about Mallory, about his parents, but somewhere along the way I'd began crying for something else. It was something I couldn't quite put my finger on - not until I was alone.
It was then that I finally realized it. Part of me was just crying at the way it felt to be held.
I'd almost forgotten.
The way his arms had wrapped around me, the comfort they'd brought, and the way his eyes had found mine when he pulled away - it had all left me breathless.
Reese wasn't the same boy who'd left town fourteen years ago. He was older now, his hair longer, his chest wider, the muscles in his arms more pronounced. Still, just being around him brought me back to the sixteen-year-old girl I once was, to a time when the world only seemed like infinite possibility and joy to be discovered.
///
Before the water turned cold, I reached one hand between my tense thighs to relieve the ache there. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I found what I'd been so desperate for that evening.
So, I worked myself to a release, thinking of Cameron the entire time. I replayed our kiss, imagined what it would have felt like to have his hands on my body again, thought of how warm his muscles had been under my wandering hands.
Just before I came, another man snapped into my thoughts for one single second. It was just a flash, one that sent me spiraling, and when my orgasm faded and my breaths evened out, the image disappeared and guilt seeped in to take its place.
I flushed, hands running back through my wet hair as I shook my head in disbelief.
It's just the alcohol, I assured myself. I couldn't even be sure if I'd really imagined him at all, the impression fading quickly like sand washed by the sea. I stared at the smooth shoreline of my mind and willed it to show me something, anything, but it was tired - and so was I.
My eyes traveled up to the ceiling, and I kept them there, wondering who I was. Wondering if I was even anyone at all anymore.
Then I sank down farther and farther, holding my breath just as the hot water covered my nose. I let it wash away my sin like it'd never even happened.
Reese
The following Wednesday, I leaned up against the door frame of Charlie's classroom. I let my aide take our kids down to lunch a little early so I could walk down to the kindergarten wing. I hadn't seen Charlie since Friday night, and when I finally did, I smiled.
She was bent down beside one of the small round tables where a group of four kids sat. Three of them were girls, all who were talking to each other as they dropped various objects into the little tub of water in front of them. They'd converse together, scream out sink or float, and then giggle in delight as they found out which it was.
But Charlie wasn't tuned into them. Instead, she was talking softly with the boy at the table, one with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was looking at a book of bugs, and Charlie pointed to each one, reading the description next to it as the little boy traced the pictures with his fingertips. He looked up at her from time to time, his little eyes wide and curious, and she smiled down at him with the same adoration.
As I watched her, I realized how much I'd missed her.
It had been a long, boring first weekend in Mount Lebanon. I met up with a few old friends in town on both Saturday and Sunday, all of whom I quickly discovered I'd grown apart from. I was so over the forced conversation and awkward looks of sympathy by the time Monday rolled around, all I wanted was to see the one familiar face that still actually felt familiar.
But Charlie hadn't shown up for lunch on Monday, and I was disappointed by her absence on Tuesday, too.
Maybe she was just busy, but something told me there was a reason she was avoiding that café.
After a few moments, Charlie glanced at the watch on her hand and stood, smoothing her hands over her white skirt. "Okay, everyone. It's time for lunch. Line up single file by Miss Robin."
I laughed as they all jumped up, hurrying to find their places in line. Robin made sure she had them all in order before she held up one finger to her lips. They all mimicked her, stifling laughter, and then I swung out from the door frame to allow them to pass by. A few of them giggled when I made faces as they passed, which earned them a stern look from Miss Robin. I chuckled, and once they'd gone, I turned back to Charlie.
She was humming a slow tune, her back turned to me as she tidied up the tables. I couldn't help but study her for a while. She seemed tired, her dark eyes tinged with a bit of sadness that matched the tone of the song she sang. Somewhere inside that thirty-year-old woman, there was a sixteen-year-old girl. I'd seen a hint of her Friday night. She was still there, but she was hiding.
I just didn't know why.
"You know, you're not supposed to have favorites," I said with a gentle rap of my knuckles on the door frame.
Charlie jumped a little, pressing a hand to her chest with a small smile once she realized it was me.
"What's his story?" I asked, nodding toward the table where the little boy had been sitting.
She shook her head, gathering a handful of colored pencils and dropping them into the box on the middle of the table. "I don't have favorites," she argued with a shrug. "Jeremiah just learns a little slower than the others, he needs a little more one-on-one attention."
"What you mean to say is he's one of the few who isn't a complete brat?"
She smirked then, casting me a sideways glance as she pushed a chair in. "You're a brat."
///
"I've been called worse."
"I'm sure." She laughed, pulling a stray strand of hair up that had fallen at the nape of her neck. She tucked it back into place with a bobby pin. "Did you need something?"
"Just a lunch buddy," I replied hopefully. "I know you were only forced into one week of lunch dates with me, but I've been pretty lonely this week. The other teachers said I smell."
"Well, they aren't wrong, are they?"
"Smelly teachers need love, too." That earned me another smile, which I'd come to cherish from Charlie, so I took a few steps closer, sliding my hands inside my pockets. "Besides, I have something for you."