Alan took Marci back to his bedroom, the winter bedroom that was no more than a niche in the hot-spring cavern, a pile of rags and a sleeping bag for a bed. It had always been enough for him, but now he was ashamed of it. He took the flashlight from Marci and let it wind down, so that they were sitting in darkness.“Your parents—” she said, then broke off.“It’s complicated.”“Are they dead?”He reached out in the dark and took her hand.“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “I can lie, and you’ll probably think I’m telling the truth. Or I can tell the truth, and you’ll think that I’m lying.”She squeezed his hand. Despite the sweaty heat of the cave, her fingers were cold as ice. He covered her hand with his free hand and rubbed at her cold fingers.“Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “I’ll believe you.”So he did, in mutters and whispers. He didn’t have the words to explain it all, didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but he tried. How he knew his father’s moods. How he felt his mother’s love.After keeping this secret all his life, it felt incredible to be letting it out. His heart thudded in his chest, and his shoulders felt progressively lighter, until he thought he might rise up off his bedding and fly around the cave.If it hadn’t been dark, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it. It was the dark, and the faint lunar glow of Marci’s face that showed no expression that let him open up and spill out all the secrets. Her fingers squeezed tighter and tighter, and now he felt like singing and dancing, because surely between the two of them, they could find a book in the library or maybe an article in the microfilm cabinets that wouldreallyexplain it to him.He wound down. “No one else knows this,” he said. “No one except you.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cold lips. She sat rigid and unmoving as he kissed her.“Marci?”“Alan,” she breathed. Her fingers went slack. She pulled her hand free.Suddenly Alan was cold, too. The scant inches between them felt like an unbridgeable gap.“You think I’m lying,” he said, staring out into the cave.“I don’t know—”“It’s okay,” he said. “I can help you get home now, all right?”She folded her hands on her lap and nodded miserably.On the way out of the cave, Eddie-Freddie-Georgie tottered over, still holding his car. He held it out to her mutely. She knelt down solemnly and took it from him, then patted him on the head. “Merry Christmas, kiddo,” she said. He hugged her leg, and she laughed a little and bent to pick him up. She couldn’t. He was too heavy. She let go of him and nervously pried his arms from around her thigh.Alan took her down the path to the side road that led into town. The moonlight shone on the white snow, making the world glow bluish. They stood by the roadside for a long and awkward moment.“Good night, Alan,” she said, and turned and started trudging home.
Alan took Marci back to his bedroom, the winter bedroom that was no more than a niche in the hot-spring cavern, a pile of rags and a sleeping bag for a bed. It had always been enough for him, but now he was ashamed of it. He took the flashlight from Marci and let it wind down, so that they were sitting in darkness.
“Your parents—” she said, then broke off.
“It’s complicated.”
“Are they dead?”
He reached out in the dark and took her hand.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “I can lie, and you’ll probably think I’m telling the truth. Or I can tell the truth, and you’ll think that I’m lying.”
She squeezed his hand. Despite the sweaty heat of the cave, her fingers were cold as ice. He covered her hand with his free hand and rubbed at her cold fingers.
“Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “I’ll believe you.”
So he did, in mutters and whispers. He didn’t have the words to explain it all, didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but he tried. How he knew his father’s moods. How he felt his mother’s love.
After keeping this secret all his life, it felt incredible to be letting it out. His heart thudded in his chest, and his shoulders felt progressively lighter, until he thought he might rise up off his bedding and fly around the cave.
If it hadn’t been dark, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it. It was the dark, and the faint lunar glow of Marci’s face that showed no expression that let him open up and spill out all the secrets. Her fingers squeezed tighter and tighter, and now he felt like singing and dancing, because surely between the two of them, they could find a book in the library or maybe an article in the microfilm cabinets that wouldreallyexplain it to him.
He wound down. “No one else knows this,” he said. “No one except you.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cold lips. She sat rigid and unmoving as he kissed her.
“Marci?”
“Alan,” she breathed. Her fingers went slack. She pulled her hand free.
Suddenly Alan was cold, too. The scant inches between them felt like an unbridgeable gap.
“You think I’m lying,” he said, staring out into the cave.
“I don’t know—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I can help you get home now, all right?”
She folded her hands on her lap and nodded miserably.
On the way out of the cave, Eddie-Freddie-Georgie tottered over, still holding his car. He held it out to her mutely. She knelt down solemnly and took it from him, then patted him on the head. “Merry Christmas, kiddo,” she said. He hugged her leg, and she laughed a little and bent to pick him up. She couldn’t. He was too heavy. She let go of him and nervously pried his arms from around her thigh.
Alan took her down the path to the side road that led into town. The moonlight shone on the white snow, making the world glow bluish. They stood by the roadside for a long and awkward moment.
“Good night, Alan,” she said, and turned and started trudging home.