I smile. Warmth spreads across my face. “Later,” I say.
All day, I play a tug-of-war with Edison’s attention. He kisses me, and then I leave him to check on Dara, or to talk to Jeannie, or to take water to the boys in the high school band playing up on the stage. I catch Edison’s gaze from across the sea of faces and he looks up immediately, sensing it every time. We’re connected, he and I. He knows that something pulls us together—even if he doesn’t know what it is.
The church combines its party with the community center, and while the church doesn’t bring alcohol, the community center comes supplied with their own coolers. People are milling about all around him, holding sweating bottles of beer, plastic cups of wine and drinks with crescent ice cubes. I stand on tiptoe behind him and softly ask, “Are you doing okay?” He knows what I mean.
He takes my hand and kisses it. “Yes.”
“I’m proud of you,” I say. “I really am.”
He turns to face me. His finger coils around a lock of my long dark hair just as Jeannie calls out, “Jade!” and starts waving me over. “Do you have a spare guitar pick in your car by any chance, honey?”
I run off to help her, leaving Edison with empty hands and a loaded grin. He loves Jeannie—she dotes on him like a mother. But still, I wonder if he would fantasize about killing her for interrupting our little kiss. I’m still carrying his secret, those drunken words he murmured that night. Someone out there has provoked his wrath. Awoken that darkness inside him that none of the fine, upstanding citizens of this cozy desert town would suspect.
When the sun begins to set, I stop depriving myself and go to him. He brought a beach towel for us to sit on for the fireworks show. It’s an orange-and-white Hawaiian floral print, faded and frayed from years of machine washings. Sheila sat with him on this towel. He kissed her here, and held her under dozens of burning rainbow lights.
That he would share something so meaningful and intimate is not lost on me. When he wraps an arm around me, I snuggle myself close. Fuck, he smells so good. Not a drop of cologne. Laundry detergent and summer heat are caught in the fibers of his shirt. He rests his chin on top of my head, making me feel small and protected.
Darkness falls fast. Things chirp distantly in the brush, and from here I can see the mountain where my sisters and I buried the trucker. It stands just a bit taller than the surrounding ones, sharp and jagged and black against the emerging stars.
It’s been about two weeks. The trucker is unrecognizable now; even if a search party thought to unearth him from the hiking trail, they would need dental records to find him, and his teeth are long gone. He’s in active decay, with his organs leaking out through his orifices and his skin shriveling up.
If you can hide a body for a week and a half, and if you carve out any identifying details like teeth or tattoos, it becomes mostly unrecognizable. The organs decompose and the skin discolors. Give it a month or two in this heat and you’re looking for a skeleton. I haven’tfollowed the man’s story on the news. They say his name and they show his picture, but he isn’t that thing anymore.
From her spot several rows ahead, Dara turns her head to look for me. Tim’s got an arm around her. He says something to her, but she isn’t paying attention. At last she finds me and flashes me a wicked grin, waggling her eyebrows at Edison. My ears turn hot.
The sky lights up with an explosion of color and sound, and it takes my breath away. I’m not expecting it when Edison grabs my chin and turns my head to face him. He kisses me hungrily, greedily, counter to the way I’ve teased him by keeping myself away all afternoon. My stomach flutters and flips. Tonight is the night. I wanted to wait a bit longer, but my man is all surprises. Fits and bursts of this strange passion are alive between us. We want each other so badly it’s like a rage brewing—an undercurrent—and if I don’t give in, if I let tonight end abruptly, I will never again get such a chance.
The fireworks are still thundering like ethereal drums when Edison pulls us to our feet. We take three steps before I stoop to grab the towel in my fist. It trails in the desert dirt as we sprint to Edison’s car.
He speeds through empty roads and I roll down my window to let the cool night air flood me. My skin swells with goose bumps, one hand raking through the air and the other holding his warm calloused hand. We don’t talk. We don’t have to.
The last time I was in his house, he was broken. He wanted me, but he wasn’t ready yet. This time, when we giggle and scurry up the steps, he is open. His heart laid bare. “Jade,” he growls, and the door slams shut behind us.
His dead wife sleeps forever in the albums in the fireplace. A clock ticks in the kitchen, shaped like a teacup and in need of a dusting. It’s just us, alone in this island that has materialized so quickly around us. We’re kissing as we move down the hallway, frenzied, dizzy, and thensuddenly we’re standing on the threshold of his bedroom and he draws back. Moonlight comes in through the window, painting him silver.
He’s all softness now. He brushes his knuckles against my cheek, and his eyes are full as he watches me. “Hey.”
I tilt my face into his waiting palm. “Hey.”
Edison has been with other women—Sheila at the very least. He hasn’t asked about me, but he must assume Jade has done this before. A free-spirited singer who adapts easily wherever she may roam. I’m not going to tell him that he’s my first. I may be more emotional than my sisters, but I’m less likely to act on those emotions. I’ve saved myself for the right kill. Saved myself for him.
He lets out a nervous breath of a laugh, and it only makes me want him more. I rake my fingers between his and he pins me to the doorframe for another kiss.
He lifts me up, and I let out a startled shriek as he spins me around and drops me on the bed. I’m laughing and he’s laughing when he crawls over me, our loud breathing silenced when we kiss. Buttons, zippers, collars being pulled over our heads. His stomach is warm and rock solid against mine.
His tongue grazes my earlobe and I shudder. “Jade?”
I look at his eyes, dark and heavy in the moonlight. He understands even in his fevered desire that he still is getting to know me, that I have my own cues, my own wants. I am not the other girls who have been in this bed. He seeks my eyes and I realize he’s asking my permission. In answer, I take his face in my hands. “Yes,” I rasp, a plea.
It hurts, having him inside me, but I hardly notice. His hand is on the side of my throat, thumb tracing my jaw and then my lower lip. My eyes flutter and I lose myself for a moment, drown in my happiness that he’s with me and that he’s mine. He was surrounded byalcohol and temptation all day, but he didn’t have one blessed drop, because he wanted to be here with me. Ready, unlike the last time.
To everything I’ve ever wanted, every night I’ve spent lost, every moment of my life that I’ve been in mourning, or frightened, humiliated, desperate, he is the answer. He is the thing I never had the words for. And now his presence fills an emptiness so deep within me I could never bring myself to face it before. I’m not supposed to fall in love with him, and I haven’t.Loveis not the word for this. Love is a blur, a smear of color in the distance, so far behind me now.
He calls for Jade and I pretend he’s calling my name in his rising crescendo. His prayer.
Sissy,I think.That’s my name. Call me that.
Jade had lovers. Jade had boyfriends. Experiences. But I’ve only ever had this, and one moment with Edison is more than a lifetime of Jade’s hollow lovers could give me.
