I couldn’t say a word.
All I could do was feel. And touch. And be touched.
All of me. All of him.
And as he whispered my name in the dark, our limbs tangled in the sheets, clinging to each other, it was the sweetest relief not to have to struggle to communicate.
I’d never trusted anyone more.
Maybe he was rescuing me all over again.
I just hoped I was worth the effort.
Jane Marlow:
Eddie, it’s over.
Track [24] “The Whole World”/Outkast
Fen
Everything was perfect.
Moonlight shining through the window. Jane in my arms. Her tiny hand on my chest, her body molded against my side. Nothing between us. So close, we could practically share each other’s heartbeats. Breaths. Thoughts.
If I could’ve recorded this moment in time, pressed it like grooves in vinyl, slipped it into a sleeve and shelved it away with the most valuable records in my collection, I would have done it.
I wanted to stay up all night and experience that joy—draw it out as long as I could. But then her body felt lighter on me, like a fern unfurling, and I realized with surprise that she’d fallen asleep. Another joy.
The next thing I knew, it was two in the morning by the bedside clock, and a tiny dog was snuffling my ear. “How the hell did you get in here?” I whispered. Frida obviously understood no human words whatsoever, because she took that to mean “feel free to curl up on the bed with us.” At least she was small.
The next,nextthing I knew, it was morning, and both the dog and Jane were gone.
Not gone. Just up. The toilet flushed in my bathroom, and she’d taken her clothes with her. The reason why broke through my groggy head: Frida was barking at the apartment’s front door.
“Shit,” I said.
“Literally,” Jane said, rushing out of the bathroom. “As in the dog kind. Frida’s got to go outside. And I’ve gotta get back to the lodge before they send out a search party.”
“No-o-o-o,” I whined.
She stuffed her phone in her pocket and leaned over the bed to kiss me. “Can I come back tonight?”
“You can fucking move in,” I told her. “My aunt might make you pay rent. But we’ll figure it out.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, grinning.
“I’m years ahead. We’ve got kids already. We travel the world and leave them with Ms. Makruhi. There’s cake every weekend. Frida doesnotsleep with us. My ankle is doing that pins-and-needles thing because of her,” I complained.
She laughed. “I’ll come back tonight. You can show me your record collection. Let’s start there, all right?”
It would do.
I was floating on clouds. In space. Cruising fucking galaxies. I forgot all about my father and Eddie. Mostly. Mama was upset, and I called her to make sure she was okay. But she was tough as leather, so she pretended that everything was okay.
Eddie was in my father’s hands now. And Mad Dog’s. I guess that was as good as God’s. And if it wasn’t, that was my brother’s fault for worshipping false idols.
Jane and I spent three magnificent nights together, ignoring the rest of the lake. The fourth night, Aunt Zabel invited us down to the house to eat a late dinner with her. Which was fine. Her property. She wanted to meet the girl and the tiny dog who kept showing up here and staying all night. Jane was worried, I think, about anyone finding out about us. But Aunt Zabel was cool—way more chill than Mama. I made sure Jane knew that Aunt Zabel wasn’t gossipy and wouldn’t run back to Mama with our business.
