Page 20 of Let the Light Shine Through

She spins suddenly, walking over to the side of my bed before sitting on the edge of the mattress. Throwing herself backward, she stretches her arms above her head, onto the other side. To the ceiling, she asks, “Why do you keep them up?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest.

“Are they happy memories at least?”

I study my former life like Gia did, running my gaze over each and every one. My entire existence summed up in less than three minutes with a grand total of thirty-something posters. Some of them I don’t even remember. I was there for all of them, but I wasn’t always there. Time passed quicker then but still just as blurry as it does now. Just like these days, I didn’t try to appreciate it. I didn’t appreciate anything and now it’s gone. All of it. Everything.

An embarrassment I’ve never experienced before washes over me and I adjust my footing, the swishing sound filling the room.

“You rock when you’re nervous.”

Gia’s staring directly at me, so dropping my arms to my sides, I blurt, “What?” adding more irritation to my tone than necessary.

“Maybe it’s not just nerves,” Gia muses to herself before telling me, “When you’re standing still, your body kinda rocks, sways from side to side, and sometimes you even pitch forward and then backward on to the balls of your feet, like you’re dodging something.” I didn’t know that. “And whenever you look at my skateboard, your fingers flex.”

I drop my gaze. That part I did know, but I didn’t think it was noticeable to anybody else.

I guess I’m not the only one that’s been paying close attention.

“Anytime someone mentions snowboarding or the snow or even just winter, pain flashes across your face so raw, it’s hard to look at without feeling gripped by it as well.” My eyes connect with hers. “It’s like you left your heart on the slopes, but the rest of your body hasn’t figured it out yet.”

After a moment of silence I welcome with open arms, she adds, “Maybe it’s just waiting for you to change your mind.”

“I can’t,” leaves my lips like a confession. It is a confession. I can’t risk it. I can’t go back out there just to end up where Salvy is—dead with only long-forgotten, dust-collecting posters to remember me by. I want more, I just don’t know what more is. What more there could be. All I’ve ever known is snowboarding.

“Tell me about him.” Gia’s voice calls to mine, coaxing it out of its hiding place—out of the comfort zone I’ve given it these past few months—and after several swallows, I join her on the bed, lying the opposite way, then I do something I haven’t done since Salvy’s funeral—I talk about him. Openly. Without censoring what we did, how we lived, or who we were.

“Big Red?”

“He had red hair.” The reddest. It wasn’t just me that called him that either, that was his nickname in our sport. What made him easy to spot even with a helmet or hat on. You could see his flaming red hair anywhere on the mountain.

Until you couldn’t.

Until I couldn’t.

We’re both quiet for a minute, then I see her finger in the air, circling the same way she did the day at the funeral. I oblige, and she continues listening intently, her occasional questions spurring me on until I’m telling her about more than just Salvy; I’m opening up about myself, too.

“I didn’t take you for a cuddler,” she interrupts to say.

I lift my head to see her better. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“That perma-scowl of yours scares people away. Then that deep voice terrifies the ones brave enough to stick around.”

I notice my face is screwed into a scowl, so I try to relax the muscles. She’s right though. Some blogger wrote an entire piece about it once—that I look like I don’t know how to have fun. And the voice…what can I say? It’s been that way since I finished puberty.

“So, which one does that make you?”

The mattress shakes from her shrug. “Whichever one saves me from being cuddled.”

I’m on her almost instantly, making her laugh a low, throaty sound from being caught unprepared.

“I think you’d like my cuddling,” I accuse, staring down into her half-mast eyes.

Her lips fall open from her laugh, revealing the tip of her tongue—the tongue she uses like a well-aimed whip instead of a careless caress—and even though I’ve been dying to kiss her again, I hold back. I hold back with everything I got…until she arches an eyebrow in question, then I press my lips to hers in answer.

I don’t rush, more than happy to take my time exploring, but Gia growls out her impatience at my pace, fisting my shorts and tugging. Something tells me if I rush this, I’ll regret it, and if I were on my feet right now, I know I’d be rocking side to side like a fucking pendulum.

Peppering kisses down her throat, I pull back. Wild, air-dried curls fan out from her head like an homage to Medusa, except instead of turning my entire body to stone, only my lower half is affected by going rock hard at the sight.