Page 45 of Haunt Me

Isaiah: I can’t explain it. It started as just this intense infatuation, but now… I don’t know. It’s like my heart has passed into her possession.

*message deleted*

Isaiah: I’m weirded out, Mom. I mean, what is it about this girl? Every time she so much as looks in my vicinity, I go weak.

Mom: Oh, honey, it’s happening to you now when you are so young. It’s going to be painful, you know. Falling in love. I’m sorry for that.

Isaiah: Painful, you say?

Mom: You have spent your whole life becoming a person. The person you are today, and the person you will become in a few years.

Isaiah: Yeah.

Mom: And in the meantime, inside of you a mold is created. Slowly but surely, by every choice you make, every action anddecision. That mold, and who fits it, determines exactly who will be in your life. Who will stay. Who will choose you and be chosen by you. A partner, your friends… even your goals and dreams will align with who you are becoming.

Isaiah: I love the way you put it.

Mom: That’s why it’s important not to do things before you are ready, or because everyone else is doing them. Focus on who you are becoming first, and if you like that person, the rest will follow.

Isaiah: I’ll keep that in mind.

Isaiah: Wait, is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me if I’m sleeping with anyone? With her?

Mom: Of course not.

Mom: Are you?

Isaiah: MOM!

Mom: I know, I know, it’s none of my business.

Mom: Except, listen to this: It is.

Mom: Now I have to be both a mom and a dad to you, Zay.

Isaiah: You are doing fine, Mom. Better than fine. You are amazing. Now don’t make me cry.

Isaiah: I gotta go to class. Thanks, Mom.

twelve

We never talk about that day again, but after that, she doesn’t flinch whenever I touch her. So I touch her every chance I get.

The rainy days are the best. I run over in the pouring rain to see if she’s come in spite of the weather–she’s always there. I take off my coat and hold it over both our heads and we crouch under the thickest tree branches and snuggle under it as water dribbles down our faces. I press myself against her, having a good excuse tokeep my arm around her shoulders. I sometimes drop it down around her waist.

Back then I thought she didn’t notice, but I know better now. Of course she noticed, of course she did. She was always conscious about being near people, and she never wanted to be touched by anyone. But she let me.

She let me.

…

“We always hang out here in the woods,” she says one day.

I raise my eyebrows. “Risking expulsion from my school and who knows what else if your folks find out you’re sneaking out every day isn’t far enough for you?” I ask her.

She goes pale. Ok, I shouldn’t have said that—even though it’s constantly on my mind. The risk for her, I mean, not the risk for me.

“Where would you like to go?” I ask quickly, to cover my blunder.

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