Page 18 of Hale
“Dad will want to catch that fish,” I tell her with a smile. “I found a cool rock. Same color as your hair.”
“Nobody likes brown rocks,” she says, her freckled nose scrunching.
I grin at her and tug at her messy hair. “But look at how pretty this brown is. It’s Rylie brown. Special.”
A smile breaches her face. “You think it’s special?”
“Very special. I bet all the crayon companies will be beating down our door soon asking for your permission to use it in their box.”
Her cheeks turn pink and she giggles. “I’d make them fight over it. It would be funny.”
The wind howls and the lights flicker again, but Rylie is distracted. At least if we blow away, we’ll both be smiling. Another year and I’ll be gone off to college. Will she have to sit in the bathtub alone when Mom and Dad are at work?
As Rylie babbles about crayons, my future hits me hard in the chest. I’m about to go off into the world and leave my family behind. It’s exciting and I’m looking forward to it, but I’ll miss them. With the threat of my leaving every bit as real as the tornado warning looming over us, I feel oddly nostalgic. Like I want to hold on to this moment a little longer.
The lights flicker off for good and the howling becomes louder. Rylie is no longer distracted and buries her head against my chest. I hug her tight and kiss her hair.
“It’s okay, Ry. I promise. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let you down.”
She clings to me for what feels like hours until her sobs and terror fade away. The storms long subside and the lights come back on, but I don’t get up from the tub. And she makes no moves to get up either. I just hold her—I hold my own childhood a little while longer as my future beckons for me to grow up and become a man. Her breathing is soft and even, but she’s not asleep. It’s as though she knows I need this moment.
I’m lost in twisting a strand of her hair when I hear a sweet sigh.
“My babies.”
I dart my eyes to the doorway. Mom stands there wearing a bright smile. She’s soaked from the rain and her hair is a mess, but she’s beautiful.
“Tornado sirens,” I explain.
She nods and her smile fades. “A small one ripped through town. There were some uprooted trees and missing shingles near the shop. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”
Absently, I stroke my fingers through Rylie’s hair. “Who will sit in the bathtub with her once I go to college?”
Rylie flinches in my grip and I find myself patting her back to comfort her.
“Don’t worry about stuff like that, Huds. Just worry about getting yourself an education. Rylie’s a big girl. She’ll surprise you one day.”
I wake up to the feeling of someone watching me. In the dark. It would be alarming except I know it’s just Rylie. Her fingertips are running along my scalp through my hair. Offering me the same sort of comfort I gave her. It feels good, so I can see why she likes it. I drift in and out of sleep as she touches my head. When her fingertips skate along my jaw, I’m wide awake. She runs them along my throat to my pectoral muscle through my shirt. Then, she splays her palm there. I cover her hand with mine, letting her know I’m awake and here for her.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask, my voice raspy from sleep.
“No.”
I smile in the dark. Her sassy one-word answer reminds me of when we were kids. “You remember when I used to try to con you into making me food all the time?”
Her body stiffens. “It never worked.”
“Sometimes it did. If I was extra nice to you,” I say, amusement in my tone.
She relaxes. “You were so mean. All you had to do was say please and I would’ve done anything for you.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“Talk to me then,” I murmur. “Please.”
“I feel so alone,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
“You’re not alone, though. You have me.”
