squeaky staircase. She walked lightly on the faded golden carpet covering the steps. She had on a soft-looking pink sweater with sleeves that covered most of her hands. I forced myself not to reach and touch it, or her hair, which was shining like glass.
I was doing all right until we got to her bedroom. Her scent hit me like a battering ram the second she opened her door. It was everywhere. I was being enveloped in lavender and vanilla. It was rich and warm and so tempting. I felt like I was suffocating. I cringed and held my breath.
On a better note, I realized that it wasn’t Lyn who had made all of that mess downstairs. It was like stepping into a room of a different house. Everything was in its place except for a notebook and a textbook that lay open on her desk. There was a Calvin and Hobbes calendar hanging on the wall above it. Her pens and highlighters were all sitting in a clay cup some child probably created in his or her first pottery class. Her bed was neatly made. A single stuffed pig sat carefully on stacked pillows. She was using a homemade quilt made of greens and browns as a bedspread, and a cream-colored afghan was folded at the foot of the bed.
Lyn carried the books to her bed and sat down. She pulled a pillow behind her and leaned against the wall. I stood frozen, closed in the little room with her and my aching jaw.
“You can sit down.” She smiled and clicked her pen.
“I should get going so you can study,” I said without really opening my mouth. I could taste her on my tongue. It was sweet and warm. It was all I could do to continue standing there.
“You don’t have to. I’m good at multitasking. Besides, no matter how much I look at this, I’m never going to pass.” She stuck her pen into the crease of her textbook and shut it.
I was still holding my breath. I couldn’t face her until the smell faded from my memory. I turned to look at a corkboard covered in photographs. There were various pictures of her with people her own age. The same photo Diana had shown me was stuck in one corner, next to one of Lyn blowing out birthday candles.
The bedsprings creaked, and she came to stand next to me. “This was my going-away party before I came here,” she told me, pointing to a photo.
She was standing so close, I could feel the heat jumping off her skin. Focus, I told myself. The picture was taken at a dining room table. A balding man with oxygen on was sitting in a wheelchair. Lyn had her arms around him. Next to them was a woman who looked exactly like Diana, and a young teenage girl who was blowing a noisemaker.
“My father, mother, and sister.” She pointed to each person in turn.
“You look very close,” I managed to say.
“Well …” She paused. “I guess you could say that. I’ve always been very close to my dad. I can tolerate my mother, and you never appreciate a sibling until you don’t live together. What about you? Do you have brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any family left.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It was a long time ago.” I looked over at her from the corner of my eye. She was looking at the board with a thoughtful expression. “So what’s your test on tomorrow?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “The Civil War.”
“I thought you were going to be a nurse,” I said, surprised I had actually retained the information.
“I am. I needed more credits to get financial aid, but I should have picked something easier. I thought the class would be no problem because we learned about it in high school.” She shrugged. “But I’ve forgotten most of it.”
I smirked, feeling myself relax a little. “I believe history would be my best subject.”
“Really?” Her voice raised in excitement. “Would you mind helping me out? It’s okay if you don’t want to or if you have somewhere else to be though.” She smiled nervously and pulled on her sweater sleeve.
I didn’t know if I wanted to help or not, but I
I was doing all right until we got to her bedroom. Her scent hit me like a battering ram the second she opened her door. It was everywhere. I was being enveloped in lavender and vanilla. It was rich and warm and so tempting. I felt like I was suffocating. I cringed and held my breath.
On a better note, I realized that it wasn’t Lyn who had made all of that mess downstairs. It was like stepping into a room of a different house. Everything was in its place except for a notebook and a textbook that lay open on her desk. There was a Calvin and Hobbes calendar hanging on the wall above it. Her pens and highlighters were all sitting in a clay cup some child probably created in his or her first pottery class. Her bed was neatly made. A single stuffed pig sat carefully on stacked pillows. She was using a homemade quilt made of greens and browns as a bedspread, and a cream-colored afghan was folded at the foot of the bed.
Lyn carried the books to her bed and sat down. She pulled a pillow behind her and leaned against the wall. I stood frozen, closed in the little room with her and my aching jaw.
“You can sit down.” She smiled and clicked her pen.
“I should get going so you can study,” I said without really opening my mouth. I could taste her on my tongue. It was sweet and warm. It was all I could do to continue standing there.
“You don’t have to. I’m good at multitasking. Besides, no matter how much I look at this, I’m never going to pass.” She stuck her pen into the crease of her textbook and shut it.
I was still holding my breath. I couldn’t face her until the smell faded from my memory. I turned to look at a corkboard covered in photographs. There were various pictures of her with people her own age. The same photo Diana had shown me was stuck in one corner, next to one of Lyn blowing out birthday candles.
The bedsprings creaked, and she came to stand next to me. “This was my going-away party before I came here,” she told me, pointing to a photo.
She was standing so close, I could feel the heat jumping off her skin. Focus, I told myself. The picture was taken at a dining room table. A balding man with oxygen on was sitting in a wheelchair. Lyn had her arms around him. Next to them was a woman who looked exactly like Diana, and a young teenage girl who was blowing a noisemaker.
“My father, mother, and sister.” She pointed to each person in turn.
“You look very close,” I managed to say.
“Well …” She paused. “I guess you could say that. I’ve always been very close to my dad. I can tolerate my mother, and you never appreciate a sibling until you don’t live together. What about you? Do you have brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any family left.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It was a long time ago.” I looked over at her from the corner of my eye. She was looking at the board with a thoughtful expression. “So what’s your test on tomorrow?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “The Civil War.”
“I thought you were going to be a nurse,” I said, surprised I had actually retained the information.
“I am. I needed more credits to get financial aid, but I should have picked something easier. I thought the class would be no problem because we learned about it in high school.” She shrugged. “But I’ve forgotten most of it.”
I smirked, feeling myself relax a little. “I believe history would be my best subject.”
“Really?” Her voice raised in excitement. “Would you mind helping me out? It’s okay if you don’t want to or if you have somewhere else to be though.” She smiled nervously and pulled on her sweater sleeve.
I didn’t know if I wanted to help or not, but I
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