4. A SIMPLE COMPLICATION

PAST

My room faced the water. When the sun came out, it bounced off the lake and cast rippling strobes of light on the ceiling.

“So pretty.” It fascinated Matilda. “Your home. Hervorragend.”

We’d spent half the night at a twenty-four hour burger joint, and the other half on the roof of my car, looking at the stars. It was nice, but now I was buzzing to go.

“I’m going for a run,” I said.

She looked at me uncomprehendingly.

“A run. You know, exercise.” I mimed.

“Ah. Ekzersize. I know best ekzersize.”

She locked her heels around my waist. She had long, strong legs and eyes that reminded me of a jungle cat—pale green, but shot with gold. It was easy to lose myself in her wild embrace. This could be The Summer of Matilda. But I’d stopped last night and I was pulling away this morning.

“No like?” she asked.

I loved the way she said ‘like’. Half-way between lick and like.

All hail The Summer of Girls With Sexy Accents.

“I like.” I kissed her.

This was every guy’s dream—a sweet, sexy, summer romp, at the end of which she’d head back home and I’d head back to college. I felt the rush of my response to her touch, her splayed-out hair, her big, wide pupils. But something didn’t feel right. And that very word—‘feel’—made me uncomfortable.

“I have to go for my run,” I said.

“Okay. I will watch light.” She went back to staring at the ceiling.

She was easygoing and sexy and cool.

I had to get my shit together.

This was not going to be The Summer of Regrets.

*****

“Hey, Bob. It's Troy. Sorry, I’m not going to make it for lunch, but I’ll be by later. No. Everything’s fine. Yeah. See you soon. Thanks.”

I’d called to make sure Ryan’s family didn’t wait for me, but they’d left the door open when I got there. There were no other cars in the driveway so I figured I’d timed it just right.

“Hello?” I called as I let myself in.

No answer.

I walked through the hallway, past the kitchen, and froze when I got to the living room.

Shayda was still here.

And she was looking out to the backyard, through the sliding door.

Why the fuck was she standing there alone? Where was her husband? Why wasn’t she out there with everyone else?

I could see Ryan and Jayne goofing around with hoses in their hands. Then Bob and Lizzie got involved and soon the whole family was running and screaming and getting soaked.

All right! A water fight.

I could do a water fight. I could walk past Shayda, totally unaffected, and join in. This time it was different. This time I was prepared for whatever weird, walloping sensation might hit me, and I was ready to punch that sucker straight back to oblivion.

She didn’t hear me walking up behind her. She was engrossed in the scene before her—all the laughing, hitting, yelling, squealing.

I was about to say something funny and silly and totally absurd. Then I caught her reflection in the glass.

You know those moments in childhood that completely floor you? Like the first time you see a dead bird or a dead squirrel and you realize that things die? You’re momentarily seized with a longing to revert back to a time when you didn’t know, a time of innocence and endless possibilities. That was the longing I saw in Shayda’s eyes as she looked out that door—open, naked, unguarded longing.

I wanted to retrace my steps, wait at the traffic light instead of flooring it to make the amber; I wanted to sleep in a little longer, dally over the phone with my parents, stop at the gas station for chewing gum—anything to go back and add a few more seconds, a few more minutes, because then I would have missed it. The look on her face.

But it was too late. Our eyes met in the reflection as I stood behind her, and the look turned to shame and humiliation. The horror of being caught with your mask down. For a while, she just stood there, like a deer that knows it’s been caught in the hunter’s cross hairs. Then she bolted.

I seized her before she could escape, pinning her against the glass, my hand over hers, so I could anchor her, keep her from getting swept away.

Hey. It’s okay.

She made a small, choking sound when I pulled her away from the sliding door. My arms went around her and her cheek found my chest. And just like that, something fell into place.

All of my wild, crazy exuberance fit perfectly in the quiet crevices of her dreams. It was as if all my life, I had been running towards this moment, this diamond sharp clarity of being and belonging, this strange, intriguing girl with her rose breath and her broken wings.

I didn’t want to feel this. I wanted Matilda and wild, summer escapades and no strings. And this could never be that. This was so many strings that I felt like a puppet. She could contort me in a million different ways.

Run, Troy, run.

But I just stood there, holding her. Because I fucking liked having her in my arms.

It was simple and as complicated as that.

*****

The sun had set, but the air was still hot and humid. Crowds of revelers had laid claim to their beach spots with picnic baskets and coolers and folding chairs.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to hustle for space here,” said Ellen. “Thanks for having us over.”

“My pleasure.” I replied. “We’d be there already if the traffic wasn’t so bad.”

“You think your car will be all right at the gas station?” asked Ryan.

“Greta said she’ll look after it.” I glanced back at Shayda. She was trailing along with Jayne.

We’d jumped apart when a loud splash brought us back to our to senses—Jayne pushing Ryan into the pool. She ran back to the house, squealing, when Ryan threatened to come after her.

“Troy!” she said, when she saw me. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I extracted myself from her ardent, puppy-love hug. “We?”

“I’m going too,” she said. “And Shayda.”

And so here I was, walking around like I was perfectly cool with it, when really I was in the ring with the twisted fuck called fate, slugging it out, one round at a time, because it wasn't fair that we kept getting thrown together. This was not how I’d planned to catch the fireworks.

“So will Matilda join us later?” asked Ryan.

“Matilda?” Jayne caught up to us. “Matilda’s not coming, is she?”

I laughed. When Jayne wanted something, she wanted something. And right now, she definitely did not want Matilda around.

“Matilda’s host family had other plans for tonight. She’s not going to make it.”

The grin on Jayne’s face. Like she’d just scored the last cookie in the cookie jar.

“It’s not going to happen,” I said.

“What’s not going to happen?”

“Whatever you’ve got spinning in that delightfully stubborn head of yours.”

“You think I’m delightful?” The grin grew wider.

She was impossible. And adorable. Like one of those wind up toys that just kept going and going.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We better hurry or we won’t make it to Troy’s in time.”

I glanced back and stopped. “Hey, where’s Shayda?”

She was nowhere in sight. Behind us, the boardwalk was teeming with obscure figures, all jumbled up in a long trail of shadows.

“Does she know where we’re heading?” I asked.

“No,” said Jayne. “I didn’t think to tell her.”

“Shit.” My eyes scanned the crowd. She could be anywhere by now.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead?” I handed Ryan my keys. “No point in all of us missing the show.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Jayne, latching on to my arm.

“You stick with Ryan and Ellen. I don’t want risk losing you too.”

“But—”

“Jayne.” Ryan tugged her away firmly. “Let’s go. You sure you don’t need help, Troy?”

“I’ll find her.” I knew I would. Somehow. I’d always find her.

Yeah, dickhead. Find her, so you can let her go. The dirty bastard I was brawling with laughed and threw me a nasty jab.

Fuck off, fate. I’d forgotten about our sparring session.

Screw you, Troy.

I parted my way through the surging mass of strangers, looking for Shayda. It wasn’t too long before I spotted her. She was wearing a cream dress in a sea of shorts and tees, getting jostled around in the crowd. She didn’t seem to mind; it was as if she was used to being invisible, used to people having no regard for her.

My blood boiled as I made my way over and spun her around.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“You found me.” She blinked, as if she couldn’t get around the fact that someone had come back for her.

“Of course.” Had no-one told this girl how extra-ordinary she was? That she mattered? That it was okay to push back instead of being pushed around?

I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowd.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

I should have said, “My place,” and headed back to meet up with the rest of the gang. But I didn’t. Because I wasn’t taking her there. I was going to test this girl’s limits, push her until she pushed back, until I broke through that damn cocoon she’d built around herself. Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with her.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Because by the end of the night, I had succeeded. On both counts. I’d poked and prodded and goaded her until she lashed out. And god, was she ever magnificent when she was angry. All that fire and pain and bottled-up angst. I might have left a dent in her shell, a small chip where we collided, but in turn she cracked me wide open.

We might have had a chance then, to do it right—a small bud of ‘perhaps’ that could have bloomed had we taken another path. But something happened that night, a discovery that shook me up as much as it did her. And it nipped whatever might have been. We were like clouds in the face of giants—little wisps of ‘maybe’ that had no business lingering over vast fields of family, and bonds, and molds that had already been set.

“Goodbye, Shayda Hijazi,” I said as the elevator doors closed on me.

“Goodbye, Troy Heathgate,” she replied.

It was a few hours that one night, but I always remembered it as The Summer I Met Shayda Hijazi.