Chapter 11: Skylar

My sister and I had been separated from each other for far too long. Our first moment alone together came on Christmas Day, after presents had been opened, the turkey eaten, and the dishes washed and put away. We sat outside on the patio, for it was warm that year, although cold enough that we needed blankets wrapped tightly around our shoulders. We were each protected in our own cocoon, sitting on the rickety wooden chairs as the tea lights Mom had strung through the trellis cast a faint glow over Jo Beth’s face.

“So, where are you going to college?” Jo Beth asked. She’d spent all of dinner regaling us with stories of her travels: the villages she’d visited, the mountains she’d climbed, and the people she’d met. But once we were outside she immediately switched her focus to me.

“I’ve applied to Brown, Penn, and, of course, Cornell.” I shrugged. “We’ll see. I probably don’t have enough extracurriculars. The only thing I’ve ever really done is ski team.” I was trying to sound nonchalant, as if taking such a tone would make me feel less freaked.

“You should apply to Vista College. As, like, a back-up.”

“They’ve already recruited me.” Vista College is located at the base of the widest mountain in Colorado and has a very successful Nordic team in the USCSA. If I went there, my commute would be non-existent and I could ski all I want. Plus, they were offering me a scholarship. “But I want to get out of Colorado, to the East Coast. I need somewhere with a strong English Lit program. Vista College is for people who want to study sports therapy.”

Jo Beth nodded. To her credit, she didn’t try to convince me that I was crazy pursuing a major with no future, while giving up on what could be a decent skiing career.

“What about Gavin? Won’t you miss him?”

I looked down at my blanket-covered lap, so I didn’t have to meet her eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“That’s not what Gavin thinks. He stared at you all through dinner.”

“No, he didn’t.” Actually, I’d barely noticed Gavin throughout dinner and I hadn’t thought Jo Beth had either. It wasn’t until dessert time, when Gavin’s pecan pie was presented, that Jo Beth even spoke to him. “Does this have pistachios?” she’d asked.

“What?” Gavin’s cheeks turned a baby-blanket pink. “No. Of course not. Just pecans.”

Jo Beth pressed further. “What about coconut milk?”

“No. Only condensed milk,” he replied.

She nodded, satisfied, and took a piece of pie.

“Jo Beth’s allergic to pistachios and coconut milk,” I’d whispered to Gavin.

Now Jo Beth giggled and it dawned on me how much I had missed that sound. “He did stare at you and you should cut him a break. Say you’ll be his girlfriend, Sky.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward toward the mass of stars twinkling brightly in the crisp, mountain night. “I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend,” I replied. “And you’re the one who convinced me not to trust men.”

“But Gavin is innocuous and he’s not bad looking. You could do a lot worse.”

I didn’t think too hard about why Jo Beth suddenly encouraged me to have a boyfriend, instead I thought of the Dorothy Parker anthology I’d been reading. Dorothy would have told me not to trust Gavin; she’d have said not to trust anyone who swore his love because vows of passion are inevitably lies. Not that Gavin had ever made a move, but I could sense that he was gearing up for one. Through the sliding glass door I could see him standing at our kitchen counter, bent over what I assumed was his recipe notebook. Earlier he and Mom had been discussing a new apple sage torte and I assumed he was now jotting down ideas. He carried that recipe notebook with him everywhere, as if a sudden baking emergency might happen and he needed to be prepared.

“You should go inside,” Jo Beth continued. “Talk to him. Make him happy.”

“I’d rather talk to you. You’re not here for very long and we need to catch up.”

Jo Beth rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand, closing her eyes while doing so. “Sky, to be honest, I have a killer headache and I could use some alone time. But I’ll still be here tomorrow and we can spend the day together. I promise.”

Her voice sounded pained, so I pushed away the stab of hurt caused by her dismissal. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

She opened her eyes slightly and squinted at me. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to sit here for a few minutes and then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay.”

Jo Beth leaned back in her chair and reclosed her eyes, and I knew that was my cue to leave. I got up, slid the door open, and walked back into the bright warmth of my parent’s house. The smell of turkey and bread pudding still clung to the air. When Gavin heard me come in he looked up. Our eyes met and he smiled.

“Back so soon?” he asked. “I figured you and your sister would be talking for hours.”

“She’s not feeling well.” I sat on a stool by the kitchen counter and gazed down at Gavin’s notebook. “What are you writing? A recipe for that apple torte?”

He nodded and reached back to scratch the base of his neck. “I was thinking the sauce could be a caramel reduction and we could toast cheese and sprinkle that on top.”

“Sounds delicious, but how can you even think about food right now? Aren’t you stuffed from dinner?”

Gavin flicked his floppy brown bangs out of his blue eyes. “When I think about food it’s not usually about eating. It’s just, I don’t know, about aesthetics. Does that sound stupid?”

“No. It sounds generous.”

He laughed. Gavin’s laugh always seemed to come from the pit of his stomach. It was one of the things I liked best about him. “How is it generous?”

“Because you’re thinking about food for other people and not for yourself.” I let my right index finger stray across the counter, so it brushed the taut skin over one of Gavin’s knuckles. His hand was warm, like a conduit, and it made heat travel through my body. It was the first time I’d voluntarily touched him and I guess that was all the encouragement he needed. Gavin put down his pencil, closed his notebook, walked around to my side of the counter, took my hand, and gently tugged. I slid off the stool and put my feet against the floor.

He looked at me with such intensity that I stopped breathing for a second. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“Kiss me or don’t kiss me, but don’t ask my permission.”

I was expecting a gentle, tentative, messy sort of kiss, with too much saliva or an overly aggressive tongue. I’d never actually been kissed before, but I’d heard girls on the ski team talk, so I had some idea of how bad kissing could be. But Gavin used a confident strength to pull me toward him, and when we embraced, suddenly he was Heathcliff and I was Cathy. We were standing on the moors, hearts beating wildly in our chests.

Before I knew it, the kiss was over, and I was left with a tingly dizziness. “Your parents are watching TV in the basement,” he said calmly, like nothing momentous had just occurred. “They said to join them if we want to.”

“Do we want to?”

He shook his head no and then silently led me to the guest bedroom. My parents had issued a standing invitation for Gavin to use it any time, but I doubted that this was what they had in mind. Yet I followed willingly and let him close the door and take me in his arms. Then we were kissing again and it occurred to me that being so close felt like the red velvet cake he made last week: delicious, but after one or two bites, I’d had my fill.

When he started to walk me towards the bed I pulled away. “If my Dad catches us, you’ll lose your guest room privileges.”

His chest heaved up and down. “Why can’t we just tell them about us?”

One kiss and we were an us? “I think that’s a bad idea.”

His smile disagreed with me. “Maybe they’d approve. After all, I’m not some stranger and they know I’m a nice guy.”

Gavin’s arguments made sense and were nearly impossible to refute. This left me with two options: admit that I was way more interested in sneaking around than in being his official girlfriend, or resume kissing him—a distraction device. I chose option two. He was easily distractible and I felt my body respond as he pressed himself against me. I let him lower me to the bed, where we made out for a good twenty minutes. I even let Gavin get to second base, but when he tried to get to third, I pushed his hand away and sat up.

“I think I heard something,” I whispered.

Gavin breathed deeply. “It’s nothing.”

“No, there were footsteps.”

Then, to my horror, there was a knock. I lunged under the bed and hid.

“Yes,” Gavin answered in a strangled voice. The door opened.

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted some Advil. Skylar, do you know where it is?”

Jo Beth’s voice was flat, as if there was nothing strange about speaking to me while I hid under the bed. She crouched down. “Skylar, come out from there. I need your help.”

The humiliation was so intense I thought I might spontaneously combust, but I crawled out. “Sorry. I was worried you were Dad.”

Jo Beth’s eyes were so glazed, I felt a spurt of alarm. Why wasn’t she taunting me?

“Can you get me that Advil?”

I brushed the dust off my pants legs and out of my hair. “Sure. Of course.”

“Or maybe something stronger? Do you know where Mom keeps her meds? I looked in her medicine cabinet and it was empty.”

Gavin and I exchanged a look. His raised eyebrow annoyed me. How dare you, I thought. Don’t pass judgment on my sister.

“Come on,” I said to Jo Beth. “We’ll find what you need.”

I didn’t give Gavin a second glance as I closed the door to his room behind me.