Episode 32: Date Night (Rhyss)

There she was, warm and glowing and as gorgeous as when he’d left her yesterday, ready for another date.

He had no idea he could just attach to someone the way he had.

But he had.

He had, and there was no going back. Not for him, he was in this one hundred percent.

He grinned – he couldn’t help it – and took the dessert pan from her. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” She smiled up at him. “I brought a few things.”

Once he’d taken the stuff, she hugged him and then pulled back and kissed him.

Their future spanned out in his mind’s eye. They’d take things a day at a time, work together to build something good and lasting. With her warmth and optimism and his…well. He had nothing to offer outside of existing.

But he didn’t want to admit that to her.

He saw her eyes take in his outfit. He couldn’t figure out where to look.

He’d used some of the money from his bonus to buy a new shirt and pants. Really new, not from a charity consignment place, so the clothes were decent for once. He’d had another girlfriend a couple of years ago, and she’d stopped coming while his mom was in the hospital. He wanted to do it right this time.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, pointing to the tray of some kind of dessert pastry thing.

“Three to five is a long wait,” she teased.

She kissed him, pressed against him. She tasted like lemon and sugar, and he guessed she must have sampled the dessert.

He kissed back. His hands tangled in her hair. That was one of his favorite things from yesterday, that his hands still smelled like her all night long. He wanted that again.

At this rate, they’d never eat.

He forced himself to pull back just enough that he could talk. “Next time you can just come over at three if you want and we can cook together.”

He wondered what it would be like to cook with her in that small kitchen. Working together, bodies so close, new fun aromas.

Who knew cooking could be a sex thing?

“Deal,” she said. She picked up her plate of dessert. “Where would you like this?”

He didn’t care. She could have stuffed it under the porch and come back to him for more kisses and he wouldn’t have minded at all.

In fact he kind of minded that she didn’t.

But he liked food, too.

“Kitchen table?” he suggested.

He held the door open for her. She thanked him and ducked under his arm, into the shadows of the house.

He liked having her there.

He’d always thought if he brought another girl here she’d never fit in. Like finding perfect, preserved porcelain at the dump.

She did belong here, though. She looked around like she was home, not like he was judging, and he wanted to thank her for being.

She stood right there in the living room and smiled at his mom. “Hi, Elinor.”

There was a silence.

Some silences were just because there was nothing to say.

This one was like his mom was pulling herself in, drawing energy from the room. She sat up straighter than Rhyss had ever seen and looked at Rhyss.

“I told you not to bring that girl here.”

Rhyss froze.

Emily was going to leave. She’d think she wasn’t welcome and think his mom hated her and leave.

And never come back. Just like his last girlfriend, Ali.

No. This was Emily. She was stalwart.

“It’s not Sam, it’s me,” Rhyss said.

“I’m here to see Rhyss,” Emily said in a steady tone. He liked that she didn’t get all soft and condescending. His mom was a person, not a baby. “I brought dessert,” Emily added.

His mom frowned at her. “I don’t want your child living with us. It isn’t safe.”

Emily’s face went blank for a second and then went back to normal.

Please, don’t let his mom push her away.

“She doesn’t have any kids,” Rhyss promised. “Do you want you food in the kitchen or out here?

“Here,” she answered. She folded her arms and scowled at Emily.

She’d get used to Emily eventually as long as Emily stayed steady.

He led Emily into the kitchen. “I’m sorry. She always thinks I’m my dad. I don’t know why, I don’t even look like him.”

She forced a smile. “It’s fine. I understand and I really don’t mind.”

It wasn’t fine if she had to pretend it was.

He scrambled for a way to make her feel better about his mom. He settled on distraction. What he really wanted was to know her well enough that he’d know how to help her right away.

They’d get there.

He set plates and glasses on the table. “Sorry about that light.” He pointed at the hanging lamp over the table in the corner. The light flickered and some days, like tonight, was half as bright as it could be. If you hit it sometimes it comes on easier.”

“My mom’s does the same thing; I can fix it if you want.” She brushed against him as she moved through the kitchen. “But it will cost you,” she teased.

Like an instinct, his hand snaked around her and grazed her waistline as she moved away. “What’s the price?”

She smiled. He loved the shape of her eyes when she smiled, perfect sapphire almonds. “A movie after dessert?”

He could afford a movie. Not every date, but this one. There was that Dollar Max theater out near the bay.

“What do you want to see?” He hoped that whatever it was, Dollar Max was playing it this week.

“What do you have?” she asked.

He switched the oven off and pulled the food out. He set it on the top of the stove to cool and hung the two oven mitts on their hook on the wall.

“We don’t,” he said.

“You don’t have a single movie?”

How could she be surprised? She’d grown up in Clovercrest too. He had a choice between food and movies, guess which one he picked.

The only reason they even had tv was because Ms. Anney had wired them into her line. Not that Emily would know that.

It had never occurred to Rhyss that even here, there were differences.

He fought the urge to clam up and shut her out, the thing he’d done all his life.

This was Emily, not some stranger. She wouldn’t just disappear.

“But I have video games if you like those,” he said instead of shutting down. “On one of the classic systems.”

She grinned. “I’ve been persuaded.”

He kissed her.

It was so hard to believe this was real.

He focused on something else. They had to eat sometime, or they’d never eat.

Obviously.

“This stuff smells good,” he told Emily, as he added some of the dilled carrots she’d brought with her. His mom’s plate had spaghetti and garlic bread and the dilled carrots and it looked nicer than anything Rhyss could have made her.

He added one of the raspberry-lemon cookies she’d brought and a napkin.

“Do you have any plants?” Emily asked. “Herbs and such? I bet a little more oregano would add.”

More oregano implied he’d used some on the spaghetti to begin with.

He laughed. “No. I don’t have that stuff.”

“I’m going to run to Ms. Anney’s for one minute. I will be right back. With or without my arm, depending on if she tries to keep me hostage.” She kissed him again, and let herself out the front door.

He gripped the back of a chair in his hands. He needed to calm down and organize.

He picked up the plate of dinner for his mom, and the napkin with the cookie, and carried them out to the tv room.

“Hey,” he said to his mom.  He set the tray of food on the table next to her chair.

She gazed at him. “Is that girl gone?”

“Just for a minute.” He cleared his throat. “She lives here now.”

It wasn’t true, but she would be here more and his mom would need to get used to that idea.

“You’re going to ruin our family. They’ll find the boy and kill you for what you did.”

His mom had never shared so much family history at once before.

He wondered who the boy was. What had happened to him. Rhyss would have liked to have a brother.

“I’m not going to get anyone killed,” he promised her. He held her hand for emphasis.

She nodded her head. “Good. We’re safe here.” She turned her head back to the tv.

He had to ask. He couldn’t not. Who knew when she’d be sharing like this again.

“What was the baby’ s name?”

“Baby Zach?” she asked. “His name was Zach.”

He had a name to work with. Someone named Zach. Probably no dad growing up. Spent time in Clovercrest.

It wasn’t much but it was something.

“Zach what?” he pressed.

She had her eyes on the tv, her mouth forming the shapes of the words the people in the sitcom used.

The laugh track came on. Her face lit with the laughter, her mouth opened, and she laughed. It was a good mimic of the television.

He cleared the dirty dishes off her table, the ones from lunch. Mixed in with them was a jar full of herbs.

He’d never seen his mom do magic before.

It was alarming. He had no idea how to recognize spells or protect her from whatever trouble she could run into with magic.

“What’s this?” he asked. He held it between her face and the tv so that she’d have to look at him.

“That’s mine,” she told him. She reached for it. “I put my hair in it.” He pulled it away and unscrewed the top. It was already loose. He looked inside. Sure enough, there was a big clump of her hair on top of the herbs.

He knelt in front of her. “Do we do magic?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“When did you do this?” When did she even have time? He’d never noticed dirty dishes or extra herbs or anything.

“I got it after the party,” she told him. Her eyes strayed to the tv.

He sighed. He opened and closed his fist and went back out to the kitchen. He unscrewed the lid to the magic and tipped it toward the sink drain.

No. The hair would clog the drain. Besides, he had no idea what the spell was. He didn’t want it out where other people would have access to it, in water treatment plants. Who knew what those chemicals would do to her, through the spell.

He went out back and looked around.

He should disperse it all over the yard to dilute its effects. If he spread it out, no one would probably even notice it was there.

He wish he understood magic better, well enough to know what the spell was for.

He walked all around the yard, front and back, sprinkling the herbs and hair everywhere in a thin layer so it wasn’t obvious there was a spell on the ground.

Then he went back inside, put the jar in the trash, and focused on the rest of dinner.

By the time Emily came in he had served both of their plates too.

“How’s your mom?” she asked him. She sprinkled the oregano over their food.

He tried to focus on something besides the way her fingers moved as they crushed the oregano. She had narrow, elegant fingers.

“She’s good,” he said. “Right before my dad died I’m pretty sure she had an affair. How’s your job going?”

“She did?” Emily asked. She sat, but she looked at him and waited for him to answer.

Heat rushed into his body. He’d been too distracted, messed up.

“Oh, no, I mean my dad. Sorry.”

He took a deep breath. Being nervous wasn’t going to help anything.

She took a bite of food, chewed and swallowed it. “It’s fine. It just sounded like he did.” She ate another bite and added, “A public affair, maybe.”

She sounded so thoughtful when she said it, like it mattered to her what motivated his mom. Even Jill had spent most of her time exasperated with their mom, not trying to understand the pieces.

“This is really good,” Emily said. He’d forgotten to talk. “Thank you for having me over.”

Before he sat, he went to the counter and got a bottle of wine he’d bought at the grocery store. It was cheap. He’d never had alcohol before but he knew it was something people did on dates.

It took him a minute to figure out the cork. Emily laughed and set her hand on his. She used something off her keychain to pull the cork out and then put her keys back in her pocket.

“I got this thing,” Rhyss said, unnecessary.

He poured her some wine; he could at least do that. “I’m really glad you came. I had this idea you’d decide not to.”

She brought the wine to her lips and smelled it instead of drinking. “Me stand you up? You’re crazy.”

She set the wine down.

She picked it back up.

She set it down again.

She picked it back up again, and took a sip.

It must smell awful, to have her avoiding it like that.

He drank some too, to see, and choked on it. He laughed once he could breathe again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s good,” she insisted.

He didn’t think she’d lie to him, which meant he just wasn’t used to wine yet.

“Which games do you have?” she asked. She’d angled her body toward him so their knees touched under the table. Now she leaned too.

“It’s just an old Novani,” he explained. He didn’t want her to get her hopes up that he had a Fortress. “So…Packer? Ribbit, and Cross. And the old Realm Saga.”

He loved Realm Saga. He liked the colors and the music and the dumb story about rescuing the princess and traveling with a band of misfits and everything.

“I love Ribbit,” she said.

Ribbit was a good game too. The player controlled a hungry frog, which hopped around the screen eating mosquitoes and avoiding birds and snakes.

Rhyss had lost interest since he’d found out that the last level was supposed to be unbeatable. He’d beaten it when he was nine, back before Jill disappeared.

“You have it?” Emily said, excited. “You can’t find it anywhere anymore. All the old copies are missing or astronomically priced.”

Rhyss beamed. The jitters from her weirdness earlier were smoother now. She was just so easy to talk to. So easy to be with.

He relaxed his leg against hers. “I know. I’ve thought about selling it, but the money wouldn’t last as long as the game.”

He’d never be able to count how many times those four games had saved him, as a kid.

“I would pay you to keep it, if I had to,” Emily laughed. “I love that game.”

Rhyss laughed too.

He loved her laugh.

She glanced at the herbs on the kitchen counter. “You worked this morning, right?” she asked.

“Yeah. And Antoine offered me a really good wage.” Fifteen dollars an hour, for unskilled work. He hadn’t even made that at the car shop. “With that and my art stuff on weekends I think I can do okay.”

“Just don’t eat too many donuts,” she teased.

He laughed. It was easy to imagine himself in thirty years, giant from donut consumption.

More importantly, donuts cost money.

“I’ll try not to. Antoine lets anyone eat the messed up donuts for free. I can just mess some up if I’m hungry.”

Except he’d never do that. He had a good job. He’d rather be hungry for a morning than weeks or months until he managed to get another job.

She laughed again. “And a box a week. Don’t let him forget to tell you.”

A box a week. Something to share with Emily. He could decorate them special for her.

“Really? So I won’t have as many groceries either.” He wondered if his mom liked donuts. He’d never bought them before, but he’d never met anyone who didn’t like donuts.

“It’s a good job,” she agreed. “I wish everyone was as fair as he was.”

Rhyss nodded his head. Antoine had somehow come out of a Clovercrest childhood with a giving heart, which was basically impossible. Rhyss knew he hadn’t. He wanted things to improve but he wasn’t jumping up and down to be the one to do it. What he had, was for him and his mom. And Emily now too.

“Maybe he can give you a job too,” he suggested.

Something safe. Something not in another realm.

“I might need one soon, but I have savings. I make…enough…with my job.”

This was the important conversation. Their future.

“Look, I know it’s really fast but I don’t see this changing at all. If you’d want to mo-”

She interrupted him. Her voice was high and anxious. “I might be pregnant.” Her skin flushed and she took a deep breath. “Okay. You finish your sentence. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“What?” he asked.

Pregnant.

It was insane.

It was perfect.

She looked at the herbs she’d brought. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

She wasn’t upset because she thought his mom was rejecting her. She’d been upset because his mom brought up kids and she’d realized.

He smiled. He couldn’t help it, even with the jitters. He’d thought he was nervous before, but it was nothing compared to the idea that she might be pregnant.

He wiped his palms along the denim on his thighs.

“Really pregnant?”

“I didn’t have tea,” she confirmed. “I made a test. I mean, I got the ingredients. That’s why I went to Ms. Anney’s. It might be too soon to know for sure.”

She could make a test.

He wondered if she’d be willing to teach him magic sometime, even though he didn’t have a familiar.

He reached for her hand and held it. “Do you want to be?”

She squeezed his hand and met his eyes, less certain. “Maybe. What was your thing?”

“If you wanted to stay here. Pool our money and save more.” And be happy, together. He knew he could get through anything with Emily there.

She leaned even closer to him. “How can I help your mom adjust to that idea?”

By being Emily. His mom would learn that she was good and patient and warm, and time would fix everything. “Time,” he said, because being yourself sounded dumb. “It took her about a month to get used to Jill being gone, and now she just never talks about her.”

If something happened to Rhyss, his mom wouldn’t know or care. Sometimes that thought made him sad. Sometimes it made him protective and determined to survive.

“Okay,” Emily said.

Was she agreeing, just like that?

“So you want to?” he clarified. “Pregnant or not?”

She set her fork on her plate and smiled. “Yes.”

He couldn’t wait to marry her.

“I’m happy you said yes,” he admitted. He leaned across the small space between them and kissed her.

Supper was for people who didn’t have Emily. He had no appetite at all, from excitement, but he didn’t want to waste the food either.

“Me too. Do you want me to take the test? Or do you want to just wait and see?”

It would be fun to be surprised, but it would be nerve-wracking too. He looked at her and tried to assess what she would want.

She was so intent on him, her hand on his side, her eyes honest and curious.

“What would you do if you’re not?” he asked.

“Start tea, so we can better plan,” she suggested.

That was a good idea. Wanting kids didn’t mean having kids right this minute was the absolute best option. Imagine if they managed to save up a few thousand dollars between them first. They could give their baby anything, without having to worry.

“Then we should take a test,” he told her. “If you are, that’s okay too. We have months to plan.”

“And I do have some money set aside.” Her eyes lit with a new brightness but her lids closed over them a little, like she was nervous. He ran his hand up her arm, soothing.

She leaned into him. “There’s an abandoned house near the beach I’ve always wanted to restore.”

“Move out of Clovercrest?” Nothing said they had to stay here. It just hadn’t occurred to him to leave. This was where his house was, it was where he lived. But she wanted a different house, on the water.

It…yes. He wanted it too. “I can help you fix it up,” he offered.

“You don’t have to,” she said in a rushed voice. “Your mom knows this house. And I love Clovercrest, too.”

But if they lived on the beach, they’d be in a better place. Their kids would go to Germaine Aoyade Elementary, not Clovercrest. Better educations, a better neighborhood.

Higher risk of cult, but they could teach their kid to know better.

“Moving her is doable though,” he assured her. “She can adjust.”

“So, test first.” She went over to the counter and started cutting up some of the plants she’d brought. “I have the payment for the house already. And a decent amount for renovations.”

It must have been a very run down house.

That was ok. They could read about how to do the repairs. They could learn together.

“When I got let go from my job, they gave me kind of a bonus. So I have extra money right now that I can put aside.” And stop spending on shirts and wine to impress Emily. She’d be more impressed with frugality than with a shirt. He reached for her hand. “We can do this. And I promise our kids, however many we decide to have, will grow up with more than we had.”

“I have saved…I don’t want to say it.” She looked down at their hands. “It…yes, this is good.”

“A lot, then?” he teased.

Imagine if she had another thousand of her own. They’d be at a good place. Double the money with a small increase in expenses.

“Eighty-four thousand?” She estimated, eyes closed. “That’s almost my entire wages since I started the job. The house is twenty-six, including a year’s taxes.”

He tried to find words.

There weren’t any words.

‘What the hell are you doing in Clovercrest’ might have been good.

“I have like…one eighty-fourth of that,” he confessed. “Plus a needy mom.”

His mental image of his own self worth shriveled a little more.

“If the floors are good, which they were a few months ago, then we can sand and stain the wood for only a hundred or two.” She looked up at him, reassuring.

“What about electrical and plumbing?” A house that cheap, on the water, probably didn’t have either.

“I checked it, and I can replace the necessary pipes and stuff. The laws are relaxed, so I need an inspection after, but not an actual plumber or electrician.”

Optimism moved through him like electricity. He grinned at her. “Then I guess we know what we’re doing between three and five from now on.”

He wished he knew which house.

“I’ll buy it then,” she decided. “We can buy it together.”

Right, with her money.

He tried to think of houses for sale along the water, run down enough for them to afford, and settled on one that fit Emily’s description.

“Is it that one down by Chifter’s Cove?”

“With the used-to-be-white shutters and the sea-destroyed blue walls,” she confirmed.

It wasn’t sea-destroyed, it was a painting. A place that was real, not hyped up and modern, not magical, not metal, not perfect. It showed age and time and yearning.

If she went to his room, she’d see the painting.

“And the porch,” he said, after a too-long break in talking. “It has an amazing porch.”

“Yes it does.” She kissed him again, for a minute or ten, and then said, “I’m going to take the test.”

She scraped everything off the cutting board into her hand.

They were going to know in a minute.

Rhyss rubbed his palms down his thighs. He hated sweaty palms.

“I know it’s crazy but I kind of hope you are. I can just see it really clearly right now.”

That house was perfect for kids. He could picture a swingset on the lawn, seagulls down along the waterline, the house protected from the worst of storms by the peninsula.

Home.

He wanted it.

“You want kids?” she asked from the doorway to the stairs. “Have you always?”

He looked down for a minute. When he looked back at her, he had his answer. “I want kids with you.”

Her smile was as big as her face.

He listened to the sound of her climbing the stairs, each creak. He’d hated how they creaked his entire life. They were a constant threat that his mom was about to wake just because he was moving around the house.

He loved them now. It was a comfort to know Emily was here, moving around his upstairs, his home.

Their home, for now.

But he wanted that other house.

He started clearing the dinner dishes, rinsing the spaghetti off. He’d wash them later, after she left…

He laughed. She wasn’t leaving.

He washed them now, while she was busy.

While he washed, he read through the paper instructions on the counter for making and interpreting the test. Blue for boy, pink for girl, nothing at all for not pregnant.

When he finished, he realized she’d been standing in the kitchen behind him for who knew how long. The running water had drowned out the creaks of footsteps on the stairs.

She bit her lip, and then smiled.

“It’s a both,” she told him.

“Pregnant and not?” he joked, lost.

He crossed the few feet between them and held onto both of her hands.

She laughed at his joke.

“Purple,” she said.

It took him a minute.

“Twins?” he asked, to make sure he understood her right. “Two? We’re having two kids?”

“What?” She put her hand on her belly. Because he was holding her hand, that meant she put his hand on her belly too.

“If pink is a girl and blue is a boy, then purple…”

He watched realization make her eyes matching rings of shock. “Oh.”

Rhyss ran his hand over the spot, palm flat against the skin that protected two babies. “So that’s a thing that’s going to happen,” he said against her neck in a quiet voice.

She turned and hugged him. “Yeah.” She smiled. “That’s a thing that’s going to happen.”

Babies. They were going to have babies, a boy and a girl. They would always have each other. They would always have two loving parents. They would have a house on the bay and a swingset and a good life.

“We can do this,” he assured her. “We’ll make it really good and give them a happy home.”

He kissed her, and it deepened into the same hunger that he’d felt yesterday morning, the hunger that had led to her pregnancy.

She pulled away, but he could still taste the sweetness of her mouth. “I guess we really can’t live here,” she teased, “Since your mom said no babies in the house.”

“Can I do something weird?” he asked. He ran his fingertips over the small of her back.

“Maybe? Sure.”

He smiled, and kissed her again. While they kissed, he lifted her up in his arms with her legs hooked over his right arm and her neck resting on his left. He reached to the counter and grabbed one of the desert things she’d brought – brownies – and set them on her belly.

He carried her up the stairs, still kissing, so hungry. In his room, still in his arms, she smiled up at him. “This isn’t weird.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Good, I wanted to.” He set her on the bed.

She looked around the room. Paintings everywhere, a mess of dirty clothes. He was a little embarrassed about that part, but more embarrassed when she looked around on his bed and saw his stuffed owl. She tucked it onto her lap, against her belly.

He.

He didn’t know how to not fall in love with her. Not that he was fighting it, but it had been such a short time since they’d met. The fact of her sitting on his bed, holding his owl that he still slept with…

She was pregnant.

He thought of a quote from a movie: I am my beloved’s and he is mine.

It sounded old and powerful, like a strong spell, so he didn’t want to say it out loud in case it accidentally was a strong spell.

But he understood the quote. She was his. Not in a possessive way where he owned her, but in a way where she let him have her. And he was hers because of the same thing. He was giving all of himself to her, letting her in.

It was a sinking place, like a nocturne painting that could be light and dark.

Knowing, and being known. Being wanted despite everything.

He wanted her safe.

“Can you quit your job tomorrow?” he asked. He sat down next to her. “We can find you something safer. You don’t even have to go back there, you can just stop going.”

“You don’t like my job?” she joked. “Yes, I can quit.” She passed him the owl. “But in person. They’d come find me if I just stopped showing up.”

She looked around some more and he saw her eyes find the painting of that house she wanted.

She looked at him. He looked back, trying to think of a good line. Something about how they liked the same things even before he knew her. How he wasn’t just saying yes to the house to appease her or get sex the way some boys did. He said yes to the house because he wanted her to be happy, and because he thought the house was a good place.

There had to be some kind of easy, simple, way to say that.

“Will you ever want to get married?” she asked.

Totally unexpected.

“Soon?” he asked. “I was going to surprise you with that. I just need to figure something out that isn’t just, ‘Hey, we both have some money.’”

“But that’s so romantic,” she teased.

He laughed.

He’d always thought guys in movies were romantic because they wanted the girl to sleep with them.

There was a better reason though; maybe they did it because they wanted the girls to be happy.

He wanted Emily happy. Every minute of her life, forever, no matter what came their way.

He looked over at her, and found the deepest honesty inside him. “Meeting you was like puzzle pieces snapping together.”

Okay, not the most romantic line ever.

Not the worst, either.

“It’s about time you figured that out about us,” she teased him. “I’ve always known.”

Of course she had.

He laughed.

He had to say it. It was like a pressure built up inside him.

“I love you. Already. Maybe I always have, since the day you broke the hydrant and made everyone’s summer so fun.”

She smiled, and warmed him everywhere with the same words in return.

Love, he realized, wasn’t about dating or sex or romance.

It was about two people, with a magic between them. Something only they had, made up of all the moments that brought them together.

It was better than any spell.

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