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Not then, not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday.
At first, I tried to bring up some topic of conversation when we got lost in the waves at dawn. Back at home, she’d grab an apple from the fridge, put it in her backpack, and go off on her bike to school.
I couldn’t decide whether to demand an explanation or let it go, because for the first time in ages, Leah seemed whole, awake. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the rest of the time, she was focused on her things.
She did her homework in the early afternoon, sometimes next to me on the desk, sometimes sitting on the living room floor or lying in bed. Then she’d kill time with her headphones on or painting. She painted for herself, in a notebook she often kept under her arm, always within reach, as though she were afraid of leaving it out and having someone find it.
That fucked me up.
It fucked me up that she was denying me her magic, the feelings she was portraying, the secrets in her mind. I knew I didn’t have a right to be bothered, but I couldn’t keep a handle on my resentment. Selfishly, I wanted things to be like before, but they never could be because she shed her skin before my eyes every month, growing and choosing her own path.
When Friday came, I was so frustrated I couldn’t even concentrate on the book I was reading as the crickets chanted through the night.
Leah came out onto the porch. She was wearing a very simple light blue dress that revealed each and every curve of her body, along with colorful sandals that matched her earrings. She had on lipstick and black eyeshadow. I don’t think I’d ever seen her like that, so…different, so…womanly. Or I hadn’t noticed that side of her before. And damn the moment that I did, because there was something addictive there, that mystery, those emotions, that unpredictable nature. Her. “I’m going out with Blair. I won’t be late.”
“Hey, wait up.” I stood before she could turn. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Didn’t it occur to you I might want to go out for a while?”
“Who’s stopping you?” she replied.
“I thought you’d be here.”
“If memory serves me, that didn’t seem to be a problem for you last week.”
“Leah.” I grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes. “Don’t try me. You live under my roof, so before you do something, tell me. Is someone picking you up?”
“No, I’m walking.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I feel like taking a walk.”
“Forget it. I’ll drive you.”
I watched her bite her tongue while I went for my keys. I didn’t care if it hurt her that I treated her like a child, because that’s what she was, in the end. She was nineteen fucking years old. I repeated that to myself as often as I could, but I don’t know if that was some kind of reproach against her or a reminder to myself.
Neither of us said a word on the way to Byron Bay. I drove to a large two-story house near the beach. I stopped in front of it. Music was coming from inside, and I don’t know why, I had the urge to step on the gas and take her far away so we could be alone. To spend that night somewhere walking on the sand, or sitting on our porch, listening to music, talking, dancing, painting, or sharing the moment in silence.
I clutched the steering wheel. “What time should I pick you up?”
“You don’t need to, thanks.”
I locked the door before Leah could open it. She turned toward me with knitted brows and a tense mouth in a horizontal line. A look of defiance…
“I don’t care if you stay here till the crack of dawn. That’s fine, have a ball. But tell me a fucking time. And I’ll be here at that time, waiting at the door. And you better be too. Have I explained myself?”
“I can’t have a friend bring me…?”
“No, not unless you want me to come in, meet everyone, and talk to them about how pissed I’d be if any of them gets the idea to drink and then let you get in the car with them. And believe me, they don’t want to see me pissed off. Anyway, I suspect you don’t like the idea of me presenting myself as your personal babysitter, so let’s make things easy, Leah.”
“Three,” she said.
“Done. I’ll be here. Have fun.”
I don’t know if she heard me before she slammed the door.
I stopped by the sea before driving awhile longer. I could have gone home, but I left my sandals in the car and walked down a path to the beach. I heard the roaring of the waves close by. I lay down in the sand, my hands folded behind my head, and observed the stars scattered across the sky.
And I thought of her. Of me. Everything.
