Alisiyad Chapter 13 ~ Roller Coaster (Part 2)

Liseli walked over to the bed, seeing something white lying across the foot of it.  It was a dress.  She picked up the note and read it to herself:

Liseli,

I went through my chest of old things and found this dress I that wore a couple years ago for the festival.  I usually give my old dresses away, but this was a particular favorite and I held onto it for sentimental reasons.  It was my “coming of age” 15th birthday dress, the white symbolizes youth and purity and the purple and emerald trim is to symbolize the maturity and fertility to come.  But there is no reason why you cannot wear it.  I was only a little shorter than I am now, so I hope this will fit you better than the other dress.

Eliasha

She lowered the paper slowly and looked at Russ.

“What?”

“Well . . . .”  She studied the message again; “she’s calling me a slut.”

“Oh come on.  What makes you think—”

“It’s a white dress, Russell.  She says, ‘the white symbolizes youth and purity . . . but there is no reason why you cannot wear it.’”  Liseli mimicked Eliasha’s teasing tone of voice.  “That’s sarcasm.”

“I still don’t get it.”  He shrugged.  “You’re not—”

“I’m not pure,” she huffed, giving him a glare.  He winced.  Liseli slapped the paper against her other hand, “She saw me last night.  On the balcony.  And she knows why I was outside your room.  She knows what we were doing.”

Russ scratched his head.  “She probably didn’t mean it . . . that way.  Anyway, it doesn’t make you a—” he couldn’t say the word “—a-at least I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?  Really,” Liseli hugged herself and hunched her shoulders, looking down.  “Then you must not be the guy who fucked me last night.”

He turned and deliberately banged his forehead against the doorframe.  He held it there for a moment, then backed into the bathroom and shut the door without a word.  Liseli felt stung.  She blinked rapidly and sat down on the edge of the bed. He did think it, because it was true.  Fucking.  Yes, she thought sickly.  That’s all it was, wasn’t it?  You made yourself into what you’ve criticized Mom and Leona for being, but you are worse, you are a hypocrite besides.  Liseli thought she was in danger of crying again, but she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, and didn’t.

After a moment she lowered her hands and picked up the dress, holding it in her lap and studying it.  She thought about Eliasha and remembered yesterday’s meeting in the garden.  Perhaps it was good that the impertinent little girl knew.  The thought calmed her, lifting her up.  Russ is mine, inside and out.  You know it.  You have no place in any of it.  She smiled grimly.  She’d won, really.  Eliasha was just a poor loser.

It was a pretty dress, though.  The green trim matched her eyes.  She’d wear it anyway, if it really did fit better.

Just as she made this resolution Russ came out of the bathroom.  He still seemed miffed about her last statement, and started to get dressed as if she wasn’t there.  She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he pulled on his jeans.

“Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

“Don’t need one.”

“You were sweating.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched.  “A little sweat never killed anyone.”  He yanked his tee shirt on over his head.

“At least shave before we go down to the pavilion for breakfast.”

“I don’t want to.  I almost cut my throat yesterday,” he said, shrugging into his button-up shirt, which he’d only ever buttoned up last night as far as she remembered.

“Yeah, well you didn’t.  And you’re not going to show up at the big festival hoo-rah looking like a bum.  And wear that black shirt they gave you, instead.”

“Why?”  He shoved his hands in his pockets.  “You said it made me look like a weird painting.”

“I like weird paintings.”  She tilted her chin up as she raised her eyebrows at him.  “You wear black and I’ll wear white.  We’ll be black and white.”

He stared at her for a moment.  “You’re not upset about it anymore,” he stated, with a suspicious squint.

“I’ll live,” she said dryly.  “Eliasha’s note just . . . well, I’m not letting her get under my skin.  There.  Anyway, I don’t know why you’re acting all pissed off about it for.”

“Oh yeah?  If you’re a ‘slut’ what does that make me?  A stupid fucking john or something?”  He crossed his arms and glared.  Liseli was taken aback by the unfamiliar expression, and she wanted to slap him again.  Instead she just clenched the dress in her hands.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, biting off her words.

“Sorry.”  He didn’t sound sincere.

A flash of anger returned.  “I know I’m the one who came in here and . . . and threw myself at you.  No one’s accusing you of anything, so stop making this about you.”

“Oh.”  He threw his hands up and looked to the ceiling.  “That’s it.  That’s just it.  I don’t even matter to you.”

“Don’t be a jerk.”  Liseli stood up and threw the dress on the bed.  Why were they even arguing about this?  Hadn’t she decided not to let it bother her?  But he just wouldn’t let it go, would he?

“You just don’t understand,” she sighed.  “I was proud of my virginity, and I . . . well, you’re a guy and it’s not like that for you.”  She paused, and quieted.  “Were you even . . . ?”

“Guess.”  He was locked onto the ceiling and wouldn’t look down.

“Well,” she sniffed, “there was Marcy, so—”

“Please.”  He made a face at the crossbeams.

Liseli didn’t say anything, but the knowledge made her feel better.

Russ looked down again, and cleared his throat in the awkward silence.  “Look,” he said, then stopped and glanced to the side, saying something under his breath which she didn’t ask him to repeat.  Finally he put his hands on her shoulders and said, “No one’s calling you a slut but yourself.  ‘Easy’ doesn’t even come close to what you are.  Gimme a break.”

“What am I then?”  She folded her hands and arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“You . . . ” he paused, then moved his hands down to her arms.  “You’re a . . . an island.”

Huh?  “Yeah, sure.”

“Let me finish.”  His wrinkled his forehead in deep thought.  “And I’m . . . um . . . it’s like I’m shipwrecked.  On you.”

“Right.”  She shook her head, then brushed his hands from her arms.  “Go shave, Russ.”

“You’re not listening.”

“Your analogy doesn’t make any sense.”

“Forget it, then.”  He held his hands up in surrender.  “I know you don’t think I give a damn about anything besides sex.  So maybe I won’t.”

“Oh, what is that?” Liseli rolled her eyes.  “A threat to stop being your paragon of sensitivity self?”

“Yeah,” he said, and she didn’t think he really knew what “paragon” meant.

“Fine.”  She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

He backed up, but he wasn’t finished.  “You know, it meant something to me.”

“What?”

He shrugged.  “Last night.  I thought you needed me.  I liked that.”

She picked up the black shirt and threw it at him.  “I want you to wear that one.”

He caught it.  “Lis—”

“Look.”  She put her hands on her hips.  “Do you love me?”

“I . . . .”  His eyes went wide and he paused with his mouth open warily.

“Because I don’t know,” she said.  “I’d like to think that’s the only reason I’d ever sleep with a guy.  But . . . but . . . just go, okay?  We’re going to be late for breakfast.”  She waved her hands at him.

Russ sighed and slapped the shirt against his leg before retreating to the bathroom, shutting the door with a bang.  Liseli sat back down on the bed and studied Eliasha’s dress.  He can’t answer the question.  She wasn’t sure why it made any difference.

When Russ came out, face still tingling from the dangerous shave, he saw Liseli sitting at the bureau braiding her hair.  The white dress rested lightly on her shoulders and swept low across her chest, leaving the beginning swell of her breasts visible.  He didn’t regret anything he’d done last night.  It had gotten him into trouble, but didn’t everything?

She glanced at him and said, “Tuck your shirt in.”

“I don’t like the way it looks tucked in.  It looks nerdy.”

“Russ.”

“Okay.”  He tucked his shirt in, watching her weaving her fingers through her hair.  It wasn’t as curly when wet, but the ends and the tendrils around her face were drying to damp and twirling into the familiar kinks.  He took a deep breath.  If he was going to do this he had better do it now.  “I have a present for you.”

“Huh?”

“Close your eyes.”

“I’m braid—”

“Just close ’em, you can finish in a moment.”

She gave him a look that said this better not be a joke, then sat up a little straighter and closed her eyes.  Russ opened the bureau drawer and took out the necklace, trying not to make any telltale noise.  She continued to braid her hair with her eyes shut.

He squinted at the clasp, undoing it slowly so he could remember how to close it again.  Then he stepped up behind her like he’d seen done on jewelry commercials, and laid the dogseye pendent against her chest.  She opened her eyes as soon as it touched her, but she didn’t make any noise.  Russ fumbled with the clasp against her neck, looking at her expression in the mirror, trying to tell if she liked it.  She looked stricken.

“What’s the matter?  Don’t you like it?”

“How did you get this?” she asked, dropping her hair, reaching up to touch it.

“I, uh . . . .  Don’t you like it?”  He was nonplussed; her hair fell over his hands and he couldn’t see the clasp anymore.  He let go and the pendent slid into her palm.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and he realized that tears were running down her cheeks.

“What, don’t cry.”  His stomach wrenched.  “What’s the matter?  Don’t you—”

“Yes, I like it.”  She waved her free hand at him.  “It’s perfect.”

He was definitely missing something.  “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” she moaned, wiping her eyes.  “Don’t . . . look at me.”  She ducked her head, half-braided hair falling in front of her face.

“Well . . . it’s . . . .”  He paused.  “It’s dogseye.  A stone they mine here, I guess.  They told me it’s like a . . . a good luck charm, you give it to someone you love to protect them from harm.”

That only seemed to make it worse.  She made a horrible sound, which he realized was a sob.  He squirmed, then also realized that he was digging his fingernails into his palms.  He tried to relax, and said, “Li-Liseli, I’m sorry.  About everything.  But not last night, I—”

She looked up, then started to laugh tremulously as she wiped her eyes again.  “I’m okay.”  She stood up and hugged him around the waist.  “I’m touched, that’s all.  This is sweet.  Thank you.”  She stepped away, and put the necklace on herself.  Her tears had stopped.

Russ felt like he was on a roller coaster, with no seatbelt.  Or seat, for that matter.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”  She nodded, shaking out her hair.  “But I have to do my hair over now.”

“I like it just out like that,” he said.

“It’s not the style here,” she combed through the damp hair hastily, frowning as it began to curl.  “If you hadn’t noticed, all the women here have braids of one sort or another.”

He shrugged one shoulder, leaning against the bureau as she twisted sections of her hair together forcibly, bending them to her will.  He could relate.  “So?  You don’t need to look like all the women here.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t even.  They’re all tall and pale and raven-haired.  I’m short and freckly and red.”  She glanced at him before returning sadly to her reflection in the mirror.  She wanted a compliment.

“You look nice,” he choked.  She was still so hard to talk to.  He’d always thought sex would make everything else easier.  What a joke.  A different reply came to his mind a moment too late: You’re like fire, they’re like ice.  Why couldn’t he have said that instead?  But maybe she’d think it was as lame as the island.  He still thought that one was good; he did feel like he was shipwrecked on a forbidden island that he could either live off of or die on.

Liseli shrugged at the vague compliment.  “Thanks.”

“The stone matches your hair.”

She looked down.  “It does, kinda, doesn’t it?  Huh.”

“I thought you’d like that.”  Why, moron?  She’s always complaining about her hair.

She smiled as she finished off her braid.  She stood up and took his hand.  “You look nice too.  And no bleeding this time.  Come on, let’s eat,” she pulled him toward the balcony.  He was amazed.  Eliasha had been right; it worked.  Liseli had seen the necklace and seemingly forgotten about their whole argument and the dragging of her pristineness through the mud that was him.  He followed her outside past the unmade bed, walking on air with relief.  The roller coaster was climbing, again.