Dreams and Shadows

chapter THIRTY-TWO

LOVERS IN THE AFTERNOON

Play that song again, Ewan.”

“Which one?”

“The one about your first love.”

“They’re all about my first love.”

“You know which one I’m talking about.”

“But you’re my first love.”

“So?”

“So are you really asking me to play a song I wrote about you?”

“Ewan.”

“Because you know how that sounds.”

“Ew-an.”

“Play that song about me.”

“Keep it up. I can go home at any time.”

“And?”

“And I’ll be taking all of your favorite parts with me.”

“You do have a lot of my favorite parts.”

“And they’ll be gone.”

“In fact, I’d argue that you have all of my favorite parts.”

“Play the f*cking song, Ewan.”

“Which one?”

Nora leaned in close, brushing the tip of her nose against his, breathing softly and deliberately. She kissed him ever so slightly on the lips and whispered, “The one about your first love.”

“Oh, that one.” He smiled and strummed the guitar. “The one about the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Nora and Ewan nuzzled on the floor of his apartment, half dressed, passing a lit cigarette back and forth. It was raining, the air heavy with the damp chill of late winter; the sort of gray, cozy, dreary day lovers find romantic. Ewan played, the music effortlessly drifting out of him, lingering in the air. Perfect.

The song ended. Ewan cocked his head, the wheels turning inside. Nora wrinkled her nose.

“I know what’s coming,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re about to ask me questions again.”

“I was?”

“You were.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite certain.”

He shook his head. “How the hell do you do that?”

“See? Questions.” Nora stabbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, immediately lighting up another.

“You always seem to know what I’m thinking, even before I think it. How do you do that?”

“I don’t know. I just know what you want. I can feel it. I think it’s because we were made for each other.”

“You know, most men would freak out if you talked to them like that.”

“Many would, I suppose.”

“No, really. Everything is so permanent with you. Everything is timeless or immortal or forever or made for each other.”

Nora smiled, shaking her head. “No, just us.”

“See, I should be freaking out over talk like that.”

“But you aren’t. You love it. In a universe where you feel altogether out of place, I’m the one thing that feels just right.”

“It should bother me that I’m as comfortable with this as I am.”

“But it doesn’t,” she said, smiling. “Because we were made for each other.”

“Then why can’t you tell me anything?”

“I’ve told you everything worth knowing.”

“You haven’t told me anything.”

Nora shrugged. “That’s the point, I guess.”

“I can’t be the only interesting thing in your life.”

Nora rolled over and looked Ewan dead in the eye. “But you are. You’re the only thing.”

“Who is your best friend?”

“You.”

“No, your best friend.”

“Ewan . . .”

“I’m serious. Before you met me, who is the person you talked to most?”

“I was never really the friend type. I mean, I spent time with people my own age, but I wasn’t really close with any of them.”

“Why not?”

“We have . . . the people I live with, I mean . . . different . . . values.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means we believe in different things. I live out in the sticks. Way out in the Hill Country. You know how folks out there can be. They put a different premium on people. Under the right circumstances some of them are very nice. Under the wrong ones they’d burn you to save their own skin. I can’t live that way.”

“Where do you live now?”

“I still live out there. With my uncle.”

Ewan stroked Nora’s hair, causing her to cuddle closer. “Not your parents?”

“No,” she said. “I never knew them. My dad died before I was born. My mom left me with my uncle shortly after. I don’t remember her at all.”

“You don’t remember your parents? At all?”

“Please, Ewan. Don’t make fun of me. This is why I don’t—”

“Who’s making fun? You really don’t remember your parents?”

“No.”

Ewan shook his head. “Neither do I.”

A small glimmer of a tear welled in the corner of Nora’s eye. She smiled. “See,” she said. “I told you we were made for each other.” The two kissed.

“So you still live out there with your uncle?”

She nodded. The staccato of rain rapped loudly on the window. The storm was getting stronger.

“If this gets any worse, you’ll have to spend the night.”

“There are worse fates I could imagine,” she said. “I have the best dreams when I sleep here.”

“What do you dream about?”

“You.”

“What do you dream about when you’re not dreaming about me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“The kind wondering what you dream about. What’s ticking inside you, you know?”

“Well, what do you dream about?”

“It’s weird.”

“Weird?”

“You know how most people dream about things like blue puppies or showing up for school in their underwear or going strange places with people they only know from work?”

“I guess.”

“Well, I don’t dream about any of that. I dream about the woods. About running away from tiny men or holding hands with a little girl or monsters made out of rock. I dream about the same things over and over again. They never change. It’s not like I dream about these little men chasing me through the city or the supermarket. It’s always the woods. I always dream about the woods. And nothing else.”

“What do you think your dreams are trying to tell you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe they’re telling you that you need to leave.”

“Leave? No. I’ve been having them as long as I can remember.”

“Well, then. Maybe that’s what I’m telling you.”

“That I should leave?”

“That maybe we should,” she said.

“There’s a lot you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

She nodded.

“And you don’t trust me enough to tell me?”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s things you’d best not know.”

“About you?”

“About where I come from.”

“Why can’t I know about it?”

“Because if there are things I’d rather forget, why on earth would I want someone else remembering them?”

“Sometimes weights are better carried by two.”

“You read that on a greeting card, didn’t you?”

Ewan smirked, busted. “It might have been a comic strip.”

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re incredible.”

“Run away with me.”

“What?”

Nora sat up, taking Ewan’s hands in hers, staring, unblinking, into his eyes. “Run away with me. We’ll take your band to L.A. and go all the way. Let’s just get out of here and never look back.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Losing all this.”

“No, why do you want to leave?”

“Because you’re never going to be the man you want to be washing dishes in a bar. And I’m never going to be the girl you want me to be living here.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“Oh my God. I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“Nora, I love you.”

“Tell me you need me.”

“Nora, I need you.”

“Tell me you’re gonna be a rock star.”

“I’m gonna be a rock star.”

“Run away with me.”

“Okay. After our next show, if we tear the roof off the place, we’ll talk to the boys.”

Nora bounced up and down, clapping her hands. “We’re going to do this?”

“If the show goes well.”

“Then it better go well. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“You really want to do this?”

“More than anything.”