Authors: Melissa Marr
Eva
I
T FEELS LIKE ONLY
a few minutes, but it was almost an hour ago that I started kissing Nate. He’s the one to pull away, but instead of telling me again that this is a mistake, he says, “If we’re dating, we’re
dating
. Going out places, and doing this right.”
“Right.” I’ve never been kiss-addled before, but I feel like I have a buzz from him. I wonder if he does too because I’m fairly sure his words don’t make any sense.
He moves so he’s beside me on my bed, instead of half on top of me, and kisses my temple. When I try to slip my hand back under his shirt where it was before he pulled away, he catches my wrist and says, “No.”
“No what?”
“If we’re dating, we have to go slower than this.” He has an arm around me, and he kisses my head again. “We need to be like . . . normal about it.”
I want to laugh, but it would be rude. “You realize that it’s not like there’s a normal time between dating and sex, right? It’s about the two people. If we wanted to have sex today—”
“Today?” He sounds nervous.
“So you’re saying we can date, but we should just kiss . . . and not ‘like that’?” I turn my head and kiss his chest.
He puts his hand on my cheek and tilts my head so I’m looking at him before he continues. “I don’t want to fuck this up by going too fast.”
I put my hand on his and say, “How about you trust me to decide how fast is too fast for me, and I’ll trust you to decide how fast is too fast for you, and if we end up on the same page at some point,
that’s
when we go further?”
“Fine, but I’m not ready. Not with you.” He swallows. “This is going to sound stupid, but I want to wait until it’s not
just
sex.”
I almost tell him that it wouldn’t be, not even today. “So we wait till it’s making love.”
He looks even more uncomfortable when I use that phrase, but he doesn’t try to suggest that he meant something else. He studies my face like he’s expecting a rejection before asking, “That’s okay?”
I stretch up to kiss him before saying, “Very, and it’s not stupid.”
We’re still cuddled up together talking and sometimes kissing when my parents get home a little while later. Nate doesn’t quite leap out of bed when he hears the door open, but it’s close.
“Relax, Nate.”
“I don’t want them to think—”
“That we’re dating?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want them to hate me.” He rubs his head. “I didn’t know if you wanted them to know.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” I shake my head and call out, “Mom? Could you come up here?”
In a matter of moments, she walks into my room. Her eyes are a little wide, and she’s studying me not-so-subtly. “Is everything okay? Are
you
okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Everything’s fine.”
I can see the tension flee as her shoulders visibly relax. In a split second, she goes from worried to the seemingly emotionless woman I’ve seen most of my life. I know now that it’s a mask, but it’s a convincing one. Then she glances at Nate, who is standing awkwardly beside my bed, and then at my bed. The pillow and comforter are still compressed from where he was lying beside me.
“Do you mind if I see Nate? Go out with him?”
Her expression doesn’t change, but Nate’s does. He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
My mother scowls at me and then turns her scowl on Nate. “There’s a killer out there, Nathaniel. You can’t take her
out
until he’s caught.”
“Can we date
here
?” I clarify.
My mother frowns. “Why would you ask that? I’ve never had to approve your dates before.”
I watch Nate’s expression switch from nervous to poleaxed.
“Because you hired Nate.”
“But you were friends first.” She looks at Nate and asks, “Are you still going to do the job I hired you to do?”
“Yes,” Nate says.
“Well, then, I see no reason you can’t ask my daughter out.” My mother reaches out and pats my leg. “It’s sweet that you asked, but I think you scared Nate a bit. I’m going to go fix dinner. Are you staying?”
“Not tonight, ma’am,” he says. “I’m heading out in a minute.”
She nods and sails out of the room with the same calm expression that she usually has. I like it much better than the alarm I saw when she walked into my room. Nate watches the empty doorway, and I hold in my laughter at Nate’s stunned expression until I figure my mother is downstairs. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m laughing at her.
Nate shakes his head. Then he walks over to the bed again, and I reach up and take his hand. I tug, and he bends so I can kiss him.
“Text me so I know you’re home safe?”
“I’m going to Durham to see Aaron. I’ll have my phone, and I’ll be safe.”
He’s still bent down so our lips are close together, so I kiss him one more time before I say, “Will you still text me when you get to Durham?”
“Okay.” He kisses me this time, and I want to pull him back down to the bed. I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling like I could spend forever just kissing him.
Nate steps backward and shakes his head. It seems surreal that he feels as overwhelmed as I do, but when I look at him, there’s no denying how affected he obviously is. I feel different, powerful, maybe more so because
he
wants to wait.
He walks out, and a few moments later my mother comes in and asks, “Are you eating up here or do you need help coming down?”
“Up here if it’s okay.”
She nods and goes to the hallway. “Up here.”
A few moments later, I’m stunned to see my father walk in with a tray of food. It’s not the tray, or my father, but the fact that he’s brought plates for three people. “I told you,” he says to my mother.
“You were right.” She laughs and walks out of the room again.
“Mom?”
“Be right back,” she calls back. Dad follows her.
When they return, he’s carrying a card table and two folding chairs, and she has a second tray with drinks and condiments. I watch speechlessly as they set up a makeshift dining room beside my bed. Once the second, smaller tray is empty, my mother sets it on my lap and puts my plate and drink on it.
“So, what’s this about you and the Bouchet boy?” my father asks.
I blink at him. I’m not sure he’s ever asked me about a boy in my entire life. I open my mouth, realize I’m not sure what to say, and then close it.
“I told your father about my new parenting plan,” my mother offers with a small smile. “I read an article at lunch today that says talking about the day’s events is critical. You weren’t dating Nate yesterday, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So it’s today’s events.” She nods once and takes a sip of her lemonade.
Both of my parents are watching me, and I think they look a little nervous. This is new territory for all of us. My father obviously follows her lead on parenting, although I never realized how much until now. I take a deep breath, and then I start to tell them a slightly modified version of the day, of my feelings for Nate, of how he thinks I’m beautiful even with all these fresh scars, of how he’s never had a girlfriend. They listen. They don’t ask awkward questions, even though I know my mother saw the proof that he was next to me in my bed. I don’t tell them the death visions part or the fact that I have a newly discovered sex drive. I’m not sure either of those details are things I’ll be telling them ever, but it’s sort of awesome to talk about all the rest.
For a day that started pretty awfully, I think, perhaps, there is a little bit of light in the darkness. I’m dating the boy I’ve been dreaming of for years, and I feel certain I have stopped the killer, at least for tonight.
Yes, perhaps there is some light in all of this. And I am thankful for it. Without it I fear I might lose my mind. My parents are chatting about Nate and their workday with me. I don’t completely stop worrying about the killer, but I push the worries to the back of my mind to deal with tomorrow.
Judge
I
TRIED TO PRETEND
that CeCe was Eva, but that didn’t work. Eva’s skin feels softer. I tried to pretend she’s Amy, but that wasn’t quite right either. I kissed CeCe, and she let me put a hand under her shirt, but she wouldn’t let me take it off or even unhook her bra. I even tried to listen to her talk about some marathon thing she’s doing in Raleigh. I nodded, and I smiled, and I tried to listen. My big reward? Kissing.
I miss Amy.
After it’s pretty obvious that CeCe isn’t going to budge, I drive her home.
When I pull into her drive, she leans over to kiss my cheek. “Call me,” CeCe says as she closes the car door.
I drive back out to the lake, thinking about Amy. I miss her. She looked so content before she died. I think that the secret is the water. It made her pure, washed away her sins like a baptism.
When I reach the lake, I park in an area a bit away from where Amy and I spent our last night together. It’s not night yet, so there are a few people out walking along the trails—but not as many as there usually are. I noticed that earlier. I think that’s why CeCe only let me get as far as I did. Maybe if it were darker, she’d go further.
I feel different here. I’ve driven out to the spot where Micki died, but it doesn’t excite me like this does. Micki’s death simply wasn’t as personal. Amy was special.
Being with Amy was the Lord’s will. The signs were there. She was the inversion of Eva: the whore to Eva’s virgin. Robert touched her because Eva was too pure. It only makes sense that I would too; after all, Eva’s mine. Robert was my stand-in, like Amy was Eva’s.
I wonder if I have to kill Robert so the good in him comes back to me. Amy had parts of Eva, and now that she’s dead, Eva reached out and touched me. It’s like the parts that were trapped inside Amy joined Eva.
Because Amy died, Eva asked me to touch her. She gave me a mission.
I think about Robert. We’ve been friends our whole lives, but I’m not sure I want his traits in me. I like who I am. I’m not sure what to do about him.
The sound of the waves makes me think about Amy-Eva. Now that Amy’s gone, I see that she was a
part
of Eva. That’s why being with her mattered. That’s why she had to be sacrificed. The Lord works in mysterious ways. I didn’t quite understand how complex Eva was until today when she touched me.
I pull off my shirt, shoes, and socks. I set the shoes side by side on the passenger seat, roll my socks together, and fold my shirt the way I always do. A quick glance outside lets me know no one is nearby right now. Barefoot in only my trousers, I get out of the car and walk toward the water. I can almost see her there on the ground. Amy-Eva looking up at me, satisfied with how happy I made her. I unbutton my trousers, fold them neatly, and drop them on the ground.
Once I wade naked into the water, I sigh. I wonder how long it will be until Eva looks at me like Amy-Eva did. Soon, I expect, especially if I do a good job with Madison.
Eva
T
HE NEXT MORNING
, I
’M
awake before Nate arrives. After my mother shows him into the kitchen, where I’m having a far healthier breakfast than I want, she announces that she’s going to work at home for a couple hours, and then she gives us a strange look and asks, “Are you dating in the house today?”
For a moment, Nate stares at her with the sort of expression on his face that makes it hard not to laugh. He recovers quickly though. “We hadn’t made any plans.”
“LeeAnn is coming by to cook, so if you want, you could have a faux restaurant date,” Mom offers.
I make a shooing gesture at her. “Go work on . . . whatever it is you do.”
She laughs. “Organizing my schedule and your father’s next month, so we can maximize our time at home to actively parent.”
I groan and lower my head to the table. “You’re going to kill Dad and me too, Mom. Relax.”
“Eva Elizabeth Tilling, you do not get to say that!”
At the sound of her voice, I look back up at her.
“You could have died. I’m allowed to be overinvolved for a while. The article I read about parenting after traumatic events is very clear.” She folds her arms over her chest. “We need to be here for you. You could have nightmares, stomachaches, depression, or a plethora of other things. We have to be attentive to you so we notice changes. Shared meals and a healthy diet are important, but listening is
crucial
.”
My mother looks like she might start crying, and I realize that I’m staring at her open-mouthed. I’m not sure how to deal with this new version of my mother. I know my accident scared her; it scared me too. We’re staring at each other, but not speaking.
After a few moments, Nate’s voice interrupts the tense silence. “I’m going to go look for a movie on demand. Maybe we can have a movie date.”
“Check the collection in the media room first,” Mom suggests.
Once he leaves, my mother flops into a chair. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t,” I promise. “I’m scared too, you know? The murderer is killing my friends, and he sent flowers to
me
. He carved
my name
on Amy. I get being scared. Really, I do.”
My mother folds her hands together on the table in front of her, and I reach over and put my hand on top of hers. We sit in silence for a few moments before she says, “Jessup is supposed to be a safe town. Your grandfather is coming home in two days, and I know it’s silly, but I want to be able to tell him we’re doing everything right. I want him to know we’re keeping you safe.”
“You are.”
My mother nods. “You’re not suicidal, are you?”
“No.”
“Stomachaches?”
“No.”
“Nightmares?”
“No
.” I smile at her. “I’m okay. I’m scared, and I wish I hadn’t seen those pictures of Amy. I wish I knew why the killer is targeting my friends . . . and me. I’m safe here though. I’m coping fine with this and with the accident. Grandfather Cooper has nothing to complain about. He’s probably worried about you as much as me.”