• chapter seventeen •

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked at the digital alarm clock. Next to the time, today's date was flashing in neon green. 20 July. With a smile, I threw off the comforter and ran towards my phone to see if I had a birthday message from Liam.

I wasn't very excited about turning eighteen. Birthdays had started losing their charm as I grew older. When I was ten, I would start preparing for the day a month in advance. It was probably my favorite day of the year, because I didn't have to study, and I could eat as much junk food as I wanted, and I could invite friends over.

But now the only reason for my excitement was the message from Liam. Even though he had come back and didn't really need to send me a message, I knew he had, so that I could wake up and see it first thing in the morning.

It was a long one. By the time I was done reading it, there was a huge idiotic grin on my face.

I texted him: let's go for a walk?

He didn't reply for a while, so I put down the phone and took a bath. When I came out, my phone pinged. I picked it up.

Liam: I'm still in Paris. Flight got delayed. Please don't hate me.

I stared at the tiny screen in shock.

Me: What the hell! I thought you were coming home yesterday?
Liam: Told you. Flight got delayed. I'm sorry.
Liam: I'll be home by tonight.

I didn't reply.

Liam: you there?

I threw the phone onto the bed. It pinged three more times, but I ignored it and went for my walk alone. The weather was nice. There were puddles on the pavement; it had probably rained in the night. I kicked, and water splashed everywhere. I kicked again and again till all the water in the puddle had spread over the pavement. Then I felt silly, so I went back home, got my headphones and went jogging.

On reaching Ashley's house, I stopped and lied down in the yard on my back. The sun was beating down on me; there was a thin layer of sweat on my upper lip and my under-arms were pretty wet, but I didn't budge for an hour.

Then I sensed some movement. I turned my head slightly, and Ash was standing over me with a watering can in her hands. She was saying something. A single drop from the can dripped onto my neck. The water was cold.

She put down her can. I took off my headphones. She jumped on top of me while I was still lying and hugged me. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks," I said, giving her a watery smile.

She frowned. "Something wrong? You don't look happy." She sat up.

I snorted. "What is there to be happy about?"

"You're turning eighteen! If I were you, I would be jumping all over the place. You're an adult now! You can do whatever you want and no one can say anything about it. Not even, you know, your parents." She looked down and played with the grass, knowing it was a sensitive topic. I thought about it and realized what she meant. My parents couldn't force me to do anything now. I was free to pursue art, I was free to go wherever I wanted to. I felt liberated. Then I came back to the present and my smile vanished.

"Liam still hasn't come back, Ash. I'm so angry. And I can't even blame him. But I'm angry at him."

She stood up and took my headphones and iPod. "Look, you can't lie here all day." She picked up the watering can and tilted it so that the spout was over my face, pouring the cold water all over me. I scrambled up quickly. "Oh my God, you—"

She was laughing so hard, hands on her stomach, that I had to laugh too. She looked at me. "Finally, you're smiling."

"Yeah." I picked up the can. "I'll water your plants. Go get me something to eat."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that an order?"

"Yep. I'm an adult so I can order you around."

She giggled. "Alright." She went inside, and soon came the sound of cutlery being moved around in the kitchen. Her voice drifted to my ears. When I looked, she was talking to someone on the phone, telling them to come over to her house. She was smiling when she hung up.

It's Liam! I thought happily. He was just playing a prank on me, and he's come back, and he's going to surprise me.

When I was almost done watering, strong hands grabbed my waist and lifted me up. It was a boy's touch. "Liam!" I cried joyfully. Someone laughed, and my spirits went crashing down again.

"I'm not Liam," Zack said, turning me around and hugging me. "Happy birthday."

I felt angrier than before somehow. "Thanks." I hugged him brusquely and went back to watering.

"What a genuine thank you." He laughed. "You're very pissed off, aren't you?"

"Hm."

"We're taking you out for a movie."

"Not interested."

"We can sit at home and play games."

"No."

"Look, instead of throwing tantrums you should enjoy your day."

I turned my head to look at him. "I'm in a bad mood."

"I can see that. Do you really want to spend your eighteenth birthday like this? There is something to be happy about: you're legal. So you and he can have a... hot night of passion." He winked at me. "And I talked to Liam, by the way, he says he'll come home today, probably by evening. So cheer up."

Yeah, he'd said that in his text. I remembered. I smiled.

After the movie, I went back home and opened my laptop. I had more than 50 messages on Skype, from Sharon, Sana, Sam, mom and dad, and Ryan. I frowned and opened his message first. He'd sent me a sweet, long message, evoking a warm feeling inside me. I thanked him and opened my chat with Sharon.

Sharon: You there?
Sharon: You come online so rarely.
Sharon: We hardly talk. I hate you.
Sharon: Anyway.
Sharon: I have great news. Call me when free.
Sharon: And look at this pic Ryan posted on Facebook.

I had deleted my Facebook account long ago, because I found it boring, so Sharon had started sending me pics daily to keep me updated about what was going on in the world. It began with 2-3 pictures at first, but ever since I'd jokingly referred to her messages as the Facebook newspaper, she'd started sending me 10 photos a day to live up to that name.

In the photo, Ryan was sitting on the bench with a pretty girl, kissing her cheek. I smiled. So he'd moved on. Good. I was just about to call her when she called me. I picked up.

"YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT I HAVE TO TELL YOU! YOU WILL DIE!" she screamed breathlessly. I held the phone away from my ear.

"It's my birthday," I reminded her. "You're supposed to wish me first."

"Ugh. Do I have to?"

"Yes," I said.

"Ew. No. You suck. Okay, here's the good news. Drumroll. Dramatic music." She took a breath. "I got accepted at New York University!"

"What! You what!" I yelled. "We're going to college together!"

"First you have to get accepted. Did you get your letter yet?"

"No! And it doesn't matter! I'm going to New York with Liam anyway!"

"I can't wait to meet you again!" she said. "Acha, can we talk tomorrow? It's 2 a.m. and I'm sleepy."

"Sure." We disconnected. I replied to the other messages, and I called mom. We had a long conversation. It was the same cycle: she told me she missed me, then she forced me to talk to Stan (who obviously had a sore throat. I could hear it in his voice, that idiot. It was probably all the ice-cream that he ate on his birthday. Had I been home right now, mom's attention would have been snatched and I would've been left all alone as always. But honestly it wasn't any different now. Liam still wasn't here. No one cared about me) and then I had to talk to dad.

And then I fell back onto the pillows and conked out. When I woke up, it was 7 p.m. There was a throbbing above my left eyebrow. I massaged it with two fingers, and looked out of the window. The sky was red. Soft, warm air made the curtains flutter. A bird squawked as it flew homewards.

I pressed my lips together. The day had ended. Liam was still not here.

Whatever, I thought, picking up a novel. There was nothing he or I could do about it. For the rest of the day I sat on the couch outside and either read, or looked at the color of the sky, which had changed pretty quickly. Grey clouds had gathered and lightning was cracking. I hoped it would rain. I could sit on the back porch and enjoy the weather, feeling the drops splatter onto my bare feet. I used to do that all the time as a kid. I would sit on the window-sill and let my legs hang down. It would scare the shit out of mom, because we lived on the fourth floor.

The doorbell rang, and automatically I looked at the clock. It was 11:30 p.m. and it was dead quiet. Who could it be? The person rang the bell twice again, impatiently, and I got up to answer the door.

My mouth dropped open.

Liam stood wearing his fake glasses, holding a brown paper bag with a delicious, greasy stain in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He looked tired, and his eyes were red and sleep-deprived. And I somehow knew that he'd come straight to my place after his flight had landed. All my anger at him was suddenly replaced by guilt.

"Hi." He smiled at me. Before he could say anything else, I threw my arms around him. He chuckled. "Does that mean you forgive me? Can I come in?"

I pulled back to glare at him. "Forgive you? What did you do that needs to be forgiven? I'm so stupid. It wasn't even your fault that the flight got delayed and I was mad at you all day long. I'm such a bitch."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you ever say that again." He walked to the centre table and put down the stuff. Then he opened his arms. "Now I can hug you properly."

I laughed and hopped over to him, and he kissed me. My heart pounded against my ribcage. It felt so good after one whole week.

"I got wine from Paris," he mumbled against my lips, "for my eighteen-year-old girl."

"Awesome," I mumbled back, and we kissed again.

Then he looked at the clock. "Oh. Shit. There's just half an hour left for your birthday to get over." He picked me up and carried me to the backyard. The sky was very dark now. I could smell rain. He put me down on the grass. "Sit here and close your eyes. Do not open them till I tell you to."

"Okay." I sat quietly and tried to listen. He went in. I heard the paper bag being crumpled, and clinking of glasses from the kitchen. A match was struck. His footsteps became louder, and I heard him sit down in front of me. "Open."

I did. There was a plate in front of me which had a big cheeseburger. On top of that, a candle was flickering. On the side there were two tall wine glasses, containing a sparkling liquid. The burger smelled like heaven.

I didn't know what to say. My eyes watered a little. "You are," I said, "the best-est-est guy ever."

He smiled, and his eyes twinkled, and tiny crinkles appeared by them. And I fell in love with him all over again. "Make a wish before the wax drips onto the burger."

"Yeah." I closed my eyes. There were so many things I could've wished for— to be the most famous artist, to get rid of Mary somehow, to meet Sharon and Sana soon. But instead, I wished that the two of us could stay together forever, and blew out the candle.

He took it out of the burger and we ate it together, bite by bite, with the wine. I would describe its taste to you, but I don't know how to capture it with words, so I won't.

We lied down next to each other, supine, and looked at the sky. The color was so beautiful: sort of purplish-orange, even though the orange was because of the pollution. Lightning cracked. "It's gonna rain," he remarked. A drop fell. "If I lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

I smiled at the reference. "As if I can say no to you."

The drizzle changed to rain. I closed my eyes and felt the drops splatter onto my face and hands. There was the peaceful pitter-patter sounds of drops falling on rooftops. My hair got wet and stuck to my neck, and my clothes clung to my skin.

"Pluviophile," I said randomly, "It means 'a lover of the rain'."

He got up and ran. "Catch me if you can!" I laughed. "No, I'm serious, Hazelnut."

So I got up and chased after him, and jumped onto his back. He carried me around for a while, and took my hand and then we ran together against the rain. The cold drops slapped our faces, but we just kept going till we reached the end of the yard. I couldn't stop laughing. At first he held my waist to support me, but then I probably became annoying so he kissed me to shut me up. I kissed him back with all I had, entirely lost in the feeling. His fingers stroked the skin on my back very slightly, and then his hand crept up my shirt. I grew weak down the knees. Only when he reached my bra strap did I realize what was happening. "Liam." I touched his arm. "Not now."

He nodded and pulled his hand out.

When we were sitting on the back porch, I stuttered nervously, "I... um... I'm sorry. It's just that I've never done that with anyone before." I didn't even know why I'd stopped him. It felt good. I had liked the feel of his fingers caressing my skin. Maybe I'd just reflexively said no. That made no sense, though: lying takes time, but people reflexively tend to say the truth: and the truth was that I wanted him. I really did. And had he tried that again, I would have let him.

He put an arm around me. "You don't have to apologize. I was expecting you to stop me anyway." His lips stretched into that adorable half smile, and nothing more was said on the topic.

He touched the chain around my neck with one finger. "You've never told me much about Ryan."

"What do you want to know?" I asked quietly.

"Anything. Your fondest memory of him."

I twisted my damp hair into a knot and thought. "Um... he... promised me he'd be the first one to wish me on my sixteenth birthday. So... it was midnight and I was sleeping. He called, telling me to come outside. So I snuck out of my flat and he was sitting on the staircase, holding a muffin in his hands which had a candle on it. Something like your burger." I smiled. "I had to sneak out whenever I wanted to see him. Dad didn't allow us to be in a relationship. He said it would distract us from studies. I'm so glad I'm not living with them anymore." I took a breath. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay."

"Does my locket annoy you?" I asked.

"Of course it does. It's weird that you're half mine and half his. But I have no right to tell you to take it off."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm completely yours, you idiot." He sat quietly for a while. When I looked at him, he was staring at me. "What?"

"I was just thinking about how shy you were when we first met. Now you're a totally different person."

"Yeah. I'm not shy with people with I love." I reached out for his hand and twined his fingers with mine. "How's your novel going? Thought of a name yet?"

"Yeah: Frozen Hearts. I've written ten chapters already. All thanks to you." He kissed the back of my hand. "Will you read it after I'm done?"

"Of course."

"Do you want to go in? I'm staying here tonight."

I brightened up. "Really?"

He stood up and turned his back to me. "Hop on." He gave me a bumpy piggyback ride to the bedroom. I took a lock of my half-dry hair between my fingers and tickled his neck with it. He chuckled. "Don't do that. We'll both fall down." But I did it again, and he threw me onto my bed and tickled me so hard that my stomach hurt from laughing. And it brought a sense of déjà vu. I thought back to the day we had our first kiss. I'd felt so nervous in the dark park, and Liam had said that we should sleep in the same bed, and he'd taken me to his room, and I'd tickled him when he'd kissed me too hard.

The unease of that day returned. I rolled off from under him and sat up. "Liam, when was the last time we saw Mary?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Why do you have to ruin it all the time by talking about her?"

"Why can't you ever take her seriously? Do you really think it is something we can ignore?"

He sighed. "I don't remember when we last saw her." He looked away, his lips pressed together, clearly annoyed.

It hurt me, but I ignored it. "It has been a month, at least. That's unusual. It's not right. She used to come all the time."

"Isn't it a good thing that she's not bothering us anymore? I just don't understand why you have to talk about her like an idiot."

I looked at him, and this time my hurt must've been pretty evident because he sat up quickly and pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry," he mumbled against my hair.

"Why doesn't it bother you? I can't understand her, I can't do anything about her, I don't know how to make her go away. It's frustrating. She can do whatever she wants, and we're powerless. And you're not even willing to discuss it."

He listened to me wordlessly, his chin resting on my head. I wanted to cry, but I took a shaky breath and calmed myself. My hands curled into fists. "That bitch," I said through gritted teeth. "When I see her, I will strangle her."

"Nice idea. The only problem is that your hands would go straight through her."

I laughed, and my anger melted away slowly. "But, it's not possible that she'd suddenly go away on her own. I think that she's waiting for something. Planning something. Saving her energy for something big." And all of a sudden, I didn't feel very safe anymore. I felt insecure. What was she gonna do? I couldn't even imagine.

"Could you lend me dry clothes?" he asked, pulling me out of my chain of thoughts.

I gave him the biggest pair of pyjamas I owned. He took off his shirt and pulled me closer under the sheets.

"Will you sing me to sleep?" I asked.

"I can't sing, I swear."

"Please?"

After a pause, he cleared his throat and started singing softly. He was totally off-key, but I loved it anyway. Just hearing his voice was enough to put me to sleep.

∞