I stepped out of the back door, dolled up in a frilly red and white checkered dress. Roses dotted the hem and lace dripped off the sleeves, coupled with a scarlet hair bow and dainty flats. My black hair was in ringlets reaching my shoulder, gray eyes smoldering like an angry fire.
“I look ridiculous,” I declared with a stomp, sulking on the porch.
People flurried around the property of our big, white, country home, arranging chairs and garlands, constructing an isle and placing cakes. My older sister, Kathleen was getting married under the huge, hundred year old oak tree in our yard. The colors were red and white. Kathleen loved roses.
I hated them.
“You don’t look ridiculous, you look adorable,” Mother said, smiling at me, but looking through me.
“Mother, I want to change.”
“You’re not going to.”
“No one else has to wear this. Kathleen gets to wear a pretty long, white one.”
“She’s the bride. Are you getting married? No. I certainly hope not either, you’re only twelve.”
“Mother…”
“No whining, Zoe,” Mother was surveying the lawn, watching the caretakers as they placed flowers and straightened food dishes and decorated the altar.
“But-“ I started.
“Zoe, please go get that boy away out of the tree. I wonder which side of the family he’s on...” she muttered and walked away, clicking the wood with her heels.
I looked at the oak and spotted you, snaking up the trunk and clunked after you. It took me a while to reach the tree in my ridiculous shoes, but when I did I glared.
“Hey!” I called.
You looked down, “What is that?”
“Get down off my tree! You’ll hurt it!”
“It’s a tree,” you scoffed, “it can’t get hurt.” But you slid down anyway and landed at my feet. You stood almost a foot taller than me with leering blue eyes and a charismatic smile.
“You look frilly,” you said.
“You look like trouble,” I snapped.
“Someone’s cranky,” you said, and flicked my collar.
I slapped your hand away, “Who invited you anyway?”
“No one. I came on my own.”
“What? You can’t be here. Go home. This is a wedding. My sister’s wedding.”
“Your sister?” you asked, seeming confused.
“Yes, she’s in the house getting ready but you can’t see her; it’s bad luck.”
“What do you mean? Of course I can. I’m not the groom. It’s only bad luck if the groom sees her before the wedding.”
I gave you a defiant stare, “Go away.”
“After I get some cake,” you said.
“No! You can’t have any the wedding hasn’t even started!”
“Well then I guess I’ll stay,” you reasoned.
“You’re not even dressed nice,” I sneered.
You looked down at your dirty, baggy pants and splotched white t-shirt. Your fingers threaded around your suspenders, “That’s okay. A pretty little lady’s going lend me something to wear,”
“Who?” I asked.
You rolled your eyes, “you!”
“And who said I was going do that?” I said matter-of-factly.
“I’ll give you a kiss if you do,” you bargained, grinning.
For the first time, my cheeks started to flush red. You brushed the coffee-brown hair from your eyes.
“Who said I wanted a kiss from you?” I questioned, with less ferocity.
“I bet you’ve wondered what it felt like, watching your sister kiss her man,” you said tauntingly, walking around me in a slow circle.
“I’ll bring you some clothes, but only because I don’t want you looking like a homeless boy at my sister’s wedding!” I announced. Something in your face twitched, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. Before I turned around my eyes fell to your lips and I swallowed nerves, scampering back to the house.
***
I watched you in my older brother’s old tuxedo, from when he was just a boy. You were laughing and telling jokes like you knew these people, like they were your family. They thought you were charming.
I didn’t know what to think of you. My mind was reeling and I could barely sit through Kathleen’s wedding. I felt your eyes slide to my face when they kissed, I could almost feel you grinning.
My heart was skipping like a frightened rabbit.
As soon as I could, I bolted for the oak tree, while everyone else was dancing and eating and congratulating. I scaled the tree and sat on the highest branch I could, kicked off my shoes and wormed out of the stockings. I untied the bow in my hair and shook out my curls, pulling the frilly dress up over my head and letting it fall. It hooked in one of the lower branches.
I swung my legs back and forth, shivered in the breeze, clad only in a white tank top and light sleeping shorts. I watched the sun set behind the hills, the apple trees in the distance whisper fruity advice.
I didn’t hear you climb up the tree. But there you were sitting right next to me, closer than I had ever been to a boy.
You were holding my dress, having retrieved it from where it was stuck. “Why’d you take it off? You were so adorable.”
“I didn’t like it,” I muttered, still staring at the skyline. “It’s pretty up here,” I spoke up again, feeling unusual in the silence.
“You’re prettier,” you shrugged, and even then I picked up on how smooth you were.
I didn’t say anything, just tipped my head the other way. Your hand fell on mine and I snatched it away.
Your fingers pulled my chin towards you. “Don’t I owe you something?”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I huffed.
You leaned into me, staring into my eyes. Your brow furrowed, “I’ve never seen eyes this color,”
“Is that bad?” I asked, suddenly worried.
You shook your head, “Not bad. They’re perfect.”
You came in closer and my heart was thudding and my palms were sweaty as I squeezed my eyes tight and waited.
There was crackling from below us and suddenly the branch dipped and snapped, our bodies cart wheeling through the leaves. I screamed in panic, clutching onto the bark and loose twigs. Almost before I hit, I grabbed a branch and swung around kneeling in the tree like a monkey.
I watched you thud to ground and heard you cuss.
“You alright?” I called.
“Yeah, dammit,” you muttered rolling onto your stomach and cussing into the grass.
“Ok good, because I tho-“I was mid-sentence when my branch severed and I tumbled back down the tree, screaming so loud I thought my own eardrums would burst. My arms and legs skid along twigs and nipped at my skin. I grabbed a last trunk just enough to ease my fall before I fell to a soft warm ground.
Not until I moved did I realize I had fallen on you, and I quickly stumbled off you and to the grass.
“Sorry!” I whimpered.
You looked at me from one eye that peeked from your position “Good thing you’re not that heavy…”
I scowled, “Thanks.”
Soon, you sat up with your head between your knees, “Did you get any cake?”
“No,” I said cautiously.
“It’s your sister’s wedding. You should eat some.”
“I don’t want cake. Why do you want me to have cake?”
“Never mind,” you said quietly, picking out blades of grass.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, but your rumbling stomach made that clear.
“Don’t worry about it,” you said, and I could tell you were embarrassed.
“No really, I’ll got get you some,” I insisted..
“Please, don’t. Just forget it.”
I reached inside the hole in the tree, where your clothes were and wormed my fingers under them where there was a stash of my favorite peaches, “Here,” and I presented you with two.
“Thanks!” you said through a mouthful, juice spilling down your chin.
I sat next to you, “So what’s your name?”
“Thomas,” you said.
“Tom?”
“No, Thomas,” you gave me a firm stare.
“And your last name?”
“What does a last name matter? I don’t know yours and you don’t know mine. No one needs them.”
“I bet you can’t even guess my first name,” I jeered.
You stood up and offered me your hand, which I took, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. You only smirked.
You took off my brother’s things, right before me, standing only in gray underwear. You noticed me staring and started to turn away when I said, “You’re not embarrassed are you?”
You looked back at me and said, defensively, “Of course, not,” and reached inside an opening in the trunk to take out your clothes. You put them back on in front of me and started to walk away, “Your name is Zoe,” you called indolently, halfway down the hill, not even bothering to look back, setting off for the apple trees.

After that, days blew away like a leaves in the wind.
The summer of seventh grade ended and I went into eighth, my curly black hair long down my back, a new book bag, new dresses and shoes.
Everyday I walked in my bare feet. It was August and hot but I didn’t mind because I loved the heat, and I loved the dirt.
The roads were made of gravel and dust. The school buses didn’t come out this far, so I had to walk to the bus. Right next to the stop was an old well where I would pull out a bucket and wash my feet before I put my shoes back on. It was early, right as the sun was coming up. Weeds grew up long and tall and cicadas buzzed in the morning. An abandoned Chevy sat in the undergrowth; trunks covered in mold barricaded it in the valley. A family of foxes lived beneath the roots of a giant, beautiful maple tree. I liked to watch them in my wait, gathering food for their babies.
I was sitting on the edge of the stone, dipping my feet in the bucket, listening for the little animals.
“Can’t wear shoes?” I heard a voice.
You stepped out of the darkness, wearing a raggedy shirt and holey pants. You carried a lunch pail but that was all.
“I don’t like shoes,” I mumbled, staring down at my own nice, lavender dress.
“Waiting for the bus?” you asked.
“Sure am,” I replied. I hadn’t seen you since the beginning of June. Anger steamed from my veins. I felt like you had abandoned me, “why didn’t you stop by?” I asked absentmindedly, plucking a pebble from wedged in-between stone.
You shrugged, “I was busy,”
I looked away from you, towards the rumbling bus coming up the street.
“But I wanted to,” you said quickly, “I wanted to see you again.”
“Look the bus is coming,” I directed, pointing to it.
“Have fun at school,” you grinned, but it didn’t touch your eyes.
“What? Aren’t you coming?” I asked.
“No,”
“Why not?”
“I’m just busy…” you said mysteriously, avoiding eye contact with me.
The bus grumbled to a stop and opened the doors, I looked back towards you but you had already slunk off into the trees.
***
Every morning for two years you came to see me, watched me wash the dirt from my feet. I don’t know what we spoke about, but it was never boring and you always knew what to say. You were clever, very clever. And wise, like you were an old man trapped in a boy’s body.
We talked and laughed and every morning I boarded the bus and every morning you didn’t. And you never told me where you went.
On the weekends I never saw you. Sometimes I would sit out on the tree branch and wait for you, watch the sun slink down the tree line. Watch the apple trees sway in the breeze. Consciously, I didn’t expect you to come, unconsciously I hoped you did.
When it started to get cold, the snow began to fall. And it didn’t stop. I trudged through the snow in clumsy boots I hated.
Father said it was a long winter ahead. Mother told us Kathleen wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas, for the second year in a row, so she went in my brother’s old room and sat on his bed, but she didn’t cry. She never cried.
I was waiting for the bus like I had every other morning when Aubry Jones came up the road, sled in hand.
“Hey Zoe!” he said.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. Aubry was always on the bus before me.
“Nothin! Didn’t ya hear? There’s no school! It’s a snow day! I’m going sledding down by your house, you know that big hill? Yeah! I’m going to sled down it!” He ran past me in excitement.
“Aubry!” I called after him.
“Yeah?”
“You tell my parents I’m at Hansi’s house won’t you?”
“Sure thing Zoe!”
I wasn’t going to go to Hansi’s house; I didn’t like her too much. I waited like I had every morning by the well. And ten minutes later there you were, shagging out of the trees.
“How’d I know you’d still be here?” you asked, beaming.
“You didn’t,” I contradicted.
“I heard it was a snow day for you. Aren’t you excited?”
“Well sure I am. Do you want to go sledding?” I asked.
You turned away from me. I hated when you did that. “I can’t.”
I stood up in front of you, still almost a foot shorter, “And why not?”
“It’s not a snow day for me!” you barked, “I got to go.”
“Well you stop right there Thomas or you can forget ever seeing me again!”
You sighed and looked back at me like we were some married couple having an argument.
“I want to know where you go everyday. I want to know why you don’t go to school. And if we were really friends you would tell me. I don’t even know your last name.”
“Didn’t I already tell you once? Last names don’t mean a damn thing.”
“Take me with you,” I pleaded.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, annoyed at me, “fine, but only for one day if it’ll quiet you up.”
I grinned, “Good,” and grabbed hold of your arm as you led me back into the woods.
***

The snow fell quiet around us as the stirring animals scurried along the Forrest floor. It took almost an hour for us to stop walking. We were still in the woods and I squirmed a little in my boots.
“Why are we in here?” I asked, alarmed, “why do you look like that?”
Your face was scrunched up in anticipation, “Zoë, I’m going to show you where I go, but I really don’t want you to get scared and run away. I want you to stay by me because I can protect you. Ok?”
I nodded slowly, my eyes wide.
“No, I want you to say you understand me.”
“I do.”
“You do what?”
“I understand you,”
“Ok, let’s go,” you parted the leaves and let me step out first.
Chimneys puffed out black smoke, striking against the white blizzard. The town was dainty, but unruly; the little houses dotted with thatched roofs and cobbled sidings. Wooden porches groaned under pressure from the heavy snow. Young children with dirt-black faces played in the slush.
You took my hand and we slid down the hill.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s…where I live. We’re a coal mining town.”
“But why don’t you go to school?” I persisted.
“Because my family needs me to work, to make money for us so we can eat. I don’t have time to go to school. School is a luxury.”
“A luxury!” I scoffed, thinking of how boring it was.
You just glared at me and led me through the town. Old men sat in rocking chairs, sipping hot tea and spitting out chewing tobacco. And they coughed. Everyone coughed. I asked you why and you told me it was the disease of a miner. It was because of the dust and soot floating around in the air; it gets inhaled into the lungs and makes it hard for people to breathe.
“You die because of it,” you clarified.
“Do you have it?” I asked.
“Nah,” you replied.
A skinny spotted mutt limped up to me, its eyes full of pleading. “What’s wrong with it?” I asked, panicky.
“Nothing,” you said, and shooed it away with your foot, like it was just usual business.
“It’s so skinny,” I murmured, watching it hobble away. I thought of the old basset hound we used to own, Honey, she was fat as a cow and lived her last days sleeping in the sun on our porch, under the fans. I would sit and pet her as Mother drank lemonade and Father listened to the radio. That was when Kathleen was young and innocent and my brother was still sending us letters.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
I had been staring into nothing, caught up in memories. You looked where I had unintentionally been gazing. It was a giant hole in a hill, dripping water. It was very ominous, how dark and damp it was. Railroad tracks led into it and wheeled carts sat off to the side, heaped in coal.
“See, that’s the shaft. That’s where all the miners go in. Right now it’s closed but it’ll be up and running soon. First time you go in you start out as a trapper. They open and close the ventilation door for mule drivers. We’ve got mules that pull the carts and-“
“Thomas!” I interrupted.
“What?” you blinked.
“Who is over there? What’s going on?” Across the small town, a group of men had formed in a circle, raising their fists and shouting. Some had signs but I was too far away and couldn’t read them.
“That’s a riot. You know, the Union. We’re protesting these low wages we got. It’s barely enough to get by and doesn’t account for all the hard work we do. I mean, our nails are worn down so far it hurts and miners catch the cough every day. The mine could collapse at any moment really, and the darkness is damaging to your eyesight.”
“Why do you do it then?” I wondered aloud.
“I don’t have a clue,” you kicked a piece of coal, bleeding black into the snow; “it’s the only thing we know.”
From the riot, the yells grew louder and people started to stagger back, toppling over each other.
“Come here boy! Or the grippe will get you!” ordered a woman to a little boy playing in the snow, he immediately ran back to her. Other children looked around, sensing the disturbance and ran back to their houses.
“Come on,” you commanded, and took my hand, “we’ve got to get out of here.”
We passed an open barn, where small to large wooden boxes sat. “What’re those?” I asked.
You glanced over and grimaced. “Please don’t ask me that. I don’t want to tell you.”
“They’re coffins aren’t they?” I asked, because I could see a shoe sticking indefinitely out of the barn, the body attached to it lying dead on a plank.
“I want to go home now,” I said, and could feel my breakfast rise up.
“I know, but I can see the Baldwin-Felts guards and we need to leave. I’m sorry Zoe, I should have never have brought you here. They’re coming for the Union.”
We fled from the town into the forest, men trailing behind and in front. I could see the guards, all dressed up in red uniforms, shooting and reloading their guns.
Yells rang out from all different side as I clutched onto your hand. A man right next to us was running so fast, and I was so scared, my mind barely registered that he’d been shot, until he fell to the ground and blood pooled out around him.
We ran and ran and ran and there it was. The old well and my bus stop. I slid down onto the ground heaving inside the well. I heaved until I was choking on dry air and I barely managed to gasp out a question, “Did- I – catch- the-disease?”
You collapsed beside me, laughter coming out in strangles, “No, no you couldn’t have.” You tried to wrap your arms around me, but I stumbled back in fear, still shaken.
I could see you were upset, “Please don’t be afraid. I asked you, I asked you not to be, no matter what you saw.”
“I’m going home,” I said, and stood up. I started to run, even though I was deathly tired already. I heard you calling my name but I didn’t care and I ran all the way home and I could have never known how bad that hurt you.

Sitting at the dinner table, I thought about you, while twisting my fork around.
“Zoe, why aren’t you eating?”
“Father, do you know of the coal mining town about an hour or so from here?”
“The one I know of is only about 20 minutes if you drive.”
“What happens in that town?”
Father shoved mashed potatoes into his mouth and thought. His full stomach made me think of the dog’s starving one and I looked away.
“What do you mean? It’s a miner town, so they go in the shafts and bring out coal. But lately I’ve been hearing of some kind of uprising over there. The bosses are trying to settle it down by sending out Baldwin- Felt guards, but I hear they’re a feisty bunch and they aren’t backing down.”
Mother had stopped chewing and was staring at Father. He took a long sip from his milk, before continuing, “They really need to resolve this. Before it gets out of hand. People can really get hurt you know, Zoe. I don’t want you going up there, you hear? When you go to the bus, just sit there like you always do and don’t go into the woods. Ok?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Alright, good, now that we understand,” he wiped his mustache and bussed his plate.
Mother looked at me and smiled, “Your Father’s right.”
“Mother?”
“Yes, darling?”
I wanted to ask her about what I should do, I was afraid of what would happen if I kept seeing Thomas. But I didn’t bring him up and she didn’t question me when I left the room, the short conversation dangling over our heads.
I was half asleep when I heard the tapping. I sat upright, like a bolt. My room was pitch dark. My Victorian dresser loomed in the corner, pink bed sheet pearly in the moonlight that streamed through the window. I listened longer and heard the tapping again, coming from the glass.
I stood up quietly and tip-toed over, opening the window. I was surprised to see a tree branch, scraping along the glass, making the sound. I closed it again, sealing out the frigid air. I went back to sleep.
And you were lying in my oak tree, feet propped up against the trunk. You didn’t want to scare me, but you yourself were too spooked to go back to your town. You hadn’t the heart to tell me that you didn’t have a family; that you had only been staying in a boarding house located near the opening of the mine shaft, working to earn money for food.
You were too embarrassed to admit it.
***

It was tenth grade year, and I was as excited as anything. I had gone a whole spring and summer without seeing you. But as much I wanted to, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were a constant thought in my head, like a dripping faucet I couldn’t turn off. I had not seen you in the mornings since the day I had run from you. It bothered me more than it should.
It was a slow Friday, and I had just hopped off the bus, and started to walk home.
I was just passing the shallow river when I spotted you sitting on top of a protruding boulder swaddling your feet in water.
“Thomas,” I said, with no emotion. I was simply stating my recognition of you.
You propped up from your stupor and looked straight at me. I noticed the backpack on your back and the many books spilled beside you.
“I really like to read,” you defended yourself, watching me.
“You go to school now?” I asked, mystified.
“Uh…yeah,” you uttered, still studying me, as if you couldn’t believe I was real.
“What year?”
You suddenly shifted, embarrassed.
“You can tell me,” I said lightly, “I won’t make fun.”
“Well, I only knew I little bit of reading and writing so they’ve placed me in the sixth grade, but I get tutored outside school. I’m old enough to be a junior, though.”
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“I was wandering through an old park when a nice old man saw me. He took me home and fed me and said I could stay a couple days and a couple days changed into weeks and then months and then he was adopting me. He’s a doctor. Dr. Jones. He has a wife. She’s real nice. Whoops, had a wife, she passed about a week ago. Now it’s just us….” You trailed off staring at me, “I’ve forgotten how pretty you are, Zoe.”
“Thanks,” I said, still emotionally disconnected. I felt as if my body was going into shock.
“Come, come sit with me. I want to look at you closer.”
Automatically, I put down my things and went to sit on the boulder with you. “How come you don’t ride the bus?” I asked, taking off my shoes and dipping my feet into the river.
“I like to walk,” you said simply, and we both lay back, resting together between the books. Grass and moss covered the boulder, while vines twined around the protruding end, and snaked into the water.
“I could walk with you,” I offered.
“That’d be nice.”
You didn’t dare bring up the Baldwin- Felts guards and I didn’t ask.
“It’s great that you’re staying with the doctor. I worried a lot about you,” I admitted.
“’I thought about you all the time,” you said, glancing at me from underneath your eyelashes.
I looked away, cheeks reddening.
“You know, I think about those two years we had, and I think they were some of the best I’ve known,”
“You can’t mean that,” I disagreed.
“I do mean it. I love being around you. Something about you makes me want to be near you, I can’t explain it, Zoe.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. Let’s swim?” I sat up and pointed to the river.
You were fidgeting with your pencil, when it popped out of your hand and landed in the water. “First one to get it wins?” you challenged.
“You’re on,” I grinned, and we took off our clothes. You stripped down to your underwear and I couldn’t help but to recall the day we met, when you wore my brother’s tuxedo.
My dress flew over my head, leaving me in a light, baby blue slip. We both hopped in the creek. It ran about four feet deep, so we were able to search for the pencil.
Of course you retrieved it first and held it up in victory. I came after you but you swam forward, dodging low branches draped in moss and flicking lily pads out of the way.
My feet skimmed the bottom of the creek, soft sand and smoothed pebbles falling in between my toes. I was giggling as I chased after you, your wet hair plastered to your smiling face.
I caught you and hooked my legs around your waist while reaching up for the pencil. I grabbed it and you brought our arms back down, enfolded them around ourselves. You leaned your head closer and such déjà vu filled me I was overwhelmed. Your face blew up and filled my vision, making my eyes go blurry.
When we kissed, I felt butterflies battle each other in my stomach; I felt water quench my throat after days in the hot desert. I felt you around me, spilling in my empty cracks, filling out my loneliness.
But then something inside my lurched back and I broke away, gasping for air.
“I have to go,” I panted and swam back towards the rock.
“Zoe, wait, I’m sorry,” you tried, following me, but from a distance.
I pulled out a pin and popped the hearts floating above my head, and climbed up the rock. “Turn around,” I said, trying to hide myself, displayed in my slip.
“You’re not embarrassed are you?” you mocked, but you turned around anyway and waited until I got out.
“Of course not,” I sputtered, grabbing my things and running away, dripping wet.

She was standing on the porch, suitcases and bags spilling out around her. Mother was sitting in the swing, her feet scraping the ground. I had never seen her so sad.
Father was leaning against the timber, puffing on a cigar, staring at her.
“Kathleen?” I asked, not sure it was really her.
She whipped around to look at me, stumbling over her bags. It was odd seeing the usually graceful dancer be so clumsy.
“Oh God, my baby sister. Zoe. Come here,” she whimpered.
I ran up to her and hugged her, felt her tears fall on my forehead. She didn’t seem to notice, or mind my wetness. I peeked up at her beautiful face, only to find it marred in cuts and dotted in bruises.
Her eyes, the ones that all the boys had swooned over, were almost swollen shut and purple. Her once long, luscious golden hair that all the girls had envied had lost most of its color and thinned out. Her long, limber body was quivering in my arms.
She was almost unrecognizable.
“Kathleen,” I started, horrified.
“Now, now. Let’s not bombard her. We should all go out for-“Father caught sight of Mother’s glare when he suggested we “go out”.
“Go in for a cup of tea,” he corrected himself, “Zoe help me if your sister’s bags.”
We all took some of her bags and put them inside. Kathleen was sitting at the table, looking out at the oak tree in the front yard.
Mother and Father were in the study room, discussing something in whispers.
I sat down timidly next to her, and put my hand on her shoulder. She jumped at my slight touch, her eyes darting around like a scared animal.
“Oh Zoe,” she sighed, “I remember the last time I was here, I was so happy. Has it really been…what?”
“Three years,”
“Yes…three years,” she mused.
“Do you want me to make you some tea?”
She looked at me, “Huh?”
“Tea, do you want me to make you some?”
“Oh no, no. I don’t want any.”
“…Where’s….Creek?”
“Creek?” she asked, alert.
“Yes. Your…husband…”
“He’s back in California. Or I don’t know. I don’t know where he is now.”
I leaned in closer to her, held her hand. “Kathleen, what happened to you?”
“Zoe, promise you’ll never love a man. You can’t trust them.”
“What do you mean?” I inquired.
“Why do you think I haven’t visited you in three years? Because I didn’t want to? No. It’s because he thought I would leave him if I went anywhere. I was seldom allowed to even leave house.” She fell back against the kitchen chair.
“Did he do all that to your face?” I asked gently.
“My face…” she said, “Is it really that bad?”
I didn’t say anything, so she said, “Yes, sometimes he would just get angry. Things weren’t happening like we thought they would. The money Father and Mother gave us to start out went so fast, and then he couldn’t find a job…he just became drunker and drunker. I watched the man I fell in love with dissolve for three years until he was someone completely different, a tyrant. It took almost a year for me to scrounge and save up enough money for a plane ticket over here.”
“Kathleen. I’m so sorry. You could have telephoned us.”
“Telephone?” she scoffed, “No. We didn’t have any service. I was barely allowed to leave the house and I was afraid of what he might do to you if he found out I was talking to my family. I shouldn’t have come here anyway, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Does he know you’re here, in West Virginia?”
“I don’t know. I left clues around the house that I was going to Colorado, skiing pamphlets and telephone numbers for cottages up there. I’m sorry Zoe. I don’t think he’ll come here. He was losing interest in me.”
“Kathleen,” I groaned, “You’re not used up. Don’t talk like that.”
“Zoe listen, you can’t trust any man except your Father. You hear? They can all turn on you. Don’t you remember how sweet Creek was?”
I thought about how he used to give me chocolates, kiss Kathleen lovingly on the cheek, “Yes,” I confessed.
“Well they can change in a second. No matter how nice and friendly you think a boy is now, in a week he could be hitting you. Love is a thief, just like death. It steals away your clear mind and makes your thoughts blurry. You make crazy decisions. You understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Zoe, look at my face, and my scars and my pain and tell me you understand.”
I glimpsed at her face, tarnished by marks and cuts. “I understand,” I said solemnly.
She buried her head into me and cried, muffled, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. It would kill me. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose anybody else I love.”
Unconsciously, I glanced towards my brother’s old room. I petted my sister’s head and kissed her hair. I wouldn’t love a boy.
I wouldn’t.

School started back up again. Kathleen had been staying with us through the summer, healing. She had taken up a job at the local diner. She enjoyed all the contact with people, and she loved being told how pretty she was again.
It was 1952, and I was a junior in high school. I had only ever kissed one boy. I turned down all the ones that had asked me to dances, telling them that my Father said I couldn’t be courted.
People were aware of my Father’s wealth and influence and stayed away from me when I made clear I didn’t want to be bothered.
Early in the year, after only a week in class, I came down with a terrible fever. For almost five days I stayed home as Mother nursed me. It didn’t seem I was getting any better.
Mother told me I was missing too much, and was worried about me. She took me to Dr. Jones on the outskirts of town. We sat in the waiting room until the nurse called me in, and sat me down on the crackly paper. The room was covered with drawings that children had done pinned up on the walls. There was a sink in the corner and a medicine cabinet above it. The window was slightly open and a small breeze breathed by me, swirling loose curls around my face.
I was lying down with my hand resting on my forehead, when I heard someone come in.
“You’re not going to die, are you?”
Of course it was you. You were his adopted son now. I eternally rolled my eyes for forgetting this.
“No,” I muttered from underneath my palm, “Don’t look at me like this,”
“You look fine. Just a little sick.”
“A little? I’ve missed a week of school,”
“I’m sure you’ll be okay, smarty pants. Dr. Jones is good at what he does.”
“So why are you here?” I snapped. My eyes were still closed, and I was snippy from my headache.
“He’s training,” I heard another voice, a deeper one, and a door pop shut.
My eyes opened and I saw Dr. Jones, an old man, with huge square glasses and big wrinkly hands. Tufts of hair spilled over his ears, while the top of his head was shiny and bald, spidery veins snaking along back to his neck.
“Training,” I repeated, rolling the words around my tongue.
“To be a doctor,” Dr. Jones clarified, “he’s just watching and assisting for now, but in about two years he’s going off to college. He’s really excelled in school and has mastered reading and writing. They’ve bumped him up to the tenth grade, and he’ll be graduating early. He’s so smart, always buried in books. He wants to catch up.” Dr. Jones had been bragging like a proud parent.
I felt happy for you, “That’s good,” I said, “I love doctors,”
“Alright sweetie, let’s find out what’s wrong with you.” He felt my forehead, “Fever…” he plopped a thermometer in my mouth and I wished more than anything you would leave.
You had a smug little grin on your perfect face, and through the summer you had grown taller and less boyish. You looked more like a man now, with lean muscles constricting your arms and legs. Your chest puffed out a little more and you regarded me with so much affection, it was hard to look at you.
“Okay, little miss. It looks like the common cold. You’ve just taken a little longer than most people to get over it. Take this everyday. A spoonful.” Dr. Jones handed me a bottle, “It won’t taste very good but it will make you better.”
I stood up carefully off the bed, “Thanks you.”
“No problem. Thomas will escort you back.” Dr. Jones smiled and walked back out the door.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned, when the door had shut, “You’ll get sick.”
You retracted your hands, but then came up behind me, and put your lips to my ear, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come see you in the morning. Dr. Jones is keeping me too busy.”
“That’s fine,” I said, and shook you off. I didn’t wait for you to say anything else. I stalked out of the office and grabbed Mother’s hands leading her down the stairs.
“Why the hurry?” Mother asked, alarmed.
“Don’t feel too good. Want this medicine,” I grumbled.
I was sitting in the front seat of my Mother’s Ford. I saw the silhouette of your face from behind the curtain. And we drove away.

That Saturday I was lounging in my room, reading a book.
There was knock on the door and I listened as Father opened it. I was sure it was another admirer for Kathleen. I was surprised when Father called my name.
I appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a mint-green blouse and charcoal skirt.
“Father?” I asked.

The door was closed now and you stood off to the corner, your hands behind you back. You were dressed nice, slacks with a white button down shirt, tucked in. You still wore those boyish suspenders you had such long time ago.
“Zoe,” you breathed.
“Zoe, this nice young man wants to take you out tonight. How come you’ve never mentioned him to us?” Father said, amused.
“Never came up,” I smiled pleasantly, “Where will we be going, Thomas, so I know how to dress?” My teeth were clenched.
“What you’re wearing now is perfect,” you said enigmatically, “What time should I have her back?”
Father thought, “Eleven,” he finally said.
I doubted I would be staying out that long with you.
I walked down the stairs and slipped on my shoes. You took my arm and grinned at my Father, “Sir,” you spoke and he shut the door.
“Tonight is promising,” you said.
But all I wanted to do was go back home.
***
We were walking down the dirt road, towards my bus stop when we passed the river. I avoided looking at it. You were staring at me, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“What are you so happy about?” I asked, aggravated.
“You,” you claimed, “I get to take out the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Take out? Who said this was a date?”
“It’s a date,” you confirmed.
“Sure,” I said sarcastically, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,”
“I hate surprises. Tell me or I’m going home.”
You frowned, “you’re no fun. I’m taking you dancing.”
I did like dancing. I looked away to contain my apprehensive excitement.
“That’s right,” you said, “I knew you’d like it.”
“Shut up,” I muttered and you laughed and swung me around. You were so content. So certain of us.
I was a little less accepting.
***
The little diner we stopped at was the one my sister worked at. It had checkered flooring and a red juke box. Little kids smashed their face into the display cases, trying to decide which flavor ice cream they wanted. Waiters rolled around on skates, placing orders while the stove in the kitchen popped and sizzled with meat.
The waitress led us to a booth and gave us menus. She smiled at you, almost leeringly and asked what you’d like to drink first.
“I like milkshakes,” I spoke up, looking right at her.
“Great,” you beamed, happy that I was involving myself, “Two milkshakes,”
“What flavors?” implored the waitress, blowing a pink bubble.
“Vanilla,” you said.
“Strawberry,” I said.
“Anything to eat?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“I’m not hungry either,” you admitted, “Are you sure you don’t want anything Zoe?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure.”
The waitress nodded and skated towards the kitchen.
“She was very interested in you,” I pointed out.
“No,” you said, shaking your head.
“She was,”
“That’s fine. I only want you,”
I looked away from your face, at the kids dancing. My eyes trailed to the booth diagonal to us. I could only see the girl, because the boy was sitting on the other side.
Her eyes were wet, her makeup running down her face, splotching on her baby pink blouse. I could see the boy’s hands moving around gesturing, but I couldn’t hear him. The girl made retorts and sniveled.
“What are you looking at?” you asked, starting to turn around.
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
“Okay…” you began, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Me too,” I said.
“What are you going to do after school?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you want to be anything?”You explained.
“Well of course I do,” I stated, “I think I want to be an author. I love to write.”
“I didn’t know that,” you said, sounding offended, “You should have let me read some of your writing.”
“I’m self-conscious about it,” I disclosed, “I don’t think I’m very good.”
The waitress came back with a milkshakes, dropped them off at the table, “one for you,” she sneered at me, “and one for you,” she said, more dreamily, to you.
You took your drink and nodded, but your eyes didn’t leave my face. She skated away again.
“I ignored her,” you said, sounding proud.
“I saw that.”
“It wasn’t hard,” you admitted.
I laughed a little, but my eyes strayed back to the girl and the boy. The girl was yelling at the boy now, her face red and scrunched up.
“You seem so distracted,” you noted.
“Just tired,” I lied.
“It’s Saturday night, how can you be tired?”
“I stayed up late last night,” I countered defensively, blowing bubbles in my milkshake.
“I’ve never met a girl who preferred strawberry over chocolate,” you stated.
“Strawberry’s the best,” I affirmed.
The boy and girl were both yelling now attracting a few curious stares, but the diner was so loud we couldn’t hear them from where we were.
You seem worried. You were half-way done with your milkshake when you stood up.
“Okay, dance with me. A new song’s about to come on.”
The girl flung herself up angrily now. She took her coke and splashed it in the boy’s face. Everyone on that side of the diner was staring now.
“I don’t want to dance with you,” I whispered, staring at them.
“Why not?” your face fell.
The girl stomped out of the diner. That couldn’t be happiness. My sister had to be right. Love muddled our thoughts, and made our rational mind make bad decisions. A month down the road, I didn’t want to have tears running down my face, I didn’t want to have to throw coke in your face.
“Just leave me be. I don’t like you. And I don’t want to see you anymore. Just let me alone,” I said mechanically, pushing past you and running out of the restaurant.
I caught a glimpse of you through the window as I sprinted past the diner, your hands still waiting to hold mine, shock plastered on as your expression.

I didn’t see you for a long time after that.
You called for weeks after my outburst, but I never answered and eventually you stopped. I avoided places you might be. But I kept thinking I had made a mistake.
Like every morning for years, I waited at the bus stop, washed my feet in the well. You didn’t come anymore. I didn’t expect you to.
I tried to forget about you. I told myself it was for our own good. To leave off with all these happy memories instead of angry ones that would form.
It wasn’t until I got a part time job, waiting tables at a popular cafe, did I start spotting you.
I would see you through the windows, waltzing around town with a girl on your arm. Sometimes she was pretty and sometimes she was not. Sometimes she was beautiful. There was one girl I saw you with more than others, and she was the beautiful one.
She must’ve been new because I did not remember seeing her in school; I was half-way through senior year by now. She had flowing red hair and a fox-like face. Her eyes were like shiny emeralds and she leaked shrewdness. You were as handsome as ever and when you walked by; I couldn’t quite keep my eyes off of you.
But you never looked my direction because your attention was wrapped around her bony finger.
I started seeing a boy named Atticus Ryann. He was smart and studying to be a Veterinarian.
I let him take me around town, hoping you would see us. Did you know, we passed you in the street almost four times in the same weekend and you didn’t notice? You were too busy with your nose up her princess behind.
I was so filled with rage that Atticus dumped me within a month and ran off to South Carolina, to pursue his dream. It didn’t even faze me.
I walked through the park and saw couples holding hands, I saw a man get down on his knee and propose to a woman, who screamed in delight and said yes.
My sister met a nice boy who took care of her. They went out almost every day. She seemed to have forgotten about her three years with Creek. She seemed so happy now.
I asked myself every day why I cared so much about you being with this girl.
I had let you go. I didn’t want you. My head was saying this,
but my heart was screaming for you to be mine.
***
And then one day you two were in the diner. Ordering off the menus and laughing and being loud.
Everyone stared at you both, some thought it was cute, others, annoying.
I thought it was disgusting. I started to come after you when I realized I was wearing my uniform, embarrassed, I took it off and threw it on the floor, and then continued towards your table.
You were kissing her, so I had to swallow down the bile that rose in my mouth. Her fingers were moving greedily to your face, while her eyes flickered to me, but she made no effort to stop.
“Hey,” I cleared my throat loudly.
You looked up at me; the girl was smiling raunchily. Your mouth dropped open and you stared at me, like I was some kind of rare creature.
“Thomas, do you mind stopping by my house this afternoon?” It felt weird to say your name aloud again. It felt as if the balloon inside my chest had been popped, and the pressure dissipated.
You quickly composed yourself. “Why?” you asked lazily.
“I have a letter for Dr. Jones that I’d like you to deliver to him.”
You didn’t ask why I didn’t just deliver it myself, because you knew that I wanted to talk to you instead.
You nodded, “Sure I’ll come over. How about four?”
“Why not earlier?”
“I’m busy,” you said flippantly, and waited for me to leave.
It was so awkward, something I’d never felt with you before. I couldn’t contain the envy pulsing through me, at seeing her sitting so close to you. I wanted to call her every foul name in the book, smear her makeup and pull her hair out of the roots.
“You can leave now,” she snipped.
I smiled politely and started to leave.
“What was that all about?” she demanded, when she thought I was out of earshot.
“She’s an old friend, Violet.”
“She looks snotty. You would never date her would you? I hope not, what a little brat. I heard about her family. Rich snooty people. Did you know her sister got beat so bad by her husband she came whining all the way home. Now she works like a dog at a diner.”
“Violet, don’t-“I heard you start to defend as I turned around and stomped back to your table, I picked up her cooled coffee and threw it in her face. I grabbed the whipped cream on the counter and sprayed her in the eyes, emptying the bottle on her head.
I made eye contact with you as I tossed the bottle on the floor.
You weren’t looking at her, but me, as I turned around, face to face with my boss.
“What is this? Don’t bring personal matters into work, Zoe. You’re fired. Give me your apron.” He looked down at me chest, “you’re not even wearing your apron. Go home. You’re fired. I already said that, didn’t I?
I nodded weakly, humiliated.
“OK, get out.”
I pushed past him and left through the tinkling door. It took everything I had not to look back at you.

I paced around my house, waiting for four o’ clock to come. It did. And then five. And then six. By then my hope at drained.
I was cleaning up the dishes when I heard the doorbell ring.
Mother answered it, “Zoe, it’s for you,” she called.
I ran to the door and saw you, standing discomfited in the parlor.
“Thomas,” I breathed.
Mother smiled at us and left back into the kitchen.
“You’re late,” I pointed out, but I was too happy to care.
“I didn’t know if I was coming,” you shrugged.
The door swung open and Kathleen was there, giggling with her new boyfriend, “Oh sorry,” she apologized.
I grimaced and grabbed your hand, directing you to the nearest room. I shut Kathleen out.
You were standing over by the window, watching the sun dip down to sleep. I walked over and stood next to you.
“This is my brother’s room,” I offered.
“Your brother? Oh yes, you let me borrow his tuxedo way back when,” you smiled a little.
“Yes,”
“Did he move out?”
“He died,” I confessed moving away, towards my brother’s bed. I was thinking about my sister’s words, that day in the kitchen, and how death was a thief.
“Oh God, I’m sorry Zoe.”
“It’s not your fault. He got called away to fight in the war. Mother was heartbroken, but there was nothing he could do about it. One day he stopped sending letters and then we got one saying he was dead.”
You said nothing, only stared around the room, at his dark blue bed sheets and pine-brown shelving, covered in football trophies. “He was athletic,” you noted.
“They told us he had been brave,” I continued, “Father told us that was the only thing that mattered,”
“Zoe…”
“That’s okay. I didn’t ask you to come over so we could talk about this.”
“Then what did you want?”
“I just want to see you again. I miss you.”
“How could you miss me? You told me you never wanted to see me again.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. A lot of things were happening then.”
“Zoe, I’ve got someone else now. And I’m going off to college soon.” Your hand landed on the door knob, and you started to turn it.
“She’s a tramp!” I sneered.
“Oh, don’t be so prissy,” you ridiculed, “you were just jealous because I’m not following you around like a little puppy anymore.”
“That’s not it. I hate seeing you with her. She’s not right for you,”
“And you are?” you demanded.
“Yes!”
“No, you’re wrong. I thought we were but I’m just tired of chasing your attention. I’m leaving. Just leave me and Violet alone.”
I picked up the nearest thing I could find, a knotted up pair of socks, and threw it at the back of your head.
You stopped at looked at me, through narrowed eyes, “What? What do you want from me, Zoe?”
“What happened to us?” I asked. I collapsed on my brother’s bed, clutching my sides.
I could feel you hesitate, and I thought you might leave, but you didn’t and sat down next to me, cradling me in your arms.
“I don’t know. We fell apart.”
“I miss you,” I said, and I was blubbering like an infant, my need for you so strong it hurt. My heart throbbed, raw and naked against my ribcage.
“I can’t do this,” you said, pained.
I reached up towards you, my lips hunting along your jaw, but you pulled away.
“No, Zoe. It isn’t right. I don’t feel that way about you anymore. I just don’t.”
The words hit me like a knife, plunging deep into my chest, I swallowed back a cry. “But I’m sorry, Thomas. I love you.”
You stood up, and I fell forward, landing in pillows.
“I have to leave. Zoe. I have to leave. I just don’t want you anymore,” I didn’t look up to see your face, afraid in what I would find. You had grown up and this wasn’t a game to you. I heard you walk out of the room and I quickly looked up to catch your retreating figure, but I accidentally trapped your eyes, and I saw goodbye in them. Goodbye floating on top of your irises, swimming through the blue like an ocean.
And then you were gone.

It took weeks for me to realize you really left for college. It took months to realize you were never coming back. It was a year before I could think about you and the pain wasn’t so real, it took my breath away.
I was broken.
Time seemed to move like the clouds, circulating in the sky into night and day, night and day. I looked up into them, trying to find shapes, but I still didn’t.
Two years passed.
I was attending a local college, studying literature. I still wanted to be an author. I knew that when I told you, and I knew it now.
Kathleen had run off with that old boyfriend. They had a kid by now. She called me everyday. She told me she was happy. She asked if I was, and I told her I yes.
I went to class everyday and came back every night, fell in my bed, where I learned my only escapism.
I dreamt of flying.
But I had nightmares of planes crashing down.
I dreamt of running,
But I had nightmares of being shot down.
I started to sit out on the oak tree again.
It was near the beginning of June, and I was lying on the tip top branch, staring out at the valley where apple trees used to be. Now it was just an empty basin.
I spotted the dot, moving in the valley. I watched it get bigger and morph into the shape of a human. I saw the bags lumped up on the shoulder.
I first thought it was my brother. I climbed down the tree and ran like the wind into the valley.
I called his name and screamed and tears were falling, but the body I smashed into wasn’t my brother’s.
It was yours.
“Thomas,” I cried, saying your name over and over.
You were kissing my head, dropping your bags and wrapping your arms around me.
We collapsed together in the tall, golden grass, fell back against the Earth.
You propped yourself on your elbow, looked down at my face. You used your thumb to wipe the tears out of my eyes, and the back of your hand to wipe them off my cheeks.
“Look Thomas,” I said, gazing into the clouds, “That one’s shaped like a dog,” I could see it now. It was running, its ears flopping around its head, its tail wagging.
You looked up, “I see it,” you admitted, “and I see you. I came back for you.”
You leaned down, resting your forehead against mine, “I’ve never seen eyes this color.”
“Is that bad?” I teased, touching the tip of your nose.
You shook your head laughing softly, “Not bad, they’re perfect.”
The branches waved their arms and waggled their fingers when you kissed me. I felt whole against those warm lips, free, as if we had both floated away inside clouds, in those little boats in the sky.
And I thought to myself, if love is a thief, than I had been stolen.