fingernail. He got up, went to the window, drew the curtains apart a few inches.
Wyatt saw a face outside the window-a pale oval that seemed to hover in the night, unconnected to a body. The sight scared him for a moment; then his eyes adjusted and features took shape on the oval face-Greer’s features. She wore dark clothes, merging with the night. He opened the window. They spoke in quick, urgent whispers.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seeing you.”
“Why now? What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re not taking my calls. That’s what’s wrong with me.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly-I’m coming in.”
“That’s not a good-”
But Greer already had a leg through the opening, and a second or two later she was in the room. It was a night like the last, clouds racing across the moon, allowing just enough flickering light in the room to pick out the bright things: the eyebrow ring, Greer’s teeth, her eyes.
“What the hell’s going on?” Wyatt said, still whispering.
She looked him up and down. “Always sleep in your boxers?”
“Shh.”
She lowered her voice, although not much. “You must be freezing your ass off. I am.” She turned and closed the window very quietly.
“You can’t stay here.”
She faced him. “That’s the last thing I need, present company excluded. A few hours will be fine.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“No?” she said. She put her arm around his neck, pulled him close, kissed his mouth. Her free hand slid down the front of his shorts. “You’re a liar,” she said, her lips now right at his ear.
Wyatt awoke with Greer in his arms. The wind had died down, and steady moonlight came through the gap in the curtains, illuminating her sleeping face. She looked younger asleep, peaceful and beautiful. He was all mixed up inside. His mind kept doing a lot of on-one-hand, on-the-other-hand stuff. A toilet flushed upstairs and then footsteps moved on the floor of the hall above, light footsteps, Aunt Hildy’s. A bedspring creaked. Silence. Wyatt pulled Greer a little closer.
She mumbled something that sounded like “Five more minutes.”
“You’re awake?”
“No.”
They were so close they hardly had to make any sound at all to communicate, almost like telepathy.
“Then how come you’re talking?” he said.
“Because I love you.” Her eyes fluttered open. “Oops. Way too soon for that kind of revelation.” She met his gaze. “Promise you didn’t hear.”
“I heard.”
“And?”
And what? Was he supposed to say he loved her, too? How did you know if you did? Who did he love? His mom, and Cammy, too, but that was different. This, whatever was going on with Greer, provoked strong physical feelings, not just the obvious kinds, but others in his head and in his gut, like he was in a constant state of excitement, could live on nothing but water and air. Was that a type of love? He had no idea.
“And?”
“And it’s fine,” he said.
“Fine?”
“You know, like okay.”
“Okay?”
“Not a deal breaker.”
Greer laughed, a little too loud. He put his finger over her lips. She bit him, not hard but not softly, either. Things started heating up. Wyatt almost missed the sound of footsteps in the hall, not the upstairs hall but the hall outside his door. He squeezed Greer’s arm, trying to get her to be still. She went still, a lucky break: he wasn’t sure how she’d react to anything.
Knock-knock at the door. Greer slipped under the covers. This was almost like a comedy he’d seen at the East Canton fourplex, like lots of comedies he’d seen there, except it wasn’t funny.
“Wyatt?” Aunt Hildy called through the door. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Were you on your phone just now?”
“No.”
“I thought I heard you talking.”
“No. Maybe, uh, maybe I made some sound in my sleep. Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t. Can’t sleep myself tonight for some reason.” Then came silence, but she didn’t go away.
“Try not thinking about anything,” Wyatt said.
Aunt Hildy laughed, actually more of a snort. “If only,” she said, and padded away.
Greer came up from under the covers and lay quiet, head on Wyatt’s chest. “Everything you do, everything y-”
“Shh.”
She started again, very soft. “Everything you do, everything you say…I like.”
“Shh.”
Time passed. Was it starting to get light outside? Wyatt wasn’t sure. “Greer?” he said. She was asleep. He slipped out from under her, went to the window. Still fully night. He took his cell phone off the desk, checked the time: four forty. How to handle this? She could stay till everyone left and then-
Greer sat up. “I better get going,” she whispered.
He sat beside her. “How did you get here?”
“Drove.”
“You have a car?”
“My dad’s. It’s not insured and the plates are gone, so I don’t like to drive it much, you know?”
Nothing funny about that, but Wyatt had a hard time not laughing.
She got out of bed, pulled on her clothes. Wyatt stood naked beside her. When she was all dressed, she put her arms around him. “I’d like a picture of us, just like this,” she said.
“Not a good idea,” Wyatt said. “Doesn’t everyone know that by now?”
“You’re no fun.” She kissed him, opened the window, stuck one foot out. “I meant to tell you something,” she said, “but it’s so hard with all this whispering.”
“What?” he said.
“I met him,” she said. “He’s really nice.”
“Who?”
“Your-Sonny, Sonny Racine. I went to see my dad today-yesterday-and he was there, in the visiting room. He gets a lot of respect.”
“What the hell?” Wyatt raised his hands, the kind of gesture that goes along with not knowing where to begin. Greer climbed out the window and disappeared in the darkness.
12
“Hey. Wake up, for Christ’s sake.”
Wyatt opened his eyes. Dub was in the room. He grabbed a pillow and tossed it at Wyatt’s head. Greer’s smell was on it; and everything, the whole night, came back to him. Dreamlike, but not a dream. Wyatt tossed the
