touch (31 page)

We arrived a few minutes early.  Morik carried the larger of
the two flat boxes, holding the door for me.  Inside, the only two customers
looked up from their cups at the sound of the bell.  Mona stood behind the
counter thumbing through a magazine and caught my glance.

She laughed aloud, “Remember what this looks like.  You’ll want
a hot bath and a foot rub by one.”

We set the boxes on the counter.  Since starting her
partnership with Gran, Mona had already invested in a cute clear plastic
display to show the baked goods.  She even bought paper doilies to place on the
transparent shelves, saying it made it look fancier.  I agreed.

“What’s in the extra box?” she said lifting the lid while I
stepped behind the employee door to remove my coat.

“Hangover food according to Gran.”

Morik moved to one of the tables.  I brought him a cup of
coffee knowing he’d stay until it started to get busy.

Mona set out as much of the bakery she could and then moved
the rest to the back room.

The bell rang before she returned.  It didn’t stop ringing
after that.  The crowds of inarticulate, hung-over people hit us like waves on
a shore.  Starting small, they grew in intensity.  At one point, I brought an
extra coffee pot from the back.  We didn’t have a warmer for it, but it didn’t
matter.  We moved a full pot to the counter to sit while the next one brewed. 
The waiting pot emptied before the next cycle finished.

Gran’s bakery disappeared in the crush of bodies, as did
Morik.  Before nine, we’d sold every breakfast item.  By ten, Morik returned
with three stacked boxes, saying Gran had gone back to bed and we shouldn’t
expect more.

Mona beamed and refilled, laughed and restocked breakfast
items, took orders and hit the cash button on the register until one forty.

At one forty-five, after the last customer left, we
collapsed into the chairs.  Crumbs littered the tables and floors.  The garbage
overflowed with coffee grounds.  The sandwich board needed serious restocking,
since after we ran out the Gran’s goods people started ordering from the lunch
menu.  Neither of us moved to clean a thing.

“My feet hurt,” I said with a little groan.

Mona laughed.  “I’d say you could leave, but I really need
your help, or I’ll be crawling out of here at midnight.”

Smiling and tiredly I got to my feet as someone tapped at
the door.  Morik stood outside, looking in.

Mona let him in while I got the wash bucket for the tables. 
When I came back out, he had a broom in his hand.  I wanted to hug him.

Mona turned up the radio and we set to work again.  I never
realized how much time all the cleanup and prep I did throughout the day saved
us by the end of the day.  It took forty minutes to finish.

Putting the last container of sliced tomatoes in the
refrigerator, I grabbed my jacket and hobbled to the front.  Mona, just
finished counting out the tips, handed me a wad with a huge smile.

“Eighty bucks,” she said proudly.  “I love making hung-over
people happy.”  She handed me a fat envelope with Gran’s name.

I liked the money, but not the achy feet.  Morik helped me
to the car.

When we got home, Gran sat on the couch while mom and Aunt
Grace worked together in the kitchen to put away the last of the dishes.  They
had
Miss Congeniality
playing.  One of my favorites.  After tossing my
things in the direction of the coat hook, I collapsed on the couch next to
Gran, limply handing her the envelope.

“I couldn’t believe Morik when he came back at eight saying
you’d need more.” Gran picked up the envelope with a grin.  “Did you sell
everything in the second batch too?”

I nodded, eyes focused on the screen.  Morik sat on the
floor in front of me, nudging one of my legs to the side.  Grudgingly I moved. 
When he picked up the foot and started rubbing it, I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Cars and foot rubs?” Aunt Danielle grumbled.  “Idiot
Belinda.”

My thoughts exactly.

*    *    *    *

Returning to school felt good.  Though I liked spending time
with Morik, I craved the normalcy of monotony, especially with Mom’s spring
wedding plans still underway.

January’s piercing cold and short days wore on me, as did my
shortening time.  By the end of the month, Mom relented on her rule about not
spending the night at Morik’s.  I could see the worry in her eyes.  Less than
four months until I turned seventeen.

Staying at Morik’s meant no chant, which had several
benefits, like waking early before school and making my own breakfast.  I was
heartily sick of toast.

When I opened my eyes on the last Monday in January, my
first thought was pancakes.  My second was how nice and toasty warm sleeping
next to Morik made me.  I didn’t get up.  Instead, I turned to look at him
taking the opportunity to study him.

Most mornings he watched me, proving his statement that he
didn’t sleep much.  But occasionally I caught him resting with his eyes closed,
like this morning.

His black lashes twitched against his skin.  Did he dream? 
I hoped he dreamt something happy, carefree.

He didn’t voice any concern about my choice or the link.  He
didn’t need to.  We all knew it loomed.  Everyone dealt with it in his or her
own way.  He remained extremely attentive when with me only parting company
when he dropped me off at school.  Mom and Aunt Grace planned a wedding and
Gran threw herself into her baking.

Morik and I grew closer and more relaxed in each other’s
company.  I loved going home after school and cooking an unusual dinner with
Gran and Morik.

They spent the day planning and shopping while I attended school. 
His interest in cooking delighted Gran.  Any dinner he liked, he made a copy of
the recipe.  After exhausting Gran’s cookbooks of appealing options, he bought
her a laptop so she could research recipes online.  It also provided her a way
to track the return of investment for her baked goods that we still delivered
daily to the Coffee Shop.

After dinner, when I stayed home, he slept next to me
waiting for my family’s chant to wear off.  When I stayed at his house, we
played games or watched a movie before bed.

For all of our time together, nothing changed.  The stunted
twist of black and silver, the representation of our link, ended abruptly in
the sway of my back.  Its continued lack of growth frustrated me.

I tried recreating the moments I associated with the first
appearance of it and its subsequent growth, but nothing happened.  Well, I
shouldn’t say that.  Morik really liked when I spontaneously kissed him, but
despite the consuming black in his eyes, more often I saw a stronger presence
of yellow.  I didn’t let him know his eyes gave away his thoughts.

On the weekends after work, we hung out with Beatriz.  Her
easy acceptance of him gave me a sliver of hope that, if things went wrong,
maybe he could endure with her friendship.

At school, she constantly hounded me about the details of
our relationship.  When I finally admitted to kissing him, she demanded a
play-by-play recollection of it.  My briefly vague details didn’t inspire her
imagination much.

I smirked at Morik, who remained unaware of my scrutiny,
recalling Beatriz’s demand to know if I’d ‘nibbled on his incredibly yummy
bottom lip’ yet.  If my seventeenth birthday saw me to the grave, I wished
Beatriz’s stubborn persistence luck in winning over Morik.

The memory of her words drew my gaze to his bottom lip.  It
did need a nibble.  Was I bold enough?  I paused surprised at the thought. 
What did I have to lose?  My time was limited.  Why did I hesitate to do the things
I wanted to do?  Sure, I worried about other’s opinion of me.  I didn’t want to
disappoint my mom or push Morik into aspects of a relationship he hadn’t
considered.

“You’re very serious this morning,” he commented without
opening his eyes.

“Thought you were sleeping.”  I burrowed in closer to his
warmth.  Most mornings I woke on my side with my head pillowed on his shoulder,
the perfect spot.

“I was until you woke.”  He opened his swirling silver eyes
and kissed the top of my head.  The kiss that usually signaled our time in bed
was over.

It suited me fine.  I had a lot to think about and didn’t
want him studying my face while I did.

*    *    *    *

“Are you serious?” Beatriz squealed when I admitted to
spending the night at Morik’s.

We stood in the hallway at school, me digging books from my
locker, and she, leaning against my neighbor’s locker, grinning at me stupidly.

I rolled my eyes at her.  “Yes, but it’s not what you’re
thinking.  Mom just gave me a break from wedding plans.  By the way, we’re going
dress shopping this weekend,” I said to distract her.  “Mom wanted to know if
you could come with.  More opinions.”

“Of course, I’ll go!”

With the book I needed in my arms, I bumped my locker closed
with a hip, and walked with Beatriz to our first class talking dresses.

Thanks to Beatriz’s friendship and the reduced use of my
gift, many of our fellow classmates nodded or said hello as we passed.  The sea
of faces usually blended and washed over me as I smiled and nodded in return.

A very focused set of eyes attracted my notice enough that I
did a double take.  On the second look, the girl winked at me.  As I watched,
she slumped slightly.  Morik?  I sure hoped so, even though I’d need to scold
him for using people again.

“Are you going to look for a winter formal too?” Beatriz
whispered to me while we passed our papers forward at the end of the class.

The drain of the surprise quiz robbed me of where we’d ended
our last conversation and I stared at her blankly for a moment.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going!  It’s the weekend before
valentine’s …”

She abruptly stopped talking as Mr. Wammner, our first hour
teacher, swung his disproving gaze in her direction.  She smiled innocently in
return and I hid my amused smile.  The bell rang and we both scooted from the
room before he decided to talk to Beatriz.

“It’s a cool dance.  They really do it up here.  The student
council has the gym cleaned before they start decorating so it doesn’t smell
like feet.  They even bring in a punch fountain and snack table.  Come on. 
We’re running out of dances before school’s out.”

She brought up a good point.  A junior, I hadn’t gone to a
single dance in my life.  Maybe that’s why mom gushed over her wedding plans. 
She often recalled her only senior dance, after she chose dad, as a magical
night.  If I actually considered choosing a human boy, I could count on next
year’s dances.

“I don’t know,” I stalled seeing her wind up for a
long-winded list of persuasive reasons I should go.

The girl from the hallway earlier this morning approached. 
“Beatriz, one of the office women asked that I fetch you to them.”

I’d forgotten how creepy the double voices sounded.  Beatriz
groaned and rushed away.  Once she moved out of range, I scolded, “You know how
I feel about using other people.”

“I apologize.  I missed you.”

Yes, I melted a little.  “Would you like to go to the
dance?” he asked me, with the girl’s smooth voice melding with his own deep
voice.

Damn, if the kid from the cafeteria didn’t walk by just
then.  The lesbian rumor would flare again for sure.

“It’s after dark.  I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Consider a deal for your safety.”

I remembered my thoughts this morning about going for what I
wanted.  We hadn’t heard from Ahgred much in the last few weeks.  Morik assured
me he waited nearby at night, listening and watching when he could through the
un-shuttered windows of Morik’s home.

“What did you have in mind?”

“A touch for a night with me.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair trade.  You can already touch
me.”  He didn’t smile or look away.  Whatever.  If he really wanted it, I
didn’t mind.  “Fine.  A single touch in return for a single night, the night of
the dance, with you, Morik,” I said his name just so I wouldn’t be stuck
dancing with the girl he currently inhabited.

He laughed eerily and moved quickly to cup my cheek.  A
scream tore from my mouth, raspy, desperate, and full of pain it stopped all
movement around me as a spark ignited at the base of my spine where I knew the
link already marked me, and burned upward.

The girl’s eyes flashed glowing green during the brief
concentrated pain.  I panted to catch my breath.  What had I done?  How could I
have mistaken Ahgred for Morik?  He’d used Morik’s voice under the girl’s and played
out his trick.  How bad was the deal I made?

The girl dropped her hand with a triumphant smile.  Her
stance deflated, and the smile faded as she burst into tears.

“Oh my god, what was that?” she sobbed.

The pain lingered unlike each time before.  Ignoring it, I
focused on her, aware of everyone’s attention.  I couldn’t have another Clavin
or Brian on my hands.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, grabbing her arms and steering
her through a gawking crowd.  Tugging her into the nearest girl’s bathroom door
as the bell rang.  I eyed the empty stalls while she cried.  Someone was bound
to tell a teacher.  I didn’t have much time.

“Morik!” I called softly.  He appeared in front of me and
the girl began crying harder.  “I don’t have much time.” I said in a rush.  “I
accidentally made a deal with Ahgred - I’ll tell you about it later.  Right
now, I need to make a deal to wipe her memory of it.”  I nodded to the sobbing
girl who, when hearing my plan, made a beeline for the door.

Morik disappeared and the girl stopped moving.

“What deal?” they asked in a single discordant voice.

“Ahgred cannot use any more humans during the day to
interact with me or watch me.  And I want any memory of him wiped from her.”