THREE A.M.

BY THE ONE

Our junior year had just ended and if was only dawning on most of us that this was the last year there would be a “next year.” Not all of us were taking it the same way, though. As much as we all enjoyed high school only me and a few others felt true connections to anything and would be sad to leave it all behind; the rest couldn’t be happier to call themselves seniors and boast their last year of forced education.

We all agreed, however, that summer vacation was a good thing no matter what year it was. To celebrate this one we had gathered at Laura’s house for an all-night party complete with a bonfire (which we had defined for our parents simply as a sleepover). All of our group of eleven good friends were there, only two were not as glad to see each other as the rest of us.

Zach and Renée had dated for almost two years. They were devoted to each other and shared what we perceived as a deep connection, until about a month ago when they suddenly split. All the school’s gossip circles buzzed with the story for weeks, but no one had answers or causes because the two wouldn’t speak of it. They seemed to remain friends and all they would say was that they just thought it would be good to take a break for a while.

I had been hopelessly in love with Renée since freshman year, but never had the nerve to tell her – until after she had already hooked up with Zach. I then had to endure two years of regret at not having asked her when I had the chance. The pain eased gradually though, and when I heard the news of their split it was only a distant dull ache in my mind. But those words split the wound wide open again, and with it cut my mind in half. One side felt it would be a bad move to pounce on her right away (and in this sense it was right) but also felt I should just let it all go. The other half demanded action immediately, and as much as I tried I could not push away the thought of my stolen love suddenly all by herself, lonely and wishing for someone to comfort her. I would not get a third chance to learn from my mistakes. I had to act now, or else my senior year would be haunted with loneliness and even more painful regret. Only one thing stood in the way of redemption: the “mutual decision.” That meant they still had feelings for each other. And there was nothing I could do about that but wait and hope.

My patience soon began to pay off. Over the course of a few weeks he grew colder and more distant from her. He began to take every chance to berate and insult his former girlfriend, both to her face and behind her back. She tried her best to talk to him and resolve the problem but he pushed her away at every turn. One side of me felt bad for her. The other side was readying for action. The single barrier standing in my way had broken down on its own.

Tonight was no different than any other time between the former lovers. From the moment Zach pulled into the driveway he did everything in his power to upset Renée, and didn’t make a very sincere effort at subtlety. He parked behind her car at an odd angle, trapping her in the driveway. He was loud and rude when he spoke to her, and when she asked him to move his car he flatly refused. Naturally shy to conflict she did her best to stay away from him rather than put herself in a bad spot. Still every so often their paths crossed and he took advantage of the opportunity to be hurtful in some way.

By two in the morning everything had considerably quieted down. Almost everyone had found a place to rest. They were all reluctant to miss out on the party by going to sleep, but end-of-school fatigue had not entirely worn. One by one we’d come across them sprawled on vacant beds or couches or chairs, and a few who had planned far enough ahead to bring sleeping bags had even taken to empty stretches of hallway carpet to set up camp.

Eventually there were only four of us still sitting on the front porch, me, Zach, Ryan, and Emily, who was only awake in the sense that her eyes were open. The other three of us had reached that point of being too tired to really have a serious conversation and so had taken to telling embarrassing stories about each other and everyone else, and making lewd jokes throughout.

When Ryan asked Emily a question and got no response, we realized she had finally fallen asleep. Zach, who was next to her on the swing, nudged her awake and asked if she wanted to sleep somewhere she wouldn’t be woken up by our loud laughter. She mumbled something and dragged herself inside with a weak wave goodnight. We returned to our own conversation, but were interrupted a minute later when Emily came back. We looked at her questioningly.

“There’s nowhere to sleep,” she moaned.

“The couch is right inside the door!” Zach said loudly. It wasn’t funny, but we laughed anyway, tired enough to feel wildly energetic. It’s a strange feeling, hard to explain. Emily didn’t find the humor.

“Renée’s sleeping in it.”

Zach’s eyes lit up. “Really?” We all knew that look.

“Don’t wake her up,” Emily warned, “She has to be back home by seven o’clock. Zach, don’t!”

But he was already inside. Suddenly the curtains of the bay window behind us slid open and we saw him standing there looking out at us with a ridiculous smile on his face. He made sure we were watching as he picked a discarded pillow off the floor and set it on her face.

It took a moment for her to react. She squirmed in her sleep for a few seconds and would have gotten rid of the obstruction if Zach hadn’t put pressure on it from above. Suddenly denied air, she jerked awake and her hands flew to her face in panic. Before she could grab him Zach pulled the pillow away and darted back out onto the porch laughing dramatically. Even Ryan and I didn’t appreciate the joke.

Renée was sitting up now looking around. She was breathing hard enough that we could see her chest moving, and her forehead had a light sheen of sweat. Everyone knew she was claustrophobic and was terrified of suffocating. It was why she didn’t like sleeping bags, Halloween masks, or deep water, and why (reportedly) she didn’t have any more pillows than necessary on her bed. Zach had obviously known of this phobia, and had shrewdly capitalized on it.

Finally turning toward the window Renée noticed all of us looking in at her. Ryan and I pointed at Zach, who held up the pillow with a stupid grin and laughed. Renée gave him a look of quiet suppressed anger and drew the curtains closed sharply. Emily scowled at Zach and went inside, letting the door bang shut behind her. We heard their voices behind the curtains, but couldn’t make out their words, so went back to our conversations with a hint of awkward disdain in the air.

After the ordeal it didn’t take long for Ryan to declare he was tired and go off in search of a spot to lie down. Zach decided too he was suddenly exhausted, and followed Ryan inside. I said goodnight, but didn’t go inside immediately. Instead I lingered on the porch to enjoy the sudden stillness. The moon bathed everything in a cool blue light and made the dew on the grass sparkle like teary eyes. From somewhere deep in the woods across the unpaved road a nightbird trilled in the darkness. My thoughts wandered to the girl on the sofa in the room behind me. I hadn’t heard voices for some time now, so I figured Emily had turned in for the night. I imagined Renée lying there, waiting for sleep to return to her. Or had it come already? I felt bad for her, but at the same time I knew I needed sleep myself.

I got up from the chair I was slouched in and went in the door as quietly as I could. Renée’s eyes were closed again and she didn’t stir when I entered. I noticed she had cleared all the pillows off the couch and piled them in a corner. The poor girl. She had been forced onto the bad side of the only boy who would exploit her worst fear for his own amusement. She looked cold, I thought, lying there covered only with a small knit blanket. The air conditioning was turned down, and I felt my neck prickle with a chill. I had a momentary fantasy of the two of us staying warm together.

“You would be safe with me,” I whispered.

I stared at her for a moment more before forcing myself to set off in search of somewhere to sleep. The microwave clock read 2:50 a.m. I was sure there would be useable spots left, but evidently Laura’s house hadn’t been furnished to deal with eleven people. Two of the three beds upstairs each held two girls, and Ryan had claimed the third bed for himself. Not enthusiastic toward the idea of sharing a bed with another guy, I went back downstairs, careful not to step on the full sleeping bags in the hallway. Both couches were taken, I knew, and I found Emily curled up in one armchair and Zach sunk into the other.

“There would be just one extra person,” I muttered, “who didn’t think to bring a sleeping bag.” In frustration I wandered around for a while, finally concluding that I would have to either use the carpets, the porch furniture, or the grass. None of these options were very good, so I stood at the front door thinking of the same problem over and over again, all the while staring at Renée. She looked so serene; oh, she was beautiful. A girl as perfect as her deserved better than loneliness. I had to do something, had to say something. But not now, no, now was not a good time. Maybe if she woke up suddenly. Maybe she would be in the mood to talk to someone. God, you’re beautiful, Renée. I sighed tiredly.

“If you only knew,” I whispered, “If I could only tell you…” I gazed at her so deeply that I didn’t notice her eyes slide open.

“Hey.”

I jumped. I felt my mouth drop open but words were gone.

She smiled. “Can’t sleep?”

“No!” I spit out, then more calmly, “No. There’s no place left.”

“Hm. I can’t either.”

I looked at her. “You just were, weren’t you?”

“Not entirely,” she said with a mysterious smile.

I was sure my face was getting red. Had she heard me?

She yawned. “I’m really tired. I can’t believe I have to be back at seven. I hate my parents sometimes.”

“Why do you have to be there that early?”

“They’re all freaked out over me and Zach. They think I’m depressed or something, and Mom doesn’t want me around him for too long at a time.”

I laughed. “A little extreme, maybe?” “Yeah.” Her eyes suddenly glazed over. She blinked and a tear spilled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her blanket.

“Are you okay?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

She sniffed and choked out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

Silence stretched between us for a minute, then she looked me in the eyes and asked, “Why does he hate me?”

The question caught me off guard. What could I possibly say to answer her, hurting as she was?

She smiled through new tears. “You’re not used to questions like that, are you?”

My expression must have been pathetic. “Honestly, no.”

“I’m sorry. I do that sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” I said, “You know, I don’t think he hates you.”

“Yes he does. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. He’s friends with you, what does he say about me?”

“He doesn’t really talk about that stuff with me,” I answered honestly, “I don’t thinks he talks about it at all.”

She looked uncomfortably from side to side as if embarrassed. Then, “I need somebody to talk to. Would you mind?”

“No! No, of course not.”

She curled her legs up to open the other half of the couch and looked at me. I pointed at the open spot and gave her a questioning look that had to have made me look twice as stupid as I already did. She smiled and gestured me to sit down.

I felt like I floated across the room. Was I dreaming? Had Renée – the Renée – my fantasy love Renée – just asked me to sit next to her, just the two of us, and talk? It was too good to be true.

I plopped onto the sofa cushion and looked at her expectantly. My expression must have been funny because she smiled and turned her eyes away. But she was blushing. Was her heart fluttering as much as mine?

“Well? What do you want to talk about?” I asked. She laughed and blushed deeper. I smiled and kept my eyes on her. She finally raised her eyes to me and stretched her legs out so her feet stuck out from under the blanket close to my hand. I couldn’t resist swiping a finger across their soles.

She yelped and her feet disappeared back under the blanket. She stared at me wide-eyed, but those eyes were surprised and playful, not angry.

“Don’t,” she whined and pouted, “I’m ticklish.”

“Really?” I asked and looked at her stomach, slowly sliding my hands toward her.

“Don’t. No. No!” She curled up tightly and buried her head under her blanket. I lunged and dug my fingers into her sides, drawing a squeal from her. She uncurled violently and the blanket flew off her as her arms darted down to bat me away. I easily grabbed her wrists and pinned them down to her sides. She tried to kick me off but I wrapped my legs around hers and held her tightly. Laughing hysterically the whole time, she realized she couldn’t get away and stopped struggling. That disappointed me a little, but our position made it well worth the sacrifice. I was almost completely on top of her, holding her immobile. She must have thought of the fact that I could basically do anything I wanted to her, yet she was relaxing under me. She stopped laughing but a smile lingered on her lips as she took deep breaths to calm herself. I could feel her chest rising and falling, and it felt wonderful.

“I can’t move,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” I said. Before I could stop myself I added, “I like it that way.” No! Stupid! It was the worst thing possible to say at a time like this!

Her smile dropped and she gave me a look as if to say, “Are you kidding?” and I thought she would demand that I let her go.

But her face softened and instead she said, “I kind of like it this way too.”

My head spun in shock. This had to be a dream; I knew it was now. It was all too impossible to be real. And if it was a dream, why not take it as far as I could before I woke up?

There were footsteps upstairs. Both our heads snapped to look at the steps. No one could see us. There was a flutter, a swirl of motion. I saw the blanket twist to the floor, then brown hair flew in my face. Someone was gripping my hand. Then the world was suddenly darker. My feet were wet and there was a chill in the air, but the girl in my arms was warm.

We were outside far in the backyard behind the pines, hidden from view of the house. The moon was above us, full and feverish, bathing us with intoxicating blue light.

I stared into Renée’s eyes. They were like deep brown pools gazing up at me, shining in the moonlight, trembling like the dew on the grass. She blinked and the water spilled from the pools in two streaming rivulets that caught the cold fire of the moonlight. In a dream-state I reached a hand up and gently brushed the tears from her face. I let that hand then slip behind her head, and my other move to cradle the small of her back. Her arms tightened around me as I pulled her closer. The pools disappeared as her eyelids fell closed. I could smell her sweet breath in the air; sense her heartbeat like a tangible thing. I could hear it in my ears, beating faster and faster, harder. She smelled of incense. The moon blazed down on us.

Our lips touched and time stopped. I felt and heard only two racing heartbeats and fevered breath. Then someone was holding me, and I was holding them. I felt a girl’s chest tight against mine, flesh against flesh. One of my hands stroked silky hair; the other clutched a smooth back tightly, pressing her to me.

There was a rush of air against my skin, then a dull impact, and I felt cool grass and dew. I could feel it against every inch of my body.

She was on top of me, then suddenly underneath me, then back again. Off and on her hair brushed my face as if in a strong wind, but the lovely feeling against my lips never let up. She was beneath me again. Her breath came faster than ever and her heart’s pounding was as deafening as mine. There was dull motion now, more subtle than before but somehow even more powerful. She suddenly gripped me tighter and I heard a distant sound like a cry, but then it was gone and our bodies relaxed into a smooth rhythm that lasted hours.

Her breath stuttered and she gasped. Her grip on me doubled just before an unbelievable sensation exploded in my mind. It came from everywhere at once and I heard my heart stumble and my breathing stop.

For eternity all I was aware of were vague thoughts, then of a slowing heartbeat and long breaths. I realized they were mine and thought it all must be a dream. But there was sensation now. Renée and the world were real, and Renée was the world. I felt her, smelled her, tasted her, and I knew it wasn’t a dream.

I opened my eyes very slowly. The moon was gone from the sky. Only starlight broke the darkness in much of the sky, but off in the far distance a very faint glow was beginning to appear.

I felt someone touch me to my left. I tilted my head to gaze into those deep brown pools again. The lunar blazes were gone now; I could see straight to the bottoms of the pools. There were no more tears in them.

Renée smiled slightly. We were still connected, and neither of us made a single move to change that. Instead she pressed herself as close and tight to me as she could, tucking her head against my chest under my chin. Her eyes fluttered closed and she was asleep.

I lay there for a while gazing at the dark sky that would be lightening soon. This was far from a dream. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew we had been incredibly foolish, and that life may soon become a nightmare for both of us. Reason said the three o’clock hour had seen us make a terrible mistake. But was it truly a mistake if we didn’t regret it? If we weren’t sorry for it, could it really be called foolish? It didn’t matter either way. I had Renée, and she had me, and we would have each other for the rest of our lives now.

I closed my eyes and let the soothing rhythm of Renée’s heartbeat and the gentle caress of her breath lull me to sleep.