We Told Six Lies(34)

“I miss the sun,” she said, quickly. “I miss the warmth.”

He didn’t respond, but she knew that he’d stopped.

Her eyes darted to the window, and because she didn’t want him to simply open it for an hour or two, she said, “I want to feel it on my skin.”

When he still didn’t reply, Molly added, “I feel alone with the door between us.”

He didn’t move, but she knew he was contemplating what she’d said. She knew because she was her father’s daughter.

People don’t enjoy being asked to do things, Mockingbird, he’d said. But if you tell them what you want and allow them the pleasure of making you happy… Well, therein lies the easiest path to getting your way.

Molly could have said, Would you please open the door?

But she didn’t. And so, after several strained moments, she heard the sound of the key slipping into the lock.

Blue pushed the door open and stood staring at her. Molly strained to make out the color of his hair, to see anything, but the mask wrapped entirely around his head.

“You know I’m afraid of you,” Molly said, sitting on the floor. “But I’m more afraid of being alone.”

It was an invitation. One she desperately needed him to accept.

The more time someone spends with you, the more unlikely they are to do you harm. Her father’s words in her head. How she hated them. And yet… Imagine holding a gun to a stranger’s head. Now imagine doing the same to your neighbor.

Blue took a small step backward so that his mask and body were shrouded in shadows. And then he sat.

Molly smiled and sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

Blue nodded.

Molly thought about what to ask him. But no matter what popped into her head, she knew it would lead to his discomfort. It would feel forced. If she were to escape, she needed to gain his trust. And his affection. But how could she grow close to him when even his voice wasn’t his own?

It hit her.

“Let’s play a game!”

He cocked his head.

She looked around the room, searching for an easy one. Then she laid her hand in her lap. Made a fist with it, and put an open palm beneath it.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” she said.

He stared at her.

“Best three out of five,” she went on. “If you win, I’ll make dinner tomorrow night. If I win, you let me go outside for ten minutes.”

Blue stared at her.

Unmoving.

Then he bolted to his feet. Turned to power toward the door.

“No,” Molly yelled. “Wait. Please!”

She hesitated only a second before jumping up and throwing herself at him. Even with her restraints, she was able to reach him. She grabbed his arm. She touched him!

He tore around, his concealed eyes landing on her hand.

She gripped him hard.

Her breathing scarcely left her lungs.

He shook his arm. Let go, the movement said, or else.

As a terrified sound escaped her, she threw her arms around him.

It was the opposite of what she wanted to do.

It was exactly what she needed to do.

She hoped, hoped, hoped.

She held him close. Heaved for oxygen. Her eyes were wide, wide as she listened to his heart beating. Her head fit snugly against his chest made wider inside a thick winter jacket. His chin was more than a few inches above her head. Did she recognize his height, his build, his smell?

She breathed in and caught only the scent of soap, as if he’d just showered.

He didn’t touch her.

His arms hung stiff at his sides.

But, was it her imagination, or did he lower his head to lie on top of hers?

Molly thought of hitting him. Of tearing the mask from his face and screaming, I will kill you. I will burn you alive!

If she’d had an ax, she’d have buried it in his back. But she only had this. She only had her mind and two arms gripping his back.

She raised her mouth to his ear.

Said, “I know you aren’t bad.”

He grabbed her arms and shoved her backward. Not hard enough for her to fall, but hard enough so that he could get to the door. Could lock it behind him and march up the stairs, leaving her alone with the spiders.

Leaving her alone with the aching familiarity of that hug.

Or was it that she hoped it was familiar?





THEN


I saw you before you saw me.

I loved it when that happened. When I had a rare moment of seeing you in your natural state, before you became the girl who slipped into roles like an actress beneath stage lights.

You were different with me than you were with everyone else, but I often wondered—which was the real Molly?

Would the real Molly Bates please stand up?

You spotted me through the car windshield and raised your middle finger. I raised mine back and yelled to Duane that I was out. Took my name tag off and tossed it in the drawer.

Duane leaned across the counter and looked at you, too. I rounded the counter and slammed my hand down in front of him, hard enough to get him to take his fucking eyes off of you.

“See you Sunday,” I said.

“Cool,” Duane replied, already turning around.

I kissed you when I got in the car, and you arched your back. I wondered if I was kissing you more because I wanted to, or in case Duane was watching. I worried about losing you in those days. Every hour I spent with you pushed me a little further into an ocean of us. I was drowning in me with you, you with me. And I didn’t want saving. But I worried, incessantly, that someone would save you and leave me to disappear beneath that black tide.