Alive Again

Reese had been sitting in the same spot for two hours. She had woken up to the sounds of Clary moving around in her bedroom, and she had suspicions that her younger sister was expecting company—mostly because Clary had been going back and forth between her bedroom and her bathroom. Reese referred to this as Clary’s date-prep habit. She would constantly be changing her appearance and then checking it out in the bathroom.

Usually Reese would tell Clary to chill out and give her sister the third degree on their mother’s behalf. Today Reese didn’t care about what Clary was doing. She was preoccupied with the flush inducing memory of her first kiss and the gift she had discovered on her bed after John left last night. The gift bag had made Reese nervous at first; she didn’t know who left in there for her. For all she knew, someone would have thought it a funny joke to leave a vibrator in a bag on her bed.

Then she found the card and her apprehension morphed into something that felt an awful lot like guilt. Reese didn’t even know when John’s birthday was. She had never given him a gift—not for his birthday or for Christmas. He was buying her candy and cakes and presents—and Reese couldn’t stop asking herself why he did these things. Did he really expect something from her? She wasn’t Clary—she didn’t trade sexual favours for material things. Of course Reese knew that John wasn’t interested in that from her... she just couldn’t help jumping to that conclusion.

And Reese couldn’t help thinking about Kennedy and what he wanted from her. They had been spending a lot of time together and Reese wasn’t oblivious to the tension. There were moments when they’d just look at each other and she would begin to flush and he would smile and it felt like he was a magnet and she was metal. His magnetism got stronger and stronger and then they kissed. What was next? Was Kennedy going to want more from her? Was he going to want to touch more than her hand, hair, back, and shoulder blades? Would he grow frustrated with her clothes constantly being in the way?

If she asked these questions about John, the answer would be no on all parts, but this wasn’t John. This was Kennedy, and Reese didn’t know him as well. He was alluring, and that was dangerous. Reese liked him too much to be a fucking rebound for her little sister. She wasn’t that type of girl. Intimacy terrified her—she could not stop trembling when Kennedy would push on her shoulder blades to bring her closer. She could barely breathe when he pressed his mouth to hers—she thought for sure that she would collapse in his arms and die on the spot. She had wanted it too; Reese just wanted to die.

But he had seemed just as breathless, just as stunned, and maybe even a little scared. He hadn’t made things uncomfortable when he left—he didn’t even try to kiss her again. He just gave her a hug and she managed to stumble up to her house. The fear dissipated for a while, leaving behind a satisfaction that Reese tried desperately to hold on to. She didn’t want to keep thinking about the kiss because then she’d start feeling embarrassed and awkward. She was lucky to have gotten a first kiss with a friend—that was all they were, right? Reese didn’t want to be his girlfriend; she really couldn’t be that for him. Reese didn’t know how to be anyone’s girlfriend.

Reese squeezed her new stuffed animal close to her chest, finding comfort in the soft fabric and the faint scent of John that still lingered. It was felt like it had already experienced a lifetime of love from another child. Reese liked that, knowing that this stuffed animal had been loved before—it made the hugs feel like a well-rehearsed routine. She could pretend like this was a gift that John didn’t spend money on. She’d have to talk to him about that, spending money on her. She didn’t like it—it made her feel like she owed him something and that just made her feel uncomfortable.

The rarely used doorbell began to chime, and Reese barely batted an eye before her sister was bolting out of her room. That was all the evidence Reese needed to know that it was a boy. She assumed that her sister would be leaving, but was confused when the door was opened and shut and there were voices in the house. One of the voices was undeniably deep, the other higher in pitch and then the familiar tinkling sound of Clary’s feminine tenor. Reese quickly tossed aside her new stuffed animal aside and hopped out of bed.

Despite not having brushed her hair or changed out of her risqué pyjamas, Reese bolted out of her room and followed the sound of the voices. She treaded lightly on the stairs and the entryway, damn near tip-toeing into the kitchen. Clary was leaning across the counter, resting heavily on her elbows while her guests were sitting on the bar stools on the other side. Reese smiled softly at the familiar faces and entered her kitchen with confidence—a shocking thing considering her attire and lack of hygiene.

“Hey guys, what are you doing here?” she asked as she came to stand between the two boys. She draped her arms casually over their shoulders, smiling first at Pat and then to Garrett.

“Your sister invited us to hang out,” Pat answered with a proud smile. Reese tried not to grimace and instead squeezed his shoulder.

“Wait, you know these guys?” Clary asked, astonished.

“Well, duh, Pat is Tim’s brother and Garrett is Pat’s best friend and they’ve been in a few bands together and I’ve gone to see said bands a few times. I’m just wondering how you know them, Clary.” Reese lifted her eyebrows in a challenge; she squeezed Garrett and Pat’s shoulders when she mentioned them.

“They were at your party last night,” Clary answered without missing a beat.

“Speaking of your party, I didn’t get a chance to give you your present,” Garrett announced, reaching down to grab a rectangular shaped package. It was wrapped beautifully in bright paper and had a green bow on the top of it. Reese was stunned at how nice it looked—considering Garrett looked like a grunge metal kid half the time she saw him.

“Did your mom wrap this?” she asked with a teasing edge to her voice. Garrett rubbed the back of his neck and let out a feeble chuckle.

“Actually, my best friend Sam wrapped it, and she helped me pick it out. So if it sucks, it’s her fault.”

Reese grinned at the copper haired boy. She had always liked him, she couldn’t really express why but if she had to take a guess, she’d say it was because he just didn’t give a shit. She thought of him as a kindred spirit, a lone wolf like herself with friends. Maybe she just felt like she could relate with him because no one ever knew what was going on in his head, and frankly no one knew went on in hers either.

Reese didn’t bother with trying to reassure Garrett that she’d love his gift because it was the thought that counted. He wouldn’t want to hear that sentimental bullshit. She eagerly ripped off the paper and bit her lip to contain a squeal of delight, something else Garrett wouldn’t have appreciated.

“Dude, is this seriously, a gum ball dispenser? That is so awesome, thanks Garrett.” Reese wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave a quick squeeze.

“And I bought the gum balls!” Pat announced, lifting a plastic bag full of circular shapes of all colors.

“Thanks Pat,” Reese leaned over and gave the boy a lingering hug—he was more receptive of these kinds of things. In fact, he could be downright clingy. It was rare if Reese let him get within two feet of her before cowering behind someone (usually Tim or John) or making an excuse to leave.

“You’ll tell Sam thanks for me, right?” Reese directed the question toward Garrett.

“Yeah, of course I will. I actually brought her to the party, you two talked for like three seconds. She had the red hair? I’m sure you’ll see her at a show or something.”

“I really hope I do,” Reese smiled fondly at Garrett, and he returned the gesture with a hint of confusion in his eyes. Clary watched her sister with narrowed eyes. Of course Reese would know Garrett, fantastic. And the way her older sister was looking at him? There was no way that she would be cool with her and Garrett hanging out—Reese would likely shove Clary into piranha-infested water if she made a move.

“Clary, can I see you upstairs for a second?”

Clary just managed to control her eye roll. Like she didn’t see this little confrontation coming the second her sister came into the room. It was going to be the John incident all over again. Regardless, she followed her older sister upstairs and into her bedroom.

“Garrett won’t go for you—he’s a smart kid and a little weird. You know how everyone thinks I’m impossible to seduce? Well Garrett really is like me, he’s impossible to seduce.” This didn’t sound like a lecture—it almost sounded like friendly advice. Reese ran a brush through her hair as she spoke to her younger sister. Clary was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and her defenses up.

“He doesn’t even know about my reputation.”

“Clary, NASA knows about your reputation,” Reese fired back, tossing her brush onto her bed, next to her new stuffed animal. Clary eyed the plush toy with disdain.

“I’m sure they know about yours, too.”

Reese froze in the middle of putting her hair up. “I don’t have a reputation,” she muttered.

“Yeah, you do, as the school prude, Virgin Reese.”

“At least I won’t be voted most likely to contract AIDS in the yearbook. Anyway, I’m going over to Kennedy’s house—don’t fuck Garrett or Pat.” Reese was halfway out of the room before Clary reacted.

“He’s so not my type!” she yelled after her sister, momentarily distracted by the phone ringing from her bedroom. She let her arms fall to her sides and let out a scoff. Clary walked casually through the bathroom and then began the search for the cordless telephone in her room. Unlike her sister’s room, hers was a solid color—orange. Not that you could tell what color her walls were under all the pictures from parties with friends, posters, magazine clippings and paintings.

Her floor was invisible underneath all the dirty and clean clothes, magazines and the occasional CD. Clary heard a definite crack and felt the pressure giving way beneath her foot. She pushed aside the top she had just stepped on to find what broke, finding her favorite paintbrush with a large crack down the middle. Today just wasn’t her day, she could tell.

She located the cordless phone beneath her pillow and frantically pressed the talk button.

“Hello?” Clary waited for a response, hearing nothing but someone breathing on the other line. She tried again, and again.

“Alright you fucking creep, stop calling. It wasn’t funny last week, and it’s not funny this week.” Clary furiously punched down on the end button. These stupid phone calls were starting to get ridiculous. At first she had figured it was someone from school, but then she did star sixty-nine and discovered that it was from a whole different area code. She had her childish theories on who it could be, and why they were calling, but had yet to call back to prove her theories right.

She dropped the phone to her bed and walked out of her bedroom door, but not before gently touching the surface of her current project. It was a painting of two people locked in a heated embrace, leaning against a car in the late Arizona night. She bit her lip as she descended the stairs, looking between the front door and the kitchen. She really didn’t feel like being home alone with two guys, not right now and not if they expected something of her.

“Alright, let’s go to the movies or something,” Clary suggested, grabbing her jacket. She waited impatiently for Pat and Garrett to follow her. She twisted the doorknob and pulled it open, stalling with one foot raised to step over the threshold.

Her mother hastily detached herself from the man on their front porch and started to rub a hand around her mouth subconsciously—to remedy any smeared makeup. Clary felt like she had a sudden insight into Reese’s life for the past two years.

Canvas: $10.99
Set of oil paints: $25.99
Finding your mother making out with an old dude on your front porch: priceless.