Rooftop Infinity

A Friday evening in October is blessedly quiet in my corner of the world, my little attic bedroom with the window overlooking the roof and the naked trees beyond.

The sun will be setting soon. Dusk comes quickly in the fall, sometimes you can't even catch when daylight suddenly turns sullen, sucking the light from the windows and leaving the curtains dark. I've got a flashlight to combat the impending darkness as I read my book in bed, too stubborn to turn on a lamp. Besides, too much light and the mood is ruined. At least that's how I justify it when my grandparent's tell me I'm ruining my eyesight when I read without much light. I think they're just jealous that they need reading glasses and I don't.

I sink into Kafka's "Metamorphosis" slowly, tuning out the world as I know it.

Then, my reading zen is ruined when there's this sudden insistent little scratching on my window. I glance over quizzically at the window where a tabby cat is up on his hind legs, pawing at the glass. I dogear the page of my book and roll onto my feet. Buttons has this pathetic look on his little face as he watches me deliberate whether to let him in or make him figure out how to get down from the roof. I roll my eyes and shove open the window with a bit of difficulty—I don't open the window often. Little white paint shavings scatter onto the carpet as Buttons scrambles off the sill and zips through the cracked door, his tail doing a little 'later, loser' salute on the way out.

I lazily flop back onto the pillows, picking up my book where I left off, clicking on the flashlight because it's just dark enough that my eyes have begun to hurt.

Then there's another tap on the window. It's not Buttons. And I'm pretty sure we only have one cat. I squint into the darkness outside the window. Nothing. I go back to my book.

Another sudden sound, a more imperative rapping comes from the window, then, “Luce.” I let out a small sound, dropping my book and flashlight on the floorboards with a clatter. Who is that? Was that my imagination? What is this? My house is haunted. I knew it. I'm calling a priest. We're moving. I desperately fish for the flashlight, groping beneath my bed until it's in my hand. Coward that I am, I cup my palm over the light, too afraid to shine it on the window. Then the glass rattles again. “Lu.”

“Oh, God,” I squeak out, and then unveil the beam of light. It lands on a face, peering in through the window with squinted eyes. “Sweet mother of—Nate! What are you—? Oh, my God.” I stomp over to the window, and wedge it open, hands shaking. “What are you doing on my roof?” I hiss, stooping to stick my head outside.

“I thought you'd be happy to see me,” Nate replies with a grin.

“You suck. You... you... you just suck,” I splutter.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?” He attempts to hide a handsome little half-smirk.

“No,” I deny. “You just... startled me is all.” I step back inside my room and push my bangs out of my face.

“Mm, I startled you. Is that it?” he teases, craning his head through the window.

“...I don't like you right now.”

“You're lying.”

“You're... stupid,” I mumble.

“You're dumb.”

I don't reply, just shine the flashlight on his shoulder.

“Come out here,” he says.

I scoff. “You're going to have to be more polite about it.”

“...Come out here, please,” he deadpans.

“Nope.” I turn around, leaving him in darkness, and shut the door to my room in case Mom hears something.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Luce?” Nate cries.

“Woo me, Nathaniel. Do your worst,” I throw a smile over my shoulder.

“Uh... Roses are red, violets are blue—“

“—I'm unimpressed. Try again.” I get down on my knees and peer under my bed, looking for my book that I had previously dropped.

“I wasn't done yet,” Nate protests.

My head pops up over my bed. “Try again.” I grin and then go back to searching.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you are like—“

“—Found it!” I announce, thrusting the book into the air.

“You interrupted me,” Nate complains.

“Maybe you deserved it,” I retort.

He rolls his eyes and then clears his throat. “Fine. I'll try a different approach... Love is like oxygen, love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, love is all you need—“

“—Mmm... no.”

“No?”

“No. You made me lose my place in my book. It's a federal offense, you know. You'll have to try a little harder... But, Moulin Rouge. Nice touch.”

“Thanks,” Nate mutters.

And then it's silent as I search for the page I left off on. “Have you given up?”

“I'm thinking,” he replies.

“Think away—“

“THE HILLS ARE ALIVE... WITH THE SOUND OF MUSI—“

I literally leap off the bed and shove myself partway out the window as he belts, clapping my hand over his mouth. “Shut up, Nate. Please please please please shut up.”

I feel him smile underneath my hand and then mumble something. “What?” I whisper.

He takes my wrist and moves it away from his mouth. “Come out here with me, please.” He says softly.

Stunned, my eyes wide, I mouth words that probably aren't English—or words at all. His thumb rests gently on the veins in my wrist, where I've grown unnaturally warm. I blink a couple of times. “Let me get a jacket.” I slip out the window and grab the coat off my desk chair.

“Are you sure you don't want me to warm you with my love instead?” Nate calls.

I smirk. “You're a poet, Nathaniel. More naughty words!” I don my jacket and Nate offers a hand through the window. I take it, feeling a little warm again, and he pulls me through. Outside, it's colder than I had originally thought. The moon hangs low and heavy in the sky, almost full. “It's cold.”

“Yeah... C'mon.” Nate tugs on my hand and we stumble to the other side of the roof and sit, facing the empty trees across the street.

We're quiet for the little while, but I'm itching to know why he's here... on my roof. I open my mouth and get a sound out at the same time he does. “Oh, go ahead,” I say.

“No, no, you,” he says,

“No, it's okay. You go.”

“Ladies first.”

“This is the 21st century, it doesn't apply,” I groan.

He smiles. “Just go, Lucy.”

“Fine... Why are you here?” I ask.

“...My mother gave birth to me,” Nate says decidedly.

“Okay, smart ass.” I roll my eyes.

“Lu,” he croons, nudging me with his shoulder.

“What is it, smart ass?” I ask the dead trees across the street.

“...I wanted to see you,” he covers my hand with his own and I swear it's like the world is in his hands, our hands.

“...is that so?”

“Yeah. Because I... I like you. And... this is like a date. On your roof.”

I flicker my eyes between his face—his face like a novel I'd read every day, over and over again—and the trees. I breathe.

“...is that creepy?” he asks and gets this frustrated/embarrassed/innocent look on his face. I laugh out loud and place my hand on his cheek, filing away in the back of my brain the feeling of his soft stubble.

“...no. No, it's... it's nice. You're nice,” I stutter, feeling a little scared as I look into his eyes, a dark, dark brown that go on for infinities.

“...you're nice too,” he breathes.

“...that sounds really lame,” I whisper back, leaning in a little.

“...would you believe me if I said I meant it to be?” he places his big, warm hand on my knee.

“...probably not, no.” I snort as our noses touch, his kind of crooked one to my kind of crooked one. I feel his breath on my lips.

“...that's okay, I—“ he starts.

“—shut up, Nate. Please please—“

And then our lips touch briefly, pressing lightly and then gone. “...was that okay?” Nate whispers.

I look up from his lips to his eyes. “...y-yeah. I—“

Our lips touch again and again. I don't know who started the little wildfire kisses, warming the roof under the moon that's so close and the empty trees across the street. I guess it doesn't really matter.

“Lucy.”

“Nate.”

“Lucy.”

“Nate?”

“Lucy.”

“What?”

“Someone's calling for you from inside.”

I lean back a little and glance at the window. I hear my mother shout 'Lucy' from a little ways beyond my room, it sounds like.

“Crap. Gotta go.” I scramble to the other side of the roof, turn back, kiss Nate one last time, dive through the window and slam it shut. I spring onto my bed and pick up my book, flipping to a page at random.

Mom opens the door and walks through. “Hey, I've been calling for you for like ten minutes.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows and set my book down on my pounding chest. “I didn't hear. Reading, y'know.”

She smiles a little. “Well, I was wondering if you have laundry you need done.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

She nods and then furrows her brow. “Are you wearing lipstick?” she asks.

My hand flies to my mouth. “Uh... yeah.”

“...try a little less next time. Bring down your laundry, okay?”

“Okay.”

Mom leaves, closing the door lightly behind her.

I breathe out heavily, dropping my head back on my pillow.

Then I remember Nate, drop my book all over again, and scramble off my bed. I throw open the window and stick my head out. “Nate?”

I look to the right, to the left. “...Nate?”

I climb out the window a little ways. “Na—“ There's a little piece of paper wedged between the shingles underneath my hand.

Gotta jet, Lu. How about we see each other somewhere that's not your roof sometime? Love, Smart Ass

I smile and look out over the street. There's a young man riding a bike in the middle of the empty road in the cool October evening. “Goodbye, Nathaniel.”

I slip the note into my jacket pocket and climb back inside my room, leaving the window cracked.

I could've spent an infinity on the roof, in his eyes.