Unteachable by Leah Raeder

Author:Leah Raeder
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Velvet Pony Press
Published: 2013-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

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The day was half gone when I woke. Evan was up already, working on school stuff. He called me sleepyhead and kissed me and sat on the bed to watch me dress. Funny, how even clothes going on my body was absolutely mesmerizing to him.

We walked around the neighborhood in search of food. The city looked like an old-time photograph tinted the colors of coins, silver and nickel, its edges blurred with mist. Headlights made bright lighthouse beacons in the fog. We walked close and slow, arms around each other’s waists. Trees still saturated with rain from last night seemed to glow a hyper-pigmented green. The streets were full of a dizzying brew of wet concrete and brick and asphalt. On one side of my body, Evan’s heat; on the other, the cool lick of rain-dampened air.

We bought coffee and almond croissants at a cafe and sat on the patio, watching the world flow past.

“I got you something,” Evan said.

He took his hand from his pocket, something small and shiny in his fingers.

My body went into slow-motion. I looked up at him slowly, breathed slowly, felt the long, slow strokes of my heart ticking like a close-up clock in a movie.

“I was going to give it to you yesterday,” he said, eyes lowered, “but the timing wasn’t right.” He turned the ring in his fingers. “I keep pretending I’m okay, looking at you in class and playing Mr. Good Teacher, when all I want to do is take you in my arms. And I wanted you to know that even though we have to do this, the hiding and pretending, there’s not a moment that goes by when I’m not thinking of you, wishing it was different. So I thought maybe this would remind you. That this could hold you when I couldn’t.”

He finally raised his eyes. He looked so young right then.

“Do you know how to wear this?” he said.

I laughed, part disbelief, part giddy wonder. “I’m fucking Irish, Evan. Of course I know.”

He smiled. He knew I did.

It was a silver Claddagh ring: two hands clasping a heart with a crown atop it. Every part of it was symbolic: the heart stood for love; the hands, friendship; the crown, loyalty. Depending on how you wore it, it meant different things. On your left hand, heart pointing out, it meant you were engaged; heart in, married. On your right hand, heart out meant you were looking for love; heart in, you were in love.

He held the ring out to me, and I took it, swallowing. My skin flashed hot and cold at the same time. This, I thought, is going to become a memory: the way I’m shivering but so warm inside, the way the sky is trembling above us, threatening rain, and the way your eyes are bluer than I’ve ever seen. I slid the ring onto my right ring finger, its heart pointing inward, toward mine.

Our gazes met across the table. There were a million things I wanted to say at the same time, so I said nothing.

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