Ivy of Our Hearts

Twenty-two

We pretended to be busy as they came in. Margaret went back to her book. She curled herself up on the couch like she'd been there all along. I put the dishes away. That alone distracted me from having to stare too long at the stranger. He wasn't much older than us. I guessed college aged, judging from the blond shadow along his jaw.

He waved at us. "I didn't think anyone else was here," he said, as if we were one of the trees he'd mentioned, popping up in his path.

I nodded at him and brought a stack of plates to the cabinet, where I made so much noise putting them away, I didn't hear Margaret's response. She might not have said anything at all. Once the dishes were put away, I took up the rag and wiped along the counter, anything to not have to appear too interested in him.

"Do you want something to drink?" Phillip asked. I let myself turn to see the stranger's response. I wanted to know how long he'd be here. Margaret closed her book. Even Manderley, who would have left Phillip's shoulder by now, eyed him warily.

He had his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and his slim lips were turned down into a frown. At Phillip's question, he nodded. Phillip took a pitcher of some clear liquid out of the fridge. I hadn't seen it before, but like his waffles it might have been a first of the month tradition. Yellow petals floated at the top of the pitcher.

"Ivy," he said. He gestured for me to take down some cups.

I took down four and brought them to the table. "I'm Simon," the stranger said, waving again at me and Margaret.

Phillip poured each cup full. He left the pitcher in the center of the table. "In case you guys want more," he said, his eyes glinting in a way that made me look on in admiration.

"Ivy," I said to Simon because it would have been rude not to. I pulled out a chair to sit and Simon took that as his cue. He came away from where he stood at the door, dropped his pack near the table, and sat across from me. With Manderley still on his shoulder, Phillip sat on Simon's left. Margaret stayed on the couch, but I doubted she'd open her book again until Simon left.

"That's some pet you've got there," Simon said to Phillip. "I don't think it's stopped staring at me since I got here. Can I pet it?"

Before Phillip could respond, Manderley flew from his shoulder to the coffee table. "I guess that's a no," Simon said. He laughed and rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb.

"She's shy around strangers," Phillip said.

I rested my chin in my palm, remembering how Manderley had cawed when I hadn't wanted to pet her. She was anything but shy.

"You guys staying up here yourselves?" Simon asked, pointing at both of us.

I didn't answer. I waited for Phillip to answer. Behind them, Margaret waited for him too. Manderley, who'd lost interest in Simon, pecked the coffee table. Phillip picked up his fizzling drink and gulped down half of it. Once he'd finished and the drink had been put back into the ring it had left on the table, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You guys look pretty young to be out here on your own," Simon continued. He gripped his cup but didn't pick it up.

"My aunt and uncle are staying with us, "Phillip said. "They went out to get some supplies. They should be back soon." He even glanced at the window, as if we should have been expecting them.

I raised my eyebrows, at which Phillip gave me a cold glare, a do not say anything glare. Simon nodded. Satisfied with this lie, he sipped his fizzling drink. Unsure of what I could say either way, I sipped my drink. We sipped our drinks, until our cups were empty.

Simon licked his lips clean. "Wow," he said. "What was that?" He held his cup up to his nose as if he could sniff out every ingredient. "I've never tasted anything like this in my life."

Without waiting for him to ask for more, Phillip grabbed the pitcher and refilled Simon's cup. Simon drank. In-between gulps he murmured, "Wow," yet again.

"It's a family recipe," Phillip said, smiling. He didn't refill his cup but traced the ring of it with his finger round and round.

I felt it, too, whatever Simon had exclaimed, whatever Phillip had put into the super sweet drink. I wanted more. My taste buds hadn't been satisfied. I pushed my cup forward to ask for more, but it came out as a hiccup. Embarrassed, I cupped my hand over my mouth. Giddy from his drink, Simon laughed. His cheeks flushed crimson.

"It isn't funny," I said.

"What was that, Ivy?" Phillip laughed, but unlike Simon's his remained cool and controlled. He did that thing with his brow, cocking it as if I were something strange and lovely, something to be explored. The star beneath my skin buzzed.

I took my hand away from my mouth because my own giggles had become too profuse to keep in. When I reached for the pitcher, I knocked over my cup, which sent Simon and me into even louder fits of laughter. My sides ached. My insides ached for more of Phillip, more of the drink, and more of the warmth.

Somehow, he'd found a way to puree happiness, to make it drinkable and we were drunk on it. It tasted like memories. It tasted like love and the scent of the woods when it rained, like White Gardenia and a little bit of honeysuckle.

"I think that drink went up to your brains," Margaret said, coming over to the table. She picked up her cup and took a sip, which led to another and another until her cheeks were as flushed as Simon's and when she laughed I swore it was like a thousand tiny bells, like what the stars would sound like if they could laugh.

"You have the prettiest laugh I've ever heard," Simon said, while pouring himself another cup, although he missed most of the cup. Margaret and I must have thought it was a silly thing to say because we laughed even harder.

"All right," Phillip said. He held up his hand. We fell silent. "Simon, I'll show you the way," he said, getting up from the table.

"I'd like to finish my cup first," Simon said. He took a swig and smacked his lips.

Margaret and I giggled. Phillip's hand fell onto his shoulder. "It's getting late," he said. "You don't want to be wandering at night. Like you said, the woods can play tricks on you."

Simon shrugged off Phillip's hand.

"It isn't late," Margaret said. "It's only..." She squinted at the clock. "It isn't late," she repeated. Phillip grabbed the cup from her hand. "Hey," she said. "I was having that."

He ignored her and tossed it into the sink. Before she or I could reach the pitcher, he took it from the table. "I'm banning you guys," he said. Margaret and I said, "No," in unison as he poured the rest of it into the sink. There was still a bit of it on the table where Simon had spilled his. I needed a drop.

"Simon," Phillip said. Across from me, Simon's head had begun to droop. His eyes were halfway open. Phillip snapped his fingers. "Hey, wake up. We're leaving now." He grabbed Simon under the arm and pulled him up.

"Hold on. Hold on. My backpack," Simon said. He attempted to reach for it but fell over, smacking his head on the end of the table. On the floor, he moaned. Phillip hoisted him up with one hand and grabbed his backpack with the other. "I've got you," he said. He whistled at Manderley, who stopped clawing the table to see what he wanted. "Keep an eye on them, would you?"

It became difficult for me to keep my head upright, and I thought I heard Manderley answer as a human would, "They aren't going anywhere." But that couldn't be right. Crows couldn't do that. Could they? As Phillip helped Simon out, Margaret fell into his chair. She rested her head on the table. I rested my head on the table as sleep overwhelmed me.

I didn't dream.