The Past-Life Chronicles

3

Unlike my mother, I seldom wear jewelry, but this evening feels different. I've changed into a vintage black cocktail dress I found at Goodwill two years ago, with a modest lace collar that rises to the neck. It's cute but plain, and needs a bit of sparkle. I fumble with the clasp of the silver charm bracelet I'm trying to put on. I'm out-of-practice with girly stuff—hairstyling, nail-painting, jewelry-wearing. Since I rarely go out, I seldom bother.

Giving up, I push open my door and head up the hall. I hear someone rustling papers in the living room, and assume it's Mom paging through one of her SageWoman magazines. "Hey, can you help me with this?" I call.

The head that turns when I enter the living room isn't the curly brown mane I expected. Henry is on the sofa with a pile of medical textbooks spread out over the coffee table. He glances over his shoulder at my request.

Before I can say never mind, he sets his spiral notebook aside. "Sure, what do you need?"

I hesitate. "You don't know how to fasten a bracelet, do you?"

He snorts. "Do I look like I was raised by wolves?"

I appraise him in his gray track pants and mismatched navy hoodie. That shaggy hair, too... "Possibly." I feel my mouth quirk.

"You're ridiculous." He gets up from the sofa. I hold out my wrist, pinching the ends of the band together with my other hand. Gently, he takes them from me. "What's the occasion?" His brown eyes rake over me, making me feel slightly self-conscious, before refocusing on the clasps. "Dresses and jewelry aren't very Willowy."

My eyebrow lifts. Just because we've lived together for a year doesn't mean he knows what's 'Willowy' or not. Does it?

"Just dinner guests. Are you eating with us?"

His brow is rumpled in concentration as he fastens the delicate ends of the bracelet. "Uh...maybe I'll have leftovers. I've got a lot of studying to do."

"Got it," I say, both in response to his answer and to the sound of the clasps connecting. "Thanks."

He holds my wrist for a moment, examining the charms that dangle from the band. There's an eight-pointed faerie star, the Om symbol, angel wings, and a crescent moon. It was a gift from—who else?—Mom.

"Hmm," he utters curiously, letting go.

I bring my arm to my side, only noticing how warm his hand felt when he's no longer touching me.

"You know, Willow..." He chases back his unkempt hair with his fingers, only for it to fall out of place again. Circles beneath his eyes make him look wan, and I know he must've been studying his tail off since early this morning. This morning, when... "If you want to learn how to drive, I can teach you."

It isn't the first time he's offered. But this time feels genuine, like there're no ulterior motives. "I know," I reply quietly. "But the obstacle for me isn't so much learning how as it is overcoming the fear of learning. Does that make sense?"

He looks square into my eyes when he insists, "There's nothing to be afraid of."

You're wrong, I think automatically. I don't know why; it seems irrational of me, yet it's my first reaction.

The doorbell rings, interrupting us.

"Oh," Henry mumbles. "I should get my crap out of here." He gathers his textbooks off the coffee table. I help him, adding the last of his books and notebook to the stack in his arms.

He disappears down to the bottom level of the house. He'll probably spend all weekend holed up in his bedroom, studying. And I think, as I go to answer the door, that maybe he and I aren't so unalike.