The Feel of Water

Seventeen - God Bless Our Young Souls

I remember when Alisha told me that when she sleeps, she rarely has dreams. I didn't understand. How could someone not dream when they sleep? When I slept, I was constantly dreaming, constantly somewhere whether it be good or bad. I remember times when nightmares plagued my sleep for days and I would wake up in the middle of the night, too scared to go back to sleep. It happened after my parents died, after Emilie's break, and a few other stressful times. I would lay in bed, scared stiff, and force my eyes to stay open no matter how badly they wanted to close. Sometimes, if I fell back asleep, the nightmare would resume. I would be trapped in my own head again, tormented by myself.

I finish getting ready by having Tammy blow-out my hair. She works both the blow dryer and a round brush in ways that my arms and wrists refuse to bend. She always likes it when I let her help me. She likes it when I doll myself up.

"Just a minute," she mumbles, focused.

"He's going to be here any second."

"Dani, Dani I know, okay? Just a minute. Just a minute. One more little, oh, wow, that one was good. Look at that. Ah! I love it. Flawless."

"Tammy, please," I beg, my butt aching from sitting in her make-shift salon for so long. I shift and scoot every couple minutes in search of some relief.

Emilie pops her head into the bathroom, watches for a moment, then says, "You look really pretty. Like an angel."

"Thanks. I think the girls might die when they see me. The last time I put in this much effort was freshman homecoming."

"Oh no, when you wore that dress. That-that ugly dress with the stripes and the rhinestones." She laughs a little, her nose scrunching. "Yeah that was bad."

"Why did you let me wear it, again?"

"Because when we walked in together, you would make me look even better," Emilie recalls, guilty.

"That's right. That's right. I remember now."

"Forget about that," she says, ignoring my sarcasm, "because right now, you look better than I ever did. You just look gorgeous, Dani."

Tammy shuts off the blow dryer and my face lights up. "Okay, all done," she says, freeing me. "Run along."

Emilie sits with me while I strap on my shoes in the living room, struggling with the tiny buckles on my ankle. Eventually, she takes my foot and does both for me. I watch as she expertly buckles them then drops my feet to the floor.

"Sean Donovan, huh?" She considers.

"Yes, Emilie. We've been over this many times now. I'm going with him."

"I remember him from when I went there, and let me tell you-"

The doorbell cuts her off, saving me from a long sisterly speech about which boys I should be spending my time with and which boys I'm better off without. I check my phone but see no text message from him about being here. Emilie leaps to the window, peeks out and whispers rapidly that it's him.

I shoo her away with my hands, getting up and straightening myself out before opening the door. I do so in one brave swing, revealing a version of Sean that just might be my favorite. He stands in a pair of perfectly-fitting black dress pants with a black dress-shirt that somehow fits even more perfectly. He looks crisp, unbothered like a model posing effortlessly in a magazine. I snap myself out of my trance and step out of the door, closing it behind me to avoid Tammy and Emilie from eavesdropping.

His eyes soak me up, looking over my long, red dress and wonderfully blown-out hair courtesy of Tammy's master suite salon. We stand for a moment, neither of us saying anything, but both thinking the same thing.