Through Glass Read online

  To Daniel

  Who puts up with me.

  Everyone remembered the day the sky went black. The day the sun was wiped from the sky. They remember the wind as it brought in the darkness; the way the earth shook and everything changed.

  Everyone remembered the screams as the darkness ate those who were out in the open, those who had surrounded themselves by light, and those who made noise.

  Everyone remembered the voice from the sky and the way food disappeared.

  At least, that’s what I hoped. I hoped that there was an ‘everyone’ that would remember because I am not sure how many are left, how many survived. Or if anyone did.

  I hoped that I wasn’t alone.

  I remembered that day.

  I remembered because it was the day I became alone.

  It was the day that everything was perfect until the monsters took it away. The house went silent and the birds stopped singing. It was the day everyone disappeared, everyone except Cohen who was the only person I had seen in two years.

  I had seen him every day; and each day, I think of that last, perfect day and of that kiss I had stolen from him.

  It made it so I was not alone in the dark, even though I was. Because Cohen was not really here. He is there, just through the glass.

  I had thrown the window to my bedroom open, letting the fresh spring air swirl into the room as I only partially attempted to finish my Trig homework before school tomorrow. I didn’t want to admit that I had given up on school, but it was only a month before graduation and it was getting harder and harder to focus. Not like the warm weather was helping much, either.

  I stared at the block letters of my name and tried to focus through numbers and cosines, but nothing was taking. They all blended together into jumbled squiggles. I didn’t really know why I was still trying. I had already secured my 4.0 and the last term didn’t matter. At least that’s what Cohen had always told me, but my mom had a different idea.

  Either way, I already had my acceptance letter to The University of Cincinnati.

  I perched myself on the old kitchen chair I used at my desk and let the numbers turn into a blur again. I briefly contemplated if I should continue my final project on avian mythology before I became lost in the smell of spring lilacs that filled my room.

  I breathed in the fresh scent and leaned against the back of the chair, my eyes closing as I absorbed the smell I loved so much.

  We had planted the lilac bush right below my window when my grandmother had passed away, and every year it blossomed in the spring. This year, though, for some reason it had held off and waited to bloom until just a few days ago, even though summer was almost here. Not that I was complaining. It made the room smell like a salon and gave me even more of a reason to keep the window open.

  I hated being indoors for too long. It made me feel like a trapped animal, which probably meant it was good that I lived in a warm climate. I would go mad being shut indoors for months on end. Plus, the cold. Ew. I didn’t know how some people did it. That only made it even more ridiculous that I would be trucking myself off to Ohio. I’d been told it snows there. Ugh.

  “Alexis!”

  I jumped at my name, practically falling off my chair as I turned toward my door, expecting to see my dad scowling at me for whatever reason. However, the door was closed.

  “Alexis!”

  The voice came again and I jumped even more; the action sending the chair sideways while someone else’s laughter filled my room as I tumbled to the floor.

  Oh, no way. I knew where the voice was coming from now; that menace. I jumped up as indignantly as I could with my long, red hair fanning around me. As I turned toward my window, I came face to face with the object of my unobstructed infatuation since fifth grade.

  I hadn’t seen him in months, not since he came home for Christmas break bearing gifts not only for me, but all four of my younger brothers.

  “Cohen! You’re back,” I practically yelled at him, my excitement at seeing him making my words twice as loud as they needed to be.

  “Took you long enough to figure out it was me, firecracker,” he teased, flashing me his bright white smile. I only scowled in return, the subtle reminder of my irritating hair color unwelcome. He only smiled more, obviously glad his jab had wound its way under my skin. My irritation instantly melted. It was hard to stay mad at him when he smiled like that.

  I smiled at him, my heart beating heavily at how familiar he was. He looked almost the same as he had the last time I’d seen him; his eyes dark enough to match the black of his hair. His ebony hair was still short and casual. However his jawline, complete with the scratchy stuff of a few days growth, seemed stronger and more defined. It made him look like a younger version of the Brawny man. I liked it. Everything about him was familiar and warming while at the same time different and older.

  I tried not to focus on the super sexy attempt at a beard he had going on; or the way the short, patchy scruff darkened his features when he smiled, but I could already tell it was a lost cause.

  “Got back a couple hours ago. Nan was making me do laundry or I would have stopped by to pester you sooner. I guess college kids smell.” He smiled again and moved to sit on the large desk in front of his window, the same way we had always done.

  I moved to mirror him, fully aware I was wearing my fuzzy pink pajama pants, but not caring. Cohen and I had done this since the day he moved in with his grandparents after his parents died eleven years ago. We would sit for hours in our windows and “shoot the ten foot gap”, as my mom called it. I didn’t even have curtains in my room until I hit puberty and became aware that a boy was able to look in my window.

  “They do smell. In fact, you should probably stay over there.” I smiled at him, but he only laughed.

  “Not me, I’ve been scrubbed by the ultimate authority in clean. Nan pulled out the bleach and everything.”

  “Well, if she has done to you what she does to her kitchen, then I will have to take your word for it.” I swung my legs over the window sill, letting them dangle over the fifteen or so feet to the unkempt lawn below. It was a good thing I had never developed any vertigo or that would make this whole thing much more uncomfortable.

  “I smell all lemony, Lex; you should come take a whiff.” Cohen lifted his arms and took an over-exaggerated inhale from each arm. I was torn between laughing and making gagging sounds.

  What resulted was a sort of dying bird squawk that reduced to coughs as I choked on my own spit.

  How attractive.

  “You okay?” Cohen asked, his dark eyes crinkling as he laughed.

  “Yeah, I guess I forgot how to breathe there,” I said weakly, still trying to figure out how to use my lungs.

  “I hear I have that effect on girls,” he said it flippantly, the smile obvious on his face. However, my body had a completely different reaction.

  I froze, I knew he meant it as a joke—an offhand comment—but I couldn’t stop the painful, seven piece band my heart was now participating in. My face froze in place as I glared at him. I’m pretty sure my jaw was also hanging open a bit more than what would normally be deemed natural.

  He smiled, a small laugh escaping him and I cringed. The seven piece band ceasing automatically and letting my heartbeat regulate.

  I really wished I would have gotten over this ridiculous infatuation by now, but no, I had to be tormented.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I had a crush on him. I simply knew he didn’t have a crush on me. If you ever need to be put in your place, ask your best friend to a dance in front of all of his friends. I think I hit the “friend zone” faster than any girl in history.

  “So, how is college?” I asked before he could say anything relating to the friendship he
hoped to continue with me.

  I just hoped my hit-by-a-truck expression wasn’t too obvious.

  “Great,” he said. My nerves loosened in the hope that he really hadn’t noticed. “Except for the core stuff. If I could sit in art class all day, I would. Have you decided where you are going yet?”

  “Not yet,” I lied, knowing full well my mom had framed my acceptance letter to The University of Cincinnati and hung it in my room.

  I just couldn’t tell him where I was going. It wasn’t a logical choice for a middle class girl from Texas. Cohen had chosen the University of Cincinnati because of their advanced School of the Arts. I chose Cincinnati because of Cohen.

  I knew it, my mom knew it, my other best friend, Sarah, knew it. I simply didn’t need Cohen knowing it.

  “There is always The University of Cincinnati,” he said and I almost fell out the window. My stomach swam uncomfortably at his words. I wanted to say he was just kidding, but the look in his eyes made me re-think that thought.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” I said softly, trying to fight the tomato red blush that was creeping its way up my face.

  That could come off as stalkerish and creepy and I fully expected Cohen to take it that way. Instead of balking and moving away, though, he leaned out the window until it looked like he was going to fall out and smiled.

  “Think hard about it, Lex.”

  It was probably a miracle that I hadn’t tumbled out of the window with the look he gave me. My fingers clenched the wooden frame as I attempted to steady myself. The smile that was now lining my face was probably a bit bigger than would be considered normal.

  “Oh, I will, but I’m thinking of staying close to home,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “You know, where it’s warm.”

  “It’s warm in Ohio,” Cohen countered, one side of his lips pulling up.

  I tried not to smile too much at the way his scruff crinkled with the smile. Instead I chose to look at his charcoal stained fingers as they tapped against the window frame.

  “I’m sure it is,” I said, my focus still on his fingers. “Tell me, Cohen, did it snow this winter?”

  “It did, Alexis. Big, beautiful white flakes that clung to everything, but don’t worry about that; I’ll keep you warm.” He smiled and I couldn’t help it, I laughed even though my nerves had gone back to their gymnastics meet.

  I laughed, big loud and unattractive, and only a few seconds later he joined in. I wanted to believe that he was being cute and flirty, but I knew better. Besides, Cohen had never said anything like that ever. The mere fact that it had come out of his mouth was more humorous than anything.

  “Don’t laugh, firecracker.” He fought the chuckle that was still sneaking its way into his voice. “I have a very effective space heater…”

  The rest of his words died in my ears as my laughter and my mom’s call for dinner over-powered them. He was only talking about a space heater, not some form of uncomfortable (while still desirable) blanket sharing. Which was probably best, I might be begging for use of his space heater in six months’ time.

  “Lex…” he growled and I looked at him, stabilizing myself against the window frame in an attempt to keep my laughter in. “I’m serious.”

  “Uh-huh, and I have the plague.” I smiled brightly and he rolled his eyes just as my mom’s voice sounded again; she was louder and decidedly angrier this time.

  I sighed unattractively and swung my legs back onto my desk just as the sound of my mom’s footsteps sounded on the staircase. That was one big downfall of living in such an old house; not only was it small, but every noise echoed around the rooms like it was happening right next to you.

  “I gotta go,” I sighed, sure my voice sounded much more dejected than I wanted it to. Cohen’s face went from smiling to pensive dejection so fast it made my heart clench.

  “Dinner,” I provided as if that made it all better.

  “Well, you better come right back. I have a job for you.” His bright smile shone from across the ten foot gap.

  “A job?” I asked as I slid off the desk to face him.

  My mom yelled again, her voice loud at the top of the stairs. I wanted to turn toward her—to be the obedient child I always was—but I couldn’t make myself move. Not yet.

  “Yeah, so don’t be too long. My slave laborers normally don’t get dinner breaks.” He smiled again as my jaw dropped, the odd, spluttering sounds coming from my mouth again.

  “Slave laborer!” I tried to regain control, but nothing seemed to be cooperating and my fire-hot temper bubbled uncomfortably.

  “Smile, firecracker,” he said, his smile leaving me sputtering as he waved to my mom, who I was sure was right behind me. Then, he left his room.

  How did he always get under my skin? And for the stupidest things, too. Ugh.

  The job that Cohen had planned for me happened to be just sitting in my windowsill and talking to him while he painted, no slave labor involved. Besides, it’s not like I really minded doing it.

  I loved watching him while he worked.

  I loved watching how his hands moved, how his finger curled. He was so gentle when he painted. Seeing him like this, it was who he really was; not the loud obnoxious boy that had run for class president and streaked at a football game. Just Cohen. As much as he liked to poke fun and joke. This was Cohen; gentle and kind and creative. Everything about him was incredibly soft as he focused, his fingers floating through the air with the smudges of charcoal on his fingertips.

  No matter how hard he tried, he could never get the dark marks off. I had even helped him on several occasions, the abrasive soap drying out my skin. The charcoal smudges stayed stained into his fingers, my skin peeling until Cohen had brought me some heavy paraffin lotion. He had rubbed it into my fingers for hours while we watched Pride and Prejudice; dutifully sitting next to me for all of it, only leaving when he tried to hide his tears. It didn’t work, though, I could still see the redness in his dark eyes when he came back. Seeing him like that had sent my heart pulsing at the heavy compassion and love for him that had found its way into the deep pit of my heart.

  I would always remember that night—that uncontrollable emotion that had taken a hold of me then—when I watched him work. I could still see the same passion in his eyes as I had during that movie, just like now. I watched the dark smears on his fingers, the smudge of green on his forehead that only made him look darker, dangerous… more desirable.

  I pushed the thought away for the hundredth time, trying to focus on something other than the way merely talking to him made my heart beat in a comfortable way; it was as though everything in the world would always be perfect as long as Cohen was there. Like the way his smile supercharged that feeling.

  Even though he had been gone for almost a full year, nothing had changed between us. Crush and all, everything was the same, and I was already afraid to lose that. We talked while he sketched; as we had done through most of middle and high school. It was tradition and as normal as breathing.

  I balled up another piece of paper from my notebook and hocked it at him over the gap. The paper swirled through the breeze, spinning until it zoomed right between the canvas and his nose.

  He froze mid-stroke and slowly turned to scowl at me, his eyes narrowing playfully. I was torn between laughter and guilt; so instead, I settled for sitting still while I let the blush seep onto my cheeks.

  “If you keep doing that, Lex, I am going to give you a crooked nose,” he said through his smirk, his smile only growing before he turned back to the canvas.

  My joy faded as his words sunk in. My nerves began jittering through me as I clung to the windowsill I was sitting on.

  “What?” I asked, my alarm peaking as my voice reached an octave I was sure wasn’t present a moment before. “You aren’t really drawing me, are you?”

  Cohen didn’t even look at me. He smiled and my stomach fell fifteen feet onto the lilac bush somewhere below. He couldn’t be drawing me. H
e couldn’t. I wanted to be flattered or excited, yet the emotions wouldn’t come. I had seen the type of talent Cohen had and I wasn’t really that type of material. That simple thought brought me right back down to earth. Obviously he wasn’t drawing me, he was merely a lying jerk.

  I scowled at him a little harder than was necessary, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t even looking at me anyway.

  “No, you aren’t,” I said, thoroughly aware that I sounded a little too “third grade”. Cohen only smiled more.

  “Yes, I am, firecracker, see.” He waved a paint brush with bright red paint on it through the air for me to see. “Firecracker red.”

  Firecracker.

  It’s what he called me every time he wanted to dig underneath my skin, letting loose the temper I always tried so hard to keep hidden. Only he could do that, irritatingly enough.

  “No,” I gasped, caught between laughing and screaming at him. I could already feel my temper bubbling uncomfortably.

  “Yes,” he said, his dark eyes looking over at me for a fraction of a second before darting back to the canvas in front of him. “And I’m putting you in a green dress…”

  “No!” I shrieked, my head spinning as my pulse quickened.

  “Red hair, green dress…” Cohen continued, he wasn’t even paying any attention to me, which only made my temper bubble more. I wanted to laugh. I begged myself to calm down, but seeing that wicked smirk on his face did not help at all.

  “I’ll look like a leprechaun,” I hissed, my hands automatically moving to ball up more paper. Darn him for being so far away from me; he deserved a good slug in the arm. Why did he always do this to me?

  “Okay, firecracker, you tell me when you finally grow above five feet and I will paint you in grey not green.”

  “I’m five-four, Cohen!” My temper finally hit its boiling point and I shrieked, my voice ringing in the stifling summer air that surrounded us.

  “Chill, Lex.” Cohen’s voice lowered from his dark teasing to the calm that could only be found after the red-headed storm he had brewed showed up. “It’s not you. It’s just a landscape.”