~
The next morning Caledonia dressed for school and went down to the kitchen boldly, with a stiff set to her shoulders. She was done being afraid, and now fully prepared to flex her newfound power.
“Good morning,” she told Angie.
When Phil looked up at her she cast him a withering glance filled with sour green fear, smiling to herself when she saw him look down and shrink away from her. She helped herself to an apple from the counter and sat down across from her aunt.
“I want my money back,” she announced. When Angie looked up at her, she received a strong pulse of tranquility, along with a sweet shade of lavender acquiescence. She smiled and nodded.
“Phil?” Angie asked dreamily, “Could you give Cal her money?”
Phil looked up in shock. “I thought we agreed …”
“Phil,” Cal said, holding out her hand with a threatening smile. “My money, please.”
He stared, and the longer he maintained eye contact the more afraid he became. He blinked, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. He looked to Angie for reassurance, but she was staring off into space, her head resting on her propped-up arm.
Caledonia snapped her fingers, catching Phil’s bulging eyes again. “Now.” Phil found himself reaching for his wallet, sweat beading on his upper lip. He knew something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t stop his shaking hand from opening the wallet and handing her the contents. He had a feeling that something awful might happen if he failed to comply, but he couldn’t think of what it might be.
Caledonia snatched the cash with a triumphant smile, leaning closer to send a punch of the most powerful black despair she could manage in Phil’s direction. She watched his face crumple, and she told herself that he deserved it. Despite everything he’d done to terrorize her, she still felt a twinge of guilt; she’d never done anything so intentionally cruel before.
She pocketed the money and walked out the front door, her head held high. When she neared his house, Cal was waiting out front, and even from a distance she could see that he was pacing, agitated.
“What happened?” she asked, surprised to find him so worked up. “What’s wrong?”
His anxious eyes searched hers. “I was worried about you,” he said.
“Why?” she asked, confused.
“You left so suddenly last night …”
She looked down, her face flushing hot, remembering her humiliation. She kicked at the ground, resolute. “Can we not talk about it?”
She had already decided that they would only ever be friends, but when she looked back into his face he was blazing with the strongest, most powerful affection and concern she’d seen since her parents last looked at her.
“Why do you like me so much?” she wondered out loud.
He chuckled, and then he started laughing, slow at first and then harder as she joined in. Soon they were both immersed in a soothing turquoise sea of amusement. He handed her a helmet, climbing on the bike and starting it up.
“Get on,” he told her, eager to feel her touch.
She climbed behind him, putting her book bag between them and taking him by the waist. She felt him leaning back into her, his broad shoulders warm against hers. He was vibrating with the most delicious shade of fuscia she’d ever tasted, and when they made contact she could feel him sigh with relief.
She sighed too, because his colors made her feel the most contented she’d been since before the accident. As much as she was afraid to admit it, it felt like somebody loved her, and the feeling was intoxicating. They arrived at school much too soon.
He pulled into the lot but didn’t cut the engine. He turned around, murmuring in her ear, “Do you want to just bag it and go to the art museum today? In San Francisco?”
He was radiating warm affection and hope. Caledonia looked at the low grey institutional buildings of school and back at him. She chose happiness.
He smiled his relief, pulling back out onto the road. Within a few minutes he had dropped off her bag at his house and handed her a leather jacket. “It’s gonna be cold.”
They headed down the highway, passing by hills and valleys, towns and farm fields. The air grew cooler and then moist. Caledonia pressed her face between Calvin’s shoulder blades, tasting the salt in the air mingled with his easy blue contentment. Then they rounded one last corner, and the view that unfolded before them made her gasp.
She clutched him tighter with excitement as she took in the endless expanse of deep blue water. She’d seen pictures of the sea, but they hadn’t prepared her for its sheer majesty, and she drank it in, her heart swelling with joy. Calvin pulled off the freeway just before they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco, coming to a stop at a lookout point.
He pulled off his helmet. “Are you okay?”
She followed suit, scrambling off the bike to rush to the edge of the walkway. Leaning against the rail, she took in the panoramic view, breathing in the cool fresh sea air through her nose. She turned back to Calvin with an enormous smile, and he came over to join her.
“Let me guess.” He grinned his lopsided grin at her, coming up close to stand by her side.
“I never thought it would look so … so big,” she said.
Calvin looked out at the horizon, trying to imagine how it would seem to him if he’d never seen it before. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, wanting to be as near to her as he could possibly be. They stood there for a few minutes, hip to hip, and she shivered a little bit with an unfamiliar happiness.
Emboldened, he turned towards her. “Are you cold?” he asked, his breath warm in her ear. She froze, thinking she had to keep control of herself; they were, after all, only two good friends out on an adventure. She didn’t realize that he was about to lean in for a kiss when she turned her face away, cringing into her shoulder.
“No … I’m just happy,” she told him.
He was unable to resist brushing his lips across her hair, finally sighing, “Ready to see the museum?”
She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Completely.”
They crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge and entered into the hustle and bustle of the city. Once again, Caledonia carefully observed all the new sights and sounds. They drove through a vast park, winding past botanical gardens and paths crowded with joggers and dog walkers.
Calvin pulled up and parked close to a large modern building. He climbed off the bike, stowing their helmets and stretching out his arms. He held his hand out with a smile. “Knife, please. They don’t like them in museums either.”
“People fight in museums?” she asked, horrified.
“No. But they might damage the art.” The shocked disbelief on her face made him realize exactly what a crazy world it was.
“I don’t have it with me today,” she told him.
“Why not?” he asked.
She thought about her newfound powers. “Because I’m not afraid anymore.”
They wandered across the grounds, and he took hold of Caledonia’s hand, watching her head swivel around, taking in as much as she could. Walkways lined with tall palm trees and fountains led them to a pair of sphinxes, standing guard over the wide stairs leading to the entrance. She laughed and climbed up onto one of the giant statues, smiling down at him, bursting with peachy pink joy.
She slid down from her perch, looking at the other people coming into the entrance. “I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately,” she worried, looking down at her worn jeans.
“You’re perfect,” he told her, taking her hand to lead her inside.
They walked into the museum, wandering from gallery to gallery and pointing out their favorite paintings and sculptures to each other. Calvin showed Caledonia things he remembered from a visit long ago, and she saw his colors cloud over with a melancholy blue.
“My mom liked museums,” he said. “She used to take me here a lot when I was a little kid.”
“You must miss her.” She
squeezed his hand gently, soothing him.
“Yeah,” he smiled sadly at her, “I do.”
It felt good to acknowledge it, and his mood lightened. As usual, being with Caledonia had stirred up more submerged memories. They bubbled up to the surface along with a rush of conflicting emotions; around her, feelings were as difficult to contain as the dancing mercury of a broken thermometer.
Caledonia seemed to know everything about the paintings and the artists that created them. She was like a museum docent, relating little anecdotes about the historical era they lived in, what their families were like, and whether or not their lives had ended happily.
“How do you know all this stuff?” he asked.
“I’ve read a lot of books about art,” she explained. “And there was a lot about artists in the encyclopedia too.”
“What, did you read the whole encyclopedia?” he teased her.
“Yes,” she replied, completely serious.
“How do you remember it all?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do.”
They strolled past a painting of primitively rendered jungle animals, and Caledonia stopped abruptly, gasping in surprise.
Calvin read the nameplate aloud, “The Peaceable Kingdom. Hicks. 1846.”
She latched onto his hand tighter than she ever had before.
“What is it?” he asked.
She took a deep breath, “We had a copy of this picture hanging in our house … Mama cried when Papa brought it home.” She stared at it with shining eyes. “She told me that he took her to a museum on their first date. It must have been this one. They must have stood right here … on this exact spot.”
He understood the feeling, slipping his arm around her waist to draw her closer. She smiled up at him. “Thank you so much for bringing me here.”
He looked down at her, thinking he’d never seen anything so beautiful. He couldn’t stand it anymore, and he bent down to kiss her softly on the lips.
Her amazing eyes flew open wide with surprise, but she did not pull away, so he turned to wrap his arms around her, pulling her up against him. His kiss deepened, and then she was drowning in the sensation of his lips, his tongue, and his breath mingling with hers. She could see why all the other girls liked it so much.
He reached up to caress her cheek and rake his fingers through her hair, flooding her senses with the most delicious red she’d ever tasted. Her knees buckled, and he dropped his hands to her waist, steadying her and bringing her closer at the same time. When their lips finally parted they were both panting.
He pressed his cheek to hers. “Whoa,” he whispered into her ear.
A museum guard strolled past them, clearing his throat pointedly, and they collected themselves, walking hand in hand through several more galleries in a daze. They rounded a corner into an unattended room full of African masks and he was all over her once again, taking her face in both hands and kissing her again like it was the first time.
Calvin never wanted to stop; it was like the floodgates had opened up, and all of his suppressed desires overcame him. He looked into her innocent eyes and his heart swelled with the power of his newfound feelings. She blushed self-consciously, and he pulled back, trying to get control of himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Caledonia was dazed too, overwhelmed by the intensity of their flaming emotions. “Why?” she asked, “Am I doing it wrong?”
He held her close and started laughing, shaking her with the force of it. Soon they were both laughing with happiness, drawing the attention of the museum guard. They straightened up and moved through the gallery, with Calvin trying his best to pay attention to the art and keep his lips away from her soft pink mouth. They passed through an archway into a gallery of art from Oceania, and came to a display case of shields and masks carved of wood, alongside planks and oars decorated with swirling waves, triangles, and rows of dots.
“Look!” she said, pointing out the carvings on the side of a ceremonial drum. “It’s the same as your tattoo.” She leaned in, reading the description of the piece.
Calvin looked closely, surprised to see the exact same design he was wearing on his arm.
“It says it’s for honoring ancestors,” she smiled up at him, “so it’s perfect for your mom.”
He stood behind her, taking her by the waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He read the description along with her, amazed at the coincidence. He wouldn’t have known a thing about it if it wasn’t for her, and he felt like it was some kind of sign.
“All of this stuff is in their permanent collection,” Caledonia said quietly. “So that means that my parents saw it too.”
Standing there, wrapped in Calvin’s arms, Caledonia was happier than she could ever remember being. She leaned back into him and he pressed into her; before too long he was kissing her neck and ear, his warm lips making her dizzy.
He burrowed his face into her hair. “You smell so good,” he murmured.
“It’s the pheromones,” she replied.
“The what?” he laughed.
“You know … chemicals.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s you.” He kissed her behind the ear, making her giggle. She sighed with pleasure and melted into him. The museum guard strolled past them again, his footfall pointedly loud.
“Let’s get out of here,” Calvin whispered into her ear.
They walked out into the bright shining day, arms locked together.
“Have you ever heard of Fisherman’s Wharf?” he asked her.