Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,14
grab the picture of Alex and me off the nightstand and show her.
Gracie plants her hands on her skinny hips. “You said you didn’t have a boyfriend!”
“I don’t! This is Alex. He and his mom, Luisa, live in the carriage house in our backyard. Luisa is our housekeeper, and Alex is my best friend. You’ll meet them at supper.”
“A boy best friend?” Gracie wrinkles her nose as she examines the picture. “Your dress is pretty.”
“Thank you.” It was bright pink with a V-neck and an A-line skirt that flared out when I twirled, and I twirled a lot that night. Claire went solo, and Abby went with her boyfriend, Ty, a friend of Alex’s from the baseball team. The five of us had dinner at the Crab Claw beforehand and went to the bonfire at the cove after. It was a pretty perfect night, right up until the very end.
I guess more-than-friendship had been brewing between Alex and me for a while, but that night it became impossible to ignore. It was there between us when Alex wrapped his arm around me as we posed for a million pictures for Granddad and Luisa, and it was there when we were dancing to a slow song, swaying together with my arms looped around his neck. As we were leaving the dance, he put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd, and it felt different. Possessive. Even though we’ve raced and wrestled and dunked each other about a million times, I suddenly felt so aware of his touch, his thumb brushing against the curve of my hip. Like he was claiming me as his.
I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Later, when he walked me to my door at three in the morning, he stopped and looked at me. Really looked, like I wasn’t the Ivy he’d been looking at his whole life—or maybe I was, but I was also more. Ivy-plus. He tucked my hair behind my ear, and his fingers hesitated on my neck. Then he leaned in, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
I ducked away and laughed. Told him his judgment had obviously been impaired by the beers he’d had at the bonfire. Told him we were friends, best friends, and I didn’t want to screw that up.
Then I ran inside like a third-grader scared of catching cooties.
It felt like the right decision then, and now that I’ve met my mother, I’m even more relieved that Alex and I are just friends. I don’t think I could handle any more big changes this summer.
I pull open the trapdoor in the ceiling and climb the stairs to the widow’s walk. Gracie follows me up. The briny air feels good after the stuffy heat of the attic. The white floorboards shine in the sun, surrounded by a waist-high fence. Gracie slides her starry, pink sunglasses back on, and together we squint out over the Bay.
I can see across the channel and down to the Garrettsons’ gray house. In the other direction is the old Moudowney place with its red barn and silo. Fields of corn and potatoes and soybeans stretch out like a green-and-gold patchwork quilt. Robert Moudowney was Dorothea’s lover—the one she wrote her most famous love poems about. They were in and out of each other’s houses when they were kids, then grew up and married other people, and then she took to sneaking over to his law office on Queen Street in the afternoons. She wasn’t real discreet about it. Dedicated her last book to him and everything. Granddad used to joke about me and Ian Moudowney getting married, but Ian came out as gay last spring, so that seems unlikely.
Gracie stares at the sun twinkling on the Bay. “Is that where you go swimming?”
“Yep.” I wonder if she knows why Erica won’t let her swim. I point to the brick carriage house in the backyard. “See that little house? That’s where Alex and Luisa live.”
Gracie twirls a strand of blond hair around her forefinger. “Does he have any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. Just him.”
Her little mouth twists. “Izzy is a pain, but I’m glad Mama didn’t let her stay in DC. I’d miss her too much.” She scuffs her pink sneakers against the floorboards. “Weren’t you lonely when Mama went to New York?”
Erica ran away in the middle of the night. Left me in the crib and left a note for Granddad on the kitchen table. Said she just couldn’t do