Part 38 (2/2)
”That makes y'all pretty old, doesn't it?” Joanie says.
”Feels like you were just born, Hannah,” her mom continues.
”It was one of the two best days of my life,” her dad says, smiling at Hannah and Joanie.
Baker sits next to her on the back porch steps later that night. ”Can I give you your birthday present?” she says, her voice breathless.
They walk in silence up the stairs to Hannah's bedroom, their hands clasped between them, a growing excitement, a restless energy, palpable on the air between their bodies. Baker guides Hannah to sit on the bed and closes the door behind them, her chest heaving with breaths. Then she crosses to the far side of the room and opens the windows.
The room swells with humidity and the scent of flowers and the song of crickets. Baker comes back to the bed and places her palm over Hannah's heart-Hannah can feel it drumming within her-and eases her down onto her back.
”I couldn't figure out what to get you,” Baker says, pus.h.i.+ng Hannah's hair back from her face. ”What do you get for the person who gave you everything?”
Hannah's arms begin to shake, but this time she is not afraid.
”And I realized,” Baker says, taking a breath, ”that there's one thing I haven't truly given you yet, and that's me. My self. My whole self. Without the fear or the shame. Just with love, and abandon.” Her voice shakes, but her eyes are clear. ”Is that okay?”
Her words sling through the room with the force of David's stone, defiant and brave. Hannah searches her eyes and finds a new light in them. Not the desperate one, full of shame, but the light of love, the light that rolls aside the stone, that pierces the tomb to find the miracle of salvation.
”That's all I've ever wanted,” Hannah says.
Baker kisses her with tenderness. Hannah feels the weight of Baker's body on her torso, pressing against her ribs and stomach, warming her. They kiss, and then they move their hands over each other's clothes, and then they are naked on the bed, their bodies cupped together and open to the outside world.
And Hannah finds herself praying again, and she feels G.o.d coursing through her body and blood, but this time she knows it's with jubilation.
”You're crying,” Baker says.
Hannah raises a hand to her own cheek. She touches the tears and laughs in disbelief. ”Yeah,” she says, her voice wet, ”but I think it's in a good way.”
Baker's smile starts small, just her lips parted in wonder, but then it grows until it lights up her whole face.
”I love you,” she says.
”I love you,” Hannah says.
And they show each other.
And then it's the second Friday of August, and Baker has to start freshman orientation on Monday. Hannah sits on Baker's bed while Baker darts distractedly around her bedroom, categorizing her belongings into piles of toiletries and clothes and school supplies and cleaning products.
”I pity your roommate,” Hannah says. ”You're gonna color coordinate her closet while she's out of the room, and then she's gonna come back and not know how to find her own clothes.”
”I pity your roommate,” Baker says while she fits her shampoo into a shower caddy. ”You're going to scare her off with all your bad puns. She'll be terrified to have a conversation with you.”
Hannah narrows her eyes. Baker looks up from where she's seated on the floor, and she shakes her head and says, ”Oh, no. Don't even.”
”What?”
”I know what you're doing. You're trying to make a pun about something. I can tell by your expression.”
”I am not,” Hannah laughs.
”You so are.”
”Fine.”
The corners of Baker's mouth lift. ”Did you come up with anything?”
”No,” Hannah admits. She pauses. ”I've had a hard time concentrating lately.”
Baker's smile falters. She drops her hand from the shower caddy. ”We're gonna be fine, Han,” she says. ”We're going to miss each other, but we'll be fine.”
”I know,” Hannah says. ”I'm just not looking forward to the missing each other part.”
”Me neither.”
Hannah chews the inside of her lip. ”I'm going to miss our friends, too. I already do.”
Baker holds her eyes. They stare at each other through the s.p.a.ce of Baker's bedroom, surrounded by proof that their lives are changing again.
”Me too,” Baker says.
They spend all of Sat.u.r.day together. They eat breakfast and lunch together and share snacks in-between. They take Charlie to the dog park. They watch the first Harry Potter movie on Hannah's couch, lying under the same blanket with Hannah's back against Baker's stomach. They drive Baker's car to the St. Mary's parking lot and gaze through the winds.h.i.+eld at the familiar blond brick buildings, the buildings that always felt like home, while they hold hands across the console. They eat dinner with Hannah's parents, talking excitedly about college while they pa.s.s the green beans around the table, both of them masking the nostalgia they already feel for their old life.
And after dinner, while Hannah washes the dishes and Baker dries them with an old dishtowel, Baker's cell phone chimes in her pocket. Hannah pays no attention while Baker reads the text message.
”Hey,” Baker says, stepping up behind Hannah and kissing the underside of her ear. ”Let's take a break now, okay? There's something I want to show you.”
”What?”
”C'mere,” Baker says, tugging on her hand.
”What are we doing?”
Baker smiles. ”We're going to play outside.”
They leave the kitchen and walk out the back door. They step beyond the carport and into the muggy evening air, and there, standing in the road, Hannah sees them.
Luke, Joanie, Wally, and Clay, their figures larger than life on the sunset backdrop. They grin at her as she approaches. Each one of them stands in front of a bicycle, and Wally and Clay each have a hand on two additional bicycles balanced at their sides.
”What-?” Hannah says, breathless.
”Don't look so surprised, dummy,” Joanie says.
”It's the last night we can all be together,” Clay says.
”Together?” Hannah says. ”You mean...we're all okay?”
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