Many Bloody Returns Part 2

The heat of the day still lingered in her skin the same way it did in the s.h.i.+ngles. No more sticky humidity, so that was nice. She felt comfortably warm up there in her spaghetti strap tank top and cutoff jeans, as if the sun had gotten down inside her instead of setting over the horizon, and it would hide there until morning.

Owls cried out in the woods, and Donika glanced up, searching the trees as though she might spot one, the strings of her guitar momentarily forgotten. Other people thought they were funny birds, but she had always heard something else in their hooting, a terrible sadness that she wanted to answer with her own frustrations.

A flash of light came from the road. She watched the headlights move along Blackberry Lane and her breath caught as she thought of Josh again. When the car drove by without slowing, she sighed and lay against the slanted roof, the s.h.i.+ngles rough and hot

against her back. She hugged the guitar and wondered if Josh was sitting outside, waiting for her, or if he was up in his room listening to music on his bed. Both images had their appeal.

Somehow she missed the sound of an approaching engine and looked up only as light washed across the trees and she heard tires

rolling up the driveway. Donika sat forward as her mother's ancient Dodge Dart putted up to the house. When she turned off the engine, it ticked and popped, and then the door creaked open.

"Get off that roof, 'Nika!"

The girl laughed. The woman had eyes like a hawk, even in the dark.

She slipped in through her bedroom window and put away her guitar before going downstairs. Her mother stood in the kitchen, looking through the day's mail. Qendressa Ristani had lush black hair like her daughter, but streaked with gray. She wore it pulled back tightly. Though her mother was nearly fifty, Donika thought her hairstyle too severe, more appropriate for a grandmother.

Her clothes reflected the same sensibility, which probably explained why she never dated. Though she'd given up wearing black a decade or so back, Donika's mother still saw herself as a widow. Men might flirt with her-she was prettier than most women her age-but Qendressa would not encourage them. She'd been widowed young, and had no desire to replace the only man she had ever loved.

Her life was the seamstress shop where she worked in downtown Jameson, and the home she'd made for herself and her daughter upon coming to America a dozen years before. But her Old World upbringing still persisted in many ways, not the least of which was her insistence on using herbs and oils as homegrown remedies for all sorts of ills, both physical and spiritual.

"How was your day, Ma?"

"Eh," the woman said, "is the same."

Donika grabbed her sandals and sat down at the table, slipping one on. Her mother dropped the mail on the table. As she slipped

on her sandals, she looked up to find her mother staring at her.

"Where you going?"

"Josh's. Sue and Carrie and a couple of Josh's friends are there already waiting for me. We're going to walk into town for pizza."

"You going to hang around those boys dressed like that?"

Donika flushed with anger and stood up, the chair sc.r.a.ping backward on the floor.

"Look, Ma, you need to get off this stuff. This is 1979, not 1950, and we're in Ma.s.sachusetts, not Albania. You want me to be

home when you get back from work so you won't worry about me? Okay, I sort of understand that. I don't like it, but I get it.

But look around. I don't dress differently from other girls. Turn on the TV once in a while-"

"TV," her mother muttered in disgust, averting her eyes.

"I'm going to be sixteen tomorrow," Donika protested.

Qendressa Ristani sniffed. "This is supposed to make me less worried? This is why I worry!"

"Well, don't! I'm fine. Just let me enjoy being sixteen, okay?"

The woman hesitated, taking a long breath, and then she nodded slowly and waved her daughter away. "Go. Be a good girl,

'Nika. Don't make me shamed."

"Have I ever?"

Finally, her mother smiled. "No. Never." Her expression turned serious. "Tomorrow, we celebrate, though. Yes? Just the two of

us, all the things you love for dinner. You can have your friends over on Friday and we have a cake. But, tomorrow, just us girls."

Donika smiled. "Just us girls."

The path emerged from the woods in the backyard of an older couple who were known to shout at trespa.s.sers from their screened-in back porch. Donika had never experienced their wrath and wondered if they didn't mind so much when a girl crossed their yard-maybe thinking girls didn't cause as much trouble as boys-or if they simply didn't see her. As she left the comfortable quiet of the woods and strolled across the back lawn and then alongside the house, she watched the windows, wondering if either of the old folks were looking out. Nothing stirred inside there. It hadn't been dark for long, but she wondered if they were already asleep, and thought how sad it must be to get old.

When she reached the street, she saw Josh sitting on the granite curb at the corner, smoking a cigarette. Her sandals slapped the pavement as she walked and he looked up at the sound. One corner of his mouth lifted in a little smile that made her heart flutter. He flicked his cigarette away and stood to meet her, cool as h.e.l.l in his faded jeans and Jimi Hendrix T-s.h.i.+rt.

"Hey," he said.

Donika smiled, feeling strangely shy. "Hey."

Josh pushed his shoulder-length blond hair away from his eyes. "Your mom kept you waiting."

"Sorry. Sometimes I think she stays late on purpose. Maybe she figures if she keeps me waiting long enough, I won't go out."

"So much for that plan."

"I'm glad you didn't give up on me," Donika said.

They'd been standing a couple of feet apart, just feeling the static energy of the distance between them. Now Josh reached out

and touched her face.

"Never happen."

A s.h.i.+ver went through her. Josh did that to her, just by standing there, and the way he looked at her.

His hand slipped around to the back of her neck and he bent to kiss her. Donika tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting

the details of the moment wash over her, the feel of him so near, the softness of his lips, the strange, burnt taste of nicotine as his

tongue sought hers.

Only when they broke apart, a giddy little thrill rus.h.i.+ng through her, did she look around and remember where they were. Lights were on in some of the houses along Rolling Lane, and anyone could be watching them.

She felt pleasantly buzzed, as though she'd had a few beers, but she slid her hand along his arm and tangled her fingers in his.

"We shouldn't be doing this out here. I told my mother Sue and Carrie and those guys were gonna be here and we were going to get pizza. If anyone ever saw us and told her, she'd have a fit."

"She doesn't think you've ever kissed me?"

"I don't know, and I don't plan to ask," Donika said. "G.o.d, she already thinks I'm s.l.u.tty just for wearing cutoffs and hanging around with boys."

Josh arched an eyebrow and took out another cigarette. "Boys? Are there others?"

She hit him. "You know what I mean."

"Your mom's pretty Old World."

Donika rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. She burns candles for me and puts little bunches of dried herbs and stuff under my bed, tied in little ribbons. Pretty sure they're supposed to ward off boys."

"How's that going?"

Donika only smiled.

Josh kissed her forehead. "So, do you want to go get pizza?"

"Only if you're hungry."

Josh laughed softly, unlit cigarette in his hand. His blue eyes were almost gray in the nighttime. "I could eat. I could always eat. But

I'm good. We could just hang out. Why don't we walk downtown, get an ice cream or something?"

"Or we could just go for a walk in the woods. I love those paths. Especially at night."

"You're not afraid?" Josh asked as he thumbed his lighter, the little flame igniting the tip of his cigarette. He drew a lungful of

smoke and stared at her.

"Why would I be?" Donika said. "I've got you with me."

She led him by the hand back across the street and through the yard of the belligerent old couple. Josh's cigarette glowed orange

in the dark. The moon and stars were bright, but as they pa.s.sed alongside the house and into the backyard of that old split-level house, with the canopy of the woods reaching out above them, the darkness thickened and little of the celestial light filtered through.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you kids!" a screechy voice shouted from the porch. "You're gonna burn the whole d.a.m.n forest down with those

cigarettes!"

Donika started and looked at the darkened porch anxiously. Josh put a hand up to try to keep himself from laughing, and that started Donika grinning as well. The voice was faintly ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon or a movie. On the porch, in the dark, another pinp.r.i.c.k of burning orange glowed. The old man was smoking, too.

Josh paused to drop the b.u.t.t and grind it out with his heel. Then, laughing, they ran into the trees, following the path that had been

worn there by generations.

Hand in hand, they followed the gently curving path through the woods and talked about their friends and families, and about music.

"I love talking about music with you," Josh told her. "The way your eyes light up...I don't know, it's like you feel it inside you