Cold Spell

CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning, my heart still stings a little from the sight of Kai’s closed blinds. It feels silly and stupid and as if I’m the sort of girl who doodles hearts with Kai’s name in them on my notebook. It’s embarrassing. I nag myself to get over it, that some closed blinds are no big deal, to stop moping, but the voice in my head saying all that sounds like Kai, which leaves me doubly embarrassed to have those thoughts in the first place.

Movement outside the window catches my eye—snow, more snow. Will it ever end? I wonder how the roses are doing in all this. Surely they’ve pulled through, even if they’re losing their petals. They’ve made it through hurricanes and ice storms, after all. I firm my jaw, feeling as if it’ll be some personal victory if I can go to the roof and check on the roses without Kai.

I rise, pull on my warmest clothes, and head for the roof. I hear people milling around inside their apartments, cursing at the new snow falling and shouting at one another as several days’ worth of cabin fever sets in. As I grow closer to the roof, the temperature drops. I hug my coat tight and shiver as I grab hold of the freezing metal door handle, slide the key into the lock—

It doesn’t turn. I frown and pull the key out—it’s already unlocked. I push on the door, letting it swing to reveal a thick layer of snow on the rooftop, the gray-and-white skyline beyond that. There are roses, still, but they’re buried underneath the white, drops of crimson in a monochrome world. I smile when I see them there, struggling but hanging on. I step out onto the roof, extend a hand to swipe snow off the nearest rose—

Kai’s voice is just ahead, through the roses. It’s so quiet out here that it feels as if his voice is the only sound in the world. I freeze, my fingertips resting on the rose.

The quiet, low tones, like he uses when he’s on the phone with me late at night and doesn’t want Grandma Dalia to know. I swallow, try to ignore something stabbing in my chest, and walk forward. Another step, another. The snow absorbs my footsteps as I weave through the briars along the path, squinting to see him. Every breath feels spiky in my lungs, and my lips are chapping—

It’s her hair I see first. Frosted blonde and sparkling, tossing around in the wind. She’s sitting on his right—where I sit. In my place. She’s sitting there, talking, her voice soft and light and sweet. I can’t understand her words, but Kai nods, heaving his shoulders as if he’s sighing. And then her slender hand rises, and she reaches forward, letting her fingers dance across the side of his face. He turns his head toward her and smiles. Something rises within me; I think I might be sick. It’s like I’m in one of those dreams where you can’t run, can’t scream, can’t cry.

“We aren’t that different,” she says; this time her words make it to me, though only just. She’s looking at him intensely, and her fingers caress his cheek as she talks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we both understand that life isn’t fair,” she says, voice slinky and soft. “I lost everything, more than once. But we can use loss, Kai. We can become greater than we ever were before. Come with me. Leave this place before it kills you.”

Her words have changed—they’re hypnotic now. I can’t look away; I feel as if I’m falling into something the color of her eyes. It reminds me of the way I felt a long time ago, but it takes me ages to place the sensation—the man. The man in the grocery store parking lot, the one with the eyes that glimmered, the one Grandma Dalia warned me about. I swallow, trying to shake off the comparison, but it sticks in my stomach.

Kai turns his head, and I can see his thick lashes, snowflakes clinging to them. He leans forward, and then, before I can comprehend what’s about to happen, his lips touch hers. She presses back against him hungrily, wantonly, and he buckles under her pressure, his head dropping back against the bench as she sits up, swings one leg over him—

“Kai?”

The name doesn’t sound right in my throat; it’s coming from a little girl’s mouth instead of mine. Mora’s pale blue eyes lift and find me. They’re unapologetic—she looks like an animal, leaned over her prey. My lips remain parted, unable to close again to form a second word.

Kai shifts underneath her, turns around, and looks at me. There’s a hardness around his jawbones, around his eyelids, something I don’t recognize. He lifts an eyebrow at me.

“Ginny? What are you doing?”

“I… Kai…” I don’t know what I’m saying; I can’t find words because they’re falling into the deep pit that’s replaced my stomach. I know what I want to say, though: We belong together. We’ve always belonged together.

And you’ve known her for less than a week.

“That’s creepy,” Kai says, and there’s no joke, no softness in his voice. He rises, causing Mora to sit back. She looks pleased as he takes two steps toward me, bars of thorns and briars still blocking the space between us. “What do you want? Do you need something?” he asks.

I feel anger rising in me, but it’s blocked by the thick ball of confusion and sadness that’s inflating inside my chest. I shake my head and finally say, “What are you doing?”

“I was talking to Mora about New York,” he says.

“You were kissing her.”

Kai presses his tongue to his teeth. He looks as if he’s considering lying, but finally nods. “Yes.”

I stare. There must be more. There must be more to say than “yes.”

Kai exhales. “Ginny… you’re… you’re crushing me. It’s like every time I turn around, you’re there. In my house, at the window, on the roof. I need a second to breathe, but you never give me one.”

“I didn’t know you needed that. You never told me.” Finally, my voice has some strength, some protest.

“That’s just it. I shouldn’t have to tell you. I don’t want to call you obsessed or anything, but…”

Mora snickers a little, but tries to hide it in a cough.

“You’ve got to get your own life, is what I’m saying,” Kai says, glancing at Mora knowingly. “I’m going to New York with Mora, and I think in the meantime, you should figure out something to do besides follow me around. Trust me, you’ll be happier if you get a hobby or something.”

“A hobby?” I ask, voice breaking. I shake my head, offended. Angry.

Mora reaches forward and slides her hand into Kai’s. I want him to jerk away, to shift, to look wary, but he doesn’t budge, as if he’s used to her hand finding his. “Come on, Ginny. Don’t get in his way now that his grandmother has stepped out of it.”

“I’m not in his way,” I snap at her. “We’re together. We always have been. What are you doing to him?”

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Kai says, and it stuns me to silence. “You’re acting like some jealous little kid.”

“I’m not jealous,” I say. “I’m angry. Think about this, Kai. Think about what you’re saying. This is me you’re talking to.”

“I am totally aware of who I’m talking to,” he says. “I’m talking to a lonely girl who follows me around like some lost puppy. I thought you’d eventually figure yourself out but… look at you! What would you be without me, Ginny?”

My chest is collapsing in on itself, as if I’m being punched over and over again. Mora looks at me, shakes her head, and answers Kai’s question under her breath.

“Nothing.”

“Leave,” I say, voice shaking. I’m staring at Mora, afraid to blink, afraid to move. “I need to talk to Kai. Leave.”

“Seriously?” Kai throws his arms up in frustration. “What is your deal with Mora? You hardly even know her.”

“Neither do you!” I yell, and tears slip down my cheeks. “You don’t even know her and you brought her up here, to our…”

“Our what? We found this. It’s not like you and I built this ourselves. It’s not a church or a temple; it’s just a shittily maintained rose garden,” Kai says, gesturing around as if shocked I don’t agree. He reaches down, grabs a pair of clippers, and opens the end. He places them at the base of the nearest rosebush and, before I realize he’s serious, slams the handles shut. The blade slices through the plant easily, and it hangs there, held up by its brambles but separated from its roots. “There,” Kai says. “Now it’s not our place anymore; it’s just a dead plant. Better?”

“Kai, I can’t.” I stop and inhale raggedly. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Do what?”

“This,” I say, motioning to nothing and everything, because both are true.

Kai shakes his head at me, almost pityingly, and thrusts the clippers to another rosebush and kills it instantly, as if it’s nothing. Another, and another; he moves around Mora as if he’s orbiting her. The sound of the clippers on the plants, the sliding of the metal against itself—they become louder as Kai snaps the blades with more and more intensity. In the fray, I find Mora again. She’s still and beautiful, while I am a mess of hair and tears clinging to my face. She looks happy.

I turn and run for the door.