17. Neavh

We nail and screw the afternoon away—literally. By the time dusk is settling in, we've got the whole platform finished. The bare wooden boards are cut to form a circular shape that looks like a UFO landing pad.

Clover comes out of the storage shed with a large duffel bag over her shoulder and a drill propped on her hip.

I had no idea ‘construction woman' was a fantasy of mine, but with a smudge of dirt smeared across her forehead and her t-shirt knotted just above her midriff while her hair does its best to escape out of a lopsided ponytail, Clover looks like the definition of a hot mess.

"Hey, sexy," I drawl from across the platform before pursing my lips and making kissing noises at her in my best attempt at playing the role of a cat-caller.

She quirks an eyebrow at me, and my face heats up as I wonder if I've taken the flirting too far, but then she pushes some of the hair out of her eyes with the cutest little bashful smile I've ever seen.

"Sexy? I'm drenched in sweat."

I give her an ‘and the problem is?' look before shrugging. "I rest my case."

She presses her lips together to keep from smiling even wider, and my heart jolts like I've had my number called at the lottery.

"I have to take these back to the house to charge them," she says, lifting up the drill and nodding at whatever else she's stuffed in the duffel bag.

"Oh," I say, fighting to keep my face from falling. "Right."

A sinking sensation settles in my stomach as the ease between us fades, reality looming like the growing shadows of the fir trees.

We haven't kissed again since that first time today, but we've joked and flirted and ‘accidentally' brushed up against each other any time we've had the chance. We've made enough nail and screw puns that even the ferns growing around the worksite must be groaning.

Things have felt easy. Right. I'd forgotten the way she could make me feel comfortable and thrilled all at once, like sinking into a well-worn blanket that smells like home while you lay back to watch fireworks burst across the sky.

Now, though, those fireworks boom like rockets aimed straight at the bubble of delusion we'd built for ourselves these past few hours.

We have to leave these woods. We have to go back to the rest of our lives, with no guarantee that the agreement we've come to won't dissolve and blow away in the wind the second we step onto the path.

"Do you, um, want some dinner?" Clover asks.

I gawk at her, sure I've misheard.

"Dinner?"

She nods, the corner of her mouth lifting at the sight of my dazed expression. "It's almost eight, and we haven't eaten. Trish had to go to some big meeting in the city, so of course she cooked a huge lasagna because she didn't think we could feed ourselves. I already told Dad, Emily, and Kim to eat without me, but I'm sure there's lots left, so if you're hungry…"

I haven't thought about food in hours, but at the mention of dinner, my stomach lets out a bellowing rumble to remind me I've done an entire evening of manual labor without even a snack.

Clover glances down at my stomach and giggles—literally giggles, like she's bent on proving I have somehow managed to find both the sexiest and most adorable woman on the planet.

"Well, that answers that question," she says. "Come on."

She starts to lead the way up the path, but I linger, pulling on the flannel I brought with me in case the weather got cold.

She stops and looks back at me when she realizes I'm not beside her.

"Unless you don't want to?"

She's fighting to keep her tone light, but I can see the worry in her eyes.

"No, no, that's not it," I rush to assure her as I take a few awkward, stilted steps in her direction. "It's just, uh, I couldn't help but notice you've kind of been sneaking me in here—"

I pause when I see a flash of guilt cross her face.

"Which I totally get!" I add. "David has been giving me more input than I'd like about coming here. I get not wanting to tell anyone, so I just want to make sure…"

Her face softens, and she walks back over to me.

"You're not a secret," she says, her eyes boring into mine. "I haven't told anyone, but that's because I didn't know how to explain…us. To be honest, I still don't, but we are adults making our own choices, and I'm tired of this campground running my whole life."

She gasps as the words leave her mouth, her eyes flaring wide.

"I didn't mean it like that," she says in a rush. I can't tell if she's trying harder to convince me or herself. "I just meant… It's like you said. Everyone is going to have input about this, and I don't feel like explaining it to them anymore. I can have one thing that isn't everyone else's business, right?"

She tugs her bottom lip with her teeth as she looks at me, like she's scared I'm going to tell her she's wrong.

"Clover." I place my hands on her shoulders, my grip firm. "You can run your life however you want. It's yours."

I may not always be the best example of running my life well, but if there's any wisdom I've gained from saying va t'en to the shit show that was my life back in Montreal and travelling the world instead, it's that.

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. "Yeah. You're right."

"So if you want me to come eat lasagna in your house even though your dad looks like he wants to serve my liver in a stew, let's do that."

She laughs so hard the shake of her shoulders travels all the way up my arms and jostles my shoulders too.

"He does not want to put you in a stew!" she says. "That's just how his face looks."

I raise an eyebrow. "So you're saying he was happy to see me?"

"He was just…" She trails off and squints as she searches for the right word. "…Surprised."

I bark a laugh and drop my hands from her shoulders. "Okay. Let's go with that."

"Hello?" Clover calls out.

The old log house's door creaks as she steps inside. I wait just beyond the doorframe to see if anyone will answer.

Clover and I didn't spend much time at this house the last summer I was here. The place was always bustling with people, and as two teenagers who couldn't keep our hands off each other, the atmosphere was not exactly conducive to our needs.

Still, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia as I peer inside.

The entryway looks the same: a haphazard pile of sneakers, boots, and flip-flops spilling off the shoe rack and out to where I'm standing on the weathered wooden deck. A kitschy cross-stitch hangs above the key rack stuffed with rusting keys to various parts of the campground, most of them labeled with peeling strips of masking tape to keep some semblance of order.

Newt is the first one to answer Clover's call. He comes trotting down the hall, black tail wagging, and paws at her legs for attention while he stares up at her with adoration beaming from his eyes.

I've yet to encounter a single animal on this planet that doesn't show some sign of affection for Clover Rivers. She's like the Snow White of Vancouver Island.

When no one else follows up Newt's greeting, Clover looks over her shoulder at me.

"They must all be—"

"Clo?"

She's cut off by a woman's voice coming out of the living room, and before I can brace for my second encounter with a Rivers family member today, Emily is striding down the hall towards us.

She looks the same too: angelic blonde hair done up in her signature military-grade ponytail, a shockingly pretty face, and an air of undeniable elegance despite her outfit of khaki shorts and a sun-bleached Three Rivers t-shirt.

"It is you," she says. "Dad said you were out there with Neavh? What is going o—"

She falters when her gaze drifts past Clover to land on me.

So much for the exit plan I was contemplating. It's too late to jump off the deck now.

"Oh." Emily blinks. "Hi, Neavh."

I raise my hand in an idiotic wave. "Hi, Emily."

She looks between me and her sister a few times before Clover clears her throat.

"Neavh is helping me build the yurt."

Emily bobs her head a few times, still darting glances at me like my presence here is so unlikely I might evaporate into thin air at any moment.

I'm starting to wish I could.

"Oh," she says. "Oh, I see. Yes, that's what Dad said. I just thought…"

She trails off, but all the reasons why Clover wouldn't want to be spending time with me still hang in the air like noxious fumes while guilt and doubt wreak havoc on my empty stomach.

It seemed possible out there in the woods: one more summer with Clover Rivers.

Nothing more, nothing less.

A promise we could both keep.

The judgment in Emily's eyes makes me see that promise for what it is: reckless. Irresponsible. Stupid, even.

I jerk with surprise when Clover grabs my hand.

"We're getting some dinner now," she says, tugging me forward until I'm standing next to her in the entryway. "There is lasagna left, right?"

She releases her grip on my fingers, but I can still feel the ghost of her touch. Emily is staring down at where our hands were joined just a second ago, her eyes wide.

Clover crosses her arms over her chest, her chin held high, and they have some sort of silent sister face-off I don't have the experience to understand. A couple seconds later, Emily steps back to make room for us to pass.

"Of course. Trish made you a veggie section." She gives me another sidelong glance and then does her best to smile. "Enjoy!"

I can hear more voices coming from the living room, but Clover leads us on a circuitous route through the dining room and into the kitchen that keeps us out of sight.

The voices turn to hushed murmurs as Emily's footsteps return to the living room.

Clover rolls her eyes. "You see what I mean? I can't do anything around here without everyone talking about it."

I nod to acknowledge her frustration, but as she heads over to hunt through the fridge for the leftovers, I can't help comparing this house to my own back in Montreal.

Maybe they talk too much here sometimes, but at least they talk.

The silence in my home after Charles died was like a heavy layer of dust that just got thicker and thicker as the years went by. It clogged everything: our ears, our throats, our eyes. It coated the house and everything in it until it felt like we were just ghosts wandering through a photograph of what our lives used to be.

Stuck. Trapped. Suffocating.

Choking on that dust until we might as well have died the day he died too.

That's how little we were living.

The Rivers house might be loud and nosy and messy, but at least it's alive. The whole of Three Rivers is blooming with life, pulsing with it, like this house is a heart pumping red-blooded joy into even the darkest of moments.

"Aha!"

I jump when Clover whirls around with a casserole dish in her arms. She sets the glass container down on the counter and rips the aluminum foil off the top.

"Is that enough for you?" she asks. "Looks like there's only the veggie part left. Sorry about that."

I step over to look at the wedge of lasagna she's pointing at, which has a toothpick wrapped in a Post-It note stabbed through the center of the melted cheese. I read the words scribbled on the note and chuckle.

Clover's vegetarian section- DO NOT EAT IF YOU ARE NOT CLOVER!!!

"Veggie is great with me," I say, "although that note looks a little threatening."

She laughs as she plucks the toothpick out and starts dishing the lasagna onto two plates. She pops one of the plates in the microwave and gives me a guilty look as the machine starts to hum.

"Do not tell Trish I microwaved this. She insists that her cooking only gets reheated in the oven. I'm just too hungry to wait."

I slap a hand to my chest. "You have my word."

My mouth waters as the scent of gooey, bubbling cheese begins to fill the kitchen.

"Damn. Microwave or not, I am very excited to try some of Trish's cooking again."

The microwave dings, and Clover removes the steaming plate to replace it with the second serving.

"She is a legend," she says. "Did you hear about her big deal with the grocery store?"

I shake my head, and Clover fills me in on the details of Trish's partnership to create a line of products with one of the biggest grocery store chains in the province.

"Holy shit," I say once she's finished. "That's huge. I had no idea."

Clover slides the second plate out onto the counter.

"Uh-huh," she says while fishing through the cutlery drawer for some forks. "Turns out coming out is not the only new thing she's got going on."

"And here I was thinking things never change in River's Bend," I joke.

She gives me a look I can't read as she hands me my plate and fork. I'm about to ask her what's wrong when the sound of someone entering the kitchen steals my attention.

Emily walks in with a woman who can only be her girlfriend in tow. With a dark, shaggy pixie cut falling into her eyes, stacks of leather bracelets on her arms, an earful of silver piercings that match the bar in her eyebrow, and a men's cut tank top tucked into her skinny jeans, she is quite possibly the biggest blip on my gaydar I have ever witnessed in real life—which is saying something, considering I spent half my teen years trying to sneak into bars in Montreal's gay village.

"Oh, hey," Emily says. "We didn't know you were still in here."

They very clearly knew we were still in here. The girlfriend is trying and failing not to stare at me like I'm the star feature of a travelling sideshow.

"This is Kim," Emily says to me, "my girlfriend. Kim, this is… Well, this is Neavh."

Kim sticks her arm out, and I do my best not to drop my lasagna as I give her hand a stiff shake.

"Hey, Neavh," she says, with genuine warmth in her smile. "Nice to meet you. I've heard you're from the city, just like me. Well, I'm from Toronto, but these people don't really distinguish between any major metropolitan areas out east."

"That's because all the tourists act the same," Emily sing-songs. "You're all equally cocky and overconfident about your ability to survive in the woods."

Kim steps back over to her and bumps her shoulder. "Yeah, but you love it."

Clover is unphased by this display of sapphic bliss. She peers past the two of them and asks, "Where's Dad?"

Emily sighs. "Out fixing something somewhere. He disappeared after dinner."

Clover heads to the kitchen's exit. Kim and Emily scooch aside to make way for her, and I decide I should probably follow in her wake.

"We're going to eat on the deck," she announces, her firm tone implying we intend to eat alone.

Kim wishes us bon appétit, and Newt follows us as we pad out onto the deck in socked feet to claim two Adirondack chairs. We set our plates down on the chairs' wide arms. The deck's railing is strewn with mini solar lights that have already lit up in the twilight, casting the space in a soft glow.

Clover massages her temples and groans. "Ugh, that was embarrassing."

I chuckle. "It's okay. It was nice to see them."

She shoots me a disbelieving look. "Was it?"

"Okay, so it was a little awkward," I admit, "but it was nice to see Emily again, and Kim seems great."

Clover nods, "Yeah, she is. I'm glad Emily found her."

We pause the conversation to eat a few bites of lasagna. Newt sits in front of Clover's chair, drooling in anticipation of leftovers.

I doubt he'll get any. The lasagna is so good my eyes are rolling back in my head, and all the hours of working outside have me hungry enough it's a struggle not to scarf the whole plate down in two bites.

"You got me thinking," Clover says, interrupting my ravenous feast as she sets her fork down on the edge of her plate.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. I'm thinking about how much has changed since the last time you were here. It's easy to feel like it's all exactly the same, especially now that we're…"

Her gaze drops to my mouth for a second, and I hope to god I don't have sauce splattered all over my face.

"Well, now that we're…talking," she finishes, "but it's not the same, is it? Emily has basically taken over as head of Three Rivers. She's got Kim. They'll probably be engaged any day now, and I doubt Trish and Kennedy will be far behind. Plus, Trish is off being a culinary superstar, and Dad is…well, Dad is a lot better. It got…pretty dark around here for a while after we lost Mom."

Before I can question whether it's the right move, I reach over and grab her hand. She flinches with surprise, but when I try to pull away, she locks her fingers between mine and squeezes.

"I know what that's like," I murmur.

She nods. "I know you do. Besides my family, I don't have anyone else in my life who gets it, but I know you do. I…I'm sorry I couldn't understand about Charles before, about your parents."

A stab of pain ricochets through my sternum, and my voice comes out hoarse when I tell her, "You don't need to be sorry for that. I wish you didn't have to understand it so well. It…it breaks my heart to know you understand."

Maybe it's too much to say, but its true. My chest feels like it's caving in when I think about Clover facing the same sickening freefall into loss that I did.

She squeezes my hand again, and we sit in silence together, the weight of the past heavy on us both.

"Of course, it was horrible to lose Mom," she says after a minute, her voice low, "but I don't think anything could have prepared me for watching my dad just…fade after she died. It's like all the colour just seeped right out of him. I was so scared."

She shudders, and I'm hit with the urge to pull her onto my lap and wrap her in my arms. I want to cradle her. I want to stroke her hair the way I used to.

"Like I said, he's doing better now, though." She clears her throat and straightens her posture a little, jerking me back to the present. "Things are better."

She gently pulls her hand away from mine and starts cutting up a few more bites of lasagna. I turn back to my plate and do the same, forcing myself to focus on the food so I won't have to process what's happening to me.

There's a hot, itchy sensation crawling along my skin, and it feels disturbingly close to jealousy.

Things got better here. The Rivers family pulled through together, like families are supposed to do. Clover and her sisters got their dad through his dark moment. They were enough for him to find his way back to life.

I couldn't be enough for my parents. I could only sit and watch them fade away until I couldn't take it anymore.

Then I left.

I stab at my lasagna so hard my knife squeaks against the plate. I order myself to pull it together. The last thing Clover needs is me flipping out on her porch.

"So, what about you?" I ask after I've gulped down almost everything on my plate and can trust myself to keep the conversation casual.

She tilts her head. "Hmm?"

"You talked about the ways everyone else has changed. What about you? What do I need to know about the new Clover Rivers?"

She lets out a self-conscious chuckle and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I don't know about that."

It really should be illegal for her to be this cute.

"Come on," I say, clucking my tongue. "You have to give me something."

She buys herself some time by tossing a glob of cheese down to Newt before answering.

"Well, I have an undergraduate degree now. I'm on the path to becoming a real scientist."

I scoff. "In my books, that already makes you a real scientist. In fact, I think you've known enough to be a real scientist since you were, like, ten."

She laughs again. "That's very kind, but I don't know if academia shares your opinion."

I hold back on telling her I don't give a shit what academia thinks and wait to see if she'll share more with me.

"Um, well…" She taps her fingertips against the arms of her chair. "I dated someone."

My pulse kicks up, but I manage to keep my voice even. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've casually gone out with a few people, but I seriously dated a guy for my whole second year of school."

I concentrate so hard on staring at the closest string of solar lights that my vision starts to go fuzzy.

"And how was that?" I ask.

"It was fine," she says. "Turns out we work way better as friends. We're still pretty close. Well, at least we have been. He's moving to the States for his Master's, so I don't really know how much we'll keep in touch. A lot of my friends are leaving Victoria now."

Her voice gets quieter, and a shadow passes over her face.

I've said goodbye to my fair share of fleeting friendships on the road, but I can't imagine what it must be like to form actual bonds with people over the course of four whole years and then have to say goodbye.

I've kind of built my whole life around making it easy to say goodbye. There's not much of a chance of disappointing people if they know you'll be gone in a few weeks anyway.

"That must be tough."

Clover nods and sighs. "It sucks, but I knew it was coming. It just feels weird that I'm going back while so many people are moving on."

I wrack my brain for something to say as she tucks her knees up to her chest and chucks the last bite of her lasagna to Newt.

"What about you?" she asks.

"Me?"

"Yeah, if I have to talk about myself, so do you. Tell me about the new Neavh Beaudoin."

I curse myself as my curiosity comes back to bite me in the ass.

"So, you're a lesbian, not bi" she says when I don't offer up any answers. "Did anything in particular lead to that revelation?"

You.

I clamp my jaw shut before the truth slips out.

Falling for Clover may not have been the only reason I figured that part of me out, but it sure helped things happen a lot faster. In the months and months I spent over-thinking that summer, I realized nothing I'd ever felt for guys came close to what it was like to be in love with a woman.

That's way too intense to share with her now, though.

"Well, I really liked dating you," I say, opting for a more casual take, "and then I kept liking going out with girls and growing more and more uncomfortable going out with guys. It got to the point where I realized I was only doing anything with men because I'd been conditioned to see that as the normal option."

I draw air quotes around the word ‘normal' and then shake my head as I think back on that time in my life. I can't even imagine kissing a guy now, and I used to put myself through having sex with them.

"Comphet is a bitch," Clover says with a sage nod.

I burst out laughing at her wise wizard voice.

"That it is, that it is."

She presses her lips together before asking, "So, have you been in any relationships?"

I shake my head. "Just random hookups and a couple flings that lasted a few weeks. I never stayed anywhere long enough for more."

She watches me for a few moments. Her eyes glint in the deepening darkness as the last traces of purple fade from the sky.

"You've been so many places," she says, her voice filled with wonder. "So many countries. I mean, the things you must have seen. You've been all over the freaking world, and all by yourself too. That's pretty incredible, Neavh."

Her eyes light up even more, her voice going hushed with awe, and I have to look away.

I can't stand to see her marvel at me. I can't stand to see anyone look at me that way when they find out how much I've travelled.

It always makes me feel hollow inside, like I'm supposed to be filled to the brim with some mysterious, wondrous thing when all I've managed to find is a few drops.

"Lots of people do it," I say with a shrug.

She taps the arms of her chair again before leaning closer. "Was it not what you wanted?"

I snap my head to look at her as she asks the question no one else has ever asked me—the one I've asked myself a thousand times.

"I…"

My voice dies in my throat. I cough and try again.

"It was incredible. It is incredible. There's so much more I want to see. I just… Sometimes, I feel like I must not be doing it right. It's supposed to change you, isn't it? You're supposed to come back this entirely different person. I mean, don't get me wrong. I have changed. I have grown. Some stuff does feel better, but…"

I stare at the solar lights again, unfocusing my eyes until they form blurry starbursts like headlights on a rainy highway.

I shudder.

"That day in the parking lot at Riverview…I didn't throw up because I skipped breakfast. I threw up because I hit a wet patch of road and almost lost control of the golf cart, and all I could think about was Charles. All I could think about was the accident. I haven't freaked out like that in years, but I totally lost it. I was supposed to be getting better, but…maybe I'm just pretending. Maybe I'm stuck, just like my parents, and maybe it doesn't matter how far I go or how much of the world I see. Maybe I'll always be stuck as this fucked up, broken version of me."

I blink, and the deck lights in front of me shift like a kaleidoscope, revealing a sifting series of images.

I can see all the nights I'd spend looking at old photos and videos of my brother, watching him pull stupid stunts on swing sets or do terrible impersonations of famous actors, and I'd wish with everything I had to reach in and pull him out of the screen.

I can see my mom sitting in front of the TV for hours and hours, flipping the channel every few minutes, her eyes out of focus.

I can see my dad locked behind the door of his office all day, a pile of dirty mugs collecting on his desk, flies buzzing around the stale splatters of coffee stuck to the ceramic.

I can see myself screaming in both their faces, begging them to get up, begging them to care, begging them to do something—even if it was just to hate me for all the names I called them and all the shit I put them through while getting in trouble around the city.

I see the day I gave up the fight. I see the day I went quiet too.

I see the day I told them I was quitting school and going to stay with my cousin. I see the last fight we ever had, all the bitter words and accusations, before they sank back into their seats and watched me go.

"You're not."

Clover's voice rings out like a shot in the night. She's barely spoken above a murmur, but I hear her words reverberate through my mind all the same.

I blink, and the blurry halos of light shrink and come back into focus.

Just lanterns.

Just little lanterns on a porch hundreds of miles away from the place I used to call home.

"You're not broken or fucked up. You're living, Neavh."

She leans over to grab my forearm, squeezing me hard. Her palm is warm against my skin, an undeniable reminder that we're both here. Now.

Alive.

"You haven't just laid down and rolled over. You've seen the fucking world. You've backpacked Europe and Asia all by yourself. You've climbed mountains. You've swam in oceans. You've gotten swindled by a farmer while picking fruit in Australia, for god's sake."

She pauses to laugh, and I can't help laughing with her, just for a moment, even as my heart thunders in my chest while I hang on her every word.

"You have stories, Neavh. You've had adventures, and maybe you've just been going through the motions sometimes. Maybe it hasn't all been amazing, or maybe you've been too hurt to feel everything you hoped you would, but you've still done it. That counts for something. Don't forget that, okay?"

Her face is blazing with sincerity. She shines so bright it almost hurts to look at her, but I don't turn away. I watch her like a ship watches a lighthouse, like she's a beacon cutting through the fog.

She gets up from her chair and comes to stand in front of mine, like what she has to say next needs to be said straight to my face.

"You're alive, Neavh, and when I'm with you…I feel more alive than I ever have before."

My breath catches, but Clover doesn't falter. She leans forward to grip both my forearms, pinning my hands to the arms of the chair. Her face is just inches from mine now.

"You grabbed my hand and ran through the woods to strip down and kiss me in a river at sunset. You are an adventure, Neavh. You are a story, and you have so much left to tell."

She softens just a little, just enough to give me a small smile. She glows like a lantern on a porch, like a reminder left out to tell the night that this place is safe and warm and welcoming.

This place is a home.

I pull her to me, grabbing her by the belt loops of her shorts and tugging until she tumbles onto my lap.

My lasagna plate flips and crashes to the deck with a clatter, but we don't pause for an instant as we tangle ourselves together. Her knees straddle my thighs. Her fingers dig into my hair. I clutch the waist of her shorts with one hand and slide the other up the back of her shirt.

She leans in to kiss me, gasping at the moment our mouths crash together. Her grip on my hair tightens. I slip my hand under the band of her bra.

A muffled thump from somewhere in the house makes us snap apart. Clover jerks her head up, still straddling my lap, and I glance around the dark woods behind her.

We're both panting. She's pressed so close to me I can tell her heart is beating as fast as mine.

When no one comes barging out of the house, we lock eyes and slump with relief, both of us grinning.

"Probably shouldn't do this here," she mutters, shifting around to find her balance before she climbs off my lap.

"Yeah," I say as I slide the straps of my overalls up from where they've slipped down my shoulders. "Probably right."

She smoothes down the front of her shirt and then brushes her hair out of her face. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks down at me.

A thrill shoots up my spine.

"What?" I ask. "What's that look for?"

She shifts her weight from foot to foot. "Do you remember how we used to sneak out to see each other at night?"

My throat goes dry, and all I can do is nod.

She steps closer, until her shins bump up against mine.

"I want you to sneak out and meet me tonight."