I mean…an away game. My roommate will be gone for a while? he said, threading his fingers through hers.
Oh! she said.
She felt herself giggle. She was coming off too eager for her liking, especially when the idea of a room of their own was a little frightening to Charlie. Hadn’t she promised herself just days before that she was going to change? On the other hand, what if being with Austin was part of that? He offered something that Charlie had never before been attracted to, a wholesomeness without games or strings or power struggles attached.
And the other thing was, Charlie liked sex. And why shouldn’t she? She strong-armed her body into countless unpleasant tasks each week: waking up when the morning was still blue, listening and lipreading, circuit training in gym class, flossing. Shouldn’t she be allowed to do something fun without being hamstrung by heirloom shame? Sex was all boys her age talked about, and no one ever bothered them about it. So when Austin asked if she wanted to come over and see his room, Charlie said okay.
Outside it was cold and bright, though the sun was noticeably lower in the sky than it had been at the same time just yesterday, all things barreling toward the equinox. They didn’t say much as he led her up the drive, but it was a comfortable lull, until he stopped short a few feet in front of the entry path.
What’s wrong?
Nothing. Come this way.
He glanced around, took her hand, and steered her behind the building. There was a hedge, and they had to turn sideways to slide through the space between bushes and wall.
Wait, he said.
Charlie watched him slip out the far side and run back around the way they’d come. Cold from the building’s fa?ade seeped through her jacket, and she tried to stand up straighter to avoid touching the stone.
Just as her imagination began to weave a tale of abandonment, she saw a hand emerging into the hedge. She inched her way toward it and found Austin standing in an open window, the screen removed. He took her by the forearms and pulled her inside.
His room looked the same as, or rather the reverse of, hers and Kayla’s. On the wall by the foot of Austin’s bed was the same television and bulbous camera atop it, only there was something wrong with his; it was emitting a series of piercing flashes. Charlie jumped back, but Austin just sighed and aimed a remote at the screen to quell the lights.
What the hell was that?
Probably my parents, I’ll call them later.
But what— She pointed to the screen.
What? The _______?
What?
V-i-d-e-o. Phone. Videophone. You have one in your room, too.
God, what an idiot. She had wondered why Kayla and friends only ever watched TV on their computers.
We don’t…have anyone to call.
You can call hearing people, too. An interpreting service translates.
Really?
And there’s a way to use your voice. The interpreter just signs the other person’s responses.
Really?
You can get one for free at home. All deaf people can.
Really?
It won’t be that useful if you only know one word.
Charlie laughed shyly, imagined her younger self with a phone like this, and the language to use it. Texting was easy now, but that hadn’t always been the case. Before she could read and write, before kids had their own phones, she was cut off from anyone not directly in front of her. She pictured herself at age ten—same gawky, frizzy-haired girl, but confident like Austin, maybe even extroverted. She would call her dad and remind him not to be late for dinner, or her classmates and invite them for playdates. The classmates would turn into friends, maybe one of them would even grow into that mythical being she’d only witnessed from afar or on TV: a best friend, someone who would call her first.
Teasing, Austin said with a look on his face like he’d been repeating himself. T-e-a-s-i-n-g?
Sorry. I was thinking what it’d be like to call people.
Who would you call?
I don’t know, she said after a while. My family. My mom I guess.
Hearing, right?
Extremely. And she’s got nails—Charlie gestured the claw of her mother’s pointed manicure—she’s bad at texting. Might be easier, calling her.
You’re sweet.
What?
To think about what’s easier for her.
Charlie smiled, but the thing she hadn’t said was that receiving an interpreted video call would probably upset her mother, which was appealing in its own way. She knew this was perverse, to find pleasure in things that might rile her mother up, and she didn’t want Austin to think of her like that, but she could see him seeing her, looking through the veneer of her smile.
Or…it’d scare the shit out of her, Charlie said.
Austin laughed.
Bonus, he said.
Austin sat down on his bed and Charlie wrung her hands, watched him watching her.
You know who else you could call, he said after a while.
Who?
He reached for her wrist and pulled her closer, so their knees touched. She tried to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t hook up with him. If it ruined their friendship, she might once again end up an outcast. But the thing about River Valley was it made her hopeful—and anyway she’d already been to the lowest point heaps of times. She hadn’t yet been to the top.
He took her by the hips and deftly swung them both into bed, Charlie on top. He’d never said or done anything to suggest a lack of experience, but she was taken aback by his self-assurance as he ran his hands across the range of her rib cage. She let him unhook her bra—another seamless maneuver—her hips pushed forward to meet him, the seam of her jeans hitting just right, when the wall beside them shook. Both their eyes flew open at the tremor; Austin craned his neck to see around Charlie, who quickly climbed off him and drew her knees up, hunching in on herself. Standing beside the bed, his hand still on the doorknob, was a tall boy in an RVSD football jersey, with duffel, shoulder pads, and helmet in tow.
Close the door!
Austin jumped out of bed to retrieve Charlie’s bra, tossed it to her.
This is my roommate, E-l-i-o-t. Eliot.
Hey, Eliot said.
Charlie nodded. Eliot seemed neither surprised nor embarrassed by her presence.
I thought you had a game.
Canceled. Gonna snow tonight.
You know how they get about the roads.
Kayla and Alisha were right—Eliot was handsome, his arm muscles rippling as he opened the window and lit a cigarette. But when he turned to tap his ash out the windowsill, she saw thick fingers of scar tissue blooming from his ear down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. The scar was gnarled and pink—pale and angry against his healthy skin. It was difficult to look away.
Sorry, Austin said, gesturing to his bed. This is Charlie.
Eliot shrugged, tapped his ash out into the grass.
Sorry, he said again, this time to her.
It’s fine. I should go.
Austin kissed her on the cheek. He pulled on a hoodie while Charlie tied her shoes. Eliot moved aside and Austin offered his hand as she climbed back out the window.
See you, she said.
She gave him a small, close-lipped smile, trying to look as alluring as one could while standing in a hedge.
Maybe another time?
She nodded, lingered for a moment, catching sight of Eliot and tracing the trajectory of his scar with her eyes, snapping out of it only when Austin moved to close the window.