Nokken Chapter Five
I wake up feeling like crap. My back aches and my mattress feels hard as rock. I turn, and instead of giving beneath me, it stays rock hard and scraps my face. I open my eyes and what I see confuses me. It’s dark outside and I’m laying on a sidewalk, my cheek and the side of my body presses into the concrete. In front of me is an unfamiliar house. I hear voices, but I can’t make out the words. They sound urgent.
I start to sit up, but my head hasn’t lifted more than a few inches off the ground before I let it drop back down. My head is too heavy for my body to hold up, and the world swirls before me when I try again. I bring my hand up to touch my face and pain shoots through me, making my vision blurry. My hand comes away and I try to get my my eyes to focus again. I must be seeing things. My hand looks… red. When my eyes come back into focus, I see that my hand is dripping red liquid.
At first, I can’t comprehend what I am seeing through the haziness of my mind. Then I realize I’m bleeding. What? What happened? Then I can no longer hold my eyes open and I’m plunged into black. I hear the voices coming closer and hands touch me. More hands join them and they press into me, shooting pain throughout my entire body; so much pain that I can’t even tell what part of me hurts.
I moan and the voices become soothing. It doesn’t help. Then then hands ease me onto something softer and then the pressure of the hands is gone. I feel my upper body tipping higher and I scream. Then my lower body tips up to meet it and I am shoved forward. I hear a clack and then the sounds of car doors slamming. What’s happening?! My mother’s voice breaks through my confusion.
“It’s okay, Willow. You’ll be alright. I promise.” It says. I relax, but I relax too much. I lose consciousness.
* * *
My eyes open to a white ceiling and dim light. I ache all over. My body feels like it was pulverized and my head is pounding. For a while, I just stare at the ceiling. I’m not sure how much time goes by before I decide to have a look around, but when I do, I see white walls and blue patterned curtains. I can’t turn my head very far without pain. Needles poke into my hands; IV needles. Great. I’m in the hospital.
I hear the door open and see my mom walk in. Then I notice Dad snoring in the window seat.
“Mom?” I croak. My voice hurts. “What’s happening?”
“Oh, honey! We were so worried! I’m so sorry! I feel like this is all my fault!” Mom cries, bursting into tears. She runs to the side of the hospital bed.
“But…” I say as well as I can. “What happened?”
“Here, honey. Have some water.” She hands me a cup. “Oh, sweetie I’m so sorry!”
“MOM! What happened?!” I demand. At this point Dad wakes up. Mom tells him I’m awake and then leaves the room. “Dad, what happened?”
“Well, you were out looking for Ivy last night and a car hit you. You’re bruised up pretty bad. The doctor doesn’t know if anything is broken because you were losing so much blood that we couldn’t x-ray you. He says he’s pretty sure you broke at least one rib. You hit your head pretty hard, but he says you shouldn’t have any memory problems, so that’s good. Anyway, we’re going to do x-rays as soon as the doctor comes back in and sees that you’re awake.” He sees the look on my face. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get up. Your bed’s got wheels. You scared your mom pretty bad. She feels guilty for not going with you.”
“It’s not Mom’s fault.” I say.
“You’re right, it’s whatever moron who doesn’t know how to drive’s fault.” Dad says sourly.
“Everything happens for a reason, Dad. There’s no point in blaming anyone.” I tell him. “You’re right. I’m gonna go get your mother.”
Mom walks in with dads, his arm around her shoulders. I sip my water quietly. Mom comes over to my bed and hugs me. It hurts but I stifle my cry. Then she laughs nervously and sits down in the chair next to the bed. There’s a pillow and blanket there.
“Did you guys sleep here?” I ask.
“Yes.” Mom says. “We were so worried about you.”
“Sorry.” I tell her.
“Don’t apologize!”
Just then the doctor walks in and sees that I’m awake.
“Oh good.” He says. Let’s go get some xrays done.”
He wheels me down do the x-ray machine which, thank God, is not very far away. Every bump feels like a missile hitting me, and I have a very high pain tolerance. They move me from my bed to the x-ray table, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I taste blood, but it only makes me bite harder. When my body touches the cold metal I gasp and blanch. Then I start to shiver.
The doctor says, “You took most of the damage in your left arm and left side torso. I’m just going to x-ray the top half of your body from different angles, and then I’m gonna check your pelvis just to be safe because you have some swelling and bruising there as well.”
“Yeah, okay.” I say. Then I try to lay there as limp and still as I can, making myself docile to the doctor and my parents.
I tune everything out until Mom says, “Come on, Willow. Time to go back to the room.”
They lift me back onto the bed and roll me back down the hall.
“We’ll be in later with the x-ray results and diagnosis. Willow, it would be wise for you to get some rest. Don’t put any strain on your left side, okay?” Says the doctor.
“Sure thing.”
He leaves us in the hospital room. Mom has to go to work tomorrow, because she can’t take any more sick days unless it’s an emergency. So yesterday counted, but today didn’t…? Mom logic, I guess. Once she leaves, I ask Dad to tell me the details of what happened, because i don’t remember the crash at all.
“Like I said, you were out looking for Ivy, and it was dark. You were wearing black. The car came around the corner you were found at and probably didn’t see you until it was too late. They hit your left side and then ran.” He says.
“Is Ivy found? Wait-- how long I was I on the street?” I ask.
“No, Ivy’s still missing. You were there about an hour and forty-five minutes when someone found you. We had already contacted the police about Ivy, and when you didn’t come back we called them again and went out looking for you. The police called saying you’d been found and were in an ambulance so they gave us the street address and we hauled it over there as fast as we could.” He explains.
“But where’s the car?”
“Your aunt and uncle dropped it off in the parking lot for us.” Replies Dad.
“Oh.” I say, and then don’t say anything else because there’s nothing really to say. In the silence, I slip away into sleep. When I wake up, it’s only because my throat is parched and raw.
The light outside the window shows the evening. The doctor is in the room. I reach for the water cup and Mom and the doctor see me.
“Oh, good! You’re awake. So, your fifth rib down on the left is cracked, but it’s minor. We will give you an ace bandage to wrap around, that’s all we can really do for ribs. Everything else is just bruised. You were pretty lucky. We’ll get you all ready to leave and you can come back in two weeks, or earlier if needed, for a follow-up appointment. So I recommend just going home to rest.”
* * *
That evening I’m lying on the couch with nothing to do, thinking about the same thing I have been all day. Ivy, in a strange new place, probably wondering why her best friend had abandoned her. Nokken, thinking I had just dumped her with them and left. I feel so horrible. I told my mom I wanted to go to the library, but she won’t have it. She offered to go there and bring me books, but I told her I wanted to just browse. Really, I just need to go make sure they’re all okay.
I good enough to walk, but not to run. The bruises are deep and purple-red. They hurt, but not too bad, I would be fine. The bruises have healed fast. I need to go see Nokken and Ivy. Two more days pass much the same way; sitting on the couch worrying. They probably hate me by now. Soon, I switch to my beanbag upstairs. Mom and dad are downstairs watching TV when a knock sounds at the door.
Who could that be? I wonder.
I hear my dad answer the door. “Hello. What can I do for you?”
The voice is recognizable. “Umm, hello sir. I’m Nokken, is this where Willow lives?”
“Yes, I suppose you heard what happened and came to visit?” Dad assumes.
“No, what happened?!” Nokken asks, alarmed.
Dad tells him I was hit by a car, but that I’ll be okay.
“Oh God! Really?!” cries Nokken. “Where is she? Can I see her?”
Dad seems to remember his manners. “Oh, of course! Please, come in. She’s upstairs.”
“Thank you,” says Nokken, and I hear his nimble feet ascend the stairs. He knocks on my door.
“Come on in.” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding hoarse.
He throws open the door and enters the room. I sit up slowly. I’m trying, and failing, to look like I’m not in pain. My rib hurts pretty bad, to be honest. I take in the sight of him. He is wearing a pair of my cargo pants and one of my old T shirts that I packed for Ivy. He’s probably taller and skinnier than me by just a little, and they were boy’s clothes, so he looks fine in them.
I hope Dad didn’t notice they were mine…
His hair has been cut, too. It deviates to one side like an emo boy. It’s cut away from his face, and goes just over his bright green eyes. They peek out from under his hair. It’s obviously been sheared away with a knife, probably by Ivy. It looks like he just shook it from side to side until it dried, thin and straight. He looks amazing as always.
Then he runs up to me and falls to his knees by my side. “Are you alright? What happened? Where have you been? God, I’ve been so worried!”
I wrap my arms around his neck, ignoring the sting of the bruises. “I’m okay. It doesn’t really hurt. Your hair looks nice that way.”
He detaches me from him and looks at me sternly. “Don’t lie, Willow. I can tell you’re in pain. Tell me what happened.”
“I was running home from bringing Ivy to you guys and I guess a car hit me. I don’t really remember, though… My rib is broken, but it’ll heal. The rest are just bruises.” I mumble.
His eyes get wide and watery. They are so beautiful and vivid. He almost breaks into tears as he says, “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. There’s no reason for you to be sorry. I ditched you with Ivy and didn’t find a way to tell you where I was. My parents won’t let me leave the house. I’m fine, though, really.” I say.
He grabs my hand with both of his and says, “Something tells me that there wasn’t a way to be found of telling us where you were. You’re parents were probably scared to death!”
“They’re still alive, aren’t they?” I ask him sarcastically. He smiles and rolls his eyes.I ask, “So, what are you doing here, anyway? And how’d you find my house?”
He opens the left thigh pocket of my cargo pants, where I usually hide candy, and takes out the map Ivy and I packed. Drawn with charcoal, there is a route from the forest trail to my house.
“Ivy showed me.” He says. “We were beginning to worry about you, so I came. It had to be me because I’m not in hiding and I don’t have the ears and tail of a lion. In fact, I’m very easily passed off as human.” He brags.
“Weren’t you worried that someone might be suspicious?” I ask him.
“Yeah, that’s why Ivy cut my hair and gave me different clothes.” He says. “Boys these days wear a lot of weird stuff. Ivy even made me ‘sag my pants.’ What does that mean?”
I laugh. “It’s just how boys wear their pants. Did Ivy tell you whose clothes those are?”
“No. I thought they were her’s or just some random guy’s.” He says looking puzzled.
“They’re mine.” I say with a giggle.
“You mean they’re girl’s clothes?!” He demands.
I burst into hysterical laughter at his outrage. “No.” I manage to get out through laughs. It hurts to laugh. He laughs too, and then he puts his arm around my shoulders. I curl into him and I can feel his heart beating hard and fast.
“Am I hurting you?” He asks cautiously. I shake my head ‘no.’ Then I scoot over so he can share the bean bag with me. He moves up from the floor to sit next to me, then puts his free arm under my knees and pulls me onto his lap so that my back is against the inside of his thigh and my knees are over his other leg. He props himself up against the wall behind the beanbag and I lay my head on his shoulder.
My eyes fix on his neck. I can see his veins and tendons underneath his smooth skin. I can’t shake the temptation to do it, so I allow myself to press my lips to his neck. It sends a tingle through me, causing my eyes to flutter shut and my cheeks to get hot. The heat spreads throughout my body, pulsing. I want to kiss his mouth. I kiss his neck again, working my way up. When I come to his jaw, I kiss him up to his forehead and over his brow and then down to the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips.
While we kiss, his arm slides out from under my knees, slips under my arm and curves around my back, pulling me closer to him. He is gentle and careful, but that’s not what I want. I slide my hands down his chest and his abdomen to the hem of his T-shirt and slip my fingers underneath it. I let my fingertips brush across his skin. It’s smooth and warm. I open my hands and press my palms to his ribs, still kissing him. Then I slide my left hand up to his heart, to feel it beating, and I realize something.
I love this boy.
He must realize it, too, because he takes his lips off of mine and whispers in my ear, “Willow?”
“Mmm hmm?” I answer, opening my brown eyes to look into his bright green ones.
He shakes a little as he says, “I think… I think…”
“What is it?”
“I think I might love you.” He mumbles nervously, as if he's admitting guilt to a crime.
With wonder, I ask “Really?”
He nods, biting his lip. I feel a lurching ache in my chest, the same one I feel whenever I look into his eyes. I choose my next words carefully. “I adore you.” I whisper and then glance at the floor embarrassedly and then back at Nokken. His eyes express admiration. Although, I’m not really sure why anyone would be attracted to me this way, I’m not exceptionally pretty, but I’m not going to question it. I trust Nokken, and I’m glad he likes me. Loves me, even.
“Do you want to go downstairs? Maybe you can stay for lunch.” I ask. He nods and smiles. Then he slides his arm back under my knees and stands, cradling me.
“Put me down, you’ll hurt yourself!” I cry. He lets me fall a few inches as if he’s going to drop me, and them catches me again, producing a small shriek from me. Then he sets me on my feet and I lead him out my door and down the stairs. At one point, my steps jar my ribs and I cringe.
Nokken steadies me and says, “It hurts me that you’re in pain. I want to help.”
“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Don’t worry about it okay? Even if there was something you could do, I wouldn’t want you to worry.” I tell him. When we get downstairs, I stand near the arm of the couch where my mom sits.
“Hey, Mom?” I ask.
“Yeah honey?” She says without taking her eyes off of the TV.
I say, “I was just wondering if Nokken could stay a while, maybe even for lunch and dinner?”
“It’s okay with me if your father says yes.”
Typical. I look to dad for an answer and he nods.
“Thank you.” Says Nokken politely.
“No problem kid.” says Dad. “Just don’t try any funny business with my daughter.” He adds sternly. I blush and, thankfully, Dad doesn’t see it.
“Of course not, sir.” says Nokken coolly, shooting be a discreet wink.
“Sir…” Dad repeats thoughtfully, “Huh. I like him.”
Nokken and I head back upstairs and he sits on my beanbag while I sit in my desk and write a letter of explanation for him to give Ivy. It basically just tells her what happened and when I hope to be there again. As I start my letter to Huldra, Nokken sits in my bean bag next to the desk. He soon becomes bored and starts to fondle my hair. It’s a boring light brown color and isn’t very long so I can’t imagine why he does it, but I ignore him and concentrate on my letter. I tell her the same things that are in Ivys letter, but with a few things added in. One specifically; if she found out ivy's motives for running away.
When I’m almost finished, Nokken starts to kiss the hand I’m not writing with. He kisses each of my fingertips, my wrist, and all the way up my arm. He goes over my shoulder and then starts to kiss my neck.
How am I supposed to get anything done? He’s so distracting… My thoughts seem to leave me all of a sudden, because Nokken gives my neck a playful nibble. My body responds without hesitation. I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, his face still pressed to the side of my collar. I slide out of the desk chair and onto the floor in front of him. Then he puts his hands on my waist and hugs me closer. My chest presses against his, and I can feel his heart beating through my chest. I put my lips close to his ear and whisper his name.
“Mmm hmm” he says into my neck.
I whisper back, “I love you.”
He pulls back to look at me with loving eyes and says, “I’m yours.”
“What?” I say, surprised.
“I belong to you.” He confesses. “Just you.”
Mine. I think contentedly.
I don’t know how to reply to that adequately, so I just nod. I’m not very good at expressing love or sympathy but I do feel both much more than most people do. I want to tell him that he is in full possession of my heart, that he has every claim to it, that I love him fervently… but I will never be bold enough to say things like that. Besides, I might blush. He would see it for sure. Nobody has ever really made me blush for that reason before and seen it. I don’t want that to change; it would be embarrassing.
If you don’t say it, Willow, you never will he’ll never get to hear those words and they mean so much to both of you. He has voiced his emotions to you and now you have to convey to him the endowment of your heart. I lecture myself with illustrious vocabulary until I can no longer argue and I give in to my own requirements.
“Nokken…” I force the words out. “You--y--you have complete possession of me, mind and body. If love came from the heart you would have possession of that, too, but love comes from your mind and I already gave you every part of me so there’s no need to give it again. I’m not very good at expressing love when I’m face-to-face with people, but I want you to know that I mean it. Really. It sometimes takes a little prodding to get me to say it and my reaction to your emotions might not always seem loving but I want you to know that I choose you. Over everybody else, it’s you who I admire most.” When I say it, it comes out breathy and rushed, but every bit as sincere as I meant it to be.
Nokken looks stunned, which is satisfying. For a moment, he says nothing. Then turns his face away as if he can’t bare to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him gently. “Did I upset you?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t speak.
I ask, “Did I do something to offend you? I’m sorry if I did”
“No, I’m sorry,” he answers. “You’re perfect and I don’t deserve you. Nobody should love me like that or give themselves up that way for me. It feels wrong. I was okay with me loving you and you not seeming to care, but I don’t know if I can let you love me…”
This surprises me. “Everybody deserves to be loved. If anybody didn’t, I would think it would be me. It feels right for me to love you, even if you don’t want it. And being loved by someone isn’t something you let them do, it’s something they do on their own. I want you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Of course I care! I just have trouble showing it, even to my parents.”
“Nobody but Huldra has loved me for a long time. Nobody has ever loved me the way you said you do. I’m not sure how to deal with it.” He says anxiously.
“You don’t have to deal with anything. Knowing you love me didn’t change the way I feel about you, so why should it matter for you?” I ask.
He sighs, “I guess it doesn’t, you’re right. It just makes me feel guilty, letting you give yourself up to me.”
“You’re not letting me. I want to. And isn’t it nice just to accept a gift every once in a while? I mean, I don’t like accepting any form of affection, but I’m selfish, because everyone is a little bit selfish. And I ‘let you love me’ because I wanted you to love me. Because I like being loved by you. Because you are perfect. Because even if I doesn’t think I deserve you, you deserve to love me and be loved back my me if that’s what you want.” I explain.
“You want to love me?”
“Yes!” I cry. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”
He asks, “Will loving me make you happy?”
“It already does,” I answer affectionately.
He twists a strand of my hair around his finger.
“Well, then I guess I can allow that.” He says, mimicking what I said on the dock, with a grin.
“What do you guys want for lunch?” Mom calls up the stairs. “I’m not really even sure what we have.”
I call back, “I’ll make lunch, don’t worry about it.”
I start to stand, but pain jabs into my ribs like a stone-cold spear. My breath hitches and I try to hide my pain, but I fall back into the chair.
“Here,” says Nokken, holding out his hand to help me up. I take it and he pulls me to my feet so that we stand inches apart. I twist toward the desk and grab the letters. Then I slip them into Nokken’s knee pocket without a word. He smiles and takes my hand, leading me towards the door. The stairs aren’t wide enough for us to stay connected, so he lets me walk down first. I run down the stairs, just because that’s what I always do.
When we get to the kitchen I open the cabinet and pull out a decent-size pot. Then I fill it with water and set it on the stove, putting the stove on high. While I wait for the water to boil, I collect ingredients; pasta, celery, carrots, onions, potatoes and half-and-half cream. Once I have all the ingredients, I set them on the counter. Nokken watches with fascination, and I am reminded that he isn’t accustomed to modern society at all.
I pull a cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and start chopping vegetables. Nokken gravitates closer to watch over my shoulder. I can feel his breath on my neck.
I turn and ask him, “Do you want to try?”
He nods eagerly so I hand him the knife, he’s going to hurt himself the way he’s holding it.
“Here, hold it like this,” I say, adjusting the knife in his hand. He starts to saw at the carrots.
I take the knife again and say, “Watch. you just cut at an angle and it’s easier.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, taking the knife back impatiently. I laugh and grab another knife and cutting board from the drawer. The water comes to a boil so I throw in all the chopped vegetables and pour in ¾ of a cup of half-and-half. Then I go to the spice cabinet. My mom has an elaborate collection of herbs and spices. I pull out salt, dill, onion salt… Ugh, I can’t reach the celery salt. I stretch as far as I can, but it’s just too high. Just as I place my foot on the counter and am about to hoist myself up, Nokken grabs my waist, lifts me off the ground about three inches, and sets me out of the way.
Then he says, “Which one?” and I point to it. He hands it to me with a smug look and I give him a sarcastic glare.
I shake the spices into my soup and then wait for the vegetables and noodles to get cooked. Then I take four bowls and put soup in them and a few crackers. Nokken silently takes soup to mom and dad.
When he returns to the kitchen, I say, “I could have done that, you know.”
“I know.” We take the soup upstairs.
When I’m halfway up, mom calls, “What are you guys doing up there?” She’s suspicious.
“Just talking.” I say.
Nokken adds, “She’s drawing pictures of me too.” Sounds reasonable.
Dad, wanting make things awkward, says, “Okay, just don’t draw him like one of Jack’s French girls.”
A Titanic reference, great.
“Nokken’s never seen Titanic, Dad.” I tell him.
“Oh.” He says. “Well what it comes down to is: keep your clothes on.”
Nokken blushes and says, “No worries, Sir.”
“Good.” says Dad curtly. I roll my eyes.
I start to sit up, but my head hasn’t lifted more than a few inches off the ground before I let it drop back down. My head is too heavy for my body to hold up, and the world swirls before me when I try again. I bring my hand up to touch my face and pain shoots through me, making my vision blurry. My hand comes away and I try to get my my eyes to focus again. I must be seeing things. My hand looks… red. When my eyes come back into focus, I see that my hand is dripping red liquid.
At first, I can’t comprehend what I am seeing through the haziness of my mind. Then I realize I’m bleeding. What? What happened? Then I can no longer hold my eyes open and I’m plunged into black. I hear the voices coming closer and hands touch me. More hands join them and they press into me, shooting pain throughout my entire body; so much pain that I can’t even tell what part of me hurts.
I moan and the voices become soothing. It doesn’t help. Then then hands ease me onto something softer and then the pressure of the hands is gone. I feel my upper body tipping higher and I scream. Then my lower body tips up to meet it and I am shoved forward. I hear a clack and then the sounds of car doors slamming. What’s happening?! My mother’s voice breaks through my confusion.
“It’s okay, Willow. You’ll be alright. I promise.” It says. I relax, but I relax too much. I lose consciousness.
* * *
My eyes open to a white ceiling and dim light. I ache all over. My body feels like it was pulverized and my head is pounding. For a while, I just stare at the ceiling. I’m not sure how much time goes by before I decide to have a look around, but when I do, I see white walls and blue patterned curtains. I can’t turn my head very far without pain. Needles poke into my hands; IV needles. Great. I’m in the hospital.
I hear the door open and see my mom walk in. Then I notice Dad snoring in the window seat.
“Mom?” I croak. My voice hurts. “What’s happening?”
“Oh, honey! We were so worried! I’m so sorry! I feel like this is all my fault!” Mom cries, bursting into tears. She runs to the side of the hospital bed.
“But…” I say as well as I can. “What happened?”
“Here, honey. Have some water.” She hands me a cup. “Oh, sweetie I’m so sorry!”
“MOM! What happened?!” I demand. At this point Dad wakes up. Mom tells him I’m awake and then leaves the room. “Dad, what happened?”
“Well, you were out looking for Ivy last night and a car hit you. You’re bruised up pretty bad. The doctor doesn’t know if anything is broken because you were losing so much blood that we couldn’t x-ray you. He says he’s pretty sure you broke at least one rib. You hit your head pretty hard, but he says you shouldn’t have any memory problems, so that’s good. Anyway, we’re going to do x-rays as soon as the doctor comes back in and sees that you’re awake.” He sees the look on my face. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get up. Your bed’s got wheels. You scared your mom pretty bad. She feels guilty for not going with you.”
“It’s not Mom’s fault.” I say.
“You’re right, it’s whatever moron who doesn’t know how to drive’s fault.” Dad says sourly.
“Everything happens for a reason, Dad. There’s no point in blaming anyone.” I tell him. “You’re right. I’m gonna go get your mother.”
Mom walks in with dads, his arm around her shoulders. I sip my water quietly. Mom comes over to my bed and hugs me. It hurts but I stifle my cry. Then she laughs nervously and sits down in the chair next to the bed. There’s a pillow and blanket there.
“Did you guys sleep here?” I ask.
“Yes.” Mom says. “We were so worried about you.”
“Sorry.” I tell her.
“Don’t apologize!”
Just then the doctor walks in and sees that I’m awake.
“Oh good.” He says. Let’s go get some xrays done.”
He wheels me down do the x-ray machine which, thank God, is not very far away. Every bump feels like a missile hitting me, and I have a very high pain tolerance. They move me from my bed to the x-ray table, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I taste blood, but it only makes me bite harder. When my body touches the cold metal I gasp and blanch. Then I start to shiver.
The doctor says, “You took most of the damage in your left arm and left side torso. I’m just going to x-ray the top half of your body from different angles, and then I’m gonna check your pelvis just to be safe because you have some swelling and bruising there as well.”
“Yeah, okay.” I say. Then I try to lay there as limp and still as I can, making myself docile to the doctor and my parents.
I tune everything out until Mom says, “Come on, Willow. Time to go back to the room.”
They lift me back onto the bed and roll me back down the hall.
“We’ll be in later with the x-ray results and diagnosis. Willow, it would be wise for you to get some rest. Don’t put any strain on your left side, okay?” Says the doctor.
“Sure thing.”
He leaves us in the hospital room. Mom has to go to work tomorrow, because she can’t take any more sick days unless it’s an emergency. So yesterday counted, but today didn’t…? Mom logic, I guess. Once she leaves, I ask Dad to tell me the details of what happened, because i don’t remember the crash at all.
“Like I said, you were out looking for Ivy, and it was dark. You were wearing black. The car came around the corner you were found at and probably didn’t see you until it was too late. They hit your left side and then ran.” He says.
“Is Ivy found? Wait-- how long I was I on the street?” I ask.
“No, Ivy’s still missing. You were there about an hour and forty-five minutes when someone found you. We had already contacted the police about Ivy, and when you didn’t come back we called them again and went out looking for you. The police called saying you’d been found and were in an ambulance so they gave us the street address and we hauled it over there as fast as we could.” He explains.
“But where’s the car?”
“Your aunt and uncle dropped it off in the parking lot for us.” Replies Dad.
“Oh.” I say, and then don’t say anything else because there’s nothing really to say. In the silence, I slip away into sleep. When I wake up, it’s only because my throat is parched and raw.
The light outside the window shows the evening. The doctor is in the room. I reach for the water cup and Mom and the doctor see me.
“Oh, good! You’re awake. So, your fifth rib down on the left is cracked, but it’s minor. We will give you an ace bandage to wrap around, that’s all we can really do for ribs. Everything else is just bruised. You were pretty lucky. We’ll get you all ready to leave and you can come back in two weeks, or earlier if needed, for a follow-up appointment. So I recommend just going home to rest.”
* * *
That evening I’m lying on the couch with nothing to do, thinking about the same thing I have been all day. Ivy, in a strange new place, probably wondering why her best friend had abandoned her. Nokken, thinking I had just dumped her with them and left. I feel so horrible. I told my mom I wanted to go to the library, but she won’t have it. She offered to go there and bring me books, but I told her I wanted to just browse. Really, I just need to go make sure they’re all okay.
I good enough to walk, but not to run. The bruises are deep and purple-red. They hurt, but not too bad, I would be fine. The bruises have healed fast. I need to go see Nokken and Ivy. Two more days pass much the same way; sitting on the couch worrying. They probably hate me by now. Soon, I switch to my beanbag upstairs. Mom and dad are downstairs watching TV when a knock sounds at the door.
Who could that be? I wonder.
I hear my dad answer the door. “Hello. What can I do for you?”
The voice is recognizable. “Umm, hello sir. I’m Nokken, is this where Willow lives?”
“Yes, I suppose you heard what happened and came to visit?” Dad assumes.
“No, what happened?!” Nokken asks, alarmed.
Dad tells him I was hit by a car, but that I’ll be okay.
“Oh God! Really?!” cries Nokken. “Where is she? Can I see her?”
Dad seems to remember his manners. “Oh, of course! Please, come in. She’s upstairs.”
“Thank you,” says Nokken, and I hear his nimble feet ascend the stairs. He knocks on my door.
“Come on in.” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding hoarse.
He throws open the door and enters the room. I sit up slowly. I’m trying, and failing, to look like I’m not in pain. My rib hurts pretty bad, to be honest. I take in the sight of him. He is wearing a pair of my cargo pants and one of my old T shirts that I packed for Ivy. He’s probably taller and skinnier than me by just a little, and they were boy’s clothes, so he looks fine in them.
I hope Dad didn’t notice they were mine…
His hair has been cut, too. It deviates to one side like an emo boy. It’s cut away from his face, and goes just over his bright green eyes. They peek out from under his hair. It’s obviously been sheared away with a knife, probably by Ivy. It looks like he just shook it from side to side until it dried, thin and straight. He looks amazing as always.
Then he runs up to me and falls to his knees by my side. “Are you alright? What happened? Where have you been? God, I’ve been so worried!”
I wrap my arms around his neck, ignoring the sting of the bruises. “I’m okay. It doesn’t really hurt. Your hair looks nice that way.”
He detaches me from him and looks at me sternly. “Don’t lie, Willow. I can tell you’re in pain. Tell me what happened.”
“I was running home from bringing Ivy to you guys and I guess a car hit me. I don’t really remember, though… My rib is broken, but it’ll heal. The rest are just bruises.” I mumble.
His eyes get wide and watery. They are so beautiful and vivid. He almost breaks into tears as he says, “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. There’s no reason for you to be sorry. I ditched you with Ivy and didn’t find a way to tell you where I was. My parents won’t let me leave the house. I’m fine, though, really.” I say.
He grabs my hand with both of his and says, “Something tells me that there wasn’t a way to be found of telling us where you were. You’re parents were probably scared to death!”
“They’re still alive, aren’t they?” I ask him sarcastically. He smiles and rolls his eyes.I ask, “So, what are you doing here, anyway? And how’d you find my house?”
He opens the left thigh pocket of my cargo pants, where I usually hide candy, and takes out the map Ivy and I packed. Drawn with charcoal, there is a route from the forest trail to my house.
“Ivy showed me.” He says. “We were beginning to worry about you, so I came. It had to be me because I’m not in hiding and I don’t have the ears and tail of a lion. In fact, I’m very easily passed off as human.” He brags.
“Weren’t you worried that someone might be suspicious?” I ask him.
“Yeah, that’s why Ivy cut my hair and gave me different clothes.” He says. “Boys these days wear a lot of weird stuff. Ivy even made me ‘sag my pants.’ What does that mean?”
I laugh. “It’s just how boys wear their pants. Did Ivy tell you whose clothes those are?”
“No. I thought they were her’s or just some random guy’s.” He says looking puzzled.
“They’re mine.” I say with a giggle.
“You mean they’re girl’s clothes?!” He demands.
I burst into hysterical laughter at his outrage. “No.” I manage to get out through laughs. It hurts to laugh. He laughs too, and then he puts his arm around my shoulders. I curl into him and I can feel his heart beating hard and fast.
“Am I hurting you?” He asks cautiously. I shake my head ‘no.’ Then I scoot over so he can share the bean bag with me. He moves up from the floor to sit next to me, then puts his free arm under my knees and pulls me onto his lap so that my back is against the inside of his thigh and my knees are over his other leg. He props himself up against the wall behind the beanbag and I lay my head on his shoulder.
My eyes fix on his neck. I can see his veins and tendons underneath his smooth skin. I can’t shake the temptation to do it, so I allow myself to press my lips to his neck. It sends a tingle through me, causing my eyes to flutter shut and my cheeks to get hot. The heat spreads throughout my body, pulsing. I want to kiss his mouth. I kiss his neck again, working my way up. When I come to his jaw, I kiss him up to his forehead and over his brow and then down to the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips.
While we kiss, his arm slides out from under my knees, slips under my arm and curves around my back, pulling me closer to him. He is gentle and careful, but that’s not what I want. I slide my hands down his chest and his abdomen to the hem of his T-shirt and slip my fingers underneath it. I let my fingertips brush across his skin. It’s smooth and warm. I open my hands and press my palms to his ribs, still kissing him. Then I slide my left hand up to his heart, to feel it beating, and I realize something.
I love this boy.
He must realize it, too, because he takes his lips off of mine and whispers in my ear, “Willow?”
“Mmm hmm?” I answer, opening my brown eyes to look into his bright green ones.
He shakes a little as he says, “I think… I think…”
“What is it?”
“I think I might love you.” He mumbles nervously, as if he's admitting guilt to a crime.
With wonder, I ask “Really?”
He nods, biting his lip. I feel a lurching ache in my chest, the same one I feel whenever I look into his eyes. I choose my next words carefully. “I adore you.” I whisper and then glance at the floor embarrassedly and then back at Nokken. His eyes express admiration. Although, I’m not really sure why anyone would be attracted to me this way, I’m not exceptionally pretty, but I’m not going to question it. I trust Nokken, and I’m glad he likes me. Loves me, even.
“Do you want to go downstairs? Maybe you can stay for lunch.” I ask. He nods and smiles. Then he slides his arm back under my knees and stands, cradling me.
“Put me down, you’ll hurt yourself!” I cry. He lets me fall a few inches as if he’s going to drop me, and them catches me again, producing a small shriek from me. Then he sets me on my feet and I lead him out my door and down the stairs. At one point, my steps jar my ribs and I cringe.
Nokken steadies me and says, “It hurts me that you’re in pain. I want to help.”
“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Don’t worry about it okay? Even if there was something you could do, I wouldn’t want you to worry.” I tell him. When we get downstairs, I stand near the arm of the couch where my mom sits.
“Hey, Mom?” I ask.
“Yeah honey?” She says without taking her eyes off of the TV.
I say, “I was just wondering if Nokken could stay a while, maybe even for lunch and dinner?”
“It’s okay with me if your father says yes.”
Typical. I look to dad for an answer and he nods.
“Thank you.” Says Nokken politely.
“No problem kid.” says Dad. “Just don’t try any funny business with my daughter.” He adds sternly. I blush and, thankfully, Dad doesn’t see it.
“Of course not, sir.” says Nokken coolly, shooting be a discreet wink.
“Sir…” Dad repeats thoughtfully, “Huh. I like him.”
Nokken and I head back upstairs and he sits on my beanbag while I sit in my desk and write a letter of explanation for him to give Ivy. It basically just tells her what happened and when I hope to be there again. As I start my letter to Huldra, Nokken sits in my bean bag next to the desk. He soon becomes bored and starts to fondle my hair. It’s a boring light brown color and isn’t very long so I can’t imagine why he does it, but I ignore him and concentrate on my letter. I tell her the same things that are in Ivys letter, but with a few things added in. One specifically; if she found out ivy's motives for running away.
When I’m almost finished, Nokken starts to kiss the hand I’m not writing with. He kisses each of my fingertips, my wrist, and all the way up my arm. He goes over my shoulder and then starts to kiss my neck.
How am I supposed to get anything done? He’s so distracting… My thoughts seem to leave me all of a sudden, because Nokken gives my neck a playful nibble. My body responds without hesitation. I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, his face still pressed to the side of my collar. I slide out of the desk chair and onto the floor in front of him. Then he puts his hands on my waist and hugs me closer. My chest presses against his, and I can feel his heart beating through my chest. I put my lips close to his ear and whisper his name.
“Mmm hmm” he says into my neck.
I whisper back, “I love you.”
He pulls back to look at me with loving eyes and says, “I’m yours.”
“What?” I say, surprised.
“I belong to you.” He confesses. “Just you.”
Mine. I think contentedly.
I don’t know how to reply to that adequately, so I just nod. I’m not very good at expressing love or sympathy but I do feel both much more than most people do. I want to tell him that he is in full possession of my heart, that he has every claim to it, that I love him fervently… but I will never be bold enough to say things like that. Besides, I might blush. He would see it for sure. Nobody has ever really made me blush for that reason before and seen it. I don’t want that to change; it would be embarrassing.
If you don’t say it, Willow, you never will he’ll never get to hear those words and they mean so much to both of you. He has voiced his emotions to you and now you have to convey to him the endowment of your heart. I lecture myself with illustrious vocabulary until I can no longer argue and I give in to my own requirements.
“Nokken…” I force the words out. “You--y--you have complete possession of me, mind and body. If love came from the heart you would have possession of that, too, but love comes from your mind and I already gave you every part of me so there’s no need to give it again. I’m not very good at expressing love when I’m face-to-face with people, but I want you to know that I mean it. Really. It sometimes takes a little prodding to get me to say it and my reaction to your emotions might not always seem loving but I want you to know that I choose you. Over everybody else, it’s you who I admire most.” When I say it, it comes out breathy and rushed, but every bit as sincere as I meant it to be.
Nokken looks stunned, which is satisfying. For a moment, he says nothing. Then turns his face away as if he can’t bare to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him gently. “Did I upset you?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t speak.
I ask, “Did I do something to offend you? I’m sorry if I did”
“No, I’m sorry,” he answers. “You’re perfect and I don’t deserve you. Nobody should love me like that or give themselves up that way for me. It feels wrong. I was okay with me loving you and you not seeming to care, but I don’t know if I can let you love me…”
This surprises me. “Everybody deserves to be loved. If anybody didn’t, I would think it would be me. It feels right for me to love you, even if you don’t want it. And being loved by someone isn’t something you let them do, it’s something they do on their own. I want you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Of course I care! I just have trouble showing it, even to my parents.”
“Nobody but Huldra has loved me for a long time. Nobody has ever loved me the way you said you do. I’m not sure how to deal with it.” He says anxiously.
“You don’t have to deal with anything. Knowing you love me didn’t change the way I feel about you, so why should it matter for you?” I ask.
He sighs, “I guess it doesn’t, you’re right. It just makes me feel guilty, letting you give yourself up to me.”
“You’re not letting me. I want to. And isn’t it nice just to accept a gift every once in a while? I mean, I don’t like accepting any form of affection, but I’m selfish, because everyone is a little bit selfish. And I ‘let you love me’ because I wanted you to love me. Because I like being loved by you. Because you are perfect. Because even if I doesn’t think I deserve you, you deserve to love me and be loved back my me if that’s what you want.” I explain.
“You want to love me?”
“Yes!” I cry. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”
He asks, “Will loving me make you happy?”
“It already does,” I answer affectionately.
He twists a strand of my hair around his finger.
“Well, then I guess I can allow that.” He says, mimicking what I said on the dock, with a grin.
“What do you guys want for lunch?” Mom calls up the stairs. “I’m not really even sure what we have.”
I call back, “I’ll make lunch, don’t worry about it.”
I start to stand, but pain jabs into my ribs like a stone-cold spear. My breath hitches and I try to hide my pain, but I fall back into the chair.
“Here,” says Nokken, holding out his hand to help me up. I take it and he pulls me to my feet so that we stand inches apart. I twist toward the desk and grab the letters. Then I slip them into Nokken’s knee pocket without a word. He smiles and takes my hand, leading me towards the door. The stairs aren’t wide enough for us to stay connected, so he lets me walk down first. I run down the stairs, just because that’s what I always do.
When we get to the kitchen I open the cabinet and pull out a decent-size pot. Then I fill it with water and set it on the stove, putting the stove on high. While I wait for the water to boil, I collect ingredients; pasta, celery, carrots, onions, potatoes and half-and-half cream. Once I have all the ingredients, I set them on the counter. Nokken watches with fascination, and I am reminded that he isn’t accustomed to modern society at all.
I pull a cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and start chopping vegetables. Nokken gravitates closer to watch over my shoulder. I can feel his breath on my neck.
I turn and ask him, “Do you want to try?”
He nods eagerly so I hand him the knife, he’s going to hurt himself the way he’s holding it.
“Here, hold it like this,” I say, adjusting the knife in his hand. He starts to saw at the carrots.
I take the knife again and say, “Watch. you just cut at an angle and it’s easier.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, taking the knife back impatiently. I laugh and grab another knife and cutting board from the drawer. The water comes to a boil so I throw in all the chopped vegetables and pour in ¾ of a cup of half-and-half. Then I go to the spice cabinet. My mom has an elaborate collection of herbs and spices. I pull out salt, dill, onion salt… Ugh, I can’t reach the celery salt. I stretch as far as I can, but it’s just too high. Just as I place my foot on the counter and am about to hoist myself up, Nokken grabs my waist, lifts me off the ground about three inches, and sets me out of the way.
Then he says, “Which one?” and I point to it. He hands it to me with a smug look and I give him a sarcastic glare.
I shake the spices into my soup and then wait for the vegetables and noodles to get cooked. Then I take four bowls and put soup in them and a few crackers. Nokken silently takes soup to mom and dad.
When he returns to the kitchen, I say, “I could have done that, you know.”
“I know.” We take the soup upstairs.
When I’m halfway up, mom calls, “What are you guys doing up there?” She’s suspicious.
“Just talking.” I say.
Nokken adds, “She’s drawing pictures of me too.” Sounds reasonable.
Dad, wanting make things awkward, says, “Okay, just don’t draw him like one of Jack’s French girls.”
A Titanic reference, great.
“Nokken’s never seen Titanic, Dad.” I tell him.
“Oh.” He says. “Well what it comes down to is: keep your clothes on.”
Nokken blushes and says, “No worries, Sir.”
“Good.” says Dad curtly. I roll my eyes.