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“I got it,” Annie called out, making her way over to the door. Her grandma was outback collecting herbs from the small garden they kept as dinner simmered on the stove, Annie working on a project at the table in the middle of the room the family shared, her younger sisters playing with dolls off to the side. If asked, she would most likely pick Sundays as her favorite day. Saturdays were nice too, usually a bit livelier, but there was something about the calm of Sundays, family together even if doing things separately, that spoke to her in a way other days didn’t.
The knock on the door had surprised her at first, as Sundays tended to be quiet days, another reason she appreciated them, but that didn’t stop the occasional client from stopping by, folks in need of a last minute tincture to get ready for the work of the coming week or to help soothe the pains remaining from their carrying on the night before. It was a testament to how relaxed Annie had been, opening the door before asking who was there, fully expecting to see an older woman on the other side, or perhaps a child sent over by a busy parent.
Instead, she found Elijah, hand still raised as if he were preparing to knock again. He lowered his arm as he took Annie in, scanning her from head to toe and back up again, like he was cataloging the parts of her, making sure she was well, solid, in one piece, real. She didn’t fight the tremor that made its way through her body, the feeling of his eyes tracing her so intense it was palpable, almost physical. Neither spoke, yet the moment didn’t feel awkward, the silence a blanket, blocking out the noise of the town, the neighbors, her siblings, and everything else around them until it was only them.
***
Smoke wasn’t sure what brought him back to the pretty girl’s house. Annie’s house. He had her name now, but the original one he’d first given to her still sufficed, bouncing in his head alongside images of her. Alongside memories of the feel of her. Days had passed and yet his body couldn’t forget her, the way she had felt pressed against him, splitting his attention between focusing on what could have been danger and daydreaming of getting even closer.
He’d been gripping the hilt of his knife so tightly to remain in the moment that an imprint of it was left on his hands for hours after. Stack had questioned him about it, wondering if his brother had gotten into trouble and demanding to know why he didn’t call on him for help. In a move most unlike him, Smoke lied.
He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t when it came to his brother, that was a rule they had. One he himself had set. But for some reason, the urge to keep Annie to himself for just a bit longer chased away all rational thoughts, all normal behavior. But the downside of being a twin was having someone who could read him as well as he read Stack, like knowing the contents of a book without ever having to open it. When he made up some story about knife throwing a bit too enthusiastically, he knew that Stack knew that something more was being held back. But the upside of having a twin was having someone in his corner at all times, who knew when to poke and prod, and when to let the other have it. Stack let him have it then, giving him a look saying they didn’t need to talk about it that day, but they would talk about it one day. He took the win.
Sometimes, most times, Smoke felt like he had so little in this world. A brother, whom he loved dearly, but one that came with much stress. More trauma than anyone his age should have experienced. A friend in Bo, the boy he had little in common with, but things still just clicked. Those things meant something to him of course, but he’d always wanted more. More money. More power. More freedom. Now, he wanted her.
That had been a few days ago, not that he’d been counting down since he last saw her. Not really. Not consciously. But some part of him was. Because one minute he’d been out, just walking, following his feet, taking in the town he called home, the one he knew he’d be leaving as soon as he could. And the next, he was knocking on her door.
***
Annie was the one to break the silence.
“Elijah.”
Just his name. Said softly, like it was something special.
The first time she’d said it aloud in days, despite thoughts of him running through her mind nonstop since she watched him jog away. Once she’d gone back inside her grandma had asked her for an extended recount of events and she’d given it, then things went back to normal for her. Helping around the house, being entertained by her younger siblings, learning all she could from her grandma.
But even with her routine going as usual, Annie felt as if something had shifted. As huge as her world had been before, encompassing both the physical and the spiritual, experiencing things most never would and embracing every second of it, something about meeting Elijah seemed to expand it even more. She knew that even if she never saw him again, he’d made an impact on her. And from his reappearance, it seemed as if she’d made an impact on him as well.
“Annie.”
Just her name, said reverently, like it was something precious.
“What brings you by?”
“I…,” he paused to find his words. “I was just in the neighborhood. Figured it would be rude to not stop by seeing as how close I was.”
“Elijah, you stay across town. Didn’t I mention last time that this friendship won’t work if we’re not honest with each other.” Her tone was joking, but her words honest.
He looked at her again, silently as he seemed to be weighing something in his head. She hadn’t known him for long, more familiar with the idea of him than the real him, which she hoped to get to know more of as well, but she had quickly learned that he was the type to think things over three or four times before finally speaking, making every word count.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said.
She felt a flutter in her chest, a warming in her stomach, her cheeks, his honesty striking in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She liked it.
Before she could respond and let him know that he’d been on her mind too, Annie heard motion behind her.
“Annie, who’s at the door?” Her grandma asked, coming in from out back. The bubble they’d been in burst, the blanket removed as quickly as it had covered them. Annie felt near sluggish as she shook it off, pulling herself together to answer her grandma.
Even without touching, she could sense the tension that sunk into Elijah’s body, like a snake coiled up, preparing to strike. She gave him a reassuring look, which turned into a glare when he refused to relax. She guessed he didn’t meet family often.
“My friend, Elijah.” She answered, never once taking her eyes off him. Following her intuition, listening to that thing inside her that she’d trusted for years and hadn’t been betrayed by yet, she reached out, grabbing onto Elijah’s arm and pulling him inside.
***
It felt a bit like tugging on a tree, with how rigid he had gone. But still, he followed her inside without much fuss, standing awkwardly by the door as if unsure what to do next. Her grandma walked over, brushing her hands off on the apron around her waist and eyeing Elijah, her siblings in the corner doing something similar.
“The young man you told me about,” her grandma said, not a question, her memory sharp and recalling all that Annie had told her. She made her way closer, eyes never leaving his. She came to a stop in front of Elijah, towering over him in power despite being shorter than him in height. The woman’s presence, warm and welcoming, was large enough to fill the room and beyond.
Slowly, as if to be sure Elijah could watch each of her movements, she reached out and pulled him into a hug, loosely at first, giving him time to back away, only tightening once the tension released from his body bit by bit, his arms coming to wrap around her in return as he sunk into the embrace like he wanted it, needed it even.
Her grandma began to rock them a bit and while Annie was nervous that Elijah might be overwhelmed, she knew he did nothing without wanting to. If he hadn’t backed away yet, it’s because he felt at okay where he was.
“Thank you for keeping her safe. Thank you,” her grandma said.
“It was the least I could do,” she heard Elijah reply.
“It means everything to me,” her grandma said in return. They stayed embraced for a second longer before her grandma pulled back, a slight mist in her eyes. She blinked it away, the sunshine bright smile she usually wore coming back.
“I’m assuming you’re staying for dinner, right? Why don’t you and Annie get the table set, food will be ready soon.” She directed, walking away before Elijah could answer.
He looked to Annie, who just shrugged her shoulders before motioning for him to follow her. She turned around and immediately came face to face with her smiling sisters, their giggles suddenly filling the room.
She shooed them away, knowing that introduction would be the hardest to make and delaying it just a bit longer.
***
Soon she and Elijah were pacing around the table, with him following her as she placed plates first, him coming around next with utensils. The task normally wouldn’t take long, but they found a way to extend it, enjoying the orbit they’d created as they circled the table again and again, fixing a fork, moving a plate an inch, moving it back.
A swinging caught Annie’s eye as she and Elijah rotated again.
“I see you’re still wearing the mojo I gave you,” she said conversationally.
“Want me to take it off?” he asked. He was such a prickly boy. She hated to admit that she liked it. Just a little.
“That’s up to you.” She tossed back.
“And if it were up to you?”
“You’d be safe.” She looked pointedly at the bag resting against his chest, then raised her eyes to meet his.
They stared at each other, the blanket once again descending over them, wrapping around them, making their bubble.
Before it could fully rest, a sister came over, sitting herself at the table, large eyes looking between them both as if she’d found a new form of entertainment.
“Might as well introduce yall,” Annie said, with an exaggerated sigh to make her sister laugh. What she didn’t expect was for Elijah’s facial muscles to respond as well. Not a smile exactly, but something close.
***
Soon, they were seated next to each other, food being passed around the table. Elijah was concise as he spoke, answering the questions tossed at him from Annie’s grandma and siblings, asking one in return occasionally, even briefly teaching Annie’s youngest sister negotiation tips for toys, tips she doubted the girl would remember, but it made her happy all the same.
During a lull in the conversation, Annie took a minute to think on how things had unfolded since the day they met, the series of events that had to have happened to lead Elijah to her side at family dinner. Even without the knowledge she’d learned from her grandma, she would have known that something like this didn’t happen by coincidence. They’d been led to each other.
Looking over at him, she realized that Elijah was a Sunday. Strong and steady, reliable, sometimes a bit scary, but a space to rest in, to reset.
Slowly, as to not attract any attention from the others, he leaned into Annie’s space, whispering into her ear, “What’s that face for?”
One day she’d be able to control her body’s reaction to his voice, suppress the shivers that overcame her whenever he got just close enough. Maybe she’d also learn to control her expressions.
“Just thinking,” she answered.
“About?”
“Nothing much.”
“Aren’t you the one always going on about us being honest with each other?” Again, that almost smile of his appeared, so endearing it made her laugh, which she attempted to stifle with a cough.
She caught her grandma’s eye, but thankfully the kind, knowing woman said nothing, just pushed a glass of water towards her granddaughter.
After taking a sip, she turned to Elijah again.
“Let’s head outside for a bit,” she said.
***
After helping to clean up, Annie’s grandma agreed to let them head out as long as they stayed close, giving Smoke one more hug before shooing them away, leaving the door cracked.
Usually, Smoke wasn’t the one for much physical affection, hugs with his brother and sometimes Sammie normal, but something he largely left to Stack. But when Annie’s grandma wrapped her arms around him, he thought maybe he’d been denying his need, pushing it down so he could focus on other things. In the few days since he’d known Annie, many needs he hadn’t acknowledged before arose with a fervor he couldn’t push away so easily.
Maybe he didn’t want to anymore.
Just like last time, they found themselves on her steps, thigh to thigh, Smoke’s mind fixated on the feel of her once again. Losing track of his thoughts wasn’t something he did often, not a habit he wanted to develop, but with Annie, he felt less apprehensive about trying new things.
The sun was just setting, just like before, the summer air soft, not stifling, but comforting. He let himself be in the moment instead of existing somewhere in an unknown future, if only for the evening. Just him, a pretty girl, and a connection that made him feel more awake and aware than he’d felt it years.
Like earlier, Annie was the first to break the silence.
“What’s your favorite day of the week?”
***
Weeks had passed since Elijah’s surprise visit, but if asked, Annie would still easily answer that Sundays were her favorite days.
Sundays with Elijah felt even better, slipping away from everyone else and finding a spot out by the trees to just be.
The trees near the road had become a bit of an inside joke for the two of them, a reminder of how and when they’d first started orbiting each other, hidden away from potential danger while something new and exciting, maybe just as dangerous, took root.
On days of rest, they joined each other off the road for just a bit of time to themselves alone, a knitted blanket under them, the quiet blanketing them.
The sun beaming down, it’s glow warming them just as they warmed each other, lulling them into comfort and relaxation. The sounds around them, others moving about their afternoon, small animals and birds filling the space, just enough background noise to keep them aware of their surroundings, but not so much to burst their bubble.
Elijah’s head resting in Annie’s lap as she ran her fingers across his scalp, through hair he kept short and neat, making their way to his face, smoothing out the crease between his brows that seemed near permanent, no matter how relaxed he was, running along the bridge of his nose, tracing the mustache just growing in, wondering if he’d keep it, then following the curves of his lips.
He was like a Sunday and she couldn’t get enough.