Free Soul Catcher by Katia Lief Page A

much.’
    ‘It’s different.’
    ‘What am I supposed to do? She’s so weird. She’s nothing like Mom.’
    ‘Shh. They’ll hear you.’
    ‘I don’t care.’
    ‘You’ll hurt his feelings. Couldn’t you see how sensitive he is about it? He’s so scared you won’t accept him now.’
    I rolled my eyes. But I knew, inside, that Patrick was right.
    ‘I know how you feel,’ he said. ‘I’ve been through it, remember?’ His forehead was tense and his eyes were staring at me. I knew that look; he was worrying. I felt guilty for my selfishness in consuming his emotions like this, at stirring up tension and doubt. I had seen how fragile he was underneath all his calm. I had seen him shatter and fly away.
    I rolled over so we were facing each other.
    ‘Tell me,’ I said.
    ‘What?’
    “That you know I love you a lot.’
    He smiled. ‘I know you love me a lot.’
    ‘Swear?’
    ‘Swear.’
    He kissed me — a soft, luscious kiss — as his hand ran down along my back. My old flannel nightgown was thin enough for me to feel his fingers press into my skin. Chills danced up my back, and I shivered.
    He hummed, ‘Ummm,’ and kissed me again.
    ‘Roll over,’ he said, ‘I’ll give you a back-rub.’
    Maybe it was naive of me, but I was genuinely surprised when he raised my nightgown. I didn’t resist. This was Patrick, my Patrick, and I trusted him. He looked at my breasts before turning me over. His hands felt warm and dry as they kneaded my back. I could feel myself relaxing; muscles I never knew I had turned to goop. When his fingers grazed the sides of my breasts, a tingle ran through my body and I realized how wet I was between my legs, and what it meant.
    ‘How do you feel?’ he whispered.
    Smart, nervous remarks flitted through my mind, but I rejected all of them. How did I feel? I felt good! I felt greatl I rolled over and stretched my arms above my head. He knelt over me, straddling my body, gazing watery-eyed at my bare moon breasts. I would give myself to him, in love, passion, adventure and trust. I would let him grow me up into a woman. Release me from my girl-self and my former life. Sex. I thought that was all it would take.
    I closed my eyes and waited for him to do it, whatever it was; to begin me as a woman. He lowered himself over me, slowly, coming closer and closer, blanketing me with his shadow, until finally his lips touched my forehead.
    Then he rolled back to his own sleeping bag, and whispered, ‘Goodnight.’
    Brunch the next morning was homemade blueberry pancakes covered in hot Vermont maple syrup mixed with sweet butter. Lisa was really going all-out to hook Dad completely. I suppose she wanted to marry him. Hot buttery syrup! Patrick kept throwing me looks that told me to act as if I liked it. Well, I did like it, but I didn’t see why she should know. She had Dad. What else did she want from me?
    Later, when Lisa went shopping and Patrick was blitzed out in front of the t.v., I stole some private time with Dad. He was reading in his bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed.
    ‘Dad,’ I said, ‘tell me about when you and Mom met.’
    He looked up from his book. ‘You’ve heard that story a hundred times.’
    ‘I know, but I want to hear it again. Please.’
    He set the book on his lap. ‘Mom was standing online to register for an English Lit class. I was on the next line, for a Philosophy class.’ He stopped as if that was all, but I knew there was more to it.
    ‘You couldn’t stop looking at her.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And she smiled.’
    ‘Why do you need to hear all this again?’
    ‘Because I like it. If you hadn’t stood on those lines, I wouldn’t exist.’ The thought had always intrigued me.
    ‘I can hardly believe you’re almost sixteen years old.’
    ‘When you asked Mom out, did she think about it, or did she say yes right away?’
    ‘I don’t remember.’
    ‘She said yes, and you went to the cafeteria and had coffee.’
    ‘Are you happy at