Georgia grabbed my hand back stubbornly, and lifting it up, she gently placed a kiss on each fingertip for each item on the list. “Georgia’s eyes. Georgia’s hair. Georgia’s smile. Georgia’s personality. Georgia’s kisses.” She batted her eyes. “See? Definitely five greats for Moses.”
I really couldn’t argue with that. All of those things were pretty great.
“Feeling pretty good about yourself, aren’t you?” I said, shaking my head, grinning in spite of myself. My fingers tingled where her lips had been. I wanted her to do it again. And somehow, she knew it. She pulled my hand back to her mouth. “And these are mine.” She kissed my smallest finger. “Moses’s eyes.” She moved to my ring finger. “Moses’s smile.” Another kiss on the tallest tip. “Moses’s laugh.” Her lips were so soft. “Moses’s art.” She rounded to my thumb and placed her mouth gently against the pad. “Moses’s kisses.” Then she moved her lips from my fingertips and pressed her mouth to my palm.
“Those are my five greats for Georgia today. Those were my five greats yesterday and they will be tomorrow and the next day, until your kisses get old. Then I’ll have to think of something else.”
Georgia
WE ALL STARED. Even though it was only the second week of the new school year and he was a new student, everybody knew Moses. Or of him. He wasn’t white, for starters, in a small school of mostly white kids, so that made him stand out. Plus, he was beautiful. But that’s not why we were staring. Moses was in my English Lit classroom, drawing on the board, and he wasn’t even enrolled in the class. We’d come back from lunch to find him there, the two huge boards filled with a drawing that was beyond anything any of the students had ever seen. Except for me. I knew what he was capable of.
Moses had halted abruptly, as if torn between finishing his masterpiece and running from the room. And then Ms. Murray was there, and running was no longer an option. There was a black smudge on his brown cheek and the sides of his hands were stained as well, as if he’d used them as tools to blend and create the erotic image behind him. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and his eyes were restless and wide, their golden color making him look like a cornered animal. And he was definitely cornered. Ms. Murray stood in the doorway, her eyes trained on the chalkboard. When I looked at her to see whether or not Moses was going to get yelled at, or worse, kicked out of school, I noticed that there were tears streaming down her face and her hands were pressed to her lips. It was kind of a weird response.
Ms. Murray wasn’t really a crier. She was usually pretty serious and stiff. She was a good teacher and she didn’t yell or get all emotional when kids messed up or were disrespectful, which I frankly appreciated. High school was crazy enough without teachers adding to the drama. When Ms. Murray wasn’t happy, she usually just stared you down and started heaping on the homework. She didn’t cry.
This wasn’t good. Apparently Moses recognized that fact, because he dropped the marker clutched in his hand and stepped away, looking from side to side like he was planning his escape.
“What is that, anyway?” Charlie Morgan spoke up, never one to hold still or hold his tongue. I usually hated that he could never shut up. But I didn’t hate it now. Now, I was glad. I was glad because I wanted to know too. Charlie pointed at the board. “Is that a waterfall?
When Moses didn’t respond Charlie continued. “Behind the waterfall—those are people, right?” Charlie laughed. “They’re making out! And it doesn’t look like they’re wearing any clothes.”
A few of my classmates laughed, but we all stared, our eyes drawn to the way the water spilled down from the cliffs surrounding the two people who were almost hidden in the silvery fall. If I squinted, blurring the reality of the black lines and the unromantic whiteboard, I could almost imagine the picture was real, that the people behind the water were living and breathing, that they were truly kissing and we were peering through the spray, watching the intimate encounter unfold. And they were definitely naked. I felt my cheeks get hot and I pulled my eyes away. Looking at what Moses had drawn made my skin feel too tight and my body ache with a need that had become an ever-present thing where Moses was concerned. It made me think of the night at the water tower, and the kisses we had shared and the heat that had remained in my belly long after we parted.
“Did you draw that?” Another kid spoke up from behind me. It sounded like Kirsten, but I didn’t turn my head to see for sure. “It’s so good. You’re an amazing artist.”
“Students!” Ms. Murray had found her voice, though it shook and wavered like she was still crying. “I need you to head out to the commons area. Take your things. Use the time to work on the paper due Friday. Moses, please stay.”
Working on my paper didn’t sound half as interesting as seeing Ms. Murray crying over a whiteboard drawing of naked people, drawn by none other than Moses Wright—my Moses—who also happened to be the strangest person I’d ever met. But free-time was way better than instruction, and I didn’t have any choice in the matter, so we all reluctantly rose and filed out the door. I was the last to leave, and I caught Moses’s eye as I let the door shut behind me. He looked as if he wanted to call me back, as if he wanted to explain. But then the door swung closed, and I stood on the other side. Still, I thought I heard Mrs. Murray ask Moses the weirdest question.
“How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know about Ray?”