Friended

by Kilby Blades

  Jesus. I'd been so love-drunk these past couple of weeks that I'd forgotten to do cleanup on how it all began. I'd intended to ask Deck and Gunther after my date with Roxy in Littleton to corroborate my story if anyone ever asked. But I'd forgotten and here we were, and I had to make sure he understood.

  "She can never find out the truth."

  My voice held equal parts determination and fear. Things with us were still new and we were on the verge of something wonderful. Hearing it could make her doubt everything.

  "What's the big deal, man?" Declan frowned. “It's kind of a funny story. Roxy would understand."

  "Roxy would understand?" I mimicked incredulously, "I guess since women are so understanding all of a sudden, I can tell Annika what she'll find if she looks in the second spare tire bay in the back of your Jeep. I'm sure she'd be particularly interested in your fetish for electrical ass fucking and your membership to Sexy Preggo Sluts."

  "That's fucked up," Declan scowled before casting a guilty glance toward where a ferocious-looking Annika took no prisoners as she played the game.

  "I know," I admitted, "but I want Roxy to like me. And this is one in a small but lethal handful of secrets she is not allowed to know. If she asks you, lie. I'm serious, man. She can never find out the truth."

  Declan looked back at me and nodded his acquiescence.

  "Too late," Roxy's angry, hurt voice growled at my back.

  Please, no.

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  "Roxy," I began, turning to face her, but all I saw was her back. She was already walking away.

  Part Three

  Total Eclipse of the Heart

  Twenty-Two

  Daughters

  Fathers, be good to your daughters.

  Daughters will love like you do.

  Girls become lovers who turn into mothers.

  So, mothers be good to your daughters, too.

  -John Mayer, Daughters

  Lucas Vega

  "Breakfast, Roxx?”

  I poked my head into her room and saw that she was still in bed.

  "I thought we'd go to the di—"

  Taking in my daughter’s wide, unfocused eyes, I stopped short. She looked awake, but not really there. My adrenaline surged.

  "What happened?" My voice was authoritative and alarmed.

  Her eyes were eerily blank as she looked up at me.

  "Did somebody hurt you?" I struggled to keep my calm.

  That seemed to snap her out of it, because suddenly her eyes were sharp.

  "What? No, Dad. Just…no."

  Her quick reaction—an intuitive one—caused me to believe her.

  "I think Jagger and I broke up," she whispered miserably.

  Kids and their whirlwind romances. He only took her to that concert two weeks ago…

  Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, I stayed with her in silence. Having recently bought a book about being a single father to a teenage girl, I knew there was a chance she'd want to "talk".

  "You think, but you're not sure?"

  She sniffled miserably.

  "Technically, I never said the words."

  So it was she who broke up with him. Good.

  She sat up a little and fixed me with searching eyes.

  "If a girl just kept walking away, even if you were calling after her, would you think you were broken up?"

  Attagirl, Roxx! I concealed a smile.

  "That would depend on what I'd done."

  She held a tissue in her hand, one that her fingers had started to shred.

  "He lied to me, Dad."

  Then she launched into a lengthy story. To tell you the God's honest truth, what they were fighting about sounded like the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. But I thought of the parenting book and how I was supposed to be supportive and remember that I, too, had been a teenager once.

  "Give yourself some time, Roxx. If he's worth his salt, he'll wait as long as it takes."

  I reached to the back of her head and tousled her hair. Her answering smile was sad but grateful. Before letting me leave she'd made me promise to run interference on all of her visits and calls.

  Ten minutes later I was walking out the door to head to the diner alone. I was thinking about whether to bring Roxy back pancakes or waffles to cheer her up when I tripped over something large.

  What the hell?

  My gaze shot to my feet. Jagger Monroe and his crazy hair were sleeping on my porch.

  Not so much sleeping anymore.

  The kid had startled awake. For a brief moment, he was bewildered. I saw the moment recollection set in. I almost felt bad for the guy for how quickly his face fell, but I was on Roxy's side.

  “Mr. Vega, good morning."

  I got the sense that Jagger was well-mannered, even when he wasn't kissing my ass. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I liked the kid, but I liked that my daughter liked him, at least until last night. She was barely seventeen, but her judgement of character had always been good.

  "Morning, Jagger. I know why you're here. But, I'm sorry—she's asked not to see you. Now, that's what she said, but this part is from me: Do not. Lie. To my daughter."

  He looked deeply ashamed as he scrambled to his feet. I saw the moment his gaze swept over my utility knife, the instant he recalled our talk from the week before.

  "Now, you’re gonna leave and I'm going out to get breakfast and you’re gonna give my daughter some time."

  Something more flashed in his eyes—this time, resolve.

  "With all due respect, sir, I'd like to stay. I doubt that my word means much to her right now, so I'd like my presence to speak for how much I care."

  Holy hell.

  The kid loved Roxy. I could see it in his eyes. He reminded me of a young me.

  "And, sir? I can guarantee you that I will never lie to Roxy again and that lying last night was the stupidest thing I've ever done."

  I sighed and scrubbed my fingers over my beard. I'd been in the doghouse with a woman enough times to want to give him a chance.

  "I appreciate that, but I have to respect Roxy's wishes. I'll be sure to tell her you were here."

  Continuing down the steps and hoping to effectively end the conversation, I listened for his steps behind me. His feet didn't move and instead I got his voice, steady and strong.

  "I know you've been in love before, Mr. Vega. What I mean is, I know you and Roxy's mother were once in love. Only love could create a person as special as Roxy."

  My feet stopped moving and I turned back to look at him again. This kid is good.

  "Well, I'm in love with your daughter. And I mean no disrespect to you or her, sir. I only mean to fix it.”

  The thing was, I could smell bullshit from miles away, and he was sincere.

  "I left a message on her phone asking her to come out and talk to me. If she doesn't, I swear I'll leave her alone. No throwing stones at her window. I'll let her come to me."

  I didn't have the heart to tell him she was stubborn like her mother. Both of them could brood for days. Taking pity on him, I nodded and looked down at my feet. I didn't want the kid to starve. He looked pretty beat down and could probably use some breakfast.

  "How do you like your eggs?"

  Twenty-Three

  Superman (It’s Not Easy)

  It may sound absurd, but don't be naive

  Even heroes have the right to bleed.

  I may be disturbed, but won't you concede

  Even heroes have the right to dream.

  -Five for Fighting, Superman (It’s Not Easy)

  Jagger

  I wasn't sure Mr. Vega liked me, but I no longer suspected he wished me dead. He had brought me breakfast and coffee and left the front door open so I could use the small bathroom in the hall. By Sunday evening, the Vega porch had hosted a revolving door of visitors. Friends and family brought reinforcements and the occasional word of advice.

  Declan was the first, and I was unspeakab
ly happy to see him. Aside from my transgression against Roxy, what I'd asked of Declan had been out of line. I apologized for being a dick and using what I knew about his "recreational activities" as leverage, assuring him I'd said all of it not out of intention, but fear. He accepted the apology with grace, and sat with me awhile in silent solidarity because that's the kind of friend Declan was.

  Zoë was next. I suspected that if she hadn’t found me there by coincidence, she might have paid me a visit of her own.

  "I know why you did what you did," she announced, as she marched up the front steps. I had nearly a foot on her, but she got right in my face. "But if you ever lie to Roxy again, you'll be shitting teeth."

  After holding one of the most threatening glares that had been leveled at me in…well, ever, she continued on inside without another word. I was still a little spooked when she came out a moment later. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I'd thought she would be in there for hours.

  "Looks like Roxy won't see either of us." I could see the hurt through her pride.

  Before I could think up a response, she flipped her chin toward the gray fleece blanket I always kept in the trunk of my car.

  "What's that?"

  I looked at the blanket, then back at her.

  "It's what I slept under last night."

  She nodded approvingly, her gray eyes twinkling as she got set to leave. A second before she disappeared into her car, she called two words and smiled.

  "Carry on."

  My mother was next. I'd explained where I was on the phone the night before. When I hadn't returned by noon she’d called ahead to find out what I wanted for lunch. I placed a tall order that involved a basket of supplies and made an afterthought out of the food. We'd split one of the three BLTs she brought (go overboard much, Mom?) and a thermos of hot cider while sitting on the porch step.

  After years of practice, she knew not to fuss or hound. She could tell that I was beating myself up enough for everyone, and spared her admonitions. In knowing her as well, I correctly anticipated that she wouldn’t leave without imparting a kernel of wisdom.

  "God brings men into deep water, not to drown them but to cleanse them," she whispered in my ear as I hugged her goodbye.

  For the next hour, I sat with the guitar-monogrammed note cards and letter paper my mother had brought me from home. God bless that woman for thinking of the little stuff. As I began squeezing fathoms of my feelings onto the small canvas I had to work with, I concluded that the written word was an apt hedge for whatever else might fly from my mouth.

  I heard the engine of Gunther's '65 Mustang from half a mile down the road. He drove it so seldom, any other day I'd hop up at the chance to admire his flawless restoration. But he looked troubled as he emerged from his car. He cast a grim glance toward Roxy's window before crossing her front lawn slowly, his attention focused upward for a long moment before catching my eyes.

  "It's not about what happened last night. You know that, right?"

  I blinked. ”Then what is it about?"

  "That's easy, dude—she's scared."

  He sat down, and I felt a little bit better, somehow more open and calm. I let him talk, not above accepting help. He was comically dense when it came to Zoë, but when it came to figuring out everyone else’s shit, Gunther was pretty wise.

  "Love and hate are parallel emotions, just like anger and fear. No one was ever angry who wasn't afraid of something."

  I thought of my anger with Declan the night before.

  "What if I don't have the slightest idea what she’s afraid of?”

  "You may not, dude. You haven’t even been together two weeks. Besides, it's not like you can read minds."

  Fucking right I can't.

  "Yeah, especially not Roxy's."

  Gunther started playing with a blade of grass.

  "Look, dude. I can't say too much. But a mini-version of this happened with Zoë. She's got a bunch of baggage that has nothing to do with me. It made her push me away. Zoë moves at ludicrous speed, so at least she gets over shit quick. But Roxy's different—less decisive. She takes her time. I'm sure you know that by now."

  I looked up at her window. I did know that.

  We fist-bumped and he climbed into his car. I watched it disappear down the street. The more I thought about what he’d said, the more I realized he had to be right. Hadn't Roxy and I bonded over our taste in maudlin music? Hadn't what drew me to her always been the knowledge of a certain darkness we shared? This girl had demons, and I'd triggered something big. I only hoped she'd take me back and one day I'd find out what.

  "Are you sure she's worth it?" Annika asked without preamble, settling next to me on the step.

  By the time she came, the sun was setting and I was a few hours shy of twenty-four.

  I nodded with conviction. "She's like us, but she's not like us. She's been hurt and abandoned before. And she doesn't have what we have, Annika. It's just her and her dad. Before me, Zoë was her only real friend."

  She nodded in a way that I knew meant she understood. Annika knew what it was to be alone.

  "All I care about is that she doesn't hurt and abandon you."

  I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed.

  "I know."

  I was forced to leave Roxy's against my will. Though Mr. Vega had become sympathetic to my cause, I'd slept at his house for two nights with no success. Beyond that, I was still a teenage boy trying to get close to his daughter, so it was no surprise he’d given me the boot.

  Now I was in school, and I was miserable. Roxy wasn’t here. My classes moved too slowly and my obsessive Instagram stalking didn't help pass the time. By then, I'd let go of absurd fantasies of a happy reunion. I just wanted to know my girl was okay.

  By lunchtime, I had received no such comfort. Even worse, I'd had to endure what seemed like dozens of imbecilic updates. Dutton posted a “Looks like someone’s got a case of the Mondays” meme. Olivia Bush sent out a post reminding folks to vote for a theme for Jr. Prom—a prom I’d been building up to ask Roxy to before I’d screwed up. I briefly considered unfriending every single person I knew except for Roxy. But if I did that, I couldn't troll their walls. Professional Instagram stalker that I was, I couldn't pass up the chance to spy on her through her friends. Speaking of things inquiring minds had no right to know…

  "Dude, I heard you and Roxy broke up."

  What the fuck?

  Glaring up at the voice that had interrupted me from Instagram, I came face to face with Dan Wesley. I didn't know why he was talking to me about my girl but I knew immediately I didn't like it.

  "What?" I snapped.

  He seemed oblivious to my tone.

  "I heard you tapped that ass! I know she plays all innocent, but—" he looked around conspiratorially before lowering his voice and leaning in, "—man to man, does she like it rough?"

  I was up in a second. And a second after that, his neck was in my hand. Three seconds after that I'd strode us both across the room and pinned him to the nearest wall.

  "What the fuck did you just say about my girlfriend?"

  That I had never been in a fight did not stop me from drilling my fist into his face. Once was not enough, apparently. At least that's what I was told later. I'd been so blind with rage, I remembered almost nothing, even after I’d been pulled off. At some point, I realized I was being shaken. Looking up, I saw the concerned face of my dad.

  Seeing beyond where he was crouched in front of me, I realized where I was sitting: with my back against the brick wall of the cafeteria. I dimly wondered how long I'd been there. Then I wondered how long my dad had been there.

  "Does it hurt?"

  I shook my head, because it didn't. I was numb, and not from the cold.

  "C'mon." He jutted his chin toward the visitor parking lot. "I'll take you home."

  He helped me up, brushed me off a little, and clapped his hand on my shoulder. A minute later, we were speeding toward my house. For the first time since Sa
turday, my mind was quiet, almost like I wasn't even there. The warmth of the seat heat opposed the cool window against my temple. The hum of the engine gave me a foreign sense of peace. The color of the evergreens as we whipped past them was beautiful. I felt as if I could go to sleep.

  "They gave you a three-day suspension for fighting in school." His voice was calm. "You know, you broke Dan Wesley's nose.”

  Because the suspension didn't surprise me and I felt no remorse, I kept staring out the window and said nothing.

  "Do you know what he said?" I asked my dad minutes later as we sat silently in the car. The Mercedes was in the garage, the engine was cut and I hadn't moved an inch. "He asked when he could fuck Roxy now that I was done with her and wanted to know whether she liked it rough."

  The next thing out of my dad’s mouth reminded me why I loved him so much.

  "Sounds like he had it coming."

  Twenty-Four

  Apologize

  I'm holdin' on a rope,

  got me ten feet off the ground.

  I'm hearing what you say

  but I just can't make a sound.

  -One Republic, Apologize

  Roxy

  "Da-aad," I whined as I felt the nudge on my shoulder, "Lemme sleep. I'm still not up to going to school."

  I buried my head under the pillow and pulled the covers up, but the nudging didn't stop.

  "I'm serious, Dad," I groused irritably, wishing he would continue to let me wallow. "I got my period last night and my cramps are really bad."

  Menstrual talk was like kryptonite to him. But if I didn't play my trump card, he’d make me go to school.

  “Your dad left for work five minutes ago, Roxy, which means he's not here to protect you from me."

  Second on the list of people I wasn't ready to face was Zoë.