A Place Without you

by Jewel E. Ann

  “The fence to the north needs to be repaired.”

  “I repaired it yesterday.”

  He hisses, adjusting in his wheelchair. I don’t know what to do or what to say. Every offer I make to help him is met with “I’m fine.”

  “You should get out, Bodhi. You never date.”

  This is true. But I do occasionally use a website for a quick hookup. It’s not how I ever imagined meeting my sexual needs, but I also never imagined my father being confined to a wheelchair and the responsibilities of the ranch landing on me.

  “I’m good.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I ignore him. He likes to bait me, get me riled up. My father isn’t simply confined to a wheelchair … he’s battling cancer. And on the not-so-good days, he deals with depression and suicidal thoughts.

  “We should eat out on the porch. Have you had any fresh air today?”

  “I smoked some weed out there for ten minutes. Does that count?”

  “Sure.” I sigh, keeping my back to him as my hands pause from chopping lettuce. Closing my eyes, I go to the place in my head that brings a sliver of joy to my existence—Henna.

  Bodhi and Henna.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Henna

  “GOOD MORNING. YOU were asleep by the time I arrived home last night. I hate that I missed your birthday. I get the Worst Mom Ever award. My flight got delayed because of weather.” Juni kisses me on the head as I poke at my plate of eggs and toast. “What brings you to the main house this morning? You’re not usually a breakfast person.” She sits next to me as Fiona brings her a cup of coffee.

  I live in the upstairs of the guest house on the Phillip’s estate—Zachary Isaac Phillips, ZIP Tunes. It’s smaller, like an apartment, and it gives me a sense of autonomy since my closest friends are at college while I turn nineteen and still have to finish my senior year.

  “Bodhi is Mr. Malone.”

  She sips her coffee. “I’m not following. Bodhi from Coachella? Bodhi who spent the summer tattooed to various parts of your body?” She smirks.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

  “And who is Mr. Malone?”

  Tapping my fork on my lower lip, I cringe a bit. “My new guidance counselor.”

  Juni’s eyebrows jump up her forehead. “Are you serious?”

  I nod.

  “Oh my God, Henna! You had sex with your guidance counselor?”

  “No! Why do you refuse to believe me? I haven’t had sex with anyone. At least…” I rub my lips together “…I haven’t had intercourse.”

  I’m a virgin, but not a saint.

  Juni studies me. It’s not that I don’t get it. A lot of girls my age are not virgins.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then I have to recommend that you not have sex with Bodhi. Find another nice boy.”

  Only my mom advocates for her teenage daughter to lose her virginity. Even if I don’t take heed of her advice, I find it really cool that when the day does come, I can tell her all about my first time without feeling an ounce of guilt.

  “I don’t want to have sex with another nice boy.”

  “Henna …” She shakes her head. “He could get fired, and not just fired, it could ruin his whole career. You’re a bit of a hellion, just like I was at your age, but you’ve also been raised to care about people.”

  “It’s only an issue if we get caught.”

  “Henna …”

  I drop my fork and grab my bag. “I know. I know. I’ll behave.”

  “Do you need John to drop you off at school?”

  “I’ll walk. It’s only a mile.”

  “It’s almost a mile to get off our property.”

  “Fine, it’s two miles.”

  “You’ll be late.”

  I head to the door. “It’s just calculus. I highly doubt I’ll ever use it.”

  “But you need to pass.”

  “Bye, Juni.”

  I make it to school with ten minutes left in calculus—a stellar start to my senior year. The pot cookie I had this morning doesn’t help me give a shit about my day or my whole year for that matter.

  “I got a study hall pass to come visit you.” I hold up my pass as Bodhi looks up from his desk.

  “Schedule issues?”

  Stepping inside, I close the door and drop my backpack onto one of the two chairs in front of his desk while I take a seat in the other chair and pluck my earbuds out of my ears. “This is a nice office.” I smile on a contented sigh. “I’ve been in here…” I twist my lips “…a lot. But I see you repainted it.”

  “No. I didn’t repaint it.”

  “No?” I move my attention to Bodhi. He looks so handsome in his gray button-down and black tie. I grin, almost giggle. Why? Well, I’m a tiny bit high.

  “Your eyes are a little bloodshot.”

  “Yours are sexy.” I grin, sinking down into the chair a little more and pulling out my sketch pad and pencils. “Surfer and cowboy sexy. Are you wearing boots?”

  “Are you high, Henna?”

  “It’s Colorado. Everyone’s a mile high.” I continue working on a sketch I started several days ago.

  He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You could get expelled.”

  I nod slowly, shifting my focus to the paperweight on his desk. Do people really use paperweights? I always think of them as unsuspecting weapons in murder mysteries.

  “Is that what you want? To get expelled?”

  On a laugh, I shrug. “I don’t care. But they won’t expel me. It’s my last year. I’m the bane of Gail’s existence. She wants me out of here, but for good, not so I fail and have to come back yet another year. God …” I rest my head on the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling. I feel certain someone painted it as well. “I’m so sick of this place. There’s a whole big world out there and I’m stuck here.”

  “You should go home.”

  “Home? Nah … I’m good. I have automotive class. Lots of guys want to look under my hood.” I tip my head forward to watch Bodhi’s reaction.

  The only part of him that reacts is the slight muscle twitch of his jaw. I think … Yeah, I’m definitely a wee bit high. It’s the best state of mind for handling my senior year.

  “I read about your accident. I’m very sorry about your friend.”

  Blinking at an extremely slow pace, I let my mind play with his confession. He read about me. Was that in a file? Or did he search up things about me? Do I care? Not at the moment. My breakfast cookie made sure of that. “Robbie was the daughter of one of Zachary’s friends.”

  “Your stepfather?”

  I nod, gaze unfocused on Bodhi’s desk. It’s a bit messy.

  “Our birthdays were in the same month, so our dads arranged for us to go to a concert in L.A. A sweet sixteen gift. An unchaperoned concert. Sort of. Zachary seems to always have eyes on me.”

  “We don’t have to talk about this. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am. The anniversary of that day is this Friday. If you need to talk …”

  “Nope.” I prop my feet up on his desk, filling in more details on my sketch. “Not about that anyway. Tell me about your summer?”

  “Henna—”

  “Mine was crrraaazy. As you know, we went to Italy, then Monaco. I spent two weeks on a yacht. Parasailing, snorkeling, oh … and I made out with a guy. He might have been related to a prince or something. I don’t remember. But he wasn’t a good kisser like you. And the food was just meh. Lots of fish. I managed to score a pizza on shore from this little hole-in-the-wall place up the street from the church where Grace Kelly got married.”

  I exhale slowly, feeling calm and snarky at the same time—an interesting state I’m not sure I’ve been in before. “How about you, Mr. Malone? Did you make out with someone this summer? Was she a better kisser than I am?”

  “Where are your keys? You need to go home, but you can’t drive.”

  I giggle. “You are right about that. I can’t drive. A—I do
n’t have keys because B—I don’t have a car because D or um … C—I don’t have a driver’s license. I like to walk. Sometimes I bike. Sometimes I …” I stare at his tie. “I bet you hate that tie. You’re not a tie person. No one who owns cowboy boots likes to wear a tie. Surfers don’t either. Which …” I hold up my finger.

  “I’ll call your mom. Will that get you in trouble? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “Oh, that’s really sweet that you care if I get in trouble. That’s what made us so great. Henna and Bodhi.”

  “I can tell her you have a stomach ache.”

  I laugh. “She knows about the pot. She’s the one who gets it for me. I don’t have a stomach ache, but I’m really hungry. Whatcha got in your desk drawers? Chips? California veggie rolls?”

  “Henna—”

  “Did you like it?”

  His eyes narrow.

  “Did you like kissing me? Did you like holding my hand? Holding me in your arms? Did you like us? I liked us … so much.” I change my mind. That cookie didn’t do shit for the pain today. Thinking of us makes me hurt all over, just like the regret I see on Bodhi’s face.

  I’m ready for a nap and chips. I really want chips. They’d be much better than his sour face. Maybe he’s sucking on a lemon drop. God … I can taste the lemon in his mouth, the warmth of his breath, and the slide of his tongue.

  He moves around the desk in front of me, leaning back on it, hands resting on either side of him. “Yes.”

  “Yes,” I whisper, repeating his answer but not remembering the question.

  “Yes, I liked us. Too much. Too soon. Too hard to explain, but yes … I liked every second with you. But …”

  “Now we’re forbidden.” I scoot to the edge of my chair and look up at him. “Forbidden is thrilling.” I set my sketch pad and pencils on my lap and rest my hands on his legs.

  He shakes his head, stopping the ascent of my hands with his hands. “Forbidden can ruin my life more than it’s already been ruined.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It’s a year, not even a year. They can’t say anything if I’m no longer a student. You can travel the world with me. I want to step foot on every continent and immerse myself in as many different cultures as possible, learn different languages, and see life through a wider lens. And I want to do this before I go to college—if I go to college—or get married or have kids. We could do it together. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  Bodhi’s wince softens into a tiny smile. “It would be amazing. But it’s not an option for me. Not in this life.”

  “Why?”

  There’s a knock at the door. Bodhi stands to his full height and straightens his tie as he walks to the door.

  “Mr. Malone, can you—” Gail pauses. “Henna.”

  Bodhi clears his throat. “Henna and I were just talking about—”

  “The accident.” Gail frowns. “I’m sorry. I know this Friday will make three years. I’m truly sorry, Henna. Has Mr. Malone been helpful? I don’t want to see you spiral downhill this year. We are here for you if you need help in any way.”

  I need Bodhi’s lips on mine and his hands holding the weight of my breasts while his tongue flicks my nipples. I need his arms around me and his soft whisper in my ear calling me beautiful.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a bag of chips, would you?”

  Her eyes narrow as Bodhi stifles a tiny laugh as a cough.

  “No. Sorry.”

  “No problem. Someone in my automotive class will have some.”

  “Why are you in an automotive class?” she asks.

  “Hot guys. Need I say more?”

  Gail rolls her eyes. Bodhi doesn’t share her response. His subtle reaction involves muscle twitching and teeth grinding.

  Gail sighs, never happy with my response, never happy with my total lack of interest in school. “Are you feeling okay? If not, you should go home.”

  She knows I’m high, just like she knows my stepfather’s name is on the new gymnasium. The two facts are always at conflict. I don’t care. I should, but I don’t. There are too many days that I have no interest in graduating or doing what it takes to get the diploma. I want the world, my freedom, and a break from expectations.

  Expulsion would be a gift.

  “I’m good. Hungry but good.”

  Gail adjusts her black-haired bun and pushes her white-framed glasses up her nose while sharing a look with Bodhi. “You should get back to class, Henna. Mr. Malone has other students.”

  “I have fifteen minutes left of study hall.” I lean back in the chair again. “And no one else has knocked on Mr. Malone’s door except you.”

  Gail purses her lips.

  “Dr. Rafferty, I have a few things to finish discussing with Henna. I’ll make sure she’s not late to class.” Bodhi to the rescue.

  I try and fail to not grin. And seriously … Dr. Rafferty? Is she really worthy of such respect?

  “Thank you, Mr. Malone. Please come see me when you have a few spare minutes.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She exits his office, making sure to leave his door wide open.

  “Mr. Malone … Dr. Rafferty.” I snort. “Why do humans feel the need to be so damn formal? We all shit, fart, burp, and pick our noses. I’m sure even Dr. Rafferty has lost at least partial inhibition in the throes of sex. Do you think her husband says, ‘Dr. Rafferty, I’m about to come’?”

  Bodhi takes a seat behind his desk again, twisting his lips to restrain his amusement. “Respect isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  “I would respect her more if she didn’t get such a stick-up-her-ass expression every time I call her Gail. Respect can be honored without the formalities. I just don’t like it when people need holes in their ego filled with stupid shit like Dr. Rafferty.”

  Bodhi returns a soft expression, but he doesn’t say anything. Minutes pass as we sit in silence, and I respect him for that. He’s not condescending or trying to fix my problems. He doesn’t lecture me or rush me into sharing my feelings.

  “I miss us. I know it’s stupid because it was two days.” I lower my voice, staring at his chest over my sketch pad because I don’t want to see pity in his eyes. “It was just…” I try to focus on my thoughts that want to fade into other random thoughts “…something really powerful I felt. You probably think I’m young and impulsive. You probably think it was a crush. I’m sure you have a million girls with crushes on you, but it didn’t feel like a crush. It felt …”

  “It felt what?” he whispers with the vulnerability of the Bodhi that held me in his arms on the sofa at Lauren’s house.

  I let my gaze inch up to his. “Vital. Like that feeling would own a piece of me forever. Like that feeling would never go away. Never fade. Like my existence suddenly depended on having that feeling, like a pulse—a breath.”

  He nods slowly for several long moments. “I need this job,” he says like the most heartbreaking confession.

  I think I just fell in love with Bodhi Malone. “I need this job” is his painful reality as to why we can’t be together. “I need this job” says he wants to be with me, but he needs to be employed. “I need this job” says it all, and it hurts so badly because I selfishly want our needs to only be each other.

  “I have class. Thank you, Mr. Malone.” Standing, I grab my bag, wait until my balance gives me solid footing, and leave his office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR WEEKS, I work on weaning myself off the weed, but it’s not so easy. I’ve tried it a million times before, but the pain is real. My injury is real. The budding grownup inside of me wants to impress Bodhi with my ability to stay in school and not be high all the time. I manage to hold off until after lunch, making it through my hardest classes and my first study hall, in which I spend most of it in Mr. Malone’s office. We don’t say anything. I do homework or sketch something while he works on his computer, usually with earbuds in his ear
s.

  “Warren asked me to homecoming.”

  Bodhi glances up, removing his ear buds. “What?”

  “Homecoming. Warren Adams asked me to be his date.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” I scrape my teeth along my bottom lip.

  “You said yes?”

  I nod.

  “Warren is a nice guy. Good call.”

  “You’ve known him for like three or four weeks. How can you say he’s a nice guy?”

  Bodhi shrugs, returning his attention to the computer screen. “Good grades. Nice parents. Nothing on his record shows that he’s had issues in school. And he’s your school’s best running back. I’ve heard rumors that he could get a full-ride scholarship to play for UCLA.”

  “Yay, Warren.” I give Bodhi a toothy grin when he makes a quick glance up at me. “Let’s back up. What does my record say? Would you tell Warren I’m a good call?”

  “No way. I’d tell the poor guy to use his running skills and never look back.”

  “You’re an ass, Mr. Malone.”

  “You should show me more respect, Miss Lane.”

  I open a can of ginger ale and gulp half of it down. “Yeah, well, you should work a little harder to earn my respect.” I burp the most unladylike burp.

  “Noted.”

  “You seeing anyone? I heard the volleyball coach has been eyeing you. She’s nice enough, but I also heard she’s been engaged twice but never married. Clearly there’s an issue.”

  He meets my gaze. “I heard you took an actual typewriter to your history class last year to take notes, causing all sorts of distraction with its noise.”

  “My laptop’s battery was dead.”

  “Take notes on your cell phone.”

  “I didn’t have one. I just got my first cell phone this past Christmas.”

  Bodhi squints at me.

  “True story. I rejected technology for a while.” Okay, I had it withheld from me, but I like to make it seem like it was my choice.

  “I heard you took an abacus to trigonometry last year for your semester test.”

  I smirk. “You sure have heard a lot of things about me. How thick is my file?”

  “I have four filing cabinets for the senior class. One is just yours. If you get held back another year, the school will have to build an addition—the Hell wing.”