Unmovable

by Richard P Rigoli

  “Yeah, he’s really annoying,” she said instead. “About five feet six and drives a blue Charger.”

  “That’s just mean,” he said after a moment. “I really was worried.”

  “Okay,” she said, taking a breath, and coming down the steps to meet him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, but you need to stop trying to push me.”

  “Amber, you don’t know what’s going on,” Rai said pleadingly. “What happened at Kendra’s house was big.”

  “You’re not listening to me at all,” Amber snarled. “I’m tired of repeating myself. Don’t come here again. Delete my number.”

  “But…” he stammered.

  “No,” she said, forcing herself to keep eye contact despite the disturbing blue glimmer she could see around him. “I told you where I stand, but you keep pushing me. Go away, Rai.”

  4

  LAND

  After Rai left, Amber walked along the fence that marked off the new property line between their home and former farmland. She hated the new fence and what it represented, but she began to accept it—a little.

  Amber left her boots on the porch and enjoyed the feel of the dry grass and earth beneath her bare feet. The moon was the only light in the sky at this point, and her father would be upset at her for walking the fields with nothing to protect her legs but a knee-length skirt.

  It wasn’t as if Amber didn’t know there were snakes, scorpions, or other potentially dangerous crawly things around. There were plenty of them on the property. But she had some sort of an unspoken agreement with them—she didn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother her.

  Amber was doing her best to think about anything but Rai, and it proved difficult. He had looked hurt, and she was sympathetic enough to realize he had information that he truly thought she should know. Her sympathy had limits, and he had tested it one too many times.

  Rai was so infuriating, always flying around excitedly from place to place and topic to topic. Having a conversation with him was like having ten televisions on at the same time. Despite that fact, his personality was the polar-opposite of hers, she couldn’t honestly bring herself to dislike him. He was too nice for that.

  As Amber pondered, she passed the spot where the old tractor sat. It was ancient—back when her grandfather was still young—and hadn’t run in years. She had many happy memories of playing on it with her cousins though it rusted like a piece of lawn art in the years since. She felt an uneasiness in her stomach as she drew near the tractor. It was an odd queasy feeling like being anxious about something, and she didn’t like it.

  There was a wide ring of dead grass surrounding the old machine and a patch of darkness deeper than shadow under the front of it. The oil pan must have finally rusted out completely and dumped its contents into the soil. It didn’t have any detectable odor as far as Amber could tell, so she didn’t know why it should be making her feel sick. Without thought, almost instinctively, she crouched down and pressed a fingertip to the edge of the inky spill. Amber’s stomach lurched, and for a moment, she felt her dinner trying to come back up. She clenched the ground in her hand to steady herself, and the nausea began to pass, replaced by an odd tingling sensation in her fingers and toes. She got back to her feet, feeling a little dizzy. She decided to wash the oily mess from her hand and then go lay down for the night. If she was coming down with something, it was best to get some rest.

  ***

  Amber got up before dawn the next morning. Her stomach growled as if she hadn’t eaten in days. The smell of frying bacon and coffee teased her senses like a siren’s call, leading her down the hallway to the kitchen. The farmer upbringing still had her father starting his day early even in retirement.

  “You went to bed pretty early last night,” he greeted. Fully dressed for the day, her father wore his typical uniform of worn jeans, thick boots, and long-sleeved flannel shirt. His ensemble currently included one of her mother’s aprons. A generous plate of eggs, home fries, buttered toast, and sizzling bacon was set down before her. “You were sound asleep when your mom and I got in.”

  “Yeah, I was drained last night, Dad,” Amber replied before scooping up some egg on a wedge of toast and devouring it. Her father busied himself filling his plate.

  “Are you feeling okay, Darlin’?” her father asked as he sat down across the breakfast table from her. He had a concerned expression on his face that was confusing to Amber until she glanced down at her plate. She hardly remembered eating anything beyond that first bite, but other than some scattered remnants of egg yolk, her plate was empty.

  “Um…” she muttered in an uneasy tone. “I’m sorry, Dad. I think I might be getting over a bug or something from last night.”

  “Is that why you were sacked out so early?” he asked, tucking into his own breakfast.

  “Yeah, I went for a walk last night and found a nasty oil leak under the old tractor,” Amber replied. “I felt kind of sick after that and went to bed.”

  “Feeling better now?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Did you want some more?” Her dad asked, looking amused.

  “Maybe some potatoes,” she replied tentatively.

  “Just potatoes?” His expression was now a mixture of amused and smug.

  “Maybe some eggs, too,” Amber amended, sticking out a petulant tongue.

  “But there’s bacon,” he said in mock outrage. “Bacon!”

  “Just a little bacon,” she laughed.

  “More bacon for me then,” her father barked a laugh. She always liked when he laughed, especially when she was the cause. They finished their food, and Amber helped clean up as the sun rose over the low hills outside the window. “There was another college letter in the mail yesterday for you,” he said, trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant.

  “I saw,” she replied as she set the last dish into the drying rack.

  “This one looked fancy.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “Are you going to read it?” he pressed, and she began to feel annoyed.

  “Probably.”

  “You should at least think about school, Amber,” he continued, “have some idea about what you’re going to do with your life.” She inhaled and tried not to get mad. This was going to turn into that conversation again.

  “I do think about school, Dad.” She looked at him and frowned. “You make it hard not to.”

  “You’ve been getting letters from schools for months. Good colleges! Have you opened any of them?”

  “Some of them,” she muttered, looking at the floor.

  “Don’t you lie to me, Girl.” Her father shook his finger at her. “I always know when you are. Why are you diggin’ in like this? Against school, of all things?”

  “I’m not against school, Dad,” she said. “I just want to work local until I figure out what I want to do.”

  “If you don’t get an education, you’ll be busting your back for pennies, Darlin',” he said. “I just want better for you, that’s all.”

  “I know, Daddy.” Amber reached across and squeezed his hand, letting her annoyance fade away. “When I figure out what I want, I’ll get the schooling to help get me there. Promise.”

  ***

  Around mid-morning, Amber followed her father across the field behind their house. He had added a ball cap to his uniform and pushed a wheelbarrow that had a burlap sack of fresh soil in it. Amber trotted behind, carrying a pair of full shovels over her shoulder. She had put on her western-style straw hat before heading outside, but the day was becoming overcast, and the protective head-cover hardly seemed necessary.

  The plan was to dig up the oil spill out in the meadow and refill the hole with “clean” dirt before noon. After finishing her regular chores, Amber chose to help out with the cleanup instead of spending the morning turning in more applications. She had a good feeling about her chances of being hired at the Cypress and figured she could take a short break from the job hunting. Maybe she was being over
ly optimistic but decided if she didn’t hear anything by the weekend, she’d get back out and start looking again.

  “That’s just odd,” her father commented, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Someone already cleared it out.”

  “What?” Amber asked, catching up and looking for herself. It was true. The area under the tractor now appeared clean. Scattered blades of yellow grass were still scattered about, but the earth where the slick had been, and several feet surrounding the area, was freshly churned and oil-free.

  Her father knelt at the edge and scooped up a handful of the loose dark soil. He sifted it in his fingers and examined the dirt, even taking a moment to smell it before dusting off his hands and turning to her.

  “High-grade stuff,” he said with a thoughtful expression. “If I had to guess, I’d say this was enriched topsoil, maybe even volcanic.”

  “It was sticky old oil there last night. I swear!”

  “I’m not doubting you, Darlin', and I’m going to assume you didn’t sleepwalk out here and replace all this in the middle of the night either.” Amber shook her head in answer. She didn’t know what to say. “So, the hundred-dollar question is why would anyone sneak out here to clean up this spill with overpriced dirt? Heck, who would even know it needed clearing?” Amber frowned thoughtfully at that statement. Actually, she did have an idea of someone who might do something like this.

  5

  NEW EARTH

  “Rai, this is Amber again. Call me back.” She slumped into a chair on the porch and made a face at her phone as she closed the call. Her mom and dad were out again enjoying themselves, but she wasn’t. She didn’t know what Rai’s game was. Why would he clean her yard and then ignore her calls? He obviously did it to try to mend things with her. He would have had to follow her around for hours to even know about the spill. Doesn’t he realize how creepy that is? Her phone rang and startled her from her thoughts. It was an unknown number, but she tapped the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

  “‘Lo,” said the voice on the phone. It wasn’t Rai. “This Amber?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Hey, girl. It’s Conner. You know, from school?” he said.

  “Hello, Conner.” She did remember him. He was in half of her classes last year. His breath smelled like green Jolly Ranchers. She knew this because he was one of those people that always leaned in too close when talking. She hadn’t been able to eat those candies since. “How did you get my number?” she asked.

  “You put it in my yearbook,” he said. She hadn’t, she was very sure about that. “I was just looking it over, and you wrote, ‘keep in touch.'” She may have been guilty of doing that. She had jotted down “K.I.T.” on nearly every yearbook handed to her before school ended. She’d put a cute little heart as the dot over the “I” on most of them, too. There was no way she did that on Conner Conners’ signature page. “So, this is me ‘keeping in touch.’ I hadn’t noticed the hidden message you left me until now.”

  “What hidden message?” she asked. No, I didn’t. Tell me I didn’t.

  “All the little hearts, babe,” he replied, and her face heated. She stared at the phone in silent disbelief for a moment. I did. I freaking did. I must have gotten his book confused with someone else’s book! “Why didn’t you just tell me you were into me? I would have called you way sooner.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” She wasn’t the least bit interested in Conner, but she didn’t want to be mean either. This was all just a big mistake. “I meant to write something else.”

  “You don’t have to explain. I understand completely.”

  “You do?” she asked, hopefully.

  “Oh, yeah. There wasn’t enough room on the page to put everything down that you wanted to tell me, but that’s cool. Come pick me up, and you can tell me in person.”

  This was turning into a train wreck. She was going to have to be painfully direct with the guy. Another call rang in, and she pulled the phone back to look. Finally, it was Rai.

  “I have another call I have to take, sorry!” she thankfully poked the screen to answer the other call. “Rai?”

  “Yeah, it's me. I’m surprised to hear from you,” Rai said. He sounded like he’d been running. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “Yeah, I’m still mad,” she admitted. “But I have to ask you something, and you need to be straight with me.”

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Were you over here last night?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Why were you creeping around after I told you off?”

  “Hey, wait. What?” Rai sounded confused.

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” She was angry now. “I know you probably think you were doing something nice, but there are boundaries.”

  “Okay, backup a tick,” he said. “I went to your place last night, yeah. You saw me and chewed me out. Then I left. Other than a really greasy cheeseburger later, that was my night.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked in a less angry and more worried tone. “You didn’t come back and dig up my yard?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Someone dug up an oil spill in my yard last night and replaced all the dirt,” she said in a quiet voice as she rushed inside the house and locked the door. “I assumed it was you trying to make me less mad.”

  “Wasn’t me. I swear.”

  “Okay, now I’m worried,” Amber admitted. “You better not be messing with me.”

  “I’m not. The only thing I know what to do with spilled oil is dump cat litter on it.” He sounded sincere, and that worried her more. If Rai hadn’t cleaned up all that oil, who had? It was a lot of trouble to go to for a dumb prank. “If you’re worried, I can come over. I do have super powers, you know.” For a moment, she was tempted. The idea of some unknown person roaming around the property was unsettling.

  “No, I’ll be okay,” she said instead.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, thanks anyway.” Amber closed the call and made a circuit of the living room, turning on most of the lights. She was a little anxious but only a little. She would much rather spend the rest of the evening feeling a bit uncomfortable than sit through Rai going on about magical mutant-whatever powers and feeling very uncomfortable.

  “‘Lo?” came a small voice from her phone on the arm of the couch. “Babe, you there?”

  “Perfect,” she muttered sarcastically. Conner was still on the line.

  ***

  The next morning Amber woke up late and felt famished again. The endless conversation with Conner the night before hadn’t gone well. There was an upside to it though. By the time Amber had convinced Conner Conners that she wasn’t secretly in love with him, she had nearly forgotten about the mysterious oil-cleaner-upper. She had felt so tired by that point that she shut off her cell and crawled into bed.

  The sun was already up somewhere behind heavy cloud cover as she made her way to the kitchen. No large home-cooked breakfast waited for her today, though.

  It didn’t look like any breakfast preparation happened at all. The single dish she used last night was still on the rack. Her father sleeping in was not a common occurrence, so she grabbed a slice of cheese from the refrigerator to settle her protesting stomach and peeked into her parent’s room. The door was open, and the bed still made. It looked like they never came home.

  Amber went back to her room to check her phone and found three messages. The first one was from her mother. They must have had a very good time in Austin last night since they decided to stay at a hotel.

  The second message was from Rai checking and worrying about her. He was frustrating to her. She liked him a lot and didn’t even mind his nerdiness. When Rai had asked her to the prom, Amber thought he liked her, too. He didn’t, at least, not in the same way she liked him. Being “friend-zoned” that night was upsetting enough, but after the drama
with Kendra, Amber drove herself home while Rai ran off to the Radcliff house. She’d cried herself to sleep that night and managed to keep those feelings, mostly, in check ever since. It would be so much easier if he wasn't so darn nice all the time!

  The third message was from Conner. Amber listened to the first thirty seconds of it. He was serenading her with an old Lionel Richie song. Was he serious? The phone rang as her finger hovered over the “delete” button. The caller ID read: Cypress Cafe.

  Amber excitedly tapped the screen—and declined the call. “No!” she screamed as the call vanished and Conner’s singing message resumed.

  Amber resisted the urge to throw the phone down and stomp on it repeatedly. Instead, she deleted the voicemail and called the Cypress back. There was a busy signal. She tried again with the same results and muttered a word that would have earned her a lecture from her father. Amber had fumed for a moment before a new voicemail notice appeared. With the exaggerated care of someone attempting to defuse a bomb, she selected the new message and opened it.

  “Hello, Amber. This is Kathleen from the Cypress Cafe. I was hoping you were available for a follow-up this Friday at eleven o’clock. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Thank you.”

  6

  WAITING

  The apron was a little snug, but it was only a temporary one. Amber’s mother had been right about her chances with Cypress. The follow-up interview evolved quickly into orientation. It meant more changes, but this was one that Amber excitedly wanted. Since Kathleen preferred to hire locals, Amber already knew most of her co-workers.

  For tonight, she was supposed to shadow Lianne, one of the other servers, to observe and assist. She had done so for an hour, when with Kathleen’s blessing, she was cut loose to take orders and serve on her own.

  Friday nights were the busiest time at the Cypress Cafe, but unlike the fast food places she had applied to, the customers were encouraged to stay and take their time. She liked the whole relaxed attitude and enjoyed her new job so far.