“We also got arrested,” she adds, “a few nights ago in Texas. I picked up a wanted felon and offered him a ride.”
Everyone laughs out loud at this and I look around with surprise. No one believes her. Dylan meets my eyes and she shrugs like she’s used to it. She told me once that I’m the only person who understands her, who asks to see her pictures and listens to her stories. I didn’t believe it when she told me; I figured everyone appreciated her like I do. But she was telling me the truth. Dylan doesn’t need to exaggerate or embellish. She lives all her crazy thoughts out loud.
Her mom’s eyes brighten. “Well, I’m so happy you two got back together.” She looks between Dylan and me and waits for one of us to confirm her statement. We’re both silent. I’m waiting for Dylan to talk first.
“You are back together?” her mom asks. I can feel everyone looking at me.
“We drove here together,” I offer. Dylan looks down at the ground.
A confused crease appears in the middle of her mom’s forehead. I start to smile. Dylan’s actions are probably the direct cause of that wrinkle line.
“Wait a second,” her mom says. “Orson died on the highway, and Gray just happened to be there, in Omaha, to offer you a ride?”
“Technically his girlfriend offered me a ride,” Dylan says.
“My fictional girlfriend,” I clarify.
“What?” her mom asks.
“It’s a long story,” Dylan finishes.
“It always is with you,” her dad says.
I’m afraid to look at Dylan. I look at the balloons instead. There’s no way to explain our situation. I feel like we’re breaking up again, but when did we ever get back together?
“I’m really confused,” Serena says.
I stare at her. You’re confused?
“Are you two waiting for an even bigger sign that you’re meant to be together?” Serena asks. “Do you need a meteor to drop out of the sky saying GET MARRIED on it and land at your feet?”
Probably.
“Our relationship usually falls under the heading of Crappy Timing,’” I explain.
The room is quiet. Even Luke appears to be interested in the outcome of our conversation. Dylan’s mom sighs and she gives up on the topic.
“Well, Gram and Pop are at the hotel,” she says.
“You brought Grandma and Grandpa out here?” Serena moans.
“We had to. It’s their first great grandchild. Your aunt’s on her way too, with your cousins. They’ll get in tonight.”
“This is exactly why I ran away,” Serena states. “Does everything have to be a family event?”
“Yes,” Dylan and her mom say at the same time. I can see why Dylan left after high school. She needed to stretch out, and she couldn’t do that at home. Serena starts talking wedding plans with Dylan and her mom.
Dylan’s dad walks over to me and extends his hand. “I’m Dean,” he says. “Nice to finally meet you.”
I nod and shake his hand.
“I’ve been reading Baseball Weekly this summer, keeping tabs on you. Your name was all over the place. I heard the Dodgers are interested?”
I nod. “My agent’s going back and forth with them,” I say. “I’m not sure if I want to sign or play another year at school. Their offer would have to be pretty good.”
The baby suddenly interrupts us with a hungry wail. Everyone in the room sucks in a breath and lets it out with an “awww,” and it’s amazing what you find yourself able to love.
I excuse myself so Serena can nurse and her family can talk wedding details. An edge of jealousy sets in and I don’t want to hear about their happily ever after, how all their mistakes turned into a victory. Most of my victories turn out to be mistakes. Thanks a lot, Fate.
I walk slowly to the elevator. I’m still wondering why I ran into Dylan in Omaha. Serena’s right. Do we need an even bigger sign that we’re meant to be together?
I have about a week of sleep to catch up on and my feet drag down the hallway. I could use a nap before I hit the road. I head down to the lobby and I’m greeted by the noise of footsteps and voices and overhead announcements. I look around at all the people sitting and waiting, like we’re in a strange airport going nowhere.
I sit in the lobby and watch people coming and going. I watch people walking in with balloons and flowers, with smiles and excitement. Other people walk in looking anxious and forlorn. It is the most emotionally charged place on earth.
I close my eyes and lean back in the seat. The last time I was in a hospital was the night of my sister’s death. I haven’t stepped inside one since. Walking in the emergency room doors was like pushing my way through a brick wall. I was afraid I was going to walk right into Amanda’s ghost.
My brain is a myriad of thoughts that refuse to have ending points, just jumbles and knots and loose strings. I need answers.
I keep replaying Mike’s proposal to Serena. How perfect it all was. How she was nodding before he even finished asking. How much I would give for Dylan to react that way to me.
I sigh and open my eyes. They’re so dry they burn. I want to leave and drive around or walk or run until my knees give out. I grab my cell phone out of my pocket and there’s a text from Lenny. A text. Wow. She must really be worried about me. I read the message.
I’m worried about you. Did you work things out with Dylan?
I call her number and after a few rings, Lenny picks up.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
The concern in her voice makes my throat knot. I swallow because I can’t lie to Lenny.
“I’m messed up,” I say and run a hand over my head. My thoughts feel heavy, like rocks. Is love just an illusion, a mean trick that life plays on you? It diffracts your world into brilliant colors but is it ever constant? Is there a way to make it permanent?
“I don’t care about baseball,” I hear myself say.
“Gray, don’t be stupid. You’re amazing at baseball. Didn’t you get some VIP trophy this summer?”
I roll my eyes. “MVP, not VIP.” Why is that so hard to remember?
“Sorry. I don’t speak meathead.”
“Thanks.”
“Gray, you need to stick with baseball. You love it. And you could make a ton of cash, are you nuts?”
“It’s just a game,” I say. “It’s just entertainment. Maybe I should just be with Dylan. I always expected her to follow me. Follow my life, my dreams, my path. And I was pissed off when she didn’t want to, when it didn’t fall perfectly into place the way I wanted it. So instead of trying to work it out, I pushed her away. That was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“What are you saying?”
I bite my lips together. What am I saying?
“Maybe I should give something up. I might be okay with that. I can do something else. I can finish school. Maybe I could coach.”
I breathe out a sigh.
Lenny breathes out a sigh. It’s like an echo.
“I wouldn’t even be playing baseball right now if it wasn’t for Dylan,” I add. I’m grabbing for excuses. “I’d probably still be in Phoenix, living with my parents, hating my life.”
“That’s not true,” Lenny says. “Dylan helped you get back on your feet, but you did the rest on your own. You’re just delusional right now. You’re suffering from a post sex high. Your hormones are all out of whack. You can’t make any rational decisions.”
“Yeah, right,” I laugh.
“I’m serious. You have sex brain. It’s basically making you stupid. When sex is on the brain you have no common sense, logic or practicality. It’s dangerous, Gray. Let it wear off for at least two days before you make any life-altering decisions.”
I smile. She might be right.
“Is Bubba there?” I ask. “Is he telling you to say this?”
“We broke up,” she says. “Last month.”
She doesn’t sound sad about it, more like she’s stating a fact. I almost say I’m sorry, but sometimes breaking
up is the best thing you can do. I never felt like Bubba was good enough for her.
“Congratulations,” I say, instead.
“Thank you,” she says. “I told you I don’t date athletes.”
“You can do better,” I say.
“Yeah. I never believed in the whole stupid soul mate thing. What a load of bullshit. But, when I saw you and Dylan together, I started to believe in it. I want to hold out for something like that. Is that a cheesy thing to say?”
“No,” I say, because she’s right.
I say goodbye to Lenny and slip the phone in my pocket.
I stretch out over a row of chairs and stare up at the ceiling tiles, speckled in flecks of gray and black. I wish Amanda were here. I still need her sometimes. I breathe out her name. Amanda, what do I do now? Can you help me out here? Give me a sign?
I close my eyes and there is something strangely comforting about all the commotion around me. I fade off to sleep.
Dylan
The sun is starting to set and I know Gray wants to get on the road. He isn’t answering his phone and I can’t find him anywhere. Finally, on the first floor by the gift shop, I see him asleep on a row of chairs. I sit down on the edge of one of the seats and lean my back against his hip. I rest my hand on his shoulder. I feel him shift and wake up.
“People are heading out,” I say.
He moans in response and swings his arm over his face to block out the bright overhead fluorescent lights.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel and sleep?” I offer. “Or you can stay at Mike’s aunt’s house?”
I know there’s an edge to my voice, a plea, because I don’t want him to leave yet. My family never understands me and he does and I want him here. I’m not ready to say goodbye. I will never be ready to say goodbye.
Gray sits up and rubs his eyes. “I need to get home,” he says. “I have to be back at school in a week, and I promised my parents I’d hang out for a few days.”
I nod slowly.
“You took a pretty long detour,” I say.
“It’s been interesting. Mike’s a good guy, Dylan. He’s going to be really good for your sister.”
“Can we take a walk before you leave?” I ask and Gray nods and grabs my hand. We stand up and walk through the automatic doors and we’re welcomed with fresh air. We turn and head toward the beach.
Gray’s phone rings and he looks down at the screen and hesitates. He tells me he needs to take it. “It’s my agent,” he says. “The greediest man I’ve ever met.”
He stops at the corner and sits down on the sidewalk bench and I keep walking down the block to give him space. I listen to the sounds of the city, to the traffic, the tires, the impatient brake and acceleration of cars like a conversation that suddenly cuts off and continues again. I watch people on the sidewalk in front of me and see a hurried frenzy, a nervous gesture, an awkward tick. But then I look at the ocean and I relax. If I’m going to live in LA, I need to be close to the ocean. It keeps you humble. She’s like a big sister, offering advice, reminding me to slow down and focus on what’s important.
Gray catches up with me a couple minutes later, just as our shoes hit the sand. My hair blows into my eyes and I pull it back into a short stump of a ponytail. We kick off our shoes and sit down, facing the setting sun, an orange apricot hanging low in the sky.
I look over at Gray. “You have a crease right here,” I tell him. I point my finger between his eyebrows. “It’s your ‘I have serious thoughts in my head,’ crease.”
He smiles because it’s true.
“What’s your plan, Dylan?” he asks me.
I look back out at the water and suddenly the sunset is no longer beautiful. The water looks cold. It looks like a cinematic backdrop to accompany a sad ending.
“I’m going to stay in the hospital with Serena for the next few nights. She doesn’t want to be alone and she said she’s already getting sick of Mike’s lactation references. He claims he wants to bottle breast milk and sell it as a coffee creamer. You can imagine the advertising tag lines he’s coming up with.”
Gray’s quiet for a few seconds. He’s not in a joking mood. The waves are small in the light wind, barely a ripple. They have lost their edge, or maybe they’re just exhausted from their long journey.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Gray says. He turns my shoulders so we’re facing each other. “What’s your plan, Dylan?” he repeats.
I want to say that I’m going with him to Phoenix, and back to Albuquerque and everywhere else life takes him. But that’s his path and, as usual, it splits away from mine.
“I’m moving here,” I say. “My sister asked me to stay and help her with Luke and I promised I would. It’s where I need to be right now.”
I’m expecting his eyes to fall, but he looks surprised. “You want to live in LA?” Gray asks me and I nod without hesitating.
“Ever since she asked me, it felt right. Usually when I commit to a place, I get this awful sinking feeling. I actually feel depressed. But this time it didn’t happen. I want to be here.” I look hopefully at Gray. “It’s sort of close to New Mexico,” I hint.
Gray shakes his head. “I’m not living in New Mexico anymore,” he says.
This time I feel a crease in my forehead. “But you said you’re going back there?”
He nods. “I have to meet with some coaches and move my stuff out, but then I’m moving here.”
I look at the ocean and back at him. “To LA?” I ask. Is he joking? “I thought you were playing baseball?”
Gray smiles. “We just got the offer we wanted from the Dodgers,” he says. “We’re accepting it. I’m signing.”
I nod slowly. The name sounds familiar, and I try to envision the mascot. What is a dodger? A type of badger? A cousin of a beaver?
“The San Francisco Dodgers?” I guess and the sky immediately lightens with the idea that we could make this work. “We would be in the same state?”
Gray rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what you say, I’m officially giving you an intro to baseball class,” he says. “The Los Angeles Dodgers,” he clarifies. “The stadium’s right downtown.”
“Wait,” I say. “We’re both moving to LA?”
He hesitates to answer me as if he’ll jinx this entire moment. He nods once. “Yes?”
Goosebumps rise up on my arms. Gray leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. I lace my fingers through his, first his right hand and then his left. It sends a jolt of energy all the way through my arms, to my chest, and I wonder if our fingertips are really just extensions of our hearts. Our fingers are where every connection begins and ends. I’m afraid to speak, afraid to blink, as if this all might disappear. I hold on tight to Gray’s hands.
“I don’t want to be away from you. Ever,” he tells me. He leans back and his eyes are inches away from mine. “I’m not letting you go this time, Dylan. You are my most basic need.”
“Gray—”
“Listen, I have a theory. Want to hear it?”
I nod. I love his theories.
“Life is really simple. We’re just thrown so many distractions that we forget how simple it is. But people have the most basic needs,” he says. “And deep down, I think we all get it. We know what’s most important. We know what we’re searching for.”
I nod.
“The challenge is, if you’re lucky enough to make an amazing discovery, you need to be smart enough to hold onto it. If you let it fall through your fingers, it makes the whole search a waste.” He looks at me, really looks at me. “I’m not letting you fall through my fingers again,” he says.
It’s so simple. “That is your best theory, yet,” I say.
~ Two Weeks Later ~
Dylan
“What? Is? That?” I ask and stare at a sparkly pink garment draped over my sister’s arm. She hands it to me and I examine the tight, glittery fabric.
“Your bridesmaid dress,” Serena says.
My mom gl
ances up from the couch, where she’s reading a magazine. My Grandma is sitting next to her, knitting a sweater for Luke. My dad and Pop are watching golf on the TV. My aunt and cousins are sitting on the floor, making flower wrist corsages. My aunt Diane-Dan and her partner are here; they’re in the kitchen in charge of making the wedding cake.
My mom gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s not very you,” she offers.
“Where did you get it?” I ask. “A store specializing in stripper costumes?” I joke. “On the sales rack?” Our fashion tastes have never exactly converged. Serena grew up in tutus and high heels, and I grew up barefoot and in overalls.
“Sorry, Dylan,” she mocks. “I couldn’t find any dresses made out of recycled jeans and patches.”
“How do you know it will fit me?” I ask. It’s my only exit door out of dress hell.
“It has a lot of spandex in it,” she tells me and pulls on the stretchy fabric to demonstrate. I start to back away, but she comes at me, her eyes stubborn. “Don’t you dare say no to me, Dylan. I’m very hormonal right now. I wish I could wear this but my current porn sized boobs would rip it apart.”
I look down at her giant chest, covered in a white terrycloth robe. Her dark hair is pulled off her face in hot rollers, held together by what looks like giant paperclips.
“I have a black dress,” I offer. I bought it four years ago and it still fits. It’s the only dress I own. “Can’t I just wear that?”
“You want to wear black to my wedding?” she says.
“Well, it’s not like you’re a virgin bride,” I say and point to Luke, sleeping like an angel in a bassinette in the living room.
Mike walks out of the kitchen with a beer in his hand. Serena allowed him creative liberty over the frosting design on the cake, which was a dangerous choice.
“Did somebody say porn?” he asks. “Hey, I’ve decided on a theme for the cake. I’m going with an outer space motif,” he says and Serena drops her argument with me long enough to stare at him.
“I’m thinking of the words, ‘May the Force of Marriage be With You,’ and I envision two lightsabers crisscrossing in the center and joining in an epic explosion of the Death Star which will be shaped like a heart.”
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