Return to Sender (Letters to Nowhere Part 2)

by Julie Cross

  I can’t let myself think about what’s going to happen between me and Jordan when he leaves for school.

  “This is a very crucial time for you,” he says. “You need to stay focused.”

  “It’s not like they’ll be sharing a cabin,” Stevie interrupts. “It’s not like they’ll be living and sleeping as close as they are right now.”

  “I’m not just talking about Jordan.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “In fact, I’m glad he’ll be there with you, but all those other distractions—camp activities, coaching.”

  “I’ve trained there before in the summer,” Stevie says, “It was pretty great, actually. Especially with the equipment. We could both work on upgrading our skills.”

  “Yes,” Bentley concedes. “That’s one of the big benefits I’d been thinking about.” He draws in a deep breath and looks at both of us. “Can you handle three weeks of Nina Jones minus me and half your support system… ? Ellen and Blair won’t be there.”

  I look to Stevie for approval and we both say, “Yeah, we can handle it.”

  And I have a feeling Stevie’s real thoughts line up with mine—I have no idea, but we’re about to find out.

  chapter four

  Jordan

  “Strep throat,” I repeat.

  “Didn’t you have that like last week?” Tony asks.

  “More like six weeks ago.” Twenty-four hours into my antibiotic treatment and I’m finally feeling like myself again. “Doctor said I probably developed a resistance to the antibiotics. He gave me something much stronger this time. It’s already working.”

  Tony plops down into the recliner and has his phone out three seconds later. “So, you nervous about seeing your world-famous girlfriend again? Now that she’s won a shit-ton of gold medals your ass might not be good enough for her.”

  Yeah, I’ve considered that. And yeah, Tony’s kidding, but still, I’ve considered it. I’m just not ready to think about that at the moment. I’m not ready to think about where she’s headed and where I’m headed and the miles—both symbolic and literal—between us. “I’m just excited to see her.”

  He glances up from his phone for a second and laughs. “Dude, I can tell. You’re pacing. Do you even know you’re pacing?”

  “I’m not pacing.” I stop walking and stand in place. “I’ve only got three days and then I’m leaving for camp.”

  I hate that I took that job and yet, I freaking need it, considering I’ve signed a letter saying I’m going to attend Stanford in the fall. My dad had better figure out this whole financial thing. I know he said he would, but that’s a hell of a lot of money to come up with by August. In the meantime, I’ve got to save every penny I can. If I’d known about me and Karen several months ago, I would have looked for a local job. Now the opportunity is gone and besides, I love coaching at gym camp.

  “Yeah, I know you’re leaving in three days for freaking Pennsylvania, which is not even a cool place to visit, and then you’re off to make fancy Ivy League friends.”

  Tony’s playing it off like he’s joking, but I can tell that going to school close to home while I’m away is not sitting well with him. Before I get a chance to respond, the front door opens and Karen and my dad both stumble inside, dragging several pieces of luggage each. Karen’s rolling a giant blue suitcase, her ponytail flipped over her face and her baggy Team USA warm-ups crinkling with every step.

  Dad gives me a quick pat on the back and then grabs Karen’s bags and heads for the stairs. As soon as he’s out of sight, I grab her around the waist and pull her into a big hug. My face is buried in her hair, taking in the familiar scent. She feels warm and solid and here. Finally here.

  “Jordan,” she laughs. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry.” I loosen my hold and pull away, resting both hands on her shoulders. “We’re going somewhere. Like now. Are you ready?”

  Her gaze drifts over my shoulder to Dad standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, defensive mode turned on. Karen’s face goes beet red and she steps away from me. Since he found out about “us” we’ve literally had two days at home together and I’ve been anticipating extra supervision and him being suspicious of forbidden activities happening when he’s not around. More suspicious of me instigating said activities, rather than Karen influencing me.

  “I thought you were sick,” he says.

  “Feeling much better now.”

  Karen’s literally standing between us and I can feel the awkward vibe rolling off of her. Her gaze drops to the floor. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Seventeen hours of travel and all…”

  The second she’s out of sight, Dad turns into an FBI interrogator. “Where are you going tonight?”

  I glance at Tony for a little help. I hadn’t exactly planned past the part where we got out from under Dad’s watchful eye. Tony drops his phone to his lap and straightens up. “Audrey Michaels is having a party tonight.”

  “So it’s like a big group thing?”

  I work really hard not to roll my eyes and say, yes Dad, lots of people around and little opportunity to get some quality alone-time. “Yep, big group thing. And Tony’s gonna chaperone.”

  “I am?” Tony says and then adds, “Right. I am,” after my eyebrows shoot up.

  “Be back by eleven.” Dad turns his back on me, heading toward his own bedroom.

  “Eleven? I’m eighteen and now you’re giving me a curfew?”

  “But Karen’s not,” he calls over his shoulder. “And she has practice in the morning.”

  Fine. We’ll be back at eleven. That gives us five hours. It’s better than nothing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KAREN

  “So whose party is this again?” I follow Jordan and Tony through a big house, out to a giant backyard, complete with swimming pool and hot tub, not to mention at least fifty teenagers. “And is everyone from your school rich?”

  I should talk. I’ve got a big empty house worth at least six hundred thousand that I need to pack up and sell.

  “Her name is Audrey,” Tony says, “but I have no idea where she is.”

  “And I’d say about ninety percent of the student body has a home of similar size.” Jordan glances over his shoulder, smiles at me, then reaches for my hand. “School tuition is like twenty thousand a year, so it goes with the territory.”

  My preparation for this party was limited to thirty minutes—nearly fifteen of those minutes were devoted to blow-drying my long thick hair after jumping in the shower and then throwing on jean shorts, a tank top, and a little lip gloss. Luckily, half the people here are in swimsuits and dripping wet.

  Jordan and I spend a good half hour walking around while he introduces me to various students and I try not to yawn. I’m not bored, just tired. I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours thanks to a very long and noisy flight. Finally, after we’ve chatted with almost everyone, Jordan grabs a pool lounge chair and drags it way out in the grass, away from the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I see Tony poolside, half listening to a group of guys around him, but mostly preoccupied with his phone.

  “Is he texting someone, or what?” I ask, nodding toward Jordan’s giant best friend.

  Jordan gives me his dimpled smile, brown eyes sparkling in the near-dark evening. “He won’t tell me. But earlier I peeked at his phone when he got up to go to the bathroom and might have glimpsed the name Paul.”

  “Huh.” I glance back at Tony again. He’s definitely got that all-consuming-more-than-casually-absorbed look on his face. “Where did he meet Paul?”

  “Don’t know.” Jordan tugs me down onto the chair with him and then slides my backpack off my shoulder and sets it between us. “I’m more interested in finding out why you had to lug this bag with you tonight. I didn’t know about the pool, which means you didn’t. So, it can’t be a swimsuit in there, right?”

  I hug the bag to my chest before he can try and open it and ruin the surprise. “Graduation and birthday presen
ts for you. And I couldn’t let your dad see.”

  He leans back against the chair, relaxing and looking so good my stomach is fluttering all over again. Three weeks apart and I’m almost as nervous and fumbling as the first day I met him. Okay, maybe not that nervous. I remove a maroon and white hooded sweatshirt with Stanford embroidered across the front. I’d ordered it online while I was in Brazil and Jordan was graduating without any family here to see him.

  He takes the sweatshirt from me, his forehead wrinkling. “You didn’t want my dad to see this?”

  I hide a smile and watch him pull the hoodie over his head. “Nope, not that present.” I remove a very long Team USA basketball jersey from my bag. “I know how you worship Charles Patterson and we weren’t ever at a press conference with the basketball team in Brazil, but right after a training session, I saw them come into the arena and head for their locker room. Which was way more posh than ours, in case you were wondering. They had maids and caterers.” I shake my head. “So unfair.”

  Jordan’s looking the jersey over, his eyes wide with amazement and I know right then that sneaking away from my group and having Blair stand watch was totally worth the lashing I’d have gotten if Nina or Bentley had caught me.

  “I was just planning on having him sign a game program or something,” I continued. “It was a last-minute plan, but when I pretended to accidently stumble into the wrong locker room, someone from the team recognized me which caused Charles Patterson to turn around and he recognized me. When I asked for an autograph, he whipped out a jersey, like he had a dozen extras lying around.”

  He’s holding the jersey like it’s made of glass, his thumb lightly brushing over the loopy letters of Patterson’s autograph. “Wow… this is so cool.”

  “So yeah, if your dad finds it, you’re gonna have to tell him you bought it on eBay or something.” I reach in and pull out the folded paper from my backpack. “Otherwise, he’ll watch me like a hawk every time we travel and that’ll be the end of your autographed swag days.”

  Jordan finally lifts his gaze to meet mine again. “Thank you.” He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the mouth, starts to pull away, but the simple touch of his lips against mine causes the awkward spell between us to drop and I’m reaching for his face at the same time his hand is cupping the back of my neck, the other combing through my hair.

  God, I missed kissing him.

  “You are so pretty,” he mumbles against my lips, “And you smell so good… and I missed you like crazy.”

  My face warms up, heat and probably red coloring travels all the way to the tips of my ears. “I missed you, too.”

  Jordan pulls away way too soon. We can’t exactly go make-out crazy right here, considering we’re not alone. Secluded, but not alone. And I’m suddenly daydreaming about the time we laid on a blanket in the park, kissing and touching and talking… I want to be that alone right now. He rests his forehead against mine, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. “Thanks for all my presents. You did well.”

  “Wait!” I straighten up and reach for the paper that had fallen onto my lap the second he started kissing me. “Got one more.”

  He unfolds the page and looks it over carefully. “A flight itinerary?”

  I nod, encouraging him to look more closely.

  “Two weeks from now,” he assesses, “you’re flying to… ABE… staying for four weeks.”

  “ABE,” I say, emphasizing that particular airport code. A tiny part of me is nervous that Jordan won’t be excited about this news. Maybe gymnastics camp is his place and he doesn’t want to bring relationships into it. Though he had a relationship with a girl named Liberty last summer. My stomach sinks just thinking about him and mystery girl together. Together in every way possible, which is a piece of information I, unfortunately, brought on myself by asking him about his sexual history before we were an official item. Damn therapy sessions. They make you all open and honest. Ugh. I take a deep breath and try to hide my newly acquired insecurities. “Nina Jones arranged for me and Stevie to train with her at gym camp in Pennsylvania along with the other top seniors. They’re remodeling the National Team Training Center and—”

  “Wait,” Jordan interrupts. “You’re coming to camp this summer? As in my camp?”

  I bite my lower lip and nod.

  The second his face lights up, relief washes over me. Jordan takes my face in his hands and kisses me again on the mouth. “This is so awesome! I’ve been debating all evening whether I’d actually be able to survive leaving in three days.”

  He releases me and folds his jersey neatly and stuffs it back into my bag along with the flight itinerary Nina Jones gave me before leaving Brazil. He zips everything up, sets the bag in the grass, then turns me around so that I’m facing the small lake that sits at the end of the backyard. One of his feet lands on each side of the chair and his arms hook around my waist, sliding me until I’m sitting between his legs, my back resting against his chest.

  I hear him sigh, then he says, “Best birthday present ever.”

  “Better than the jersey?”

  His lips rest on top of my head. “Way better.”

  “Well, thank Nina Jones, I guess.” I laugh and let my exhausted body mold into him. “Your dad’s not too happy about this plan.”

  “Yeah, I bet he isn’t.” He pushes my hair over to one shoulder and his nose grazes my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “No more parental influence tonight, okay? New subject?”

  New subject is kind of our signal for avoiding topics that are painful. Hearing him say that about Coach Bentley has me wondering if I should push the issue and get him to say what he’s really thinking. But then I decide maybe it’s best to let it go tonight. “Tell me everything about graduation. They don’t have a ceremony for online high-school graduates. They e-mailed my diploma. I need to live vicariously through you.”

  He tightens his arms around my waist and plants a kiss on my cheek, “Okay, so first we had this lame rehearsal where a few kids—can’t say who, though—decided that chickens should be part of the rehearsal…”

  There’s nothing boring about hearing Jordan talk and his graduation story is certainly filled with many colorful moments, but the lack of sleep and so many weeks of emotional highs and lows and physical exertion catch up to me. Before I know what’s happening, my eyelids are falling, my mind unable to stay alert and fight off sleep.

  chapter six

  Jordan

  Tony easily extracts a sleeping (more like unconscious) Karen from the front seat of his car, where we had to buckle her in because she wouldn’t wake up to do it herself. He passes her into my arms, causing me to stumble back and grunt from the effort of supporting her weight. She’s tiny and all, but in this complete rag doll state, she feels twice as heavy. I’m turning around, ready to head up the path to our townhouse, when the front door flies open and Dad comes rushing down the steps.

  “What happened?” he demands. “Was she drinking?”

  I’d laugh if a nearly hundred-pound girl weren’t pressing against my diaphragm. “She fell asleep. No drinking, no drugs, no excessive carbohydrate consumption.”

  Dad sighs with relief and nods. “She didn’t sleep at all on the flight. We had a couple of crying babies and a set of wild twin toddlers in our section.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna find a place to set my sleep-deprived girlfriend before my arms fall off.” Before stepping around Dad, I catch a glimpse of his stiff, impassive face and the way it tightens on the word “girlfriend.”

  Whatever. I can’t screen every word that’s about to exit my mouth to make sure it won’t make him uncomfortable.

  After a brutal walk up the steps with Karen, I lay her across her bed and pull the covers over her before shutting off the light. Tony is still on the porch holding Karen’s backpack, so I head back outside, hoping Dad will go to bed so that I can avoid the inquisition he’s no doubt dying to give me about the party. Only because Karen is
involved, I can’t help thinking. I shake my head, pushing my anger aside. It’s not her fault, it’s his. Or maybe it’s mine. I don’t even know anymore. I guess I’ve stopped keeping score.

  I open Karen’s backpack and show Tony the jersey she managed to get me, taking a second to glance through the front window and make sure Dad didn’t see, though I highly doubt he’d be as pissed off as Karen thinks he’ll be.

  “So, are we still going to the Cardinals game tomorrow night?” Tony asks, apprehension filling each word. He doesn’t want me to choose my girlfriend over him, but won’t admit it either. “I could probably get a ticket for Karen if you want?”

  “Nah.” I shake my head. “She’s got practice until nine so we’re good. Want to get food before? Spaghetti Factory?”

  Tony’s obsessed with Spaghetti Factory despite its mediocre status. “Sounds good.”

  I wait until he’s almost to his car, his fingers already punching in another text on his phone, before saying, “Tell Paul I said hi.”

  I know he’s pretty fucked up about this and probably way too ashamed to tell me about this dude he’s obviously into. I just want him to know he can tell me. I won’t freak out.

  Tony freezes, then slowly turns around. “Jordy… What the hell?”

  “You left your phone on the coffee table when you got up to pee this afternoon.” I walk closer to him and watch the tension cloud his usual happy-go-lucky face. His jaw tightens. “How’d you meet him? Or have you not met him? Is it one of those online only relationships… ?”

  “I’m not in a relationship.” He exhales, eyes darting all around the dark, empty complex parking lot, like we’re telling classified government secrets.

  “According to your Facebook status you’re not in a relationship, but according to your behavior the past few days, I’d say you’re knee and elbow deep in one.” I know all about the art of texting your way from friends to… more than friends. Karen and I had spent many nights hidden behind our own bedroom walls texting back and forth, for hours sometimes. I know how one short message can quickly turn into a hundred and how eleven at night can suddenly become one in the morning.