“And what was that?”
“She wanted to bring the program into the schools. The competition we’re doing here, it’s the foundation’s first go at raising money for local charities through this kind of program. If it’s successful, we plan to keep doing it. If it works out, we’ll pack up and move elsewhere, keep spreading the goodness, you know?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re not planning to stay in the area?”
“We’ve been around here forever,” he said. “And RI has been here for almost two years. We’ve done just about everything we can in this region. We opened the soup kitchen in Desden, and that was huge. It was a much-needed change for their community, and it’s still going strong. We’ve built new parks and renovated the old ones. We’ve cleaned up the streets; we’ve started food and clothing drives. We’re in the schools now. That’s great because we hope that what we’re doing will make an impression on the students, and that you guys will try to continue the good work long after you’ve left the program.”
“So then what’s the plan?” I asked, no longer focused on writing. All of a sudden, all I could hear him saying was ‘we can’t wait to get out of here.’
“Ideally, what we’d like to do is uproot, move, and set up shop in a new community every quarter,” he said. “We’ll try to stay in the schools if we can, but we’ll have to have volunteers everywhere we go. That’s one of the big challenges we face.”
“Oh.”
“Most of the volunteers we have now are minors or putting themselves through college,” he continued. “So it’s just not practical to expect much more than a few months’ commitment. The staffers though, like Lashell and me, will move when the group moves. Of course, we’re primarily local right now, as I said; we’ve only done work in this region, but we’re scheduled for a stop upstate in the spring. And hopefully, in the fall, we can kick off another district competition with schools up there. We’ll see how it goes.”
It was wondrous to hear Gabe talk about the project the way he did. It meant a lot to him, that much was clear. I really admired that he could speak so passionately about something that he’d given so much of his heart and soul to; knowing how special it was to him, it made it much more special to be a part of the whole program. No matter what our roles were, no matter how big or small, it just gave me this overwhelming feeling to know that I—and everyone I’d teamed up with at school— had been given the opportunity to be a part of it.
I knew it was a great idea for Gabe to uproot and move. He’d made his mark on our town and all of the towns around us. He’d done his part here, and it was only best that he keep doing whatever he could to help other communities. He wanted to spread the love, and that was amazing. But that meant he had to leave, and for some reason, I had a hard time stomaching that.
Not wanting to give that questionable feeling of mine another minute of thought, I shook my head and prepared for another question.
“So, you grew up out in Desden, right? Graduated from Desden High School?” I faked just enough confidence to make it seem like I really knew for sure.
“I did,” he said, his lower lip quivered slightly with his response. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden change of subject or the topic of choice, but something had taken him by surprise. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then tilted his head. “How did you—?”
“I may not know a lot, but I know some things.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t had time to prepare for this interview.” He tried to disguise his discomfort with a forced smile, but I could tell that my simple mention of his high school days put him on edge. “All right, so tell me. How many bad yearbook pictures did you dig up?”
“None,” I assured him, and he actually seemed relieved by that bit of information. “You can relax, Gabe. I’m not sitting on a pile of blackmail over here. I really didn’t have time to properly prepare for the interview. I just got to talking about the program the other day with my sister and her boyfriend, and it turns out that he knew you from school; he said you graduated a couple of years ahead of him.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “And who is your sister’s boyfriend?”
“Jones Smith,” I said, hoping the name wouldn’t bring back a flood of terrible memories. If Gabe really had been an über-recluse back in the day, Jones—and all of the other people like Jones who thought Gabe was just a loser and a freak—may not have left him with the most pleasant memories. The last thing I wanted was to dredge up anything bad or pour salt in any open wounds.
Gabe seemed to search his memory for a minute, but nothing in his expression changed. “I vaguely remember the name, but the face isn’t coming to me.”
I nodded once. I was ready to let it go, but I’d piqued his curiosity. He turned in his chair and watched me a little closer.
“Is that all he said?” he asked. “Just that he knew me?”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
His lip twitched, and I sensed that he didn’t believe my lie. Still, he let it go.
“So your sister—”
“What about her?”
I was eager to move past the awkward subject and into safer and more comfortable territory, but I wasn’t so sure how safe the subject of Bailey was for me. Gabe already knew how much her friendship and support meant to me, and I didn’t want to shed any more light on my insecurities with my relationship with her.
“She didn’t want to do the program?”
“Oh, Bailey’s not really the type,” I said. “Which is why I wanted her to do it in the first place.”
“And she’s… how old?”
“Oh, she’s my twin— identical twin, actually. People can rarely tell us apart.”
“That’s cool.”
“And that might be a stretch,” I said, stopping him before he got ahead of himself. “I love my sister, I do, please don’t misunderstand. But Bailey and I are the perfect example of why the term identical only refers to our physical similarities.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I assured him. “We both grew up with the same parents, same values, same everything, but we couldn’t be less alike. She was never treated any better or any worse than I was, so it’s fair to say that our upbringing was identical, sure. Yet we grew into two, completely different people.”
“How so?”
“Okay, don’t think me immodest, but I like to think I’m a little more grounded and morally sound than she is.” I heard just how self-righteous the words sounded. “Again, let me just say that I love her, I do. But she’s a bit self-absorbed, and she loves men. Loves them. Well, she basically loves anyone who’ll pay attention to her. She thrives off attention. Nothing means more to her than her friends and her schedule, and that couldn’t be further from who I am. And I don’t know, I find it all a little strange. I just think it’s weird how two people who’ve lived the exact same life could turn out so differently.”
“You know differences aren’t always a bad thing, Mandy.”
“But like I told you at lunch, we used to be close,” I said. “Naturally, we were inseparable. But things changed, and I don’t know… Bailey changed. We just grew apart. Sometimes I think it would’ve been easier if she was older or younger or… maybe even my brother; I don’t know. But she’s my twin sister. We’re supposed to have this undeniable connection, this unbreakable bond, and we just don’t have it.”
Silence got the better of us for a few, long seconds.
I’d already said too much. In the past eight hours, I’d let Gabe too close; I’d let him see more than I ever wanted anyone to see. Now he wasn’t saying anything. If I sat there and kept talking, I knew I’d only keep digging that hole deeper, and I’d be lucky if I was ever able to climb out.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, stealing a glance at my watch. “I don’t want to talk about this.” I reached over and flipped the power on the voice recorder. “I should probably get home before it gets any later. It’s …” I let a b
reath pass slowly through my lips. “It’s a school night, and I have a lot to get done still.”
Though I managed to give him that lame excuse with a straight face, I wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d believed me. Still, he played along.
“Okay, sure,” he said, nodding at my plate. “Do you want to take that to go?”
“I’m not sure it’s worth saving at this point,” I said, looking down at the sandwich.
Though I’d tried to be persistent and pay my own half of the bill, Gabe insisted on picking up the tab for both of us; I hated that I caved in and let him have his way, especially considering that he was paying for food that I hadn’t even eaten.
When we reached the parking lot, Gabe opened the passenger door of his black Corolla and nodded for me to take a seat. Doing my best to get in the car without making any unwanted contact, I settled into the seat and fastened my belt. Just like when he’d taken me home and picked me up earlier, the car was cozy, warm, and it carried the faintest scent of coffee. It smelled like him. He always smelled like coffee. I took a deep breath and grinned.
We rode in silence for a few minutes, neither of us throwing a glance in the other’s direction. When we pulled up to the driveway, Gabe hustled around to the side to let me out. It was very gentlemanly of him, and I was surprised at how much that gesture impressed me. I always thought of myself as the kind of girl who would hate something cheesy and corny like that, but something about the smile on Gabe’s face as he did those small things seemed so sincere. I think it was the sincerity that I liked more than anything. The gesture itself was only secondary.
“So when will I be seeing you again, Mandy?” Gabe asked, walking me up to the house. His limp seemed to have gotten better since Saturday morning, but he still struggled a bit on the steps.
“I don’t know,” I said, turning back to him at the door. “You seem to have a habit of popping up unexpectedly. I guess I should be asking you when I’m going to be seeing you again? Plan on jumping out in front of my car anytime soon?”
“I didn’t jump out in front of your car.”
“And I wasn’t texting,” I admitted for the first time. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“I was inspecting the front gates,” he said, finally giving me the answer I never thought I’d get. At least I could rest easily knowing that we were both a little reckless and irresponsible. “Okay then. I suppose I’ll see you on Thursday at the soup kitchen kick-off.”
“Sounds good.”
Standing there, neither of us really sure how to part, I simply stuck my hand out to shake his. Gabe’s eyes trailed down to look at my outstretched hand. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave me hanging, but he eventually lifted his hand and took mine. He simply held it that way for a few seconds, never shaking it, the way he had once done before on Saturday. His fingers only tightened against mine with a gentle squeeze, something that was so simple but felt so warm and tender.
“Thursday,” I said quietly, and then he nodded.
“Thursday.”
Nine
Neither Bailey nor my father had been home when I arrived. Dad left a note on the kitchen counter that said he was headed out for a while and would be home by seven, but he didn’t bother leaving any specifics.
It wasn’t until seven that Bailey had strolled through the door and slammed it shut behind her. I distinctly heard her throw her purse into her bedroom, and I could make out each of her steps as she walked to the end of the hallway to my open door.
“Hey, where’s Dad?” She leaned at the door frame, tapping her foot. “Hello?”
I looked at her once and then back down to the pamphlet. I didn’t want to talk to her. After the way she treated me at school that morning, I couldn’t imagine that Bailey and I had anything left to say to one another.
“Ah, come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”
I rested on my stomach, reading over the information packet I’d gotten from Lashell at the assembly last Friday. After the little back-and-forth joking I’d done with Gabe over the fact that I hadn’t yet read up on the program, I thought it was about time I took a few minutes to do just that. After all, it probably wouldn’t hurt to know a little background information for my article. And if I learned a little about Gabe in the process, then I guess that was okay, too. Again, I needed to know as much as possible for the article. Rule # 8: Always be prepared.
“Mandy, are you going to answer me or not?”
I kept my head low as I pretended to read the information just under ‘Volunteer Code of Conduct.’
“Mandy,” she whined, and then she stamped her foot. One slow and timid step at a time, she finally made her way to my bed and sat down. “Please look at me. Please?”
I did as she asked, but I quickly found myself wishing that I hadn’t. Bailey had twisted her face into the most pitiful expression, one that looked far too pathetic and forced. And although I knew she was only faking her puppy dog pout, I couldn’t stay angry. I looked at her pouted lip, and I couldn’t see anything but a reflection of myself. How could I be mad at my own sad face?
“Whatcha readin’?” she asked, settling in next to me. She took the booklet out from underneath me and flipped through a few pages. She studied the front matter, read a quick ‘welcome’ paragraph, and then she slid it back to me. “I thought this was just some lame attempt to win some money, but you’ve really gotten into this whole program thingy, huh?”
I twisted my lips and looked over at her, savoring that moment for as long as I could. For a brief second, I almost thought I’d gotten my sister back. She was quiet, intuitive. She was taking the time to ask me about something that mattered to me, and that was something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She was showing the side of herself I hadn’t seen in months, the side that I’d so long hoped to get back.
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up. I folded my feet beneath my legs and picked up the booklet once more. “I’m glad I decided to do it.”
Bailey remained quiet for a few seconds, and then she stared down at her hands and avoided my gaze.
“Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened at school this morning,” she said, and her voice cracked under pressure. It was the first apology I could recall hearing from her in years, and I knew even saying that much had been difficult for her. “Sometimes I get caught up in the heat of the moment and say things I don’t really mean.”
I nodded once, but didn’t say anything.
“I know I hurt you, and I just… I don’t want you to be mad at me,” she said. “I feel like you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I said. “I’m just… I don’t know, Bailey; I’m hurt. Sometimes I don’t think you realize how deep your words can cut.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and I knew better than to press it any further. Two apologies from Bailey, no matter how small, carried a lot more weight than one grand apology from any normal person.
“It’s okay,” I said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Just try to be a little more sensitive from now on, okay? I’m not you. I can’t just let comments roll off my shoulders.”
Again, she nodded.
“So you’ve made some new friends through this RI thing?” she asked, trying as hard as she could to stay open to the idea.
“I guess,” I said, not entirely sure that I could call them ‘friends.’ “There’s Carla and Fletcher, Lashell… Gabe.”
“The Gabe?” she asked, crinkling her nose. “Loser-Gabe?”
“See that’s the kind of stuff you can’t say,” I said, pointing a finger at her. She laughed. “You’re being insensitive again.”
“I’m only teasing.”
“Right.” I guessed I would just have to accept that, no matter how much she tried, Bailey would still take a jab wherever she could get one in.
“So, any idea when Dad plans to come home?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. “He hasn’t been around much lately.”
“He s
hould’ve been here by now, at least according to the note he left on the counter. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. He’s got a lot coming up; you know how he gets when there’s a lot of pressure mounting. He’ll come around.”
“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t seem to be listening to a single word I said. “But did he say where he was?”
“No. He left a note, only said that he’d be back by seven.”
“Right,” she said, and then she clicked her tongue a few times. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.” She leaned close, and her voice dropped into a low whisper. “I think he’s only staying away because he’s avoiding us.”
“Meaning?”
“I think he’s going to quit.”
“What? What do you mean you think he’s going to quit? He spends every waking moment at the office!”
“Or does he?” she asked. “When has he ever specifically said he’s at the office? He always says he’s working—”
“On his projects—”
“Think about it, Mandy,” she said. “When’s the last time he’s ever mentioned anything specifically?”
I tried to remember, but she was right. There hadn’t been a single mention of his work, the office, or his mayoral responsibilities in a long, long time. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever given us any kind of specifics; he’d started giving us some pretty lame excuses, but I hadn’t really taken the time to notice.
Was he crumbling under pressure? Had something happened? It didn’t seem out of character for Dad to give up when things got hard, but he wouldn’t break a promise to Sugar Creek the way he’d broken his promises to us. Would he?
“You’re right,” I said, shaking my head. Bailey nodded as if she hadn’t doubted that fact for a second. “He’s been very vague. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, pursing her lips. “I think I know exactly what’s going on.”
“And?”
“I overheard him on the phone last week talking with Ripken.”
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