by Marilyn Grey
“How did you know I’d do laundry?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why did you hide in there?”
“Saw your clothes in your room and figured you might catch up. Then I saw the wet clothes in the washer and knew you’d eventually toss them in here.”
“You are cruel.”
“I can be weird too, you know. I wasn’t always the person I am now.”
“Apparently.”
Cruel prank. Scared the crap out of me. Almost literally too. But I must admit, he instantly earned six double chocolate brownie points for being the opposite of normal. And I actually let him stay a while.
I made two big bowls of ice cream with a thousand and one toppings, then sat beside him on the couch.
He looked at the ice cream and raised his eyebrows.
I shrugged and smiled.
“Where’s the ice cream in here?” he said.
“It’s mysterious.”
He nodded and took a heaping bite of awesomeness as I watched, imagining his pure delight as it surprised his taste buds.
“This is terrible,” he said.
I shrunk into the couch and took his bowl. More for me then.
He snatched it back. “For someone so strange you really can’t take a joke.”
“Guess I don’t expect joking from Mr. Ho-Hum.”
“You think I believe your facade?”
I stood and walked to the kitchen. He followed.
“I’m serious.” He leaned against the counter and pulled a strand of my hair. “You don’t even know who you are.”
“You don’t understand me.”
“Does anyone?”
I crossed my arms and squinted, hoping he’d disappear if I crushed him with my eyelids. Like a tiny nat caught in my eye.
“You don’t even understand yourself,” he said.
“I understand plenty. You just can’t fathom someone enjoying life and being positive about everything because for whatever reason you hate the world and most things in it.”
“I don’t hate the world.”
“You never say anything positive. Everyone is always falling apart. Love doesn’t last. Dreams fail. The world sucks. You know everything and everyone else knows nothing, unless they agree with you. You complain constantly and you have no desire to change things. You expect me to seek advice from someone like you?”
He slammed his bowl into the sink, his eyes glowing like a hyena on drugs, then walked to my front door and left.
Part of me felt sorry for saying all that, but he had no problem dishing out his opinions, whether they hurt or not. He needed to hear the truth too.
The door opened. He walked up to me, eyes on the ground, mumbling to himself. Still in his hilarious costume. Less than a foot away from me, he stopped, grabbed my face, and looked right into my eyes. My legs weakened. I stepped back and steadied myself on the counter. His eyes searched mine. Looking for some treasure underneath. Not sure what he intended to find. Don’t know why, but I didn’t realize how much I wanted to kiss him until now. And wow, did I want to kiss his face off until we lit up the room with a million fireworks.
He dropped his hands to his sides and walked out again. I waited for him to come back, my lips urging me to chase him out the door until they landed on him. But I didn’t listen. I stood there for a few minutes, picked up my purse, and headed to the place I loved most.
It was cool and crisp. Orion winked at me as I took my usual seat and pulled my legs up to my chest. City air filled with busy sounds could suffocate those accustomed to clean countryside air and only the sound of happy crickets, but it rejuvenated me. Inspired me. Tree branches lit by streetlights and benches marked with old gum and cigarette butts. Something about it. Maybe the stamp of struggle and the fight for triumph. Maybe the man across from me, sucking the life out of his paper-wrapped nicotine, enjoying himself until another man stopped and begged him to trade fifty cents for the rest of his cigarette. He waved the pest away with disgust. I smiled.
Derek sucked the life out of me like that man charred the life out of his lungs. Until him, I questioned nothing and lived most days with a perpetual smile. A perpetual longing for the beauty of life around me. Talking to him was like walking into a wrestling match. I defended myself by ducking or lost it and punched him where it counts. Who wants to have conversations like that?
A father walked by with his daughter saddled high on his shoulders. She pulled his hair to direct the horse as he made sounds and laughed his way to their stable, their stability, their life. I dreamed of such things. My dad, if you could call him that, barely talked to the woman he married, much less his kids. Stability seemed foreign, out of reach for a person like me.
A young girl walked by, dragging her feet and kicking rocks. Could’ve been me ten years ago. I imagined her walking off into The Big Dipper as her story sparkled and transformed into something wonderful. Something filled with love and laughter as the tree branches waved with delight. Tomorrow everyone at school would forget who was popular and who wasn’t and love everyone for who they really were. Then she’d get her chance. Then she’d turn her slow walk into an excited skip. Sometimes all we need is a little reason to wake up the next day. That’s all it takes to spark the light inside. Just one little reason.
I nodded to the man across from me. He half-smiled, then stood and walked away. I liked it here on these benches. No matter which part of the city I found myself in, I found some kind of story to dream up.
Pencil in hand, tablet on my lap, I started writing the story I longed to live. Page one, first sentence: When dreams evaporate into the clouds and come back down as tiny rain droplets, are they the same dreams, or something altogether new?
Ch. 4 | Derek
It takes a lot for me to admit when someone else is right. Especially when it cuts open old wounds of mine. But Miranda was right and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. Fear of what people would think—of what I’d think—if I revealed David Bennett to the world, consumed me. The very things I berated Miranda for doing, I did myself. That’s why I knew her better than she knew herself.
She was right. And maybe I did need to tell her. If anything, just for the sake of telling another soul and feeling like someone, somewhere, really knew me.
So, I devised a plan. First, I called my boss.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m going to need off for two weeks. An emergency came up.”
“Two weeks? Sorry, bro. You take off that kind of time and you can kiss this job goodbye.”
“Well, consider me puckered up.” I made a kissing sound and hung up the phone. So unlike me. More like David Bennett. The thought worried me. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I wanted to be the person I was before him or nothing at all.
Okay, so I just randomly quit my job. This must be what she says about living. Truly living. Or was I truly being a stupid person? I couldn’t help but wonder.
With plenty of time on my hands, I packed, and planned, and enjoyed the anticipation.
What three things would you want if you were stranded on an island? I texted Miranda.
She responded five minutes later. An old victorian nightgown. My journal. And a pen with blue ink and a fine tip. Why?
No reason, I said. Then grabbed my keys and went out to the nearest antique store, found an old white nightgown with a tag that claimed it was from 1890, bought it for a hundred dollars, then stopped at Walgreens to get a notebook and a pack of pens.
I spent the rest of my night preparing the boat, gathering food and supplies, and barely sleeping. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind being kidnapped. She’s weird enough, I thought, but you never know.
The morning light woke me up, but I could barely open my eyes. A long drive twice in a day, then all that labor with my boat and shopping, man, wiped me out. I forced my eyes open as I stumbled to the shower and got myself ready. I skimmed my closet for something nice to wear. All brown except one plaid button-down shirt. I slipped it on over one
of my typical brown shirts, pulled on my nicer jeans, complete with belt, and looked in the mirror. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe time for a haircut.
I shaved off my beard and filled the sink with way more hair than I thought I had on my face. Traded my rugged look for a long-haired Jon Bon Jovi. Not for too long though. I stuffed everything I needed into a backpack and drove to the closest hair salon, told the lady to give me a Keith Urban look, then walked out like a new person hoping to high hell no one noticed me.
When I parked in front of Matt’s house a few hours later I inhaled and exhaled and forced myself out of the car. One step, two step, three steps closer to showing her one piece of who I really was. Scared the heck out of me.
I almost went back to the car, but Matt opened the door and narrowed his eyes, looked me up and down, and said, “Gavin, come quick. I think I’m dreaming.”
Gavin stood in the doorway and smiled. “Normal looks good on you.”
I shook my head and walked passed them, straight to Ella. Weird seeing my little sister pregnant. She lifted her hand from her stomach to hug me, then tousled my hair. “Who ya trying to impress?”
“Just time for a change.”
She smirked as though she didn’t believe me. I never won any awards for lying or acting. Just for hiding.
Lydia walked over with a newborn wrapped in some kind of fabric contraption on her chest.
“Is that from Africa or something?” I said.
She laughed. “No. It’s a Boba Wrap. Never seen one before?”
Seeing a newborn wrenched my heart. Every time. Never failed. I often wondered if I’d ever be able to look at a baby without feeling horrible inside. Worse than horrible actually. The past haunted me in every newborn I saw. Every time. I tried to ignore the little hand all curled up and poking out of that fabric thing, but I couldn’t.
The past is the past. But really, is it ever? I spent years ignoring David Bennett. Years ignoring everything tied to him, including Ashleigh. The girl that ruined my life. Well, that’s not really fair. I ruined my own life by chasing her. And now I tried to ruin her life by ignoring her, by withholding the resolution she wanted. The ending I wasn’t sure I could give. But could I avoid her forever? The past is the past, yes, but it’s also part of who I am. Whether I liked it or not. My past was more of me than the future I wished it could be.
“Deep in thought?” Ella said.
I shrugged. Miranda walked in. Hair the color of a lime. Clothes like something out of Flashdance. I liked her. A lot. Fun girl. Amazingly brilliant. But why did she feel the need to hide her stunning beauty behind odd hairstyles and weird clothes? It didn’t make sense.
She ignored me until I walked over to her, took her hand, and apologized. A softness replaced her clenched jaw and she squeezed my hand.
“I want to take you somewhere,” I said. “Get away for a little. I planned an amazing vacation. You think Dee will be okay without you for a few days?”
“She will. But will we be okay with each other for a few days?”
I nodded, pleading with my eyes, hoping she would come away with me.
Ch. 5 | Miranda
Okay, breathe Miranda. This is the same guy that looked like a freak yesterday, I told myself. A freak in a normal way. Now, he looked like something straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. I stopped myself from imagining it. Okay, so I didn’t stop myself. Wow. Okay. Breathe.
He asked again. “Will you come or not?”
“When?”
“Right after this party.”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
I shrugged. “Let me think about it.”
So, I’m not a judge a book by the cover person. Normally. My favorite books are obscure, have the least intriguing covers, and captivate me because of the story, not the models on the cover. But if I were judging a book by its cover ... The Derek Rhodes Story just moved up to the best sellers list in my world.
I do realize how superficial that sounds. And I’m not normally so shallow, but the guy was beyond gorgeous with all that hair gone. It shocked me. I tried not to watch him across the room as I talked to Ella and Lydia.
“You and my brother are still trying to tell yourselves that you don’t like each other?” Ella said. “You haven’t stopped staring at him since you got here.”
“What happened in his past that made him so strange?”
“Not sure. He went off to college and stopped talking to us for years. He could’ve been dead for all we know. He came back one day and looked like a different person. Long hair. Beard. Major chip on his shoulder.”
“What did he go to school for?”
“Marketing or business or something.”
I turned to Lydia as she bounced her baby in the wrap. “What did you name him? I can’t remember.”
She smiled at the baby and held his hand. “His name is Liam.”
I glanced at Derek. He glanced at me. Butterflies.
“What was Derek like in high school?” I said to Ella.
“Intelligent, but stupid.”
I laughed. “How so?”
“Let’s just say this. He was Prom King and voted Most Likely to Succeed, but behind the scenes he was a major pot head.” She turned to him. “He was popular, but maintained his grades and graduated top of the class. All while being known as ‘High Roller’ because he always found the best marijuana.”
I stared at her, possibly blinked a few times.
“I know it’s hard to imagine. When he went to college something happened to him. He hasn’t been the same since. Won’t tell anyone.”
“Wow,” Lydia said. “Where did he go to college?”
“Don’t know. He never told anyone. Strange, but we weren’t close at that point so I never asked much. We are closer now, but he won’t tell me what happened. Believe me, I’ve asked a thousand times.” She looked at him again. “I always hoped he’d find a girl to show him a different side of life. Help him live a little.” She turned to me. “He needs to laugh again.”
“No, no,” I said. “I’m not the girl.”
She grinned and shrugged. I shook my head as she laughed my unwillingness away. As much as I denied her prodding, I admit he intrigued me. A mysterious man who needed to learn to live. Yes. Exactly the kind of thing I liked.
A challenge.
I walked over to him. Engrossed in a conversation about concrete and gravel with the guys, he didn’t notice me. I linked my arm with his and smiled.
He looked down at me, unlinked his arm, and said, “So you’ll go?”
I nodded. “On one condition.”
He stepped aside and led me to the kitchen. “What?”
“Once we get there you have to answer every question I have without hiding the truth.”
He walked around the kitchen in two circles, then stopped, put his hands in his pockets, and said, “Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Then I’m not going.”
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “I will tell you some things, but not all.”
“Why do you want to go on vacation with me of all people?”
Matt walked in. “Look at you two love buttons.”
“More like one ferromagnetic magnet repelling another paramagnet who seems to only have a North Pole and can’t seem to align himself with the South Pole of the ferromagnetic magnet.” I took a breath. “Actually, no, maybe it’s just a case of diamagnetism.”
Matt stopped whatever he was doing, hand mid-air, eyes peeled back, and waited for Derek’s response.
“It’s not diamagneticism.” Derek said. “My electrons are not spin-paired. And don’t be so sure of yourself. You’re not ferromagnetic either. If our subshells were completely filled with electrons then we wouldn’t be able to affect each other as much. But we do. We are just normal paramagnets. Take us away from each other and we may lose our power, put us together and we may push and pull, attract and repel, but we’re not diamagnetic and I don’t know about you, but I thin
k there’s some kind of external magnetic field here that helps us become magnetic.”
Matt laughed. “Wow. Okay. Well, um, more power to you both. I will be in here with the humans.”
I smiled. “You know your chemistry.”
He nodded. “I know chemistry when I see it.”
Ch. 6 | Derek
Maybe my magnetism speech convinced her to be spontaneous with me, whatever the case we ended up at her apartment after the party. I sat on her bed and watched her pack twenty six shirts, fifteen pants, eight shorts, six skirts, forty-two dresses, eleven leggings and tights, nineteen pairs of shoes, six bottles of hair dye, a ton of jewelry, and an entire suitcase devoted to makeup and hair products. I didn’t say a word. Smiled, nodded, and placed her seven luggage contraptions next to my solitary backpack filled with one brown shirt, a pair of pants, my bathing suit, a toothbrush, and one clean pair of underwear.
She sat in the passengers seat and exhaled. I shut her door, sat down beside her, and said, “You do realize we are only going to be gone a week, right?”
“I like to be prepared.”
Understatement of the century.
We drove a while until we hit tons of traffic. After sitting there staring at bumpers, we decided to stop and get something to eat. GPS led us to a Red Lobster in Maryland. We ordered, blinked at each other, and ate.
“You haven’t said a word since we left.” She smoothed her lime hair into a pony tail. “Where are we going anyway?”
“A cruise.”
“Are you serious? That’s one of my biggest fears.”
“A cruise?”
“Um, yes. Remember Titantic?”
I laughed. “Well, we’re not going on a ship so don’t worry.”
“Do you have any fears?”
“Heights.”
“Heights? As in airplanes or ladders?”
“Both.”
“Tell me why you want me to do this.”
“Because we both need a vacation and you happen to be my closest friend right now.”