The drive up north to Traverse City is dull. I’m sure if we were with Ashley’s parents, they’d have had us playing word games or singing songs. Instead, Carl and Mom mostly ignore us, and I’m enjoying the summer air blowing through the windows and pushing the loud ’90s metal music outside. Ashley and I talk for a while, about nothing much. I think about Reid because I don’t want to do anything else.
My cousin Brittney’s wedding is fancy, and I’m totally embarrassed. Although Mom, Ashley, and I got dressed up, Carl refused. While every other man is wearing a suit, Carl looks like a loser in his Harley T-shirt, blue jeans, and wallet chained to his belt. He’s worse at the reception, drinking too much and constantly yelling at the band to play Aerosmith.
Brittney’s more beautiful than ever, but the happier she looks, the sadder I get. There are not a lot of people here our age, so mostly Ashley and I dance with each other. A couple of creepy thirty-year-old guys keep hitting on us, but I don’t need anyone’s lame lines or leers.
Carl isn’t the only one drinking, but I notice the alcohol consumption is mainly on our side of the family. My grandmother came up from Florida for the wedding, but since she and Mom don’t speak, I feel like I’d be betraying my mom if I even talk to Grandma, who’s a stranger to me anyway. Brittney’s new husband has this big happy family who smile for the cameras like they’re in some TV ad. Brittney’s dad gathers us for family photos, but his wife and my mom are such different sisters: the waitress and the doctor’s wife. And there’s so much bad blood; my mom hasn’t spoken to her mother since just after I was born. No, this wedding isn’t exactly a celebration for my family, and I suspect that worse times are coming as Carl keeps shouting at the band. Mom says something to him, but he turns away, pushing her as he tries to balance himself.
“He’s drunk,” Ashley says, not even trying to hide her anger and disgust.
“You think?” I reply, trying to make a joke, but Ashley’s not laughing.
“I hate this!” she says, then walks briskly away from me.
“Wait up!” I call after her, but she takes off her shoes and starts running down the hall. I chase after her, but it’s like she’s being pursued by a monster. She doesn’t even wait for the elevator, taking the stairs to our room on the fourth floor of the hotel. By the time I catch her, she’s crumpled by the door with her eyes shut tight like a steel trap.
“Do you have the key?” she asks.
I pull the key card from my small purse and put it into the door. “You okay?”
“I’m just tired and cold,” she says. With the July night air outside still up in the 80s, the AC at the Traverse City Grand Hilton is running at the max.
“Ashley, I’m sorry about Carl,” I say as we go into the room.
“It’s not Carl,” she says, crawling under the covers while still wearing all of her clothes. “It’s all the Carls down there.”
“I don’t understand,” I reply, sitting on the edge of my bed.
Ashley doesn’t say anything as she shivers under the blankets.
“What can I do?” I ask, leaning over to touch the edge of her bed.
“Keep me warm,” Ashley says. Her teeth are chattering like the sky is full of snow-filled clouds instead of summer stars. “I don’t want to be cold again.”
I’m not sure what she means, but she opens up the blankets and motions for me to crawl into bed with her. When I do, she holds me like someone free-falling from the sky.
I rub her arms to warm her up, but she keeps repeating how she’s cold. Then we hear Mom and Carl crash into the room next door. Even through the thick wall, we can hear their yelling and what sounds like a chair getting turned over. There’s more yelling, a door slam, and then the sound of the TV coming on loud. As all this is happening, Ashley starts shaking. I hold her tighter, clutching her like Mom held me when I was a sick child. When it seems like she’s asleep, I crawl out of bed and grab my cell.
“Danielle, don’t leave me alone,” Ashley whispers softly. “Come back to bed.”
“I was just going to call…”
She finishes my sentence, almost spitting out the word “Reid.”
“I want you to meet him. Maybe you won’t feel the same way if—”
Ashley cuts me off. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“But he’s so cool. He’s not a loser like Carl,” I say, the words rushing out of me. “He’s not immature like Evan. He’s great-looking and he lov—”
Ashley cuts me off again, saying, “I know his type,” although I don’t believe her for one second.
“Why do you hate him so much?” I ask, wondering if the emotion of the evening coupled with the lateness of the hour will finally allow her to be honest with me.
“Because he’s going to hurt you.”
“But I love him,” I say, not even stumbling over the word “love” this time.
“That’s why he’s going to hurt you.” Ashley’s sitting up in bed now.
“You don’t understand,” I say.
“Understand what?”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I want to pull them back in. “Being in love.”
“You’re still so naive, Danielle.”
“Reid is just so special. It doesn’t matter that he’s older. It doesn’t matter that—”
“Are you trying to justify this to me or to yourself?”
I don’t answer, so Ashley says softly, “Look, Danny, I just want to protect you.”
“I can protect myself.”
“Who knows how many other girls Reid—”
“Ashley, stop talking that way.”
“Fine, I’ll stop talking because you don’t want to listen anyway,” Ashley announces. I try to restart the conversation, but if I mention Reid’s name, it’s like I’m pushing an off button.
I lie down on my bed with Ashley in the next bed, still huddled up under the covers. My head is spinning, probably more than even Carl’s drunk skull. I feel like I’m back on the merry-go-round and all the faces in my life are whirling past me. Every time Reid’s smile beams at me, I know I’ve finally figured out what I always wanted to know: love is real.
• • •
“Where’s Carl?” I ask Mom the next morning as she puts the coffee cup to her mouth with her right hand. With her left, she’s fiddling with the pair of cheap sunglasses she’s wearing.
“He’s still asleep,” she says, then she sets down the coffee cup, which is good because her hand is shaking. I feel like all these well-dressed people here in the hotel café are staring at us.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I ask. Ashley shifts in the seat next to me.
“Just tired,” she replies, reaching into her purse. “Wasn’t the wedding beautiful?”
“I guess,” I say as I watch Mom pull out cigarettes and a lighter. This morning, I see the wedding in a darker light. On my wedding day, there’ll be no Dad to give me away or have the first dance, like Brittney and her dad shared. There’ll be no beautiful bridesmaids or grinning groomsmen. No flowers, no fancy hotel, no happy family pictures.
“Excuse me, you’re not allowed to smoke in the restaurant,” the waiter says, tapping my mother on the shoulder almost the second she lights up.
“What?”
“This is a no-smoking establishment,” he says, crossing his arms while Mom inhales.
“Fine,” my mother retorts, then puts out the cigarette in the fancy hotel coffee cup.
“It’s no big deal,” I say.
“Let’s get Carl’s lazy ass out of bed and get out of here,” my mom says as she throws a few dollars on the table. Ashley looks like she wants to die as she follows my mom and me out of a room where we obviously shouldn’t have been sitting in the first place.
• • •
“You ask him,” Ashley whispers to me as soon as we drive away from the hotel.
“He’s in a bad mood,” I whisper back. As on the drive up, the front seat’s full of music instead of conversation, while our bac
kseat’s full of whispers and deep sighs, mostly from Ashley. I feel bad, since I’d begged her to come with me so I wouldn’t be trapped with just Mom and Carl. I owe her, yet again.
“Please, do this favor for me,” Ashley says.
“Carl!” I yell over the booming greatest hits of heavy metal.
He doesn’t answer; his eyes are focused on the road in front of him. My mother doesn’t turn around, either. I can’t tell what her eyes are focused on because those cheap sunglasses remain firmly on her head. “Carl!” I shout, this time with a short kick of the seat.
He turns down the music, sighs, and then yells back at me, “What do you want?”
“How far is Tawas from Traverse City?” I ask, as if trying to win a politeness award.
“You think I’m Rand F’n McNally or something?” is his less than helpful response.
“It’s on the other side of the state, I think,” Mom says, sounding confused.
“Why the hell do you care?” Carl snaps back. He sounds hungover.
“Don’t talk to my daughter that way,” Mom says to Carl.
There’s silence in the car; it’s the polar opposite of last night. Carl turns the music back up, but Ashley squeezes my hand, forcing me to press on.
“We’d like to go Tawas,” I shout over the music.
“I need to get home,” Carl says. I want Mom to correct him: our house isn’t his home, and his desire to smack a softball with a bat is hardly a pressing need. But Mom lets it go, like a lot of stupid things he says or does.
Another squeeze from Ashley. “Please, this is important,” I say, trying to sound pitiful.
Mom turns to face us. “What’s going on? Ashley, do you know someone there?”
Ashley looks out the window, not at Mom, when she answers, “Nobody, we just used to vacation there, that’s all.”
Although I don’t know why she wants to visit, I keep going. “Ashley says it’s a really nice place and …”
Carl hurls himself back into the conversation. “Your friend isn’t driving, I am,” he says.
Mom smiles at me, then speaks to Carl. “Carl, as long as we’re this far north…”
“It’s at least four hours out of the way,” Carl barks. “And besides, I don’t want to get stranded over in hillbilly hell.”
“Hillbilly hell?” Mom says.
“Yeah. Traverse City and the cities on Lake Michigan are nice, if you’re rich like your stuck-up sister. But over on the Lake Huron side, especially around Tawas, it is nothing but hillbillies, inbreeds, and junkies!” Carl doesn’t realize that he’s shouting. “It’s like Detroit, except with wasted white trash rather than crackheads.”
“Take that back,” Ashley whispers.
“What did you say?” I whisper back.
“Take it back,” she says louder, clearly aiming at the front seat, but Carl’s not responding.
“Ashley, let it go,” I say, but her anger’s growing. I’ve seen this side of her only a few times at school, mainly if someone’s mean to me. If someone says the wrong thing at the wrong time, she can go from calm to storm in ten seconds flat.
“Take it back,” Ashley repeats, leaning forward, then reaching her long arm into the front seat. She’s pointing at Carl, but he’s staring at the road in front, not the rage behind him.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Carl says, finally acknowledging Ashley.
“I said take it back,” Ashley says, louder now.
“What is she talking about?” Carl asks Mom, who seems to be shrinking in her seat.
“Ashley, come on, it’s not that important,” I say, trying to protect her.
“Take it back! What you said about people there.” Ashley kicks Carl’s seat.
“Unless you want to walk back to Flint, I suggest you knock it off!” Carl shouts at her.
“Take it back,” she repeats like a machine gun. “Take it back. Take it back. Take it back. Take it—”
“Mom,” I yell, but she’s lost behind her shades.
“I didn’t realize your friend was such a nut job,” Carl says, then laughs.
“For the last time, take it back,” Ashley says.
Mom finally speaks. “Carl, for God’s sake, just—”
“Shut up!” Carl shouts back. “Shut up, all of you. Are you all on the rag or what?”
Ashley springs from the backseat, but she doesn’t reach for Carl. Instead she snatches the sunglasses off my mother’s face. Mom turns around so fast she doesn’t take the time to hide her blackened left eye.
“Take it back or I’ll call the police,” Ashley says, whipping out her cell phone.
“Ashley, there’s no need,” Mom says, embarrassed and ashamed.
Carl doesn’t say anything, but pushes down hard on the brakes and pulls the car over to the shoulder. All of us lurch forward as the car stops. Carl looks hard at my mother, then turns to face Ashley. His eyes are hot with anger, but Ashley’s are pure fire.
“Who do you think you are?” Carl asks.
Ashley doesn’t say anything; time stands still in silence. She’s looking at my mom’s sunglasses, holding them up to the light, like a prism.
Carl looks like he wants to jump in the backseat and smack Ashley; instead, he hisses out his question again. “I said, who in the hell do you think you are?”
“Maybe I’m a piece of hillbilly white trash,” Ashley says with no emotion whatsoever in her voice. “Or maybe I’m the person who is going to see you fucking rot in fucking jail if you ever fucking hit Danny’s mother again! You understand that, you psycho asshole?”
With that, she hands the sunglasses back to my mother, then looks out the window.
“Take us home,” Mom says softly. Carl looks like a pot ready to boil, but says nothing. I think Ashley scared him. She sure scared me. I’ve seen many sides of Ashley, but not this one. It’s like a whole different person is hiding inside of her.
It takes us a while to get back to I-75 south. Once we’re on the highway, Ashley whispers to me, “Thanks for asking.”
“Thanks for sticking up for my mom,” I say, feeling guilty that I didn’t fill that role.
“Why does she put up with him?” Ashley whispers, but before I can answer, she sighs and says, “I know why. She loves him.”
“I guess,” I mutter. That word, those emotions, all jumbled up in my life.
“Love destroys everything,” Ashley says, in a tone as dark as the July day is bright.
I ignore her strange statement. Instead, I just say, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asks.
“For my family,” I say, realizing that includes Carl, hate it or not.
“Like I said. Love destroys everything.”
“Well, I’m still sorry for all this.”
“It’s okay.” There’s that sadness in her eyes again, which seems older than her years.
She turns to look out the window, and stays that way for the rest of the trip, like she’s in a trance. Her eyes are hidden from me, but there’s a sound of sorrow coming from deep inside her. I put my hand on her shoulder, then say, “It’s okay, Ashley, we’ll be home soon.”
She doesn’t turn around, but I hear her say, “Home isn’t always where you think it is.”
“God, Ashley, that is such a cliché.” I tell her that a lot.
“Maybe,” she mumbles. “But Danny, doesn’t that mean it says something so profound and pure and hurtful that we soften the impact by calling it a cliché?”
I don’t answer and she lets it go. As we drive, Ashley’s deep in thought and so am I. She’s right: home isn’t where you think, because the heart takes you places you never imagined.
10
MONDAY, JULY 21
“Have you ever seen anything cooler than these?” Reid asks me, showing off another new pair of fancy sunglasses with slick silver frames, diamonds, and a brown tint.
Before I can say anything, Reid continues, “They’re Gucci. Worth five fucking bills.
” We’re driving over to his house. His mom’s at work, and Reid wants some private time with me. Mom thinks I’m with Evan. That’s because Ashley won’t lie for me anymore, or rather, I won’t ask her to lie for me. She stood up for me and my mom, so I can’t ask anything more of her.
Reid told me that some of the girls who hang around his house are jealous of me, so I’m usually there before the party starts, like today. The way they glare at me, especially Angie, seems to be saying I’m not good enough for Reid—who now seems to be reading my mind.
“Hey, I told Tony that I didn’t want Angie at my house anymore,” Reid says as we turn down Jennings Road. He’s driving, but I’ve got one hand on the wheel.
“Really?”
“I told him he had to choose: he could come over, but not with her,” Reid boasts. “I told him that he’d be better off without that lying skank.”
“Ouch,” I say, then laugh.
“She’s always spreading rumors about me that aren’t true,” he says.
My fingers move from the steering wheel to the side of his face. “Drama queen.”
“That’s why you’re so cool, Danielle,” he continues as we pull down his street. “You’re so mature for your age.”
I don’t say anything; instead I kiss him on the side of his unshaven face. He doesn’t turn for a full frontal kiss because we’re both stunned to see Vic and Evan sitting together on the curb in front of Reid’s house.
“You’re not welcome here!” Reid shouts to Vic as he pulls into the driveway.
“We need to talk,” Vic shouts back, moving toward the Viper.
“Danielle, this doesn’t concern you,” Reid says sharply, then points at the passenger door. No sooner do I get out than Vic gets in.
I walk to the curb where Evan’s still sitting.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, sitting a few feet from him.
“I’d ask the same thing,” Evan responds.
“You don’t understand,” I counter.
“I understand you’ve been telling your mom that you’re spending time with me,” Evan says, his voice cracking.
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