Wesley

by Leanne Davis

  “Get ready to lift, pull, and squeeze that damn bitch into this small space,” Ryder says, pointing upwards at the motor still hanging there like a giant swing from the barn roof.

  I laugh. “Okay.”

  And we start. We struggle and sweat, compatibly working together with very few words, and it’s good. It’s surprisingly enjoyable, and a sense of satisfaction fills me when we get the motor with all its parts back in place with nothing left over, making us all cheer and high five.

  “Damn. I wasn’t sure this would work,” Ryder admits, and we all smile and laugh, which is new for me. I’ve never shared stuff like this with guys. It’s rather compelling and… and yeah, kinda nice.

  Ryder sighs. “Well, I guess it’s time to give it a washing.”

  “Now?” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “You like that part, old man. Enjoy.” He spins around with a good-natured grin.

  “He’s right, I do. Thank you for the help, Wesley.”

  “Yeah.” I follow behind Wyatt out the barn doors, finding myself behind Wyatt. Alone. At night. In the yard. We stay quiet for a few steps. I can’t take it anymore. “Why… why did you let me walk back in here?”

  “You mean because you jacked my girlfriend?”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yet,” he grumbles. He leans down and grabs a pebble, which he casually throws. Damn the guy has an arm.

  I don’t snicker or come back with a cocky claim. I can’t. It’s all too much for me.

  “She’s right. We were always friends. Still are. We haven’t been able to say that to each other. It took fucking you to do that. Whatever.”

  “And you don’t want to kill me now?”

  “I don’t think you’re going to rob my parents or hurt my mom anymore.”

  “This was all about your mom?”

  “Fuck, yeah. What do I know about you? She saw her young self in you. I thought she was blinded to your real intentions by her nostalgia. I didn’t want to see her hurt. What do I know about you?”

  “What convinced you otherwise?”

  He sighs. “I saw the marks on your back. I asked Dani about them.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t tell me that part. But I remembered when Wyatt and I passed each other in the hallway. Usually, Wyatt scowled at me.

  “She told me things were done to you. You grew up to become the opposite. Not a bully. Just a kid trying to survive or whatever.”

  I don’t answer. We don’t look at each other. I clear my throat. “Well, if you hurt Jacey, I will kick your fucking ass. So—”

  “I’m not into your friend. But I appreciate it. I mean, I feel that way about my friend. So, agreed. We ass-kick each other only for Dani or Jacey.”

  “What? Like a truce?”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Mom’s all hung up on you. She was in tears while worrying over you, so I figured out real quick, I’m going to have accept you and make sure you treat her right. So yeah, don’t run off again. You owe her that, Wesley-whoever-the-fuck-you-are.”

  “I won’t purposely hurt her. She’s…”

  “I know. The best mom.”

  “Yeah.” We don’t shake hands or look at each other. But a huge brick lifts off my shoulders. One that I didn’t know was weighing me down. I guess maybe it all weighed me down.

  Chapter 15

  DANI

  We give each other huge, goofy smiles the minute our gazes meet over the kitchen counter in the café.

  “Hi.” I sound all breathless.

  He smiles back as huge as I did.

  “Hi.” And he doesn’t sound like his usual confident, cocky self. Then we spend the next eight hours exchanging looks and more smiles, stares and toothy hellos. There’s a discreet brushing of our hands and body parts. It’s so hot. It makes me all giddy. Something Wyatt and I never had so it feels foreign to me. I always thought myself too much of a planner to act or feel like this. I thought my awkwardness precluded me from flirting.

  After two hours separation, I pick him up at seven. His eyes light up like I was a supermodel strutting towards him. The shyness I haven’t felt with him in a while surges through me. We drive into Portland for dinner. It’s casual, easy, and fun. We don’t touch on any of the subjects that have dominated our conversations recently. Other than for him to tell me about the truce Wyatt and he made. And that he liked it. A lot. I touch his hand at hearing that. “I told you. And he’s in denial. He’s got his eye on Jacey. Where was she last night?”

  “I have no idea. But she makes friends easily. I’m sure Wyatt didn’t like that.” Wesley smiles a little and replies, “She’s not exactly suffering from my hang-ups.”

  “Oh.” I don’t see the need to comment on Jacey. What interests me is the casual mention of Jacey and Wyatt by Wesley. It shocks me he’d say so. He is quieter than other times together, and I sense his awkwardness, but it’s still good. So good. When I take him home, I don’t clarify it’s to the Kincaids’ home anymore. I just say home, and he doesn’t correct me. I like that.

  I stop my car. “So, I’m not going to walk you to the door,” I tease him. He rolls his eyes. “Because I used to walk their son to the door as recently as last week. I think some time should pass before I show up as your date. Yeah?”

  He nods. His hands tap on the armrest. He’s so nervous. I get it.

  I let go of the steering wheel, lean across the console, and his eyes meet mine, growing larger. I smile and touch his hand.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  He nods. I lean forward so our mouths touch. Oh, it’s so nice. We fall into each other, and his hand trails up towards my hair, behind my ear. So good. I love it. I keep my mouth closed. For a long time, feelings swirl inside me. Heat starts to percolate between us. That’s exactly when I break it off. I kiss his cheek twice and the top of his nose. He rolls his eyes as I grin, but I don’t say anything. I let him go. He jumps out, his body lithe and long, still so seductive, and all of it calls out to me.

  We date. For real date. We go to the movies and dinners, and we hang out at the parks or beaches around the area. We flirt at work. We laugh when we’re alone. I have plenty of money from the café and only a few bills to pay. His money is still going towards his punishment and whatever he saves to go with him when he has to live out of a backpack again. So, yeah, I pay. I drive. I love that he doesn’t get hung up on that.

  We kiss. A lot. Each date we kiss goodnight. It’s lovely and sweet and sometimes, our hands travel to each other’s waists and hair. There is something hot about all the chaste kissing and touching. For me, it’s relearning how to kiss and flirt. It also makes the anticipation so much greater. Just the touch of his hand on my face has my blood rushing south and inflaming me. I never felt like this.

  We can talk for hours. Our differences may have masked some very real commonalities, but we find that our deep connection is strong and slowly revealing itself.

  Weeks drift by. I know it. I am very aware of the limited time. I know he’s going to leave. I don’t lose my sense of reality, as much as I might want to. I understand he’s not meant for staying here. He’s not meant for leading a normal life. He’s not meant for me.

  Life never works that tidily.

  Wyatt leaves for school, earlier than most students because of his football practice. He comes home on weekends, and Jacey stays on with the Kincaids. I have become friends with her. There’s a quick, easy rapport between us. She’s outgoing, friendly, and likeable. I’m sure she’s never met a stranger, she can so easily charm people into liking her. Yet her charm is real and never manipulative. I also like her because she evidently loves and adores Wesley. There is nothing but brotherly affection behind it all.

  School starts for me at the end of September, which is in three weeks. I know it’s coming. I know Wesley is close to being done here and that he’ll leave. But still I pretend that there is nothing else but now, and Wesley in my life.

  WESLEY

  It’s an early Tuesday evening when Ryder co
mes down the stairs. Tara is in the kitchen. She’s furiously whipping up a meal. I stare at Ryder descending the stairs. He holds my backpack. All tidy and closed up. I’m sure they never touched it. I stare at it as if I’ve never seen it before and glance back. Tara is whipping the batter she has in a bowl even harder. Not looking at me. Or at Ryder. Or at the pack. Not at anything.

  I rise to my feet. Ryder lugs it over to me. He stops before me and pushes it at my feet. “You earned your money. You were exemplary in doing so. Tara was right to believe in you and I’m glad she all but threatened me to make you stay. You’ve made me very proud, Wesley.”

  Then Ryder withdraws his wallet and pulls out a bunch of hundred-dollar bills. For real. Cash. He puts the money out and I stare at it for a long moment. I glance up at him, and he nods at it. “It’s all yours Wesley, well earned. I hope it lasts you a long time.” My mouth is dry, and I feel a lump in it that keeps me from swallowing right. I finally take the money, and in that moment, Ryder clasps my hand and shakes it as he sets his other hand over it. “It’s been so good having you here.”

  Tara suddenly slams her spoon down on the counter. “Good Lord, Ryder. It’s dinner time. He’s not just leaving. Calm down with the dramatics. Yes, you earned your money. Congrats. Mrs. Carson was paid the grand. Yeah, she was very happy and touched. We told her the whole story, and she was amazed you did all that. Now, you have your pack in your possession again, so you have your life back. It’s all yours. But right now? It’s time for dinner. Please wash up.”

  I nod.

  Ryder glances at me. “Tara… He doesn’t have—”

  “He does. It’s going to get cold. He eats more than a horse every day. So yeah, he does. Sit.” She flips a hand towards the kitchen table. I smile at Ryder and do what she says. We eat. It’s become normal with these two. She asks about work and Dani and she tells me a little story about Wyatt’s football practice. Odd that I should care. Jacey walks in while we’re eating and flops down in a chair.

  “What’s your sack of crap doing out?”

  “I’m off probation.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows curl down. “So, you’re like… leaving now?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Soon.” I don’t know. I have to. What would I stay and do? Start hating the job in another six months? Washing dishes. Sure, I love Tara’s cooking. I even like their company, but six months? Hell, we all know I’ll be crawling up the walls. This is all still a novelty. And I’ll be first to admit it’s really good for me. She showed me some life lessons I needed to learn. Badly. And look at that, I learned them. Which means I’m not staying here! Oh, hell no. No way.

  “Yeah, so I should go, too.” Jacey’s words crash land me back to right now.

  “You have nowhere to go and no pack to sustain yourself.” Tara answers, her tone sounding hollow.

  “What do you suggest I do? Stay here? You’re not the local halfway house.”

  Tara gets up, stomping over to the sink. “Well, why not? Why can’t you stay? I invited you. You need a place to stay. I have four empty bedrooms with no kids here. Just stay, Jacey. I’d rather you not go out fucking strangers and falling into drugs and stealing and getting strangled and beaten up again. Do you really think that’s any kind of life?”

  She jerks her head back, staring at me. I shrug. I didn’t know they realized she had marks on her neck. She lowers her voice and takes a breath as she glances at Jacey, realizing she’s tough but tired. So tired of how she’s had to live just to survive. I get how she feels—the constant stress of being on guard, the anxiety and depression of having nothing and no one to care about you. It is exhausting. Being at the Kincaids’, you can relax, and it quickly made me, and now her, soft. Safe. Spoiled. Maybe the thought of going back to how she was before is something she can’t imagine doing now. “I know what it’s like out there for a teenage girl as pretty as you are, Jacey. Just stay here. Until you have something better. There’s no commitment. Just a few rules. So, what’s the big deal? Just stay.”

  “Without Wesley?”

  Tara turns her blue eyes to me, tears shimmering there. I swallow over the stupid lump again. I’ve never had a woman cry at the thought of me leaving before. “Yes, without Wesley.”

  “Tara?”

  She looks at Jacey.

  “Thank you.”

  Tara sniffs and nods. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

  “You know I appreciate what you did. What this became to me. You know, you were the first—” I try to let Tara know how much staying here with them has meant to me.

  She wipes her tears. “Don’t canonize me yet as saint. I just liked you. My son doesn’t live here much. Empty nest and all. You all made me feel needed again. Anyway, I know, Wesley. I know. Will you at least contact us? Let us know sometimes where you are? How you are? Beyond a Facebook post?”

  “That’s all you want?”

  She uses the back of her hand to rub her eyes. The tears still stream down. For me. She really cares I’m leaving. “I never wanted anything from you, Wesley. Just a good life for you.”

  I choke up but suck it down. I nod. “Thank you, Tara. I will never forget what you did. You and Ryder.”

  “I hope it won’t be the last we ever hear from you.”

  “No. Nah. It’ll be nice to have someone to contact. Call once in a while. I’ll come back through. You know how it is.”

  “I do.”

  It sounds exhausting. The walking. The weight. The unknown.

  NO! That’s where I’m the most me. Right inside my comfort zone. What the hell? A little small-town family isn’t so tempting that I can suddenly morph into their lifestyle. I’ll end up miserable for real. I have to leave. Wanderlust. Claustrophobia. All of it.

  She moves to do the dishes. I sidle next to her, and she smiles up at me, grateful as we finish the chore together. The kitchen is quiet with Ryder and Jacey and me and Tara. When she’s done, she suddenly turns and flings her arm around me. She’s never done that before. She’s never really touched me. I let her. I pat her shoulder with a small thank you. She steps back, stares at me and then walks away. She gets it. She knows. I’ll be gone soon. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. I’ll just leave and be gone from their lives. There won’t be any long goodbyes. She gets that.

  And then it’s just me alone. I unload the backpack. It’s all there. I repack it carefully. I stuff all my fortune of cash in different places so it can’t be taken from one source. I also find the bag full of freeze-dried meals that I know the Kincaids put there. There are a lot of meals. And expensive, like ten bucks a pop in the store. Plus, counting the money they added, I’m wealthier than I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t realize it until they are in bed. I start up at the dark staircase. I know they didn’t mean for me to know that. They didn’t want my undying gratitude, they just wanted me to have it. It’s their way of understanding me. Helping me. They know this is how I want it. Even if it’s not how they want me to do it. They are not for real. They can’t be. No one is like that. No one is that good. Even though I’ve seen several examples now in Silver Springs.

  The next morning, I leave. I walk to the café, knowing Dani is working. She takes one look at my backpack and she wilts. She holds her hand up to tell me to wait a second. She goes into the kitchen and nods for me to follow her to the picnic table where the employees take their breaks.

  “You finished your hours.” Her tone is hollow.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just like that? You have to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Duh,” she scoffs. “Of course, you have to.”

  “You know I’m not like a normal guy. You know—”

  “I know. You’re destined for nowhere. And not in terms of being a loser, but in that you can’t stand to have a destination as your end goal. And no one. Right? That’s what you believe?” Yeah, undignified anger flashes in her voice.

  “I tried to tell you. I tried to tell you not to break up with Wyatt or do anything that w
ould change your life here. Because I was never going to stay, and I never even considered asking you to go. You can’t live the way that I do.”

  “No. I can’t.” Her voice drops, her shoulders fall, and she glances away. “No, you didn’t lead me on. You are probably the most authentic person I’ve ever known.”

  She sits on the picnic bench. I sit next to her and take her hands. Mine engulf hers, dwarfing her fingers. “Except for that whole stealing from Mrs. Carson thing.”

  She smiles and sets her opposite hand over mine. “Except for that.”

  She leans her head against my bicep.

  “We could never last.”

  “I know.” Her head nods against my arm. Quiet falls for a long while between us.

  When I speak again, it’s after ten minutes of us clenching hands and leaning against each other. “Just like that you go?”

  “Yeah. That’s how it works. I just go.”

  “Where?”

  My shoulders bump with little energy behind the action. “Downriver. Probably hit the ocean and go south. It’s a lot nicer in winter closer to Southern California, maybe into the southwest somewhere before winter sets in.”

  DANI

  His words, his plans, his total lack of any real plan only make my head swim. I can’t get over the abstractness of his life. And having no destination. Ever. Not for real. Or for long. I can’t really get my head around what he does. This “traveling” is more like wandering. How can Wesley, this world citizen who is so out of my normal scope of behavior, also be the same man I’ve spent three months intensely getting to know? There’s an honesty between us, something I’ve never had with anyone else my age that I find in Wesley. Yet, with regard to his traveling lifestyle, there is no one more opposite to me. I’m not sure how to combine those factors. Even though I understand why he retreated into it in the first place. It was and is a better life than he’d ever been exposed to in foster care. But now? What if there were something better, something right here?