Expiration Date

by Kristin Coley

  He nodded, swallowing hard, but didn’t hurry to cram the last of the food in his mouth. I knew I was staring again, but couldn’t stop myself as my eyes traced the contours of his face. He was a puzzle to me, a mystery, and I was suddenly Nancy Drew. He looked normal. Strong jaw, full lips, straight nose with the tiniest bump, and a rather prominent Adam’s apple, I noticed when he swallowed.

  Nothing about him screamed, “I’ll live forever!” So why couldn’t I see when he died? Why was there no countdown to the moment of his death? What was special about him?

  He eyed me cautiously and I realized I’d been glaring at him. I smoothed my expression and closed my eyes briefly, wishing for a hole to swallow me up. Instead, I let out a sigh, opened my eyes and told him, “We need to go now. We have 47 seconds.”

  We stood up and he took my tray, leaving my hands positioned awkwardly in front of me. I lowered my arms and followed him, his backpack slung over one shoulder and I couldn’t help but notice how well his jeans fit.

  “Which way?” His words startled me and I realized I’d been caught staring once again, this time at his butt. The wry smile on his face made it seem like he didn’t mind, but I couldn’t stop my flustered reaction.

  “Straight ahead, the room that says Morrison,” I bit out, stomping in front of him.

  “I threw my schedule away,” he drawled behind me. “Figured I could trust you not to lose me.”

  I glanced behind me to see his own gaze drifting up and he gave me an easy smile. I couldn’t help my own answering smile as I nodded. Touché.

  When the final bell rang for the day, I was one of the first ones out of my seat. It took me a second to realize Houston had trailed behind me, and only when I got to the door and saw it was now pouring rain did I stop.

  “Ugh,” I moaned, not wanting to walk home in the downpour. Houston seemed to gather what the problem was as he stood next to me.

  “Want a ride home?” He asked and my pride wanted to tell him that I didn’t accept rides from strangers, but my desire to not get soaking wet overrode it. I pressed my lips together, struggling, and he smiled.

  “I don’t bite.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing,” I retorted without an ounce of forethought. I winced as I heard myself say it but he only laughed. Loudly. Garnering all kinds of unwanted attention to us.

  “In that case,” he started and I held up my hand.

  “I don’t even want to know,” I warned him. “Forget I said that.”

  “I’ll pretend to forget,” he answered, settling his backpack on his shoulder.

  “Good enough,” I sighed, my cheeks once again hot.

  “So, ride?”

  At that moment, the rain seemed to get heavier and a loud crack of thunder made me jump.

  “Yes,” I gritted out, uncomfortable with the idea of being at his mercy. For all I knew he could be some kind of supernatural being who was already dead and that’s why I didn’t see an expiration date. Visions of vampires and werewolves drifted through my mind as we made a mad dash to an older model pickup truck. The lock released right as I was grabbing the handle and I was grateful for automatic locks all of a sudden. My beat up old car had manual locks and windows and was barely held together with duct tape.

  “Whew, it is coming down.” He shook his head like a dog as he cranked the engine. Cold air started blowing immediately and he reached over to switch on the heat. “Too wet for cold air,” he replied to my look. I agreed and reached for my seatbelt.

  “Nice truck,” I commented, some vague memory of Amber telling me guys liked to be complimented on their cars drifting through my mind.

  “Thanks, my dad gave it to me when I got my license.” He sent a wry grin my way as he added, “He got the new truck.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that my dad had wrapped our car around a tree one night and lost his license. Or that the only car we could afford was a clunker currently in the shop and I needed it back so I could go get groceries.

  My personal life was just that, personal. I felt no need to advertise my home life to the people around me. But I did occasionally wonder what would happen to my dad when I was dead and gone, if no one was around to feed him and make sure he went to work. Would he continue to go through his day in a hungover haze? Or would he sober up? Or in my darkest moments I wondered if he’d give up completely and succeed the next time he crashed into a tree.

  “Hey,” his voice startled me out of my mental wanderings and I saw we were at the exit. “Which way? I can’t say I’m really familiar with the town yet.”

  “Right,” I answered and clarified, “Take a right.”

  He flipped his blinker on and eased onto the road, driving cautiously, to my approval. Visibility was nothing as the rain came down in sheets and I was careful to give directions well ahead of time. When we finally pulled up to my house, he looked around curiously.

  “I think I live near here,” he told me.

  “Yeah, what street?” I asked, knowing I’d be able to tell him if he did.

  “Rosemount.”

  “Yep,” I pointed to the corner. “Take a right and then a left at the next stop sign.”

  He nodded as I set my hand on the door to open it.

  “Thanks for showing me around today,” he finally said and I nodded. I didn’t know what to say to him. How to explain my strange staring or abrupt silences. He was adorable and I knew by the next day he’d be hanging with Amber’s crowd, leaving my curiosity unsatisfied. As the silence lingered, I cleared my throat.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him, flinging open the door and running for the slight protection of the porch. Once I’d made it, I glanced back at his truck to see him shift it into reverse and make his way down my driveway. I fumbled with my key wondering if Dad would be inside. One of his coworkers was nice enough to give him a ride usually so I never knew when he’d be home.

  The inside was dark and silent so I made my way to the living room and his recliner. Both were empty and I let out the breath I was holding. Hopefully, that meant he’d got a full day’s work in and that he wasn’t at the bar with his friends.

  A couple of hours later, I was at the table working on the night’s pile of homework when I heard the front door open. Dad made his way to the kitchen, his entire stance indicating his exhaustion.

  “Smells good,” he offered, patting my shoulder on his way to the fridge. The door opened and I heard the crack as he opened his first beer of the night.

  “Garbage soup,” I told him, knowing I really needed to go to the store because when I made garbage soup we were running out of stuff to eat. Garbage soup was my classy way of saying soup made out of whatever frozen leftovers I could find and dumping it in a pot together. It did actually taste better than it sounded.

  “Going to the store soon?” He asked, grabbing a bowl and ladling some. “Did you eat?”

  I shook my head and stretched. “No, I was waiting for you.” He gave me the bowl he’d dished and grabbed another. I shoved my books aside and took a spoonful. “Not my worst.” I nodded to the plate on the stove. “There’s cornbread too.”

  He hummed and brought the plate to the table, setting it on my American history textbook. We ate in silence, neither bothering to ask how the other’s day went. After Mom died, all the words in our house had seemed to disappear. Now, we only asked what was necessary. Sometimes, I wanted to say more, but the words dried in my throat every time I thought about it. What could either of us say to make it better? To make the pain of her loss easier?

  Dad stood up and took his bowl to the sink before stopping by the fridge for another beer.

  “We need beer,” he mentioned and I nodded, having already put it on my list. I watched as he headed to the living room and his recliner, knowing he’d turn the TV on and stare at it blankly as he slowly drank himself into oblivion.

  I used to try and get him upstairs, but had given up after a while. He was difficult to move and clumsy when drunk. I cons
idered myself lucky he wasn’t a mean drunk, just a sad one.

  Hours later, I’d finished my homework and cleaned up the kitchen. I stopped in the living room to see the table littered with a dozen cans and Dad softly snoring. I gathered the cans and dumped them in the recycle bin. I padded silently back to him and watched him sleep for a moment. He looked old and even in sleep the sadness wasn’t erased from his face. I leaned down and kissed his cheek, the smell of hops and yeast drifting over me.

  “I love you,” I whispered, stepping back. With a last glance over my shoulder I headed down the hall to my room.

  Chapter Three

  Walking to my locker the next morning I was surprised to find both Amber and Houston standing there waiting. My momentary hope that the day before had been an aberration disappeared as I saw Houston still didn’t have an expiration date. I blinked, but in my normal fashion ignored them until they spoke.

  “So there’s a party this weekend,” Amber gushed. “It’s at Blake’s house after the football game,” she continued when neither of us responded. “We should go.”

  I didn’t say anything since I knew she was talking to Houston when she said, “We should go.” She already knew it was next to impossible to get me to go out anywhere and never to a high school party.

  Houston shifted next to me, leaning a little further into the row of lockers, and if it wasn’t such a crazy thought, I’d almost swear he was trying to hide behind me. I swapped out my books more slowly, actually early this morning since Dad had managed to get himself up this morning and the rain had given me a break.

  “I don’t think so. My parents are pretty strict about things like parties,” Houston finally said when no one else spoke. Amber looked disappointed but nodded since she was familiar with her mom’s current strictness about grades.

  “Well, if you think they’d change their minds, let me know.” She gave us a lingering look before she said, “I better get to class. Martin wanted a word.” She rolled her eyes and disappeared before I could say anything.

  A gusty sigh next to me filled my nose with the scent of peppermint. I slowly looked over to find Houston still standing there, apparently waiting for me.

  “Why are you here?” I asked curiously, having been caught off guard by his presence at my locker. It had sort of made sense when Amber was here, but since he hadn’t left with her, I was now at a loss.

  “You’re my guide,” he replied, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder as I zipped mine.

  “I was your guide yesterday,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, but you don’t think I remember where everything is already, do you?”

  “Kinda, yeah,” I admitted, eyeing him. I wasn’t the only one eyeing him either, as girls giggled as they passed us and guys did that chin nod thing to him. He was definitely hanging with the wrong girl. “At least I would have thought you’d find a more popular guide,” I added, nodding to the stream of people passing by.

  He looked uncomfortable for a second and it dawned on me he’d probably received numerous offers already. A stubborn look replaced the uncomfortable one as he said, “You’re my guide.”

  “Alright then.” I’d yet to satisfy my curiosity and if he wanted to hang around me then I wouldn’t complain too much.

  The day went pretty much like the day before, ending as we stood outside staring at the rain once again.

  “I thought it was over,” I sighed, thinking about the wet walk ahead of me.

  “Yeah, does it always rain this much around here?”

  I shook my head as I said, “No, not usually.”

  “Wanna ride?” He offered and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His face remained the same as he stared out at the rain, nothing implying it was more than an offer he’d extend to anyone.

  “Yeah,” I gave in with a sigh, my desire to not get soaked overriding my disinclination of accepting another favor from him.

  “Don’t sound so grateful,” he said, his small smile taking away any offense I might have taken. I rolled my eyes and hitched my backpack up, prepared to run for his truck. “Race you?” He offered and instead of replying I took off. “No fair,” he shouted and I laughed.

  “You have longer legs. It’s totally fair,” I called back over my shoulder, sliding to a stop at the door of his pickup. I tugged on the handle but it didn’t open and I realized he hadn’t popped the locks. A devilish laugh greeted me as he dashed to the other side and I heard the lock disengage finally. I yanked open the door and gave him a dirty look as I slipped in.

  He shrugged, cranking the engine. “That’s what you get for cheating.”

  “It’s not cheating! There’s no competition between your long legs and mine,” I argued, pulling my seatbelt across me.

  “Uh huh,” he murmured, backing out. “You mind if we swing by the store on the way home? My mom asked me to pick up some milk and bread.”

  “Do I have a choice?” I asked dryly.

  “Yeah, I’ll drop you off first if you want,” he answered quickly, giving me a cautious glance. I shook my head, actually glad he was going to the store since I still didn’t have my car and needed a few things myself.

  “If you don’t mind me getting some things, I’m good.”

  “Fine with me.” He gave me a sheepish look and I lifted my eyebrow. “How do you get to the store?”

  I laughed and told him. We were quiet as he drove and I thought about a question I’d been mulling over. I’d mostly discounted the supernatural idea over why he didn’t have an expiration date and moved onto more probable guesses. The issue was how to bring up my question without sounding psycho.

  “Have you ever died?” I blurted out and as his head jerked toward me so did the truck. “Mailbox,” I shouted and he corrected the vehicle. I winced as I realized our near accident was my fault. Subtle wasn’t really my strong suit.

  “Have I died? Is that what you asked me?” His tone was disbelieving and I gave a tiny nod since when he put it that way it did seem a little crazy to ask that when we barely knew each other. “No, I haven’t.” He finally answered, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief as he passed the turnoff to my house. Even after my crazy question he was willing to go to the store with me. That had to count for something right?

  “Are you going to explain?” He gave me a quick glance and I opened my mouth then shut it. How was I supposed to explain that I thought maybe he didn’t have an expiration date because he’d already died and been brought back? No doubt, he’d cart me to the nearest mental health hospital without delay.

  “I thought I’d ask questions to get to know you,” I replied carefully.

  “And that’s what you started with.” It wasn’t a question that time but by then he’d pulled into a parking space so I unbuckled my seatbelt. The rain had let up a little on our drive so I hopped out.

  He eyed me, but didn’t comment again on my question as we walked in. I grabbed a buggy and he gave me a look.

  “How many groceries do you need?” He asked and I gave him a bright smile.

  “A few.”

  Half an hour later, he was trailing behind me with his milk and bread in his arms as I finished at the meat counter.

  “One last stop,” I promised him and he nodded, his eyes curious. I didn’t really want to get the next item on my list with him there but I didn’t really have a choice. I mean, I had a choice, but I already knew what it would be. We passed the health aisle and he glanced down it, but I kept going until we hit the liquor aisle.

  I grabbed two cases of the cheap beer and loaded them.

  “I’m not old enough to buy beer,” Houston informed me. He watched as I kept going, ignoring his comment. “Are you old enough?” He asked pointedly, glancing around.

  “Nope,” I told him, wheeling the cart around.

  “Then how do you think we’re getting out of here with that?”

  “I know someone.”

  “Why are you buying beer anyway?” He tugged on my ar
m as I kept going. “Hey, answer me. I drove you here and, trust me, if my parents found out I was with some chick buying beer they’d revoke my driving privileges.”

  “It’s not for me, okay?” I answered with a huff, stopping since he wasn’t letting go. The heat from his hand branded my arm, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he gave me an accusing stare. I relaxed my expression since I could see how it looked to him. “They know me here. They let me buy it since it’s for my dad.”

  “Your dad can’t come get it himself?”

  It was a logical next question and one I didn’t want to answer. So I hedged.

  “He works crazy hours, my car is in the shop. It seemed easier to get it now since I’m at the store and you were kind enough to let me get everything I need.” I waved at my full buggy and he gave a short nod toward it.

  “Yeah, that looks like when my mom goes shopping for the family.”

  I caught his implication and shifted. I was used to my small town where everyone knew about my mom’s death and my dad’s drinking. I didn’t go crying about it to people, but everyone knew. They’d brought casseroles when the cancer took over our lives and then when she’d died. They’d whispered and shrugged when my dad lost his license, but so long as we stayed below the radar no one did anything.

  “I do the shopping. It’s my thing.”

  “Including buying enough beer for a frat party.”

  “Buying in bulk is cheaper?” I offered, keeping the smile on my face since I knew this wouldn’t last my dad the entire week. I just didn’t want to arouse anymore suspicion. It was why I alternated stores every week. However, it seemed like he was seriously questioning me now.

  “I promise its fine,” I told him, barely keeping the pleading note from my voice.

  “Yeah, but you also aren’t offering to put it back,” he snapped, walking off. I pushed the heavy buggy after him, relieved he’d let it go and slightly disgusted with myself for the position I’d put him in.