Love and Vandalism

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  “Trying to get rid of me already?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “No, it’s just…” How do I say this without making it sound like I’m only lowering my guard and letting him into my life because he’s leaving at the end of the summer? “You eventually do need to go home, right?”

  He takes a swig from a glass bottle with cucumber wedges floating at the bottom. “I don’t know. There’s a chance I might decide to stay here.”

  I shove the rest of my PB&J half into my mouth to hide my expression. “You graduated already?” The question is muffled by sandwich.

  “One year to go. I can finish up here at New Paltz High School.”

  “Ugh. That sadistic hellhole.”

  “The place can’t be that terrible.”

  Actually, school wasn’t so bad before everyone turned phony over my mom dying and I had to go full-on antisocial, but I’m not telling Hayes this. I shrug. “I’m sure you’d do just fine—jump into sports, join a bunch of clubs, and make heaps of friends.”

  “Will you be my friend?” He bats his eyes at me playfully.

  I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t do friendship.”

  “Of course you do.” He gestures to the picnic lunch in front of us. “You’re doing it right now.”

  “This is… I don’t know what this is, but it’s temporary.”

  “Unless I stay here.”

  “Did you really leave that big of a mess for yourself back home?”

  “No. But I did leave a lot of unhealthy ‘brother’ bonds based on episodes of binge drinking that I’m better off letting go of. Even going out to run around and paint graffiti usually meant getting bombed first, which was just stupid and the reason we got into trouble with that gang.”

  “You’d get bombed to go bomb?” I joke.

  His expression stays serious. “There’s no good reason to risk my sobriety when I’m going to college in another year anyway.”

  “So you’re being real right now? You might actually move here?” My spark of happiness at this thought disturbs me, and I stamp it out like an old campfire.

  “Well, if I do, will you be my friend?”

  “Let’s not get carried away defining things, okay?”

  He laughs. “Okay. We’ll just go with the clichéd ‘it’s complicated,’ and leave it at that.”

  “That’s exactly what I was trying to explain to my friend Kat the other day—oh shit. Kat.”

  I grab my phone and hit the little icon with her face on it. Including Kat, there are only three Favorites on my phone, and one of those is Dad, who I’m not speaking to. The third one is Hayes, you know, for convenience, but he doesn’t need to know this.

  Kat picks up on the first ring. “Hey, girl, talk to me.”

  “Did today’s shipment come in yet?” Hayes is watching my face as I try to keep my voice calm and casual.

  “What?”

  “Um, the supply shipment? I forgot it was being delivered today, and I need you to do me a favor.”

  “The supplies came in, sure. Ken’s in the back unpacking the boxes right now. Of course, he’s taking his time—”

  “Listen to me, Kat. I put in a special order.” I stand up and start pacing. “I have the cash all set to make the purchase when I come in, but nobody can know what’s in those extra boxes.”

  “How am I supposed to stop him? If I volunteer to inventory the shipment myself, you know he’ll be suspicious.”

  “That could… I mean, you can at least… No, you’re right. He’ll immediately know something’s up if you volunteer to do extra work.” I wrap one arm over my head. “I am so screwed.”

  There’s a pause, and then Kat says, “Leave it to me, sweets. I’ve got your back.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I have an idea. Which supply company?”

  “OhmyGod, thank you! There will be a decent-size box that will say it’s from Scrap Yard and two big, heavy boxes from Krylon. Are you sure about this?”

  “Leave it to me. I’ll see you for your shift in a few hours.”

  “You are a giant cherry lifesaver, Kat. Good luck and I owe you big.”

  “You have no idea how big you are about to owe me, but you’ll get me back.”

  “Yes. I will. I promise to get you back.”

  I thank her once more before hanging up. She didn’t even ask what the supplies were for, but I’m pretty sure she’ll guess if she looks up Scrap Yard. It’s a graffiti supply store in the city that I once took the Trailways bus to visit by myself. It was smaller than I’d expected, but of course it was packed with pure awesomeness.

  Even if Kat doesn’t google it or check inside the boxes, I’m pretty sure Krylon is universally known for selling spray paint.

  I tell Hayes, “Kat is probably about to figure out my secret identity.”

  “No. I liked being the only one who knew you as Graffiti Girl.”

  I give a superhero pose, with my fists on my waist and my head held high. “Picture me with a cape,” I say as I use one arm to mime a flow of fabric blowing behind me. “Graffiti Girl, to the rescue!”

  Hayes says, “To be honest though, I don’t think this is such a terrible thing. I’ve been thinking maybe Graffiti Girl needs to come clean. If you open up to your dad about your lions, it could be the first step to help you two start healing your relationship.”

  “What? No!” My arms drop to my sides. “Why the hell would I tell my dad? Kat will keep my secret. She’s already covering for me with our boss.”

  “Listen, Rory.” He’s eating strawberries with a metal fork, which seems a bit formal for a picnic. “I go to a lot of AA meetings at all different times during the day. I get to hear a lot of people’s stories. Each of us is there because we lost something due to our drinking. Some lost their jobs, some their cars…” He rolls his eyes and raises his hand. “Some lost their whole identities. But the thing that people regret losing the most? The trust of their loved ones. Those relationships are what truly matter, and once they’re gone, they’ll never be the same again.”

  The adrenaline from my frenzied call to Kat settles into my nerve endings, and I turn on him. “Are you freaking kidding me? My dad has a secret relationship with some woman, and you think I’m the one who needs to risk everything and confess to him about my graffiti?”

  Hayes stands to look me in the eye. “The way you acted in that restaurant was wrong, Rory. There’s no other way of seeing it. I completely understand why you flipped out, but you’re the one who should be apologizing.”

  “This isn’t any of your business.”

  “It is because I care about you. If your dad finds out what you’ve been up to, it will change things between you two forever.”

  “Good! I want things changed. You have no idea what it’s been like, living under his thumb all this time.”

  “I get that you feel like he’s trying to control you, but he can’t be all bad.”

  I can feel the pressure building as Hayes continues to undermine my frustration. “I’ve always hated my dad.” Even as I say it, I can feel it isn’t the truth, but I double down on my lie. “I can’t wait to never see him again.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Says the guy who wants to move ninety miles north of all his problems. Are you seriously going to lecture me, Mr. It’s Complicated? I’ll bet that could describe all your relationships, huh?”

  “Rory, come on. You know I want us to be together. I just need to finish my step work.”

  “Oh. My. God!” I try to control my volume because I’m afraid someone will hear us from three miles away if I release my full rage.

  First, he completely disregards how impossible my dad is, and now he assumes I’m just pining away for some big, fat, fairy-tale happy ending with him.

  “You think you’re some sort
of prince who rode in on his rainbow-shitting unicorn to rescue me? I do not want a relationship with you, Hayes. I wanted a simple hookup and then you got all in my business and now you won’t stop trying to get into my head.”

  “Rory, wait, I didn’t—”

  But my wild lions are roaring and they refuse to be tamed. I practically shout, “I’m in control here, and I say this is no longer complicated or complex. This is very simple. Good-bye.”

  I storm back into the cabin, and as soon as I see the wall Hayes and I have been working on together, I collapse in tears. I don’t even know what just happened. His “dandy lion” stands there, mocking me politely.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Rory, you okay?”

  I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible. “Go away.”

  “Rory? I’m coming in.”

  My sobs are getting worse, and I can’t pull myself together enough to respond. My feelings are rising up faster than I can shove them down, like some game of emotional whack-a-mole.

  Dad has a girlfriend. *Whack.*

  Hayes is taking Dad’s side. *Whack.*

  Kat is taking risks for me that could wreck our friendship. *Whack.*

  My mom is gone. My mom is gone. My mom is gone. *Whack-whack-whack.*

  The door starts to swing open, and I slide backward so I’m blocking it. “Go away, Hayes. Go back to Long Island or wherever you want. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

  “Rory, I can hear you crying in there. You can’t expect me to—”

  I stand up and grab his backpack, quickly swing the door open, and fling it directly at his head. I close the door before I can see whether or not I hit him. “Go. Away.”

  Too much caffeine is obviously bad for me anyway.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anger has eclipsed whatever motivated that tearful outburst moment, and I get busy organizing my cans. It’s too bad I can’t quite picture Kat up there on top of the water tower with me because I feel certain she would never betray my trust.

  Or suggest my asshole father is somehow right about keeping his girlfriend a secret from me.

  Dad texted me earlier to ask if we can please talk. When I didn’t respond, he said he’s putting away the laptop with Mom’s videos. He thinks taking a break from listening to her will help my healing process.

  It’s a good thing I’ve already copied them onto a jump drive that I keep in the back of my top drawer, right near all Mom’s jewelry.

  I can envision the exhibit she described in her suicide note: Monitors lined up in a row with her videos playing in a loop. Photographs of the crime scene blown up and arranged on the ground for visitors to either walk over or around as they choose. It would be a powerful installation.

  Mom had no way of knowing I’d wreck her suicide scene before it got captured on film.

  When I open the door and step out of my cabin an hour later to head to my shift at Danny’s, I’m surprised to find Hayes still sitting there on that giant rock. His backpack rests neatly at his feet while he reads a book. The same pose I saw him in the first day we met.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I couldn’t just leave you when you were that upset, Rory.” He nods toward the cabin. “Sounds like you took out some of your anger on those cans.”

  I think of how I’ve been slamming things around. I hadn’t realized he was still out here listening. Most people leave after you scream at them to go away and fling their stuff in their faces.

  I push past him and head toward my car. “Well, I didn’t off myself, if that’s what you were worried about. You’re free to go now.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that. I just… Come on, Ro. I want to help.”

  Looking him up and down, I give a small laugh. “You found out how screwed up I am and how messy things are with my dad, and now you want to fix me. No thank you. Go worry about fixing yourself.”

  “Listen, I get how life can change in an instant and it can be scary to realize that everything is already different—all you can do is accept it.”

  “Yeah, well, accept this,” I say, flipping him double birdies and walking down the path to my car.

  I jump in the driver’s seat, and with a crank and a shift, my tires are blowing pine needles while I pull away.

  I try not to look in my rearview mirror, but I can’t resist one quick glance.

  Hayes has followed me to the clearing, and now he slides his pack onto his back with his head hung low as he watches me go.

  I notice his stupid bicep with the goofy coffee-cup face, still grinning at me.

  A vague sense of self-loathing creeps from my car’s air vents. What the hell is wrong with me? This guy just spent the whole morning trying to be nice. He even packed a damn fine picnic.

  I stop the car and slide it into reverse. Hayes straightens as I slowly back up and pull alongside him. I roll down the passenger-side window and he leans through it.

  “Get in,” I say. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I don’t mind walking, really,” he tells me. But he’s opening the car door and climbing inside as he says it. He twists to slide his pack onto the backseat and pulls on his seat belt.

  We don’t talk or play the radio as I drive him to his aunt’s A-frame, but when I pull up the driveway and stop the car, he turns to me.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I asked you to talk to your dad. I didn’t bring it up to upset you. It’s just that I can see where things are headed between you two, and I want to try and spare you a lot of heartache.”

  “Well, go get a hobby. Or better yet, a job. I’ve dealt with my dad my whole life. I don’t need your help now.”

  “From what I see, the two of you are two sides to the same coin. It can be hard to even see each other when you’re so much alike.”

  “I am nothing like him. Get out of my car. I need to get to work.” I press the button to unbuckle his belt and start shoving him toward the door.

  “Easy there.” Without standing, he reaches into the backseat to grab his knapsack.

  Pulling it onto his lap, he pauses a moment to look at me.

  Annoyed, I gesture to the door.

  A small smile plays in his eyes, and without provocation, he leans in quickly and gives me a peck on the cheek. Before I can react, he whispers, “I like you,” and scurries out of the car just as my fist lands on his empty seat.

  I shout after him, “If you ever kiss me again, Hayes Michael Mcallaster, you had better mean it!”

  Of course, I didn’t notice the thin woman wearing all black, standing on the side deck and watching us through her bangs. She’s obviously Hayes’s aunt and completely within earshot.

  Hayes takes long strides to where she’s standing, hangs an arm around her shoulders, and gives me a big, cheesy smile as he waves good-bye. He leans over to whisper something to his aunt, and she smiles and joins him in waving to me as I pull away.

  I cannot believe how frustrating, yet occasionally irresistible, one human being can be. The fact that he would even suggest I tell my dad everything just proves Hayes doesn’t get me. Or my dad.

  All I can hope is that Kat managed to distract Ken from my delivery because, otherwise, there might be a squad car waiting for me at Danny’s. And if Dad is the officer on the scene, I can count on getting arrested today.

  Because inmates, unlike daughters, can be controlled. And if there’s one way I’m even a little bit like my father, it’s that we both need to feel in control.

  • • •

  “Hey there, girlie girl,” Kat greets me when I walk in.

  I rush up to the counter where she’s standing. “How did things go?”

  She widens her eyes and nods her head toward the novelty section. Her voice is totally fake as she says, “Great. Everything here is just great.”

  I lean back and
see Ken on his hands and knees, rooting through a box beside the display. He pulls out a set of blue fairy wings, and after giving them a few test flaps, he hangs them on a hook with the others.

  When he catches me watching him, he smiles. “Hey there, Rory. Glad to see you here on time.”

  I turn to Kat, lean close, and whisper, “What the hell did you do? Get him stoned or something?” Because this is not the way Ken greets any of his employees ever. “Why is he acting so nice?”

  Kat blushes and looks down at her black fingernails. “No. Nothing. I didn’t… I mean, what?” She squints at me.

  “Are you okay?” I squint back at her, and she nods but goes right back to examining her fingernails.

  “Okay,” I say in a fake-slash-loud voice. “Well, I’m just going to go start straightening things up back in the stockroom.”

  I walk casually past Ken and through the swinging doors to the back room.

  As soon as the doors close behind me, I make a mad dash to the tall metal shelves that line two of the stockroom walls and begin rooting for my boxes. I check from back to front, hoping Kat was discreet when she tucked them away.

  But I can’t find them anywhere.

  I’m just starting to panic over the missing boxes when a text comes through from Kat. It says: Don’t worry. Your boxes are secure. Hidden in plain sight.

  What the hell does that mean?

  I’m about to write her back and ask when Ken comes strolling through the swinging stockroom door, his button-down shirt so loose it billows behind him.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see another text from Kat: Alert! Ken’s coming back there.

  Gee. Thanks, girlfriend.

  “Mind if we have a word?” Ken asks as he sits down on a box by the door. He pats the one on the ground beside him. Of course it’s much lower than the one he’s sitting on.

  “What’s up?” I don’t sit down.

  He leans back and crosses his arms, considering a moment, then asks, “Does Kat have any particular interests or hobbies that you know of? Anything specific that comes to mind?”

  Oh crap. What the heck did she do to get him away from my order?