The Homecoming

by Stacie Ramey

  I look straight in her eyes. “You better.”

  She laughs, soft and sweet.

  “I don’t want to have to face your mother and her blender,” I say.

  She makes her face look fake-serious. “I would never do that to you.”

  “Let’s go get you money and send you on your way then.”

  We pull into the bank parking lot. I get out. Every step I take makes me feel like I’m doing the wrong thing. Alarms are blaring in my head, but I take out five hundred dollars. When I get back in the car, I give her all but a hundred.

  “Whoa. This is more than I need. Way more.”

  “You don’t know what you’ll need, and most people underestimate how much things cost anyway.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “I don’t care about the money.” I can’t even look at her. When did I get this needy? “I should come with you.” I chew on my knuckle.

  “Stop sounding so sad. I’ll see you tomorrow. For reals.”

  She gets out at the train station, and I stare at the phone in my hand. Women and their stupid phones and their stupid need to leave me.

  • • •

  Saturday feels like the longest day on record. It pours most of the day, and that just adds to the chill. Dad calls, and I hear Mom speaking to him in soft whispers as Livy and I play our third game of backgammon. I text Pete three times. He’s got to help me out here. I decide to text Allie, even though I know I’m being super needy.

  So. Checking in. You doing OK?

  The dots appear on my phone, letting me know she’s texting me back. And then Livy notices. “Who ya texting?”

  “No one special.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  Finally, Allie’s text comes in.

  Do you ever wonder why you try? Guys suck.

  We talking Nick still?

  No. We broke up. I mean guys in general.

  Not that Max guy, right?

  No. Finally over him. For good.

  Good. Guys suck anyway. All guys.

  That doesn’t sound too promising. Just sent my RISD application. Totally nervous.

  Don’t be. Let me know when you find out.

  K

  I look at my phone and consider telling Allie about drafting class. About the computer program I can’t stop thinking about. I want to ask her if she ever feels like she’s stupid for trying something new or if she ever feels like she can’t do art, but that would be ridiculous. She knows she’s good. And I’ve got to stop being so damned pathetic.

  Mom comes in the kitchen. She looks pale but definitely a little better. She’s got the phone in her hand. “Your dad wants to talk to you guys.”

  Livy puts her hand out. Mom gives her the phone, then looks around the room. Ryan is in front of the television, watching one of his favorite videos, a bunch of kids having a party at Disney World. He laughs at the part where one of the kids jumps into a big swimming pool.

  I look back at the game board but not before seeing Mom catch me smile at Ryan. She goes to the stove and puts on a kettle. I roll the dice, amazed at how natural this feels. If only I wasn’t worried about Emily, I’d be pretty chill. And just like that, Emily’s phone vibrates. I check Mom. She’s reading the newspaper. I take out the phone. Her phone. It’s a text from her parents. Hi, Sweetie. We’re here. How are you?

  I text back. I’m good.

  They text. Good. Talk later. Have fun. Pizza in the freezer.

  I text back. K.

  Mom strides over to the table, mug of tea in her hands. I shove Emily’s phone in my pocket. Livy hands me the house phone.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi. Just wanted to let you know I’m coming in for your award ceremony on Tuesday night.”

  “OK. You guys know I may not even win anything. It’s a huge long shot.”

  Livy rolls, knocks two of my guys off the board. Smiles at me. I smile back, even though I’m totally not feeling it.

  “It’s not about winning. This teacher sees something in you, and that makes us proud. Oh, and I’ll be bringing your Jeep.”

  All of a sudden, I feel a little bit of happiness, like a warm glow inside me that spreads like the sun’s rays.

  “John? You there?”

  I rub my face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You’ve impressed your mother and me. You’ve earned this.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “OK. See you Tuesday night.”

  I can’t help it. Now I’m getting pretty excited about it myself.

  My phone vibrates. Emily. Coming home. Can you get me at the station tonight?

  I can’t help smiling. When?

  Ten thirty.

  I’ll be there.

  You OK?

  Fine. See you then.

  Pete finally texts. Sorry, man. Was sleeping. I’ll find some for you. Give me a little while.

  I almost text back telling Pete not to bother, all is fine now, but maybe it would be good to have some ready just in case. So I text back OK.

  • • •

  It’s easier than I think to get out of the house, since Mom had me drop Livy at a friend’s house for a sleepover, and Mom and Ryan went to sleep at eight o’clock. That leaves the field clear for me to get Emily’s car and go to the train station, which I get to at ten thirty, which just lends itself to a bunch of anxiety that lays in my belly and reproduces into fear, pebbles that pile on top of each other until they push up my throat. Where is she?

  Throngs of passengers pass by me, and no Emily. My stomach is in a knot, and I can’t help myself, I am leaning forward, searching. No Emily. I take out my phone. No messages. I take out hers. None. It’s almost quarter to eleven, and still no Emily. I start to text her when I hear her voice.

  “Hey.”

  I look up. She’s there in front of me. She looks small and sad, but she’s there. I want to grab her and shake her. I want to hold her close, but that would be so stupid and weak. That would be too much.

  She puts her arms around me, and she leans into me. I feel her cry.

  “Sh. It’s OK.”

  She lets me hold her, and we stay like this for a few minutes. Then I say, “Let’s get you home.”

  I hand her phone back. “Thanks.”

  I want to ask about her trip. See if it worked out, but if I were her, I wouldn’t want to be grilled the minute I step off the train, so instead, I say, “You hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Pizza?” I ask.

  “Perfect. Let’s do take out. I kind of want to be home.”

  “Call it in. I’ll drive.”

  “Our place? Joey’s?”

  “Yeah.” Our place. Since when have I gotten so whipped? I drive through town, the storefronts flashing by me. I wait in the car while she runs in to get our pizza. Then I take her home.

  “You’re coming in, right?” she calls over her shoulder. “I really need the company.”

  I follow her like the pet I’ve become. She takes out plates and then gets glasses. She fills them with ice and opens the refrigerator. She takes out a two-liter bottle of Coke and splashes some into the glasses. She winks at me and pulls a small bottle of Jack out of her pocket. She adds some to each glass. “You’re right. These two do belong together.”

  We eat in almost complete silence. We both drain our drinks, and she refills them.

  “Mom and Dad won’t be home till tomorrow.” She checks her phone, the one that I’d held for her.

  I drink some of my drink. Try not to let myself go where the bottom half of my body is screaming to go. I tell myself she’s tired. I tell myself she’s too hurt right now. That being with her under these circumstances would be wrong. She comes over to me and puts her hand on my
cheek. I move my face, but she presses her palm so we’re still connected. She stares in my eyes and kisses me.

  I pull back. “No. We can’t.”

  “Of course we can.” She kisses me again.

  “OK, grammar queen, we shouldn’t.”

  She drinks some more of her Jack and Coke. Kisses me so I taste it on her tongue. “Why shouldn’t we?”

  “Because you have no idea when your parents could get home.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “They aren’t the only ones who know how to track people’s whereabouts on their phone. This minute, my parents are at Penn State reliving their glory days.” She rolls her eyes when she says this, and I can’t help but laugh. Until she pushes her body against mine. Wraps her hands around my waist. Kisses me stronger this time. “Any other objections?” she asks.

  It’s hard to think. Seriously hard, but I do it anyway. “Yes. We have to wait until that haunted look leaves your face.”

  She laughs and does a little tsk-tsk thing that is super hot. “Yeah. No. I don’t.”

  “OK, what about my haunted look?” I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here.

  She pulls my head back by my hair. Which is also kind of hot. Stares at me. Gives me a good once-over. Still hot. Then she says, “I pronounce you unhaunted.” Then she kisses me, and it’s like all the worry that was bottled up inside me comes pouring out into that kiss. And then we’re breathless, her hands on my neck and under my shirt, and I hear how I sound when I want her. My body can’t get enough of her. We’re glued together, and I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to stop, but I know I should.

  Then she does. She pulls away, and I’m winded. Breathless. She puts her hands on my cheeks. “You want to go upstairs?”

  “Emily…I think…”

  “I know. Just fun. OK?” Her eyes hold mine. They’re unsure and needy and so damn beautiful. I can see she’s scared, but she wants to anyway.

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t think…”

  She shakes her head. “It’s OK. I know…how you are. I know what you want.”

  I take her hands. “What do I want?”

  “You want to get away from here. You want to go to California. You don’t want strings. That’s OK. I just want you for as long…as long as you want me. That’s it.”

  I kiss her hands. “I’m so messed up. You have no idea.”

  Her hand goes to my cheek again. “You are so beautiful.”

  I shake my head. “I helped you. You’re just grateful…”

  She pulls away from me. Blinks away angry tears. “This is not a mercy fuck…”

  “Hey. I didn’t say that.”

  “And I am not the good girl you think I am.”

  “You don’t have to prove that to me.”

  She grabs me by the collar and pulls me to her. She kisses me hard. “Does this feel like gratitude?”

  I shake my head.

  She grabs my ass and pulls me against her. “If you don’t want me…”

  “I didn’t say that…”

  She walks away from me. Looks back. “Race you.”

  And we do. All the way up to her bedroom, where she falls backward on the bed, and I fall on top of her.

  “You sure you’re OK with this?” I ask one more time.

  “Uh-huh.” She runs her hand under my shirt. “Just for fun.”

  That almost stops me. Almost. But she’s right—why don’t we have a little fun? A little fun never hurt anyone. My eyes take in her beautiful face. Sad and perfect and on fire all at once, and I wonder if this girl is like me. Feeling too much all the time. My lips on hers, I try to take away the sadness. Eliminate the fear. Just bring the good kind of fire.

  The sound of the door opening downstairs jolts me.

  “Emily? You home?” Her mother’s voice carries up the stairs.

  Her hands grip my arms. Fear fills her face. She starts to laugh. She mouths, What the fuck?

  I jump back, grab my shirt, which was luckily the only thing I’d taken off.

  “Emily? What’s going on?”

  Steps pound upstairs. Emily points to her closet. Right. The closet. No one ever thinks to look there. I make my way to the window. I’m almost all the way out when Emily realizes she can lock her door. Bang, bang, bang.

  “Emily…”

  I scramble out the window, grab onto the tree that is out there.

  “Open this door!”

  Emily puts on her annoyed voice. “I’m getting dressed. Give me a minute.”

  “Open this door please.”

  I shimmy down the tree. Emily shuts the window. I feel like a total jerk for leaving her to deal with the fallout from our party downstairs. But her parents finding me in her room would have been much worse.

  Chapter 18

  I still haven’t heard from Emily since last night, and that worries me. Just like Mom staying in bed does. So I’m downstairs early, trolling around, making my toast, making my own lunch. Wishing I had coffee. Waiting for the car honk. Finally, it comes.

  Mom stumbles downstairs in her bathrobe. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. I gotta go.”

  I race by her, out the door, and into the car, where I find a really sad-looking Emily.

  “Hey, are you OK?”

  She’s got tears in her eyes, and she shakes her head and closes them, working like mad to keep them from flowing. Her hands frame each word. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry you got in trouble for…”

  She shakes her head. “They disabled their location notifications. Who does that?”

  “I’m sorry. What did they say?”

  “What didn’t they say? They are disappointed in me.”

  “Because of…”

  “They thought I was going to be make better decisions. They worry I’m going down a bad road. Alcohol. For God’s sake, alcohol.” She’s imitating her mother’s voice, but she’s laughing. She turns to face me. “They don’t know about you at all. They’re so stupid.”

  “What? They are that mad because you had a little Jack?”

  “Where did I get it from? How could I do that?” She gestures wildly, imitating her mother, I’m sure.

  I laugh. But it kind of makes me mad. I mean, Emily is such a good kid, and her parents give her shit about a little drinking.

  “I’m grounded. For life.” She smiles like she can’t believe her bad luck. She shakes her head, her hands still doing the flourish thing.

  “They say grounded for life, but they don’t actually mean for life.”

  “They probably do. But it doesn’t matter. I want to go to your award ceremony. That’s tomorrow night.” Tears fill her eyes, and she blinks a couple of times. She slams the car into park.

  I hold her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to have a huge crowd anyway. It’ll annoy the other kids.”

  Her eyes are all watery, and her face is blotchy. “I’m sorry, John, I really am. And about…you know…”

  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

  She laughs. “Maybe.”

  It bugs me Emily won’t be there, but underneath the entire thing, I’m worried that Mom and Dad will let me down somehow or be disappointed once they see my work or how I do in the competition. This entire thing stinks of stupid. Me being stupid for even letting Mr. Bonham talk me into it.

  She laughs again.

  “Are you sorry we almost…” God, I’m such a needy son of a bitch. Some Son of Anarchy.

  She looks down. Blushes. Smiles. “No. Of course not.”

  “Hey.” I point to the empty parking lot. “We better hurry to beat the crowd.”

  “Oh. Wait. I forgot. This is what I have left.” She digs her hand in her pockets and pulls out a wad of ca
sh. She hands it to me, all crinkled and clumped together, her hands so small, cradling mine. It’s her hands that get to me. They are nothing like Leah’s. Her nails are cut super short, and she’s got these leather bracelets with knots that make me like her even more for some stupid reason. Leah would never wear anything like that. Emily wears almost no makeup. She has these incredibly urgent and intense little hands. I don’t know why I’m making a not-like-Leah list in my head, but it feels like maybe it’s the right thing. I straighten out the cash and put it in my wallet, chuckling as I do.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just cute the way you keep your money.”

  “Cute?” She smacks my arm. “Girls don’t like being called cute anymore. It’s insulting.”

  I put my hands up. “Sorry. Wow. Remind me not to make you mad anymore.”

  She puts a strand of hair behind her ear. Which I take as an invitation to lean in to kiss her.

  Brandon and Will pull into the parking lot just as we are walking toward the courtyard. “Hey, Strickland. Wait up.”

  I stop.

  “Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Guess so.” She looks like she wants to say something to me. Or do something. I feel myself leaning toward her. Remind myself that this is OK. It’s just fun. No one’s getting hurt. I want to kiss her again. I almost do. But then someone throws a ball against the brick wall behind her, and her head whips in that direction.

  “Asshole!” I yell to Matt, who has nothing better to do than mess with my love life.

  “Bye, guys.” Emily scoots off into school.

  “Should we tell Dominique that you’re officially off the market?” Brandon claps me on the back, then says, “Don’t let that get in the way of your game, Strickland.”

  Matt jumps in. “I’m pretty sure Dominique’s into me anyway.”

  Parker scowls at him. “You wish.” Then to me, “Big scrimmage Thursday. We can’t get beat again. You gotta leave it on the field, not in the bedroom.”

  Matt shakes his head. “You sound like a public service announcement.” He lowers his voice like one of those TV announcers. “Boys, don’t get caught with your dick outside your pants.”