by Alison Ryan
It was very odd. Girls looked at him differently as he walked the halls of Torrey Pines. Other guys tended to show him more respect, especially knowing he was a good friend of Josh Pruitt, who was one of the more popular guys in school as a sophomore now playing varsity football.
Macon was not used to being seen at all, much less wanted. He didn’t know what to make of it.
After being bold enough to kiss Norah Pruitt on that first day their freshman year, not much had changed between them. She’d smiled at him afterwards, tears still drying on her cheeks.
“You’re so sweet,” she’d said. “You’re my best friend, Macon.”
Friend? Yikes. Not what a guy wanted to hear after a kiss like that.
But to have any sort of role in Norah’s life was better than nothing. So he’d relented. Maybe one day she’d see him like he saw her.
And after his transformation, he figured it might be sooner than he’d hoped.
Macon still spent all of his time (when he wasn’t studying) hanging out with the Pruitt kids. After school they’d go to In-N-Out for a couple of hours and order milkshakes and double doubles. Norah would hand him her newest short story to read and Macon would talk to her about the pressure of taking all AP classes, about how tired he was of living in a trailer with his mother who was addicted to gambling in all forms, and who also spent an obscene amount of time playing Farmville and Candy Crush on Facebook.
“This is why I study my ass off,” he’d say. “I suck at sports. The only thing that’s going to get me away from her are my academics.”
Norah nodded. “I know. Your brains, Josh’s brawn, and my… Well. I don’t know what’s going to get me out of this town. I guess I’ll just follow the two of you.” She smiled at him as she sipped her shake. “I’ll ride your genius coattails.”
“Your writing,” Macon said, and he meant it. Norah could write. She could tell a story as well as any novelist he’d ever read. Her style was all her own and he knew she could make it in that world, if only she’d believe in herself.
Norah shook her head. “That’s a pipedream. I’m good in English but I’m terrible in every other subject. I’ll be lucky to even get into community college. I wish I was smart like you are, Macon. You’re going to be anyone you want to be. Just promise not to forget me in the process.”
“Never,” he said, looking at her, wishing she could see what he meant by that. I love you, he thought. How could I ever forget the first and only girl I ever loved?
One night after Josh’s football practice, the three friends were hanging out at the Pruitt trailer. Their mother had a new man in her life, a truck driver who would take their mother on the road when he was going cross country. Sometimes they wouldn’t see her for weeks. But ever since she’d been gone, life had become much more calm for the Pruitts. No more random men laying around the house, no more having to sneak over to Macon’s to spend the night.
Curiously, by being absent, their mother was being the best mom she’d ever been to them.
Macon was laughing with Josh over an episode of COPS while Norah made them all a frozen pizza. Lately Josh had been spending more time with his football “bros” so Macon and Norah had both missed him.
“What an idiot,” Josh said. “Why do these guys run over a stupid traffic stop? They make it so much worse for themselves.”
“I’m more impressed with the camera guys on this show,” Macon said. “They always manage to keep up.”
Suddenly there was a heavy pounding on the door, making everyone jump.
“Pruitt!” A deep voice bellowed from the other side of the thin trailer door. “Get out here!”
Josh walked over and peaked out the venetian blinds of the living room.
“Shit, it’s the guys,” he said, looking over at his sister. “I swear I didn’t know they were coming over.”
Norah shook her head. “You promised to hang out with us tonight. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of douche football players.”
Josh sighed. “Are you saying I’m a douche?”
“No,” she corrected. “You’re not. But if you hang around those guys long enough their doucheness may rub off on you.”
Josh walked over to his twin and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Football season isn’t much longer,” he said. “And now that I’m one of the guys, we’ll get invited to cool parties this spring. We’ll have earned respect. Life will be a lot easier.”
Norah rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t give a shit about any of that.”
“But I do know you give a shit about me,” Josh replied. “Please, Norah. I’ll make sure they don’t stay long. They like coming here because there aren’t any parents.”
“Fine,” Norah said. “But they don’t get any pizza and you keep them away from my room. Macon and I will be back there watching TV with all the pizza to ourselves.”
Josh grinned. “Deal. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she sighed, looking at Macon. “Do you want to hang out with me or the jock straps?”
Macon didn’t have to think about that one very long.
Macon had never been back in Norah’s bedroom before. When he came over they usually just hung out in the kitchen and living room. She had a twin mattress with pink and white bedding. It was neatly made, with a couple of stuffed animals on it. She had a desk in the corner of the small room where her computer was. An old TV/VCR combo set sat on her vanity directly across from her bed. All over the walls were posters of movies. The famous one from Casablanca hung right above her headboard.
She also had a small bookshelf with books spilling off it. There wasn’t enough room on it for all the books Norah Pruitt had read.
“Let’s sit,” she said as they walked in together. She was holding two paper plates in her hands, both piled with pizza and chips. Macon had grabbed them each a can of Pepsi from the fridge.
“It’s like a little date night!” she smiled. “Movie and pizza.”
“Ha,” Macon chuckled. He wished.
“I’m guessing you’re going to go on lots of dates this year,” Norah said, sitting cross legged on the end of her bed near the pillow. She scooted over to make room for him.
It was so strange to be in her room. Where she slept. Where she dreamed.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, sitting next to her and grabbing one of the plates.
“Well,” she said, taking a sip of her Pepsi. “Look at you. You’ve kind of turned into a hunk this year. My friend Ashley Bruner has an enormous crush on you.” Norah smiled. “She asked me to somehow squeeze that into conversation tonight.”
Macon shifted uncomfortably next to Norah. Not that there was anything wrong with Ashley Bruner, but Macon couldn’t have been less interested in her. Or anyone who wasn’t Norah.
“I guess that’s flattering,” he said.
As they ate their pizza they could hear the obnoxious laughter and loud talking coming from the living room.
“I’m so glad you’re not like those guys,” Norah said. “I don’t know why Josh is so eager to impress them. They’re a bunch of morons with the IQs of flip flops. Actually, that’s probably being too kind.”
Macon laughed. “Josh just craves the typical American teen experience. It makes him feel like he has some control in his life. He wants to feel important. I guess we all do, right?”
Norah stared at Macon for a long moment, making him feel slightly uncomfortable under her beautiful gaze.
“You really see people,” she finally said. “Like, really see them.”
“I guess I just observe people a lot,” Macon said. “I try to understand them. It makes the world less scary for me.”
Norah put down her plate and scooted closer to Macon. Suddenly he was very nervous.
“What do you see when you see me?” Norah whispered. “What’s going to happen to me, Macon?”
Macon gulped. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Norah, you have the world at y
our feet if you want it,” he said. “How can you not know that?”
She smiled and he was relieved. He’d said the right thing.
“Want me to show you something kind of ridiculous?” she asked.
Macon nodded. “I’m always down for the ridiculous.”
Norah walked over to her tiny closet and started sorting through some papers she had in a cardboard box on the floor. He couldn’t help but admire the shape of her ass as she squatted. Her pajama pants were slightly low enough for him to see…
“Here they are!” she suddenly said, standing up, knocking Macon out of his fantasy for a moment. She walked over to the bed and dumped a box full of what looked like Hallmark cards all over the bed.
“You saved every birthday card you’ve ever received?” Macon asked, picking one up. “That’s not that ridiculous. But I had no idea you were such a hoarder. This changes everything.”
Norah smacked him playfully against his arm.
“They’re not birthday cards,” she said. “Look again.”
Macon opened the one in his hand. It was a light pink color and on the inside it said:
Dear Mom-
Thank you for being a powerful voice for good in my life. You always have my back and you always know the right things to say when I’m down. I love that you pack me lunch every day and that you understand how important it is to be supportive of my dreams and ambitions. You’re not the mother that laughs when I hand you a story I have been working on for weeks. You would never tell me my dreams are stupid and that I better stay thin so I can get a job as a cocktail waitress since that’s all I’ll ever be good for unless I somehow manage to marry well. You’re also so lovely and kind to all those around you. You would never be someone who would get in a fight with a woman at Albertsons over the last bottle of cheap wine that’s on sale. You’re too classy for that. Thanks for being a great example of what kind of mother I hope to be one day. Happy Mother’s Day!
Love,
Norah, age 13
Macon looked up at Norah, confused.
“This is a Mother’s Day card,” he said. “To your mom?”
“Read another one,” Norah said, scooting close to Macon, her chin resting on his shoulder. “One from Josh.”
Macon picked up another card and opened it:
Mom-
I love that you never miss any of my baseball, football, or basketball games. You’re so classy, you never show up drunk or make such a terrible scene that the ref has to throw you out of the game. I also appreciate that you never sleep with my coaches which would make it uncomfortable for me to keep playing for men who I know have seen my mother naked. A son couldn’t be more proud to be yours. Happy Mother’s Day!
Love always,
Josh, age 14
Now Macon was really confused. He knew that Mrs. Pruitt was actually permanently banned from attending any sporting event held by a Clark County Public School because she’d been kicked out of so many of them. He’d also assumed it was only a rumor that she’d slept with the middle school baseball coach, but he guessed this confirmed it.
“What are these?” Macon asked.
“Like I said, it’s ridiculous,” Norah said. “Since we were about ten, Josh and I have been writing these cards and giving them to each other. They’re supposed to be to the parents we wish we had. Or at least the kind of parents we wish we had. It helps us deal with a lot of our resentment and anger. Here. Read this one. It’s to my dad. Before…”
Macon took the card from her shaking hands:
Dear Dad-
I just want you to know how grateful I am for you. I know that life hasn’t been kind or easy for you and that there are some things that have happened to you from the war that you can’t tell me and Josh about. One day I hope you will and I want you to know, when that day comes, I’ll be here to listen. I know you’re not like most dads. You don’t wear a suit or go to an office. You don’t tell corny jokes or wear socks with sandals. I wouldn’t trade you for any other dad on the planet though because who you are is just perfect. And I will always be your biggest fan, even when you feel like no one is on your side or no one understands you. I might not understand sometimes, but I will never give up trying to. Happy Father’s Day. I love you so much.
Love,
Norah, age 12
Macon looked up at her. Her face was close to his now, her eyes filled with tears.
“I found that one today,” she said. “I hadn’t read it since I wrote it. I never got to give it to him. It’s the only real card I ever wrote. The others have just been a way for me and Josh to vent about stuff, but that card was how I really felt.”
Macon didn’t know what to say. He thought of Norah writing it, so blissfully unaware of the pain that was on the horizon.
“He’s proud of you,” Macon said. “You know that, right?”
Norah was crying now and Macon felt like he had the day she’d told him about her father’s suicide. But they were older now and he knew so much more about her. He didn’t want to be a temporary comfort to her.
He wanted to be a permanent one.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his chest.
“I miss him,” she sobbed into Macon’s chest. “I thought time would make me feel better about it, but it hasn’t really. I just keep wishing he were here.”
“I know,” Macon said. “I mean… I don’t know, but I can imagine.”
They sat there for a long time, Norah crying into his chest, Macon trying not to move, not wanting her body to leave his.
Finally she pulled away, her hands wiping the tears from her cheeks. She shook her head.
“What a bummer I am,” she said. “I just kind of killed the good time vibes, huh?”
Macon shook his head. “No. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
They stared at one another for a long moment and Macon suddenly knew. She wasn’t looking at him as a friend. She was seeing him how he wanted to be seen.
Finally.
“Macon,” she whispered, moving her face closer to his, her mouth inches away from his own. “You didn’t seem to care when I told you about Ashley Bruner.”
“Nope,” he said. “She’s nice but I have no interest in her.”
“Oh,” Norah said, a smile on her lips. “Is there anyone you do have an interest in?”
Macon slipped his hand behind her neck. Her skin was so smooth, so perfect.
“You know the answer to that, Norah,” he said, and he pulled her to him, a yelp escaping her mouth right before he kissed her for the second time in his life.
8
Norah hadn’t driven to the trailer park in ages. Not since the day Josh had left for boot camp. As soon as she’d graduated high school she’d moved into the UNLV dorms and then, after dropping out, she’d lived in various apartments throughout her 20’s.
She’d driven by the dilapidated trailer hell plenty of times, but she’d never given it a second glance. It was just a minefield of nostalgia and she wasn’t about to go stepping on anything that would make her heart explode.
So she’d avoided it. Until now.
It was hard to keep her hands from shaking as she drove down Tropicana with Macon Moultrie in the back seat of her Lincoln town car. He looked amazing. Of course he did. He was polished, handsome in a tailored suit, his hair freshly cut. Norah wanted to stare at him, but she resisted.
The faster she got him out of her car and back out of her life, the better.
As she pulled into the home of her past, her stomach started to hurt. Being back among the grit and the grime of this place was like reopening an old wound.
Macon’s mom’s place was just as she remembered- a single wide with green shutters and plastic lawn chairs on a green rug outside the front steps. His mother sat in one of them, smoking a cigarette, clearly waiting for him. She looked mostly the same, except for 20 extra pounds. She’d also adopted the old lady hairdo all women seemed to acquire at a certain age. Her hair was
completely grey, short, and curly. Her eyes narrowed as Norah parked the car.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect Mom to be out here waiting on me,” Macon said. Norah turned to him and shrugged.
“No problem, I don’t need to get out anyway,” Norah replied. “I doubt she even remembers me. Have a good week. Nice to see you.”
Macon paused for a moment and stared at her.
“That’s it?” he said. “You’re leaving? I thought maybe you could stay for a bit… I mean. I just haven’t seen you in so long. I’d love to catch up.”
Norah shook her head. “I have to go back to work. I don’t have time to catch up today.”
“How about tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m here for the week.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, flatly. “Sorry, did you want to pay with cash or credit?”
He looked at her, stunned at her coldness. He knew that the last time they’d been together had been terrible, but… it was Norah. And he was Macon. At one time, they’d loved each other.
More than anything, in his case.
“Do you take American Express?” he said, his eyes still on her.
“Yes,” she said, holding her hand out for his card.
“Wait,” he wanted to touch her hand, to hold it. But he thought better of it. “Can I at least have your number? Norah, don’t you think it’s incredible that of all the cars I could have gotten into, I was placed in yours? Don’t you think that it’s… a sign of something?”
“It’s a sign I have very bad luck,” she said. “As usual.” His face must have registered the burning retort because suddenly her expression and voice softened. “Please, Macon. I’m barely holding on here. I can’t…”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe this…” He suddenly pulled out a pen from his suit’s jacket pocket. “Let me at least write my number down. In case you change your mind. And Norah, please change your mind. I’d never want to cause you anymore pain. I just want to talk to you.”