Back to You (Don't Forget Me Book 2)

by Sia Wales

  The glow from his jade eyes is blinding.

  “Remind me to thank you later, if I’m not in traction.”

  As we near the bar, I try to recompose myself. But I’m filled with dejection; how can Vuk put me through this humiliation? A few moments of silence pass. Outside the sky has darkened, the clouds becoming more threatening.

  “Here we are,” he says as we turn into the now familiar road where The Pats sits––the bar overrun by New England Patriots fans, the one I work in. And two of the biggest fans are Scott and Jeff, my father.

  As we approach, I begin to realize that it’s going to be much worse than I imagined.

  The lights are all on and there is a crowd of people standing out front. I see Scott waiting at the entrance and my heart leaps. His smile stands out from the crowd like a rare day of sunshine in cloudy old Medford. Massive boxes of flowers––the four o’clock flower, I presume––embellish the windowsills next to the entrance. Pinned up to the doorframe is a rainbow made of balloons and paper garlands have been tied to it.

  I look at Vuk, and a nervous giggle escapes my lips.

  The glow from the lanterns hung up outside the bar reflects delicately on the massive cedar trees, which surround the building. They are the very same lanterns Jeff used when he used to go camping with Scott and his nephew, Tyler.

  “I feel like it’s my fifth birthday,” I sigh.

  “Well, you sure don’t wear it well!” Vuk examines me and slips an arm around me for a second.

  I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. The last thing I want is a party to remind me what day it is. I told Scott not to organize anything. No surprise party, no live music, no fuss. Obviously, my wishes are ignored.

  Vuk pulls over to the sidewalk and turns off the motor. He gets out of the pickup and walks round to open my door, his eyes now their natural shade––emerald green with a few flashes of topaz. He offers me his hand. I stubbornly stay put, arms folded, secretly rejoicing in his gallantry.

  Vuk can’t drag me out of the pickup, though he wouldn’t hesitate to do it if we were alone. The front of the bar is packed with people there to see tonight’s show, and they would all be guests of the party.

  Scott takes it upon himself to almost carry me out of the truck. I try my best to look enthusiastic about the surprise party that I had begged him not to throw.

  “Happy anniversary, Ella May!” he exclaims loudly, giving me a great big bear hug. Ella May, his nickname for me, made up of my second name and the month I was born.

  “Shh,” I mouth, embarrassed, looking around, and hoping it wouldn’t set off the usual chain of “happy anniversary” cheers.

  An amused Scott smiles broadly and kisses my forehead before turning to Vuk. He gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder.

  “Took you a while to get her outta the house, eh?”

  “Luckily, I know just the tricks to use,” Vuk grins. His voice becomes hoarse and sly, but still with that velvety undertone.

  I turn toward him and narrow my eyes menacingly.

  “Great work, kiddo!” smiles Scott. “Only you could do it. Thanks for your help.”

  “My pleasure.” Vuk returns the smile.

  “Your turn soon,” winks Scott, though just what he means is vague. He goes back into the bar.

  Vuk takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. My eyes are still glued to his face.

  “Your turn for what?” I ask, without hesitation. “You promised. No presents!”

  “I didn’t spend a dime.”

  “I told you I didn’t want anything. Nothing to unwrap and store in some corner.”

  “And I listened, more or less.”

  He’s standing still, leaning on the shining red pickup, a triumphant smile on his face.

  “Not even a dime,” he repeats.

  Then he leans in close to me, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

  “Trust me, little girl.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s a party,” he adds. “Behave yourself!” He makes to lead me to the group of people crowding the entrance to the bar.

  “Of course I’ll behave,” I mumble. I awkwardly slam the heavy door of the pickup shut, causing a rain of dried mud to fall onto the wet sidewalk.

  I keep staring at him, wondering just where he lives now, whether his house is in the countryside or near a forest. That mud under the car had to be a clue.

  “Good,” he laughs, before sliding his warm hand through my arm and leading me to the bar. His dark jeans, black top, and trendy leather jacket make him look even wilder than he already is.

  Vuk gives me a peck on the cheek, unaware of Scott’s watchful eye. He releases his grip on my arm and mingles into the mass.

  “Just in time, Ella May! That was one hell of a wait, I thought you’d never come.” My eyes widen as I scan the crowd and drop my jaw in disbelief. Vuk chuckles at my reaction, but keeps his distance.

  I recognize the harmonious tone of that voice right away, the most trustworthy and comforting male voice I have heard since my childhood. The safe harbor in those rainy nights when I’d hide my head under the covers, scared of the thunder.

  The crowd parts like the Red Sea, like the wrapping peeling itself off a magnificent gift, and I see before me the huge sign, in shining gold, with the name of the bar, while Jeff appears at the entrance. When he smiles, I can see the man that Monica fell in love with almost 30 years ago.

  I rush toward him, all dark thoughts washed away momentarily, replaced by joy. He walks toward me in beige jeans and a light-colored shirt, his splendid smile framed by the same fine hair he bequeathed to me.

  “Happy anniversary, Stella!” Jeff’s voice chimes like a bell.

  “Jeff,” I breathe, relieved, my voice strangled with emotion. I throw myself into his arms so enthusiastically, I almost knock us both over, but he holds on to me. I let myself melt into his familiar and reassuring embrace.

  “Great to see you again, Ella May!” he says, laughing at the rebound, which has thrown my head backward, a supporting arm around my waist to stop my fall.

  “And it’s great to have you back, Jeff,” I reply. At that instant, Scott appears by my father’s side.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he exclaims good-heartedly.

  I can still hear Vuk’s loud laughter echoing in the entrance of the bar, and I can’t help but smile.

  A silky voice cries out from behind the door.

  “Vuk!” It’s Ronald Riley, Scott’s Scottish neighbor. “I need some advice.” He points to a pile of CDs, then notices me. “Hey, Stella! Happy anniversary!”

  “Thanks, Ronald,” I smile.

  “Should we play some classic rock or something a little more alternative? Or…” Ronald points to another pile of CDs. “Maybe we should calm the masses with something more mellow.”

  “I’d say something chill for now,” advises Vuk.

  Ronald nods and begins to sort through the CDs, throwing some into a box.

  “See you inside,” Vuk mouths to me.

  I nod and watch him slip into the bar. Jeff smirks as he watches me watching Vuk.

  “How’s Monica? I haven’t spoken to her in more than a week.”

  “Mom’s fine, thanks. She’s in New York right now. Still busy editing some film or another.”

  “I thought as much,” Jeff replies, glancing at Scott, a twinkle in his eye. He is holding a small, square, flat package in his hand, wrapped in white paper with a silver bow.

  “Oh, Jeff, not you too!” I exclaim in astonishment. He lowers his eyes as I say this; he’s always felt uneasy showing his emotions.

  “I found a car I thought you might like,” he smiles. “It was a real bargain. The keys are in the parcel.”

  The light catches the silver bow.

  “It’s for you, missy.”

  He turns his reserved, introverted eyes back to me, and it’s easy to understand why he and my mother left each other so hastily after my birth. The romantic, ca
refree, expressive man he had been at the time disappeared before I got a chance to really know him. He was replaced by the indifferent guy standing before me now. I take a deep breath.

  “Thanks, Jeff. You shouldn’t have.”

  I guess that I inherited that side of his character, because when I reply, I stare straight ahead into space.

  “Well, I thought that we’d need two cars, seeing as I’m staying here in Medford for a while.”

  “I would have bought a car with my own cash,” I object, embarrassed. This was obviously all planned. In our earlier conversation on the sofa, Vuk obviously knew that Jeff was already in Medford, waiting for me at the bar. Thinking about his comments on my car, I shake my head, incredulous.

  “I know, Stella, but I wanted to buy it for you as a surprise anniversary present.”

  “But the party itself is the surprise!” I mutter. But in my head I’m totally shocked.

  “I gave you the Corvette four years ago, now I’m taking it back and giving you another beauty.”

  The terrible tomorrow that awaits me somehow seems less frightening. I would no longer have to choose between taking the train, walking five miles in the freezing cold, or begging a ride from my dad to go to college. But returning to class will still be a nightmare, I know!

  “What kind of car is it?” I ask, brimming with curiosity.

  “Well, it’s a sports car.”

  “New?” My eyes never leave Jeff’s face as I peel the ribbon off.

  “Well, no. It was new sometime in late 1969.”

  The way he said ‘late 1969’ triggered my suspicions. I get the paper off and open the box, my eyes still on my father. “When did you buy it?”

  “A week ago. In Vegas.”

  I pull the key out.

  “It’s the ‘69 Pontiac!”

  “Yup, the GTO,” he specifies. “The same model we used in that race car driving course we did in South Boston.” Jeff had gone on about doing that course as soon as I got my driver’s license, and I’ll never forget the terror I caused on the track that day. My father gave me a few lessons.

  “It’s a few years old, sure. But Tyler took a good look at the engine and says it’s in great shape. Seriously, Ella May, this toy drives like the wind, and they don’t make such solid bodywork anymore.” He knows how accident-prone I am too. “I was on the phone with you when I was bidding for it at an auction. Remember that call?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “Scott picked it up at the station this afternoon, so you can’t refuse it.” As he speaks, I glance down the road at the cars parked along the sidewalk, seeing if I can spot my present, but nothing doing.

  “Thanks, Jeff,” I repeat still looking vainly around, “But maybe I need glasses to see it.” It should be easy to spot, I think to myself.

  “Whoa, Ella May, it’s not time to open the big present yet. With four wheels, power steering and an accelerator that’ll have you burning up the road. First we have some partying to do.”

  “Right. Let’s get down to it, then.” I turn the box over to read the inscription. It’s from Scott, too. He comes up to me, in expectation of his ‘thank you’ hug.

  I plant a kiss on his overgrown beard. “Thanks for the great gift, Scott. You really shouldn’t have.”

  “My pleasure, kid. I just want you to be happy.” His words are almost choked, and he kisses the top of my head, his big belly crushing my ribs.

  “So what brings you back here?” The sudden change in Jeff’s expression tells me that he hopes this is the last question I’ll ask tonight.

  “Well… there’s this surprise party for someone tonight.” He winks at Scott. “And as I was in the neighborhood…”

  “Jeff?”

  “Ok, you win.” He shrugs. “You’ve been through a lot lately, Ella May, and I want to be close to you for a while.”

  “I’m grateful, I really am. You’re the best present ever!” It’s pointless to add that being happy in Medford at this moment in time is an unrealistic dream. No point dragging him down to the depths of my despair.

  I slip through the space between Jeff and Scott’s belly to head into the bar, still ready to run for cover if I need to.

  Scott pulls open the door.

  “Shall we go in? Tyler says it’s going to rain. And you know that my nephew never misses a trick with the weather. He’s always spot on.” He steals a furtive glance at me, hoping I’ll forgive him for the unwanted party.

  I pout accusingly at him, and put a foot inside the door, still on my toes, ready to make my escape.

  My eyes widen in surprise and for a moment I’m speechless. Then I shake my head.

  “Incredible!”

  Scott shrugs, the wide-eyed innocent. “You know Jeff!”

  He weaves his bulk through the crowd, guiding me along. I look at him. What a trickster! He won’t get away with it that easily. He’s wearing the same expression that cartoon cat Tom has when, caught red-handed, he hides Jerry the mouse behind his teeth. He has the expression of someone who knows he’s in deep trouble. It’s the same look as when he told Jeff about the time I jumped into the ocean from some rocks onto the reef last summer, or the time he blabbed about Vuk sleeping in the storeroom for months.

  He had promised not to say a word to Jeff about what I was going through. But at least he didn’t blurt out every detail about my being in hospital after the accident last month.

  We continue toward the windows at the far end of the bar, but I can’t make out what’s there. The lights are dim, rock music is playing in the background, and there are flashes of light from people taking photos. The stage is lit up, awaiting tonight’s performance.

  On the counter, near the door to the storeroom, is a tablecloth with flowers and a cake cut into slices, a pile of paper plates and a small mountain of gifts from my closest friends wrapped in colored paper. I lose sight of Jeff, who has stopped to chat with a friend who I imagine he hasn’t seen in a while.

  The Party

  I’m having fun. Who knows, maybe it’s another step toward coming out of the haze, but that doesn’t seem enough of an explanation. I think it might be thanks to Vuk. It’s certainly not my doing. Scott puts his arms around my shoulders and, with a smile and friendly words, helps me shake off the over-enthusiastic band of friends that are gathering around to wish me well.

  I must admit that Vuk helping me avoid the mountain of well-wishers and the subsequent embarrassment they’d cause me means I’ve practically forgiven him. At the end of the day, it was he asks Jeff to come home because he cares about me and never misses the chance to show it.

  He pulls me into a tight bear hug by the window and pats me heartily on the back.

  “I can’t breathe!”

  He releases and nudges me, with the delicacy of a bull, toward a tall, slim guy who is looking out the window. It’s his nephew.

  Tyler turns to me with growing impatience. His golden eyes reflect like a setting sun in mine. The soft curve of his lips reveal a bright, open smile. He is already walking toward me.

  He quickens his pace, his long legs striding quickly toward me. He stops a few inches in front of me.

  The easy grace of his movements strikes me. Tyler has grown up so fast. He used to be as gawky as me. When did this change come about? But the shyness and embarrassment are still palpable.

  “Um, hi,”

  I stand still and look at him. His topaz-colored eyes burn bright. It’s incredible to see eyes that are of that color and his smile is of a warmth I can hardly imagine.

  He’s shot up at least a foot and a half since I last saw him. Plus, he’s hardly condescending, as people usually do with borderline cases. Scott smiles, satisfied.

  “Do you remember my nephew who used to come here to Medford for the summer? He’d come camping with us in the woods.” That’s why I don’t remember him well. The only thing that leaps to mind is that his family is from Siberia. I’m very good at erasing any painful or pointless experiences.
Almost. “He’s just moved in with me at Cape Cod,” ads Scott. “He’s a forest ranger in the Green Mountains in Vermont. He used to live with his mom in the Rocky Mountains.”

  I wave at him. Tyler says ‘hi’ again and smiles, but looks embarrassed. I’m glad he’s over the idea of trying to shoot me with his wooden sling, the only awful memory I have of my childhood friend and camping buddy.

  “Right, kids, I gotta get back to work,” says Scott. “I’ll let you finish talking in peace.”

  I roll my eyes and think to myself, “As if we’ve even begun a conversation!”

  Scott heads behind the bar with that benign uncle’s smile on his face. I can’t stay mad at him when he’s like this.

  “Hi,” says Tyler again in a friendly tone. It feels like my first day in Medford again. He’s wearing such a sunny smile on his face that I bet that’s what his second name is. Sunny.

  “My name is Tyler Holden-Bradford,” he says anxiously, turning to see where Scott has gone. He’s still nearby, and Tyler’s gaze lingers on him a moment longer before he turns to me.

  It’s weird that he introduces himself with two family names.

  “I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself properly on the phone. You must be Ella May Whitely,” he continues eagerly, distracting me from my thoughts.

  I have to talk to him, I have to say something. And I can tell that he’s waiting for me to do just that. “How do you know my name?” I ask. Dumb question.

  I can see Scott out of the corner of my eye heading into the storage room. He’s carrying a paper plate with a slice of cake on it. He holds it up to me to offer it to me, but I shake my head.

  Tyler relaxes and a light, enchanting laugh escapes him. “Oh, I think everyone here knows your name. The whole bar was waiting for you to get here.”

  I grin, knowing that this is more or less true.

  Scott is behind the bar and Jeff is watching me, perched on a bar stool, smiling. He continues his chat with Scott. They haven’t seen each other in months, they must have a lot to say.

  I look around.

  “So everyone knows about my anniversary?”

  “Sure, you’re the prom queen tonight,” he says uncomfortably, in the same tone of voice I used. His voice is pleasant, friendly. I’m not used to laughing too much; it seems like the right thing to do, but at the same time, totally wrong.