From Where I Watch You

by Shannon Grogan

  “Changed my mind about what, Mom?” I act like I have no clue what she means, but I’m not sure how to answer this even to myself.

  “Kara, he likes you and you like him, right?”

  “Mom!” I whisper.

  “What, sweetie? He’s a doll. I see a lot of young men come in here with their girlfriends and they don’t look at them the way he looks at you. Now that doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want with him. You know I’ll not condone sins of the flesh. If—”

  “Mom!” I hiss again, cutting her off. “Stop trying to play matchmaker. Isn’t that God’s job anyway?”

  Bonus points. The smile that spreads across her face confirms it.

  She pulls a fake zipper over her lips as she bends over to whisper in my ear. “You’re right, sweetheart. Everything is in His hands. I won’t say anymore!” With that, she twirls away.

  A few minutes later Noah gets up and leaves, so I go sit with Noelle.

  “Hey.” Her voice is tired, unenthusiastic.

  “Why was Noah sitting with you?” I ask.

  “No reason. I saw him walk by, so I banged on the window and told him to come in.” Noelle squints at me. “Hey, you look different. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  She stares at my face. “No, not nothing. Something’s different.” Now she’s interested. The sparkle is back.

  I roll my eyes and sip my latte.

  She slaps her hand down on the table and whispers, “You’ve done it? With Charlie?”

  “Wow, no, and can you lower your voice, please?” I take a peek at my cell even though I know there aren’t any messages. “And for your information, I just kissed him.”

  “Oh hell.” She takes out her nail file and gets busy on her thumbnail. “Okay, well, it’s a start.”

  “We had a fight.”

  She scowls. “Why? God, Kar, why would you fight with him? He’s a great guy. And he’s hot now. Not all scrawny and skinny and—”

  “It was about Hayden. I think Charlie saw me kissing him.”

  Noelle’s eyes bulge. “You did what?” she asks, the scowl now wrestling with a smile.

  “Hayden kissed me and Charlie saw, and he wasn’t happy.”

  “Well, no shit. What the hell are you kissing Hayden for, Kar?”

  “Hayden is . . .” I still feel like I have to defend him to her and I don’t know why that hasn’t changed. “You know I’ve always had a crush on him. It just happened. I—”

  “And I’ve always had a serious hard-on for the bartender at the Moon, but I’d never actually let him stick his tongue in my mouth because he’s disturbed. Just like Hayden.” She grabs her head and massages her temples. “I need aspirin. Did he—and I mean Charlie—do anything else? Touch your boobs or try to get into your pants or anything?”

  I sigh. “Of course not. We were outside.”

  When I look up, there’s Kellen—standing right behind Noelle, almost leaning on her shoulder. Her mouth is open a bit, her lower lip extended slightly, just like how my dad used to look when he was concentrating on something. She stares past me. It’s as if Kellen’s just another customer in the café, but no one sees her, not even Mom. Then she’s gone.

  “Subject change, please,” I tell Noelle.

  “Fine. Will you help me cook tomorrow? Maybe bake some cookies, too? Mason’s parents are out of town and we’re having a little get together. I’m actually in the mood to make some food instead of ordering pizza.”

  “I leave tomorrow. For the contest.”

  “What contest?”

  My jaw drops. I stare at her in disbelief. She has no clue what I’m talking about.

  She shrugs dramatically, emphasizing her cluelessness. “Kara? What? Oh.”

  “Are you so self-absorbed you’ve forgotten the biggest event of my whole life? I can’t believe it.”

  Noelle closes her eyes and massages her temples and I think maybe an apology is coming. But I can tell by how she exhales that it won’t happen. More than likely she’s wondering how she’ll manage anything in the kitchen for her party if I’m not there.

  I feel myself clenching up. “Maybe you could be a real friend and stop ignoring the stuff that matters to me, because there isn’t much of it.”

  “You know, Kar,” she replies while she grabs her purse and stands. “You’re the one ignoring me these days, for Charlie and that psycho.” She takes two steps toward the door before turning back to me. “Good luck with your contest.”

  Then she’s out the door and I’m not even mad. I just don’t care anymore. Looking around the café, I have a weird feeling. Maybe one of these people is writing the notes. But I don’t know any of them, and they don’t know me. The only people who do know me have been around forever. And even they only know pieces of me.

  Upstairs in the apartment, I feel restless, wishing it were time to leave for the airport. I strip and climb into the shower, letting the steamy water relax muscles that have been tense since I received the envelope and even tenser since Noelle stomped off, but it doesn’t really help.

  Fresh and clean, pajama pants and a T-shirt on, I shove in my earbuds, set the iPod to shuffle, and start packing. Thankfully I don’t have to take much: clothes, personal stuff, and my favorite decorator tools—plus, of course, my designs and recipes. Snowflake Sugar will provide everything else, all of the things I can’t afford to buy at Hill Kitchen.

  Mom left a note: lasagna in the freezer. I pop it in the microwave and watch TV while it cooks. I grab a quilt from the ottoman and when I turn around, there’s a shimmery mass that turns into Kellen. She’s not even there long enough for me to tell her to get lost, and tonight I just can’t be bothered with her.

  I move to the window and think about the note in my pocket. I think about what Mom said about Charlie and how he isn’t like other guys. Really, he’s too good for me.

  Noelle has never asked me why I hate Kellen so much. She’s never asked. But Charlie has asked, over and over. He’s the only one who has.

  I peek out the window to see if Charlie’s bike is still there, tied to the vine maple like it is when he works. When I see it, I pick up my cell and text him.

  If u want 2 no, come 2 my door now.

  I creep downstairs, hoping to hear him knock, but scared I will.

  Knock, knock.

  “Hey.” He nods once when I open the door. “Your mom says I can take my break right now.”

  I remember his face when he was so angry with me and when he stared up at my window. “Um, I’m ready to tell you. About Kellen. About what happened.”

  June: Thirteen-Year-Old Carrot’s Kara’s Summer Fun Before High School

  I read a little before bed, but I must have fallen asleep pretty fast because I wake up sometime later with the book on my pillow. With the Fourth of July a couple of days away, people are shooting off fireworks down the street, even though it’s illegal. A red flash lights up my room at the same time I hear a creak out in the hall. Kellen must be home. I turn over to watch out the window while I try to fall back asleep.

  I hear the creak again, the familiar warning that someone is about to enter my room. It’s not like Kellen to come in and tell me she’s home. She only tells me when she’s sneaking out that I better cover for her or she’ll kick my ass.

  The old wood floor groans at the end of my bed.

  Someone is in my room.

  My heart starts to flutter and then it’s beating in my ears. It must be Kellen, of course. I feel like the small tremors running through my body are now transferring to the bed, making it shake as I try to lie there and pretend to sleep. There’s no sound but the popping of fireworks and the wild thudding in my chest. The floor right next to my bed groans. The bed creaks and someone sits down and I hope it’s Mom, coming back early. But I know it’s not Mom. Or Kellen.

&
nbsp; I smell his soap smell. And stale beer. My back is still to him and I hope he thinks I’m asleep because I honestly don’t know what to do. The bed creaks again and I can feel him lying behind me.

  “Sweet Kara,” Nick whispers so soft I almost don’t hear it. I feel his cheek against my arm, and the stubble on his chin that I didn’t notice when he kissed me earlier. He kisses up my arm that’s prickled with gooseflesh. The stubble scrapes my sunburned shoulder when he kisses his way to my neck, and I struggle to keep my eyes tightly shut.

  I can’t breathe. God, where is Kellen? Please come, now, please Kellen!

  He pulls back the covers and I feel his knees against my calves. I only have on a cami and the cotton shorts I borrowed from Kellen because my room was so hot. It’s all I can do not to shiver. My heart pounds out of control and he must feel it and know I’m awake. He runs his hand over my side, and then my hip, and down my thigh and back up again inside my thigh, as far inside as his fingers can get.

  I don’t understand what he’s doing and I still don’t know if I should let him know I’m awake. But what if he hurts me?

  His hand moves up to my hip again, and then I feel his fingertips creep down to my stomach and they feel so much rougher than when they were on my face when he kissed me earlier. I fake sleep even though I’m shaking. His hand slips down lower. My cheeks sting with the tears that are coming. I bite my lip enough to try to stop my shaking but I taste blood. I try and focus on the fireworks outside. Anything to take my mind away from what’s happening.

  A minute later, I feel him shaking and he breathes heavy. The bed creaks when he leans over my arm, maybe to check that he hasn’t woken me up. I pray that he can’t tell I’m awake when he rubs my arm and kisses my cheek.

  He stays there, for how long I’m not sure but it seems like a while. Tears slip over the bridge of my nose and slide down my cheeks and over my lips and drop onto my pillow. My nose runs and I can’t sniff or wipe anything because then he’ll know that I’m awake.

  Every few seconds he’s kissing my shoulder or running his hand along my arm. I’m calmer because he doesn’t do anything but lay there. After a while I hear him sniffing.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracked, and his breath catches when he speaks. “God. You’re just a fuckin’ baby, Kara. I’m so sorry.”

  The next morning, Kellen’s asleep in her room and I have to wait half the day for her to wake up. I almost lose my nerve. I can’t tell Mom, and besides, she’s not going to be home for another day.

  When Kellen comes downstairs she says nothing to me but grabs the coffee carafe and takes it to the sink. She has to walk past me to get the coffee grounds out of the cupboard and I notice her eyes—puffy and red, like mine.

  She’s scooping coffee grounds into the filter when she says, “Tad dumped me.”

  I swallow, unsure of what to say. Usually Kellen is the dumper.

  She spins around, holding the empty coffee scoop in her hand. “Nick was asleep on the couch when I got back. He was drunk. I had to drive his drunk ass home, and fucking Tad had his car keys. I can’t believe I ever let that asshole into my life. Did Nick stay here the whole night?”

  My lower lip quivers and I can’t stop it.

  “Carrot, what?” She slams her hands onto her hips, the coffee scoop dangling from her fingers.

  My sister is a blur.

  “What’s wrong, Carrot?” Her voice is softer now and I hear the clank of the coffee scoop as it hits the counter.

  The Mr. Coffee hisses, bubbling and popping as the first drips of coffee fall into the carafe and I try to stop crying.

  When I do, I tell her everything.

  She was furious at first and immediately she called Nick. When he didn’t answer she called Tad. When he didn’t answer, she threw a coffee mug against the wall, shattering it. After she calmed down she hugged me—the first hug I could remember in a long time.

  “I’m so sorry, Carrot. I will handle it, I promise you, Carrot, I’ll kill that bastard, I promise.” She reassured me. “I’ll deal with him.”

  She promised to take care of me. The whole day she tried to make me feel better with junk food I couldn’t manage to eat. She tried to play my favorite DVDs but all I saw was a screen with things moving all over it. Kellen braided my hair and painted my nails and did everything she could to get my mind off what happened. For a few days after, she kept asking me if I was okay, always hugging me and reminding me she’d handle it. It felt like I had the kind of sister that Gaby had.

  It didn’t last long.

  “He said he didn’t do anything, Kara!” Kellen yells at me, a week later. She had figured out when Nick got off work and planned to confront him in the parking lot. Before she left she kissed my cheek and told me she might even go to the cops after she talked to him.

  “I can’t believe you! How could you take his side? I’m your sister!”

  We are sitting on my bed. Mom and Dad aren’t home from work yet.

  “He said it was you! You had a list of first times, or first . . . things you wanted to do and kissing was one of them. He said you enjoyed it, Carrot! He said you tried to seduce him, that you practically had your hand on his crotch!”

  “Seduce? How would I know how to do that? I kissed him, that’s it. He did that other stuff later, Kellen! The kissing was one thing, but everything else? I didn’t want any of that! I was in bed, asleep and you know it! You believed me when I told you, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!”

  “Nick denies doing anything but kissing you, down on the basement couch. As if that’s not enough for me to deal with, and try not to remember every time we’re together down there!”

  What is she talking about? She doesn’t have to deal with anything—she wasn’t messed with, and she’s used to boys. “That night was my first kiss, Kellen. I wouldn’t have let him if I thought he would do that other stuff!”

  “You’re just a baby; you don’t know what you’re talking about. When you told me, you didn’t even make any sense. I knew you made it up. I was mad because of Tad breaking up with me. You shouldn’t lie about this kind of stuff, Carrot. You could get Nick into serious trouble if you keep this up!”

  18. Cool completely.

  ..........................................................

  Charlie paces, his face the color of flour as he runs his hands through his hair.

  I shouldn’t have told him.

  He exhales, puffing his lips out, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  I stare at the floor, counting the panels of oak. Dust bunnies converge around the base of the floor lamp. He turns on the water in the kitchen and I hear a glass filling up.

  He thinks it’s my fault.

  When he walks back into the room, he sets the glass in front of me and sits down.

  “So, you didn’t even tell your mom or anyone else?”

  I’m starting to get mad. Charlie can’t even say anything to make me feel better about this terrible thing I’ve never shared. “My own sister didn’t believe me, Charlie! How could I expect anyone else to? Kellen told me she’d handle it and then she didn’t. The night that she died, before we knew, Mom and I went for dinner and a movie. She’d just won a big case. She was giving me a little more attention. I almost felt like I could tell her, but I didn’t. Then of course she got the call from campus police the next morning and everything changed.”

  From the corner of my eye I see him nodding. The silence coming off him feels heavy and judgmental, and I know what he’s thinking—that I’m totally messed up. I hate myself for trusting him. Maybe I’ll just stay in San Francisco.

  The old furnace hums and then rumbles to life, sending heat into the room. We both look toward the grate on the wall by the kitchen. I bolt for the apartment door, swinging it open. “Obviously telling you was a huge mistake, so you can go no
w. Besides, you have to get back to work anyway and I’m not feeling so great.”

  He stays. When he makes eye contact I whisper, “Please, go. I need to finish packing.”

  I look away, down the steps. But when he passes me I know his eyes are on me.

  The next afternoon I take the Metro to the light rail station at Westlake. On the train I clutch my carry-on and suitcase close. I watch everyone: a grandmother, a toddler, it doesn’t matter. The pepper spray tucked into my bag gives me a little comfort, but it’s sweet relief when the train gets to the airport. There’s no way Mom can stop me now. She wouldn’t be able to find me. But I hope the note I left her will suffice.

  Mom, please don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll be back in a few days.

  Kara

  Once I’m sitting at my gate I breathe easier, but my mind wanders to the pepper spray again. I had to stick it back into my suitcase, so now I feel less safe, like everyone’s watching me, wondering why I’m traveling by myself.

  All the seats facing the window are taken so I’m forced to sit and watch the main drag that runs through the terminal. My heart beats too loudly, someone will hear it, I know. Even my breathing seems unusually loud. It’s like my body is trying to call out, telling the whole airport I don’t have permission to travel anywhere, and that my mom thinks I’m at school.

  It’s not until the plane’s wheels lift from the runway that I feel safe. And free.

  I’m on my way to the only thing I need: my future.

  For the two-hour flight I go over my contest plans, making notes for each step so that I maximize my allotted time. My heart pounds when the pilot announces our descent into San Francisco International Airport.

  The contestants who can afford to stay at the fancy hotel where the contest takes place get a free shuttle from the airport. The rest of us poor bakers have to catch a bus or taxi to San Francisco State University’s campus, where we get to stay for free in their dorms.