Love Storm

by Ruth Houston

  God. Was Zack confusing or what?

  Let's do a quick recap. First he ignored me for about a month, then I found out from Eva that he was leaving for Italy, and the day before he was scheduled to leave he came to my house in the middle of the night and kissed me? I thought he was deranged. Seriously. I did. He was hot, but very, very deranged. Hotly deranged.

  I sighed, frustrated. Hotly deranged? Since when were people hotly deranged? I was losing my mind. I wasn't even making sense to myself anymore. Then I remembered. Zack had shoved something in my hand last night – this morning, whatever – the point was, where had I put it? Suddenly, I was angry again, furious with Zack for doing this to me. I bounded up from the couch, filled with electric, incensed energy, and sprinted upstairs. What had I done with it? It had better give me a damn good explanation. What the hell made him think he could just – just – I nearly screamed.

  I tore through my room, not even really knowing what I was searching for since I had not gotten a good look at it before. I had been a little preoccupied seeing as Zack had had his tongue down my throat (not, of course, that I had been complaining then).

  "Okay Zackary Crowne," I spat to my empty room. "What did you give me last night?" My eyes glanced at my bed, jumped to my dresser, closet door, desk, carpet…

  There. There, on the floor near the end of my bed.

  I dove for it and my hand immediately recognized the familiar straight lines of the package. It was rectangular and about the length of my hand, and was wrapped roughly in brown paper, like it had been done in a hurry. I ripped off the wrapping paper, heart in my throat, and found…

  ...a cassette tape.

  I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it certainly had not been a cassette. I mean, a cassette? I hadn't seen one of these things in a long time. Goodness, I didn't think I even owned a cassette player anymore.

  I rushed to my window, opened it, and stuck my head out, screaming into the rain, "What the fuck, Zackary Crowne?! What the hell is this supposed to be? A fucking cassette? You can go rot in hell, you shit-faced bastard!" Luckily the rain muffled my yells, otherwise I would have had some very disgruntled neighbors to contend with. The rain was dripping steadily on my hair, and I pulled my head back in. "God," I ranted to my completely innocent, hapless room, "Fuckin' hell, Zack. I don't know if I hate you or if I –" I couldn't finish the sentence. "Christ," I muttered, pacing about. I stopped, glared at the stupid cassette, disgusted, and threw it down on my desk on top of some miscellaneous papers.

  "What the hell are you trying to do to me, Zack?" I whispered, collapsing on the carpet and resting my back against a wall. He was killing me here.

  It took a couple minutes for me to calm down, and by then, it was time for breakfast. My mother yelled at me to come downstairs. I rolled my eyes and hollered, "Be right there, mom."

  "Daddy?" I said later, after breakfast. I hadn't said a word throughout the whole meal until now. My mom had given up trying to engage me in conversation after numerous attempts. They both visibly jumped upon hearing my voice. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes again. "Do you have a boom box or something that has a cassette player in it?"

  "Hmm," he said, stirring the cream into his coffee and rubbing the stubble on his chin. He was hunched over his mug, still in his old maroon robe, contemplating my question. "I think there's one in the garage. Want me to get it out for you?"

  "No, it's okay," I said quickly. "I'll do it myself."

  "What do you need with an old boom box like that?" he wondered aloud, dark chocolate eyes that mirrored my own glancing at me in curiosity.

  I merely shrugged in response and nicely, "May I be excused?" Without waiting for the answer I knew would never come (everyone in my family simply asked the question out of habit and never expected a reply to it), I got up, put my plate and utensils in the sink, and made straight for the garage.

  It was a black, large, heavy old thing, but I managed to clean off most of the dust and drag it upstairs to my room, where I plugged it in and crossed my fingers that it would still function. I popped in the tape and sat down cross-legged on my carpet to listen, wearing Zack's jacket. The tape crackled for a bit, then the sound smoothed out, and his familiar low voice was amplified by the speakers.

  "Hey Winter. Um, it's Zack," he chuckled a bit, wearily. His voice sounded so sad it sent a sharp pain through my chest, and automatically I pulled the jacket tighter around my body and crossed my arms, curling up so I could breathe in his scent. Even if I was furious with him, for the life of me, I couldn't help myself. I had never washed this jacket because it still smelled really nice, just like him.

  "Look, you're probably furious with me right now, but I just wanted to give this tape to you. It took me the whole winter break to finish it. Think of it as a going away present of sorts, even though I'm the one going away. About that. Look, I'm really sorry, honestly, I've been an ass about the whole thing." I silently agreed. "I realize now that I should have told you sooner, but I guess I thought it would be easier if… Well… Actually, I don't even know the 'if', I don't even remember what I was thinking when… Never mind. I'm rambling. Anyway, I wrote all the tracks on the little slip of paper for you. My new address is on the back; if you're not too mad, it'd be really nice to get a letter from you, maybe? I promise I'll write back. You're my last link to Branner, California." I could hear the traces of a wistful smile in his voice. "Winter, for what's it worth, I'm so, so sorry about this whole thing, I know I screwed up, just please, please write to me, I'd love it if you would. Seriously. I'm going to be all alone in Italy; you don't know how much it would mean to me if you would just write. Thanks for… everything. You're a great friend, which is probably more than I can ever say for myself. I always feel like our relationship is unbalanced, with you giving me so much, while I'm only returning a little. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this. Oh, yeah, and the first song is one I've been practicing for weeks. It's by this composer who lived in the Romantic period; his name's Franz Liszt. Brilliant guy. Hope you like it."

  And with that, his voice was gone. Romantic period? What was that? I looked in the cassette case and found the piece of paper he had been talking about. It was folded up into fourths, and I opened it to find his familiar scrawl outlining 19 tracks – there were nine on the A side and ten on the B. The first was one was called "Waldesrauschen", which I couldn't pronounce. He had written in small print next to it that it was translated into "Forest Murmurs".

  The sound of wonderful piano playing filled my ears, and I knew instantly it had to be Zack. He was a pianist through and through; only he would have thought to give me a cassette tape of his playing.

  "Forest Murmurs" was beautiful. It was passionate, sad, and happy at times…I didn't have the proper words to describe it. Probably only a musician could have described it well enough. It sounded amazingly complex and difficult, and I could understand why it had taken him weeks to perfect it.

  While it rained outside, I stayed in my room for the next two hours, listening to the cassette all the way to the end. Zack was an incredibly gifted artist. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

  After the tape was over, I popped it out and fingered the slip of paper, turning it over and reading the address of his new school, which was located in Milan. What in the world would I write to him about?

  I decided to ponder this question later. On a spurt of reignited bitterness, I pushed all this aside, shrugged out of his jacket and my pajamas, and changed into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, deciding that Zack was gone, yeah it really, really sucked, but what could I do about it? Nothing for now, anyway. I resolved firmly that I would mull all this over later, and that today would not be a complete loss. Because today was the day that Eva and I were going to crack the case of Tristan's mystery girl. Eva and I had not been able to carry out our little reconnaissance over Christmas break because in a last minute change of plans, Eva had spent most of the two weeks at her mom's house in Hampton. Closer to
Tristan's work, but still, it wasn't the same if we couldn't do it together.

  "Hey," I said twenty minutes later, climbing into her car. She had gotten her driver's license, and had received an old but well-maintained Toyota sedan on her birthday from her aunt.

  "Hey," Eva grinned, sparkly and energized despite the rain. "Ready to rock and roll?"

  "Let's do it."

  It was simple. We had found from Martin that everyone who worked at the store had one day off per week. Tristan had chosen Saturday, Martin had Fridays off, this guy we didn't know whose name was Scotty T had Mondays off, and the only two girls who worked at Payne's took their break on Wednesdays and Thursdays, respectively – the rest of the people who worked there were irrelevant to our investigation. So we figured if we went on the day that Tristan had a break, we might be able to figure out which of the two girls was the one he was madly in love with.

  The bell jingled when we walked in, and immediately I was accosted by Martin, who had been fixing one of the window displays.

  "Winter!" He nearly tackled me into a hug, and I hugged him back, embracing his tall, muscular frame as best as I could. I couldn't even reach my arms all the way around his broad shoulders.

  "Hi Martin," I laughed. "Long time no see." Already I was feeling a little better – with both Martin and Eva, there was no way I could stay completely down in the dumps.

  "You can say that again," he said, grey eyes twinkling with happiness. "What are you doing here, babe?"

  "Just a little reconnaissance work," Eva said, winking at him.

  "Ah. You must be Tristan's lovely younger sister, the one and only Eva Westley." Martin grinned. "Nice to meet you. You and Tristan look remarkably alike." He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it with a great flourish.

  Eva giggled, sending a look towards me that said, 'Is this guy for real?' Not in an unkind way though. I could tell she was beginning to like him.

  "And you must be Martin," she said, smiling.

  "That I am. So what can I do for you today, ladies?" he asked, wrapping an arm around both of us and leading us towards the center of the store, where an interesting hexagonally shaped check-out counter was situated.

  "For starters, it'd be great if you wouldn't mention this little visit to Tristan," Eva said. I silently agreed, sending her positive vibes. Good thinking, Eva.

  "Sure thing," Martin replied. "Oh, hey, have you guys met Scotty T before? T, this is Winter –" He inclined his head towards me. "– and Eva, Tristan's little sis."

  Scotty T was a tall, lanky guy with electric blue hair, a lip ring, and a brow bar, and was dressed in faded jeans and the Payne's Sports blue polo. He nodded at both of us and said pleasantly, "Nice to finally meet both of you."

  "Likewise," Eva said. She carefully extracted herself from Martin's strong grasp. "I'm going to have a quick look around, if that's alright. I'll be right back. Winter?" She sent me a meaningful glance.

  I shook my head. "I'll just hang out here with Martin and Scotty T," I told her, sending her a subtle wink and mouthing over Martin's shoulder, 'Distraction.'

  She got it and wandered off.

  "Hey Martin, I'm going to go find Forest," Scotty T said, "See if I can get her to work some of her magic on the thermostat, because it's freezing in here."

  "Wanna grab me my coffee thermos while you're at it?" Martin called to him as he walked away. The manager gave a backwards wave to show he had heard.

  I hopped up onto one of the counters. "So how've you been lately, Winter?" Martin asked, leaning against the counter also and resting his hands on the edge of the polished wood. I shrugged, thinking about the question seriously instead of answering with the automatic "Good" that usually escaped my lips.

  "Could be better, I guess," I replied eventually, not really meeting his eye.

  He lifted a shoulder and lowered it again absently. "How so?" he said, then seemed to realize something. "It's that Zack person again, isn't it?" he said. "I knew it," he said angrily when I nodded. "That jerk. I'm going to kill him. What'd he do this time? That little punk."

  "You're going to have to fly halfway around the world to kill him, though," I said listlessly, "So good luck with that."

  Martin looked at me, clearly wondering if I was trying to make a joke, and I exhaled. "He's gone and moved to Italy," I explained, suddenly impatient and resentful again.

  "You're kidding," he said loudly. Several people turned to look at us and Martin glared at them.

  "I'm not," I said hotly. "He's really moved to Italy. Attending some American school or other."

  "Well, good riddance then," Martin said tartly, seemingly immune to my tone of voice. "How can he still be bothering you then if he's on a different continent?"

  I shrugged, unhappy now that the subject had been breached. This was supposed to be a fun afternoon, not a therapeutic session with my football-playing-track-sprinting-jock-extraordinaire of a substitute shrink. (Tristan was my regular counselor, though I would never call him that to his face.) "Dunno," I replied moodily, the anger draining out again. These mood swings really were not fun. "But he is." I didn't really want to tell him that Zack and I had kind-of-sort-of made out, because then I'd really have to be afraid that Martin would get on the next flight to Milan to beat the living daylights out of Zack. "He came to my house last night," I said, more to myself than anyone else. "And he gave me a going away present."

  "What was it?" Martin's previously coiled up stance relaxed a little.

  I glanced around the store, vaguely noticing that Eva was lurking around the soccer section and sending glances at one of the female workers. I couldn't see the girl's face, but I saw a head of red hair that happened to be just the color that clashed horribly with the Payne's Sports polo. "Some music," I said finally, wondering if that was Tristan's love interest.

  "Really."

  "Yeah," I said, not bothering to go into detail. Scotty T was back now, rubbing and blowing on his hands to warm them up and telling Martin to go do some inventory work or other, and Eva was making her way back towards us. I met her halfway, muttering something along the lines of "Be right back" to Martin.

  "So?" I whispered to her, pushing aside my conversation with him.

  Eva was smiling broadly. "Success," she said back in a low voice. "There's Possible Number One," she nodded in the direction of the girl with the red hair. The girl had turned now and I saw that she had pale freckles and even paler skin. I raised my eyebrows and Eva smirked.

  "…and there's Possible Number Two," she finished. I followed her gaze to a really pretty Chinese girl who was helping someone pick out a pair of shoes at the back of the store.

  I gasped a little. "Eva! That's Victor Lin's sister. I think her name's Katherine."

  Eva's eyes lit up. "No wonder she seemed so familiar. I knew I'd seen her somewhere before. Cool."

  "So?" I asked her again. "How goes the vote?"

  Eva considered for a moment, running a hand through her straight, blonde hair. "I'm banking on Number Two."

  "Ha!" I said triumphantly. We slapped a high-five. "Me too. Number Two it is."

  "Tristan is in for the ride of his life," Eva murmured as we watched Katherine Lin disappear into the back shoe room to find the right size hiking boots for a customer.

  I sighed, unable to keep my thoughts away from my inner turmoil for very long. Suddenly our victory didn't seem as great as I had thought it would be. "I suppose," I said softly.

  "What's wrong?" Eva asked, concerned, studying my face. I couldn't quite look her in the eye.

  "Nothing," I said. "Everything. Thanks for asking. Later, okay?" I tried to give her a smile.

  She nodded understandingly. "When you're ready, of course," she said, touching my shoulder gently, and this time I gave her a genuine smile.

  xxxxx

  "Hi Tristan," I said sweetly later that afternoon, plopping down into one of the kitchen chars while Eva used the bathroom. "What's up?"

  He was instantly on guard f
rom my tone of voice. "Nothing," he said suspiciously, ruffling the newspaper a bit and looking up from the Sports section. "The Kings won last night. You?"

  "Same," I said, quickly reverting back to my normal self. It wouldn't do to have him so wary of me so early on in our conversation. "Nothing, I mean. How was your day off?"

  "Good," he said, still not looking entirely convinced that I wasn't trying to pull one over his head. He rolled up the paper and tossed it into the recycling box. "Had pizza for lunch with some of the boys."

  "Let me guess. With Tyler, Ryan, Eric, and Roddy," I said. These were the names of some of his more decent friends. "Oh, yeah, and Martin," I said, feigning ignorance.

  "Nah," Tristan said, "Martin had to work today. Though why is still a mystery to me."

  "What do you mean?" I said curiously, forgetting my plan with Eva for a second.

  "Haven't you ever wondered?" Tristan asked me, arching his spine and tilting his head backwards, stretching luxuriously. "Martin's got money. His parents are probably pretty well off – he drives a BMV, for god's sake. So why is he working at some little sports store for just over minimum wage when he could be doing something else with his time?" He looked me in the eye, now done with his stretch. "Something to think about."

  "I don't know," I said slowly, realizing what he said was true. "Maybe he just likes it."

  Tristan shrugged. "Maybe." He took a swig of water just as Eva popped into the kitchen.

  "Hey guys," she said, grabbing Tristan's water bottle and stealing a sip. He groaned.

  "I hate it when you do that," he grumbled, snatching it back from her.

  "I'm hungry," Eva said, rummaging around in the cabinets. "Whatever happened to that box of Chips Ahoy I've been hiding from the kids?"

  "So that's what happened to it!" Tristan said accusingly, now sitting up straight in his chair. "I've been looking for that box."

  Eva offered him a grin and held up the said carton of chocolate chip cookies.

  "Gimme one of those," I said as she sat down at the kitchen table in her spot, next to Tristan, who also reached for one.