by Amy Durham
I couldn’t imagine a scenario when I’d feel comfortable in front of people, the way the class president role required, but I nodded anyway, because I didn’t want Mr. Austin to be too disappointed.
Vivian hadn’t waited for me. I’d told her to go on, since I needed a moment to talk to Mr. Austin. When I stepped into the hallway a few kids remained, wrapping things up before leaving for the day. One stop at my locker and I’d be ready to go.
“You sure weren’t thinking about running for office when you met up with us that first time.” Nikki’s voice came from behind me, just as I was throwing my backpack over one shoulder. “Or the second or third time. All you cared about was getting smashed.”
Apparently they’d eavesdropped on my conversation with Mr. Austin. Perfect. However, Nikki was sort of right. Maybe if I acknowledged that she’d go away.
“You’re right.” I shut my locker with more force than necessary. “I didn’t care about anything but forgetting.”
“And you were all too happy to let Nikki buy the liquor and drive you around,” Courtney sneered.
Ironic, that Courtney would accuse me of taking advantage of Nikki, and all the resources her stinking rich horse-trainer dad could provide, when Courtney herself was the original coattail rider. The fact that Courtney was the daughter of a single mom who jumped from man to man and didn’t care enough about herself or her daughter to stay clean and sober was not what made Courtney trashy. It was the way she super-glued herself to Nikki in order to maintain her social status. In the crazy, backwards way of obtaining popularity in high school, Courtney would’ve been nothing without Nikki.
On the other hand, Nikki was a real bitch who thought her rich parents could get her anything. Or out of anything. Like drunk driving charges.
“And wouldn’t the voting public like to know that the class president spent the summer getting totally wasted?” And she just proved my point. “Maybe we should just let that secret out.”
“If you listened in on my conversation with Mr. Austin, you already know I’m not running for president again,” I said.
“Still it would be quite the scandal,” Nikki suggested.
“Yeah.” This from Courtney. She was so brilliant.
“Why do you two want to torture me over this?” I pushed away from my locker and stepped away. “I did not abandon you on purpose, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be sorry I escaped the fallout. Both of you would’ve done the same. Even if I’d gotten caught with you, you’d still be in the same trouble you are now. I wasn’t driving. I didn’t wreck the car, and I didn’t have weed on me. That night was a wake-up call for me. It should be for you, too. The charges could’ve been even worse, or we could’ve all been dead.”
“Whatever.” Wow. Another intelligent response from Courtney. “You’ll regret skipping out on us.”
Time for this to end. And I would end it on my terms. I would have the last word this time.
“You drove drunk.” I pointed at Nikki. “And you had marijuana in your purse.” I pointed at Courtney. “Both of you just suck it up and deal with it. And leave me the hell alone.”
Nikki was closest to me, so I shoved her hard with my shoulder as I pushed past, leaving them in the hall while I made my way to the front sidewalk.
My phone buzzed just as I caught sight of my mom in the line of cars. A text from Adrian. I clicked to open it.
Hey Zoe. You ok?
Glancing toward the parking lot, I saw him standing next to his motorcycle. Had he waited for me? Or worse, had he overheard the confrontation with Nikki and Courtney?
I texted back.
Fine.
I watched him read the message, and sent him a small wave when he looked back up at me. He nodded and smiled, and a sense of comfort flooded me. He seemed so familiar, like I’d known him for years? How did he happen to show up or text at just the right moments?
As Mom and I pulled out of the school, another text arrived.
Call me if Pre-Cal gives you trouble.
My heart did a flip in my chest.
Sure.
Chapter 7
I managed my homework with only a couple of texts to Adrian. I really wanted him to come over, Pre-Cal or no, but I didn’t want to come across as desperate. I was also trying very hard to keep all things Adrian in the proper perspective.
Trying and failing miserably. Because the truth was, I was as taken with him as any girl had ever been with a boy.
Mom came home at her regular time and busied herself in the kitchen, while I sat on the couch with my cell phone, willing it to flash with an incoming text, and forcing myself to resist the urge to text him first.
On the mantle above the fireplace, the last family photo of my mom, dad, and me stared down at me. I rarely looked at it, instead choosing to forget about it. But in quiet moments like these, it was there, reminding me, mocking me, showing me all I’d lost, pointing out all my mistakes. On the lamp stand next to the sofa sat the only other picture of my dad still displayed in the house. I was four years old, and Dad and I were flying a kite together. Mom had removed the other pictures after the shit hit the fan, but she said she thought it was important to keep these two out, so that we wouldn’t forget that things had once been very, very good.
Yeah right. All I was remembering these days were the last few months. And they’d sucked. Big time.
“Have you met Mrs. Turner’s nephew?” Mom’s voice interrupted my gloom and doom.
“Adrian?”
“Is that his name?” she asked. “I guess if you know that you must’ve met him.”
I nodded. “He’s helped me with my Pre-Cal homework.”
“That’s nice.” Mom sat down on the couch with me, in that gesture that said she was about to open the lines of communication.
I stared at the aged blue upholstery of the sofa and resisted the urge to groan out loud. I did not want to have a heart to heart.
“I guess student government elections will be starting up soon,” she said. “That ought to keep you busy for a while.”
“I’m not running.” Closing my eyes, I did my best to prepare for the onslaught of questions.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want all that attention. I can’t handle it right now.” I still had not looked up from the couch cushions.
She didn’t immediately respond. I heard her take a deep breath, like she was gathering thoughts with which to berate me. I turned my cell phone over and over in my hand, wishing it would ring and give me an excuse to stop this conversation. I just didn’t have the ability to make small talk – or meaningful dialogue – with my mom.
“Zoe, you can’t hide forever.”
I didn’t know why the hell not. I said nothing, hoping she’d get the hint that I didn’t want to talk. No such luck.
“What happened with your father happened,” she said. “And it was awful. But you have to go on with your life sweetheart.”
I didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to argue with my mother. Could she please just leave it alone?
My non-response did not deter her. She plowed right on. “He’d want you to.”
“Move on?” I snapped. “Maybe you can. You’d already separated. You’d already removed him from your life. I didn’t get that luxury.”
“Luxury?” Mom sounded incredulous. “Zoe, it wasn’t…”
“Do you know how bad I wished I could divorce him the way you could?”
“We hadn’t decided to divorce. We were just…”
But I didn’t let her speak. I barreled on. “You have no idea what it’s like to know that I wanted him gone from my life, but knowing I could never get rid of him. I hated him. I wished I’d never have to see him again! And then to have that actually happen?”
“Zoe, I’m so sorry.” Maybe she was sorry for pushing the issue. Maybe she was just sorry about the shitstorm that had rained all over our family. Either way, it looked like she finally got the
point.
“Don’t lecture me about moving on with my life.” I managed to lower my voice enough that I wasn’t yelling anymore.
“I know this is complicated for you,” Mom whispered. “I just want to help.
“Then just stay out of my head.” I headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk.” I said. “I need some space.”
She didn’t try to stop me.
* * *
I’d always been glad that the paddocks of Bryton Farms were an easy walk from my house. The sight of the horses calmed me. The earthy smell of the grass sometimes helped put things in perspective. I leaned against a fence, gazing out toward a beautiful chestnut stallion, wishing I could think of nothing besides the gentle giant now strolling in the field.
The exchange with my mom still loomed heavy in my mind, and putting space between us hadn’t helped much. She wanted to help – I knew that – but I resented her interference just the same.
The rumble of a motor sounded in the distance. From the corner of my eye I caught sight of a shiny black motorcycle glinting as it topped a small rise in the road. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. Just one more example of Adrian’s uncanny ability to show up at the perfect time.
I stayed where I was, leaned against the fence, not even turning around as he pulled the bike to a stop. Happy as I was to see him, it wouldn’t do to act too excited, because that would give too much away. Plus, excitement was just not in my mood profile at the moment.
Adrian said nothing as he approached, eventually leaning against the fence next to me. His presence moved over me like a soft blanket of calm, and I began to feel the tension ease from my body.
I wondered if he had any idea the effect he had on me?
“You like the horses?” he asked, voice soft and deep.
I shrugged. “I don’t ride, but I like to watch them. They’re calming.”
“Upset?”
“Fight with my mom,” I said. Then I corrected. “Not really a fight. More of a discussion she wanted that I refused to have.”
He nodded, as if he knew I didn’t need advice. In that moment, it was his silent understanding that caused me to open the floodgates.
“My dad had an affair,” I said.
Chapter 8
If Adrian was shocked or surprised by my blurting out about my dad’s infidelity, he didn’t show it. He just stayed where he was, leaned against the fence, looking at me not with pity, but with a kind of understanding and compassion I couldn’t comprehend.
“He came clean to my mom back in the spring,” I said. Now that I’d cracked the ice, I figured why not let loose with all my baggage and drama. “A few weeks later they decided to do a trial separation and marriage counseling. That’s when they told me.”
He leaned closer. “Must’ve been hard on you.”
“I was so angry.” I turned my head from the horse and looked at Adrian. “I still am. In my mind, he’d betrayed me as much as he had my mom. We were a family. He was supposed to protect us, not tear us apart.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Adrian whispered, his voice sliding over me with so much serenity that I felt complete confidence and comfort in sharing the deepest, darkest part of my life with him.
The breeze picked up, cutting through the heat of the August evening. The soft touch of the wind encouraged me to keep going.
“They just sat me down at the kitchen table, like we were going to talk about where to go on vacation or something, but instead they destroyed my life. I was devastated. Too devastated to even cry. I just sat there staring at the tabletop. I knew they expected a response, but all I could think was how much I hated him at that moment. So that’s what I told him.”
“I’m sure you felt that way at the time.”
I couldn’t begin to put into words what it meant to me at that moment, to have someone just listen, and not try convince me that I’d overreacted, or try to persuade me to move on. Adrian just let me talk. And so far, no one else had done that.
Which was why I’d just stopped talking about it.
“I did,” I replied. “And for a long time after. Or it seemed like a long time anyway. In my mind, I knew I should regret what I’d said, but I just couldn’t make myself feel it. My dad kept trying to reconnect with me, even after he’d moved out. He’d call, but I’d refuse to talk to him. When he came by the house again I was just as nasty to him.”
Part of me wondered what in the world I was doing, unloading everything I’d been holding inside onto someone who was pretty much a complete stranger. But then Adrian’s calming presence wrapped around me, and my misgivings didn’t matter. Sometimes it was easier to confide in a stranger anyway.
“The first week of summer vacation, my dad died in a car wreck.”
He let out a heavy sigh and reached over to take my hand, his touch light and sweet. He said nothing. I was thankful again for his silent understanding.
“He was coming home from Cincinnati. It was raining. A pick-up truck hydroplaned and hit him.”
“And you were left with everything unresolved.” He squeezed my hand.
I nodded. “I feel guilty for that. And now, for the first time, I’m starting to miss my dad. But that doesn’t make the anger go away.”
“Let’s go for a ride.” He inclined his head toward the bike.
My insides lit up like a Christmas tree, bright and sparkling. I hadn’t felt that kind of energy in months. Me, on a bike with Adrian, forced to hold onto him? Yes, yes, and yes. It was almost enough to make me forget.
I fought for control of my enthusiasm. I didn’t want to appear over-eager. Glancing at his bike, then back at him, I said, “You only have one helmet.”
“I have a spare at the house.” His hand still holding mine, he walked us toward the motorcycle. “You can have this one for now, and I’ll stop at home and get the other.”
He handed me the helmet and I stared, not exactly sure how to put it on.
Adrian solved the problem. He took the helmet, slipped it on my head, and secured the strap beneath my chin. For a split second I wondered how ridiculous I looked, then decided I didn’t care.
He hopped on the bike and looked back at me. “You’re not scared are you?”
Scared? No. Unsure? A bit. But not enough to chicken out. Heart pounding, I climbed on behind him. He reached for both my hands, pulled my arms around his middle. The effect was instant and intense. Pressed against him like this, worry, stress, guilt, grief – they all just melted away.
“Hold on,” he said, and then turned to crank the bike.
I sighed. Like I’d want to do anything else.
* * *
Stopping at Ms. Turner’s house, Adrian went to the garage to get his spare helmet, and I texted my mom. With a quick apology, I told her I was with Adrian and would be home soon. I didn’t wait for a response before shutting my phone off and sticking it back in my pocket.
Adrian was back in less than a minute with a black helmet identical to the one he’d let me wear.
Mrs. Turned must’ve heard us, because she stepped out the front door.
“Hi there, Zoe,” she called from the porch.
I waved. “Hello Mrs. Turner.”
“Zoe’s going to show me the town, Aunt Maggie,” Adrian said. “From a teenager’s perspective.”
Mrs. Turner laughed. “I’m sure that’ll be interesting. Have fun and be careful.”
With a final wave, she disappeared back into the house.
Adrian turned toward me, slipping the helmet over his head. I didn’t know a lot about motorcycles, but his looked new.
“What kind of bike is this?” I asked.
“It’s a Suzuki Boulevard,” he answered, adjusting the chinstrap.
“Is it new?”
“Yeah.” He swung his leg over the seat and motioned for me to climb on behind him. “It was a present from my parents for my eighteenth birthday.”
“You’re already
eighteen?” I don’t know why the thought surprised me so much. He already seemed so much more mature than any of the other guys my age.
“August second,” he said, cranking the ignition. “When do you turn eighteen?”
“December eleventh.”
“So I’m only four months older.” He turned his head and grinned before rolling the motorcycle back onto Stableview Road.
I settled in behind him, arms around him, soaking in his strength as he effortlessly guided the bike to the bank of the creek that ran below his aunt’s property. The air moved against my skin like velvet, magnifying the warmth that spread from Adrian and into me. The blacktop wound and flowed with the hills, until I felt like we were somehow one with the road.
Adrian maneuvered the bike off Stableview Road and onto the main highway, pointing it in the direction of the town. In a matter of minutes, we rolled into the city limits.
“So tell me about Rison,” he said, turning his head slightly so I could hear him.
I leaned my head further over his shoulder and rested my chin there. “The usual stuff. Banks. Library. Courthouse.”
“That’s it?” he asked, slowing the motorcycle as we drove down Main Street. “What about that coffee shop over there?”
“That’s a new place,” I answered. “Seems to be a nice addition to the town. Not a lot of kids hang out there, though, because they’re only open during regular business hours. Plus it’s always full of people that work downtown.”
“Where do kids our age usually hang out?”
“The pizza restaurant over close to school,” I said. Releasing my hold on him long enough to gesture to the right side of the road, I continued. “Or the sandwich shop up there on the corner.”
“Maybe we’ll have to hit one of those places sometime,” Adrian said, making a loop through a parking lot and heading us back through town. “You can introduce me to the social scene of Rison.”
The thought had me smiling, even though I didn’t know when – if ever – I’d be ready to step out into that type of activity again. For now, it was nice to know that Adrian liked the idea of hanging out with me.