by Jessi Kirby
“Shut up.”
“No, there’s something else you should know, if you wanna talk about the truth.” He paused, then looked at me with eyes that flashed fierce with anger. “He didn’t give up a full ride and join the marines because he all of a sudden got patriotic.”
Something in me stilled, even though my heart pounded in my throat. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what a full ride means, Honor? It means he was going to school for free. To play football. Just like he wanted. He didn’t miss out on that chance, he gave it up. Changed his mind. For you. So he could pay for you to go to your stupid little dream school.”
“What are you even talking about?” I shook my head, took a step back. “I had money. Our parents left us money.”
“No they didn’t. Finn just told you that. Right after that trip you guys took to Austin, and you came back all bent on going there and nowhere else. You had your head so far up your ass about that, like you just assumed you could go wherever you wanted. So he figured out a way to make it happen for you, like he always did. You know what that was? Joining the marines for a paycheck and telling you your parents left you a college fund.”
“You’re a liar,” I said through gritted teeth.
Rusty snorted. “That’s one thing you’ve called me that I’m not.” He turned to walk away, then paused and leveled his eyes right at me. “I wish I was. But the truth is, him leaving—it’s all on you.” With that, he turned his back on me.
I sank down to the ground right where I’d been standing, hands on my head like they could block out what he said. But it was too late. Those words had already gone straight in and twisted up my insides into a knot of anger and guilt and ugliness. How could Finn have done that? I never would have said yes to that. And he never gave me a choice.
Beside my foot was a rock the size of my fist, and I wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed until my knuckles went white. Then I stood up with it heavy in my hand, wanting to break something.
And I did.
I brought my arm back and hurled it with all the force in me at the stupid No Parking sign bolted to the front of the kiosk that started this whole mess, but the throw was wild. The window above the sign exploded into a thousand jagged shards that clattered down onto the asphalt like glass rain. My breath left me. Rusty jumped and turned around, looking from me to the broken window. The two officers snapped to attention and started walking over quick, hands on their radios. And I stood there, out of breath, not feeling any better, but not wishing for a second that I could take it back either.
“Which one of you idiots threw that rock?” Officer Asshole boomed from a few paces away. He looked from me to Rusty, then back to me. I narrowed my eyes at him and got ready to tell him where to shove it. What did it matter now anyway?
And then Rusty laughed—a bitter laugh that sounded like trouble. I looked over as he put his hands in his pocket and stepped casually toward the officers. “I did, you jackass.” He motioned up at the kiosk. “Screw your stupid sign.”
Oh, no.
They looked at me like they didn’t believe him, like they knew just as well as I did that he hadn’t thrown the rock. And I wanted to say so, I did, but I just stood there dumb and frozen and in shock.
“What?” Rusty said, keeping his hands in his pockets. “You need an instant replay to do your job?” He turned his head to the side and spit. “Come on now, Officer Dick . . .” He pretended to squint at his name tag. “What does that say?”
Oh god, Rusty, don’t.
“Okay, Tex.” Officer Dixon smiled. “Have it your way.” In less time than it took me to open my mouth and try to set things straight, he had Rusty turned around with his cheek shoved up against the Pala and his hands behind his back. “You’re under arrest for vandalism and destruction of state property.” He reached to his belt and pulled out a set of shiny handcuffs, snapped one neatly on each of Rusty’s wrists, and squeezed them tight.
This is not happening.
“Little tight there, officer,” Rusty said through gritted teeth.
Dixon yanked him off the car and smiled. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” He turned Rusty around and started to walk him over to the patrol car, but then he paused and yelled over his shoulder to Officer Chase. “You got her?”
How can this be happening?
“Yeah, I got it,” Chase said. He turned to me with a look that seemed like he felt bad. “Anything you need out of your car before we take it? Purse? Wallet? Phone?” I hadn’t even noticed the tow truck pull up. I could barely breathe, let alone talk.
This really cannot be happening.
The driver got out and nodded to Officer Chase, who nodded back. Given the okay, he hopped up on the flat metal bed of his truck, unrolled a chain from somewhere, and walked it down to the Pala. To Finn’s car—the only thing I had left here and the last I had of him. I watched, horrified into silence, as he hooked it up.
What was there to say? That I was an awful, selfish person who’d been completely clueless about what other people were willing to do for me? That Rusty getting arrested, and Finn’s car getting taken away, and Finn joining the marines and dying were all things that happened because of me? Because everyone thought I needed to be taken care of?
Officer Chase must’ve thought so too, because before the tow truck driver turned on the winch to roll the car up onto the platform and take it away, he went and pulled my purse out. He handed it over like he pitied me, then gave me his card and the number of the impound yard. I took it numbly, without saying thank you, then walked away from him and sat on the curb, more pitiful than I’d ever been in my life.
The tow truck driver handed Officer Chase a clipboard to sign, and that was it. He got back in his truck and took Finn’s car away from me. Officer Chase glanced at me one last time, then he turned and walked over to the car, where his partner waited with Rusty handcuffed in the back of it. Because of me.
I couldn’t even look at him as they drove by because I hated myself so much for not standing up for him like he had for me. The thing I hated most, though, was the question repeating itself over and over in my head, because it was a selfish one that just confirmed everything Rusty had said about me. What am I supposed to do now?
29
I saw Rusty’s face in my mind as they drove away. How angry he’d been with me in one second, angry enough to hurt me the same as I had him, but then how, in the very next instant, he’d come to my defense. Saved me. And now, as I sat there on the curb watching cars come and go through the parking lot, another truth smacked me hard. There was no one left to save me. I was utterly alone, and it was undeniably my fault.
I stood, thinking that walking might help me sort out how I’d gone from coming to see Kyra Kelley’s farewell concert, and telling her about Finn, to sitting here alone in California, with his letter in my purse, Rusty in jail, and the Pala taken away. It was a crazy, tangled mess, but that didn’t surprise me, because honestly, I was too. How had I been so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t realize what was going on? How had Finn given up everything for me without me even knowing? Or giving me a choice? How had I just stood there and let Rusty take the blame and go to jail for me? How had I gotten here, to this place, where everything was wrong and it all came back to me?
I didn’t know how to begin facing those questions, or if I even wanted to, so I kept walking until I came to the highway, then pushed the button for the crosswalk. The green man flashed on the light, and I crossed the highway to the ocean side and found a path that rolled and wound along the bluff above the water. It seemed as good as any, considering my current situation, so I set foot down it, hoping it would lead to the sand and the water, where I’d found a little bit of peace before things went so wrong in so many ways.
As soon as I stepped onto the path, two nearly identical blond ladies blew by me from the opposite direction, talking and laughing and speed-walking two paces too fast for their little dogs, who t
railed behind. The sight of them, two girlfriends chatting together, made me think of Lilah and what she would say about this whole thing. She was off at orientation, with no idea I’d gotten in Finn’s car and driven all the way out here. With Rusty.
I almost smiled at the thought, because that’d be the first thing she’d be curious about—what it was like to spend so much time with him in the cab of the Pala. She’d want to know all the tiny details. I thought about which ones I’d tell her, where I’d even start. Maybe with how he ended up in the car with me in the first place, all drunk and angry. Or how on that first night in the campground he’d been mean enough to make me cry, or how he talked crude or tried to pee into my empty soda cup or drove in his underwear. Those would be the things she’d expect to hear, because they fit into what we’d both thought of him for so long. But none of that mattered now.
No. If I could call her right now and tell her anything, I’d tell her he was better than I’d thought. That I understood why Finn had loved him so much, because in spite of everything else, he was the kind of friend any of us would be lucky to have. The kind that looked out for you when you needed it and backed off when you needed it. And the kind who told you the truth when you needed that, even if it hurt. I couldn’t be angry at him for what he’d told me. I hadn’t just been yelling at Rusty about the sign. I’d unloaded everything on him—everything I was mad about, everything that seemed unfair, everything that hurt, because I wanted someone to blame for it all. And now I had only myself.
I put my head down and followed the curve of the path, not ready to think about that or Finn or the choices he’d made and what they meant. I couldn’t. Instead, I walked and walked until I came to a lookout place at the edge of the bluff, high above the ocean. It was foggy down below, so foggy I couldn’t even see the water that had sparkled for miles in every direction the day before. It was like it was gone, just the same as everything else that had been good in my life.
At that moment I wanted more than anything to see it again, and feel that big bursting feeling I’d had standing there looking at the ocean with Rusty, before I’d gone and ruined everything. I stood there forever, squinting through the fog, trying to get it back, but I knew I couldn’t. Perfect moments like that couldn’t be repeated. And horrible ones, like my argument with Rusty in the parking lot, couldn’t be taken back. I hoped, though, that I could somehow make it right.
I glanced around, and my eyes found a narrow trail that zigzagged down the bluff, into the fog. It had to lead down to the sand and the water. I could walk the beach and find where we’d been the day before, where I’d seen some buildings and maybe there’d be a payphone. I’d call Gina and tell her everything. And she’d be angry with me, but she’d know what to do, and she’d help me get Rusty out of jail and get Finn’s car back, and then . . . Well. I hadn’t figured out what then, but at least I had something to think about doing now.
I climbed, one leg at a time, over the rope that bordered the lookout and made my way down the steep trail, slipping more than a time or two on the loose rocks, and using the bushes along the sides to hold on to. By the time I made it to the sand, the back of my skirt was the same shade of brown as the trail and my hands smelled like sage brush, but I felt a little better already. I could smell the salt and hear the crash of the little waves, and even though I couldn’t see the ocean stretch out forever to the horizon, I could feel a twinge of that same expansive feeling from the day before. The water was a soft shade of gray in the morning fog, and the way it rolled up over the sand and then back was so calm and steady, I wanted to sit and watch it forever.
I sat down and pulled my boots off, then dug my toes into the cool of the sand and looked around. The beach was littered with all kinds of things—sticks and seaweed, a red plastic shovel, a few bits of shells here and there, all in a wavy line, like the ocean had washed them up then receded. I hoped none of the things were last night’s lanterns. I hoped they’d all made it to the horizon of peace and redemption, like the priest had said, or that they were still out there somewhere, their little lights twinkling through the fog. I hoped that little girl’s message had made it where it was supposed to go.
The thought struck me as ironic as soon as I had it, because it seemed like no matter where you thought you were supposed to be, life had other ideas. I was supposed to be at orientation today, getting ready to start my whole new life off at college, yet here I was, alone on the beach, all the way in California. And Rusty, he should be at football practice, getting yelled at by the coach for being a smart-ass but making a name for himself because he’s the best they’ve got.
And Finn . . .
He should be here, seeing the ocean with me. He should’ve been in the car with the windows down, singing “Wayward Son” with Rusty, and driving through the wavy desert heat. And he should’ve seen the sun rise from beneath the water in New Mexico and the stars streak white and sparkling over the red rocks in Arizona. Because the only reason I’d done any of those things was him and his “real letter” and the tickets he’d sent. Put your feet in the ocean, he’d said. Tell Kyra Kelley about your handsome older brother.
Her final show was in a few hours, and I was going to miss it. I’d made it all this way, and still, I wouldn’t see it. Not a chance I’d be able to tell her about Finn.
I watched the waves pitch up, then tumble down into foam, and thought how this thing was never really about going to see Kyra Kelley’s last concert, let alone telling her about him. If he were alive, that’s all the trip would have been about. But once he was gone, I’d used his gift as a reason to take his car and just go away from the truth of it for a little while. I’d put my feet in the ocean like he wanted me to, but he’d never know all the other things he’d given me.
Or maybe he could. Maybe I could tell him.
I opened up my purse and dug around, then came up with the only paper in there—Finn’s crinkled letter. I opened the pages in my lap, smoothed out the creases as best I could, thinking about what I wanted to say back to him. I didn’t need to think about it long, though. When I took the pen from my purse and pressed the tip to the blank side of the first page, words came fast and I poured it all out.
I told Finn he’d been crazy to do what he did for me, and that I never would’ve let him give up everything for me to go to UTA if I’d known. I told him I was mad that he’d lied to do it but that I understood why, because he’d been protecting me our whole life. And now that I knew the truth, it was gonna stick with me for the rest of mine. But then I told him I was glad I knew what he’d done, because I wouldn’t have to wonder about all the whys anymore. He hadn’t enlisted for some reason none of us would ever understand. He’d done it for me. Because he thought it was the right thing to do. I told him I admired him for that and for everything he’d done and been, and that Rusty was right when he said that some people are just better than the rest of us.
Then I told him I found out Rusty was that way too. I told him how Rusty had stuck by me since the funeral, in spite of losing his best friend and knowing I’d been the reason. How he’d taken my Kyra Kelley idea and seen me through the desert and the pouring rain and more desert, all the way to the ocean. I told him about the rope swing and our tequila night (minus the kiss), and how I knew the joke about the Pala now. And I told him he’d be proud of Rusty for all of it. Especially what he’d done for me that morning.
I don’t know how long I sat there writing, but I covered his letter and the backs of the tickets with all my thank-yous and sorries and memories, all my sadness and gratitude and hope. And at the end, before I said my good-bye, I promised my brother I’d be as good as he had been and I’d make sure that what he’d done for me was worth it.
When I finished, I folded it up, matched my creases with his, and sat quiet a few moments, listening to the sound of the waves and breathing in the salt air. Writing a letter wasn’t gonna change or fix anything, I knew that. But it felt good to lay it all out there, all the things I’d
felt and wanted to say but hadn’t been able to until now.
I stood and tucked the letter in my back pocket, not exactly sure what I wanted to do with it yet. The sun had melted the fog just down the beach, and patches of warm light spread out slow and golden over the sand like honey. I grabbed my boots and headed that way, following the waterline so I could walk in the wet sand and let the ocean roll over my bare feet, just like he’d said to do.
30
A few hours later, I’d walked the entire beach up and back, explored the area at the bottom of the stairs we’d come down the day before, and found that while there was a restaurant and some little vacation cottages, there was no pay phone anywhere. There were plenty of people around, pretty people who made me wonder if everyone came to eat breakfast on the beach dressed like movie stars. There were also the people who obviously came to enjoy the beach with their families, lugging kids and chairs and coolers along with them. But I hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask any of them if I could borrow their cell phone to call my aunt in Texas to bail out my friend who’d been arrested in the parking lot that morning.
Instead, I’d found a wooden picnic table on the sand and claimed it as my own, just in case I was gonna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I stretched out on the bench, eyes closed with my face to the sky, hoping that if I listened hard enough, the universe might take pity on me and whisper something again. It didn’t, of course. So after a little while, I stopped listening so hard and just kind of drifted with the sounds of the waves, in and out of the shade from the clouds that passed over the sun, and that way, I was almost able to convince myself that I was here under totally different circumstances. Like maybe a road trip with Lilah or a vacation somewhere tropical or—
“Worried sick, huh?”
I shot up. “Rusty?” It was. Standing right over me with one hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face. I didn’t think it was humanly possible to be that thankful to see anyone, but I was on my feet with my arms wrapped tight around him before he could say another word. There was so much I needed to tell him, I didn’t know where to begin. “Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry. For everything. I—and then you—I didn’t deserve what you did for me back there,” I said, finally getting it out.