Carter caught his breath and responded, “I definitely know where Alexa gets her moves from.”
I peeled myself off the pavement and walked on over to them. “This is why I always kick your butt, Carter.”
“I’ve taught her a few things, but she’s just naturally talented.” Dad tickled my armpit. “Well, I better get back to the house. Alexa’s mother will have my head if I don’t help out with dinner.”
“Um, Mr. Moore…I mean Martin.”
Dad turned back around. “Yes?”
Carter swallowed audibly. “Do you think maybe you could come over sometime and show me some more moves?”
Dad lit up like a birthday cake. “I’d be honored,” he said as though he was just dubbed the World’s Greatest Dad. “Does your father ever play with you?”
Carter looked away, his expression turned positively sullen. “He’s not much into sports.”
By the perplexity on Dad’s face, I think he knew he hit a nerve. “Well don’t you worry, son. We’ll make up for that.” Dad squeezed Carter’s shoulder as though kneading dough. “You come knock on my door anytime.”
Carter shot him a despondent half-smile and almost whispered, “Thanks.”
“Well, I got to run,” Dad said as he whipped out a pack of Camels from his pant pocket. “Alexa, be home in thirty minutes for dinner, okay?”
“Sure, Dad,” I replied, waving him off.
Dad made good on his word. I found the two of them playing a game of basketball in Carter’s driveway at least once a week—a game in which I was not included.
I won’t deny it. I was jealous as hell. My dad was paying attention to someone other than me for the first time in my life, and I was not used to this type of behavior. It rubbed me the wrong way, and in a sense, I felt like Carter stole my father away from me and that my father stole my friend. Then again, I remembered that Carter wasn’t as blessed as I was in the parental department. I came from a home with a happily married mother and father. Carter, on the other hand, had a mother who was more cold and bitter than the dead of winter. Being resentful of someone who was less fortunate was really an unflattering trait. Mom taught me at a young age not to be selfish and that everyone in the world needed to learn how to share. Knowing how much I adored Carter, that was my only choice. I had to share my dad or risk losing a potentially dear friend in the process. Who was I to interrupt their male bonding experience? On the bright side, it pleased me to know how much happier Carter was on the days he spent with my father. My dad took time out in his day to spend with a boy whose father was just not there for him. In doing so, Dad gave Carter memories that his real father would never attempt to make.
Chapter 5: The Unanticipated
The anxiety stewing inside Aiden Storm for the last several weeks finally reached its boiling point as he waited to present himself to 10,000 screaming fans. He was feeling overwhelmed and it was only the second show of his first North American tour. The amount of people cheering his name in one arena was like nothing he’d ever seen. Once he stepped out on that stage, there was no turning back.
His first show in New York City got rave reviews, but now Aiden knew each performance had to outdo the other and this put a huge amount of pressure on him.
“Aiden,” his mother shouted, “don’t screw up.”
She refused to call Aiden by his birth name. In Mary’s mind, Carter Storm ceased to exist the moment she made her son sign on the dotted line. Unfortunately for her, he’d be eighteen in a couple months, and she’d no longer have any control over him. Whether his mother was ready or not, reality was about to come crashing down on her, and the nightmare of Aiden being manipulated like a puppet was about to end.
The crowd cheered wildly the minute the music started up.
“Aiden, it’s time.” Hue gave him the thumbs-up.
Aiden’s breathing finally normalized, and without further delay, he made his way to the front of the stage.
“HOW YA DOIN’, ORANGE COUNTY!” His voice echoed through an audience of pubescent girls who waved around flashy, colorful signs and snapped pictures.
This was the moment he dreamt about since he was a kid, and now even critics were calling him an overnight sensation—a title that was more than Aiden ever expected.
Through the mist and lights, five dancers came out from behind the stage and dazzled the crowd with their choreographed moves. Aiden made the audience swoon with every bump and grind.
“Baby, I’ll never be like him. In my heart you’ll always win…”
***
Having the opportunity to go to the Aiden Storm concert with Ruth was like a dream-come-true for me. I even envisioned Carter seeing me in the crowd during the show, and him instantly recognizing my face. Unfortunately, I had no way of ever making that dream a reality. I walked out of the arena with nothing but hopelessness raging inside me. I waited six long months to see that show, and in less than two hours it was all over. When the concert ended, that was that. Carter probably forgot about me altogether as far as I knew. One day I’d come to accept the fact that Carter Storm was a teenage superstar and no longer my boy next door.
I was watching television with my dad in his bedroom that night after the show. He rested comfortably on the bed with his head propped up against a pillow.
“So how was it, sweetheart?” he asked.
“It was really cool. I just can’t stop thinking about how bizarre it was to see Carter on stage.”
“Well, you said it from the beginning. You knew Carter was going to make it.”
“So did you, Dad.”
“You still miss him, don’t you?” He pinched my cheek. “Aw. I think you’ll run across each other again one day.”
“I don’t know, Dad. He’s pretty untouchable right now.”
“It won’t always be like that. Trust me. Even the brightest stars fade over time.”
“We'll see,” I said. “Hey, Mom said you aren’t feeling well.”
“Oh, it’s just a little acid reflux. A little worse than usual, that’s all,” he explained. “Hey, be a pal and grab your old dad his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, would ya?”
“Dad, you know Mom doesn’t like you smoking in the house.”
He shot me one of those pathetic puppy dog looks that never failed to make me feel sorry for him. I would do anything for my father, even if it wasn’t the greatest judgment call. I handed him a pack of cigarettes out of love, and watched him light up.
Mom was in the bedroom within seconds. Sometimes it was like she had this sixth sense when it came to Dad smoking.
“Martin, you are really unbelievable.” She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her look of disapproval was evident. “I leave you alone for a few minutes, and—”
Dad released the cigarette into an empty coffee cup on the nightstand next to him, and waved the smoke away with his hand. “Oh, I ain’t doing nothing.”
“Alexa, I need to speak to your father alone please.”
I did as I was told with my heart clenching like a vice. Mom closed the bedroom door upon my exit, but it didn’t do any good. I stood outside the doorway, listening to her rip him a new one.
“Martin! You know those cigarettes are going to be the death of you. When will you get that through your thick head?”
“What do you expect me to do, Denise? I’ve been smoking since I was twelve. You think I’m just going to stop overnight?”
“You don’t get it, do you? You’ve been complaining all day that you’ve been feeling ill, and now I catch you in here smoking in front of your daughter.”
“Oh come off it, Denise. I haven’t had one all day. Cut me some slack.”
“You just broke your promise to me, Martin.”
“Honey, you’re making this worse than it really is.”
“You know damn well what the doctor said at your last checkup. I will not sit here and watch you die a slow death.”
A stab of guilt took me by surprise. The only time they really fought
was when it came to Dad and his undying love for cigarettes. Mom would never accept the fact that it was a losing battle. At that particular moment, she really should have yelled at me. I was the one who gave into my father’s impulses. Although at times, I thought Mom was a little too hard on Dad when it came to his bad habit. Yes, he had smoked nearly all his life, but some people can smoke like chimneys and live well into their eighties. Dad was one of those people. Besides, I never saw him go down unless he had the flu. We had nothing to worry about. My family was immune to anything that could destroy us.
***
The story of how my mother and father met isn’t a pleasant one. Both my parents were living in the small town of Ozawkie, Kansas. When my mom was sixteen, she worked almost full-time at her parent’s small restaurant, Sunny Sue’s Diner. She spent most weekends and evenings waiting tables. My mother’s father, Ben, thought it was more beneficial for her to start learning the ropes of the working world rather than get a solid education. Besides, it was a family business. Who needed college when the most knowledge required for the job was simple math to count tips? After Mom graduated high school, she worked the diner from dusk until dawn, seven days a week. This is also where she met my father.
Dad was just a “handsome hick from the sticks,” as she liked to say. He was nearly ten years older than she, and barely made enough money to afford a cup of coffee. Dad was always polite and particularly mild mannered. He was the quiet one who came in before his shift at six thirty in the morning, and usually ordered nothing more than a plain old cup of black coffee. They got to talking every once in a while and had some great conversation about life outside of Kansas. Sometimes Dad would come in late at night after Mom’s shift was over, and they would sit in a booth and talk for hours.
Mom’s father caught wind of this and didn’t like it one bit. In fact, it practically put him in a tizzy. Everyone knows everything about each other in a small town. Mom’s father knew all about Martin Moore and his family history way before he ever stepped foot in that diner for his thirty-cent cup of coffee.
My father’s mother, Alexandra, died from breast cancer when my dad was just five-years-old.. For as long as Dad could remember, it was just him and his father, Duff, trying to make ends meet where they both worked at steel manufactory company on the assembly line. Sadly, Dad’s father came down with a serious case of tuberculosis, which caused his father to become bed ridden. Everything at that point in time was left up to Dad. My mom’s mother, Sharon, said my father had no future and would never be able to support himself, let alone a family.
Mom grew up in a family where she was criticized for everything. Nothing was ever good enough for her parents. When you own a diner (or any commercial business in Kansas, for that matter) you are considered one of the upper class. My mother lived in a rundown, two-bedroom apartment with five other mouths to feed. Yet, people in town still somehow considered the Gardner family prominent.
The rule was that as long as she lived under her father’s roof, Mom was to abide by his regulations. Even at eighteen, she was forced to comply. By that time, Mom liked Dad so much that they secretly began dating behind her father’s back. But of course, that secret didn’t last long. Like I said, Ozawkie is a small town. Someone eating at the diner happened to mention that they saw her with Martin at a drive-in. My grandfather was furious. That was the day her parents gave Mom an ultimatum: Either she stopped seeing Martin Moore, or find another place to live. Mom was torn by this choice since Dad was the first man she’d ever fallen in love with.
Well, they say everything happens for a reason. That same day, Dad’s father passed away, and come to find out, his father had left him a decent amount of money that he had secretly stashed over the years.
That same night my parents met up at the local church parking lot to discuss the pending dilemma. Dad told Mom he had enough money to go to California and start a new life. Most importantly, he wanted her to come with him. Mom didn’t have to think twice about it. She said “yes” instantaneously—and there was one other thing—Dad wanted to marry Mom as soon as possible. Before they left town the next day, they married at the same church where Dad proposed his secret getaway plan. After the justice of the peace pronounced them husband and wife, they flow down the highway in Dad’s beat-up two-tone Ford truck. Off to California the lovebirds went, where the two settled themselves in Orange County in a one-bedroom apartment. My father immediately got a job as a dishwasher, and made it known that he didn’t want my mom to work. He was determined to be the sole provider, but dishwashing just wasn’t cutting it. In his search for bigger and better things, an opening for a car salesman position came along. He applied and got the job, and it happened to pay well enough that he was able to buy a decent home in Irvine. The timing was perfect. My mother had just become pregnant with me.
Our family is quite small as you might have gathered. I have no aunts, no uncles, and definitely no grandparents. When my parents abandoned their hometown, they left everything and everyone behind, and that was the price they had to pay to be together.
***
I expected the usual warm welcome home greeting after school the next day. I instead came home to an empty house. Our regular routine was to leave a note when someone would be home late, but Mom hadn’t left as much as a scribble. I figured she was out shopping and forgot about the time.
While she was away, I entertained myself in front of the television by watching some MTV. When nine o’clock rolled around, I still hadn’t heard from either one of my parents. I couldn’t ever recall a time when they let me sit at home alone for hours. Something was definitely up.
A heavy knock on the front door jolted me from drowsiness.
“Alexa…”
A short and round matronly woman stood on my porch and stared at me as though she was unsure of herself. Her dark shoulder-length hair appeared curly and wet, and I took notice of her faded Mickey Mouse shirt and tight white-washed shorts that amplified the cellulite on her legs.
“Do you remember me?” she asked, hesitantly. “I’m Rose Cooper. Your mother used to bring you on play dates with my daughter Sarah years ago.”
At the mention of the name, I snapped to recollection. Rose Cooper was the first friend Mom had made when she moved to California. I was about five- years-old when I was introduced to Rose’s daughter, Sarah. She was two years older than me, and had strawberry-blonde ringlets and skin as white as milk. She and I had several get-togethers in the play yard at the Burger Klatch. Mom and Rose would gossip and enjoy some girl talk while Sarah and I tackled the monkey bars and chased each other down the slide. These play dates happened a couple times a week for about a year.
Out of the blue one evening, Rose came to our house visibly distraught. I watched the scene from the kitchen as Rose cried hysterically and explained to Mom that Sarah was missing. Before Sarah disappeared, she’d been riding her bike through the neighborhood. Naturally, Rose became distressed when Sarah wasn’t home by sundown. She combed the streets for several hours, but Sarah was nowhere to be found. Of course, I was too young to understand the severity of this situation, but I overheard conversations and recognized such words as, kidnapper. My parents had always warned me against talking to strangers. I was privy to the fact that one of these evil strangers took Sarah against her will.
The details that ensued after Sarah’s disappearance were quite gruesome. A day later, someone reported a child’s naked body dumped in a ravine just off the 91 freeway in Riverside County. No one wanted to believe it was Sarah, but when the police found her pink princess bike in a ditch close to where the body was discovered, it became every parent’s worst nightmare. What was even more unspeakable, the kidnapper turned out to be Rose’s ex-husband’s twenty-five-year-old nephew.
Mom rarely saw Rose after the tragedy, and over time, I forgot about her and Sarah altogether until the moment she knocked on my door.
“Yes, I remember you,” I said softly. At the memory, a chill ran up
my spine.
Rose smiled and a glimmer of tears glazed her eyes. She placed an unsteady finger under my chin and said, “Wow. You’ve grown up so much.”
When she touched me I flinched, as if her daughter’s misfortune might somehow be contagious. “My parents aren’t home.”
“I know. Your mother called me.”
Clearly, I was confused. “My mom called you? Why?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your father is in the emergency room. She sent me to come get you.”
***
I don’t think I ever saw Mom in such a distraught state as I did that evening. I arrived in the ICU and found her sitting by Dad’s room with a grief-stricken look upon her face. She stared at the wall with her designer black mascara running down her cheeks. She saw me coming down the hall, but I didn’t detect a hint of recognition.
Rose gave us some space shortly after we arrived, and went to go get herself a cup of coffee. All Rose had told me on the way to the hospital was that my father was sick.
“Alexa—” Mom held back tears. “I need to tell you something, okay?”
“Mom, what happened?” I asked as my heart pounded against my ribs.
She took a deep breath. “Your father... he... he had a heart attack at work,” she stuttered between sobs.
“But he’s alive?” A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed it down. “Right?”
“Yes,” she answered, pulling me in close and holding me tighter than she had in her life. “He’s alive.” I could feel her trembling.
“Can I see him?”
She gazed at me as though contemplating my request. “Okay, but you need to prepare yourself. This isn’t a memory I want you to have of your father.”
We walked hand in hand into Dad’s hospital room. Unfortunately, even the strongest person on Earth could never have prepared themselves for the inevitable that was about to come into my vision. Dad had a bunch of machines and tubes hooked up to his body, a ventilator attached to his mouth, and his face had turned the color of clay.
Forever Blue Page 7