by Carrie Arcos
I handed the older man the picture when he asked for it. He looked at it for a long time. His friend next to him kept shaking his head while he picked at a scab above his right elbow.
“Does he have a tattoo?”
“Yeah, one on his arm,” Tyler said.
The man nodded and gave me back the picture. I smoothed out the edge that had bent where he’d held it.
“He play guitar?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What’s his name?”
“Micah.”
“Micah. ‘Who is like God.’ Hard name to live up to.”
“Micah is nothing like God.” I didn’t have time for small talk. Time was not on our side, but I tried patience. “Do you know where he is?”
“You spare a cig?”
Tyler handed him one and lit it for him.
“Can you tell us where we can find him?” Tyler asked again.
“Hard to tell. Hard to tell.” The man smoked like he was eating his first meal of the day. “The wind. People move like the wind.”
I sighed. The man was crazy. He probably should be in a mental institution.
“Jimmy would know,” his friend suddenly said. “He’s been here over thirty years.” Blood oozed from his open scab, but he kept scratching at it.
“He looked good, real good. Maybe he’ll be here today. You never know. You family?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes you got to give a person space. He’ll come around.”
I wondered why people felt they could give unsolicited advice. To tell the truth, I was getting tired of it. “How long did it take you to come around?”
He smiled without showing his teeth. “I’m taking my time.”
“He doesn’t know anything,” I said to Tyler.
“No, he doesn’t. Let’s go.”
“Okay. If you do actually see him, can you tell him his sister’s looking for him?”
“What’s your name?”
“Rachel.”
“Come here.” He motioned to me. Tyler moved nearer to me, but I gestured that it was all right. The man asked for my hand, and for some reason I gave it to him, as if it would be the most natural thing for him to read it and tell me my future. He drew a small heart with his finger in the middle of my palm and closed it with his calloused hand.
“Love. The most powerful drug of all.”
I smiled at him. He dropped my hand, but I could still see the shape of the heart as if it had been tattooed.
“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.
The man smiled at me as if I had made his day. Love. It was simple, really. That’s all that mattered. It was what brought me here. It was what kept me looking for Micah.
* * *
We crossed the intersection, passed the coffee shop we had visited earlier in the day, and walked down the street toward my car. We had gone a few blocks before Tyler stopped.
“Does this feel right?” he asked, looking back the way we came.
“Umm. I don’t know. Did we pass it?” I stood next to him, looking in the same direction.
“You don’t remember?”
“I think it must be back there.” I always had this problem. It took me forever to find my car after I had parked it. I usually asked whoever was in the car with me to remember. I had forgotten to ask Tyler that morning.
We turned around and walked back, but the car wasn’t anywhere alongside the curb. I stopped again and walked back past the parked cars. Almost every meter was taken by someone else’s car.
My heart started to race. “I know we parked on this side.”
“You sure?” Tyler asked. He didn’t follow me, but looked up and down both sides of the street.
“Yes,” I said, though I was only, like, 70 percent sure.
I stopped in front of an empty space, and I suddenly felt sick. This was the spot. My car should have been right here.
“Try the alarm,” Tyler called, jogging toward me.
I pushed the alarm button on my key chain a couple of times, pointing it in all directions. Nothing.
“I can’t believe this. Are we that late? Did they tow it?”
Tyler stood next to me by the curb. He took out his iPhone to check the time. “No, we’re still early.”
“Someone stole my car. My parents are going to kill me.” I sat on the curb and kicked an empty beer can out of the way. Tears began to form.
Tyler started dialing.
“Hello. I’d like to report a stolen car.”
The police? I mouthed.
He nodded and gave the police the make and model, and the street we were on. He asked me for some information and was on the phone for a while before hanging up. “We can either wait for the police to come here and file a report, which could take forever, or go to the station, or go online.”
I put my head in my hands. “Online? Aren’t they going to put out an APB or something, whatever they call it? So they know what to look for?”
“Um, that would be in TV land. The guy on the phone said it could take a month to find the car.”
“A month?” My voice wavered and I felt as if I were really going to cry.
“He said that Hondas get stolen for parts all the time, especially in this area.”
“What am I going to do?” It was hopeless.
“Eat.”
“Eat?”
“Yeah, you can use my phone to fill out the form.” Tyler sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, thankful for the comfort.
“My dad will be pissed when he finds out that I lied about coming here, and that I’ve lost the car.”
After finding the car on craigslist, my father and I had driven an hour to check it out before we’d bought it from an older woman. Dad put up the cash, and I had a payment plan. After I gave him the first two payments, he cancelled the debt, saying that I had proven I could be responsible. He told me not to say anything to Micah, but Micah told me later that Dad had done the same thing when he got his car the year before. Neither of us let on to Dad that we knew about the other.
“We won’t call your dad. We can get someone else to pick us up.”
“He’ll notice I don’t have my car anymore.”
And he’ll kill me, I thought. Right after he kills me for being in San Diego in the first place.
“Yeah, that may be a bit of a problem. You have insurance, right?”
“Of course.”
Oh God. The insurance will go up.
“It should cover theft. You’ll have time to come up with a really good story to tell your dad. Or work up the courage to tell him the truth.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “I can’t believe someone stole my car. It’s not even that nice.” Micah had always made fun of it by calling it an old lady’s car—and it was. I’d gotten it from an old woman who had kept it in mint condition.
Tyler stood up. “It’s been a shitty day.”
I hobbled getting up, and he reached for my hand. He steadied me for the second time that day, and didn’t let me fall.
Chapter Ten
Tyler paid for the pizza at the counter and carried the tray to a table by the window where I sat.
“Good thing you didn’t leave everything in the car,” he said, nodding toward my backpack. He took a huge bite of the pepperoni pizza. As he pulled away, a long string of cheese stretched between his mouth and the slice.
“Just my phone. I suppose that’s not life-altering in the grand scheme of things.” I pulled out my notebook and a pencil so I could write down the information from the police website that Tyler had found. I opened it to today’s date before I remembered Tyler had left his backpack in my car. “I’m sorry about your backpack.”
He shrugged. “I have my wallet and phone. No worries.”
“You’re so calm,” I said. I took a few notes.
“Hmm?” He wiped the grease from the corners of his mouth.
“I can’t handle it when things get too craz
y, you know? Sorry about the reaction back there.”
“What?”
“The tears.”
“I didn’t even notice. Besides, it wasn’t my car.” He took another large bite.
“True. But you could have freaked out. Now you’re stranded here with me.” I realized we hadn’t figured out how to get home. “By the way, how are we getting home?”
“Already handled. Jones is free. He’ll come when I call.”
Mitch Jones was another friend of Micah’s, one I didn’t care for too much. He appointed himself the band’s manager, and I guess he did a good job. They had gigs all the time. But I didn’t like the way he looked at me and the way he smelled like BO.
“This webpage is so small. Not that I’m complaining.” I was trying to make it bigger with my fingers. “And when did you get an iPhone?”
“Parents. Benefits of being the only child. You should eat.” He pointed to the pizza.
I put down the phone and took a bite. “This is the best pizza in the world.”
Tyler laughed. “You’re hungry and it’s the grease.”
“What?” I said with my mouth full.
“From the pepperoni. Good stuff.”
I took another bite, and some of the cheese slipped down the sides of my hand and onto the table. “Oops. Pizza is not great date food.”
Tyler looked at me kind of funny. I turned my attention to the pizza while stuttering out, “I mean, not that this is a date or anything, but just a note for you and your future dates.”
“Note taken.” Tyler smiled with those dimples, and took a sip of his soda.
Tyler’s smile was disarming, but I tensed, as if I had to be on guard. You never really knew what lurked behind a good smile. Some Shakespeare play I had to read for a class had a quote about that, something about a serpent’s heart hid with a flowering face. Just because Keith had turned out to be a snake didn’t mean every guy would be the same, right? I wondered how long it would take for me to be able to trust again.
I desperately wanted to change the subject. “If I haven’t told you yet, thanks.” I was grateful for his help. I hadn’t known what to expect from the day, and Tyler’s kindness was turning out to be unexpected for sure.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” I kept my eyes on the food. “You’re good in a crisis. You should be a fireman or something.”
He laughed. “Yeah, a fireman.”
“Yeah, like those hotshots, the ones who jump out of planes. Lola’s dad used to be one.”
“No way.”
“You could do it.”
“What part of someone jumping out of a plane into fire appeals to you?”
“I don’t know. Saving things, like homes or people. It probably feels good helping people like that.”
“I don’t need to be anyone’s personal savior. I’ll leave that to someone else. You want a refill?” He was already on his feet and grabbing my nearly empty cup.
I watched him walk away and was glad that I hadn’t come to Ocean Beach alone. Tyler stood with his back to me at the soda fountain, and I found myself checking out his broad shoulders. I imagined his lean muscles stretching across his back underneath his shirt, and remembered when he and Micah would practice in the garage in only low-riding shorts because of the heat. I shook my head to remove the image. This was Tyler, not someone to check out.
He turned, walked back, and grinned when he caught me looking at him. I felt stupid. Out of all Micah’s friends, he was definitely the cutest. It didn’t seem like he dated much, even though being in a band pretty much solidified that he could if he wanted to.
I took a drink from the cup he handed me. The Dr Pepper burned a little going down.
“So what do you want to do?” I asked.
“Right now? Finish this pizza.” He reached across the table for another slice.
“No, I mean, you know, in your future.”
“What is this? Twenty questions?”
“Maybe.” I did ask a lot of questions—Michelle always told me that. But I figured if I wanted to know something, I should ask. I wasn’t nosy; I was inquisitive.
“I don’t know. College.”
I looked at him kind of strange.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, just because I’m not in all those brain courses like you means I’m not going to college, right?” He looked out the window.
Surprised that I hurt his feelings, I said, “I didn’t mean anything.”
“Don’t know yet.” He turned his attention back to me. I was glad to see there wasn’t any hardness in his eyes. “Maybe one of the JC’s. Then I’ll transfer.”
“That’s smart. It’s cheaper that way.”
“You sound like Mrs. Lopez.” Mrs. Lopez was one of our guidance counselors who was good at her job. She really listened to you, like Tyler, actually. When Tyler spoke, he watched my eyes intently. He didn’t look off to the side or down like most people did when they talked. He kept his gaze steady.
I blushed and picked up the iPhone again. I didn’t understand why I was feeling so awkward. We’d spoken a million times before, but most of the time it was in passing. Just quick hellos and how-are-yous, never really face-to-face, alone.
“What about you?”
“I don’t know either. I applied to a couple of places—San Diego, LA, Davis, some others. We’ll see.”
“One more year of high school.”
One more year, I echoed in my mind. A year seemed like forever, but I knew it would go quickly. Then Michelle and I would be holding each other and sobbing at graduation like we had watched so many people do in the older classes. At this year’s graduation, I hadn’t really focused on the crying seniors. My eyes had been on the spot where Micah should have stood in line. Since our last name was Stevens, he should have been right between Sterol and Stewart.
“I wouldn’t mind looking into some kind of graphic design,” Tyler confided. “There are some art schools that look promising.”
“That logo you did for the band was cool.” When Micah had first shown me, it was so professional-looking that I thought he had hired someone. He told me Tyler did it, and I was surprised. I hadn’t really thought of Tyler much beyond Micah’s band and soccer season, where he was a forward for the school team.
“Here, give me that. I’ll show you some stuff.” He took his phone back and moved to sit beside me on the bench. His long fingers expertly slid icons across the screen.
“You have piano hands,” I said.
“First instrument.”
He pulled up his webpage, taking me through his drawings and designs.
“You’re very talented,” I said. “Did you do this in school?”
“Some in Mrs. Krell’s class, but mostly on my own. It’s kind of a secret, but she actually lets me run one of the Intro to Graphics classes.”
Next to me, his arm leaned casually against mine. I didn’t move away and neither did he. He felt warm, and I was suddenly very still.
“Micah never told me about this side of you.”
“No, well, Micah only cared about the music.” He showed me a sketch of their band. “I love to play, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to be stuck in a garage band the rest of my life. But it’s cool for now.”
“You guys have a great sound.”
“Yeah, but without Micah . . .” His voice trailed off. “He was kind of the glue. We were supposed to take a trip this summer. Kind of like a graduation present for him.”
“Where?”
“The plan was to drive down the coast of Mexico. Surf. Sleep wherever. Eat tacos off the side of the road. Try to get to my aunt’s house.”
“You should still do it sometime.”
“I don’t know. It’d be kind of a downer now. And summer’s almost over. Here, let me help you fill out the form. I’ll type in the information.” His fingers quickly moved across the screen, much faster than mine had. “Okay. What’s y
our license number?”
I reached into my backpack for my wallet and showed him my license. He laughed.
“What?”
“You look twelve.”
“I do not,” I protested, but I could see what he meant. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I had this huge gaping smile, like I was a little kid going to Disneyland for the first time. My parents had overbooked that day, so Micah had to take me to the test. His only words of advice were to act like I knew what I was doing, even if I didn’t. He had passed his test on the first try, so I felt the pressure.
Afterward, when I told Micah I’d passed, he hugged me and said he was glad because it meant he didn’t have to drive me around anymore. He stood where I could see him when I got my license picture taken. He made some kind of crazy face, and I laughed right when the woman pressed the button.
Tyler and I finished the stolen car report and sent it. I crossed out the words “Fill out form” in my notebook.
“Hmm . . . I forgot about your list thing.”
“I don’t have a list thing.” I crossed out “Search OB,” and, inside, I started feeling better.
“When did you write, ‘Fill out form?’ ”
“When we sat down to eat.”
“See, a list thing. Don’t you write things down even though you’ve already done them, and then cross them off, just to see that you’ve crossed something off your list?”
“Okay, psycho spy. I just like to feel productive.”
Tyler laughed. “What else is on the list for today?” He grabbed my notebook and began reading. “Wake up and shower, crossed off. That’s a good thing. Pick up Tyler. Check. Drive to OB. Done. Look around OB. Call Mom. Get gas. Not checked off. Hmm . . .”
“Give it back,” I said, but I was laughing.
“Fill out form. Check status later.” He flipped the page to the previous day and read the only words I had written: “Find Micah.”