by T. Torrest
I’d never thought of myself as a strong person; it seemed I constantly let myself get knocked down at every turn. But maybe it was true that strength just came from getting back up again, each and every time.
I said, “Yeah, well, knowing that doesn’t make any of this any easier.”
“Tell me about it. I mean, first you flipped out and then my parents weren’t too thrilled, but they eventually got over it. The Redys, however, are just completely freaking out.”
She stopped just then and looked at me, realizing that’s not at all what I meant. She opened her mouth- probably intending to give me a big lecture on why change was a good thing, how life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans, blah, blah, blah- but nothing came out.
Finally, she just simply offered, “He really loves me, Layla. No guy has ever really... loved me before.”
I knew what she was getting at. She’d had numerous boyfriends over the years, some great, some not so great. But most of the guys she’d dated always treated her like some kind of trophy. Like she was some beautiful, brainless party girl, their prize to show off to the world. No one had ever bothered to scratch beyond the surface. Until Pickford.
“What’s not to love?” I asked, unable to stop the sheer corniness dripping from my brain. “Oh! You just reminded me of something!”
I went out into the hall and retrieved the picture of the two of us from graduation. I’d gone to K-Mart and bought a swirly, pewter frame to put it in, and had stuck a mini, silver bow on the corner. I handed it over, almost shyly suggesting, “I know it’s stupid, but I thought it was a really good picture of both of us. You know how we can never get one where we both look human... either I’m making some weird face or you’ve got your eyes closed or-”
“Layla, shut up. It’s perfect.”
I saw her smile as she looked at the two girls smiling back at her. “I’ll find a spot of honor in our new home for it.”
Her mention of her new home was enough to remind us of our impending reality. She was actually going to do it. She was going to move three thousand miles away with some boy who’d stolen her heart. Some boy who was going to take it, along with the rest of her, far, far away from me.
“He’d better be good to you,” I warned, not having any clue what I could possibly be expected to do if he wasn’t.
“He will be. He is,” she said back.
The waterworks started then, the two of us crying like a couple of idiots, bawling like there was no tomorrow. We hugged and sobbed into each other for a solid minute, neither one of us wanting to be the first to let go.
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Not as much as me.”
“Will you come out to see us? Maybe over the winter like you said?”
I wanted to say yes, I really did. But I was too afraid of making any empty promises. After all, I didn’t know what the next few months were going to bring. We broke our embrace, dried our eyes and I said, “I’ll try. I swear. But come home every chance you get, okay? I can be back here within an hour of your call.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky swear.”
“Well, jeez. Now I know you really mean it.”
That made us laugh a little, and I figured I’d better let her get back to her packing. By that point, our crying jag had almost become more of a celebration of the next chapter of our lives, rather than pure grief over having to say goodbye.
It was a weird set of mixed emotions I was feeling- happy and scared and excited and sad- as I actually walked out of her room and back down the street. Sure, she wouldn’t be three houses down or even living in the same city where I could go see her any time I wanted, but I knew we’d still talk. A lot. Like every spare moment we got.
There was no doubt in my mind that Lisa and I would always be a part of each other’s lives forever, so at least I took that small comfort away with me. It’s not as though we had really said goodbye. It was more like see-you-later.
With the rest of my friends, I wished I could be as sure.
My father and Bruce were both planning to drive me into New York the following morning, giving us the whole day to spend together in the city while getting me settled in my dorm. So, Dad didn’t mind when I told him I’d made plans with my friends for my last official night in town.
Which was good, because I still hadn’t said goodbye to Trip.
Chapter 35
RHAPSODY IN AUGUST
I started the car but kept it in park while I gunned the engine, trying to kick-start the air-conditioning. I had it set to full blast, but the day had been a scorcher and it was taking a few extra minutes to get the freon flowing. Even nearing dusk, the heat was barely showing any sign of letting up. The physical labor of the past hour had left me overheated, my face damp with sweat, causing moist little tendrils to appear around the edges of my hairline.
I lifted the hair off my nape and turned at an awkward angle, trying to cool the back of my neck, then pressed my forehead right up against the vents in an attempt to dry my face. I fanned the top of my dress and checked to make sure I didn’t have any hideous pit marks under my arms. Thankfully, the moisture had been confined mostly to my head area. I pulled down the visor mirror for a quick makeup check, and noticed that my waterproof (ha!) mascara had become smudged. I was grateful when a quick swipe with a tissue brought my face back to its pre-hike condition.
I pulled off my Converse high-tops and socks and slipped into my black, strappy thongs. If I thought the hike was bad wearing my sneakers, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how I was going to make the trek in sandals. I figured determination alone would get me to my destination.
After only a few minutes, I was cooled off and presentable enough to put the car in drive and head up the hill to get Trip.
I pulled into the driveway and crossed myself that his father wouldn’t answer the door. Trip assured me hours before that he was away on business- he knew that after my last encounter with the man, I wasn’t planning on ever being in his presence again- but one can never be too sure. I was wearing a fairly snug, stretchy-cotton black dress which had spaghetti straps that tied into a lazy bow over each shoulder. It also had a plunging neckline, which was a little out of my comfort zone to begin with, so I supposed that any judgmental commentary from Mr. Wilmington would have hit a little closer to the mark that night. For insurance, I threw on a lightweight, button-down sleeveless top to cover any cleavage, tying the tails around my waist. I was yoinking at the bottom of the elastic skirt in a futile attempt to lengthen it as I made my way up the front walk.
I checked my reflection in the glass of the Wilmingtons’ front door and decided I could still pass as good ol’ Layla Warren: Catholic-girl, honor-student and all-around moral citizen.
I rang the bell, and mercifully, Mrs. Wilmington answered.
“Hello, Layla, come on in.”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilmington!”
The Wilmingtons’ house had central air, so any residual heat from my ordeal vanished within one minute inside their blessedly refrigerated marble foyer.
Trip’s mom closed the door behind me, asking, “Are you all set for New York?”
I’d been trying all day not to think about it, but there it was. I gave her my standard reply. “Yes. I’m excited, but kind of scared too.”
She started to tell me that the greatest adventures in life were like that, when suddenly, she did a double-take. “Oh, my, don’t you look pretty tonight!”
I could feel my face flush. “Thank you.”
She gave me the once-over and added, “Where are you two headed tonight all dressed up?”
“Oh, uh,” I hadn’t thought about the fact that my dress could provoke suspicion (which was stupid, since I’d spent practically every other summer day in T-shirts and shorts) and hadn’t devised a proper ruse for my semi-formal attire ahead of time. So, I improvised. Chances were good that we’d swing by Rymer’s at some point, and I figu
red Trip’s mom would buy that as reason enough to get all decked out. The truth was, I wasn’t wearing some dress to impress anyone at some stupid party. I was wearing the thing to affect one person and one person only. So, I played dumb. “Oh... There’s a birthday party tonight. You think I’m overdressed?”
I could hear Trip’s clunky feet thudding down the stairs as Mrs. Wilmington said, “Oh, no. You look terrific. Whose birthday is it?”
Yes, it was Rymer’s birthday and yes, he was having some sort of family party. But I was feeling pretty guilty about pretending that we were on our way right at that moment to actually attend said party and I didn’t want to continue lying into that sweet woman’s face any longer. Mercifully, Trip rounded the corner just then and answered for me. “We’re just going to Rymer’s, Ma.”
I watched as he walked across the foyer, registered what he was wearing. He had on a pair of jeans and a grey T-shirt, which on anyone else would have looked ordinary, but on Trip looked like a magazine ad for some expensive cologne. His hair was still wet from a shower and he looked great, devastatingly gorgeous as usual.
He offered a “Hey” in my direction as he grabbed the small, insulated cooler bag from next to the door and swung it over his shoulder, the muscles in his arm stretching the shirt taut around his bicep, making my stomach flip.
There was an unmistakable sound of cans clanking with ice coming from the bag, but his mother didn’t make any attempt to confiscate it. She even bypassed the lecture and only raised a knowing brow. “Please be safe tonight, Terrence. And Layla-” I could feel her wanting to say something about being a responsible designated driver, but then she must have realized who she was talking to. To her, I was Saint Layla, after all. It’s not as though she had any reason to suspect that I was actually planning on fucking her son’s brains out that night. She smiled and said, “Have a good time.”
Chapter 36
MY BLUE HEAVEN
I followed Trip down the front walk toward the driveway, asking, “You’re bringing your own beer?”
He laughed and answered, “Yeah. Who the hell can afford Rymer’s prices?”
I giggled at that as I slid behind the wheel and ditched the shirt. Trip was fiddling with the radio, but I knew the exact second he must have finally looked over at me.
“Jesus, Layla! What the hell are you wearing?”
His mouth was parted, assessing me with a thrilled look on his face, which made me feel ecstatic and nervous and proud all at the same time. I bit my lip to try and keep myself from smiling, which was answer enough for him.
At the bottom of his driveway, I made a right turn, causing Trip to stop ogling me and spout, “Yo! Where you going, dummy? Rymer’s is that way.”
I kept my eyes on the road, knowing there was no way I’d be able to look him in the eye when I said, “We’re not going to Rymer’s. We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to. Just shut up and let me drive.”
Without even looking at his face, I could tell that he was figuring things out, registering what was up with the tight, black dress and my evasion of any specific details. A little too confidently, he asked, “Where we going then?”
“Forget it, Chester. You’ll just have to wait and find out.”
He didn’t have to wait very long.
I pulled down a dead-end street only a few blocks from his house and parked the car where the road met the woods. The sun had begun to set and already, the surrounding trees were blocking out any trace of light, hiding us away in a pool of shadow. I cut the engine and Trip grinned that killer smile, surely under the assumption that I’d chosen the secluded place to “park” and said, “Okay, then... I like where this is going...” He leaned over toward me, sliding a hand up my leg and going in for a kiss. I let him do it, but only for a second or two. I knew how easy it was to get swept away once we got going, and letting him nail me in my car was not part of the plan. It was all I could do to tear away.
“Trip, stop.”
He looked at me, puzzled, those sapphire eyes searching my face for an answer. “Then why did you-”
“Not here.” I was holding back a smile, but he saw my lips twitch. He smiled himself, relieved that I wasn’t cutting him off, coming to the realization that I had some sort of better idea.
I bounded out of the car and popped the trunk. Trip came around the back as I was unpacking a few things. “Here,” I said, loading his arms with a citronella bucket, pillows and two blankets.
I grabbed the small boombox, the bottle of white wine and stuffed the glasses I’d snuck out of the house in my purse before closing up the car and stepping into the woods.
Trip was a few steps behind me when I heard him tease, “I don’t know what you have planned, Lay-Lay, but I wish you would have told me to wear my hiking boots.”
I ducked under a branch and responded, “At least you’re wearing sneakers. Try traipsing through the woods with these things on.”
Trip teased, “Didn’t you know where we were going tonight?”
“Ha ha. Yeah, of course. I just didn’t think that a pair of clunky old boots would really complement my outfit” I teased. “It’s not that far anyway. Right up ahead is this great spot I want to show you... There’s an amazing view.”
I heard him give a huff. “Well, the view in front of me is pretty amazing already. What, did you pour yourself into that thing?”
I gave a modest smirk over my shoulder, but the truth was, I was loving the fact that I had Trip practically drooling. I knew he found me likeable enough to be my friend and cute enough for us to hook up on occasion, but all that was nothing compared to when he found me desirable. I was overcome with a perverted sense of power, feeling the scales shift ever so slightly, allowing me the upper hand for the first time in our relationship. Not that Trip went out of his way to wield control over me, it wasn’t his fault that I’d fallen in love with him. He never led me on or made me believe that we were anything more than what we were, which, in itself, had always been pretty great. But after spending almost an entire year panting after him, it was nice to finally see some sort of balance of power between us, some sort of point scored in my column.
The feeling was dismissed almost immediately, however, when I realized that I didn’t want to have power over Trip. The only thing I ever wanted was him.
I stepped over a log and around a huge boulder, emerging from the treeline into a small clearing. Lisa and I had found the place years before and while I’m sure we weren’t the first nor the last explorers to venture there, it never became a popular destination. There were dozens of hiking trails throughout those woods, and twice as many lookout points along the ridge giving beautiful views of the valley. This spot was more off the beaten path and very secluded, which is why I picked it.
Trip stepped out onto the grass and almost dropped the blankets he’d been holding. There, in the little clearing surrounded by pines and scrub brush, was the turquoise tent I’d set up an hour before. It was the tent I’d used for sleepovers with Lisa in the backyard and “camping trips” with Bruce in the living room. In all the years I’d owned it, it never found its way into actual nature. Until now.
Trip was stunned. “You did this? You came all the way out here lugging that huge thing and set it up yourself?”
I couldn’t have been more proud. “Mm-hmm. Impressed?”
Trip ditched the blankets and candle on a nearby rock, came over and wrapped his arms around me. “Yes. You’re unbelievable.” He kissed me then, made my knees go weak. “It’s gonna be a hell of a night, huh?”
I’ll say.
“I hope so. Hey- crack open that bottle. Let’s have a glass of wine while we watch the sunset.”
I gave Trip the opener from my purse and he went to work on the cork. “Damn. This is a great idea and all, Layla. But I’ve never done this before.” I came over to help, but I had no idea what I was doing either, so between the two of us, we’d managed to get the broken cork into the bottle. No matter, as long
as we’d be able to get the wine out, who cared? Trip poured us each a glass, then he followed me through the pines a few feet to the rock ledge. He bounded the few steps up a boulder then held out his hand to help hoist me up. Miraculously, I was able to climb up without spilling my drink all over the front of my dress. We sat down side by side, our elbows and hips touching as I wrapped my legs under me. Trip had his knees up, his arms stretched straight out over them, the glass dangling from between his fingers.
“This is beautiful,” he said, looking out over Norman Valley from his perch at the top of the world.
We were probably about ten minutes too late for a perfect sunset, as we were only able to catch the last hints of pink and purple before the sky went navy. But he was right. It was beautiful. And so much nicer to watch without a sand fight distracting from the show.
The memory panged at my heart, thinking that there’d never be another shared sunrise or sunset for us ever again. I considered the fact that I’d be gone in just fourteen short hours from then, but I buried the thought almost as instantly as it had appeared. I refused to let our last night together be turned into a glum occasion.
We sat there sipping our drinks for a few minutes, unspeaking in the early dark. When our glasses were empty, we hopped off the rock and headed back to our tent. My stomach was in knots, nervous and anticipating what was going to happen next.
Trip lit the citronella bucket I’d packed- brilliant planning on my part, if I do say so myself- offering a soft glow throughout the small clearing and staving off any mosquitos we might encounter out there in the woods. I grabbed the bottle of wine off the ground and Trip grabbed the radio and blankets. We headed into the tent, kicked off our shoes and set up camp. I laid the blankets out over the floor while Trip found us a good station on the radio. The quarters were pretty cramped as we moved around inside the tent, but after we’d set everything up, there was plenty of space for us to both sit across from one another. Trip poured us another round and tucked the bottle into the corner so it wouldn’t spill.