One Moment

by Kristina McBride

  Joey propped his hands on his hips and shrugged. Then he turned to look at the motorcycle again. I could practically see the thoughts flying from his perfectly beautiful head: I want to ride, I need to ride, I will ride….

  “Joey,” I cautioned. “You said you’d be good.”

  Joey nodded. “And I will.”

  I sighed. “Thank God. I thought you were about to steal this thing.”

  Joey shook his head, his deep brown hair falling down into his face. “Nope.” He turned and walked toward the door that led to the Duttons’ mudroom. I stepped quickly behind him, my bare feet padding along the cool gray paint that covered the garage floor. Adam was right behind me. I could tell because he felt like a heavy load pressing against my back. Whatever had him so ticked was going to be problematic with the three-day break ahead. Memorial Day weekend was full of tradition, and if the guys weren’t speaking, the gorge the next day would be awful and stressful, the partying would feel disjointed, and the overall mood would—

  “Wait,” I said, scrunching my eyes as Joey stopped instead of placing his hand on the doorknob and making his way back into the house. I could feel Adam’s tension rise a notch or two behind me. “What are you doing?”

  “I said I’d be good.” Joey grinned, his lips tilting to the side a little in that sexy way that always made me feel light-headed. He stared into my eyes, the blue of his own practically glowing with the excitement of a promised rush. “And I swear I will. It’s just … I can’t not.” With that, Joey turned and jabbed the little glowing button next to the door, and the steady hum of the garage door invaded all the spaces around us, vibrating everything, including my beer-soaked brain.

  I shook my head. “It’s not a good idea,” I said.

  “Yeah, Joey.” Tanna stepped around me then, tugging at the braid that had come loose during her wild ride on Joey’s back. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “But”—Joey crossed a finger over his chest, one way, and then the other—“I haven’t had any of those Jell-O shots yet. And I haven’t smoked a thing tonight.”

  “A crotch rocket, Joey?” Adam asked, the irritation in his voice bordering on outright anger.

  I looked at the bike, my eyes skimming the words scrolled on its side—Kawasaki, Racing Team, Ninja, ZX6—which were a little fuzzy and out of focus. The full light of the garage made me realize I’d had more to drink than I thought.

  “You’ve ridden a dirt bike at your uncle’s, like, a coupla times,” Tanna said. “You ready for this?” She pointed her finger at the motorcycle.

  When I stared at the thing too hard, it began to look like a large grasshopper. A very fast grasshopper that I didn’t want Joey riding. But I knew what would happen if we pushed him, especially me, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “I rode my uncle’s Harley last month,” Joey said, pulling his shoulders back. “That thing was a beast. I can handle this baby. She’ll be smooth. Like buttah.” Joey ran a hand across the green bump that sloped toward the black leather seat.

  “Don’t worry, guys,” Adam said. “He’ll never get it started.”

  Joey smirked.

  I could have smacked Adam for challenging him. One thing about Joey, he never backed down from a challenge.

  “Now we’re screwed,” Shannon said, sitting on the workbench and looking down at the smattering of stickers that covered the seat: John Deere, Carhartt, Harley Davidson.

  “Oh,” Joey laughed. “You guys were already screwed.” Joey turned on his heels and walked to a metal box on the wall, flipped open the little door, and revealed a plethora of keys hanging off tiny hooks.

  “Oh, shit.” Tanna pulled her fingers through the waves her braid had created, shaking her head.

  “Joey,” I began, trying to think of the right thing to say to talk him out of it.

  “Don’t bother, Mag-Pie. I’m going.”

  “I hate it when you call me that,” I said.

  “I know. This might be easier if you’re pissed.”

  “No. Not so much. You can’t just go around stealing people’s—”

  “What the fuck’s going on here?” A red-faced and breathless Jimmy Dutton skidded to a stop on the blacktop driveway in the opening of the garage. “You guys shouldn’t be in here.”

  Joey smiled then, a real beamer, and nodded his head toward the motorcycle. He ran a hand through his hair and whistled. “She’s a beaut.”

  “Yeah. And she’s off-limits,” Jimmy said, his voice shaking. I wondered if he knew he’d just thrown a double on top of Adam’s challenge.

  I sighed, resigning myself to the simple fact that before the night was over, Joey would find a way to ride that motorcycle.

  “Is she yours?” Joey asked, his voice as sweet and sticky as honey. Poor Jimmy didn’t have a chance.

  Jimmy shook his head. “My brother’s. The brother that talked my parents into leaving me here instead of forcing me to go to the lake for the weekend. The brother who got us the keg. And the fireworks. The brother who would skewer me alive if he knew I’d let someone take his bike out for a joyride.”

  “Dude,” Joey said with a chuckle. “I totally respect all that. And your brother’s a cool guy. Graduated a few years ago, right? I remember the game where he dislocated his shoulder trying to keep the ball in bounds. He saved the team that night. We made it to the state tournament because of him.”

  Jimmy’s face loosened a bit, his eyes leaving Joey for the first time as he glanced at the bike. “My brother saved every dime for a coupla years to buy this thing, man. If someone breathes on it wrong, he knows.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Joey said. “I know how to ride. Have been for years.”

  Lie. Total lie. He’d ridden that Harley three times. On the dirt road at his uncle’s farm so the bike would land on softer ground in case Joey keeled over.

  Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other behind me. Tanna looked at me and raised her eyebrows as she twisted her hair back into its braid. Shannon smacked her flip-flop against the bottom of her foot over, and over, and over.

  “Dude, I dunno. I swore I’d keep everything locked up. Especially my brother’s shit.”

  “He’ll never know,” Joey said. “I swear he’ll never know a thing.”

  Just then a screeching sound tore through the night. Jimmy turned to look over his shoulder as someone flew through the front door and started puking in the bushes that lined the walkway. “Oh, man,” he said, rubbing the top of his head. “Look, whatever, okay? Just so you know, if you get caught, I’ll tell the cops, my brother, and God himself that you stole the thing. If you go down, you’re not taking me with you.”

  I almost reminded Jimmy that he would probably be going down no matter what. The party was supposed to be low-key but had started to rage as people poured down the long driveway in a steady stream, holding six-packs and coolers, lit cigarettes and joints, shouting to one another and pumping fists in the air at the luck of having such a secluded place to hang for the night. No way Jimmy would be able to clean this up before his parents returned. An entire month wouldn’t be enough time.

  “You rock, man,” Joey said, smiling. “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”

  Jimmy shook his head and turned quickly, jogging to the puker. When he reached her, he tugged on her shoulders, pulled her up, and half-walked, half-dragged her farther from the house.

  “Told ya.” Joey turned toward us, a smirk planted on his face. “I’m gonna ride.” He threw a key high up in the air, a key I couldn’t recall him plucking from the metal box. I watched it loop and spiral, the overhead light glinting off its shiny surface. As Joey caught the key in one hand, I stood there wondering if it had been cupped in the darkness of his palm since he’d come out back to gather us for his mysterious adventure. An adventure that really had nothing to do with us.

  Joey spun to face me, his eyes glinting with energy. “You comin’ with?”

  I looked at the motorcycle. Then back at him. “I dunno,�
� I said, my legs feeling wobbly with the thought of trying to hold on. Wobbly good because my entire body would be wrapped tightly against Joey’s, a prelude to the surprise I’d planned for the week his parents would be out of town. Wobbly bad because the thought of the bike’s motion made me feel a little sick. “I’m kinda drunk.”

  Tanna giggled. “You,” she said, “are a lot drunk. And I forbid you to risk your life on that death machine.”

  “Oh,” Joey said, slapping a hand to his chest. “The confidence you have in me is overwhelming.”

  “Ask me if I care.” Tanna stuck her tongue out at Joey.

  “So I can assume that you’re not interested in a ride?” he asked her.

  “No freaking way.”

  Joey looked at Adam, then. They both smiled, and a fresh glimmer of their friendship ignited into the cool night air. “Dude,” Adam said, “don’t even ask.”

  Joey shrugged. “Your loss, bro.”

  Shannon stopped flipping and flopping her sandal and looked at the bike.

  “You wanna?” Joey’s voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat.

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” Joey threw his head back and groaned. “That is not the kind of enthusiasm I was looking for, Shan.”

  Shannon giggled. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

  “Never?” Joey asked. “That’s a tragedy. Stand up. Hop on.”

  Shannon jumped up from the workbench and fluttered her long arms in the air, clapping her hands and giggling.

  Joey straddled the bike’s seat and started the motor with a quick and easy turn of that little key. The sound was louder than I’d expected, flooding the large garage, vibrating my insides with an irritating tickle.

  When Joey tipped his head at Shannon, she flung a long, tanned leg over the back of the leather seat, bouncing up and down as she slid onto its center and sidled up to Joey’s back. I was jealous. The feeling ripped through me. I wanted to be the one behind him, and I almost told them to forget it, that I was going instead. But Tanna was right. I’d had way too much to drink, and it wouldn’t be safe for Joey or me if I rode with him.

  “All you gotta do is hang on,” Joey yelled back at Shannon as he tugged her arms around his waist. “And don’t lean too far when we turn.”

  “Wait,” I said stepping toward them, “aren’t you guys gonna wear helmets?”

  Joey shook his head. “We’re not going far.”

  Shannon whisper-shouted something into Joey’s ear. He grinned and looked at me, Tanna, and Adam.

  “Shan wants a countdown,” he said, blowing a strand of brown hair from his eyes.

  I turned and grabbed Tanna’s hand, Adam’s, too, and squeezed.

  “Three,” we shouted in unison. “Two! One!”

  We threw our hands into the air, shouting, Tanna and I kicking our feet out in a little dance, and waited for them to take off.

  Joey winked at me, smiled, and picked his feet off the ground, easing the shiny green bike out of the garage. A crowd had gathered, openmouthed and gawking, and they watched with drinks raised, cheering, as Joey and Shannon peeled down the long strip of dark drive that led to the country roads twisting through the edge of town.

  16

  A Slice of Something Beautiful

  “Do you think you can ever really know a person?” I asked, shaking a handful of M&M’s in my hand as I settled in for my fourth appointment with Dr. Guest.

  “Are you referring to Joey?” Dr. Guest looked at me, raising her eyebrows.

  “It’s just a question,” I lied, popping the M&M’s into my mouth.

  I hadn’t told her about the cheating yet. I hadn’t told anyone. I was afraid of saying the words, as though once they were out there, it would make the whole thing all the way true. I’d spent the four days since finding that album struggling with the idea that the real Joey was nothing like the Joey I thought I knew, trying to avoid facing the fact that the Joey I loved had never existed.

  Dr. Guest flipped to a fresh page in her notepad, held it in the air, and turned it to face me. She started drawing squares on the paper. Little ones. Big ones. I listened to the scratch of her pen, wondering what insight she was about to share, enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate melting on my tongue.

  When she’d filled about three quarters of the paper with different-size squares, all linked together, she looked at me. “You’ve talked about that patchwork quilt your grandmother made, how you ripped it the day Joey died.”

  “I stole it from the living room,” I said. “It’s on my bed now.”

  “Your question made me think of how a person is just like a quilt.”

  I watched in silence as Dr. Guest filled in the rest of the empty space with small, medium, and large squares. Then she swiveled in her chair, her knees bumping the table between us, and presented her patchwork piece of paper.

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Think about your grandma’s quilt. The whole thing, it’s a work of art, a slice of something beautiful.”

  I looked at the paper, all the squares, imagining the blanket that I’d spread across my bed a few weeks ago. “Yeah.”

  “Like Joey. He was a slice of something beautiful.”

  I swallowed. Hard. Trying to keep the tears down. Because no matter how much he’d hurt me with all the shit he’d left behind, that was so true.

  “A work of art,” I said.

  “But if you look closely at that quilt your grandmother made, I bet there are pieces that you don’t really care for. Small patches of fabric that you can handle when you look at the whole, but that you would never choose for yourself if you were making your own quilt.”

  I thought of the scratchy gray wool that had once been a part of my great-grandmother’s Sunday dress.

  “Just like Joey. If you look closely enough, there are pieces of him that you probably don’t care for. Pieces of him that, since his death, you’re seeing for the first time. Pieces that might be ripped or torn. Imperfections. Ugliness. And that’s okay.”

  “But what if, when I look really close up, I realize those small pieces that I don’t like, all the imperfections, are bigger than the whole of him that I thought I loved?”

  “Then you do what you would do if he were still alive. You let go.” Dr. Guest looked at me with very sad eyes. “And you move on.”

  “But I don’t want to. Joey, he is”—I sucked in a deep breath—“was everything to me.”

  “That’s how people get into trouble, Maggie.” Dr. Guest pressed her lips together. Then she let out a big sigh. “I sense that something has changed since we last spoke. You want to fill me in?”

  I thought about letting the words spill into the room. But I couldn’t say them yet, so I just shook my head.

  “It’s important for you to allow yourself to feel whatever you need to feel right now. Get angry. Cry. Scream if you have to. Move through this in the way that suits you best, and don’t worry about Joey. He’ll come back to you, even if it feels like you don’t know him right now. You know, deep down, that you knew him very well.”

  But I didn’t. I didn’t know that at all. And that scared me more than anything.

  “So, how do I remember?” I asked. “All the stuff that I left at the cliff. How do I go back and find it?”

  “You reclaimed a memory the first time you were here. Have you remembered anything more?”

  “I try every day,” I said. “I sit by myself and concentrate on being there, on seeing and feeling and hearing everything that happened.”

  “And?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Nothing! All I get is the stuff I never lost, or the few flashes that have already come back.”

  Dr. Guest looked to the floor, shook her foot a few times, and then looked right at me. “I want you to think back to the times the memories have returned. Tell me about what you were doing, where you were. We need to find your trigger.”

  I almost laugh
ed. Adam had been tied to almost every single memory that had come back to me. And Adam was gone now. But I wasn’t about to get into all of that.

  “It’s pretty random. They kind of flash into my head, like lightning. One second they’re gone. And the next second they’re back. But each time it’s happened, someone has been there with me.”

  “You’ve had none when you were focusing alone? When you’re actively trying to access those memories, they stay in the dark?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, if what you want to do is to remember, and by the way, in my professional opinion that would be best, I have one question.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Do you think maybe you should stop trying so hard?”

  I sat there speechless. Dr. Guest shrugged her shoulders.

  “That’s so simple,” I said.

  “It might just work.”

  “And you get paid how much for this?”

  Dr. Guest tipped her head back and laughed. I realized that I’d never heard her happy, only concerned, and the change was nice.

  “Okay, then.” Dr. Guest plopped her pad on the table, the pen scooting across the page of squares. “Here’s your homework. You’re going to give yourself a break. Just relax and stop focusing so much on the memories. Live your life. Spend time with your friends. Wait and see what happens.”

  I sat there thinking that her advice could be applied to many areas of my life. The missing memories, obviously. And Adam. Sweet Adam, who had changed so much. Pushing him was the worst idea I had ever had. But Dr. Guest’s homework might help me handle my frustration over how to deal with Shannon. I had been unsure how to confront her, trying to come up with some grand plan that would end with her explaining everything in a way that made all the pain disappear and that, at the same time, might bring us all back together again.

  Since that would never happen now, I figured I had nothing to lose. I deserved a break. And it just might be my turn to be unpredictable and go a little crazy for once.

  17

  The Earth Spinning Beneath Me

  I stared at the flames of the bonfire, watching them leap and dive in front of me, my fingers wrapped tightly around a bumpy stick as the fire licked the sides of the marshmallow I was roasting. I felt hazy, like I was only half there. It had nothing to do with alcohol—I’d only had a few swigs from Tanna’s special Fourth of July mug, just to keep her from asking questions about why I’d been so quiet lately. It had worked. She was sitting next to me on a knotted log, singing along with a bunch of people as Pete played Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” on his guitar.