The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Jill smiled quickly and kept on chattering. “Well, men think they're better in the kitchen, or anywhere else, for that matter. You know men are chefs and women are just cooks, so I’m told.” She chuckled sarcastically.

  Dylan rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, Aimee, let’s go study.” He took Aimee's hand and guided her from the kitchen behind him while they moved into the formal dining room.

  His mom kept pacing about the kitchen preparing lunch. “I’ll have lunch ready in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you kids study in the dining ro...” But they had already disappeared into the dining room.

  Dylan instantly took both of Aimee's hands. “I’m sorry about Mom.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She didn’t know. Besides, I’m okay talking about it. It happened when I was born so I’ve had a lot of years to get over her…uh, her not being a part of my life, our lives, Dad, James, and me. So it’s okay to discuss. I can’t tiptoe around it forever.”

  Fortunately he didn’t press on with the subject. Aimee wasn’t sure she really wanted to talk about it at this point. She wanted to think and talk about Dylan, not herself, so she changed the subject. She eased her hands from his grasp and swung her arms around his neck. On her tiptoes, she stared into his eyes. Suddenly, she attached her lips to his, giving him a brief, but excited kiss.

  He pulled back with a surprised expression, then a smirk slowly lit up his face. “Well, I can tell we won’t get much studying done if you keep this up.”

  “What, you don’t like it?” she asked with a playful pout.

  He grinned. “No, I do like…too much.”

  “Good,” replied Aimee. She dropped her arms from their embrace. He took her hand, then escorted her to the opposite end of the room, and set the pack down on one of the dining chairs.

  Just like the kitchen, this room was expansive. A long, glass-topped table spread from one end to the other surrounded by twelve elegant looking chairs. At the opposite end a huge stone fireplace served as the supporting wall in the center with openings on either side of it leading into what looked like a massive den. One wall was mostly windows, which also looked out onto the backyard.

  “Geez, I’ve never sat at a dining table this large.”

  Dylan laughed. “Yeah, well, Mom and Paul like to entertain a lot.”

  During their date on Friday they had talked a bit about their families. Aimee knew he referred to his stepdad by his first name, Paul. He was an attorney who worked for a lot of high profile corporations on the west coast so he was out of town most of the time.

  “Well, your house is awesome, and, really, really big.”

  “Yeah, Mom is used to being pampered,” he said, “and Paul was the perfect person to marry to keep her pampered.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, more of a funny thing how it worked out. Actually kinda poetic justice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dylan pulled out a chair for her, then gestured for her to sit down. He was always quite a gentleman; pulling out chairs and opening doors for Aimee. It felt nice to be spoiled. Dylan chuckled. She could tell he was about to tell her something amusing.

  He sat down next to Aimee in the grand chair at the end of the table, and proceeded with his story. “Well, Paul was, actually still is, my dad’s attorney. Dad had a bad habit of messing around with other women, and finally after years of sneaking around on Mom, he decided to call it quits. He asked Paul to handle his and Mom’s divorce. Dad didn’t know Mom and Paul were having an affair. Within a month of the divorce, Mom and Paul were married, and shortly after that we moved here to Medford.” Dylan snickered. “Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?”

  Aimee shook her head. “You mean Paul is still your dad’s attorney after everything that happened?”

  “Yeah, they are actually good friends. I guess no hurt feelings. Mom and Dad’s marriage was over at the end so it worked out okay.”

  “Okay for you, too?” She hoped the question wasn’t too personal.

  He looked at her for a few seconds before answering. “The whole split family thing kinda sucks, you know, but I was old enough to understand when it happened, and they didn’t fight over who got custody of me. Actually, they let me decide.”

  “And your dad doesn’t mind you living with your mom and Paul?”

  “He did at first, but he finally realized it was better for me. He travels a lot with his company so I would have been left in Portland by myself, or with the housekeeper. Anyway, Dad is used to being in control. He gets off on his power trips. He donates a lot of money to West Columbia, and I’m sure he had a lot to do with me getting the scholarship. He was so sure I was taking it. God, he was friggin’ pissed with me when I told him I was going to UC. He thinks throwing money at people is the answer to getting his way. It’s one of many reasons I’d rather live with Mom and Paul. Paul makes a lot of money, but at least he’s cool about it. You know, living here is healthier for me.”

  “It sucks you don’t get along with your dad, but…” Aimee paused, “…I’m happy you moved to Medford with your mom and Paul.” She was so happy at this exact moment. She hated to think about anything but the present. It felt too wonderful to be real. Her perfect dream. She prayed it continued forever, that she wouldn’t wake up. For some unfathomable reason he wanted her. She couldn’t imagine how she might feel if he wasn’t here.

  Dylan touched her blushing cheeks. He said in an extremely serious voice, “Me, too.”

  Just then Mrs. Lane burst through the door carrying a tray of delicious smelling food. She instructed Dylan to get the drinks from the kitchen counter. Before she left she commanded, with a grin, they leave room for a piece of double chocolate cake. Aimee looked at Dylan with wide eyes. He shrugged. “Just eat what you want. She’ll feed you until you bust if you let her. She has some insane need to feed everyone. She gets off to cooking. Paul loves it, though. I think he’s gained twenty pounds since they got married.”

  “You won’t get upset if I…I destroy some of your mom’s wonderful creation? I mean, I hate to upset you, or her.” Aimee looked nervously at the kitchen door while she picked at the bread on her sandwich.

  Dylan looked at her worried. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect. Well, everything except I forgot to tell you I’m a tree hugging, peace loving, vegetarian.” She mustered a smile hoping he wouldn’t be offended by her quirk.

  He leaned back in his chair and cackled. “Is that all? I thought something was terribly wrong with you, or you found a hair in your sandwich.” Dylan continued chuckling while he took off the top piece of bread, whipped off the meat, and stuffed it in his mouth. “There, problem solved.” He smiled at Aimee, then picked up his sandwich and took a big bite.

  After lunch they studied for a couple of hours, stopping occasionally to talk about other things besides physics and world history. They covered their circles of friends, upcoming school activities, and other random things of interest. Of course he didn’t remember Aimee from school or other events until this past summer when their paths brought them serendipitously together like two stars colliding.

  Before leaving Dylan took her on a tour of the house. They stopped at his bedroom. Since his stepsister was rarely home, he had the entire second story to himself. Just like the rest of the house, his room was mammoth. Also, like the rest of the house, it was bright, and had one wall covered with glass looking out over the backyard. Oddly for an eighteen year old male, it was immaculate. The bed was even made, something that only happened in Aimee's house on the weekend when she cleaned, or when special company, like Aunt Lauren, was coming. Everything - the furniture, the lightening, the accessories - was modern.

  “Nice. I like.” Aimee strolled around the perimeter, casually surveying the surroundings. He followed behind her while she circled around his massive bed, her extended fingers gliding smoothly across the black, silky comforter.

  Aimee lingered at the
display case. It was the entire length of one wall, and contained books, CD’s, pictures, and a large number of trophies. Football plaques, medals, awards, team photos, all kinds of tokens memorializing his athletic talent from pee wee football until State this year at East Medford High, were strategically placed. Aimee was impressed as she ran her hand along the length of the smooth teak shelf, stopping briefly to survey each piece. At the very end was a framed snapshot of Dylan. It looked like a banquet. His mom and Paul were standing on one side, and another man, who Aimee assumed was Dylan's dad, was on the other side. Dylan favored his dad. His dark brown hair, his slightly pointed nose and high cheek bones, but mostly the rich, chocolate brown eyes looked like his dad’s. But right next to his dad a person’s image had been blotted out by a black piece of paper, as if intentionally trying to obliterate the person from existence. Aimee picked up the photo, looked at it for a moment, then glanced back at Dylan. He took it from her with his mouth pursed in a crooked frown, and set it back down.

  “It was the only picture I had of my family at the ceremony. I didn’t want to throw it away so I covered her picture.”Aimee knew her was Brandi. She smiled ineptly and moved quickly to another photo, one of Dylan posing with his dad and some people Aimee didn’t know at the Munich Airport in Germany.

  “You went to Germany?”

  “Yeah, a couple summers ago. I went with Dad and his girlfriend, Gretchen, the blonde with her arm in a deathlock around Dad’s waist. My old man likes them young and pretty. I think Gretchen’s half his age. She just finished getting her masters from West Columbia before we went. Anyway, Gretchen’s from Germany so we flew over there for a couple of weeks and stayed with her family. We even went down and toured Italy. It was great, except I had to hang with the old man the whole time. So, have you been?”

  “No. I haven’t been to Europe, but I’d love to go. The farthest away I’ve visited is Texas. Does that count for traveling abroad?”

  He snickered. “I believe so. I hear Texas considers itself another country.” He paused a few seconds. “Well, I hope you get a chance to go. I guess I’ve been lucky. I’ve been able to see a lot of countries where Dad has offices, but I prefer traveling with Mom and Paul.” He grabbed Aimee's hand and inched his fingers into hers, then led her out into the hall. “I guess I better get you home before your dad comes looking for you.”

  Aimee really hated to leave. The more time she spent with Dylan, the more time she wanted. She was beginning to enjoy it more than she should. Aimee didn’t know where this relationship was going, or how it could survive. They were both seniors and graduation was in less than five months. Dylan was leaving to the University of the Cascades on a football scholarship at the end of the summer. UC wasn’t that big so they would surely bump into each other on campus once in a while. But Aimee knew he would be consumed by his love for football, and of course, he would have lots of girls willing to do anything for his attention. She was sure he would be a popular man on campus. How could she compete?

  Aimee was hoping to get accepted to UC even before she knew Dylan’s intent. She planned on attending in the fall quarter, too, and living with James and Sacha. Dylan seemed pleased, very pleased, Aimee wanted to attend UC, but her future with Dylan was too hard to grasp right now. As much as she wished there was a future with them in it, Aimee knew it would be complicated, probably impossible. Her life was not orderly…or predictable. So for now, she would enjoy what they had, take it one day at a time, and hope for more.

  The time seemed to slip away when they were together. They made a brief detour to Chelsea’s to return her borrowed attire. Of course, she insisted they stay to chill for a bit despite Aimee's futile attempt to escape. After all, she would see Chels at school in the morning, and she would pump Aimee again for all the details from their weekend.

  Dad had dinner cooking by the time Dylan eased his FJ into the driveway. He was busily chopping vegetables for his famous vegetable soup when Aimee bounced through the door. She stopped long enough to lift the lid of the stock pot to savor the tasty aroma. He popped her on the back of her hand with a wooden spoon, frowning mockingly.

  She exclaimed, “Mmmm, smells wonderful!”

  “Thanks. Should taste good, too. Hey, get me some celery from the frig,” he ordered waving the butcher knife in the direction of the refrigerator. “So, how did the studying go?” He kept mincing onions, stopping briefly to wipe the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes.

  “It was fine. I got to meet his mom,” Aimee said matter-of-factly while she looked into the vegetable drawer for the requested ingredient.

  “How’d that go?”

  “Great. She seems nice. She’s a good cook,” she said. “You might have competition.”

  “Yeah, right. No one makes better soup than your old man.”

  “No doubt.” Aimee put the celery on the counter, patted him on the back, then gathered the soup bowls from the cabinet.

  She was setting the table when the phone rang. Dad continued chopping, so Aimee reached for the phone on the counter. “Hello,” she answered.

  Silence.

  “Hello...(silence)...uh, I’m sorry but I can’t hear you.”

  More silence.

  “Okay this is weird. If someone is there, I’m going to hang up.” Aimee nervously peered at Dad with her hand on the receiver, but the caller beat her to it.

  Click. Dial tone.

  She hung the phone up slowly and looked at Dad with her eyebrows furrowed; first her cell phone this afternoon, and now the house line. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but it still felt creepy for some inexplicable reason.

  “What’s wrong?” Dad asked finally looking up. He placed his chopping knife down on the cutting board and wiped the back of his sleeve across his eyes again to soak up the moisture.

  “I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

  “Well, who was that?”

  Aimee was becoming petulant. “I don’t know, Dad. They didn’t say. Probably just a wrong number though. They hung up without saying anything.” She shrugged, then continued to help Dad where she had left off before the phone rang.

  Her dad filled dinner with unusually inquisitive discussion about Dylan and his family. Afterwards, he convinced Aimee that since he had slaved over the stove she should get kitchen detail. He headed for the den, a magazine under one arm, and a cold beer in his hand. Aimee took her time washing and drying the dishes and scoured the soup pot. Zonker begged pathetically until she flicked off the kitchen light, then he trailed after her to the bedroom.

  Her cell phone was buzzing loudly when she entered her room. Quickly she dug it from the backpack and flipped it open. The screen read James. “Hey, what’s up?” she answered while she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed.

  “Just checking that it was okay with Dad for us to come in a couple weeks.”

  “Of course. You know Dad can’t wait for you to come. Hey James...” Aimee paused hoping he didn’t want to be alone with Sacha. “...uh, would it be okay if I tag along to Ashland?”

  “If you pay your way.”

  “Yeah, James, I’ll pay my way. I’ll even fill your car if you let me bring a friend.” She felt confident he wouldn’t say no to her bribe.

  “Sure, you fill my car and you can bring anyone…anyone except Chelsea,” he said, his tone lightening. “Her incessant babbling drives me friggin’ insane.”

  “Well, it’s not Chelsea this time. Actually, it’s not any of my girlfriends.”

  “So then, that would make it a boy you want to invite?”

  “Geez, you’re fast,” Aimee said. “Yes, that would make it a boy. I’m not into dating aliens.”

  “So Aimee, what lucky dude finally got to you?”

  “Uhmm, yeah, well…Dylan…Dylan Townsend.” She waited for his smart rebuttal. James knew how limited Aimee's social life had been during high school. He didn’t show the same concern over her as their dad, but she had to endure his wisecracks about being
a social freak now and then. Aimee covered her eyes with her arm waiting for the condescending comment she knew was coming.

  “Dylan Townsend!” His chortling was so loud she pulled the phone away from her ear until he settled back down.

  “I take it you remember him.” She instantly was miffed he thought it was so amusing that she wanted to ask Dylan. “Look, James,” Aimee responded sourly, “…we don’t have to come with you. I just thought it would be fun for the four of us to go together. Dylan likes to snowboard, and I don’t think he has anything planned for that weekend. So…”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get all pissed-off. I’m just giving you a hard time. Of course you and Dylan can come with us, that is if you fill my car,” he promptly reminded her of the bargain.

  “Thanks, James. I really appreciate it. You’ll probably see a lot more of Dylan in the fall.”

  “Oh, yeah, and why is that?”

  “Well, he has a scholarship to play football at UC,” she said smugly. Aimee wasn’t ready to reveal that he might also see more of him if she was living with James and Sacha because Dylan had quickly made his intentions known he wanted to make their relationship more than just friends.

  “Yeah, I know. I covered him in the paper when he got it. Good for him, and great for the Bears. So, do you think he’ll get us some free passes?”

  “James, you butt!” she screeched as she sat up. “I hope you’re not serious. Anyway, we’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

  “Sure. We’ll be there late Friday afternoon.”

  Before James could hang up, Aimee quickly interjected, “Hey, James, before you go, how is that girl that got hurt in the robbery?” The journey had been in and out of her mind whenever Dylan wasn’t occupying it the past couple of days. She suddenly shuttered recalling the sound the girl's head had made when it hit the brick wall, and the gun’s loud blast as the robber’s lousy aim narrowly missed her. They both had come so close to getting killed. She had tried to bury those memories so she wouldn’t have to deal with the trepidation any sane person should have from an experience so frightening.