Anyone but You

by Lara M. Zeises

  Why couldn’t I erase it from my brain?

  I half walked, half ran to the Movie King, so that by the time I arrived I was fairly hot and sweaty. I said a silent prayer of thanks when I saw Shelli standing behind the register. Without saying a word, I took her hand and led her into the back room, where I slammed her up against a shelf of videos, sending more than a few brown plastic cases crashing to the floor.

  Shelli didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

  She sighed softly. “Me too.”

  We were still kissing and groping when she stretched out her arm to turn the lock on the door. Then she shook out her bright red hair—bottle red, not natural—and slid down to her knees. I wound my fingers through her hair, almost petting her while pressing her slightly closer. It was a move that always, always elicited noises from Shelli’s busy mouth, and in a few minutes, I was done.

  As I pulled up my pants, I reached for a tissue from the desk and handed it to Shelli. “Thanks,” she said, sitting back on her feet, still on the floor.

  “No,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I reached for the door.

  “That’s it?” Shelli asked. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Did you want something else?”

  I made the mistake of looking into her eyes as I said this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen the first tears fall.

  “Screw you,” she said with a sniffle.

  “Shelli,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder.

  She shook it off violently. “Don’t you say my name now. ”

  She was crying harder, really wailing, and I didn’t know how to make her stop. I felt like a total shit, but as I replayed what had just happened it didn’t seem any different from the other times we’d hooked up. When had the rules changed?

  “Look,” I said. “I never promised to be your boyfriend or anything.”

  It sounded way nastier than I had intended, and I’m sure my face registered shock even before Shelli hauled off and punched me in the groin. I hit the floor with a thunk as Shelli grabbed the shelf and lifted herself up.

  “Get out of my store,” she said, her hands shaking by her sides. “And don’t you ever—ever—come back here again.”

  Farewell

  I’d reached a new low.

  From the Movie King I limped across the street to the gas station, looking for a pay phone. It was broken, so I had to cross two lanes of busy traffic just to get to Community Plaza, which, as it turned out, didn’t even have any pay phones. I let out a howl, spotted one of those metal newspaper dispenser things, and kicked it as hard as I could.

  “You’re gonna break your foot if you’re not careful.”

  I whirled around to find Frank standing behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Getting smokes.” He held up a pack of Parliaments. “Want one?”

  “No.”

  Frank shook out a cigarette, struck a match, and inhaled deeply. “I owe you an apology,” he said, not looking at me.

  “What for?”

  “Do I have to say it?”

  There were so many things he could be apologizing for, I couldn’t figure out which screwup this apology was meant for. Regardless, I was the last person he needed to be apologizing to.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because my daughter won’t talk to me,” he said.

  “Can you blame her?”

  He chuckled. “No, I guess not.”

  It was uncomfortable, standing there with him, his words hanging in the air like the smoke from his cigarette. Finally Frank said, “You’ll be glad to know I’m going back to Scranton.”

  “What? When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Does Sea know? Layla?” I took his silence as confirmation that they didn’t. “You have to tell them,” I said. “It’d be really shitty of you not to.”

  Frank laughed, low and bitter. “No one’s gonna miss me, kid. You said it yourself—you were all better off with me gone.”

  “That’s a coward’s response.”

  “Is it?” Frank took one last drag off his cigarette, dropped it on the concrete, and stomped it out. “Fine, then. I guess I’m a coward.” He reached around to his back pocket and took out an envelope. “I was going to drop this off at the house, but you can take it for me, can’t you?”

  “What is it?”

  “What’s it look like? A letter.”

  I eyed the envelope, which looked too fat to be just a letter. “How much cash you got in there?”

  “Enough.”

  He handed it to me. “I still think you should at least say goodbye.”

  “You do it for me,” he said.

  I started to walk away when Frank called to me. “Hey,” he said. “I left the number of the place where I’ll be staying. Make sure Seattle gets it. Tell her, you know, to give me a call. When she’s ready.”

  He climbed into his Olds before I could tell him I would.

  Some Guys Have All the Luck

  I walked back home but didn’t go inside. Thankfully, the keys to the Cougar were still in my pocket, so I fired up the beast and headed to Christiana Hospital. It was time for a little coffee talk with my mom.

  Layla looked surprised to see me. “What happened to your party?”

  “Oh, that,” I said, waving her off. “Nothing. Listen, can you take a break?”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “Sure,” she said. “Give me a few.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were sitting across from each other at a small table in the cafeteria. She blew on her too-hot coffee while I retrieved the fat envelope Frank had given me and slid it across the table.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Open it.”

  A bunch of bills spilled out onto the table. Hundreds, twenties, tens. A note scrawled on a piece of motel stationery dropped on top of the pile.

  “What’s it say, Mom?”

  “His horse hit.”

  “What?”

  Layla shook her head. “Frank. He’s playing the horses again. Went down to Atlantic City mid-May and hit on a horse. According to this,” she continued, tapping the letter, “he’s been living off the winnings ever since.”

  “So much for changing.”

  We sorted the bills into piles and Layla did a quick count. “Jesus,” she said, her voice a near whisper.

  “What?”

  “There’s eight thousand dollars here.”

  “Holy shit!”

  We were silent for a minute, both of us staring at the wad of money resting between us. Eight thousand dollars could pay for a lot of things. Fixing our central air-conditioning, for one. A new muffler for the Cougar, for another.

  Layla opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off. “No,” I said. “You’re not giving it back. How much of your savings did he piss away at the track? He owes you this money.”

  Her face clouded over and she shoved the cash back into its envelope. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said. “Right now I’m going to see if I can find anyone to cover the rest of my shift.”

  Another fifteen minutes and we were heading home. Layla was staring out the window, a dark look on her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Missy.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “I’ll do it for you.”

  “But it’s my fault. I’m the one who pushed Frank on her again. I really thought—”

  “You weren’t wrong,” I cut in. “He left Sea his address and phone number, didn’t he? It’s a start.”

  She patted my knee. “You take good care of your old mom, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “No,” Layla said. “Most times.” She leaned forward and turned the eight-track off. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation the other night—what you said about school.”

  “Mom!” I said. “I seriously cannot talk about this right now.”

&nbs
p; “So don’t talk—listen.”

  I gritted my teeth, waiting for her to deliver her seven hundredth lecture of the summer on Why Critter Needs to Be a Better Student.

  “You remember Trish, right? The cute blond nurse you had the crush on? She went to Haley, too—graduated five or six years ago. Anyway, she was telling me that she did this work release program her senior year. Took three classes in the morning and then worked at the hospital in the afternoons for credit.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And I was thinking maybe you could do something like that. You’d have to pass your summer class, of course, and get Cs or better next year to stay in the program. But I’ve been thinking that maybe you would learn better outside the classroom than in one.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. For as long as I could remember, Layla had been saying stuff like “If only you’d try harder . . .” and “I wish you’d really apply yourself.” Now this?

  “So what’s the catch?” I said. “There is a catch, right?”

  “I want you in tutoring. Effective immediately.”

  I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. “That’s it? That’s the catch?”

  She nodded. “I’m not giving up on the idea of you going to college, either.”

  “Where would I work? I mean, I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”

  “That’s the best part,” she said, smiling. “Trish’s boyfriend, Randy, works at WJBR. They’re looking for an intern for fall and she thinks he could get you in. You’re supposed to call him tomorrow when you get home from school—if you’re interested, that is.”

  Interested? The thought of me interning at an adult contemporary radio station—a very Rod-friendly kind of place—and only having to do half days at Haley was almost enough to erase the ugliness I’d been dealing with all day.

  Almost.

  “We should go in,” Layla said. “We can talk more about this later.”

  We found Sea and Jesse sitting in the middle of the living room floor, playing rummy.

  “Jess,” Layla said, “can you excuse us for a minute?”

  “This is about Frank, isn’t it?” Sea asked.

  Layla nodded. “How did you know?”

  “Why else would you come home in the middle of a shift?” She leaned back against the couch. “Jesse can stay.”

  The four of us sat on the carpet together. Layla took the envelope out of her purse and handed it to Seattle. “Frank gave this to you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Layla said. “And I’m giving it to you. For college.”

  Seattle rolled her eyes. “Screw that,” she said. “Let’s get the goddamned air-conditioning fixed already.”

  Layla started to protest but I jumped in. “There’s more, Sea,” I said. “Frank’s gone.”

  “Gone?” she repeated. “Like dead gone?”

  “No,” I said. “Like back-to-Scranton gone.”

  “Oh.” She sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. “Oh,” she said again, more softly this time.

  Layla reached out and stroked Sea’s shoulder. “You okay, Missy?”

  “Sure,” she said, shrugging. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You don’t have to hide your disappointment,” Layla said. “We can talk about it.”

  Sea pushed her hand away. “You don’t get it. I don’t care.”

  “Of course you care.”

  “No!” she yelled. “You care. I never wanted him to come back to begin with.”

  “Lower your voice,” Layla said. “Let’s talk about this in a civilized tone.”

  “But I don’t want to talk about it,” Sea said. “I never want to talk about it again.”

  She got up and headed outside, slamming the door behind her. Layla nudged me. “Go after her, Boo. Make sure she’s okay.”

  Outside, Sea was sitting on the front stoop. I sat down next to her and said, “So you really don’t care, huh?”

  She shook her head, but I read something different on her face. I put my arms around her. She was stiff at first, but then melted into my hug.

  “You were right about Scott, you know,” she said after a while. “He’s leaving, too.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He says he’s got some mondo job waiting for him back home, but I doubt it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “Then why did you bring it up?”

  She pulled away from me then, and I could see the tears clouding her eyes. I don’t think I’d ever seen her look so beautiful.

  “Sea?” I asked. “Why did you do that earlier?”

  “Do what?”

  “You know,” I said quietly. “My shoulder.”

  “Oh, that.” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Seattle looked away, but I couldn’t stop staring at her. Without even thinking about it, I reached for her chin and turned her face toward me.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, but didn’t jerk away. I cupped her face in my hands and leaned toward her, feeling her breath growing hotter on my face until our lips were touching. My heart beat wildly in my chest. The whole time I kept thinking, What am I doing? All I knew was that it felt right.

  Sea pulled away from me so abruptly that I banged my head against her ear. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  My mouth was hanging open so far I must’ve looked like a goldfish out of his bowl. I watched as her hands flew to the top of her head, feeling for the dreadlocks I’d lopped off what seemed like forever ago.

  “You’re just feeling bad because of Sarah,” she said, not looking at me. “That’s all it is.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s not.”

  It was all so confusing. Sarah, Shelli, Sea. Especially Sea. I wondered if things would’ve been different if Layla hadn’t hooked up with Frank. What if Sea and I had met on our own? Would we still have been friends? And if we had, would I still have felt so confused?

  “It is because of Sarah,” Sea said firmly. “It has to be.”

  “Maybe,” I said, because I knew it was what she wanted to hear. “Maybe it is because of her.”

  A shaky smile spread across Sea’s face. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “For both of us.” She patted my knee, stood up, and went back inside.

  seattle

  The Goodbye Boy

  Layla left for the night shift around nine-thirty; twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Scott.

  “I’ve got something for you.” He handed me one of those huge Bloomingdale’s bags with the twine handles. Inside were not one but two skateboards. The first was my old Kryptonics, with fresh grip tape on top and a set of brand-new wheels on the bottom. “For backup,” Scott said.

  The second was the one he’d built me. It was gorgeous. He’d coated the deck with shiny black paint. On the underside of the tail, he’d screened a cartoon outline of a girl’s face. Her mouth was a cherry red heart and she had electric blue dreadlocks sprouting out of her head.

  I could barely breathe. “She’s beautiful!” I said when I found my voice.

  “Yeah, she is,” Scott said—but he wasn’t looking at the board.

  “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

  He smiled. “Your face just did.”

  We stood there, me on one side of the door and him on the other. “Can I come in?” he asked in a tentative voice.

  “Oh, right,” I said. “Sure.”

  I held the new skateboard across my chest like a shield. Scott gestured to it and said, “You shouldn’t ride it for another day or so. The lacquer needs time to set fully.”

  I nodded, still clutching it to me. “So when do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow night,” he said. “I’m taking the red-eye back home.”

  So that was it. He was really going, and I was really never going to see him again.

  “I told my parents about you.”

&nbs
p; “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Why?”

  “Because they couldn’t understand why I almost turned the job down.”

  This was . . . unexpected. Was it possible there really was some awesome job he simply couldn’t pass up?

  “What changed your mind?” I asked.

  “They told me if I came back early, they’d pay for me to fly out here over winter break.”

  It took a minute for the words to sink in. “So you are coming back?”

  “If you still want me to,” he said slowly. “Then again, it is six months from now.”

  “Right,” I said. “Maybe you’ll have a girlfriend by then.”

  He shook his head. “I like you so much, Seattle. You have no idea how much I like you.”

  His words made me blush, and I couldn’t hide the smile. “I like you, too,” I confessed.

  “I want to know you better. I want us to write, and talk on the phone, and I definitely want to see you again.”

  My smile turned into a nervous grin. “Me too,” I said. “But what if—”

  “Things change?” he finished for me. “Then we’ll be honest with each other. I don’t want to turn out to be another person who disappoints you. You don’t deserve that.”

  He was saying all the right things in all the right ways, and yet something was still wrong. Maybe it was me. Maybe I was what was wrong.

  Scott squeezed my hand. “Can I see you tomorrow after class? We never did get to log any skate time.”

  I shook my head. “This is hard enough as it is.”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I know. Didn’t hurt to ask, right?”

  I walked him to the door. He leaned in for a goodbye kiss, but at the last second I turned my head, and his lips landed on my cheek. He looked startled and maybe a little hurt. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”

  He hopped off the front stoop and gave a little wave. I stood there, watching him walk away, feeling like someone had ripped my heart right out of my chest. He was halfway down the street when he turned and hollered, “I will see you again. I can feel it!” He let out a whoop and thumped his chest like Tarzan. It made me laugh.