“Go get my dad,” I said, hurriedly. “Tell him Matt’s back in the parking lot, and we need help. Cops.”
As she stared at me, I waved her away. “Just go tell him! Hurry!”
When she ran off, I rushed back to the fight, snagging a butcher knife on my way out. I had no intention of using it, but I’d be damned if I wouldn’t defend myself if he came at me.
The two guys were still scuffling when I returned, Matt pinning Zach to the fence with a forearm pressed against his neck.
“That shit wasn’t my fault!” he screamed at Zach. “I didn’t make him drive home!”
Half a brick rested by the back door, used to prop it open when hauling stuff in and out. Opting for distance rather than potentially stabbing someone, I picked it up and sprinted past the cars, hurling it straight at the fence. It landed inches from Zach’s head, cracking the white pickets beside him, but it was enough to scare Matt into dropping his hold. He spun on me, fuming. I held my ground, knife gripped in my fist as tight as I could to keep myself from shaking.
Matt’s nose and lips were swollen and bleeding, but it didn’t seem to faze him. “This is all your damn fault, Mouse!”
“The hell it is. Get over yourself.”
He snarled and started forward, but Zach flew at him from behind, tackling him to the asphalt. As I released a whooshing breath, two people rushed around me, and a police car screeched into the parking lot, lights blazing with a burst of sirens. Zach kept Matt pinned, a knee in his back, as my father and Kareem came to help him, two cops hurrying out of the car the second it was in park.
As the fight was broken up, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. Two in, four out. Two in, four out. My hand settled on the hood of a car, the only thing keeping me upright for the moment. I was lightheaded and bordering on the urge to vomit. The knife clattered to the ground.
“Margie, you okay?” Kareem said, steadying me on my feet.
“I… yeah,” I managed to say. “I think I just need to sit down.”
Knowing I’d have to give a statement to the cops, I let Kareem guide me over to the sea wall, easing me to the ground instead of tempting fate by sitting on the tops of the wooden beams. After assuring him I was fine, he left me alone, collecting my dropped knife and heading back inside. I rested my head on my knees, ready to be home and in bed. As soon as I was able to stand, I needed to get my emergency migraine pills from my purse.
“So, that was exciting,” Zach said as he sank down next to me. “You all right?”
I lifted my head and looked at him. Even in the poor lighting I could see swelling around his right eye, his lip busted and bleeding. His neck was hidden by his collar, but I was sure there would be bruising there as well.
I stared at him. “Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital or something?”
He shrugged. “My parents are on their way from their party to take me over to the ER, but don’t worry, I’ve done more damage to myself than this business.”
“You look like hell.”
He snorted, then winced. “Yeah, well he looks worse.”
Four in, eight out.
I stood up, steadier than I thought I would be. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Jogging inside, I snagged a brining bag and headed to the bar, sneaking around Addison to scoop crushed ice into it. After a quick stop to down a migraine pill and wet a hand towel, I returned to the parking lot. My dad was talking to the cops, making some sort of statement, so it was probably going to be a minute before they got to me or Zach.
I sat down beside him again, cross-legged and turned towards him. Holding the bag of ice to his eye, I released it when he took over and started cleaning up his face a little with the towel.
We were quiet for the longest time, our silence interspersed with his sharp inhalations any time I hit a more tender area of his face. I wasn’t sure where to start the conversation, so I said nothing instead, my mind turning over everything I’d heard him say.
He’d defended me.
He’d fought hard, not just for me, but for himself, too.
He was bleeding and bruised because he’s finally stood up to the biggest asshole I’d ever known.
“Hey, Zach?” I said at last, gently wiping away the drying blood on the side of his neck.
“Hmm?” He lowered the ice pack, looking out at me from swollen lids.
“Seventy-thirty. In your favor.”
The half of his mouth that wasn’t busted turned up in a grin. “Extra points for bleeding?”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “No, but kid Margie would’ve loved that part.” Lowering the towel, I stared at my hands. “I’m not happy you got hurt.”
“Then that makes two of us. But, Margie?”
I looked up at him. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the cops collecting him for a statement and my dad ushering me away. It was half an hour before they got to me, and Zach’s parents collected him the moment he was done with the police. Whatever it was he was going to thank me for, I’d have to wait to find out.
By the time the night was over, it felt like something had changed drastically. All I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t miss Fourth of July on Carrinaw Island when I left. That, and my bed was the most comfortable spot on the planet.
Chapter 19
The next three days were a blur of having to explain over and over what happened at the restaurant on the Fourth of July. By day four I’d figured out how to condense the story into about five sentences that I repeated almost mechanically. I didn’t see Zach the entire weekend, though my parents assured me he was fine. He had a slight concussion, a fractured rib, and his throat was pretty raw from the choking, but he was resting and would be healed up in no time.
By Monday I was a little worried that no one had seen him, however. Not so much as a carrot flower had graced the hood of my car since the blowout with Matt. Mulling it over as my cup of coffee cooled down, I made a decision.
An hour later, I was staring at a batch of chocolate chip cookies and chewing on my lip, not entirely convinced they were a good idea. I’d be making a huge concession if I went through with the delivery, but my conscience was eating at me. Feeling like I owed him something was not a state I was comfortable living in.
Procrastinating as much as I could, I took a shower to wash the flour and sugar out of my hair. I hit a snag after getting dressed, however.
To makeup, or not to makeup?
If he really was the changed person he claimed to be, Zach wouldn’t care. And if his face was still swollen, he might not be able to tell anyway. In the end, I settled on a compromise. A little powder, a touch of mascara, and just a hint of blush to bring up the color I’d managed to get in the sun. A minimal effort so I didn’t feel like I was trying too hard, but enough work that I didn’t feel like a slob.
I still hesitated at the cookies, however. What would I even say?
Five in, ten out.
Done with stressing over it, I picked up the plastic container and marched out the door, heading straight for the main house. Out of habit, I scanned the places the boys used to lie in wait for me, but stopped myself the second I realized what I was doing. I wasn’t a kid anymore. With one last deep breath, I pushed through the kitchen door.
Rosie was at the island, plating soup and bread on a tray. She looked up when I poked my head in, instantly smiling.
“Ay, mija, what brings you here?”
I closed the back door and shrugged, sheepish. “I, uh, that is…” Nervous, I stepped up to the counter and pushed the cookies across to her. “Just wanted to drop these off.”
She pursed her lips, trying not to grin. “Any particular reason?”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I shook my head. “No, not really. Felt like baking this morning and figured I’d share. That’s all.”
Humming thoughtfully,
she set a glass of milk on the tray. “I see. Well, you’re just in time to help. Be a good girl and get the doors for me? It’s Lettie’s day off, and I need to take lunch to Zach.”
A momentary panic gripped me. “But I just… I was only…”
She lifted the tray and went for the exit. “You wouldn’t leave an old woman stranded, would you, mija? I’d hate to break these dishes if I drop something. Bring the cookies.”
Without an inch of room to argue, I snatched up the container and hurried to catch her, pushing the kitchen door open, then following close on her heels as we wound through the Robinson mansion. I’d never been comfortable anywhere in that house outside of the kitchen. The unmarred creamy walls, the high shine of the hardwood floors, and the expensive paintings and sculptures, all pristinely arranged, were about as far out of my comfort zone as it got. Rosie moved through all of it with a toddling grace reserved for housekeepers and grandmothers, though, completely at ease with every inch of the place. Up the big staircase from the entryway, we hooked left to the west wing. I heard the telltale sounds of a movie playing halfway down the corridor, but we didn’t stop until we reached the last room at the end.
Rosie turned and looked at me, expectant. “Well? Knock first.”
I tucked the container under my arm and reached out, leaving three quick raps that likely went unheard. Rosie made an impatient face at me, so I straightened and tried again, louder. The noise inside stopped a few seconds later.
“And now we open it,” she prompted, her eyebrow quirked in amusement.
I turned the handle and pushed it open, so quick it was like it burned me. That was Zach’s door. That was Zach’s room.
What in the world was I doing there?
“Lunch, mijo!” Rosie said in a singsong voice as she strode in the room. I hovered in the doorway, ready to sprint. “And you have a visitor.”
“It’s not the lawyer again, is it?” His voice sounded scratchy from somewhere in the dark room.
I heard her set the tray on a table, and moments later, light flooded the room as she snapped open the curtains.
“You’ll never get better if you sit here in the dark,” she said in answer to his grumbles of protest. “And no, not a lawyer.” She turned to me, one hand on her hip, the other sternly beckoning me forward. “Don’t just stand there, Margie. It’s bad luck to linger in a doorway. People will think you’re up to something.”
My shoulders immediately tensed, and I dared a glance at Zach. He was sprawled out in the middle of a king sized bed, blankets and sheets twisted up like he hadn’t left them for days. His face was a black and blue mess, but he wasn’t nearly as swollen as the last time I saw him. He did, however, look incredibly surprised.
I stepped inside the room, nervously taking in the space that was nearly the size of my parents’ house. It was loosely divided up into two rooms by a partial wall to the left, and the door to an incredibly impressive bathroom sat off to the right. The four-poster bed looked like something I’d only seen in movies, and it faced a TV that was probably as wide as I was tall. A rack of video game consoles sat below that, all the latest models, of course, and the shelves below it were filled with games and movies, overflowing in a stack on the floor. Windows took up the entire far wall, but Rosie had only opened the curtains on one.
“You talk, I’ll bring up another tray,” she said as she all but shoved me farther into the room.
“But I’m not…” was as far as I got before she was gone. “Staying.” I sighed. Now what?
There was a quiet chuckle behind me, and I turned towards him.
“She’s tricky, isn’t she?” He stretched and sat up in bed, wincing at the movement. “So what’s up, Margie? Your parents ready to fire me for missing my shifts?”
“I… No. Not yet.” I fidgeted with the container, my heart racing.
“So this is a pity visit then, huh?”
Frowning, I stepped up beside the bed and set the cookies beside him. “It’s not a pity visit. I just… How’re you doing?”
Zach studied me for a moment, making me squirm, but he shifted his focus to my gift after a few seconds. “I’m okay. What’s this?”
As he popped the lid, I fumbled with an explanation. “No one’s seen you since that night, is all, so I just thought, you know, I’d check with Rosie and see if maybe you needed anything or whatever.”
When he looked inside the container, he sat up straight, grunting to mask his pain. “You made these?” He looked up at me, staring through eyes riddled with broken blood vessels. “For me?”
I waved it off, my hands fluttering at him. “Well, yeah. I guess. Since you liked them and all. And you got beat up. I dunno. If I’d taken the garbage out instead, it’d probably be me all smashed up, or worse, so… Yeah. I made cookies. For you.” I folded my arms to keep from flailing any more. God, I was such a spaz. “Thank you.”
He picked up a cookie, turning it over like it was something that needed to be read. “So all I had to do to get cookies was let a drunk idiot pound my face and try to kill me? What are these made of, platinum?”
I bristled, my mood souring. “Look, if you’re going to be a jerk about this, I’m gonna go. I didn’t waste my morning baking these just to—”
“They smell amazing, Margie, thank you.”
It was impossible not to look unpleasant, but his appreciation kept my temper at bay.
He eased back on the pillows and took a bite of cookie. Stopping mid-chew, he closed his eyes, a smile creeping across his busted lip.
“Do they meet His Highness’s approval?”
Zach swallowed and grinned at me. “They’re awesome. Man, I missed these.”
“Well, don’t eat them all at once. You’ll make yourself sick, and then Rosie will be mad at me for not making you eat your lunch. In fact…” I reached forward and yanked the bin away, knowing he couldn’t move fast enough to fend me off. “No more until you eat your soup.”
Mouth full of cookie, he mumbled a protest at me as I took the container away, trading out the box of cookies for the tray of food on the little table a few feet away. I approached with a question on my face, waiting for his decision, but he didn’t offer any more arguments after swallowing what was in his mouth. He sat up and positioned himself for eating, and I set the tray in his lap.
As I pulled way, he caught my arm, and I froze, staring at him from much closer than I wanted to be.
“Thank you. I mean it. No one else has come to see me. Just texts and two-minute phone calls.”
My cheeks heated. “No one?”
He shook his head. “Just you.”
“You should probably re-evaluate who your friends are, no offense or anything.”
His hand slipped from my forearm, finding my fingers. “And I meant what I said that night, too. I’m done with Matt, and done with anyone else who acts like him. Thank you.”
Two in, four out.
“You keep thanking me for stuff, but all I see is that I nearly got you killed. What were you thinking, taking him on like that?”
The unbruised corner of his mouth turned up. “Well, I was thinking about—”
A throat cleared behind me, and I jumped so fast I nearly spilled his soup all over him. As I scrambled to my feet, Rosie wandered in with a second tray, setting it beside the box of cookies. She didn’t say a word, but her smug look spoke volumes. As quickly as she’d come in, she left, closing the door behind her.
“So, I know it’s no picnic in the park, but…” He paused when I looked at him and lifted his spoon. “Lunch date?”
I crossed my arms again, a lighter version of my scowl returning. “This is not a date.”
“But you will stay.”
I looked at the tray and sighed. Rosie even brought a small bowl of tomalita up with my meal. “You know how she gets about food. She won’t let me leave until I eat everything she gave me.”
Zach chuckled, dissolving into a scratchy cough that made me wince. “Then I gu
ess you have no choice.”
Rather than fight it, I allowed myself a small smile. “Yeah, looks that way.”
He lifted his tray and scooted over on the bed. “Saved you a seat.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “When was the last time you showered?”
“Gimme a break. I might be a little bruised, but I’m not a slob.”
“I’m surprised you managed to pry yourself out of bed. It must’ve taken a Herculean effort.”
With a smirk, he dug into his soup. “The more you talk, the more I’ll be convinced you’re trying to drag this out, you know.”
I jerked a little and straightened up, retrieving my tray from the table and sitting on the very edge of the bed. He chuckled again, but kept any further comments to himself.
As I took my first bite of soup, I silently admitted that it was nice to see him smiling again, even if it was with a split lip.
* * * * *
“This has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever watched,” I said, glancing at Zach from the corner of my eye. “What is this again?”
“How have you never seen The Brave Little Toaster?” He flung his arms at the screen. “Every person I know has seen this movie. What kind of childhood did you have that—”
As he snapped his mouth shut, an awkward silence descended over him, punctuated by the voices of inanimate objects brought to life.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
I held up a hand, stopping him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m not a grenade with a pin halfway out. Seriously. I’m not going to fall apart just because you mention being a kid.”
Frowning, he picked up the remote and paused the movie, staring at the frozen characters. “I just…”
When he didn’t continue, I nudged him with a shoulder. “You just what?”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I just don’t want to mess this up again, that’s all.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and thought about it. We’d been watching movies for hours, but there was a definite elephant in the room he was steering well clear of. There was only one way to get past it, and I had to lead the charge.
My Bittersweet Summer Page 19