“Yeah. It’s your birthday, and I love you.” He blinked and looked down but kept the umbrella steady.
She grabbed the umbrella out of his hand and tossed it to the ground. They were both being sprinkled on, but he was good with it because she threw herself at him and wrapped him up with her body.
“Thank you,” she whispered, rocking him back and forth.
He squeezed her with one arm and tugged on the ends of her long, now-damp hair with his other hand. It was fun to do that.
“I usually hate my birthdays,” she admitted.
He knew that but kept it to himself.
She let go, put her palms out and walked in a slow, turning circle, experiencing the false rain from every angle.
He picked up the shoe box on the ground and grabbed a handful, then tossed it at her.
Grass clippings from his lawn that was always irrigated were sticking to her slicker. “You’ve never come over to sit on my lawn with me, so I brought it to you.”
She burst into giggles, and he was uncertain if tears were on her cheeks since there was hose water on her head, dripping down.
“You are too good to be real.” She pulled off the rain slicker and the hose stopped.
Good. Zach’s instructions were to keep her clothes dry if he could.
“Sorry your hair got wet. But I’m prepared.” Adam rocked in place a little bit.
Zach came out of the bushes, handed him a blue towel and left.
She waved at him with a big, goofy grin and then turned to Adam. “You wanna dry my hair for me?”
“I . . . I d-don’t know how.” He choked on his words and extended the towel to her.
“It’s not like you can mess up this rat’s nest. I don’t do anything with it. And if it’s wet, people will think I was at PE or something. Nobody’s gonna notice.”
“O-okay,” he stammered.
She turned around, and he slipped one hand under her hair. It was much darker while wet, but he liked that, too.
He sandwiched her hair between the towel, rubbed, but only enough to space out the strands—not hard enough to pull or hurt her.
After he was done, he set the towel down. “Was this enough for a birthday gift? I didn’t know what else to get you. I don’t have any access to money right now.”
She turned around to face him. “You already bought me concert tickets, and you’ve changed my days so they’re like walking on clouds with an angel.”
He smiled and bit the insides of his cheeks so he could keep from saying something dumb.
“No, not walking. Flying. I think you put me on your back between your wings and then soar as high as you can with my weight burdening you.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she kissed him.
She pulled away after a short moment and said, “Perfect. This was the perfect gift. The best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
And with that comment, he was the one flying. All these weeks that he’d kept this umbrella, the rain slickers and towel in his car for inclement weather was not wasted. He was glad he’d made that note that first time she wore a tank top and covered it up with a sweater.
She was wrong about one thing, though—she was the angel—not him. Never him. He had no idea how to fly without her.
* * *
After Mari’s birthday about a week ago, things were different. She found it harder to distance herself from Adam. He was a new drug—a new potent addiction. He made her feel better than anything she had ever snorted, shot up, smoked or drank.
He said the most beautiful things to her, making her almost believe she was redeemable. It was nice to live in his dream world for a while. It gave her a sense of peace she hadn’t ever really known.
And right now, she was about to hurt him. It couldn’t be helped.
She drove up to his house after dinnertime and parked in his driveway. Her whole body was shaking with electrified nerves. If only she could stuff him in her suitcase and take her with him.
She sat slumped over her wheel for several minutes trying to give herself a pep talk, but it wasn’t working. If anything . . . she was more determined to just skip town and not say a word—all to avoid seeing that look of devastation in his eyes that would be inevitable.
She sighed, opened the car door and when she slammed it shut, she jumped from how loud it was.
Her legs dragged as she approached his front door. She barely knocked once when the door was flung open.
“You’re here!” he yelled with his eyes all lit up.
He took a huge step forward, picked her up and hugged her so tight she could barely see straight.
“Yeah, I came to see you. I can only have a short visit, though.” She patted his back lightly.
He set her down and beamed at her with those gleaming, perfect white teeth. She could almost see his matching radiant white halo over his head. Why did he have to be so damn perfect? It would be easier to do this if he wasn’t.
“Can I come in?” she asked, nerves shooting through her like bolts of lightning.
“You can always come in my house!” He took her hand but let her lead the way. He was patient with her.
Another trait she envied of him.
When she was inside the living room, his father stepped in and joined them.
He sighed and a look of disappointment crossed his eyes, then settled in his tight jaw. “I know you two are still friends, but I have to say, Mari, I don’t really approve. Especially of the cigarettes.”
“I know, sir. I wish I could say I was working on quitting, but I’m not. It’s the least of my problems.”
He motioned for her to sit. “Then tell me about these problems. I need to know what my son’s gotten himself involved in.”
She sat down, heaved a great sigh and looked him straight in the eye. Now was as good a time as it would ever be to give him the basics of how low-down and filthy she was. “I know Adam’s life got turned around at age twelve—”
“We’re not going to discuss him—I want to hear about who you are. Start telling me, or you’re leaving . . .” His eyes were stern, crinkled at the corners, but it made him look wise, not mean.
“I wasn’t going to talk about him. I just was going to say that was how old I was when things went to hell for me, too.” He glared at her use of the word hell. “Sorry . . . I’m a little nervous.” She swiped at her face with her free hand. Adam was seated on her right, holding the hand closest to him tightly to the side of his thigh. “I was babysitting, and there was an accident. The baby girl died. This was during a summer I was visiting my dad in a little town where he lives in northern Utah. I’m actually here to say goodbye to Adam because that’s where I’m gonna be for all of this next week during fall break.”
Adam gasped. “I wanna go too.” His shoulders hunched up.
“You can’t,” both Mari and his dad chanted in unison.
He exhaled loudly as if to protest.
“Before I go, I figure I should tell you the rest of what happened to me. My dad was chief of police, so he made sure no charges were pressed, and I never got put in juvie or anything like that, but it was definitely my fault. After that, well, I got drunk and high every chance I could get. I traded sex for drugs since I was poor, and I was in rehab at the age of fifteen. I had two relapses, one of them shortly after rehab, but, well . . . I’ve been clean ever since. I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, but I’ll continue to smoke because other than Adam, it’s the only thing I have that keeps me from going ballistic.”
“You need therapy, young lady, and lots of it,” his dad said, but it was done in kindness. He wore an empathetic look in his eyes, and his tone was soft—pleading almost.
“I know I do. I’ve been in therapy on and off for years, but it hasn’t seemed to help. Both my parents are a wreck, and they’ve basically given up on me. I’ve tried to get Adam here to do the same, but he won’t—”
“I won’t ever stop loving you,” Adam interrupted.
&nb
sp; “Love’s a very strong word,” his dad cautioned.
“I know that, and I know how I feel. Zach helped me to figure it out. I love her, and I want to be with her. I know she’s made bad choices, but so have I. We need each other.” Adam took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“There were other things I did along the way I regretted, but I won’t bore you with the details. Just know . . . I aim to get good grades, and I try very hard to keep from cursing around your son, because I try to respect your family’s rules, but I’m not gonna stop smoking around him. I get tense, and if I want to be able to be there for him emotionally at all times and in every way, then it means I need a smoke now and then. I’ll try to keep it at a minimum. In fact . . . I’ve stopped smoking before school. I only smoke after, so during the day at school, he won’t smell it on me.”
“Well, that makes everything better then, doesn’t it.” His father rolled his eyes a little and clicked his tongue. “I think this conversation is over. Be friends at school—fine. But other than that, keep away.”
“I will.” She stood up to go. Adam hugged her from behind.
“I’m not gonna let go,” Adam warned.
She pulled his hands apart that he had interlocked around her waist.
“You have to. But come and say goodbye at the door.” She turned around and smiled. He was on the verge of tears.
She took his hand and led him to her exit.
Once there, she said, “Don’t try and find me. Promise me you won’t.” She cupped his jaw.
“I have to. I won’t promise you that.”
“Listen to me . . . Your father cares and wants the best. I do, too. And getting some distance from me might be good for you.”
“How can it be?” The tears splashed on the carpet now.
“You can call me all you want, text, email. I can keep in touch too, but you can’t see me during this next week.”
“Why did you wait until today to tell me? I mean, are you leaving right now?”
She nodded. “On my way to the airport when I leave here.”
“But I’ll miss you.”
“I know, ‘cause I’ll miss you like crazy, too. I’m sorry I waited. I didn’t want to ruin your week at school and make you stressed out. I thought it’d be better this way.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and swiped it away with the pad of her thumb like she always did while cupping his chin.
He grabbed her hand to keep it there. “Someday . . . Mari, I’m gonna have a bed we can share together, but not to sleep together. Zach told me that means sex, and I know you don’t wanna have sex with me.” He frowned.
She ran her thumb over his lower lip. It was pouting. She laughed hard. “You have no idea what I want, Adam, and I’m glad you don’t. It would dirty your soul.”
“Don’t go . . .” he whimpered.
“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” Tears welled in her eyes. Her lips trembled. “Believe me, if I could stay, I would. I’d much rather see you every day than go to that hellhole.”
“I can save you. I can keep you here.” He took her hand in his and placed it on his heart. “You’d be safe with me.”
“I wish that was true for you as well, but it’s not.” She kissed him, pulled away and left before she did something really stupid.
An hour later, she was on a plane flying to Alta, Utah. The town that drizzled a lot because God was pissing on it, to mark it as his official toilet for humanity. That’s where her life got flushed away.
Yes, she liked rain, but not when she was there—the tiny ski town with one of the highest elevations in all of the United States.
She always had a hard time breathing there when she’d arrive, and it would take a few days to get used to it.
But so what? She deserved to rot there forever.
The flight was fairly dead. Not many people were traveling to Salt Lake.
She tried to sleep, but found herself floating in and out of horrific memories of her few summers she had spent in that dinky town.
Several times she took out a pad of paper and a pen to write a letter to Adam.
In the end, they were all garbage, so she tore them up and stuffed them in her carry-on.
She wished she’d left him with a soda at least to cheer him up, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly when she stopped by to say her farewell.
It was one in the morning when she arrived. She had no idea if her dad would be there to pick her up, because she refused to talk to him before she left for this excursion. What was there to say? I don’t want to see you, I hate that town, and I get sick when I look at you? Better to remain silent.
She moved through the airport, grabbed her bags and when she was ready to call for a cab, she saw him. The one person she was hoping to avoid.
Oh, hell had already found her, and its jaws were gaping after her.
It was going to be forty-five minutes of being trapped in a car with him, listening to him complain about everything from his shallow dating and social life, to how awful his hair was looking today because the salon didn’t have the kind of hair products he needed in stock.
“Why are you here?” she asked by way of greeting.
“Your dad sent me to get you.” His eyes raked over her while he smirked. “You look edible, like my next meal. And you know where I like to eat.”
“With the pigs in the wallow.” She snorted.
“In my bed with me between your legs.” He smirked.
“Give it a rest, Vic. You know I’m not your girl anymore. I never really was. I used you to party and get high.” She walked past him. Waiting on the curb for a cab with him yapping in her ear was going to be less than pleasant, but better than being stuck in a car with him for almost an hour.
He ripped her bags out of her arms. “Don’t be like that. I’ll help you dejunk your dad’s house, I’ll give you the good stuff, and you’ll let me and my buddies do whatever we want to you.”
Slaaaaam!
She had him by the throat, her forearm wedged tight. He was up against the outside brick wall of the airport. “The only way you’ll ever touch me again is when I’m pulling the last breath out of your body like I’m doing now.” She jammed her elbow harder into his Adam’s apple.
“You always were dramatic . . . Damn, girl . . . Relax.” He chuckled and reached out to grab her hip, bringing her closer.
“And you were always a loser. Still are.” She pushed off him with a look of pure disgust. “I’ll walk.”
She grabbed her stuff and took off.
He chased her down. “C’mon. I was only messing around. There’s no way you can walk all that distance to your dad’s. I’ll take you home.”
“It’s not my home,” she said through her grinding teeth.
“Whatever.” He had her bags again and was running to his stupid, beat-up yellow VW bug.
He set the bags down, popped the trunk and put her things inside.
She got in the backseat and stretched out.
“So, what’s the deal? Got a boyfriend or something? You never tried to choke me before.” He laughed. “That was fun.”
“You and your nasty-ass fetishes.” She shook her head. He was probably into that erotic asphyxiation. It wouldn’t surprise her.
“Exactly. My nasty ass—and that’s where you belong. You’re the only one that could do it right.”
“And only when I was high. I’m clean now. Have been for over two years, and it’s gonna stay that way.” She stared out the window.
“Why?”
“Why what? Why don’t you run away and be homeless for a week and then ask me why I don’t do that fucking shitty stuff anymore.” She popped her knuckles. Her whole body was tense, even her toes.
“So, eating garbage from dumpsters is what snapped you out of it?”
“No . . . Being a step away from selling my body to strangers and realizing I’d probably die of AIDS before I could vote is what did it for me.” That, and the idea of turning out like her old ro
ommate in rehab, London Jones, was what shut her veins off from all that stuff.
London had become a Meth addict. Her teeth were black, she was losing her hair and looked like she had escaped from a concentration camp. She was all skin and bones. It was the scariest thing she’d ever seen when London found her on the street. It had been a year since she’d seen her friend back in rehab, and she was not the same at all. It was difficult to have a coherent conversation with her. It was even harder to look at her too with all the sores on her face, not to mention she looked to be in her mid-thirties when she had barely turned twenty.
Before London had gotten hooked, she’d looked like a runway model with her striking, long red hair, green eyes, long legs and lean body with porcelain skin. Most girls would’ve killed to look like her.
What sent Mari over the edge when she was on the street was seeing her friend’s pregnant belly, watching her vomit every hour, sending Mari into her episodes. London was a horrific mess and didn’t even care.
Mari ran back home that night. One week on the streets, and she was cured of wanting to be a junkie.
She’d never be that again.
“You’re not better than me,” he huffed.
“The day I’m better than anybody is the day the world stops turning. Just drive, huh, Victor? I wanna get to bed.” She pulled out her phone, plugged in her earbuds and tuned him out.
Adam’s mixes were amazing. She had enjoyed working out to them. Tonight she’d listen to the ballads he did so she could maybe sleep a little.
It was doubtful it would drown out the nightmare she always had when she was here, but she’d try.
After a long, uncomfortable drive, the car stopped. She pulled the earbuds out.
He rested his arm on the back of his seat and turned to look at her. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“Yeah? Whose was it, then? Yours?” She opened the car door. He grabbed her by the arm.
“Owen forgives you.” He was breathing on her face.
“Why would he do that?”
“He realizes he was only a teenager, too. He didn’t know what he was doing asking a twelve-year-old to babysit and giving you those stupid instructions. He hates himself, not you.” He let go of her arm.
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