A Life, Forward: A Rowan Slone Novel

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  He led us to the back where he had a small kitchen, or rather, one small spot cleared just enough for a hot pot. Even this counter was covered with books—old Stephen King novels, the spines cracked and faded, and one stack of steamy romance novels. I smirked at the thought of Mr. Sumners having a cup of tea and reading one of those stories.

  “Why don’t you two go sit in the cozy chairs up front, and I’ll bring you something warm to drink.”

  We wove our way back toward the front where there were two chairs, the upholstery faded and torn at the edges. There was a fireplace whose black pit was full of ancient-looking encyclopedias. I doubted Mr. Sumners planned to burn them, but they did look like a pile of aged wood.

  The store seemed empty unless there was some quiet introvert tucked back in one of the dark aisles. In this place, you could never tell. Of course, it was usually Jess who was huddled in a far corner, sneaking a few moments to read.

  Today, though, Jess’ eyes weren’t focused on a book. Rather, they were bright and glassy behind her glasses. Tears filled them and fell over red-rimmed lids, coursing down her thawing cheeks.

  “Jess, it’ll be okay—“

  “But how?” she interrupted. “Paul is gone. I’ll never see him again. Dad will kick me out. I can’t support myself, much less a baby. How is it going to be okay?” Jess started to sob, her nose running, her lips quivering. Up to this point, the baby had seemed like a dream, something a little unreal. But right now, with my best friend crying beside me, it seemed very real. Very real indeed. “What was I thinking—wanting to keep it? I’m a fool.”

  I reached over and took her hand. Her nails were still bare, long and a healthy pink.

  I pulled in a deep breath. “It will be okay because I know what you’re going to do.”

  “What?” She was heaving and placed a hand on her chest to help calm down.

  “I have a birthday present for you.”

  She snorted. “I’d forgotten all about my birthday.”

  “You and I are going to get an apartment together.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  “There is an empty apartment above Miss J’s. It has two bedrooms and the rent is cheap enough that we should be able to pay it. I got an email last night from Miss J. She thinks she can get some agency or something to help with the deposit and first month’s rent. This place can also help with groceries if we need it, and they also have formula for,” I glanced at her stomach, “you know. The baby.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Dead.”

  Jess was quiet for several minutes. “Oh my God, Ro. You’re serious.”

  I laughed, feeling almost giddy. Something was changing—I could feel it. The air was different, sweeter, cleaner, warmer. My heart was light and full of something good.

  Maybe it was knowing that I was making the right decision. After so many months of not knowing where I belonged; finally I knew with a certainty that took the ten tons from my shoulders and tossed them over the precipice.

  “But, aren’t you going to the university? What about school? You have to go to school.”

  Before I could give her my good news, Mr. Sumners walked in carrying two chipped teacups with roses and vines painted all over the ivory surface. They rested upon dainty little matching saucers.

  “Thank you.” I took the one he handed me.

  Jess took the other. “Thanks, Mr. Sumners. I really appreciate it.”

  He didn’t sit down—there was no other chair—but he put his hands on his hips and said, “So, you’re pregnant.”

  Jess let out a little burst of laughter; a foreign sound in the midst of the silence. “Yep. I’m pregnant.”

  “When is the baby due?”

  “May.”

  “You’ve been to see a doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Just as his mouth opened to ask another question, the bell rang, signaling a new customer. “Sit tight and enjoy your tea.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes as we listened to Mr. Sumners talk to the customer about a box of old comic books he’d gotten from a book convention. Not usually his cup of tea, he was saying, but he thought someone might enjoy them. Then we heard two pairs of footsteps take off toward the back of the store.

  I leaned over the armrest toward Jess. “I’m going to start at Berkeley Mountain College. They offered me a full ride. I’ll worry about veterinary school when the time comes. I have to get through undergrad first.”

  “Ro! That’s amazing!” She set her teacup down and pulled me into a tight hug over the arms of the chairs.

  “So it’s perfect. I’ll go to school nearby, stay on at the shelter, and we can get an apartment together.”

  “We’ll live together? You and me…and it?” She inhaled deeply. I could almost see the air filling her lungs, her limbs, her cells. She placed her hands on her stomach. They rounded against the swell of the baby. “You and me and him?” She opened her eyes and looked at me.

  “You, me, and him,” I answered.

  JESS AND I signed the rental contract that night. They scrutinized my driver’s license as if they didn’t believe I was eighteen, going so far as to ask me my birth date even though it was imprinted on the hard plastic. They never said a word to Jess even though today was her actual birthday. I guess thirty years from now I’d be happy to look younger than I was. Finally, after the guy helping us called in his manager to double-check my license, we left, a new rental contract in hand.

  After I dropped Jess off at her apartment, I drove around. I wanted to gather my thoughts before I went back to the Anderson’s. Halfway out of town, my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Rowan?”

  I slammed on the brakes before I hit the truck in front of me. “Mike?”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m, um…” As the word good formed on my lips, I sighed. I was about to share with him my morning and remembered the judgment written all over his face the last time I saw him, the last time we spoke. In the end, I said nothing.

  “Rowan, talk to me.”

  “Why are you calling?”

  “To tell you I’m sorry. I have been a complete ass. I shouldn’t judge you. You say it’s in the past, it’s in the past.”

  “Wow,” I managed, my head spinning.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I mean, I’ve missed you, I guess. It’s not easy being away from you. And this team, well, it’s hard. Ya know what I mean?”

  I nodded.

  “Ro?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know what you mean.”

  “I guess it’s all just gotten to me. And…” he paused and I could hear his breath through the phone line. “How did I not know? How did I miss that?”

  Something in him sounded different—like he wasn’t judging me but was judging himself.

  “I wasn’t that distracted, was I? That I didn’t notice you were struggling?”

  “No.” I didn’t want to talk about this, but I guess I needed to. “I am a master at covering it up.”

  “Was I ever not there for you when you…when, you know, you needed someone? And did that instead?”

  I thought back to the times I had cut, when I was eleven…thirteen…when I was seventeen, all the times in-between. The cutting had nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t have been able to help me even if I’d reached out to him. Or, maybe he would’ve. But I hadn’t given him a chance and that wasn’t his fault.

  “No. Mike, it was just something I did. But I don’t anymore. I started doing it a long time ago before I ever met you.”

  He was so quiet I pulled the phone away from my ear to see if we were still connected. I was stuck behind a truck but I didn’t pass it. Somehow the slow, crawling pace helped settle my thoughts, and my heart.

  “Well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “Wow,” I said again. This was the Mike I knew. He was not judgmental. He was caring and tender. “Um, thank you. I really
appreciate that.”

  Silence hung heavy for a few minutes and I put my foot on the brake as the truck in front of me pulled onto the off-ramp. It was quiet on the other end of the phone. There were no other voices, no girls squealing or getting sick from drinking too much; no guys demanding he get off the phone and join the party. Why couldn’t he find these quiet rooms during our other conversations?

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “In the dorm. My roommate is at the clinic. He picked up some sort of disease from the girl he was dating.”

  “Ew.” I cringed.

  He laughed. “Yeah. She was a real skank.”

  “Skank? Is that proper English?” I laughed, too.

  “Yep. It’s in the dictionary. I’d show you if I actually owned a dictionary.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Rowan? I meant it when I said I miss you, and I just wanted to hear your voice. I just wanted to call and say hi. We can still do that, right?”

  It took several minutes and punching the gas to make the car go as fast as my heartbeat, but I finally answered, “Right. That would be nice.”

  “God, Rowan, I don’t know. I mean, what happened?”

  I swallowed against the burn in my throat.

  “You don’t have to answer. I mean, I know it was my fault. I really screwed things up.” He coughed then said, “But anyway. Tell me what’s new.”

  “Now that’s a loaded question.” I said a silent thank you to him for changing the topic. I wasn’t sure how I felt and wasn’t ready to find out.

  “How so?”

  I paused, listening for background noise and when I still didn’t hear any, I started talking like I wished I had so many times before when the words just would not come. “A lot has been going on. I’m not sure where to start.”

  “I have nothing but time. Let’s hear it.”

  It took a minute to sink in that I had his attention—all of his attention—and I really loved that feeling. “Well, first of all…” And for the next five minutes, I filled him in on Trina and the drugs. His mom hadn’t told him, which surprised me. Then I went on to the next topic without stopping for breath. “I was promoted to assistant manager at the shelter.”

  “That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. I’m so excited. And well, it’s perfect, because I just heard back from college.”

  “University? You got in, right?” His tone rose in excitement.

  “Um, no.” I frowned—our conversation was going so well. But he needed to know that my decision was made. “I got a full ride to Berkeley Mountain College.”

  His voice was soft when he asked, “Is that where you’re going to go?”

  It was my turn to be quiet. Finally I breathed out and said, “Yes. That’s where I’m going to go. I’m moving in with Jess. We’re going to get an apartment together.”

  “You’re moving out of the house?”

  “Yeah. It’s time. I mean, I can’t stay there forever. You and I both know that.”

  “Sure you can.” His voice was strained.

  “You know I can’t. You and I are no longer together. I’m eighteen and graduating soon. It’s time to move on. And after this stuff with the drugs…” I didn’t say that I couldn’t imagine staying there any longer. Not now. The time had come to move on.

  “When are you moving?”

  “In two weeks. The beginning of the month.”

  Our conversation went on another hour. At some point I pulled off the interstate and started down a winding two-lane road that meandered through the countryside. I filled him in on every detail of the past few months, everything he’d missed because he was away and too busy, everything I hadn’t told him because the connection between us had seemed lost.

  When we hung up there was no talk of our relationship and it was strange—there didn’t need to be. The shadow of our last conversation still hung over me like a black cloud. But somehow, I felt closer to him than I had in months. What that meant for us, I didn’t question. I just let the feelings warm my heart as I flipped the phone shut and drove back to the Anderson’s.

  I sat in the driveway for several minutes. Something was changing—maybe it was me, maybe it was just life. But it was time to help that change along so I got out of the car and fought for the courage to do what I needed to do—talk to Mrs. Anderson.

  It was no surprise that she was waiting for me, sitting perched on the edge of the couch, her back straight, her face a mixture of understanding and sadness. There had been enough time while I was driving back for Mike to call her and when I saw the look on her face, there was little doubt that he had.

  “Oh, Rowan. Come sit.” Her eyes were glassy as she patted the seat beside her. Delilah was in the chair, curled into herself. Levi walked over and lay down at my feet. I leaned over and rubbed his ear. “What’s going on?”

  “You’ve talked to Mike?”

  “Yes. But I’m still not sure what’s going on. Is everything okay? I thought you were happy here.”

  “I am.” I looked around the familiar living room, at the house that had become my home. “Moving in here was the best thing that ever happened to me. But it’s time. I’m ready to be on my own.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Mike?” She put a hand on my knee. “It doesn’t matter to me and Mr. Anderson that you’re no longer together. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need and Mike agreed.”

  “I know. I do know that.”

  “Is it Trina?”

  I closed my lids and let words swirl around in my head, trying to pick out the ones that were truthful but not hurtful. In the end, I didn’t have to.

  “I understand,” she said. “It was a difficult position to put you in. I thought I was helping, that I could help mend that relationship.” She squeezed my knee. “I think I was wrong.”

  A forced smile pulled at my lips. I didn’t want to talk about Trina. That ship had sailed.

  “Where are you going to go?” she asked. Delilah trotted over to me. I wrapped my arms around her solid body and pulled her into my lap. She licked my face with her pink tongue, and I laughed.

  “I’m going to get an apartment with Jess. She needs me. She, um, well…”

  “What’s wrong with Jess?” In true Mrs. Anderson fashion, she was immediately filled with concern.

  I rubbed Delilah’s chin, and she licked me again. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Pregnant? Jess?”

  “Yeah. Her dad doesn’t know yet, but she’s starting to show. And her, well, the father is gone. He’s probably not coming back.”

  “Oh my.” She put her hands to her cheeks.

  “So we’ll live together. Actually there is an apartment for rent above Miss J.’s place. It’ll be fine. It’ll be good actually.”

  “And what about college? Are you going to move out when it’s time to go to the university?”

  “Well, that’s another change. I’m going to go to Berkeley Mountain College.”

  “Berkeley College? Really? I didn’t even know that was a consideration.”

  “It is…has been.”

  She stared at me for several minutes, and then looked at the floor. “You’ll still be close? I’ll like that.”

  So this was what it was like when a mother was concerned for a child. I wasn’t Mrs. Anderson’s child, but she had such a kind heart, she treated me as one. As for my own mom, well, I’d never know what it felt like to have a mother’s care if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Anderson.

  “I’ll be close. And I’d like to keep in touch if that’s okay,” I said.

  I could tell she wanted to hug me, and finally, she couldn’t resist. I was pulled into her arms with such force that I was powerless to resist. But I wouldn’t have anyway. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight. To say I would miss her was an understatement.

  “Thank you,” I choked, tears swelling in my throat. “For everything.”

  “S
weet girl, you are so welcome.”

  “I love you.” The words surprised me but the fact that it was true didn’t.

  “I love you, too,” she said into my hair.

  SCOUT WATCHED me from the pillow, curled into a ball of fur. Delilah sprawled out at the foot of the bed looking bored and uninterested, though her large eyes were focused on my movements. Levi followed me as I walked around the room, going from the dresser to the closet and back again. Every few minutes he would lick my fingers and I would pet his head.

  This room, this house, had become my safe zone; Mike and his family my salvation. Where would I be if they hadn’t taken me in? Would I still be in that run-down home where the shadows of my childhood were a permanent fixture on the walls? Would I be in the hospital sharing a room with Trina, both of our wrists cut, bleeding, our souls dying?

  Emotions washed over me in a wave—gratitude, love, sadness, pain…gratitude. It came back to gratitude. It wasn’t the people who should have helped me through life—not my mom, Dad, sister. But it was someone else. And that was okay. Life didn’t have to look like a fairy tale for it to be beautiful.

  I ran a hand over the dresser where my things still rested—the ring and earrings Mike had given me, my hair brush, makeup Mrs. Anderson and Tabitha had taught me how to use. In the mirror that hung just behind it, I studied my reflection.

  My face, shoulders, and arms were still too thin. Maybe I always would be just a wisp of a girl. No, a wisp of a woman. But if that was me, wasn’t that okay?

  I tousled my hair and let it fall around my face and shoulders. The person looking back at me was beautiful. Tears welled in my eyes. Mike and his family had helped me see the beauty inside of me.

  And the strength.

  I could handle this. I was surrounded by people who supported me—Jess, Miss J., Mrs. Anderson, Gran, Janie, my animals. Life would turn out okay.

  Life may even turn out to be pretty darned good. My stomach was knotted with little flutters erupting in spurts when I thought about the changes coming my way.