Aspen

by Rebekah Crane

  “No thanks.”

  He tosses it on the ground and rubs it out with his shoe. “Let’s get you guys a drink.”

  The inside of Tom’s house is a stark contrast to what it looks like from the outside. Music blares; people stand around his kitchen, drinking and talking too loudly. Someone yells Suzy’s name the second we’re in the door and she gives me a hug before disappearing into another room.

  The inside of Tom’s fridge is lined with condiments, beer and shots. He hands me a silver beer can.

  “Happy New Year, beautiful.” Tom pops the top of my beer, and it foams, almost dripping down the side. “Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile?” He moves to help me out of my jacket.

  “That’s okay.” I step back. “In case of a quick getaway,” I add.

  Tom taps his temple. “Good thinking.”

  I glance around the party, as more people walk in the back door.

  “You look hot tonight.”

  “Did you just call me hot?” I ask.

  “Maybe.” Tom puts his arm around me.

  I peel it away and say, “I’m gonna go find Suzy.”

  “Find me at midnight,” he hollers after me.

  People are scattered everywhere in the house, laughing and talking loudly over the music. I look for Suzy’s shirt in the crowd and see she’s not the only one wearing tie-dye. There are at least three other people. I shake my head and chug the rest of my beer, setting the empty down on a table. Through the windows, I can see a beat-up old teeter-totter in Tom’s backyard. I make a quick exit out the back door.

  In the cold, I push the air out of my lungs. I sit down on the teeter-totter and gaze up at the stars. The cold air makes everything seem clearer and brighter. The moon hangs in the sky, half full, lighting the black to grey. Almost like a light shining down on everything. It gives the trees a shadow even in the darkness.

  “These things usually work better with two people.” Ben sits down on the other end of the teeter-totter, lifting me into the air.

  “I was actually saving that for Tom. He just needed to gel his hair first.”

  Ben laughs and pushes off the ground. I come down, my knees pulling up toward my stomach. We ride back and forth like this for a while, and then he says, “I’m sorry again about Christmas.”

  “Don’t be. Are you going to do it again tonight?”

  “I’m off the hard stuff for a while.”

  “Bummer. How am I supposed to get you in my bed again?”

  Ben floats back down to the ground as I rise in the air. He’s smiling.

  “I like long walks on the beach and a band called Beta Particle, but you’ve probably never heard of them.”

  “Never. They must be new.”

  “It was Katelyn’s birthday,” he says, practically into his shirt. “Her mom made us go to her grave. I hate cemeteries.”

  “I think that’s a good thing. You’re not supposed to want to be there.”

  “Right,” Ben says, a smile returning to his face. “Wanna play a game?”

  “That’s my line.” I push myself high into the air as Ben floats down.

  “I ask you a question and you answer with the first thing that pops into your head.”

  “This isn’t a game. It’s a trick.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bring it on.”

  “Okay.” Ben rubs his hands together. “Favorite season?” he asks.

  “Spring.”

  “Favorite fruit?”

  “Raspberries.”

  “Favorite flower?”

  “Daisies.”

  “Favorite song?”

  “Anything by the Dead.”

  “That’s cheating but I’ll let it go.” Ben grins. “Run, bike or swim?”

  “Swim.”

  “Outside or inside?”

  “Outside.”

  “Warm or cold?”

  “Warm.”

  “Windows or air-conditioning?”

  “Windows.”

  “Best thing you did today?”

  “This.” I smile and push off the ground.

  “The teeter-totter or me?”

  “Technically, I didn’t do you today.”

  Ben wags his finger. “There’s still time. Tom will be disappointed, though.”

  I laugh as Ben lands on the ground. He stares down at the teeter-totter, his once relaxed face turning perplexed. “Don’t leave me hanging here,” I say, and tap on the wood.

  “I could have answered all of those questions for you.”

  “I’m that predictable?”

  “I know you that well,” Ben says. He gets off the teeter-totter, slowly setting me on the ground. He paces back and forth, hands stuffed in his pockets. I wipe my pants as I stand, checking behind me to see if I have any residual dirt on my butt.

  A moment later, Ben is standing in front of me, almost nose to nose. Instinct makes me want to take a step back, my stomach flying to my throat, but I manage to stay still.

  “I’m not supposed to be happy with you.” Ben’s eyes are serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen them. My heart pounds in my ears.

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes me forget.”

  “If you ask me, forgetting isn’t so bad.”

  Ben runs his hands through his hair, his brow knitted tight. So tight it might stay that way. He holds my shoulders, like he’s worried I might run away. I suck in a breath when he presses his forehead to mine.

  “I can’t make the past go away,” he whispers.

  “Even though it’s already done.”

  He pulls back. My forehead goes cold. “But maybe it’s not about making it go away. Maybe it’s about moving on,” he says.

  Ben’s hands are shaking. He leans in, inches from my face. I can practically feel lips on mine.

  “You can’t leave me, Aspen,” he whispers.

  And then Ben’s lips really are on mine. They’re warm and soft, and for just a moment, I feel as though I’ve fallen out of my body. That I’m floating somewhere inches above the ground.

  “I need you,” he says in my ear.

  “Like air.” I whisper back. Ben nods. And we both breathe.

  “Look at what we have here.” Olivia’s voice is like cold water splitting pavement. Ben and I separate. She stands with Claire, arms crossed over her chests. Olivia clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “The king and the queen.”

  “Puta,” Claire spits at me.

  I stumble over the words in my head, but I can’t get anything out. Everything turns red . . . then blue . . . then red.

  A second passes, then two. Tom’s back door flies open and a sea of people come streaming out.

  “The cops!” Suzy yells as she takes off down the driveway. People scatter in different directions. Olivia and Claire dash into the neighbor’s yard. There’s yelling and running and beer cans everywhere. It’s a quick getaway. But somehow in the chaos, Ben manages to grab my hand.

  CHAPTER 22

  My house is dark from the outside. Ben and I haven’t said anything. I’m not sure I want to.

  He stops on my front porch. I can’t read the expression on his face.

  “What did Claire say in Spanish?” I ask.

  Ben shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought you said your mom was from Mexico.” I nudge him in the shoulder.

  “Yeah and she moved here when she was like two. She’s more American than Ninny. The jury is still out on where she actually came from.”

  I laugh too loudly and then look around like the cops might be following us.

  “That was . . . ” Ben trails off, his eyes searching around, looking anywhere but at my face.

  “Nice,” I say.

  He exhales. “It was?”

  “You don’t think so?” I step back.

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t think it was nice?” I take another step.

  “No,” Ben yells and grabs my arms, yanking
me back to him. Before I can take a breath, his lips are on mine. My knees give out a little, but Ben holds me steady. When he pulls back, he says, “That was more than nice.”

  I smile, my lips warm again.

  In my house, we both stand at the end of the bed. It looks different now. Bigger or smaller or sexier. I become acutely aware that there’s a box of condoms in my drawer. Neither of us moves.

  “Ninny is at Toaster’s,” I say, flatly.

  “Maybe I should go.” Ben points to the door.

  “Don’t.” I grab Ben’s hand. When I crawl back on the bed, he takes off his shoes. I pull down the sheets. We don’t say a word as we nestle down in the bed. I rest my cheek on Ben’s chest and listen to his heartbeat.

  “I sleep better when you’re next to me,” I say, and yawn.

  “Me, too,” Ben says. “Happy New Year, Aspen”

  “I hope so,” I say.

  I don’t wake up until there’s sunshine spilling through my window. I pick my head up and feel my cheek. The pillow crease has left an impression. My head swims with grogginess. I get lost for a moment, after so many hours of sleep.

  When I feel Ben’s chest rising and falling under my head, it all comes back to me. The party, the cops, the kiss. The fact that I’m pretty sure Claire called me a not-so-nice name in Spanish. I turn to glance up at Ben, resting my chin on his shoulder.

  His lips are parted slightly as he exhales. I reach up and almost touch them. But he looks so peaceful. I can’t disturb that.

  When he finally does wakes up, I’m sitting at my desk, fully changed out of my clothes from the night before, teeth brushed.

  “I want to do something with you,” I say before he can even speak.

  “Okay.” Ben rubs his eyes and stretches his arms over his head in a yawn.

  I ride us over to Shakedown Street on my bike. The lights are off inside and a “closed” sign hangs on the door. The shop’s shut for New Year’s Day. I use my set of keys to unlock the place. Ben grabs my hand as I turn the handle to let us in.

  “Are you sure this is okay?”

  I grab Ben’s hand and yank him into the store. I flip on just a few lights and turn on the radio. Jam band music fills the shop. I bob my head to the beat as I pull food out of the fridge. Ben walks over to my mural and examines it.

  “You did this?” He runs his finger over the picture painted on the wall. When I nod, he says, “You’re really talented, Aspen.”

  “You don’t have to flatter me. We’ve already made out.” I roll my eyes, but can’t stop my cheeks from heating. Ben laughs.

  When I’m done cutting and mixing my concoction, I pour us two heaping glasses full of shakes.

  “Here.” I set one on the counter.

  “What is it?”

  “I call it the John Lennon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s one of a kind.”

  Ben takes a sip, licking his lips clean. “Oh, my God, that’s good. Why isn’t it on the menu?”

  I smile and take a sip of my own. “Because I don’t like sharing. I’ve never actually made it for anyone but myself before.”

  “Does this mean I’m special?”

  “Maybe.”

  He sets his glass down and comes to stand in front of me. I search his face for what’s different today and stop on his eyes. They seem lighter, like he’s carrying less weight. Like the new year really is new.

  And then his lips press to mine for the first time today. They’re cold and sweet. I taste the flavor of the vanilla shake on his tongue. Ben leans into me further, pressing my back against the counter, pinning me in place. I wouldn’t want to move even if I could.

  The moment breaks apart when Ben’s phone beeps. A text message. My heart jumps into my throat; the sound scares me. I pull back quickly. My hands shake as I grip the counter.

  A glass moves from one of the shelves.

  Ben sees the surprise on my face. I feel the blood drain from my cheeks clear down to my toes.

  “Sorry.” He pulls his phone from his pocket.

  Katelyn holds the glass high in the air.

  “Shit. It’s my dad,” Ben says.

  “Don’t do it,” I say to Katelyn. I use the counter to brace myself, my knees wavering.

  “Don’t do what?” Ben stares at the screen, typing.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  Katelyn lets go. I close my eyes, but hear the glass shatter on the ground. Like every sliver and every shard is a crack of thunder in my ears.

  I grab my head.

  “Aspen, what is it?” Ben cups my cheeks with his hands. “Look at me.”

  I can’t open my eyes. I can’t look at all the tiny pieces of glass on the ground, like razor sharp rain.

  “I think I’m getting a headache.” I step back from Ben and force my eyes open. There’s no mess. No Katelyn. “I’ll take you home.”

  “A headache.” Ben doesn’t sound convinced. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  We clean up, returning everything to its proper place so no one will know Ben and I were even here. I turn off the lights and lock up, staring for a moment at the counter where Ben and I just kissed.

  I don’t go home after I drop him off. I make a quick stop at Walgreens, and then ride across town to the one place I never thought I’d go. Nerves make me peddle faster, but fast and banana-seat bike don’t really go together.

  I search row after row of cement headstones, looking for Katelyn’s name. Katelyn Grace Ryan. It takes three hours of searching through the mashed-down grass at the cemetery to find it. When I do, I’m struck still, my breath tight in my throat. A dozen red roses sit wilting on the ground. I shake out my numb hands at my side.

  Standing in front of her name, I stare at the numbers. They’re so close together. Seventeen years.

  “Here.” I toss a pack of No. 2 pencils at the stone. “Better late than never.” And then I wait. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. But I wait. One lone white cloud passes overhead. “I’m pretty sure no one is satisfied with the number on their gravestone.” I finally say. “No matter what you have, it never feels long enough.”

  And as I ride away, I can’t help remembering what I said to Ben about cemeteries. How no one wants to be here, yet this is where we end up. No matter how hard we fight against it.

  My house is dark when I ride up the driveway on my bike. Parking in the garage, I see that Ninny’s van is gone. When I get inside, a note sits on the counter.

  Gone to Salvador’s. Don’t wait up. Happy New Year, baby.

  The kitchen is a mess. Ninny’s bowl of mushy half-eaten cereal sits on the counter; the coffee pot is still on, filling the house with the smell of burnt coffee. I groan and clean the bowl, slamming it down too hard on the counter. When I dump the sludge of coffee down the sink, I bite the inside of my lip, tears threatening to pour down my face. I’m so tired of cleaning up after Ninny. For once, I’d like her to act like a grown-up and me like a child.

  I light incense to get rid of the Starbucks smell and microwave leftover spaghetti for dinner. As I sit eating, the only sound in my house is my chewing.

  I sat at this same table while Ninny was in Taos, waiting for her to come home. I learned to hate the sound of silence. To hate anticipating a person walking in the back door, only to be horribly disappointed when they don’t.

  I drop my fork into the container of spaghetti and pinch my ears closed, grinding my teeth together. Nothing moves but the shadows on the wall.

  When my heart beats like it might explode, I rinse my dirty dish in the sink, running the water just to hear something else. Then I jumping on my bike and ride over to Ben’s. I can’t be alone tonight.

  His house is lit up. The gentle blue hue of a TV shines out into the street. I creep around until I find Ben’s bedroom. I tap on the window. When nothing happens, I knock harder. The thin glass vibrates like it might shatter at any second. A light flicks on in the room.

  �
��Shit.” I duck into the bushes. A few seconds later, I hear someone outside walking towards me. I try to be as quiet as possible.

  “Aspen?” Ben finds me crouched close to the ground. “What are you doing?”

  “Hiding?”

  “Why are you hiding?”

  “Can I blame your dad’s wooden leg?”

  “You know he really doesn’t have a wooden leg, right?”

  I crawl out from the bushes and dust my pants off. “Ninny’s at Toaster’s again.” Ben cocks an eyebrow at me. “And I was thinking maybe I could stay here.”

  “So you want to sleep with me.”

  “You make it sound like I want to study with you.”

  “Do you?” Ben gets a shit-eating grin on his face, and I swat him in the arm. “I’ll sneak you in the back,” he says.

  The tension in my shoulders releases as I walk back into Ben’s room. I take off my shoes and climb in, hugging one of Ben’s pillows to my chest. Ben watches me before getting in behind me and cupping his body around mine. He kisses my ear.

  “I can’t reach your eyelids, or I’d kiss those.” And then he whispers good night.

  Before I can say it back, I’m asleep.

  I try to run down the street, but everything is moving in slow motion. At least it feels that way. I’m locked in some sort of quicksand that’s holding my feet to the ground. But I need to move. It’s coming. I can feel it behind me.

  I take another step and fall, catching my heavy body. The cement is cold on my hands.

  I need to get away from here. Clawing at the ground, I pull myself along the cement. My nails dig in and rip from my fingers.

  When my arms collapse under me, someone takes hold of my legs. She’s got me; she’s dragging me across the road, the weight of her body like a ball and chain meant to drown me in a sea of blood. I kick and punch and scream at the top of my lungs, but her hold is strong. And I know she won’t let go. She’ll never let go.

  I sit up in bed, wheezing, a scream caught in my throat. I choke with every painful breath. My head is covered in sweat.

  “What is it?” Ben sits up, brushing my hair out of my face. “Aspen, what’s wrong?” His voice is panicked. Even in the darkness, I see fear in his eyes.