by Mariah Dietz
She stops at the mouth of the driveway, looking between the cars that we have to creatively park in an attempt to fit them all so the neighbors don’t complain.
“This one’s me,” I say, placing a hand gently against her lower back and leading her toward my navy truck.
She looks reluctant or possibly scared.
“You can stay if you want,” I tell her again. “Or we can go do something else…”
Her eyes widen with implication and I quickly shake my head. “I mean, like go to the movies or a park or whatever…” I sound like a creeper. A class-A creeper trying to get her alone. Surprisingly, Leela doesn’t hesitate as she climbs into the passenger seat of my truck.
The engine rumbles to life and I allow it to warm up a few minutes while switching through the radio stations, restless and discouraged because my game is so far off when it comes to everything related to Leela.
She is silent, staring at me with her arms folded over her chest as though attempting to take up as little space as possible.
“Do you like me?” The question bursts through my lips, sounding more like an accusation than a question.
Leela pulls her head back, the exhaustion in her eyes is replaced with shock as she stares at me, her lips parted like she’s going to say something.
“Because it kind of seems like you do, and when you were drunk it seemed like it a little more. But I know that doesn’t mean much.”
“We come from completely different lifestyles,” she says, twisting in her seat with obvious discomfort.
I don’t know what that means or how to respond. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes,” she answers automatically, her eyes still round. “I mean, no … I don’t … I don’t know.”
“I think the fact that we’re different could help us understand each other.”
“Or … completely misunderstand each other.”
I study her eyes, memorizing the length of her lashes, the arch of her brow, the way she doesn’t show signs of fear, but how embarrassment makes her look away.
“There’s that chance, but we’re adults. We signed up for medical school knowing the thousands of hours we were going to have to dedicate to volunteering and sitting in a classroom, and we still chose it.”
“Wes…”
I don’t know that I’ve heard my name on her lips, and I’m grateful she doesn’t continue talking so I can hear it play again and again in the silos of my memories where I know it will be stored, left to haunt me tonight while I’m lying in bed, trying to sleep.
“How are we going to do this when neither of us has any free time? I mean, between school and work, I barely have time to eat and sleep. I hardly see my best friend, and she lives on my same street.” Leela smiles, but her eyes reveal sadness.
I shake my head gently. “If it means enough, we’ll make it happen. We’ll make it work. It might be ten minutes here, or a call while walking to the next class, or a date where we won’t even speak because we’re cramming for a test and learning Latin prefixes, but if it’s important enough, people just make it work. Going into this, we already know some of the hurdles we’re going to face. I feel like that’s an advantage.”
“Do we?”
“Well, no. Not all the hurdles. But isn’t that the point?”
“The point of what?” she asks.
“Life.”
Leela looks at me, confusion creasing her forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We know the main cards for this play.” I raise a finger to tick off the reasons. “We know we’re interested in each other. We know time is going to be a constraint. We know you can’t handle your alcohol.”
Leela laughs, dipping her face.
“And I make one hell of a breakfast burrito.”
“And you know the best way to eat fries,” she adds.
I nod, raising a finger. “Yes. That, too.”
“We come from very different worlds though, Wes.”
“You mean … you aren’t from Earth?” I try to act surprised as I stare at her, lifting her hair to reveal her ears as if inspecting her for clues.
She giggles and bats my hand away. “Unless you want to learn to drive with just one arm, you’d better stop!”
I laugh, and put my truck into reverse. Things between us don’t feel settled, not even remotely and while I don’t like knowing there’s a wide gap for interpretation, I feel like we’ve overcome our first obstacle by simply acknowledging that there’s something between us.
“So, where do you go running?”
I’m disappointed she wants to change the subject. I glance at her, trying to read if she’s embarrassed, or uncomfortable, or genuinely curious. She’s looking at me, her eyes back to being rimmed with exhaustion and hints of discomfort from the hangover.
“On campus,” I tell her. “They have a giant track.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” she admits with a smile.
“If you’re ever interested in going, I’ll run with you.”
“Lap me, you mean?”
I laugh and shake my head. I’d be willing to walk if she were interested in going.
I consider a safe topic to discuss that will hopefully segue into additional ones, because once Leela and I start talking it feels like it gets easier, but initiating conversation rarely feels easy.
“How do you know Jamal?” Her question surprises me.
Clearing my throat, I glance at her again. “Through my old roommate. He played football with him. What about you?”
“I tutor him.”
“I bet he pays a lot of attention to the textbooks with you there.” I look at her to ensure she catches my sarcastic tone.
Leela laughs, her cheeks growing red. “He’s starting to.”
“He’s one hell of an athlete.” I pull up to the house where the football team resides, and look up and down the cleared streets. “Where did you park?” I ask her.
Leela leans forward, her head whipping from right to left. “I was right over there by that shrub.” She reaches for the door handle and jumps out. Moving to the now empty space, she spins around.
A neighbor across the street is taking his trash out to the curb so I roll down my window. “Hey! Did you happen to see any cars out here this morning?”
The guy is wearing a suit and deep frown that reveals he doesn’t enjoy being neighbors with a house filled with college students, and I can’t entirely blame him. When I’m forty, I won’t want to be neighbors to people like me or my friends, either.
“They came and towed everyone. This isn’t a damn parking lot for you kids.”
“With all due respect, this is a public street, and the laws of the county say we can park here.” I know this well because I went to high school with the daughter of the sheriff for our county, and she knew the parking laws for each surrounding county to ensure we wouldn’t face this particular problem.
“Take that up with the court. They had no problem coming out here and towing all the pieces of junk that were littering the streets and blocking the mailboxes and fire hydrants.”
I glance at his driveway, checking out his house and car. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to assess what this clown is worth to see why he’s acting like such a mega dick. His car is a BMW, but it’s at least eight years old, and his house isn’t professionally landscaped, and looking closer at his suit I can tell it wasn’t tailored to fit him. He’s likely checking out my truck and knows it’s worth twice his car’s value and is feeling inferior over the fact. “One day, one of your neighbors will be the next NFL star. You should learn to be a little nicer.”
“I don’t kiss people’s asses because they’re celebrities.”
“Maybe you should run for government or city council,” I tell him.
Though he drops his head, I can hear him chuckling. He thinks I’m childish and ignorant about the world. What he doesn’t realize is that I know it’s ridiculous that athletes make millions while those who have bee
n teaching me for years—those forming the mindsets and brains of this country don’t make a fraction of a professional athlete’s salary. However, I also know from having traveled to dozens of countries around the world that we have a choice and an option to choose our careers and can walk to and from them safely. That makes us far richer than many know. I don’t care if he thinks I’m an entitled rich kid. That’s his business, and I don’t owe it to him to defend myself.
Leela digs into her purse and pulls out her phone.
“Come on,” I tell her, pulling forward so I’m beside her. “We can go to the impound lot.”
“I don’t have that kind of money on me.”
I shrug. “I’ll cover you. No problem.”
She shakes her head swiftly. “I can’t have you do that. I just need to get home. I’ll call my dad.”
“Why? I’ll take you. It’s no problem.”
“I can’t ask you to drive me all the way home. It will be two hours for you round trip.”
“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering. Come on.”
She shakes her head again, her gaze fixed on the interior of my truck.
“It’s not a problem. Your dad will have to drive two hours to come get you and take you back, and trust me, if this is your first time suffering a hangover, the last thing you’ll want to endure is a parent asking a million questions.”
I watch the cogs of her mind turn, and while I want to ask her why this requires so much thought, I refrain from it, waiting for her to make the decision.
Leela sighs heavily. “You’re going to see exactly how different our worlds are.”
I want to ask what that means, but the walls I’d seen Leela construct last night go up as she shuts the passenger door. She is silent except for the occasional direction, and I don’t try to get her to talk, hoping her hangover is the biggest contributing factor.
When we begin to reach stretches of farmland, she becomes more rigid. “You want to get in the right lane.”
We’re fifteen miles out from the nearest town, in a more desolate area that reflects the desert more clearly with the lack of lawns and commercial stores.
“Here,” she says, pointing a finger to a narrow side street.
I take the turn into the neighborhood. The homes are small, but well taken care of.
“Is this what you were expecting?” she asks, her words sounding like a threat.
I look over to her, uncertain of why she sounds so angry. “You think I’m going to like you less because of your neighborhood?”
“Let’s call apples apples. This is a trailer park, Wes. I live in a trailer park.”
“Why would I care where you live?”
“You’re kidding, right?” She stares at me like I’m stupid. “What would your mother’s reaction be to driving here for Sunday brunch?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
She sighs, but then smiles at me. It’s tight and clearly contrived. “I really appreciate you helping me out last night. You’re a great guy, and driving me home was above and beyond what you should have done. You’re amazing, and smart, and kind, but this is my reality.”
“I don’t understand. You’re telling me this like it draws a separation between us.”
“It does.”
“To whom?”
“Our relationship would always be imbalanced.”
“Because of money?”
“Wes, if we had been in reverse roles last night, I wouldn’t have been able to do that for you. I wouldn’t have been able to buy you all that food or offer to get your car out of impound. When you want to go on vacation or to a fancy restaurant, I won’t be able to go. And this doesn’t even touch on what will happen when you want to take a trip or go to a fancy restaurant or holidays.”
My head spins with thoughts her words evoke. “You’re already thinking of how our holidays will be spent? Clearly, you like me.”
Her green eyes round, and her freckles dim from the stain coloring her cheeks. “I…”
“You like me,” I tell her. “And I like you. Money isn’t an issue. Time is our issue, and we’ll figure it out.”
I glance at the clock on my dash. “Tons of water and a couple of aspirin will do wonders. And if you need a ride to school or work or wherever, let me know.”
Leela stares at me, and then gathers her hair before releasing her seat belt and sitting forward. “Thanks for everything,” she says, and then she hops down from my truck and walks to her front door where she turns and waves one final time before disappearing.
14
Leela
No one is surprised to see me when I step through the front door, making it nearly eerie. I had texted my parents and sister last night, and told them a story about getting food poisoning and staying with a friend from school. They had no reason to question me because I don’t lie to my family. Ever. At least not until now. I realize I’m twenty-four and old enough to be staying out overnight with a guy and drinking, but it’s completely out of character for me.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks from where she’s washing a sink full of dishes. She and I are the only two in the family with red hair. Hers is a brighter hue, nearly orange, whereas mine is so dark it almost looks brown in certain lights.
I sag my shoulders and frown, playing up how lousy I feel and try to look sick with the flu rather than over the argument I tried to pick with Wes. “I still feel terrible,” I tell her.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and rubs in a circular motion—a gesture she’s done since I was young on occasions when I’m not feeling well or had a rough day. Tears burn my eyes as I pull away from her. Emotions are sparking like fireworks, activating more and more. Though Wes’s words sound assuring, he’ll recognize the truth of the matter soon enough. Realize that our worlds are separated by far more than just finances—which is a large enough burden. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Do you want something to drink? Some pop?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. I just need to sleep a little before work.”
Mom nods, her lips turned down with a compassionate frown that triggers more guilt for lying to her.
My room of course isn’t empty. Luna is perched on our shared queen bed, watching me. I can feel her stare as I kick off my shoes. Ignoring her, I move to the end of the bed and lie down.
“Where’s your Jeep?”
My heart feels like it hiccups in my chest. I have no idea how I’m going to get it back. I don’t know what the cost is, but I know I can’t afford it.
She slides something cool and smooth under my arm that’s shielding my face.
“Stop, Luna.” But my eyes are already open, staring at a picture on her phone, one of Wes and me in his truck. I sit up and face her with a scowl. “This is none of your business, Luna. Leave it alone.”
“I didn’t take this picture! Derrick did.”
Internally I groan, but don’t show Luna that I’m freaking out. Instead, I grit my teeth and shake my head. “It’s none of his business either.”
“Maybe you should remind him of that, because he’s essentially put a price on your boyfriend’s head.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I work to sound calm and unaffected, but I’m freaking out. My heart pounding so loud it’s difficult to hear her scoff.
“You guys dated for five years, Leela. He’s made it clear he’s not over you.”
“He’s over me,” I tell her. “This is a control issue. Plain and simple.”
“You thought he was good enough before you left for your big fancy college.”
“It has nothing to do with me going to college, and you know that!”
“You were looking for an excuse to break up with him.”
I stare at her so long and hard my eyes grow dry. “Luna, he sells drugs.”
“Most of our neighborhood sells drugs. Want to know why? Because most people take drugs. Why are you acting like this world—our world—is so beneath you?”
My chin
whips up, anger and fear connecting in my veins. I grab her arms and shake my head vigorously. “That’s an excuse,” I tell her. “You do not want to idolize him. By selling drugs and getting in these circles, Troy and Derrick are throwing their lives away. They will never make it out of this neighborhood.”
Defiance rounds her eyes as she shakes off my grip. “Not everyone has the luxury of going to college and med school.”
I shake my head, refusing to reply. Of all people, she should certainly know that my journey to med school hasn’t been easy. “We have a way out. I’m going to get us out of here. You stay away from them. Just keep your nose down and clean, and we’ll be out of here in a couple of years.”
“Who says I want out?”
“You’re seventeen! You don’t know what you want!”
She glares at me. “I don’t hate this place. You do.”
“Luna, there’s an entire world outside of this town. Places you and I have never seen! Why would you even consider tethering yourself to a single place when you have so much potential?”
Her dry laugh fills the air. “Not everyone gets to ride on the magical Leela express train that transports them to a rich part of town every day, and receives opportunities to be seen as something more than gold-digging, trailer trash.”
She has no idea. No clue how hard I’ve had to work. How much of my childhood I exchanged in order to put my education first. How often I feel out of place and not good enough. “That’s right, Luna. Because it’s everyone’s fault but yours that you sent naked pictures to your stupid boyfriend.”
Her eyes narrow with an anger and aggression she has reserved for any mention of this subject. “You want to see how fast this rich bastard turns on you? See how replaceable you are?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just some guy I go to school with.”
“Some guy you go to school with doesn’t drive you home. Some guy isn’t a reason for you to lie to Mom and Dad.”
“I wasn’t lying. I got sick and couldn’t drive home.”
“Since when is drinking too much considered having food poisoning? And since when did you start drinking? Because it seems like this guy is far more than some guy if he’s getting you to drink with him.”