by Merry Brown
I reluctantly woke her up when Jarrod came by to tell me it was time to break down camp and pack up the bus. I helped her roll-up her sleeping bag and we parted ways once we were back to camp. I didn’t see her again until everyone gathered around the fire pit for dinner and stories. The topic was the most embarrassing/craziest thing that had happened to you in nature.
Various encounters with snakes were mentioned, one person was chased by a bear, and some guy was sprayed by a skunk. I had a snake story to tell, but didn’t feel like sharing.
We cleaned up camp after being given a lecture about leaving places better than we found them.
I sat with Jarrod and Kyle on the crowded bus ride back.
Lizzy and her friends sat a few rows behind us. I didn’t think I’d get to spend this bus ride home with her – I’d had more of her time than I expected… more than I probably deserved.
Feeling strangely grateful, I left my obsessive thoughts of Lizzy and concentrated on talking to my former tent mates.
I learned Kyle played drums and Jarrod was a sports junkie. I had a lot in common with them both.
They were dragged to this new school from West High. Like me, they were bitter at first, but they thought Panama West wasn’t so bad after all.
Back to the school parking lot around 11 p.m., some parents were waiting for their kids while the rest of us found our cars.
Lizzy was saying goodbye to her new friends, hugging Becki and heading to her car when I intercepted her.
“Great trip,” she said as I approached her, my heart racing.
“Definitely. I’m already looking forward to the next one.”
“Me too. It was great spending time with you, Will.”
Could I just let her go? What if I asked her out? What would she say? But what about my rules?
“Maybe we could get together sometime and hang out,” I blurted out. I just couldn’t help myself.
“Sure,” she beamed at me, encouragingly. “Goodbye Will, see you Monday.”
“Until then,” I said with a sudden pang when I thought of parting company. Until then. . . .
Chapter Seven: Things in Common
How was I supposed to wait until Monday to see her again? I had to call Lizzy.
She picked up on the first ring. I realized this was the first time I’d talked to her on the phone.
“Good morning William,” she said with honey in her voice. Even though the valley was thick with fog this Sunday morning, everything looked clear to me.
“Good morning Elizabeth. How’d you sleep last night?”
“I had a great time camping but nothing beats being in your own bed. I slept long and hard. In fact, I just woke up about half an hour ago!”
“You must’ve been wiped, it’s almost noon.”
“Well, I stayed up real late Friday, you know, had a great time, but it really takes it out of me.”
“You up for doing something tonight?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a bit too long. Had I misunderstood what passed between us this weekend?
“You see,” she started, “I usually spend time with my family Sundays, but I think I can get away for a little while, maybe around 7 o’clock?”
“7 sounds great. Let’s go to the coffee shop. Should I pick you up?” It struck me I had no idea where she lived.
“No, I live far out. I’ll just meet you there.”
Seven couldn’t arrive soon enough. I tried to concentrate on my homework, played guitar a bit, but I was restless. I finally gave up and went downstairs to grab a snack and watch the football game on the flat screen. I thought no one else was home.
I rounded the corner and saw him sitting there, reading a book with the news on in the background. I almost turned right around but decided I didn’t feel like being run off in my own home.
“You mind if I switch to the game?” I asked flatly.
He didn’t even look up at me, but gave a short nod.
I did my best to ignore him and veg out, watching the game and eating the nachos I just made. About a half hour later I could feel him staring at me.
“Big date tonight?” He asked with a wicked grin.
I knew he was just trying to mess with me, per usual. I had loads of practice trying to keep my temper in check around him. He seemed to only talk to me when he wanted to provoke some illicit reaction. But today I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“None of your damn business,” I said out of the side of my mouth, not moving my head to look at him.
He chuckled, obviously amused and said, “That’s my boy!”
I sat in the plush over-sized couch, stiff, for a little while longer, but I couldn’t take being in his presence anymore. Who cares about watching the game on the big screen. I should have stayed in my room.
As I got off the couch with my things, I heard him laugh. What a jerk!
I stayed in my room after that, only going down to the kitchen for dinner. I should get a refrigerator in my room, then I could avoid him almost completely.
I timed it perfectly, getting to the coffee shop right at seven, but Lizzy was already there. She was wearing jeans and a plain green sweatshirt, reading a book. She looked up with an inviting smile and waved me over.
I sat across from her and knew, knew with everything in me that this is where I belonged. Sitting here, with her. I belonged with her, and I knew she belonged with me.
As I looked at her, I could see the reality of our connection sinking into her. Lizzy, who was perpetually at home wherever she was, who was never shy, intimidated, or unsure of herself was actually fidgeting in her seat. She looked uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, felt more at ease than ever before.
I broke the silence first. “Does your family mind you’re out with me tonight?”
“No, though they were perplexed. Truthfully, I’ve never spent time alone with a guy before, and I’ve never missed a Sunday night outing with them.”
Honest and direct, that was Lizzy.
“I’m glad you came out with me tonight. I…” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell her I was in danger of falling head over heels in love with her. I wanted to tell her how utterly stunning she is. I wanted to reach out and take her hand, to pull her close and kiss her. I wanted to confess this all, but something inside told me this was not the time, or the place. I would wait. I could wait, for her.
She let the silence fade and spoke. “I’m glad to be here, with you, too. By the way, this place is great! How come I’ve never heard of it before?”
The Daily Grind was awesome. It was much more than a place to get coffee; it was an old fashioned coffee house. In my opinion, it was the best-kept secret in town.
In a once-abandoned turn-of-the-century house out by Cal State Bakersfield, the owners – Tina and Jim – restored the property and turned it into the coolest place to hang out.
There was live music most nights, open mic night every Friday and poetry slams on Saturdays. In the winter the two fireplaces were always burning which, combined with the smell of the freshly ground coffee beans, called to me, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Sure it’s a business, but it was my home away from home. Exactly the feel the owners were going for.
The entire downstairs had been gutted so that it was one large open space with ten-foot ceilings. It looked like they got the chairs, couches, and tables from Good Will or the end of someone’s driveway. None of the furniture matched, which gave the place a colorful and refreshing look – miles away from the pretentious feel of my real home. Artists’ paintings from all over town hung on the walls, along with several elaborate murals painted on parts of the walls, floors, and even the ceiling.
The lights were usually low, but I wouldn’t call the place dark. My favorite place to sit was by the group of velvet chairs next to the gilded fireplace.
I suddenly thought this would all go better with caffeine and a treat. “Can I get you something?”
“Sure. I’ll have a
tall non-fat latté, de-caf, and a blueberry muffin.”
I placed her order and got a mocha frappuccino with a giant cookie.
Halfway through her muffin she looked up at me and said, “So tell me about yourself.”
Such an open-ended question. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you want to tell me,” she said leaning on the arm of the couch, her chin cupped in her hands.
“Well, I play guitar, as you know. I started playing when I was about 8. I spend a lot of time playing and trying to write music. Sometimes the words and music flow. Sometimes it feels like I’m pulling teeth and still nothing comes out.”
“How about now? Are you working on anything right now?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
“Yeah, but it’s not really coming together.”
“I’d like to hear it sometime.”
“I’d like that too.”
“You heard me say in computer that I play guitar?”
I nodded.
“I’ve been playing for a while, too, and enjoy singing.”
“Let’s definitely get together and play.”
She nodded back.
“Now tell me something I don’t already know about you,” she said leaning back in her chair, nibbling on what was left of her muffin.
I wanted to keep the conversation lighthearted, but that would be difficult because my world was so full of darkness, and cruelty.
“You already know my best friends, that I went to BHS, I don’t play sports at school, I love music… oh, do you know I work at Stockdale Music?”
“No I didn’t. Do you like it?”
“It’s okay. Actually it’s a great job for a high school student. It’s not demanding, and I get to help people pick out musical equipment and talk about music, of all kinds, at work. I work just about every day after school and some Saturdays. They’re closed on Sunday.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of hours.”
“I wish I had more,” I mumbled.
“Why?” Her stared peered into my soul, trying to shake the truth right out of me.
“Let’s just say I prefer to stay away from home as much as possible,” I said with a forced smile, but she wasn’t fooled. She saw the pain on my face.
“I’m sorry Will. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s not your fault. You know who my father is, right? He isn’t as awful as people say he is. He’s much worse.” We were both quiet. She didn’t have any words of wisdom to offer as most people did when he came up. She just sat there, waiting for me to continue, if I wanted to.
I wanted to because I wanted her to know me. The real me.
“Do you know my story, about my family?”
“I heard about the terrible accident,” she said in a whisper, real sadness in her voice.
“On that day I lost my sister and mother… and my father too. My brother followed soon after. Only my mother, sister and brother are actually dead, but I’m telling you the truth – I know my father died that day. The man I loved and worshipped never made it out of the car.”
Though Lizzy was kind, she was kind to all. I very much expected her to stand up for my father and tell me he couldn’t be entirely bad, that he had lost immeasurably on that day too.
Instead, she reached out and took my hand, lightly stroking it. I felt something wet on my hand. I looked up to see her silent tears, running down her face as if her heart was breaking.
See what happens when I try to do the impossible; talk about my life and keep it relaxed?
I had enough pain for the two of us. I didn’t want her to be miserable on my account. I got up and sat next to her on the love seat. I reached over to her chin, lifting it to meet my eyes.
“Please don’t be sad for me.”
She smiled as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks.
“You are so… so beautiful, Will, and it’s painful to me that you’ve been so mistreated in this world. Mistreated in so many ways. First with the loss of your family and the isolation that comes along with those who experience an immense tragedy. Then to be further isolated from the people at school because of your family’s wealth and connections. You, it seems, should be bitter, twisted, and ugly inside. But you’re not. You’ve learned to survive, more than survive. You remain optimistic and, amazingly, despite the overwhelming odds, full of grace. You are lovely.”
What could I say to this?
“Thank you,” I said from my soul.
We were lost in conversation and unaware of the time until the barista came over to tell us they were closing. The night had passed too quickly.
“I’m glad you met me tonight,” I said, my face feeling hot. To my great satisfaction she blushed too. I walked her to her car and watched as she drove away.
As I lay in bed my mind rambled through my unexpected break.
I could see my life before Lizzy. I’d been living in a haze, as if the fog or smog – some days both - that envelops this town was in my head. I think I knew something was off, that living my own self-absorbed existence was bad.
But more than that, not healthy. How could I truly be happy if I was always wrapped up in my own problems? Others have it easy – they don’t have my past or father to deal with. No one understands what it’s like to lose your family in one night. No one has it like me.
I wanted to believe that, but I knew better. All of us are in the same boat. Every other teenager was just like me. We all have problems. All of us, except for her.
Chalk it up to the “teenage condition” I’ve always heard about? We were sure to grow out of our selfish tendencies, right?
Counter examples paraded through my mind; my father, Mr. Hinkle who enjoyed the Junior girls too much, just about every single one of my father’s business associates. I personally knew a lot of evil, selfish people. But I knew of even more through history: Stalin, Hitler, Bin Laden. The list goes on and on through time until the beginning….
And on the side of good? Not many fine examples on the news or in my school. Some of the people I volunteer with seem genuinely interested in others. And her.
I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with Lizzy.
Chapter Eight: Robbery
Lizzy and I spent the rest of the week hanging out together whenever possible. At school I tried to pay attention, but it was difficult to think of anything but her. After school she’d come by my work as I closed the store. We talked about music, what she was listening to and what I liked. I played her the Coldplay-inspired song I was working on after she all but insisted. I handed her my guitar and said, “Turn-about’s fair play.”
She took the guitar with confidence and began to play a classical piece by Andres Segovia I was familiar with. It was amazing.
“Um, wow. You rock!”
“Thanks,” she replied. She didn’t need praise, reassurance, or accolades from others like every other human I knew, myself included.
As the weekend approached I asked her what she had planned for Friday night.
“Game night is on, I imagine. Want to go?” she asked.
Game night was fun, but I’d rather have her to myself. I knew what would happen, what always happened at game night: the guys and girls separated like oil and water. We’d be in the same room, but I wouldn’t get to be with her.
“Sure, but let’s grab something to eat before we go. Can I pick you up?” I still had no idea where she lived.
“I plan to volunteer at a nursing home on Friday for a few hours after school. If you’re not already engaged, you want to come with me?”
I was up for any activity that put us together. “Of course. What will we be doing?”
“It’s really simple. We just go around, room to room, loving on people.”
Loving on people. I had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound too hard. I’d follow her lead.
After school we took my car to the nursing home on the south side of town. I was ready to hold my nose as the usual foul sm
ell I associated with these places assaulted my senses. She saw me tense.
“Relax silly. They fortunately keep this place really clean.”
We went to a bunch of double-resident rooms. These people’s lives had been reduced to a 10 x 14 space with one dresser and a corkboard covered in pictures of family and memorabilia.
Apparently “loving on people” involved going from room to room, seeing who was awake and listening to whatever they wanted to say. She was great at it. You could see a real difference in the people we talked with, the before and after Lizzy effect. It’s not like they were simply happy to have a visitor. No, it was like they seemed to have more joy in their faces, more comfort in their souls and less pain.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but watching her effect on others seemed… off. I mean, people were always better after being with her, but that wasn’t normal, not natural. From time to time I swear I saw sparks, or some kind of light, jumping from her to others. Either I’m seeing spots or … or what?
My vision is 20/20.
After dinner and on the way to Michael’s for game night, I pulled in to a gas station; I was running on fumes.
Lizzy got out to use the bathroom and I went to pay. I was staring off into space when they walked in.
Two guys in their early twenties rushed in wielding guns.
The big burly guy headed to the back of the store as the short blond sprinted to the checkout counter, shouting for everyone to get down. He pointed his gun at the clerk’s head, screaming for him to empty the contents of the cash register into a bag.
I’ve seen way too many crazies in my life, and this guy was off the radar. I’m sure he was on some kind of drug, and was relatively sure he was going to blow the clerk’s head off, regardless of what the clerk did.
I saw the direction this was heading. This was going to turn into a blood bath. We were all going to die. Lizzy was going to die. I hoped against hope she’d remain unnoticed in the bathroom.
The short blonde was about to lose it. I had to do something or the clerk was dead.
A blinding flash of light hit us, as if some giant truck pulled into the station with its brights on. The short blonde was momentarily disoriented and I acted.