Out

by Laura Preble

  “But I don’t want to forget about it.” She grabs my chin with her small, cold hand. “I’ve never felt…I never meant for this to happen. But now that is has, I don’t want to pretend.”

  “We can’t just do whatever we want. There are consequences.”

  “There are consequences to living a life that someone else wants you to live, too,” Carmen murmurs, sinking her head back into my chest again. “We have right now. That’s all.”

  That’s all we have. Her face, half-shadowed, tilts toward me. How can someone so beautiful be so brave, so willing to give up everything to follow her heart? She could live her whole life, never tell anyone, be rich, be famous, be whatever she wants, except what she really is, I guess. But she would risk all that safety, for me. For us. So much joy in my heart, so much feeling that it might spill out onto the forest floor right here—and I wouldn’t care. We have right now.

  I have to kiss her again. I slip sideways a bit so she sinks down, and I turn her so my lips meet hers—delicious, soft, silk wrapped in cherry blossoms, warm, welcoming, like I want to swallow her and keep her inside me forever.

  Our lips break apart as we hear leaves crunching. “Chris,” she whispers, terrified. “Somebody’s coming!”

  I scan the darkness for a silhouette or a light. Shuffling of leaves, heavy footsteps. We stay still and try to become part of the big, sturdy tree.

  “Chris?” It’s Jana. “I know you guys are out here. Where are you?”

  Should I tell her? She’ll find me anyway. “Here,” I say. Her footsteps come toward us, and I instinctively shrug away from Carmen’s body.

  “Good.” Jana digs hands into her coat pockets. “It is freezing out here. Dad is looking for you. I told him I’d come get you, that you two were checking out constellations.”

  “Did he think that was weird?” I stand up and offer Carmen a hand. She brushes dirt and leaves from her jeans.

  “I don’t know if he thinks it’s weird, but he definitely wants you back.” She glances toward the house. “They’re still talking politics in the parlor, but I think they want to talk to you about him. McFarland.”

  The name is a lead ball in my stomach. Now, especially now, there’s no way I can go with him.

  Carmen grabs my hand. “Maybe we can go out. Go somewhere, the three of us.”

  “That’s not going to stop anything,” Jana says as she pulls a cigarette out of her jacket pocket and lights it. “If they don’t talk about it now, they’ll just talk about it later. Or worse, just send you packing one day.”

  “I’m almost eighteen. Then they can kick me out, but they can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Almost eighteen and seriously Perpendicular.” Jana takes a long drag and exhales. “Which means you’re not human. So you give up any rights you thought you had.”

  Carmen shakes her head. “That’s so wrong. It makes me so mad.”

  Jana continues. “It is wrong. As a matter of fact, I just gave Chris an interesting piece of literature. Huh, Chris?”

  “She gave me a magazine…it was called Liberation or something like that.”

  “What’s that?” Carmen asks breathlessly.

  “There are people who are trying to change things,” Jana says before flicking the cigarette into the bushes. “There’s an organized movement.”

  Carmen glances toward me. “Are you involved?”

  “Me? No. I just…I bumped into you. And now we’re here, and this is happening, but it can’t be happening because we’re all going to get arrested or worse, and we have to forget everything.” I catch my breath, watching my sister and this girl staring wide-eyed at my rant.

  Jana glances back at the house. “Right now we need to go back to the house. You two are going to have to decide which side you’re on. C’mon.” She grabs Carmen’s hand and runs toward the back door. I trot to catch up.

  Before we go in, I turn to Carmen. “We should forget about this,” I whisper. She nods, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Jana puts an arm around Carmen’s shoulder. “So nobody gets the wrong idea,” she says. We walk into the nice, warm house. I wonder how long I’d be able to stay if anybody knew my dirty little secret.

  Jana and Carmen walk casually into the parlor, looking cozy. I’m jealous.

  On a fussy chair, McFarland sits, skin flushed with the brandy, and Lainie reclines lazily on the velvet love seat, her legs tucked up under her. Warren and David sit on the larger sofa. The gap between them that tells me they haven’t been agreeing on something. I bet I know what.

  I sit on the floor, as far away from anyone as possible.

  Jana keeps her distance, I guess so no one smells the cigarette smoke. “We’re going upstairs. I want to show Carmen some of my fan magazines,” she says, so politely I almost choke. If they could only know what she’s really thinking! She winks at Carmen and then heads up the stairs.

  Carmen blushes. Wow. If I didn’t know her…I’d think she was totally Parallel. But I guess she’s learned how to present the face she knows everyone wants to see. I don’t think I can be that good of an actor.

  David pours himself more brandy, which is bad news. Drunk David is surly David, and it doesn’t take that much to get there. Warren shoots him a disapproving look, but he ignores it.

  “Chris, Jim has invited you to go out to the college for a visit,” David says happily. Sure, great for him. He wouldn’t have to put up with what would probably be a world-class grab fest. I can just sense that McFarland is a grabber. The idea of that is repulsive.

  “I think you’d really enjoy Westhaven,” McFarland says as he takes another drink. “The school is very progressive, and no matter what area of study you’re interested in, there’s an excellent program for it.” He finishes his drink in one gulp, and says, “Well, Chris, I was hoping we could take a walk or something so I can could tell you a little bit more about the college.” Oh, he looks so benevolent, so caring, the older mentor helping the young Anglicant. Shit. I have to get out of this.

  “I am so tired,” I say, shaking my head. “I was just thinking of heading up to bed.”

  McFarland glances at David slightly. He looks startled; it’s not often that his son doesn’t do exactly as intended.

  “Oh,” he finally spits out. “Maybe you could just show Jim the Spyder. He really wants to see it.”

  “Another time,” I beg off. Standing, I make my way to the stairs before David can find a rebound. “Good night. Nice to see all of you again.” I don’t look back. I am sure Dad is boring huge laser-beam holes into my back at that moment. I just totally screwed his deal.

  I want to run to my room, shut the door, pull heavy furniture in front of it and never come out, like a mouse running into its hole. But I don’t run. I walk, calmly, and then panic once I’m inside.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” What can I put in front of the door? How can I keep him from coming in? He will surely come in, to give me a good talking to. No matter how civil we were, David knows exactly what I meant by my little show of independence. And he won’t stand for it. I will pay. But if I could only keep him out for a while…

  A light tapping. Fear swirls in my gut, a dark tornado. “Who is it?”

  “Carmen.” She’s whispering.

  I open the door just a bit; her face is pressed through the crack I’ve left. I don’t dare let her in. “Here.” She presses something into my hand and disappears.

  In my hand is a small, folded paper. Meet me tomorrow. After dinner, dark. Same tree. A little heart at the bottom.

  God. What am I going to do? How am I going to live with this?

  First thing is to hide the evidence. Where? Desk drawers? No. He might look there. Under the bed? Too obvious. I go outside to the telescope, unscrew the lens, and carefully place the note inside before securing the lens again.

  I turn out the lights. Put on flannel pajamas in the dark. I pretend I’m invisible, that no one can find me in the shadows of trees in the moonlight.

&
nbsp; A tapping at my door — I must have been asleep, because the shadows have shifted. I’m under my quilt, and my pajama top is twisted around like a straight jacket.

  The door opens just a crack; behind my eyelids I feel glaring light from the hallway spill in. I don’t move, I don’t look, and I try to breathe as slowly as possible, even though my heart is beating so fast I know they can hear it downstairs.

  Footsteps, cautious, careful. I sense someone standing over me, but I don’t move. “Chris?” Warren whispers.

  I pretend to wake up slowly, even though Warren isn’t the person I’m avoiding. “What’s up?” I ask, yawning.

  Warren checks the door as if he’s afraid of being overheard. “David is very angry with you, Chris,” he whispers. The brandy smell clings to his breath and skin. “He feels you disrespected him in front of someone very important. He feels really insulted.”

  From somewhere, some person who is not me but who is using my voice says, “I’m insulted that he wants me to get with that stupid old fart.”

  Shocked silence. Then, from below his belly button, a deep laugh starts to rumble and spill out of Warren, a mirth tsunami. He struggles to keep it quiet, leaning on me and muffling the sound with my extra pillow. “Chris,” he says breathlessly. “Oh, Lord. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” He wipes a tear from the edge of his eye, and in the half light from the hall, his face looks lined and worried. “He…he’s not going to let it go. I just thought you should know.”

  “Can’t you help me?” my voice squeaks. How can I fight anybody with a squeaky voice?

  “I’d like to. I agree with you, but…he’s just so sure this is the best choice for you.” I hear doubt in his voice.

  “But you don’t think that.”

  A breath. Two breaths. “No.”

  “Then help me, Warren! You’re my father too. Tell him no!”

  “It’s not that easy,” he hisses. “I want to help you. I’ll try. But if it’s an out-and-out fight, he’ll win. He always does.” In silhouette, he glances at the sliver of light again. “I better go. I just wanted to warn you.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  Warren shakes his head. “I don’t know.” Sighing, he heaves himself off the bed. “He gave McFarland a ride back to his hotel and I’m sure he’s smoothing over the ruffled feathers, and explaining why you’re shy or some such nonsense. Just expect a confrontation.”

  I should be terrified. But I’m not. After the door closes, all I can see behind my eyes is the curve of Carmen’s cheek, her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges. That night I dream of a stormy blue ocean and a boat carrying me far, far away.

  The buzzing of my phone wakes me . It’s still dark. I blink against the bright glow as I answer. “Andi?”

  “Can you meet me?”

  “What time is it?” I look at my clock’s glowing red digital numbers. “Six a.m.? Are you crazy?”

  “I heard about last night.” Her voice, strangled, sounds like she’s trying desperately not be heard.

  “What did you hear?”

  Hesitation. “You defied your father about this match. I heard my mothers talking about it.”

  Cold fear sinks my stomach. “It’s nobody’s business.”

  “Chris, do you know how dangerous this is?” There’s panic in her voice. “I’m sorry I ever helped you. You need to forget about it. Her.”

  Forget about it. Right.

  “Why are you worried all of a sudden?” I pull on sweatpants and look for clean socks. “You were the one who told me to see her again.”

  “I know! But that was before…well, I didn’t think you’d actually….I mean, it’s different when you start to actually see her. I thought…I thought you’d see her and realize it was…”

  A mistake.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the end of the driveway.” I look out the curtains, and in the grayish pre-dawn, I see a silhouette. It waves.

  “I’ll come out and we can go for a run.” We can’t just talk in the driveway; too suspicious. I close the phone and hunt for my shoes, throw on a dirty sweatshirt, and try to get out of the house as quietly as possible. No one is awake yet; the only telltale sign of any drama from the night before is the abandoned brandy glasses in the parlor. I grab my jacket and slip out unnoticed into the dark.

  Outside, the cold wind lifts leaves in spirals as I trot over to where Andi’s waiting. “Hey.”

  We wordlessly start to jog out onto the main road, our breath steaming in puffs and bursts. After we’ve gone about a quarter of a mile, she stops, bends over and grabs her knees, and pants like she’s going to pass out.

  I crunch through the leaves and sit against a tree. She’s guzzling water and joins me on the ground, then passes me the bottle. “It's freaking freezing and you’re out of shape.”

  “I am.” She grabs the bottle and slugs two more desperate swallows. “Think I’ll…take up smoking. Then it wouldn’t…seem like I’m out of shape, just like I have emphysema.”

  “Yeah, that’s so much better.”

  We sit quietly for a minute, and her breathing slows. “Chris.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You have to forget about it.” She grabs my arm, clutches it too tightly. “You have to forget about her.”

  “I know.” My life would be so much easier if I just pretended Carmen and I had never met. But how do you change something that’s already happened?

  “Okay.” Andi sighs, relieved. “And I’ll talk to Carmen. I’ll get her to leave.”

  “No!” Anger and desperation punch me in the gut. “You won’t talk to her.”

  “I will. If she’s gone, then you won’t be able to see her. And then there won’t be anything to worry about.” Her voice softens. “We can go back to how it was.”

  The words build up in me, suddenly, anger and frustration at what she says. “I don’t want to go back to how it was!” I jump up, kick the tree, and start running, running away from her, running away from what everybody thinks I ought to do. I hear her following me, but I’m too fast.

  “Chris!” From far behind me, her voice sounds through the cold. “Wait!” What am I doing? Am I going to run away from everything I know, everybody I’ve ever met? Shit.

  I stop, breathe deeply, and wait for her to catch up. When she does, she grabs my arm and hangs on, panting. “Dammit. I’m not going running with you again. You’re going to kill me.”

  “The cigarettes will kill you.” I wrap my arm around her, supporting her weight as we shuffle along.

  She chugs the last of the water from the bottle, then tucks it back into her jacket. “I don’t smoke.”

  “I know.”

  She grabs me in a huge hug that feels like she won’t ever let go. “Chris. You promise? You’ll forget about her?” she mumbles into my jacket.

  Forget? Her face swims in front of me. There are consequences to living a life that someone else wants you to live, too.

  Smart, beautiful, fierce Carmen. Forget her?

  “Yes,” I say, my voice dismissive and full of confidence. But another voice, smaller and more powerful, nags at my mind. As I look at my best friend, I know that things are never going to be the same. A terror, black and full of teeth, gnaws at my thoughts, quickens my pulse, makes me feel like I might have a heart attack. Andi smiles, her mind eased for the moment. “I’ll forget,” I say, knowing it’s a lie. Saying it for her.

  I wish it were that simple.

  Back home, David’s car is already gone, but Warren’s Escalade is still parked in the driveway. All I want to do is disappear, get away from the house and melt into the forest. I wander in, hoping to find Warren. I do.

  He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper, sipping coffee from a cobalt blue coffee mug the size of a swimming pool. “You’re up early,” he comments without looking up from the paper.

  “Went for a run.” I grab a mug and pour myself a cup.

  “Sit.” He carefull
y folds the paper along the creases, studying it as if it’s an origami swan. He doesn’t look at me. Pull the chair out, sit, sip. Wait.

  “Where’s David?” Grab the sports section. Sports! As if I care.

  Warren covers my hand with his. “What are you doing?”

  I blink innocently. “Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

  “David’s furious.” Warren sighs, heaving his mountain of a chest up with effort to pour more French Roast into his mug. Spooning mounds of sugar into it, he says, “He thought you’d run away.”

  “This morning?” I snort indignantly, or at least I hope it sounds that way. “I just went for a run. Am I supposed to get permission for that?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I told you he wouldn’t let it go.”

  “Why is he so stuck on McFarland?”

  Warren puts his coffee cup down with too much force; caramel-colored liquid sloshes onto the paper, but he doesn’t even bother to clean it up. “He wants the best for you, and for Jana. This is his way of showing that he loves you.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it,” I mutter. “Acting like I’m a criminal or something, just because I’m not interested in some old man I’ve barely met. Maybe he should ask me what I want.”

  Warren closes his eyes, sighs deeply, and buries the lower half of his face behind two massive stacked hands, as if forcing words to stay penned up. He lowers his hands and says, “I am only going to say this once. I agree with you.”

  “Then why don’t you stand up to him?”

  “I told you last night. It’s practically impossible to fight David, at least in the open. Arguments are like gasoline on a fire to him.”

  He’s right. I decide I’m just going to try and keep out of the way until supper. Where would Carmen be today? Maybe I could watch her from a distance. Is that like stalking?

  I eye the church as I head into the garage to pull out my bike. It looms next to our house. I’ve always hated growing up in the shadow of it. If God really hates Perpendiculars, what does He think of me? I shiver.

  I ride into town, and the cool autumn morning feels good, cleansing. It’s not much of a town, actually; hardware store, library, post office, a few stores, coffee place, but it all seems different now. Because I’m different.