When it came to my turn I sunk down in my chair. At heart I was a bit of an introvert, and the events with Christie had made me even more private, but there were still things I wanted to say. To Kelli and Nic I willed a regular schedule of Mandarin Orange Spice tea parties by phone so that we could always keep in touch. To Mrs. Sandvig I willed an incoming class that would learn a new vocabulary word every session. To Ryan, I willed dinner at Millaways someday, in this life or the next. For Peter, I willed a colorful and courageous muse to inspire his art. Then it was time for my last item, and this was to my class and the juniors, sophomores, and freshman behind us, every single one: “A burning memory of the lecture of the light. May it always guide you home. Busca la luz, my friends,” the junior announcer spoke on my behalf.
***
“It’s not Millaways, but it will do for now,” Ryan said over dinner. The Elysian Field was set in an old Albuquerque family hacienda with kiva fireplaces and viga ceilings. The cuisine was northern Italian, though, and the sounds from a baby grand piano floated in and out of thick adobe walls with diamond-finish plaster. Our waitress had been very nice. We’d joked with her about wanting to order some wine but not being of age yet, and she brought us each a glass on the sly. I told Ryan she had a secret crush on him. He looked so handsome, as usual. He was wearing a black dress shirt, something new that he bought for our stint at Judge Vargas’s, and a gray, tweed sport coat, because it was required. I was wearing black peep-toe heels and a body hugging, electric-blue, long-sleeve dress.
“Were you surprised that Christie willed you a second chance at redemption?” I asked, picking up a bite of my stuffed zucchini blossoms.
“At least she didn’t say anything harsh about you. I was kinda worried she might,” Ryan said. After hearing about her attack in Marnie’s he had suggested I get a restraining order against her. It wasn’t until I explained to him that I was determined to not block the opportunities in this last part of her high school life and told him about my confession to her that he retreated from the idea. “Was it over Ben?” he asked me. I told him I didn’t think so. The night it happened I had also thought of Ryan and all the problems I was having with my health, host families, and school. It was a painful and embarrassing memory that I had pushed out of my mind, until Christie brought it back.
“I did try to tell Christie those kind of acts were always about ourselves, rather than a particular guy…but however it happened, I never want to be in that place again. And I would never wish it on anyone else.” Ryan could say nothing to that.
“My parents called this afternoon,” I said casually now, watching an elegant, older couple get up from a table next to us to dance to a jazz ballad. “They are starting out early tomorrow on the road for graduation. They are picking up my sister at the airport tomorrow. I didn’t know people danced here.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Ryan and I watched the couple box step. The piano was in the next room, but there was an indoor tree lit up with tiny, white snowball lights in the center of our room that made the ambiance romantic. “I guess our parents will finally meet.” Ryan took a sip of wine. I knew it made him nervous. We’d talked about how they were different, and I made him promise to specifically tell his mom not to bring up the fact she allowed us to sleep together. “If they know your parents do, it will make being together more difficult, even though they told you they’d rather know we were somewhere safe. They would think they’re too counterculture or something.” I had warned him. “So, did you ask about this summer?” he asked.
I had. And this was the hard part. I knew I had to tell him tonight before he saw them tomorrow. “They proposed a compromise,” I started, watching his expression fall. “They say I can visit you this summer and you can visit me, but I have to go to school in August. Perhaps we can talk them out of it. And if we can’t, maybe I can transfer for the winter semester.” I’d already thought through plan B. If I just gave school a shot, it was really all my parents wanted me to do right now. It scared them to think that after all the years of prep school, I might not go to college. It didn’t scare me, because I knew deep down, eventually I’d end up furthering my education. I just wanted to explore, and it was a way of being with Ryan. “Kelli and David have seen each other on weekends this entire semester. It’s a pretty quick flight from Albuquerque to Tucson, and you can even drive now.” I smiled. “Plus, we still have the summer to get used to it, and maybe we’ll think of something else.”
Ryan stopped eating.
“Don’t be afraid to be away from me,” I said. “I’ll be thinking of you every day.”
“You’re leaving again.” Ryan put his head in his hands.
“No. It’s one state away, not an ocean.”
He looked miserable. I felt the same. “I can see you in ten days,” I said. “I already asked my mom.”
He winced down at the table. I didn’t know what to say or do. “If it’s too bad we’ll do something to change it,” I said. “We’re adults now. We can figure this out. I’m doing this out of respect for my parents, but I won’t let other people run my life. We can do this.”
Ryan finished his wine, and a new song started. He took a big breath and seemed to compose himself. “Do you want to dance, Kara?” he asked.
Ryan took me by the hand, and we walked toward the tree. The muted lights spotted the tiles on the floor like an organic strobe. He placed his hand on the small of my back; his other folded mine into his. I rested my head against his shoulder and watched stars flicker beneath us.
Chapter 29
For Real
I hated life. This wouldn’t work. In the two weeks I had been at U of A nothing was going right. It was oppressively hot here, everyone in my dorm wore sorority or fraternity T-shirts to segregate themselves into cliques, my math lab was exponentially harder than I expected and led by someone who barely spoke English, and my roommate kept going into my drawers and borrowing clothes and makeup without asking. And most of all, I missed Ryan. If I called my mom on one more crying jag this week, she’d probably try to make me see another counselor.
Knowing that I’d see Ryan again in twenty-four days was the only thing that was currently keeping me going. We’d talked about the ticket last night on the phone. We’d calculated twenty-four days all the way down into hours, minutes and seconds just to see if it sounded any better. With just over two million seconds, it didn’t. “I wish I could get on a plane tomorrow, but I’d probably flunk my Elements of Calculus test next week. Not to mention the essay on Boethius that’s due in a couple of days,” I had told him.
Ryan seemed to be doing better at school. Or at least if he wasn’t, he didn’t talk about it much. “I got a new gun last weekend,” he had mentioned. “I bet your brother would really like it.” They had bonded this summer when he visited our home in the canyon lands. The visit showed me something new I’d never known about Ryan: He was into defensive arts and a world that never really interested me. It seemed like such guy stuff and was a strange juxtaposition to the poetry-reading, short-story-writing, sensitive man who also cried when he took me to the Santa Fe Opera during a visit to his home. And of course during those periods in Albuquerque, it was always, as Ryan once joked, a “champagne-studded shagging marathon,” full of all of the decadent excesses a summer job at his dad’s engineering business and my job waitressing at a local bar and grill could afford.
But now it was back to school. And in my dorm room tonight all I was thinking about was how this wasn’t the place for me. I was adrift, going through the motions of scholarship again. The only nice thing about being here was my view. On the eighth floor in the dormitory, I could see all the lights from the valley below me, and it reminded me of the night of Spring Fling when Ryan and I rode up to the base of the Sandias. This high up we were supposed to be the quiet floor, but people were loud in our co-ed dorms and did ring-and-runs all weekend long. I hated that. I
f they weren’t knocking on the door and running away, some overly caffeinated freshman was pulling a freaking fire alarm in the wee hours of the morning.
I went to stand by the window now, looking horizontally across at the dark outlines of the mountains rather than the twinkling below. Somewhere out there tonight, Ryan was around, too. Maybe he was standing in the dark thinking about me.
The sound of the phone interrupted my thoughts. What if it was him? We’d made a pact not to call every day, just because we were both really trying to be brave and not make it seem like we were checking up on each other, but maybe he was lonesome tonight like me.
I ran to the phone, but hesitated. It was Saturday night. How pathetic would I look to him by staying in, anyway? I hadn’t really made any friends yet, and my roommate had gone to some fraternity meeting to learn how to be a little sister. She wanted me to do it too, but I told her I didn’t want to. Those boys were just inviting girls they wanted to make out with, and the whole idea of brothers and sisters sounded grotesquely incestuous.
I glanced at my watch. It was too late to be her family; they lived on the East Coast. I’d just spoken to my own parents recently, too. No one else had been calling during the evening hours. It had to be him.
“So, maybe I’m pathetic, but I really miss you,” I said as I picked up the phone.
The laughter on the other side rushed through my head, making me dizzy at once.
“Kara?” Ben’s voice asked. “G’day. I miss you, too.”
I stopped breathing. I had not spoken to Ben since I saw him in Albuquerque four months ago. It could just have well been four lifetimes ago to how far out it seemed now.
“Are you still there?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“How did you get this number?” I cupped my hand over the receiver to suck in a big breath he wouldn’t hear.
“I just called your parents. I spoke to your mom. I didn’t realize it was past nine over there. I hope I didn’t disturb her too much.”
I hadn’t told my mom not to give Ben my number, but the fact that she did was confusing. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was someone else.”
“I guessed that.”
Always so self-assured, Ben was talking to me again like we were casual friends. I could hear an edge of humor still in his voice. It made me both smile and want to cry. “Oh. Well, why are you calling?”
“I told you. I missed you.”
I laughed. There was really nothing else I felt like doing. “Where are you?”
“Australia.”
“This must be an expensive call.”
“Probably.”
“You’re not coming to see me, are you?”
He laughed now. “Not yet.”
I smiled at his tone. He was playful, and even though I told him not to call or write me after his visit, I’d thought several times about the platypus he gave me. I’d been grateful for it, and it traveled with me to college. It was hard to say good-bye to the friendship we shared. I could still feel our connection over the line. “You know, I have a boyfriend now.”
“I knew it was just a matter of time,” he said without pausing. “I’m glad.”
“Are you?” My reply was just as quick. I couldn’t decide if I felt hurt.
“Sure. Tell me about school.”
“No.”
“Well then, tell me about him.”
I thought about this. I wanted to say something mean to Ben, even though I felt lighthearted now that he’d called and we’d been so immediately up front with each other. “He’s from my old high school. He’s going to college now in New Mexico.”
“Long-distance relationship, huh?” Ben’s remark made it seem like he wanted to say something mean, too.
I exhaled now into the phone. This wasn’t funny anymore. “I guess.” Ben did know me well. He knew just what to say that would hurt me most. “Maybe I’ll move back there next semester.”
“Maybe you should move forward.”
Was he suggesting I say good-bye to past relationships? That included him too, didn’t he know?
“How do you know I’m not?”
Knock. Knock.
My head snapped toward the sound. “There’s someone at my door,” I said to Ben before he could answer.
“Do you want me to call back?”
I swallowed. I couldn’t tell him yes…could I? “Well, are we finished?” I asked.
Ben laughed.
“Hold on a sec. It’s probably no one. They do that here. Knock on doors and run away.” I set the phone down and walked over to the peephole, then threw the door open at the sight.
“Ryan!” I cried, taking in the suitcase at his feet, the bag over his shoulder, and the roses in his hands. He dropped the shoulder strap as I sprang forward to hug him. Soft, fragrant, red petals brushed through the side of my hair.
“What are you d—how did you get here?”
“I didn’t want to be away any longer.” He kissed me. “I had to be with you.” His smile was as wide as it was beautiful, his eyes bright with happiness.
I beamed back at him in response, then ushered him into my room as he brought his stuff in from the hall. “I can’t believe it’s you,” I said as I kissed him again.
The sound of the phone too long off the hook bleated a crescendo that startled us both.
I stumbled toward the receiver, remembering now I’d left Ben on hold.
“Who were you on the phone with?” Ryan asked behind me.
I put the phone in its dock, thinking quickly.
“I was just about to call you,” I said, turning around. He’d gone to stand in front of the window.
“It’s nice here,” Ryan said, and I looked down with him at the lights in the valley floor below.
Bright flickers beamed happily back up at us, as if there were no reason to be lonely or confused anymore. I reached for his hand. “With you it just got better.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” He turned toward me, drawing me closer with the hand I was holding. I looked up into his eyes, deep into their golden trim. “Because I’m moving out to Tucson to take a wait-list enrollment spot at the University of Arizona. I start Monday.”
I couldn’t speak; I was still mesmerized by his words. I’d watched his lips move through every syllable, so imminently kissable.
“That’s right,” he continued, grinning at my gaping mouth. “What do you think? Can I stay with you for a while?”
I smiled wide and out of the corner of my eye caught sight my twin bed, picturing us waking up together in that cramped little thing the next morning. “Of course.” So what if it wasn’t meant for two, we’d make it work and be happy with it anyway. I giggled. “I’m thinking that you must really love me. And I really love you, Ryan.”
“Don’t ever doubt it,” he said.
The End
Jeania Kimbrough is an American entrepreneur and author. Exploring new ideas and places are among her favorite pastimes. Reading is another. She likes to think she was born in the middle of a dried out ocean, and has been thirsty ever since. Connect with her online at: http://blog.jeaniakimbrough.com
Praise for Van Diemen at 17, also by Jeania Kimbrough:
A true page turner! Few works of fiction portray realistic exchange students, and even fewer place these characters at the epicenter of a human drama. Kara is a compelling character facing a range of both ordinary and extraordinary issues as she attempts to live with a family of strangers and adjust to the demands of a new school in Tasmania. Although Kara’s exchange story is atypical, her story is a realistic portrayal of the kinds of situations and personal reactions to them that do crop up every year for a few students. The sympathetic rendering of a conflicted young woman is heartfelt and w
ill resonate with anyone who has struggled to make sense of life in another culture.
-- Bettina Hansel, Ph.D., Author of Exchange Student Survival Kit, 2nd Edition
Van Diemen at 17 won a 2010 Moonbeam Children’s Book Award for Mature Issues. The story is a prequel to Luz, Rebound.
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