by Maggie Ryan
"Oh, I ain't working right now. Bad back. Worker's Comp. Don't suppose I'll ever work again now, worse luck."
No, I suppose not. The man always was a shirker. "Well, see you around, Sean. Take care of yourself."
"Yeah, whatever. Good luck finding Sydney. I wish I could see the look on her face when you do." He chuckled like he was enjoying a private joke.
He didn't want to ask what he found so funny. He just needed to get away from him. Sean had the kind of personality to sour anyone's day. He hadn't given him a moment's thought in the three years he'd been gone and he had no time for any such thoughts now. All that mattered was he find Sydney. After a perfunctory wave, he slid back into the driver's seat and rolled slowly away from the house. He could feel Sean's eyes watching him as he drove away, no doubt sneering after the Beemer and hoping he'd crash into one of the many maple trees lining the street.
The school library was on the other side of town, on the right wing of the main campus. It was fitting to find himself back in this of all places—after all, they might have shared their first kiss under a star-lit lamppost but that wasn't where he'd first fallen in love. No, the school library claimed that honor; over in the classic literary section somewhere between Dickens and Dryden under a giant paper mache D. The librarian back then was an amateur crafter, and the place was riddled with relics of her many failed projects.
He remembered it vividly. It was the start of the Fall term, and the whole school smelled of fresh polish and new paint. Sydney's family had just moved to town, and this was her first day in a new school. She had been wearing her crisp new uniform, her curly hair disciplined in tight braids that draped forward, the loose ends caressing the page she currently read. He watched in awe for a minute, concealed by some large volumes back in the natural history section. He heard a sigh as she turned a page, and it was at that precise moment that his heart surrendered to her forever. At the same time, two players from the football team drove roughly past him, forcing him to grunt at their friendly poke in the ribs. She looked up and saw him there, but when she realized the disturbance was about nothing in particular, she dismissed them all in an instant and returned to the pages of her book.
She was magnificent. Somehow or another he had to make her his own. As he mulled over how best to do this, he heard laughter from the far end of the aisle. To his horror, his football chums were checking her out too, and from the looks on their faces he guessed their interest was much the same as his. He had to act fast. He had to know who this newcomer was; he had to claim her before anyone else did. He grabbed a random book from the shelf, and pretending to read it, walked around the bookshelf and accidentally on purpose bumped right into her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was engrossed in my book."
She glanced sideways at the title. "The decline of the dodo. Fascinating."
He looked down, too. Well at least he was holding the damned thing the right way up. He was thankful for that at least.
"Hi. I'm Chandler," he said, offering an awkward handshake over the cumbersome volume. "You're new aren't you?"
"Yup. Just moved in from Portland. My mum got a transfer here."
"Oh? What does she do?"
"Something in banking. Luckily my dad works from home so we all go wherever she goes."
"Have you moved about a lot?"
"More than I like. I hate moving—the whole new school thing, the losing all my friends, thing. I'm kinda hoping she will settle here so we don't have to move again."
"Really?" Chandler couldn't think of anything worse than being condemned to live in this tiny town forever. "I can't wait to get away from this place?"
"Why?"
"Nothing ever happens here. Everyone knows everyone's business and it's the same old stuff every single day. When I apply to college, I'll be looking to get as far from home as possible."
She nodded, but apparently having nothing more to say, looked down at the book in her hands, her finger wedged into the page she's been reading. With a quick flick of her wrist it was open again. He had to think fast or he would lose her attention. It was his turn to look sideways at it. Oliver Twist.
"I read that one last year. I didn't think they ran the same curriculum two years running."
She shrugged.
"Anyway, I got an A in it—so if you need a study partner or something?"
"Sure, maybe."
Sure, maybe. What did that even mean? Was that like a, “Yes, I would love to read with you.” or more of a, “Say anything to get rid of him,” kind of sure-maybe?
"I um, was wondering, maybe we could hang out later. I could show you the town—well—what there is to see, which isn't much, but I'd be happy to show you."
"Thanks, but I have dance class tonight. Some other time maybe."
He was crashing and burning and he could feel it. Still, best not to sound too desperate. "Well, you know, if you change your mind."
"Then I'll call you."
Right. He hadn't given her his number. That was girl-speak for, “Just leave me alone.” He was dead. The football guys knew it, too. No doubt they'd followed the entire exchange, waiting to see how things would pan out. Any second now he'd be side-lined and they'd make their move.
He nodded, admitting defeat, and dropped the dead dodo book on a nearby table. He was just about to leave when she added. "Why don't you jot your number on a Post-it note or something? The battery's dead on my Blackberry."
Hope! He scoured the tables for something, anything at least resembling a scrap of paper and quickly scribbled down his number, checking the digits once to make sure they were legible. "Here. Call me sometime."
"I will."
He was rewarded for his efforts by the sweetest grin, an image he had carried in his heart from that day to this.
Someone by his side coughed loudly, pulling him straight back into the present. There was just a handful of students in the library now—and there wasn't a single Blackberry in sight. It was all iPhones and Smartphones now. Most kids got the study aids they needed on the Internet, but a few still came here for the peace and quiet. He recognized a couple of his old teachers at some of the tables; some things changed, some things stayed the same.
But no Sydney. He wandered over to the librarian's desk. There was a volunteer behind the counter, her nose stuck in a laptop. She wasn't studying; she was gaming but she had the volume way down. She looked up disinterested. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Miss Miles. Is she about?"
"Nah. She had to leave. Someone called a few minutes ago and she had to take off."
"Oh? Where to?"
"She didn't say. She just asked me to cover while she was gone."
"When will she be back you think?"
"No idea. Not long, I guess." The kid slunk back behind the monitor—her duty done.
Great. She could be anywhere. Now what? The idea of spending an indeterminate amount of time in his old library held no appeal for him at all. He pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch. He could check into his motel room. Perhaps it was a little early but it would give him something to do until she returned.
He would have left a message for Sydney with the girl but she never looked up from the screen again. He shook his head and sauntered out of the library. Catching up with the love of his life was proving harder than he'd ever imagined.
Chapter 3
A Strawberry Sky
Chandler had waited all this time, but now that he finally knew what he wanted, the frustration of a lifetime caught up with him in a single day. He trudged down the library steps with a frown on his face. It was like the stars were misaligned, conspiring to keep him from her.
What if he never found her? Chandler shook his head in spite of himself; that was a foolish thought. In a town this size you just had to hang out on the street and sooner or later you would bump into everyone. He would find her sooner or later. But meeting her wasn't enough though, was it? He needed her to want to come back to him. Lord knows,
she had cause enough to not want that.
He sat back in the driver seat of the Beemer, put his hands squarely on the steering wheel and looked dead ahead. Resigned to yet another delay, he sighed as he pressed his foot on the gas and rolled slowly on toward the Super 8 at the edge of town. It wasn't his preferred chain, but this tiny town boasted no alternative.
After checking in and buying a cold Sprite from their vending machine, Chandler headed straight to his room. He tossed his bag on the off-orange coverlet and sat back on the bed. The room was clean though there was a faint, musty smell in the air breezing through the AC unit. He was pretty low maintenance when he had to be. Chandler liked the finer things, sure, but when push came to shove, he was happy as long as the bed was clean, the shower worked and there were no tiny uninvited guests in his bed.
He took a swig of his Sprite and flicked numbly through some uninspired cable. He just wasn't in the mood to focus on any of it. He returned the remote to the side of the TV and opened the synthetic curtains. There was a pleasant view out across the valley, and in the distance he spied the apple grove she used to work at. Sydney had taken a job there at Greens for the summer. Mostly she worked in the shop on the busy seconds counter, selling tubs of bruised and slightly spoiled fruit to the die-hard bakers of the county, and there were a lot of those. The work was pretty physical, packing three and five pound sacks of apples and carrying them out to cars for the old and infirm. Sydney loved it. It didn't matter that her family were well-to-do city types; she was in her element here and it showed. Her cheeks were forever flushed with the kind of beauty only total happiness could conjure. Sometimes he helped her. Greens were always in need of spare hands when the apples were ready to harvest. He didn't care for the work so much, but it gave him an opportunity to be near her.
For the last year they had been friends. At least, she was friends with him. He only pretended that her friendship was enough. That was stupid of course. He'd wanted much, much more. But she had conveniently forgotten about the incident under the lamppost, and he'd carved a niche in her life by being good with words. Twice a week he helped her with her English composition and literature classes. Funny that she never noticed that as he read aloud the words of dead lovelorn poets, that they were his words—almost as much as they were theirs. Night after night he poured his heart out to her, while she made little notes in her laptop and pondered their meaning—when all the time, the truth was staring at her right in the face. Or perhaps she did know. He was never sure. Maybe she just liked stringing him along. Plenty of girls did that.
He was walking her home from the grove one night when his worst nightmare came true.
"What do you think of Liam?"
"Liam?"
"Yes, Liam Baden, the old captain of the football team."
He replied like an idiot. She was about to land the ultimate punch and he didn't see it coming. "He's all right. We shared a few classes one time. He's a nice guy I guess. Why? What's he done?"
"Oh, nothing."
She fell silent. He didn't usually mind not talking when he was with her; they often shared a comfortable silence together. But there was something different about this silence—something edgy—and he couldn't enjoy it at all. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, he asked me out on Saturday." It was like she'd been itching to tell him all along, and he'd been too dumb to pick up on it. Stupid, stupid. His heart sank. Liam Baden was so damned popular—the boy all the girls wanted to date. And Sydney was the prettiest girl in school. Of course he wanted to have her, who wouldn't? Damn him to hell and back.
"Oh he did? And what did you say?"
"I said I'd think about it."
"So you're not sure then?"
"No, not really. He's a nice guy and all."
"Oh." What could he say? He didn't want to splutter anything foolish and drive her into someone else's arms. Then again, if he said nothing, she might go with him and break his heart anyway.
"Just oh?"
Suddenly he felt angry. For the last year he'd been hanging on her every word, helping her with her homework, boosting her confidence, listening to her dreams, being the friend he knew she needed. All all this while he was at college with a hefty workload of his own. Damn it, he'd even gone to a college close to this shit-hole of a town just to be with her. And turned down a ton of college girls who were more than willing to drop their panties for him.
And then Neanderthal Liam Baden had got it into his head to ask her out, and in an instant, all his efforts had been for nothing. Damn this torch he was carrying. Damn it all.
"What do you want me to say, Sydney? Sure, yeah, go for it, have a nice time? Oh hell—do what you want to. Don't you always do that anyway?"
"That's not fair! I've never been anything but nice to you, Chandler. You know that's true! You're being a total asshole."
She strutted off at a pace, her body tense, her lips set in anger. He resented her then, and though part of him wanted her to go away, the greater part of him needed her to stay. He was about to follow her when she turned back herself. Her eyes were on fire, and she looked capable of anything. He braced himself for the onslaught he knew would come.
"You have no right, no right to be like this!" she cried. "How dare you be so horrible when I've been nothing but kind to you. How dare you!"
"Kind? Kind? You call it kindness to just string me along like a love sick puppy, keeping me around like a stupid pet, knowing all along how I felt about you but never giving me one thought or inch of encouragement? How is that kind? You used me, Sydney. That's all you ever do. You use people and you think it's okay, because you don't go beyond that, but it's not okay. I deserve you every bit as much as Liam, if not more so, because I've worked hard for you!"
She snarled at him, her brow creasing. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Why him? What's he ever done to deserve it?"
"Done?" she cried. "What am I, a trophy?"
"Yes, no, I dunno. You are everything anyone could ever want. You're all I ever wanted. I know that. I look at you now, in your pink sweater and jeans, not trying to attract anyone, and yet being more attractive than anyone I've ever known. Dammit, you don't even have to try! I think you're lovely, Sydney. You're my constant thought throughout the day. How can you not know this? I live, breathe and exist for you. Of course I'm mad that you're thinking about Liam! What on earth did you expect! That I would just suck it up like I've sucked up everything since the day we first met? I love you, Sydney! I've always loved you—but you're not kind, you're cruel. Maybe you should go with that idiot. You deserve him!"
She looked close to tears. He had hurt her and he knew it. His anger was tinted with remorse and he stood in front of her, hopeless, not sure of what to say or do next.
"But you never say anything. Never DO anything!" she cried. "All these things you're telling me. How on earth was I supposed to know?"
It was rash and impulsive; after all, she had rejected him once before—but he took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. She groaned at first, but she didn't fight him or object to this sudden onslaught. Instead, her hands reached up to his shoulders and she pulled him closer still. Encouraged by her response, he kissed her harder still—loving her—needing her—afraid to let her go.
After a few minutes of delightful kissing she pushed him away, mostly for air. And to his surprise she was smiling. "You took your time, didn't you? I thought you would never get around to it."
He blushed and locked foreheads with hers. "Well, you know, I was waiting for someone better to come along."
"Yeah, right." She laughed, sharing their first joke as partners. "I'm so sorry," she said.
His heart froze. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't sure. I never meant to torture you. I was waiting for you but you never made a move after that first kiss under the lamppost so I thought I was wrong."
"You should have given me some hint, some kind of encouragement."
"I was raised no
t to chase boys."
"You know I would have done anything for you."
"Anything but ask me out."
They both laughed and he kissed her again. So this was what it felt like to get the thing you most wanted in the whole world. It was a delicious feeling, like no other he'd ever experienced. Liam could go jump, he thought. He'd find some other girl to take out on Saturday. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her close, claiming her as his own. She was his at last, and he was never going to let her go. At least, so he thought as they held each other on the corner of that apple grove. And under the strawberry sky on a fading day, it was hard for a couple in love to imagine anything else.
Chapter 4
A Wedding
He found even her odd little quirks were enchanting. He smiled when he recalled how he discovered her biggest secret. He had discovered it quite by chance at a wedding reception. They were both at college now, but were both back home to celebrate a mutual friend's happy union.
Sydney was wearing a figure-hugging, lilac dress. The top was nicely tailored, showing her beautiful curves to advantage. The bottom was made of layers of lacy material that dropped to her knees, opening freely to showcase her legs when she danced. Her stockings were black. She was stunning, and judging by the looks his friends all gave her, he wasn't the only one to think she was hot.
He remained glued to her side for most of the night, but eventually he had to excuse himself for a bathroom break. When he returned, he found her dancing with her neighbor, Sean Collins. Just seeing him touching Sydney made him see red. Despite being his girl all this time, she was still a virgin.
"I want it to be special," she'd said.
"It will be."
"If you love me you'll wait."
And he had waited. But now she was dancing and flirting and smiling at that asshole, Sean Collins, and he saw red.
His instinct was to walk right out on the dance floor and punch him squarely on the nose, but since Sean had giving him no reason to, he supposed that was a bad idea. Instead, he stood patiently over by the wall of the banquet hall, waiting for her to return to him. As soon as the dance ended, she came straight over.