Abi and the Boy She Loves

by Kelsie Stelting

  A dormant part of me twitched, not quite ready to come to life. “You too.”

  Still holding my hand, he asked, “Want to dance?”

  Nikki answered for me. “Of course she does.”

  He led me through the couples to the dance floor and easily swept me into his chest, leading us in a slow two-step I somehow managed to follow. Josh held me close, but not too close. His hand on my waist was firm, but not suggestive. Under his cowboy hat, his eyes stayed on my face, on the other dancers. He was being a perfect gentleman, and all I could think about was Jon and the sock hop and how he’d told me I was one of a kind.

  “Do you go to school here?” Josh asked.

  “Upton,” I said. “You?”

  “The tech school,” he replied. “Carpentry.”

  That explained his hands. “How do you know Nikki?”

  “We grew up together.”

  I nodded. He wasn’t just some rebound guy then. She was trying to set me up for a real relationship.

  I didn’t know how I felt about that, but he didn’t give me time to figure it out. As the song sped up, he spun me in an easy turn.

  My eyes widened as he drew me back to his chest and started a faster two-step. “I can’t dance!”

  He laughed. “Looks like you’re doing alright to me.”

  We worked through two songs before I had to take a break. “I’m tired! You keep dancing.”

  “No way.” He shook his head. “I owe you a drink.”

  He got me a Coke at the bar, then poured something from a flask inside when no one was looking.

  “Whiskey,” he explained.

  I didn’t want to drink it—my parents always drank whiskey and vodka—but I managed a sip.

  “You hate it,” he said.

  “I hate it,” I admitted.

  Laughing, he took it away and left it on the bar. A slow song came over the speakers, and his eyes lit up. “I love this one.”

  The light in his expression warmed me, and I wanted more of that feeling. I’d do anything for it. “Let’s dance.”

  Again, he led me to the dance floor, but instead of a fast-paced swing, he held me closer than before and swayed along to the music, singing to each word of this country song about heartbreak and starting over new.

  The words hit me right in the chest.

  I broke down, right there in the middle of the dance floor, and sobbed into Josh’s chest knowing no amount of music or ice cream or chocolatey brown eyes would ever—ever—make getting over Jon any easier. My heart was his.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I finished packing clothes for the next few days while Anika sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” she asked. “Won’t it be hard, going home?”

  I shrugged in answer to both of her questions, keeping my eyes down. “He’ll still be in class the first few days I’m back for the hearing, and then I can come and stay in the dorms over spring break, so I won’t have to see him.”

  We both knew that didn’t matter. Even if Jon stayed in Austin, his memories still lived in Woodman. I’d drive right past the spot where I met him on the bus the first time. I’d walk up the steps where he’d come to pick me up for school each morning. I’d fall asleep in the bed where I’d had my first time with him and then woken up in his arms.

  “Do his parents know you broke up?” Anika asked. “Aren’t they close with your grandma?”

  I turned my back to her and shrugged. This new subject wasn’t much better than the last one. Plus, it reminded me I needed to tell my grandma what had happened. How, I didn’t know.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just...I can’t imagine how I’d handle it if Kyle and I broke up.”

  I busied my fingers and my mind with going over my mental checklist. There was nothing left to do here. And if I forgot something, Grandma would have extra or help me find some.

  “I guess I better get on the road,” I said.

  Anika slid down from her bunk and then came to give me a hug. She held on long enough to make my eyes water. Why did hugs always make me want to fall apart?

  She patted my back. “Call me, text me, if you need anything. Okay?” She pulled back and added, “I mean it.”

  I nodded, blinking quickly. “I will.”

  She held the door open for me, and I walked down the hall toward the elevators, rolling my bag behind me. Deep down, I wished I would run into Jon. I hadn’t seen him, heard from him, or seen any new posts on social media since we split up over a month ago.

  It was the longest we’d gone without talking since we’d met. I missed him like I’d miss my right arm if it suddenly disappeared. No matter how much I tried to shove thoughts of him to a back corner of my mind, they always surfaced.

  There was no sign of him on the way to my car. With disappointment spreading in my chest, I threw my bag in the trunk, got in, and started down the road. For two hours, I fought the memories, playing the music so loud I couldn’t hear myself think.

  Grandma’s house had never been such a welcome sight. Not when I was a little kid coming for a visit. Not when I first moved in with three garbage bags of my stuff. Not even when I first came home from college.

  Now, I pulled into the drive and ran to the front door, barely stifling tears that had been falling the entire trip home. I let myself inside and looked for her.

  I found her curled up on the couch under an electric blanket, watching a movie.

  “Abi? You’re home early.” At the look on my face, she said, “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Instead of answering, I got on the couch and lay with my head in her lap, crying as she brushed my hair back and soothed me.

  “I thought I could do it,” I sobbed. “I thought I could help him, but it’s all wrong. He doesn’t want my help. He’s not even himself anymore.”

  She softly shushed me. “Slow down, honey. I’m sure it will be okay.”

  “He broke up with me, Grandma. It’s over between us.”

  A quiet gasp escaped her chest. “Did he say why?”

  “He said I deserve better and that he needs time to work on himself. Why couldn’t he do that while we were together?” A sob made me cough. “My parents don’t even love me. I don’t know why I expected him to.”

  Her voice was firm. “Nothing you did or didn’t do could have changed this. Don’t you dare take responsibility for any of it.”

  A million arguments came to mind. I was too demanding, too much trouble, too much drama, too much of everything bad and not enough of anything good. “But—”

  “No,” she snapped, then forced me to look her in the eyes. “They are their own responsibility. You never should have had to take care of your parents or hide their secrets. Jon chose to go snowboarding that day, and a freak accident happened. He decided to stay down instead of get back up. It is not your fault. You are your responsibility. You take care of that first.”

  I wiped at my eyes. “But what if I lost him forever?”

  She shook her head. “Guys like Jon never stay down for long. Especially when they have a woman who demands they rise to the occasion.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Stormy came over that evening after work. She looked way bigger than the last time I’d seen her, but I was smart enough not to say so.

  Grandma, on the other hand, walked right over and rubbed Stormy’s belly. “You’re getting so big!”

  Stormy didn’t seem to mind. She covered one of Grandma’s hands with her own and moved it. “Can you feel her kicking?”

  My eyes widened. “Her?”

  Her smile spread. “Her.”

  “How exciting!” Grandma clapped.

  And it was exciting. But it was also hard to understand how so much happiness and loss could exist in the same room. It made me want to walk away so I wouldn’t bring down the mood.

  But that was the old Abi thinking. My therapist had said that removing myself from hard circumstances and people I love was a
coping mechanism—an unhealthy one. I breathed through my feelings and then went to give Stormy a hug. I told her I was happy for her, because I was.

  We stood in silence for a few minutes, the three of us, and then Stormy turned to Grandma and said, “Is it okay if I steal your girl?”

  “Go right on ahead,” Grandma said. “Just make sure she’s back in the morning.” And then she met my eyes. “If she wants to be.”

  Grandma was giving me an out to miss the parole hearing, but I’d meant what I’d said that morning in the living room with Jon and his parents when they suggested I quit. I didn’t want to have any part in letting my dad walk free. And Grandma was right; I deserved to have the last word.

  Stormy had me come out to her car with her, and we started down the road.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  She gave me a smile. “How does a good distraction sound?”

  “Like Dorian Gray singing a love song personally written for me.”

  That drew a laugh. “Well, then. Get ready for the best love song of your life.”

  Her car turned toward the highway going out of town. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Are you kidnapping me?”

  “Kind of?” She said it like a question, which just made me laugh.

  “How can you ‘kind of’ kidnap someone?” And then I realized I was laughing about being kidnapped when a few months ago I would have been having flashbacks.

  Instead of making me upset, it made me proud. I’d managed a joke, a normal conversation, without breaking down in a panic.

  “I think it’s okay to take you since your Grandma said so.”

  “So, no clues?”

  She shrugged. “I thought we could do something a little different.”

  A sign saying we had twenty miles left until we reached Roderdale flashed outside my window.

  “We’re not going to Roderdale, are we?”

  “Dammit,” she swore under her breath. “I knew I should have made you wear Frank’s blindfold.”

  My cheeks heated. “I don’t need to know anything more about Frank’s blindfold.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter. He wears it to sleep!”

  “Most people call that an eye mask,” I argued. “Plus...you’re kind of pregnant.”

  “Kind of?” she mocked me. “How can someone be ‘kind of’ pregnant?”

  “You can be ‘kind of’ a jerk too,” I said pointedly.

  “Whatever, you love me.” She laughed and cranked the radio to her normal-Stormy volume. Too loud to talk, almost too loud to think, and she sang along to her playlist.

  Eventually, she turned off the highway into Roderdale and drove to the school. I’d never been there before, but it looked about like McClellan and Woodman—all red brick and flat roofs—just smaller.

  Once the car was off, and the deafening music with it, I asked, “What are we doing here?”

  “I don’t think we ever went to a basketball game in high school. At least, not together. It could be fun to go. Be really obnoxious. Cheer like we know someone there.” She unclasped her seatbelt. “If we’re feeling really rowdy, I can pretend I’m going into labor.”

  I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. “You’re crazy.”

  She looked at me over the hood. “Is that code for the next YouTube prank sensation?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Plus, I love me some nacho cheese.” She swung her purse over her shoulder and started toward the door. “Do you think they’d put it on a pickle for me?”

  “Ew, seriously?”

  After sending a hurt stare my way, she rubbed her belly and spoke to it. “Don’t worry. Auntie Abi didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Uh huh.” I pushed the school door open and held it for her. “Blame the baby.”

  “What other benefits are there to being pregnant?” she asked. “I mean, other than the whole hair and nails thing?”

  “Maybe the precious new life thing?” I teased.

  She tilted her head. “Good point.”

  We walked down an empty hallway, following signs to the gym. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear whistles and the occasional cheer. “Why aren’t there more people here?” I asked.

  “I mean, it is Roderdale,” she said. “There’s no one here. Wanna break into some unlocked cars later?”

  I pretended to consider it. “Rain check?”

  “Right, that might be too much excitement.”

  “We don’t want you going into labor.” I laughed.

  After a few turns past trophy cases that still displayed plaques from the ’50s, we made it to the cafeteria next to the gym. She paid the five bucks for us to get in and then spent twenty at the concession stand.

  As she checked out, I muttered, “Are you Octomom or something?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you have some too, don’t worry.”

  “That’s not really what I was worried about...”

  She was already walking into the gym with her tower of food, though, scouting chairs. Plus, this was the girl who had no shame. Making her first impression in a strange place balancing three plates filled with cheese-covered items was the least of her concerns.

  She led me up to a spot near the back of the gym where we could sit on the bleachers with our backs against the wall. High school guys played on the court, and the scoreboard said they were still in the first quarter.

  With cheese on her top lip, Stormy yelled, “GO, TEAM! YOU GOT THIS!”

  A few people around us turned to stare. Probably because nothing was really happening in the game. Not that I’d actually know what an exciting moment was. This was my first basketball game, that I remembered at least.

  “You have to try this,” she said and handed me a plate with popcorn and a puddle of barbecue sauce.

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Better than a personalized Dorian Gray song.”

  “Like anything could top that.”

  Refusing to take no for an answer, she dipped a kernel herself and handed it to me. Salty barbecue flavor inundated my taste buds, blending with the buttery popcorn. It was all I could do to keep from moaning.

  I leaned over her stomach. “Baby girl, I take it back. You have amazing taste.”

  Stormy laughed, making her stomach wobble.

  A guy wearing the visiting team’s jersey made a basket, and Stormy let out a loud whoop.

  “I don’t think that’s the right team,” I muttered.

  She shrugged, so I started cheering with her.

  If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  As promised, Stormy brought me to Grandma’s house after the game, and I went straight to my room. Without the distraction of the buzzers and players and Stormy’s too-loud music, my thoughts ran wild.

  Just like I’d expected, memories of Jon fought for attention, striking me one after another. Not just from our relationship, but from all the time I’d known him. The thrill of him picking me up. The shock of seeing him and Denise together in the kitchen. The butterflies that shot through me the first time he’d said he loved me.

  I stared at my bed, wondering if I should just sleep on the floor, but then I remembered Jon coming in before my first day of work with his dad, my period-stained underwear laundry on full display.

  The only thing that could come close to tearing my thoughts away was the next day’s task. I pulled my comforter and pillows to the floor and lay down with the speech I’d prepared. I whispered it out loud, trying to picture how I could make it better—deliver it so the board had no choice but to make him serve his full term.

  Eventually, my eyes became dry and the letters began blurring. I physically couldn’t stay awake anymore. So, I set the paper beside me and fell asleep right there on my bedroom floor.

  Grandma woke me in the morning, a sad, knowing look on her face. “You okay, sweetie?”

  I gave a jerky shake of m
y head as I stretched out the knots in my back. No use lying.

  She extended her hand to help me up, and I took it, not putting any weight on her grip.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Eight. We have about an hour and a half before we need to leave.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “Right.”

  I used the chore of getting ready to take my mind off the day and the churning in my stomach. I wanted Dad to see how good I looked now that I was no longer under his thumb. I wanted him to see that I was happy and healthy—even if one of those was a stretch right now. But I would be happy again. I hoped.

  After putting on a pair of slacks and a plain dress shirt I used to wear to work with Mr. Scoller, I slipped on some black flats and went to the living room where Grandma waited, looking impeccable.

  When she noticed me, she stood and grabbed her purse. “Ready?”

  “No,” I said. “But yes.”

  With a nod, she started toward the door. “We’re walking to the Scollers’ house, and then we’ll ride with Glen and Marta.”

  “Marta’s coming too?”

  “Yes,” she said as she locked the deadbolt. “She wants to be there for you.”

  “Does she know...about...”

  I let my sentence hang, waiting for Grandma to fill in the blanks.

  She kept her gaze ahead and nodded.

  But that just left more questions. Had Jon told them? Did Grandma let them know last night? And if the Scollers had known, had they kept it secret from Grandma? Was she surprised when I told her last night? Were they mad at me? Or worse, disappointed?

  I worried the questions would follow me all the way to the prison, but then Glen came out the front door and wrapped me in the most fatherly hug I’d experienced in my entire life.

  He held me tight as he said, “We’re here for you, Abi, no matter what.”

  Tears found my eyes, and I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you” was all I could manage, although it didn’t even come close to being enough.