I looked up and met his eyes. “I don’t need you to explain goodbyes or fate, Meekai. You’re right, I’m not buying what you’re selling. We have control over who we include or exclude in this life. It has nothing to do with fate or a higher power.”
He nodded, “That’s too bad. I suppose I’ll just have to let the fate you don’t believe in prove you wrong.” A lopsided grin formed on his full lips. “I have a feeling you’re a goodbye that’s not quite finished.”
I scoffed. “Okay, Meekai, let's make a deal. I promise that if we ever see each other again, I’ll let you buy me pizza.” Before he could reply, we were interrupted by a shout. I turned to look over to the house when I recognized it as Lucy who had called out.
“Boo? I’m sorry Boooo,” she belted out, interrupted by a thump and Flynn asking Lucy if she needed help as they both trailed off into laughter, followed by a loud crash of what sounded like garbage cans and trailing liquor bottles.
Meekai pointed to the commotion. “Is that someone you know?”
I couldn’t believe Lucy called out my real name, Boo. My full name was Boo Radley Cooper, and she knew how I felt about that. It served as another slap to the face. I’ve never really had a friend in Adalita, and it hurt. I think I referred to her as my best friend because she was the only person at school not to be embarrassed by me, but looking back, it was always about Lucy. I think by watching me struggle, it gave her a superiority complex that fueled any type of friendship towards me. She fit in with everyone, she wasn’t threatened to be seen with me, and I was positive it gave her a confidence boost every time she saw me humiliated.
I looked up and followed the direction of his pointed finger. “No, I don’t know anyone. I came here alone.” I dropped my head in frustration and expelled an annoyed sigh.
Meekai looked at me confused. “Everything okay over there?”
“I’m fantastic, Meekai. In fact, I’m so fantastic, I’m three feet away from showing you my jazz hands!”
He laughed. “You’re funny, you know that? Even though I know you’re being sarcastic right now, I see through it. I see you.”
Delusionoid. Couldn’t wait to hear his take on what he sees.
“Oh yeah? What do you see? Lemme guess.” I tapped my chin in exaggerated thought. “My type of ugly should be given at least three days of mourning?” I moved my hand from the top of my head, sweeping down the length of my torso to visually represent my next point. “Or, how about this, my body should be listed as nearing extinction on the national geographic list, because clearly my type of fat is a rarity nowadays?”
With my hand on my hip, chin aimed at him in defiance, I noticed the smile he’d carried for the last ten minutes had been replaced with anger. Disbelief? He took one step closer; I took the standard two steps back.
“I’m gonna guess you were cranially damaged at birth from a drop to the head. That or you’ve been told lies by some dumb fuck you chose to believe,” he said, voice low, his six-foot-three frame giving off intimidation, his brown-red eyes on fire.
Another step forward. Two more steps back.
“Back off,” I warned. I was rarely intimidated, I was almost desensitized to it, but his presence affected me in the most confusing and jarring way.
“No. I’m not cranially damaged. I’ve been made sufficiently aware by the drunk and disorderly morons back there that I don't fit quite right.” I pointed back toward the house, to the people I’d grown up with and apart from. People I never really knew to begin with. They never gave me a chance. He was right, I did choose to believe them, but only because I felt they were right.
His eyes softened as he stilled. “You know it’s a lie, right? You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve seen up close. Your eyes are almost violet. What color would you even call that?” He twisted his head to the left and right like that alone would give him the answers.
“My Gamma Milly says they’re the color of the Virginia bluebells that grow in the field behind her house. Or in layman terms, blue. They’re just plain old blue.”
“There’s nothing plain about those eyes.” He looked at the ground and whispered to himself, “You’ve got purple eyes; violet.” I looked at him, wondering what was going through his head, but I said nothing and listened as he continued, “There’s not one thing about you that stands out as ordinary. You’re a contradiction. A tongue that’s sharp, uncompromising, surrounded by lips that look . . . soft.”
I watched the column of his throat as he swallowed hard, following his eyes as they moved from my mouth back to my eyes. “The only thing that should be mourned is your presence once it’s lost. Your body? Well, you’re the one with the mace, so I’ll tread carefully.”
He looked straight at me, unwavering. “Your body was built for things that only a man could understand, only a boy who felt intimidated by you would say otherwise. I don’t know your name, but I know I’d do anything to find out, even if that means ending up balled on the forest floor, sight compromised.” He shook his head. “How do I not know who you are?”
“I’m no one,” I told him.
I wasn’t the girl you chose on purpose. I wasn’t the girl who got fed lines like Meekai was delivering, especially with all the bitch I was throwing at him. I was the girl you settle for, the extenuating circumstance; a public joke, a cautionary tale. An example of what not to be seen with. Damaged goods.
I’d been berated, teased and tortured every day of my school life. I never told my parents about all the times I was shoved into a locker, or how many times I went hungry because my lunch tray was knocked out of my hands by Hardy and his band of imbeciles. They never truly knew that their little girl was a social pariah of the worst kind. I loved my parents, and I didn’t want them to suffer because I wasn’t good enough to make friends and keep them.
Three days after my mama’s funeral, I returned to school far too early and was told that mama probably drove into a tree on purpose, just so she didn’t have to look at me
anymore. There wasn’t one time that they showed me kindness. They only ever found an opportunity to turn the unbearable into inexplicable heartbreak that left me feeling hopeless.
I heard Meekai laugh humorlessly as I stared at the ground, remembering every last thing I’d had to endure. “You’re not no one,” he murmured. “You don’t even come close to fitting the criteria of being classified as a no one. I mean, you’re at this party. Hardy’s a complete dick, yeah, but you’re at his party, so I can only assume that you’re regarded as a someone.”
That’s how it went, didn’t it? Some invisible high school ranking system that you lived or died by. A position that was given to you, whether you deserved it or not. If someone like Hardy wanted you a social outcast, then that’s exactly what you’d become. Nothing more, nothing less, and all because his mommy was rich enough to buy him the social standing to do so. Meekai didn’t know me; we were less than strangers. I’d never seen him before. After I left there, I’d never see him again.
Shifting my weight, I hoisted my purse over my shoulder. “Your ignorance is cute. I admire it even. But let's make one thing clear. I’m no one, I’m here out of obligation to a friend, a friend who ditched me. That in itself should tell you a whole lot about me.” I straightened up, feeling the searing anger build like a brush fire in my chest. “That house could go up in flames, and I wouldn’t call emergency services. I’d show them the generosity they’ve shown me. None.”
I began to turn around and follow through with the promise to leave, but I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, and in answer to your earlier question, no, I’m not wearing a G-banger. I’m not wearing panties at all.” He raised his brows, a smile formed as I set him straight. “So, the way I see it, with nothing to sacrifice to the god of douchery, Hardy forfeits the cock inch he would’ve gained, and instead loses the whole thing. You’d be wise to tell him he shouldn’t pray to false gods and make deals on panties that aren’t his to have.”
Fuck! I had quite the mouth. I’m
wearing no panties? Who says that?
To avoid a chance for a response, I rushed the last few steps to Betty and got in, sinking against the leather. Home. I slammed the door shut and pushed the key into the ignition before turning to look at Meekai one last time. I smirked at him as I wound down my window, the thought rolling around in my head, sometimes goodbyes are a second chance.
Hate to disappoint you, Meekai, but I’m moving far enough away that this goodbye is an actual period. A never again.
I turned the key and brought Betty to life; the thought of my bed becoming more appealing.
As I pulled away, Meekai called out, “Hey, what’s your favorite type of pizza?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed and yelled out, “Pineapple, and I’m still not telling you my name!”
He waved, and I watched him in the rearview mirror as he faded into darkness.
2
Radley
“Geez, Boo. You sure you packed enough? I told you there was a spare suitcase in my bedroom closet.”
I groaned at the sound of my name. Dad knew to call me Radley.
My parents’ mutual admiration for Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird was the bane of my existence. Both agreed that Arthur “Boo” Radley served as a symbol of all the things that people refused to tolerate. He stood out as the invisible specter of the town; a kind soul to the children of Maycomb Alabama, and totally misunderstood. They told me that I was a symbol of everything that was misunderstood about both of them. I was an accident. An oops.
Dads’ parents weren’t happy about a couple of eighteen-year-olds with a bun in the oven getting married. Their love proved them all wrong.
It didn’t go unnoticed that because I was a boo of sorts, a surprise, it would serve as something meaningful to my parents, and a big middle finger to my grandparents to call me Boo Radley. Their way around it? They refused to call me Boo and were the first people to encourage me to go by Radley. But even I had to admit to myself that my name was poetic; a prophetic foundation that would set me up like Mr. Arthur “Boo” Radley as a public outcast. Invisible.
But unlike Maycomb, Alabama Boo, I didn’t have a Scout and a Jem who would eventually come to the realization that I was never the things my small-minded town of Adalita had painted me as. I had no one to save my reputation. I had no one to fight for me. Nobody knew me. Nobody had the guts to gather their own perception, instead drawing the conclusion of the popular vote. Outcast.
“Dad, seriously? It’s Radley. It’s been Radley since I was old enough to know better.”
He smiled at me, eyes dancing as only a father’s could. “You’ll always be ou . . .” he stammered, stopped short, and realized he wasn’t an our anymore. Not with Mama, anyway.
Tears burned behind my eyes. He was content with Amy, genuinely happy, but these moments still reminded us both of what we’d lost and how we had no choice but to move forward without her.
“I know, Daddy. I’ll always be your Boo, just like you and Mama will always be my Ken and Barbie.”
He surged forward laughing, his smile breaking through the hurt from seconds ago. He pulled me into his arms and tenderly kissed the top of my head, and whispered, “Not even your Mama and I were as perfect as Ken and Barbie, Boo Bear.”
I smiled up at him, the love I had for my parents permeating the space between us. “You were perfect to me, Daddy Bear.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as a knock sounded, drawing our attention to the front door.
“I’ll get it, Radley. Go up and grab that spare suitcase from my closet and, for the love of God, please move some of the stuff out of this suitcase and into the other one. It’ll fit in Betty, don’t worry,” he scolded with an amused tone.
“Fine,” I yelled behind me. Running up the stairs, rounding the corner to my parents’ bedroom. I stopped at the doorway looked in, but didn’t enter. There was an invisible barrier that still challenged my strength to cross it even two years later. My eyes were drawn to the only picture Dad hadn’t yet removed from the wall. The one of Mama holding me at twelve months old, her lips gently resting on my head, a sideways smile captured as she looked lovingly at the camera, at Dad as he took the picture.
I could almost see him; hear the click of the shutter, my mama’s sweet coo echoing in the resonant moment that now only existed in an eleven by fifteen-inch black and white photo. I turned away, wishing he’d removed it like he’d promised last night. Leaving him was difficult enough, but the reminders were brutal.
I rushed past the threshold and into the closet, grabbed the suitcase and made a dash for my bedroom. All of this was too hard. I’d let go of her once, and it felt like I was doing it all over again.
Five minutes later, a gentle rap sounded on my opened bedroom door as I emptied the last drawer of my favorite slogan tees. I looked up with a smile already plastered to my face.
“They’ll let anyone in here, won’t they?” I said, looking up at my cousin, Wyatt, as he stood in the doorway, his large tattooed frame taking up the space.
“Hey,” he said with an amused tilt of his lips. “I’ve been kicked out of better joints than this.”
We both burst out laughing, remembering how Mama and his dad, my Uncle Cal, had greeted one another this way for as long as I could remember.
The day of Mama’s funeral, I’d hid in the reception room of the funeral home. I couldn't look at Mama’s casket or the spray of yellow roses that covered it. Daddy always brought Mama yellow roses home after he’d finish work late on Friday nights at the realty office. I always wondered why yellow; didn't women prefer red? They did in hallmark commercials, anyway.
Mama once told me that yellow roses signify loyalty. Dad had started bringing them to her the first week they were married. He still took a single yellow rose to her grave every single week. Loyalty.
I couldn't look at the yellow roses knowing her body lay still beneath them, so I’d hid. Wyatt had found me crying silent tears, and had no idea how to calm me. That was the first time he’d said, “They’ll let anyone in here, won’t they?”
My tears had turned into a laughing sob, and he held me as I cried a thousand sorrows into the four walls that surrounded us. If it wasn't for Wyatt, I wouldn't have been able to hear the priest bless Mama, or hear Uncle Cal dote about his baby sister. Or witness Daddy sing Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison through cascading tears and a smile, serenading his once in a lifetime love into heaven, declaring he’d love her into forever and carry her for always.
I would be grateful to Wyatt forever. He wasn’t just family, he was one of my closest friends and he looked after me like a big brother. He’d saved me from regret more than once, and held more than one of my truths.
“What are you doing here, Yeti?”
He uncrossed his arms and pushed off the door frame, walking into my bedroom and positioning himself on the edge of the bed. “That’s funny, I don’t hear a speech impediment coming out of that big mouth of yours, yet you seem to have reverted back to a gibbering two-year-old.”
“Ahh, a speech impediment I am lacking,” I teased. “But any chance to aggravate you by reverting to said two-year-old is too tempting to pass up.”
“Okay, smart ass. You nearly done packing? Uncle Benny boy says he was hoping to get you guys on the road by noon.” He looked down at the carpet as his right leg started to bounce to a beat I couldn’t hear. He always did that when he wasn’t sure of something. “You know I hate that you’re going right? But I know you have to, and I hate it. Why won’t you ju–”
I stopped him before he could finish the sentence. We didn’t need to rehash conversations we’d had a million times, and my mind was made up. I was doing what was best for everyone involved.
“Wyatt, please . . . I trust you’ll keep your word. Tell me you’ll respect my decision and trust that I’m making the right one. Daddy needs to move forward. Telling him anything more than he already knows is not gonna help him move anywhere but backwards and into a whole world of h
urt.”
My eyes pleaded with Wyatt’s as he took in a slow breath and leaned forward with his elbows rested on his knees, a resigned smile on his face.
“I get it Rads, I do. You know me and Charlie will always be a phone call away. Day or night, you call if you need anything. This isn’t an easy one to hold, Radley. Why won’t you tell me who the asshole is so I can go settle things on my own terms?”
I raised a brow. “Really? Your terms, Wye? Terms that would involve an alibi, search warrant and a hefty stint in the state penitentiary system? Nah, Yeti, not gonna happen.”
He growled at me in frustration, not unlike most times we spoke.
“You know I struggle with this, Radley. Everyone is existing on half-truths and when Uncle Ben asks me why he never knew how bad the bullying was, all I want to do is tell him that’s not all he doesn't know. You shouldn’t have to carry this, Boo. It’s safe with me and Charlie, I promise, but one day I feel like it’s all gonna just blow up in your face. Your dad’s not gonna disown you. He's never not gonna love you. Never!”
Tears welled in my eyes and guilt washed over me like a wave crashing into shore. One month after the rape, I had been feeling light-headed for a couple of weeks, and Dad encouraged me to go to the doctor. For seventeen years, I’d rarely complained about anything more than a headache. I’d gone to the doctor, assuming it was the flu. I’d thought the doctor would send me home with antibiotics and advise me to increase my fluid intake due to dehydration. I liked my Mountain Dew and knew they’d tell me to start drinking more water. Mama had always been on me about drinking more water.
Instead, the doctor had asked if I was sexually active. That was the day I’d dropped my head in shame. The doctor had assumed it was from embarrassment. She’d told me not to worry, that everything would be fine. She’d handed me a cup to pee in and sent me to pathology down the hall to get my blood drawn. Twenty minutes later, I’d found out I was pregnant.
Thirteen Hours To You Page 3
