by Jolene Perry
Now I’m wishing I’d had the guts to ask Amber to come with me. I held her when the cab came to get me from the marina, and the thought of letting her go was torture, but I did it anyway. I’m not sure this is my home anymore. My place. The air is heavy with memories.
The cab slowly gets closer to my building. MY building. Not the one I share with Mom. Mine. The nagging in my gut starts penetrating my head, my heart. I don’t think I can do this. It’s late. My meeting with Mel Gladsman, Mom’s agent, is tomorrow. I imagine walking into the apartment alone, and my stomach tightens threatening to relieve me of the airplane food I had on my trip cross-country.
I open my mouth to tell him to take me to the plaza, but that’s where Mom’s services were. Now what?
Think, Antony, think. “I changed my mind,” I say.
The cabbie glances at me in his rearview mirror.
“Uh…Waldorf please.”
“No problem.”
I lean back in the seat and pull out my phone. I think about how fun it would be to have a group over to my room at the Waldorf, but I don’t think I could take the stress. The thing is that I care what Amber thinks, and something like that would piss her off. And neither of us have said, “Will you go out with me.” But at the same time, I feel like we’ve shared a lot, and I’m at least smart enough to know that counts for something.
The crazy thing is that I really want it to.
The cab drives up the familiar streets with the ever-changing billboards, and sea of cars and people, even on this late, rainy night. I climb out of the car at the hotel, grab my bag, and I know, outwardly (even with my lack of a haircut) I blend in. I’m wearing my nice shoes, my expensive pants, my Armani coat…But inside, do I still belong here? I have no idea.
I step up to the counter. A young woman, not much older than me, smiles wide. “You’re Mr. Preston, is that correct?” she asks.
I’m stunned into silence for a moment. “That’s me. Yes.”
“Do you have a reservation?”
Crap. “Uh…no. My trip to town was last minute, I…”
“It’s no problem.” Her fingers tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. “Preference for room size?”
“It’s just me.”
“Double or single suite?” she asks.
Shit. I have money, right? I’m only here for a night. “A double would be great, thank you.” Just because.
“No problem.” Her efficient smile, fingers, and mannerisms make me remember what it’s like to be in real civilization. “Can we help you with your bag?”
I chuckle. “Nah, I got it. Thank you, again.” We trade a credit card number for my key, and I head to my room. Alone in the Waldorf Astoria, feeling like an adult and like a kickass New Yorker. So, maybe part of me could belong here still.
As soon as I step inside, I pull out my phone and send Amber a text. MISS U. NOT STAYING IN NY. TOO WEIRD HERE.
I wish she was here with me because I want to share this with her, show her New York.
And it is weird being here, even though right now things aren’t too bad. Also, I figure it’ll help Amber feel better about me being gone if I don’t actually want to be here.
Amber’s text back brings a smile to my face.
SEE U SOON. CALL ANYTIME
Is this what it’s like to be dating someone? Where that person is just sort of there for you? Like I can text her when I’m sad or can’t sleep, or just want to talk.
I have no idea what to do with myself, so I strip down my boxers and my T-shirt and start flipping channels on the TV. It’s been forever since I just vegged out and watched TV. Living out a boat definitely changed what I do with my veg-out time.
My stomach starts to rumble, so I order room service. I realize my pants and shirt are wrinkled from the flight, so I ask to have them pressed. I stifle the urge to ask someone to run to Armani and pick me up a suit. I’m sure they’d do it. Sort of amazing what I can get while in boxers, in my hotel room.
- - -
I lower myself back into bed, now the proud owner of a nicely pressed shirt and pants, and a full stomach, but it all seems a bit ridiculous.
Dad and I do fine on his boat. Granted, I just learned its a million dollar boat, but still. The everyday stuff just isn’t that hard. Why do I miss this? Not that Mom and I ever spent money for these kinds of extras. But still, what was it about being here that I loved so much?
Mostly the idea of it. The image of it. Of knowing I blend in to a city that feels like the center of everything. The middle of the rest of the world. But in the long run, does that even matter?
To me, it matters that Mom is gone, a thought I have to quickly shove away. It matters that Dad loves me, even though he’s weird. It matters that I have Amber, or that I’m part of whatever’s between us. David, even with his…eccentricities or immaturity, or whatever, is a good friend. Hélèna, such a part of my past, also adds to who I am. Now I kind of feel like shit over Gem. Dad was probably right. She probably did want more, but she was willing to do more, with a lot less than I should have given her.
I leave the TV on, and try to drift off, but give up.
This place feels off without Mom. I don’t belong here anymore. I feel it, the weight of the knowledge that things are different. My life is different, changed, and will never be the same.
Two AM, and I know I’ll be leaving for Seattle tomorrow. I can’t stay here. Not with this weight hanging over me.
- - -
“Antony?” Gem’s voice is unmistakable.
I spin around in the lobby of the Waldorf and almost run into her and her parents. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Griffin.” I reach out my hand.
“Antony. It’s great to see you,” her mom says. “We’ve missed seeing you around.” And then her sympathetic face hits me.
“Yeah. I’ve missed being here,” I tell her, just trying to hold onto some measure of politeness when every sympathetic looks sends splices of something sharp through me. “Gem, do you have a sec?” I ask. And what the hell am I thinking?
Her eyes flit from me to her parents. Her carefully straightened blond hair swishes around her as her head turns. “Uh, sure.”
I step in next to her and we walk to the nearest set of small chairs.
“This is crazy, running into you here.” I shake my head.
“Yeah. I mean, we come here for brunch pretty often, but, yeah. Weird. I didn’t know you were in town.”
Right. Now’s when I should say something. My brain just isn’t—
“What’s up, Antony?” She smiles, but it feels different. Wary almost. Not what I’m used to from her.
“I just…I feel like I was never as nice to you as I could have been.” Isn’t that the most important thing?
“Oh.” Her brows pull down.
“I was just thinking, that’s all. I guess, I guess I want you to know that you’re a cool girl, and that I’m sorry if I…” Man, I’m crap at this. “If I ever made you feel like you weren’t important to me, or made you feel bad, or…” I rest a hand on the back of a chair, and I’m like gesturing with the other hand, only I’m crap at that, too. It’s like I left New York and turned into a middle-schooler for real.
“Wow.” She folds her arms, but in a relaxed way, not a frustrated way. “It’s like you’ve changed. I mean. I always felt lucky for being the girl with you when we were together.”
“But, was it enough?” Or was I the jerk off I thought I wasn’t?
Her whole face looks confused—her brow is wrinkled, and her eyes are all squinty. “Are you…asking me out?”
“No!” I say way too quickly.
“Then I’m confused.” She shakes her head.
“Sorry. I just want to make sure that I never made you feel bad.”
“Well, you’re a lot nicer than anyone else I’ve…been with.” Something
very real is on her face now.
“Your expectations are way too low,” I tease. “You’re gorgeous and smart and shouldn’t put up with any shit.”
Her brows come down as she starts to turn away. “You’ve changed, Antony.”
“Is that good?” I ask.
“I guess, yeah.” She smirks. “It was good to see you.”
“You, too.” And I may be crap at trying to make things right, but it feels good.
“Thank you.” She pulls me into a short, tight hug before letting me go.
And the crazy thing is that I feel lighter for it.
- - -
As soon as I step outside, the weight of the city, of being here, pushes down on me again, and I shove it away like I’ve been doing with everything else I don’t want to think about. One more stop, and then I’m heading to the airport to go home. Home. To a boat. My life is definitely not what it used to be.
Sixteen
“What happened in your meeting?” Dad asks as we drive away from the airport.
“He told me to start writing. That it needs to be personal, real. He wants pictures no one else will have.” My talk with Mel still unnerves me. I held it together, though. I really did. I sat and we chatted as if we were discussing pros and cons of certain cars and not my mom.
“Are you ready to do this?” Dad asks.
I know what he’s asking. It’s not my writing skills he’s talking about. He’s talking about how Mom’s death still feels—something I don’t want to touch. Not yet. “Almost.” That’s easy enough, right?
“I ask because I’m guessing you still have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” His gaze is pointed at me.
My gaze is pointed out the window. Only thirty more minutes of drive time before Amber. “A few.” But hopefully he knows me well enough to drop it.
“How was the Waldorf?” Dad asks.
And that’s the sign that he’s going to let it go for now. I let myself relax into my seat for the final few minutes of our drive.
“Amazing,” I say. Because the way I feel just doesn’t have words right now, it’s all too mixed up.
- - -
Amber just took off for home, or boat, or whatever. I’ve been back for two weeks. Amber and I are together pretty much all the time. Our home school classes are similar, and we’re both trying to get as much done as we can. The hope is that the last bits of senior year will go a little more smoothly. Also, being around her means that she’s what I’m thinking about, and that beats the hell out of pretty much everything else that’s on my mind.
I’m trying to be careful, but kissing her makes me crazy. The other problem is one of the only places we have any privacy is in my room. Kissing a girl in my room makes me even more crazy.
I know I need to start Mom’s memoir, especially if we’re going to push it to print early, but I’ll get to it. Just not yet. I also know that my email is growing, not shrinking, but that, too, isn’t something my brain can wrap itself around. Instead I’m goofing on my computer, talking with David about nothing.
My insides still turn over with Mom, and with all that I need to do, all that I’m holding in, the hope is still there. The hope that the longer I push things away, the more likely it is that my body will dissolve it. Break it apart into pieces that won’t hurt so much. That all the pain will disappear the way I need it to.
“Antony.” Dad sits across from me at the table with his computer.
“Yeah?” I don’t glance up from my screen. Maybe he’ll take it as a sign that I’m too busy to talk. It’s funny how the tone even in a single word, lets me know that he’s about to start a topic that I don’t want to touch.
“Antony?”
I push out a sigh and flip my computer closed.
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “No need for attitude.”
“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but probably fail.
“It’s great that you’re spending time with Amber, and that she seems so happy—”
“But?” I interrupt.
“But it’s all you’re doing. I’m sure you have deadlines with the book, and you haven’t said a word about email, and—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
His shoulders fall, just slightly. “Antony…”
“I said I’ll take care of it,” I snap. I grab my computer, and head to my room. Time to shower off.
But mostly, time to get out of this room and away from Dad. Does this make me immature? Maybe. I don’t care.
- - -
Amber’s working on some project with Brit this morning, leaving me on the back of Dad’s boat by myself.
My phone rings in my pocket in what I hope is the signal that Amber’s ready to come over.
“Dude! You were in New York and you didn’t call, man!”
“David. You don’t live in New York anymore.” I shouldn’t feel twinges of disappointment that it’s David instead of Amber.
“I was there, Antony.” He’s pulling his guilt thing. “Visiting.”
How do I tell him I didn’t want to see anyone? “Sorry.”
“Trace hasn’t heard from you at all. Gem only saw you because she said you two ran into each other, and that’s the only reason I even knew you were there. Two weeks ago! We were online yesterday and you still didn’t say anything. What’s up?”
“Yeah, well…” I’m falling for the girl you told me not to waste my time on.
“So, what’s holding you?” David’s voice sounds more serious.
Amber’s walking up the dock. I start to smile at her until I realize she has tears streaming down her face. The sight of her red eyes twists my gut. “I gotta go, David.”
“Antony.”
“We’ll talk. Maybe I’ll come down for a few days, but right now I gotta go.”
“Okay. You know if you need to talk or something…”
“Oh no.” I try to laugh. “You’re not allowed to get all deep on me.”
It’s the perfect thing to say. David laughs, and I hang up as I jump off the back of Dad’s boat to take Amber in my arms.
Her body shakes against me, breaking me apart. But I’m practically an expert of pushing away things I don’t want to feel.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. I have no idea what happened, but I’ve never seen her like this. It also makes me realize that without meaning to, I’m relying on her a lot more than I should because I don’t want her to be sad. She keeps me afloat, helps me to have the strength to push through every day, to ignore the cracking, aching in my chest.
Her arms wrap around me more tightly, and the only thing I know how to do is to hold her. I need it as badly as she does.
- - -
I’m sitting on the back deck of Dad’s boat, Amber pressed tightly under my arm.
“I finally heard from my dad, and he doesn’t want…” but her voice stops.
Because I’m total crap in these situations I just squeeze her closer, stroking my hand up and down her arm.
“He said it’s not a good time for us to get to know one another.” Her hand comes up to wipe her face again.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” What else am I supposed to do? My heart aches for her right now, so much that words won’t come. Or at least that’s my excuse. Because if I really let myself feel this, I’m wondering what else might leak out.
“He’s in Boston. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to go to NYU. I thought maybe I’d be close enough that I’d see him once in a while.” Her breath’s still catching in these weird, short, bursts.
“I’d love to see you there, show you New York.” My fingers trace up and down her arm.
“What’s the point now?”
“Uh… me?” I tease.
It works. She attempts a laugh.
“And, he might change
his mind, especially with you so close. Maybe.” I mean, I can’t really say for sure, only what kind of dad would just walk away?
The thought feels like a soft punch to the chest. Mine did. But we’ve always seemed okay, and I’m not sure why that is. Well, not okay, okay, but I always knew he was out there, and that I could call him. I just never did.
I guess, too that part of me is pissed that he didn’t stick around, and then another part of me, a part I keep even more hidden, wonders why I wasn’t enough to keep him around. There are people in New York that live on boats. I think.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“For what?” Now I’m cramming my shittiness away, so I can focus on her.
“For making me feel better.”
I have no idea what I did, but it still feels good. “Well, you’ve saved my sorry ass a few times, you know.”
Her head comes off my shoulder. “You are way more awesome than you think you are.”
I raise a brow. “Yeah…I don’t think that’s possible,” I tease and smack a kiss on her cheek.
“Okay, okay.” She laughs. “So, I need to talk about something else. What does Antony have planned next?”
“A lot of stuff I don’t want to think about. I need to start Mom’s biography, but…”
“You don’t even need to try to explain that one.”
“And there’s some stuff I think I need to clear up with my dad, and the issue of the mail. It’s all so heavy.” And I can’t believe I just said all that.
“It’ll get better.”
“Promise?” I tease, knowing she can promise no such thing.
“Promise.”
And now I know I just turned the tables here, and she made me feel better instead of the other way around. So, part of me feels better because of Amber, and part of me feels worse for the same reason.
- - -
Dad and Lynn are on Lynn’s boat, and Amber and I are completely taking advantage of the situation.
Her mouth is hot on mine and her warmth lying next to me is better than any other kind of warmth. The room is so black I can barely make out her shape, not that it matters. She’s too close for me to see her anyway.
