by Leigh Irwin
James walked me to the front door, barely hidden from the street and Janie’s prying eyes. He bent and kissed me, a light, soft kiss that surprised me. Warmth radiated from my stomach through my entire body.
“I had a really good time tonight. Hope my sister didn’t ruin it for you. She’s quite the motor-mouth,” James said smiling down at me.
“Your sister’s darling. Thanks for asking me to the game,” I said mesmerized by his green eyes, watching them sparkle in the glow of the porch light.
He stood back and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, suddenly shy again. We grinned at each other for what seemed like ages before he tore his gaze away, distracted by the little voice calling out.
“Jamesie, come on. Let’s go! Right now!”
“See you Monday in class!” he said, rolling his eyes. I watched him lope down the steps and sighed.
I let myself into the house, happy and feeling like I was floating on air. The light in the foyer was on, but the rest of the house was dark. By now, I was used to it. I flipped on the lights as I made my way up the stairs. In my room, I changed and then texted Emma.
“Come over.” She responded with a thumbs up emoji, and I ran downstairs to let her in, barefoot and in her pajamas.
“Where is everyone?” she asked after I’d shut the bedroom door behind us.
“I have no idea. Maybe work, maybe out, it’s hard to say these days.” I was still preoccupied with thoughts of James.
“So… how was it?” Emma asked, as we climbed onto my big bed. I turned off the light and thought for a moment.
“He’s different than I expected. He’s kinda shy, and he seemed nervous most of the night. But I really like him, and I think he likes me, too,” I said, thinking about our kiss.
“Did he kiss you goodnight or ask you out again?” Emma propped herself on an elbow and studied me. The streetlight outside my bedroom window lit the room enough that I saw her clearly.
“Yes… and no. But I’m not worrying about that tonight.”
Suddenly, we heard the garage door open, and then we heard loud voices, clearly my parents’. Emma and I froze, staring at each other. I held my breath as we listened.
Chapter 7
“You owe me an explanation! I’ve been worried for months, and I’m sick of it. Whatever it is, I have a hard time believing reality can be any worse than what I’ve imagined,” Mom said. She sounded furious. We heard the garage door grind closed again, and the door into the house slammed after them.
I couldn’t remember if I’d told my parents that Emma was spending the night. She was at our house so often that it didn’t really matter. Come to think of it, I could just have easily been at Emma’s, for all they cared. My parents were so wrapped up in their own problems these days that I felt invisible most of the time.
“There’s nothing to tell. You’re just being paranoid as usual.” Dad sounded irritated, on the verge of angry. That hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that I always got when they fought was back with a vengeance.
“What’s going on?” Emma whispered.
“Sshhh! I don’t think they know we’re here, and I don’t want them to. I’m tired of getting into the middle of their arguments.”
We laid back and pulled the covers up to our chins. The muscles from my neck to my toes ached from the strain of holding myself so tightly. Emma stared at the ceiling, waiting for whatever came next.
“John, just stop bullshitting me. Have a little respect! You’ve been gone more than you’ve been home for months, and I’ve never seen you so anxious to play golf. This isn’t normal, and I need to know what’s going on.”
Mom was really yelling by that time, but I detected an undercurrent of fear as well. I turned away from Emma, ashamed that she’d been dragged into this. It was bad enough living with their fighting, but having the whole mess exposed to Emma was far worse.
“Janet, just shut the hell up! You’re driving me nuts with your constant nagging. Why do you think I work so much? You spend an absolute fortune, and you’re still not satisfied! I can’t make the money as fast as you spend it. We fall further and further behind every month. When will it ever end?”
I heard Mom sobbing and had to fight with myself not to leap out of bed and come to her rescue. I half sat up, but Emma pulled me back down.
“Don’t. It won’t help,” Emma whispered.
“I’ve taken as many extra shifts at the hospital as I can, and I have cut back on the spending. I don’t know what else to do,” Mom sniffled. Then we heard nothing. The house was so silent that Emma’s and my breathing sounded loud. When Mom spoke again, it was in a sad, resigned voice.
“Things have gotten so bad between us lately, and they just keep getting worse. How’d we ever get to this point?”
“I don’t know,” Dad said, his words so soft that I had to strain to hear them. He seemed about to cry.
“John, tell me the truth. Are you having an affair?”
“What? Of course not. How could you even think that?” Dad was shouting again, and I cringed. “I’m not putting up with anymore of your crap! I work my ass off for this family, and all you do is complain and accuse.”
We heard his quick tread on the stairs, and then the bedroom door slammed. Mom was sobbing, and tears sprang into my own eyes. I brushed them away, but new ones soon took their place.
“Come on Sam. It’ll be okay.” Emma put her arms around me and held me close while I cried.
A different problem faced Emma and me the next morning. How were we supposed to get downstairs and out of the house without Mom seeing us? I was pretty sure Dad was gone, since my bedroom was right over the garage, and I’d woken before it was light to the sound of the garage door opening and a car leaving.
“Let’s get dressed before we open the door, and if we can’t sneak out, we’ll say we just got here from my house,” Emma suggested.
“I doubt that’ll fool Mom, but it’s worth a try,” I agreed, grinning. I cracked the door open, looked across the hallway and saw that my parents’ bedroom door was closed. Then I heard the shower go on in their bathroom. “Come on! She’s in the shower.”
We tiptoed down the stairs, left through the sliding door in the kitchen and pushed through the low hedge that separated our houses. My legs got all scratched up, but I barely noticed as we let ourselves into Emma’s house though their sliding door. Our houses were mirror images of each other’s, and I knew Emma’s house almost as well as my own. Emma’s mom, Pam, was working on her laptop at the kitchen counter. She looked up as we rushed inside.
“Hi girls. Have you had breakfast yet? Get whatever you want to eat,” she said, as she gathered up her computer, phone and coffee cup and headed upstairs. “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”
I wasn’t at all hungry, but I supposed I should eat something. My stomach still felt like it was tied in knots, first from everything we’d overheard last night, then because I’d hardly slept, and now because I’d had to sneak out of my own house.
“Let’s just have cereal,” Emma said, as if she could read my mind. She probably felt the same way, but her expression was blank. She studied the contents of the pantry and brought out three boxes. I grabbed bowls, spoons and the milk. We each picked a box, poured and ate silently.
The house was quiet, except for birds chirping in the trees outside, and I felt myself relaxing for the first time since the night before. It was hard to believe that barely twelve hours earlier, I’d been with James. It felt like ages ago.
Chapter 8
On the Monday after my parents’ latest flight, I leaned on the railing of the upstairs catwalk that spanned the foyer, separating my parents’ and my bedrooms. I’d been trying to decide whether to do my homework then, or wait until after dinner. I’d always liked that spot, because there was a large picture window right above the front door that gave me a clear view all the way to the top of our steep street.
I let my mind wander back to my eighth birthda
y. Dad had been on a trip, but he’d promised to be home in time to celebrate. It seemed like hours passed as I stood in that same spot, watching the empty street and waiting for him. Darkness had fallen before he turned the corner and headed downhill, headlights pointing the way to our house, the middle one. We lived on a cul-de-sac, with Emma’s house on one side and an older couple’s on the other.
I’d raced down the stairs to meet Dad in the garage, just as he finished pulling a gigantic bouquet of multi-colored balloons from the back seat of the car. He helped me bring them in, making sure they all made it through the door and into the house without popping. We set them free in the den. I was enthralled by the sight of all those balloons floating against the ceiling, their colored ribbons dangling. I spent the hour before dinner arranging and rearranging them, while Mom and Dad watched me from the couch, sipping wine and laughing at my efforts. I couldn’t remember a better gift.
A red convertible barreled down the street, sparking my curiosity. Then I heard the garage open.
“What the hell?” I thought as I ran downstairs and into the garage.
“Hi Dad. Whose car is that?” I asked, touching its sleek red hood. Dad gave me a sheepish grin, grabbed his briefcase and stood proudly next to the car’s front door.
“Mine! Isn’t it great? I decided it was time for a change,” he said. I noticed the challenging look in his eyes, and he’d stopped smiling. I probably shouldn’t have said anything more, but I couldn’t resist.
“You just went out and bought yourself a new car? Wasn’t it expensive? And what happened to our old one?” I asked.
“I traded it in for this one. Why shouldn’t I? I work hard enough.” His chin jutted out defensively.
I didn’t dare say another word, knowing it would only get me into trouble. He brushed by me on his way into the house. I swallowed hard and trailed behind, worried another fight was brewing. But this time, I didn’t stick around to find out.
“I’m going to Emma’s!” I yelled and slammed the front door behind me, just as Mom greeted Dad in the kitchen.
Pam opened the front door, responding to my pounding with a worried look.
“Whoa! Are you okay?” she asked. “Come on in and tell me what’s going on. I was afraid you’d put a fist right through the door with all that pummeling!”
I perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter and watched Pam open a cupboard and pull out a couple of glasses. She filled them with ice and then water, and set one in front of me.
“Okay. I’m still waiting for an answer,” she said, eyebrows raised and arms folded across her chest. I studied my glass, my finger tracing a line through the beads of moisture on its outside as I thought. Little rivulets of water dripped from the glass and pooled on the countertop.
Finally, I said, “My parents have been arguing an awful lot lately, and they were about to have another fight. Sorry to barge in on you, but I couldn’t take it, and I didn’t know where else to go.” My heart was still pounding way too fast, and I couldn’t look at her.
“Oh Sam, I’m so sorry! I had no idea. Of course, you’re welcome here whenever you want.” She turned and opened a drawer, rummaged around and pulled something out, which she set on the counter before me. “I want you to take this house key,” she said, looking into my eyes.
“Why?” I asked softly. I picked up the key and turned it over in my hand, feeling strangely comforted.
“If you need somewhere to go, and you can’t go home, or you feel like you need to leave your house, just come here. Come in, no matter what, no matter what time it is, even if no one’s home. Use the key,” she said, tapping it where it lay in my open palm.
My breath hitched as I met Pam’s worried eyes. I felt so grateful that I was afraid I’d cry.
“Thanks, Pam. This really means a lot to me.” I returned my gaze to the key, trying to get my emotions under control.
“Also, you can tell me anything you want or need to. It will be our little secret. And I promise not to give you unsolicited advice, unless I really can’t stand it!”
A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, but never reached her eyes. I jumped off the barstool, rounded the counter and hugged her as hard as I could. I stayed for dinner, texting Mom that I wouldn’t be home until later. All I got back was a smiley face emoji.
Keith came in from work just a few minutes before Emma and Pam put the finishing touches on Emma’s latest cooking creation, chicken enchiladas. Emma proudly dished them up and passed each of us a plate of steaming food.
Dinner was delicious, and we congratulated Emma on another success. But the thing I remembered most was the easygoing feeling around the table and the fun of talking and laughing together. Several times, I caught Emma’s parents smiling at each other affectionately. It surprised me. I never saw anything like that at home. Emma and I updated them on our life as high school sophomores. Everyone was interested in everyone else’s stories, and it felt like the four of us were cocooned in a world of our own.
That dinner stood in stark contrast to the solemn meals at home, where neither of my parents looked at each other unless they had to. I’d given up talking about my day whenever Dad was at the table, since he didn’t seem at all interested. And Mom always looked so nervous that it took my appetite away. Why couldn’t my family be more like Emma’s?
Chapter 9
By the time I got home that night, all was dark and quiet. I snuck upstairs and went straight to my room. The next morning, I couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I heard the TV in my parents’ bedroom, so someone was home, but I didn’t pause as I grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and hurried out the front door.
The day was foggy and gloomy. I shivered in my hoodie as I walked to Emma’s, crunching on the granola bar. Their garage door rumbled open, and Keith greeted me. Emma followed him, and we climbed into the back seat. At the bus stop, we stood without talking, shivering in the cold. Emma still looked sleepy, and my mouth was full of granola bar.
I rushed to class and plopped down next to James. He smiled, and I felt a pleasant flutter in my stomach as I returned his smile. We hadn’t talked or even texted since Friday. I half-wondered if he was having second thoughts or regretted going out with me. But then, when class ended, he asked me to eat lunch with him. A feeling of relief washed over me.
We sat outside the lunch area on a bench far from the rest of the kids. The wind had picked up, and I gathered my hair into a bunch and twisted it on top of my head, securing it with a scrunchy. Although the fog had receded, the sky was still the color of dull metal. None of that affected my mood in the least.
“I had a really good time on Friday,” James said. He said it almost like a question, like he wasn’t sure I felt the same. I smiled to myself, liking that he didn’t seem to be taking things for granted.
“I did, too. But it’s too bad our team’s so terrible. How was your weekend?” I added, not sure how to keep the conversation going.
“It was fine. We went to Santa Barbara to see my cousins. I didn’t know if I should text you or anything…” He trailed off and looked at me quizzically. I took a bite of sandwich, pleased he’d been thinking about me. We chewed silently, sitting side by side, separated by our lunches on the bench between us.
“Wanna go see a movie next Friday?” James asked suddenly. I caught my breath. It was as if the sun had just come out.
“Sure. I don’t think there’s anything on my busy social calendar that night,” I joked, smiling.
The rest of the week sailed by and Friday came. When the doorbell rang, I ran to let James in.
“I’ll get it!” I called on my way downstairs. I opened the door, flushed and nervous.
“Hi! Come on in. Sorry, but you have to meet my parents. They’re in the den,” I said as I led him down the hall. I’d made sure I got to the front door before one of them answered it, so I could warn him about the introductions. But there hadn’t been any reason to worry. Mom and Dad were watching TV, a
nd they didn’t even stir until we entered the room. I was grateful they seemed to be getting along for once.
James shook Mom’s and Dad’s hands firmly. When James smiled, I noticed a cute dimple in his left cheek. Mom and Dad seemed to approve of him, as we all stood around chit-chatting aimlessly. I extricated us as soon as I could, and we stepped into the cool evening air.
James’ mom was waiting in the car. She had James’ smile, complete with the same dimple, although her hair was dark and straight rather than blond and curly. She seemed nice enough, even if she didn’t say anything except “Hi”. Maybe she didn’t want to embarrass James by talking too much.
On the way to the theater, I noticed her glance appraisingly at me in the rearview mirror several times. I met her gaze and smiled, hoping I passed inspection. We thanked her and hopped out of the car in the mall’s parking lot.
An outdoor escalator took us down a level to the theater, where James bought a huge bucket of popcorn and handed it to me. He carried a large drink and grabbed two straws. We had reserved seats, which was nice, but I stumbled climbing over the long legs of a cute twenty-something guy, spilling popcorn onto his lap.
“Oops! Sorry about that. Think of it as a free snack,” I joked. He pulled his legs in, brushed the popcorn onto the floor, and smiled at me. When I turned away, I felt something hit me on the shoulder. I looked back in surprise, just in time to see him toss another errant piece of popcorn my way. He winked and grinned, and I felt myself turn red.
Guys never flirted with me. They flirted with Emma all the time, but not me. James, behind me, watched the scene without comment.
We ate and drank, held hands and watched the movie, an unmemorable mish-mash of car chases, special effects and fights, where the hero prevailed and saved the world from imminent destruction. In other words, the normal stuff of movies.
