“Well, all right then. Good night, kids.”
We sat in silence for several seconds as Mr. Bennett made his way back downstairs. I peeked out from behind my knees and caught Riley moving his jaw in circles.
I lightly nudged his leg with my bare foot. “Anything broken?” I asked.
“You mean besides my pride? No.”
“You big baby,” I teased as I lightly kicked him again.
“Shut up.”
“Relax; I won’t beat you up anymore. As a matter of fact, you’ll hardly even know I’m here. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.”
“That sounds perfect.” He threw his arms over his face in disgust, and I sat and watched as he lay lifeless on the floor.
“I think it was my physical therapy.”
“Your what?” he asked, sitting back up.
“My physical therapy,” I muttered.
He crawled over to the window and sat down next to me. “Your physical therapy what?”
“I think that’s where the powerful kick came from.”
“Oh. You must’ve had a great therapist.”
“I’m sorry, Riley, really I am. I hope you accept.”
“For which time?” He was now laughing. “Evidently you have a history of aggression toward me. You must have a subconscious desire to kick my butt.”
“Only because you’ve tortured me for so many years. Remember the arrow you shot into my eye?”
“There was a plastic suction cup on the end for cryin’ out loud. It didn’t even do any permanent damage.”
“It still hurt.”
“So this is payback?” he asked.
For the first time since my arrival that day, he smiled at me, and I couldn’t resist smiling back. “I guess.”
“Just don’t let it happen again. Please, I hardly have any pride left as it is.”
“Although I do have a very active imagination, I’ll try my darndest to contain my sadistic subconscious mind.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He got up and began to leave the room.
“I’m really, really sorry, Riley.”
“Quit saying you’re sorry,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s getting annoying.”
“Sorry.”
As I watched him leave the room, my line of vision met the bed, and fear instantly filled my body. There was no part of me that wanted to sleep in Melody’s bed tonight. I wasn’t ready.
“Okay, come on.”
“What?” I asked, looking back up at him.
“Come with me.” His voice had softened, and he held out a hand in my direction.
“Where to?”
“My room,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “You can sleep in my bed.”
I stopped cold in my tracks.
“I’ll sleep on the floor, Charlie. What kinda guy do you think I am?”
I thought back to the time he held my face in the oven and pretended he was going to turn it on.
“Wait,”—he laughed—“you probly shouldn’t answer that.”
“Probably not.”
(Riley)
I led Attie toward my room. “Thanks so much, Riley. I’ll be out of your room first thing in the morning. I just don’t want to upset your parents, not sleeping in Melody’s bed and all. Cool room,” Attie said as she plopped herself onto my bed.
I dug through my closet as she raved about being back in Oklahoma. Although she spoke quickly, her voice was soft, and her words were formal and polished. She probably thought I sounded like a country hick compared to all the hoity toity New Yorkers she usually hung out with.
I would be sleeping in the same room as Attie, and put bluntly, I was a nervous wreck. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and turned to face her. She’d already made herself comfortable by lying on her stomach, and she watched as I unrolled the sleeping bag and lay on my back with my arms folded behind my head. Peering over at me, I could tell she wanted to say something.
“Yeah, what is it?” I asked, slightly curious.
“Nothing.”
“Good gosh, just say it.”
Placing her chin on the mattress, she looked down at me with a scowl but didn’t speak. I’m not sure how it happened, but before I knew it I was sitting in front of her, and even though we were only inches apart, I lowered my head so that I could see her eyes. She didn’t startle or pick up her head; she slowly rolled up her eyes so that she could see me.
“What already?” I demanded.
“Why have you always called me Charlie?” she asked. “Nobody else does. Good grief, you and your dad sure have a thing for nicknames. In this house alone I’m called three totally different things.”
My body relaxed as she talked. “Does it bother you?”
“Yes … no, I don’t know. I just don’t see how you can get Charlie from Atticus.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why then?”
Her eyes looked drowsy, and it was clear that she needed rest, but my eyes remained locked on hers. “You remind me of the Charlie Brown cartoon.”
Her eyes narrowed and a crease formed between them as her lips twisted into a crooked frown. “Why Charlie Brown? Other than a big skull, I don’t look a thing like him—do I?”
“No, and you don’t have a big skull. You don’t look a thing like him. It’s no big deal.”
She waited for me to answer and somehow managed to look intensely through tired green eyes.
“You say ‘good grief’ all the time, just like on the Charlie Brown cartoon.”
“I do?”
“All the time, you always have.”
The scowl turned slightly softer. “One more question?”
I sighed in an effort to act annoyed.
“You’re unhappy that I’m here, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
“I could tell from the moment I got here. I realize that you don’t want me here. Why do you dislike me so much? Did I do something, or maybe it’s that I’m here and she’s not.”
I shook my head vigorously. “No. No, you’re talking all crazy. I don’t dislike you, I just—I don’t know, it’s just weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Oh … uh … having a girl in the house again. I kinda got used to the quiet.”
“Well, I can be quiet.”
“I don’t want you to be quiet.”
“You don’t?”
“No, of course not. You’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all. It’ll be all right.”
“Just let me know if I’m being too loud or if I talk too much. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while, so I may go a little crazy.”
“Well, I’ll let you know if you start to get on my nerves.”
“Good. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“Well, you’re gonna if you don’t stop talking and go to sleep.”
“All right, sorry.”
“And stop saying you’re sorry all the time.”
“But I am.” Her voice was hushed and the words trembled. “I’m more sorry than you could ever know.”
It was clear that we were no longer on the topic of her incessant talking.
“You don’t have to say another word, Charlie. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She nodded her head as tears filled the lower part of her eyes. I watched until they fell freely and then looked away. “You’re gonna do just fine.” My own voice shook, but I refused to cry in front of her, on the first night anyway. “You can relax now; you’re home.”
“Thanks, Riley.”
I glanced back at he
r. “You’re welcome.”
Attie rolled over, and after only a few minutes of lying in silence, I heard her begin to breathe softly as she drifted off to sleep.
I was in shock. Attie Reed was gonna be living in my house for the summer. What were my parents thinking, putting an all-American hormonal boy and girl in such close proximity for an extended period of time? This couldn’t be good. To make matters worse, she looked just as pretty in person as she did in the Christmas card we received just five months before she arrived on our doorstep.
It wasn’t your normal family photo, the one with the annoying sweaters and fake, tense smiles. This picture was different, as if the photographer had caught a private family moment and those of us who received the card were getting a peek into their private world.
Attie and her dad were wearing jeans and the same white long-sleeve turtleneck with an OU logo on the front. Dr. Reed sat on the floor cross-legged as Attie sat on his right knee turning sideways with her bare feet resting on his left knee. His arms wrapped around her waist, and hers were around his neck. The photographer must have snapped the photo while they were laughing about something, and I wondered if maybe Attie had told him a joke. Her hair rested on her shoulders, and her nose scrunched as she smiled at her father. It would have been the perfect picture had her mother been in it as well. At the time, I thought the picture was meant to proclaim to everyone that they were okay, they’d survived the darkest time in their lives, and they were happy again. I hoped the picture portrayed the truth.
chapter 4
(Attie)
Apparently my body thought I was still on East Coast time because I woke up extra early. Riley was asleep on the floor below me, and I realized that he gave the impression of being much nicer when he was sleeping. I didn’t remember having any nightmares during the night, and if I did, I didn’t wake him. Maybe the nightmares stayed behind in New York and they wouldn’t be bothering me any longer. One could only hope.
Sliding out of bed as quietly as possible, I quickly made the bed. Wanting to leave a note thanking him for letting me borrow his bed, I searched the room and found a notepad and pen on his desk. He had scribbled drawings on most of the pages, but I found a blank piece toward the back, scrawled him a note, and left it lying on the bed.
Gramps would be there at eight fifteen to take me to take my driver’s license test. This time I felt confident that I was going to pass, so not wanting to look too unsightly in my license picture, I dug through Melody’s drawers until I found some of her old makeup. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing, but I’d seen plenty of women put makeup on, so I figured I could do it. Plus, the few days Melody and I spent together the summer before, I would sit on her bed each morning and watch as she carefully transformed her face. I took mental notes so that I would be prepared a few months later when my sixteenth birthday finally arrived and I was allowed to start wearing makeup myself.
I’d secretly been jealous. Her mother was letting her wear makeup, and my mother was still treating me like I was twelve. Even worse, Melody was so naturally beautiful she didn’t even need makeup. I was the one that needed serious help. I did, however, find one loophole—ChapStick. I wore it religiously and whether I had chapped lips or not. It was the closest thing to lip gloss I’d ever come into contact with, and wearing it made me feel like I wasn’t a complete square.
I swiped some powder onto my eyelids, but it was too dark, so I rubbed most of it right back off. Taking the mascara wand out of the tube, I carefully applied it to my eyelashes. Applying it was much harder than it looked, but the end result was acceptable.
I also threw on some lip gloss and curled my hair. Looking in the mirror, I decided that I didn’t look half bad. I threw on some clothes and ran down the stairs just in time for Gramps to pull into the driveway.
“Atticus.” Gramps greeted me with a big kiss on the cheek. “Wow, are you wearin’ makeup?”
“I want to look good for my driver’s license picture.”
“I see.” He wore a small smirk on his face. “So how’d you sleep?”
“Good. No nightmares or anything.”
“Praise God. Maybe bein’ home is helping to ease your mind.”
“Yes, maybe it is.”
That or the fact that Riley was sleeping next to me on the floor. I felt guilty although I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if we’d done anything wrong or even wanted to.
After arriving at the examination office, Gramps said a small prayer before escorting me into the office so that I could face my fate, but within thirty minutes I was back in the truck with Gramps. I’d blown it. The truck was much taller and wider than Dad’s coupe, so I was unable to see a couple of curbs that I should have avoided. I also failed miserably at parking.
“Well, Atticus, it looks like you’ll be driving a golf cart around town for the next few years.”
Although he was trying to be funny, I didn’t think the situation called for humor at all. As a matter of fact, I was desperately fighting back tears. I could feel my chest start shaking as tears were just on the edge of release.
I was almost seventeen and still didn’t have a driver’s license. I was now, in fact, a confirmed loser.
He interrupted my pity party. “Oh, I forgot. I have something for you.”
“A gift?” A gift would cheer me up.
“Not a gift so much, but it’s something you’ve always wanted.”
“What?” I squealed like a three-year-old. “What did you get me?”
“I’m signing my OU football tickets over to you.”
“Get out?”
“Is ‘get out’ kinda like saying ‘No way’?”
“Yes, it’s just like that.”
“You’re gonna have to get me up-to-date on all this stuff, Atticus. I haven’t been around teenagers since ‘righteous’ was popular.”
“Righteous?” I shrugged. “Anyway, where are the seats?”
“Oh, they’re good seats, Atticus; you’ll love ‘em. They’re under the upper deck so you don’t get sunburned or rained on. Perfect for a princess.”
“Awesome. How many are there?”
“You can have three, and your dad and I will get the others. The first game is around Labor Day.”
During our drive home, he shared stories about many of the Sooner games that he attended. A few of them didn’t sound that fun—they sounded miserable. He called one of them “The Ice Bowl” and said that he almost got frostbite, but the excitement of the game made it well worth it.
Other than the Lord, my grandmother, and animals, OU football was his greatest passion, and he’d passed it down to me. Believe it or not, he taught me the words to “Boomer Sooner” before “Jesus Loves Me.” He’d be ashamed of himself if I reminded him of it.
“How do I handle going to Oklahoma State for vet school?” I asked as we pulled into the Bennetts’ driveway.
“Sometimes you just have to grin and bear it. There’s no reason you can’t root for OSU when they aren’t playing us.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. If there was one team I hated more than Texas, it was Oklahoma State.
“Gramps, when Jesus talked about loving your neighbor, I don’t think he was referring to OSU.”
I’d made him laugh, and he seemed proud. Prejudice against OSU Cowboys and Texas Longhorns was the only form of prejudice promoted in our home. “I love you, Atticus Reed.”
“You too, Gramps. Thanks for everything.”
I hopped out of the car, slammed the door, and as I ran inside the house, Mrs. Bennett yelled my name.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Breakfast is about ready. Come on so it doesn’t get cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walked into the kitchen and noticed the fami
ly dog, Boomer, sitting in my usual spot. He looked as if he didn’t have any intention of moving, so I sat in Melody’s seat. Mr. Bennett was absorbed in the newspaper, and Mrs. Bennett stood at the stove making gravy and singing along to Rick Springfield blaring from her laptop.
I’d never gotten the whole “gravy with breakfast” thing, but it did taste good. I liked it over hash browns. I’d learned that Okies would put gravy on just about anything. They also liked to fry their food—vegetables especially. I’d eaten fried okra, fried zucchini, fried squash, fried pickles, fried green beans, fried broccoli, and fried cauliflower. In my opinion, the okra and squash were the best. One summer I’d even tried fried bacon with gravy, and I hated to admit it, but it was incredible.
Picking up a portion of the paper, I occupied my time until breakfast was ready.
(Riley)
A small throbbing under my chin woke me up. Reaching up to touch it, I winced in pain. Attie kicked me harder than I’d originally thought.
I looked to my bed hoping that she would still be there, but my heart sank when I saw that she was gone. A piece of paper sat on the pillow. It was a note.
Thanks so much, Riley. I slept really great. I’m sure I’ll be fine to sleep in Melody’s room tonight. I might as well get used to it, right? Yea, you get your bed back!
Sorry again about your chin.
—Charlie
I didn’t fail to notice she signed the note “Charlie.” Feeling a grin fill my face, I reread the note a few more times before the smell of greasy bacon broke my haze, and I raced to wash up and get dressed.
I wanted to walk into the kitchen as unassuming as possible, and evidently it worked because no one bothered to acknowledge my existence. They were each reading a section of the paper and were absorbed in the news of the day. My dad read the front section, my mom “Life and Style,” and Attie was reading the sports section.
I started to make myself a plate of food. “Good morning, everyone. Wow, Mom, biscuits and gravy, eggs and bacon—all my favorites. Thanks so much.”
As I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, she about fell out of her chair.
Salvaged: A Love Story Page 3
