I’ll Meet You There

by Heather Demetrios

  “Where are you going?” my mom asked.

  “Do you care?”

  “Skylar.” She raised her hands, palms up, like I was being difficult.

  I walked to the front door and opened it. The heat of the day had faded, and a slightly cool breeze was tickling the trees that stood behind our trailer and blocked it from the highway. Billy came up to me, his hand out like he wanted a hug or something. Josh stiffened, and I hit Billy’s hand back before Josh could make good on the threat I’d overheard. I could handle Billy myself.

  “You’re not my father. You never will be.”

  He ran his tongue over his lips and just stared at me, and I couldn’t move until Josh came to my side and grabbed the bag out of my hand. He shot Billy a loaded look, then put a hand on my back. “Ready?” he murmured.

  No.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  I walked out the door, and Josh closed it behind him. I stopped on the last step and just stared ahead of me. Not seeing anything. I gripped the cheap metal handrail as all that resolve I’d shown inside slipped away. Now what?

  Josh came down and stood in front of me. “Hey,” he said, soft.

  I shook my head. If I spoke, I’d cry and Billy would hear, and that would mean he’d won. So I stood there. I couldn’t move—as if taking that last step would mean I’d never go back.

  I looked down at him, and the moment our eyes met, he reached up and pulled me against him.

  “You did good,” he whispered.

  The shock of his body against mine paralyzed me for a second, but then I buried my face in his neck and tightened my arms around him, breathing in his cologne, his Joshness. His breath caught, and he gripped me tighter. The whole day swept through me in one shudder, and he held me, even though the tears that had sneaked out were soaking his shirt.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. His lips brushed my hair. “I’ve got you.”

  I’ve got you.

  My blood racing, his heart pounding against my chest, I lifted my head and pressed my lips against his cheek. It was warm and scruffy, and I wanted to do it again and again, but I didn’t. I felt him smile.

  “Thanks for having my back,” I said.

  “Any time.”

  Then he let go, keeping his arm around my shoulders as he led me across the street to Dylan’s. When he handed me my bag, his fingers brushed against mine, and I held them for a second. Glanced at him.

  The door swung open, and Dylan looked from me to Josh, her eyes going wide. I let go of his hand, but I could tell she’d seen all she needed to.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  I could feel Josh beside me, and it felt like he belonged there. “Everything.”

  chapter twenty-one

  I leaned over the boxes of fresh-picked strawberries at my favorite roadside stand, scanning the speckled skin for any imperfections. Dylan and Chris were farther down the table, looking at some of the vegetables, but all I wanted were the strawberries.

  The woman behind the plywood counter had turned her newspaper into a fan, her brown eyes squinting against the sun as she watched the workers in the field beside her. A battery-operated radio played love songs in Spanish, and Chris hummed along. I inhaled the sweet scent of the berries, content.

  They were beautiful—lush and red, the same color as Josh’s truck. It was hard to believe anything so delicate could grow in this heat, but they loved it. They were part of this place, part of the dusty earth and hazy blue skies of Creek View.

  “I’ll take this one,” I said to the woman behind the table.

  “Four dollars.” Her accent was heavy, like Chris’s dad’s.

  She grabbed the tray holding three tiny green baskets overflowing with fruit and put them in a used grocery sack while I fished around in my pockets, looking for the ten-dollar bill I’d brought with me.

  “Your dad working today?” Dylan asked Chris as she chose her own box.

  He nodded. “Yeah, but he’s up at the cucumber place. Man, I can’t wait until I start making some real money so he doesn’t have to do that shit anymore. His back’s all jacked up.”

  “Soon,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  I grabbed another box of berries to bring to the motel for Marge as a thank-you—she’d been letting me sleep in one of the rooms for the past week. I kept trying to pay her rent, but she always refused. She’d jokingly referred to it as an “employee benefit.” At first, I’d felt weird around Marge, knowing about her son. It had been an easy secret for her to keep: he’d killed himself in Ohio, before Marge moved to California and bought the Paradise. I wanted to reach out to her somehow, but there was no way I could make up for what happened to him. And I had to trust that she was dealing. Her kindness, her booming laugh, and the way she took care of me … I decided Marge was made of steel. Under that skin was a fortress.

  “Those for Marge?” Dylan asked. I nodded.

  “I wish you would come stay at my place,” Chris said. “I told you, Olivia can sleep on the floor. She’ll think it’s a sleepover—six-year-olds love that kind of stuff.”

  “I know, but I just have this thing about Shrek sheets.”

  Chris snorted. “Whatever.”

  The truth was, I liked being on my own. I’d thought I’d cry myself to sleep every night, missing Mom and feeling homeless, but the only time I did was when I thought about having to go back and live in the trailer for good.

  I slung the bag of strawberries over my arm and held out my hands for Sean so Dylan could pay for her food.

  “Hey, which meal plan did you pick for San Fran?” Chris asked.

  “Haven’t decided,” I said. “What do you think about going to Bakersfield to see a movie tonight?”

  “Uh, sure. Okay, but wait. I’m seriously concerned about the meal plans at BU—”

  “Oh my God, taste these strawberries,” Dylan moaned.

  “Did you just have an orgasm, like, right here in front of us?” I asked, ignoring Chris’s question and pretending to shield Sean from Dylan.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said.

  Sean wriggled in my arms, his eyes on the strawberries. Dylan held a mushy one up to him, and he sucked on it.

  “Aw! His first strawberry,” she said, her voice tender. Sean beamed, swatting at the bright red juice that covered his face. “Chris, take a picture.”

  Chris pulled out his phone. “Sean, my man, we are totally gonna show this to your first girlfriend,” he said.

  “No doubt. I’ll be humiliating him as much as possible.” Dylan leaned down and kissed Sean’s face. As he let out a happy shriek, I buried my nose in his fuzzy hair. I loved his baby powder smell—it seemed to make the world right, just for a moment.

  “I sort of want to eat him. Is that wrong?” I asked.

  Dylan shook her head and reached out to wipe at Sean’s face with a tissue. “I want to about ten times a day.”

  Sean reached for her, whining in a cute kind of way until Dylan scooped him up.

  “I’m gonna call Child Protective Services on your ass,” Chris said. “Humans aren’t supposed to eat their young.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get some kind of citation for giving my kid too many kisses.”

  I watched her twirl him around, both of them smiling and laughing. Somehow, things had worked out. When she’d first gotten pregnant, we’d all thought it was the end of the world. And I knew there were days when it was hard as hell, but it had turned out, she survived.

  “I’m gonna miss this,” Chris said, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

  I shrugged him off. “Stop saying that. You’re depressing me.”

  It was like every few seconds, Chris was pointing out that we were all going to be apart for pretty much the rest of our lives. It didn’t help that I had no freaking clue where I was going to be next week, let alone September.

  “Hey, there’s always Christmas break. And spring break. And summer. Unless, of course, my professors recognize my brilliance and I get an
internship. In which case—”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” I said.

  My voice had a slight edge to it, and I laughed it off and gave him a slight push. Chris didn’t seem to notice, just laughed with me.

  Be happy for him. It’s not his fault.

  We squeezed back into his dad’s truck, gasping at the hot vinyl and keeping our faces away from the infernal air blowing out of the vents while the faulty air-conditioning kicked in.

  “So, there’s no chance Asshat’s moving out anytime soon?” Chris asked as he pulled onto the highway.

  It was the name we’d decided to give Billy.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t seen my mom since I left.”

  I needed a break, but I knew we had to talk. I was just still too raw from having her choose Billy over me. It was weird, not seeing her. I wished it didn’t feel good, the distance, but it did.

  Dylan leaned in from the truck’s cramped back seat. “Do you think she’s, you know, in love with him?”

  “God, I hope not.” The thought made me queasy. “I think he’s taking advantage of the situation. And she’s letting him.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know how she can put her tongue in his mouth,” Chris said.

  “Don’t even … ugh.” I covered my face and groaned.

  “That’s an image I never thought I’d have in my head,” Dylan said.

  Sean whimpered, and Dylan lifted up his favorite stuffed animal and made it dance for him.

  “Asshat’s an asshole,” she cooed. “Yes, he is.”

  I grinned and watched her working him up to full-on belly laughs.

  “Dude, that’s just wrong,” Chris said. “You’ve scarred him for life.”

  Dylan shook her head. “It’s all about the tone of voice.”

  I tried to pretend this was my life for the next year, living in Creek View or maybe a couple hours away, in Fresno or Bakersfield. Of course, Chris wouldn’t be driving because he’d be in Boston, so it would just be Dylan, Sean, and me getting strawberries. I’d be talking about the classes I was taking at a community college in between shifts at the Paradise or some other job. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I’d be close enough to Mom to keep an eye on her but not have to deal with Billy on a daily basis. I could go to school, kind of, and I’d be around to help Dylan out with Sean.

  No.

  God, just the thought of that other Skylar filled me with the kind of hopelessness that makes a person stay in bed all day and do nothing but watch Judge Judy and chain-smoke. Except …

  For just a second, I saw Josh’s face, the way he’d looked at me on the steps in front of the trailer—angry, worried, and some other thing I couldn’t name. Wouldn’t name. If he didn’t stay in the Marines, he’d be here.

  “What are you thinking about?” Dylan asked.

  I started guiltily. “Huh?”

  “You’re smiling like you’ve got some dirty little secret,” she said.

  I could feel her staring at me, putting pieces together, replaying that moment on her porch after Josh walked me across the street. I rearranged the boxes of berries on my lap, then looked over at Dylan, my face, I hoped, a blank.

  “What?” I said. “I was zoning out.”

  Dylan’s eyes widened. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

  “Asshat?” Chris asked, confused.

  Dylan shook her head. “Chris, you are such an idiot.” She leaned over the seat, staring me down with her chocolate brown eyes. “I know that look, Sky. But I’ve never seen it on you before.”

  I glared at her. “I’m not thinking about Josh.”

  She sat back, smirking. “Who said I was talking about Josh?”

  Shit.

  “You tricked me!” I said. I tried to slap at her, but she ducked into the corner, laughing.

  “You bitch!” she said. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Details—now.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Chris slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Skylar. Tell me, please, for the love God, tell me there’s nothing going on between you and Josh Mitchell.”

  I felt high, jittery, like I was everywhere at once.

  “There’s nothing going on.”

  “Yet,” said Dylan. “Every time I go to the Paradise, you two are attached at the hip.”

  You two. Attached. I felt the blood creep up my neck, and I collaged a wall to hide behind. A thick stone one that only archers and big men with swords could get past.

  “We just hang out,” I said. Dylan raised her eyebrows in a totally lecherous way. “We play chess or read by the pool. Most of the time Marge is with us!”

  “Josh does not play chess,” Chris said.

  “Actually, he does. And he’s really good at it,” I said, defensive.

  Chris pointed to himself. “This is my Not-Convinced face.”

  “This is my Shut-Up face.”

  “This is my Oh-My-God-Sky-Is-Getting-It-On-With-Josh-Mitchell face,” Dylan said, looking comically scandalized.

  I threw up my hands, groaned, played my part. But inside … inside, I’d turned into something that craved moonlight and whispers and dark corners.

  With Josh, it felt inevitable. Only a matter of time. Every second we were together this past week had brought us closer to the promise I’d seen in his eyes the day I moved out: the excuses to touch each other, how close we sat, the long hugs before he went home. But whenever it seemed like Josh might go for it, I chickened out, made up excuses because I couldn’t have that mess on top of everything else … could I?

  Chris glared at me. “Flings endanger the pact.”

  “Yes, Christopher, I know.”

  He looked at me for another second, his eyes narrowed. I could see Dylan in the passenger mirror, shaking her head. Unbelievable, she mouthed. I set my elbow on the window and covered my lips so that she wouldn’t see me smile. It sort of was unbelievable. I didn’t know how long I could pretend I didn’t care about him.

  “Five more weeks,” Chris murmured, like a mantra.

  For you, I wanted to say. The fluttering feeling in my chest died.

  Judge Judy. Chain-smoking.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “Five more weeks.”

  “And did your roommate call again? Are you doing that girly thing where you try to coordinate your dorm decorations or—”

  “Chris.” I gripped the boxes of strawberries, kept my eyes on the road ahead of me.

  “—are you just gonna do your own thing? Dude, I hope your roommate has a TV because mine is all—”

  “Chris,” I said, louder.

  He looked over at me, shoved his sunglasses farther up his nose. “What?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know if I’m going, okay? Haven’t you been listening to me these past few weeks? No.” My voice was getting loud, but I couldn’t help it. “You haven’t. You’ve been in this perfectly happy I’m-getting-out-tralala world, but I’m not tralala-ing. At all.”

  I bit my lip and stared out the window, feeling like an idiot. The whole Josh ambush had turned me into an emotional pinball.

  Dylan squeezed my shoulder.

  “Sky.” Chris reached over and shut off the radio. “Everything’s gonna be fine—”

  I turned in my seat so that I was facing him. He used to be the only person in the world who got me totally and completely. But not anymore. It felt like he’d already left—more and more often, it seemed like Chris didn’t understand me at all.

  “You keep saying that, Chris. Every time I try to tell you what’s going on, you keep saying, Don’t worry, it’ll work out, blah blah blah. But it’s not working out, okay? It’s not. I mean, I live in a motel room.”

  Chris gripped the steering wheel. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your mom’s an adult woman. How many times are you just gonna drop everything when she loses her shit?”

  I stared at him. “It’s only been five yea
rs. Her soul mate died—that’s not something you bounce back from right away,” I said.

  “And you lost your dad.”

  “Thank you, Chris. Like I didn’t know that,” I snapped.

  Dylan leaned forward. “Okay, you guys—”

  He glanced over at me and shook his head. “I’ve tried to be cool about your mom, okay? I know it sucks for her and she’s been through a lot. But so have you, Sky. And lately, it almost feels like … you’re looking for an excuse to stay.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “Not cool, Chris,” Dylan said.

  He frowned, his voice softer. “I don’t know if it’s Josh or what, but you need to get the hell out, or I swear to God, you’ll end up spending the rest of your life in this shithole, just like all those girls—”

  “You mean like me?” Dylan asked, her voice suddenly hard.

  “God, Dylan, I’m not saying that,” he said, stricken.

  “Might as well,” she spit. “You know what it feels like, being friends with you guys? Do you have any idea how it sounds when you talk about how crappy this town is and how you’d rather die than end up saddled with a baby, living in a trailer park, broke as hell? Every time you say that, you’re describing my life. A life I’m actually okay with—I’m sure as hell a lot happier than either of you.”

  Chris and I sat there in stunned silence. Dylan glared at us, arms crossed, chest heaving.

  I felt the sting of her words. Every time I’d ever said anything about people who wanted to stay in Creek View, I’d been talking about her. I’d just never thought about it that way. It always seemed like she’d understood that she was mine and therefore exempt from my disdain of all things Creek View. To me, she wasn’t one of those girls. And I knew for a fact she was the girl for Chris, only he’d never tell her that.

  I turned around, forcing myself to look her in the eye.