Recalling the area, he set out for the destination. He took a short cut down the Boulevard instead of driving down Maple Street. Once he arrived, he alighted from his Celica and walked up the walkway to Lincoln’s house.
Shortly after knocking on the door, a young girl answered the door. This had to be his cousin, Lena. Marcus recognized her from the photo Lincoln kept on him all the time. She looked like she could be fifteen or sixteen with long jet black hair and long bangs falling just below her eyebrows. Stunning green eyes, which were emphasized through heavily applied kohl eyeliner, peeked out from beneath the fringe of her bangs. Oversized clothing engulfed her small frame, hanging shapelessly onto her bony shoulders and hips. Definitely must be a phase.
“Hello, I’m Marcus. Is Lincoln home?”
“Sure. Would you like a drink while you wait?” Lena offered, letting him in. The kitchen was located immediately to their right.
“Please. Water would be great.”
It looked as though a wall had been knocked down to give the feel of a larger space. There was nothing to separate the living room from the kitchen aside from a plush gray carpet. It definitely had a more personable vibe without the wall in the way, making it easier to communicate freely while preparing a meal.
Lena crossed the polished hardwood floor of the kitchen and reached up into the cupboard for a glass, a small area of her forearm was exposed as her shirt sleeve inched back.
She must have felt his steady gaze, because she self-consciously pulled her shirt down to cover the exposed patches of psoriasis on her lower back and arms. When she turned around to face Marcus, he awkwardly pretended to look at an issue of Vogue magazine, addressed to Yvonne M. Mitchell, on the counter. Although it was nearly impossible to discern underneath all of that mascara and the strategically placed canopy of bangs covering her eyes, he could have sworn she rolled her eyes. Smooth, Marcus. Very subtle.
“Lena, dear, I just heard the dryer timer go off. Would you please take the load—oh my, I'm sorry. I didn't know we had company.”
Marcus straightened his posture, trying very hard not to look as uncoordinated and as out of place as he’d felt, but his clumsiness was unequivocal. He fumbled with the grace of an orangutan to place the cell phone on the counter. “Ma'am, I'm Marcus. I work with Lincoln. He left his phone at work.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Marcus. I’m Mrs. Mitchell, Lincoln’s mother. Thank you for returning the phone. That was awfully nice of you. I hope it wasn't too much trouble.” She depressed a button on the intercom. “Lincoln, darling, there's someone here to see you.”
“I'll be right down, Ma.”
A few minutes later, Lincoln came traipsing through the kitchen entrance with that distinctive lackadaisical gait of his. “Hey, dude.”
“Excuse me?” his mother admonished.
“Sorry, Ma. Hello Marcus.”
Lena handed Marcus a glass of ice water and then returned to the cupboards to remove the dinner plates to set the table. Frequently, she swiped unruly tresses out of her face.
“Oh darling, I wish you'd cut your bangs or pull your hair back with a hair tie. I don't know how you can see anything with all that hair in your face.”
Lena tugged at her sleeve, securing it through clenched fists. A nervous habit. “Grams, I like it. It's really no bother.”
“You know what,” Lincoln said, giving the counter a jaunty tap, “I like it and, deep down, I think you dig it, too, Ma.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of photos.
“Where did you get those?”
“From the photo album. Look, kiddo, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,” Lincoln said, winking.
Lena took the photo and smiled. “Is that you, Grams?”
“You bet, kiddo.”
Lincoln's mother clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling like she was seventeen again. In the photo, she had long, thick sepia hair neatly straightened, but she, too, had long bangs draped over her green eyes.
Mrs. Mitchell playfully slapped Lincoln with the photo. “Mr. Detective.”
“Come on, Ma. She's not hurting anyone.”
“Have you seen the youngsters at her school? She's the only one who dresses or wears her hair like this,” Mrs. Mitchell remarked.
“I'd rather she express herself uniquely than blend in to fit in. Besides, how did you feel when your folks were on your case about your hair and clothes?”
“Point taken, dear.” She cupped Lena's face. “Be who you are, sweetheart—even if it means covering your pretty face.”
“Leans, I think that's as good as it gets. Take off before she changes her mind.”
“Laundry first, young lady. Then, you may resume your great escape.”
Lena hugged Lincoln and then headed to the basement to fold laundry.
Mrs. Mitchell checked on her pot roast in the oven. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Marcus?”
“That would be lovely, Mrs. Mitchell, but I really should get going.”
“I'll walk you out,” Lincoln offered.
Once outside, Lincoln mimicked, “That would be lovely...when did you get so proper?”
“Give me a break, asshole.”
Lincoln laughed. He scrolled through the call history and whistled. “Ingrid called me seven times. My ass would have been grass if you didn’t bring this. I owe you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Hey man, to be honest, I’m not even sure if it’s worth it. I mean, getting into anything heavy since I’m enlisting.”
“That’s another day; today, you enjoy it like it’s your last.”
“Sage advice, Marc. I don’t care what other people say about you.”
“Always the comedian,” Marcus tried to deadpan, but couldn’t contain his laughter. Lincoln always made him crack up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, man.”
Both Kelly and Amber loafed around Kelly’s house, completely bored. In spite of having homework, they thumbed through various issues of Glamour magazine, styled each other’s hair, and danced to their favorite Green Day songs, blaring through the speakers. Three hours later, they were still messing around, looking for something to watch on television.
Since it was a school night, Kelly wasn’t allowed to have company but they had a huge Algebra exam the following morning. So Kelly’s dad had made an exception, based on their combined need to study. Studying that would have taken place had he been present to supervise. But, he was working late again, and these were fifteen year old girls who were brazenly well into their rebellious phase.
“What does your dad do again? It seems like he’s never here,” Amber inquired.
“You know, I’m not really sure what his technical title is, but he’s a scientist and he works for Prime Technologies,” Kelly answered.
“Well, it must be cool to have the house all to yourself.”
“If you say so.” Kelly would have given anything to have both parents around more.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Let’s see what we have in the fridge.” Kelly removed a container with the words, DON’T TOUCH, sprawled across it in bold block letters. “Want some?”
“Kelly, it says…”
“I know what it says,” Kelly replied, digging in with a spoon. “My mother bought it for my dad. Nothing says ‘I’m sorry I cheated on you’ like dessert.”
Amber didn’t know how to respond to that; she just listened intently, allowing Kelly to vent.
“It’s been going on for a while now, coming home late, the unexplained absences…you know she says she loves my dad, but then she flakes on him at the last minute and says she has to work,” Kelly complained in between mouthfuls. “I mean, she works at a shoe store. Give me a break.”
“Yeah, lame,” Amber commiserated.
“You sure you don’t want any?” Kelly swayed a spoonful in Amber’s face, tempting her with custard goodness.
Amber guiltily accepted a piece, reasoning there was a
lready a gaping hole. What difference did it make to take one more piece?
“Mmmmm.” Amber relished the dessert, catching some of the custard that slid down her chin and licked it off of her fingers. Then her eyes widened. “Kelly, there’s oranges in this. Aren’t you allergic?”
“I thought about that, too,” Kelly replied insouciantly still nibbling on the custard. “I had some earlier,” she confessed, “and my throat hasn’t swollen up, yet. I’m thinking I’m in the clear.”
Back in the living room after indulging on the forbidden dessert, Amber toggled up and down the viewer guide to find something to watch.
“Turn to MTV, Road Rules is on,” Kelly suggested.
“The guide says music videos are on until seven.”
“Wanna make a bet?”
“Ten bucks.”
“You're on.”
Amber switched stations to MTV and the Road Rules cast were climbing a wall to retrieve their next roadmap clue. “How do you do that and don't tell me good instincts?”
“I have no idea, Amber. I've just always been good at guessing.”
Head lights beamed over the living room as a car pulled into the driveway.
“Quick, where’s your Algebra book?”
Amber dug through her backpack.
“Hurry up,” Kelly urged, turning off the television.
“I’m trying, it’s stuck on something.” Amber struggled to pull it free. They heard the engine shut off.
“Omigod, I’m so not in a mood for a lecture.”
“Got it!” Amber flopped the book open and the two of them huddled around it, pretending to concentrate hard on the quadratic equations and slopes.
Seven minutes passed and Amber got up to see what was holding Kelly’s mom up. She peeked out the window. “I see your mom, but who is she talking to?”
Kelly jumped up and checked; she instantly recognized the turquoise Celica. “Urgh, it’s her friend, Martin. No, it’s more hoity-toity than that—Marcellus. Yeah, I think that’s his name.”
“I wonder what they’re talking about.”
“Who knows? I wish he’d go away.”
“Kelly!”
“He’s always around, Amber. If he’d just give my mom some breathing room, she might be able to work things out with my dad.”
“You really think something’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Kelly closed the blinds, rubbing her temples. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
Inside Kelly’s room, Amber perused Kelly’s CD collection. “What do you want to listen to?”
No response. Kelly was out for the count. Amber settled on something whimsical and plunked down beside Kelly, shaking the bed in earthquake fashion, but still no movement from Kelly. She must be tired. The bed felt really comfortable and Amber felt herself drifting off, too.
4
September 9, 1997
Amber closed her locker, dropping off her textbooks in exchange for her lunch. She crossed the hallway to enter the cafeteria. Kelly waved her over to an empty table by the windows.
“How did the test go?” Amber asked.
“I wasn't here.”
“No, why not?”
“It was weird. The morning after we studied, I wasn't feeling well. So my mom let me stay home. It was awful,” Kelly replied. “You weren't here, either?”
“Nope. Out sick.”
Kelly drifted off, Amber could tell she hadn't been listening for the last minute or so. “Earth to Kelly.”
“I’m sorry, girl. I was just thinking.”
“Everything okay?”
“Five by five,” Kelly said with a smirk, reaching in her backpack. “Aha!” Kelly beamed triumphantly dangling a necklace. “I’ve been meaning to give this back to you. I finally fixed the clasp. Sorry, it took so long.”
“Omigod, you’re the best,” Amber squeaked with delight. Then Amber’s glee vanished, her face ashen as if she might vomit. Amber tugged at the napkin dispenser and shoved a wad of napkins at Kelly. “Kelly, your nose.”
Kelly took the napkins and pressed them against her nose to stop the flow of blood. “Urgh, thanks, girl,” she said, swinging her legs over the bench to get up. “I’ll be back.”
Amber fastened the necklace around her neck, watching the cafeteria entrance every now and then for the return of her friend. The nosebleeds were a recent development, but Kelly waved it off like it was no big deal. That was the cool thing about Kelly; she never got hung up about things that were out of her control. Amber wished she could be as carefree as Kelly. She could stand to be less stilted, but she always played it safe. It was hard to feel untroubled when you had a tendency to worry and overthink everything. She stroked the turquoise cat’s eye disk of the necklace, wondering if her mother had the same problem. It was improbable. In photos, her mother appeared optimistic, but phlegmatic, like she didn’t have a worry in the world.
Amber missed her mother and thought about her often. She wondered what her mother would have been like and what type of advice she would have imparted had she been there in the flesh. Amber longed to be held and reassured that it was okay to be herself—safe and predictable—even if it meant going unnoticed or missing out on adventures that hovered outside of her comfort zone.
“That’s really nice, Amber,” Eric said, looking over her shoulder at the necklace she held in her hand.
Amber was stunned that he knew her by name. They didn’t run with the same crowds. She was introverted with a proclivity of fading into the background, whereas Eric was popular and handsome, naturally immersed in the spotlight without even trying.
“Your name is Amber, right?” he asked, hesitant that he’d called her by the wrong name.
“Oh, yeah, it’s Amber.” She looked down at her necklace again. “It was my mother’s necklace…She died when I was four in a car wreck during a blizzard.”
“I heard. Carrington Woods?”
Amber nodded.
“That’s awful...I’m sorry for your loss.” He knelt down, mesmerized by the cat’s eye. “It’s beautiful. That shade sort of reminds me of the ocean.”
“Doesn’t it?” She wondered if that’s what her mom thought of when she’d worn it.
He smiled and opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a girl from across the cafeteria.
“Hey, Eric what are you doing over there?” Sherry screamed before taking a sip of her sparkling water.
“I guess I should go because I told her I’d have lunch with her.”
“Oh, right—of course,” Amber stuttered.
“Well, I’ll see you around,” Eric said, smiling as he turned to walk towards Sherry’s table.
Amber was ecstatic until she overheard Sherry ask him why he was talking to a weirdo like Amber.
“No, she’s not weird at all. She’s actually kinda cool.”
“Whatever, who cares,” Sherry retorted, taking a bite of her grilled chicken salad. Eric looked at Amber wondering if she had heard their conversation. Amber glanced over at Eric and smiled, indicating that all was well. Then, she turned her focus back to her lunch, trying to forget Sherry’s insults.
“Hey girl, you won’t believe what I just heard.” Kelly stopped, taking in Amber’s sullen face. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh its nothing,” Amber said, casting a look across the cafeteria.
Kelly followed her gaze to Sherry. “What did that bitch say now?” Hands clenched into fists, Kelly started in Sherry’s direction.
“Kelly, no, really, it’s fine. Nothing I’m not use to by now.”
“That doesn’t make it right. Besides, I’d love to wipe that smug look off her face. I mean who does she think she is?”
“The most popular girl in school.”
“That was rhetorical and not the point. Anyway, I bet I can change that.”
“How?”
“Easy. How popular do you think she’ll be with a shaved head?”
Amber laughed, milk spouting
from her nose. Once the bout subsided, she said, “Don’t sink to her level. I’m fine, Kelly.”
“You’re probably right. Anyway, on to more important developments…was that the luscious Eric Wooley flirting with you?” Only Kelly could go from intensely protective to light and bubbly in two seconds flat.
“No, he wasn’t flirting. He was just being nice.” Then she added with more conviction. “It was nothing. Didn’t you have some gossip to tell me?”
“Huh? I don’t know. Who cares?” A tad forgetful, too. Kelly continued, “Eric is hot and he was talking to you for five whole minutes.”
“What is your obsession with this topic?”
“Call it a woman’s intuition. You can’t fault me for wanting my friend to be happy.”
“Yes, but it’s nothing to get excited about because he was just admiring my mom’s necklace.”
“For five minutes? I think he was just using it as an excuse to talk to you. Do you really think he stayed over here this long to discuss jewelry? I’m telling you, he totally likes you.”
“I don’t want to read into it. Again, I think he was just being nice.”
He definitely wasn’t like the rest of his clique, but there was no reason for Amber to go crazy over a short conversation. Still, she smiled to herself considering the possibilities.
Part II
5
April 7, 2008
Eleven years had passed since Amber had last seen Kelly. It seemed the transient lifestyle was not quite done with Kelly. Her father had been transferred, again, this time to a Prime Technologies division in Milwaukee. The two girls, who felt more like sisters than friends, sobbed while promising to remain friends regardless of the miles that separated them.
Relics and Runes Anthology Page 154
