I want to round the desk and sit next to her, but my feet are glued to the ground. I can’t move. I can’t get closer to her because my heart can’t take it.
She could’ve been my kid. Our kid.
If only.
“You haven’t gotten in any more fights, have you?” I ask, pushing away my emotions and doing my job.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Sure as ever, Ari crosses her arms in front of herself. “I’m wondering if you handled it,” she says. I wrack my brain, but for the life of me I can’t remember what I’m supposed to handle.
“Handled what?” I ask.
“You said you’d handle the pushing situation. I’m just wondering if you talked to him already.”
Oh yes! The other kid. I definitely did not talk to him yet. I can’t even remember what his name was right now. So many other things have been taking over all the space in my mind. Well, I guess not many things, just one. Her father. “I haven’t yet. But I will,” I tell her.
“You promise?” she asks, her eyes melting the coldness that’s enveloped me.
“It’s my job. I’ll handle it. But remember, no more fighting!”
“I won’t hit anyone if they don’t hit me first.” Again, the defiance in her eyes reminds me of her father, a quality that got him in trouble often but made me love him more and more each day.
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t push you again. But could you make me a promise?”
“It depends,” her words make me crack the first genuine smile since my world came crashing down.
“Fair enough. If someone does hit you, before you hit back, could you just run to me first?” I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble, but there’s not much I can do if she takes matters into her own hands.
“You know what?” she says, her small fingers touching her chin like she’s thinking really hard about my words. “You seem like a nice enough person. I’ll come to you first.”
“Great! I’ll make sure to talk to the boy today and his parents. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Thank you for trusting me.”
“My dad trusts you,” she says, her words making my smile disappear as the feeling of complete and utter heartbreak returns.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, forcing the question out of my mouth.
She gets up from her seat. “We talked about yesterday. He said if someone’s being mean to me or hits me, I could always come to you. That you’re the kind of person that’s always there for others.” Like that did me any good before. I was always there for him and he was the one who left me.
I’ll be here for his daughter. “Your father was right!” I tell her, agreeing with him feels weird, but I do it anyway.
“He also told me not to get into any fights or in trouble. I’m supposed to be a good girl. Speaking of being a good girl, I gotta get to class,” she says as she rises from the chair, waves goodbye, and lets herself out of the room.
14
AMARI
I make it through the work day without crying. Proud of myself for keeping it together all day, I say goodbye to Hannah and make my way toward the parking lot.
Right as I’m about to reach for the car door my phone rings. I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out my phone, and see Emely’s name displayed across the screen. The phone rings a couple more times in my hand as I try to figure out if I want to answer or not.
She’ll know I’m ignoring her if I don’t pick up. But if I pick up the phone and she asks how I’m doing, she’ll see right through me.
I decide that I gotta pick up and get this over with. She’s my best friend after all. “Hi,” I say answering the phone, holding it in place with my shoulder while I juggle my bag in one hand and open the door with the other.
I sit down in the driver side, throw my bag in the backseat, then hold the phone with my hand and turn on the car.
“Are you there?” she asks.
The Bluetooth transfers the call to the car the moment I turn it on. “Yes. Sorry! I was getting in my car and didn’t have enough hands.”
“So you missed everything I just said?” she replies and I can tell she’s annoyed.
I nod though she can’t see me. “I did.”
“Okay, well. I’ll be at your place this weekend.”
“What?” I don’t bother pulling out of the parking lot while I have this conversation with my best friend. May as well stay focused on the task at hand.
“I got the time off… so I’m coming over to you!” she shouts.
“Yeah, I read your message,” I tell her, trying to sound excited to see my best friend but knowing that the moment she gets here… she’ll know. Plus, we have the school dance coming up this Sunday.
“You clearly need me there.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve been your friend for years. I can tell when you’re lying to me. When you’re trying to ignore me. When you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not…”
“Don’t even try to lie to me. I won’t force you to tell me everything that’s going on over the phone, but you gotta tell me something. Once I get there, we can eat ice cream, watch TV, and talk about everything.”
“Christian’s here,” I tell her, finding that I have no choice but to come clean. Despite how much I think I don’t want her here right now… that I want to process this on my own, the truth is I need her. I need a friend, especially once who understands what this discovery does to me.
How much it hurts.
How much it breaks me.
The silence on the other end of the line seems to go on forever before she speaks again. “How are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Amari—” she starts, but I stop her.
“I’m doing as well as I can be. There’s more to it than I’m willing to tell you over the phone. It’s just too much to dive into.”
“Alright,” she says and I can hear her sigh. Here we go again, she must be thinking. “Did you see him?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did he see you?” she asks and I realize that I really don’t want to have this conversation right now. Not when today’s gone by relatively well.
“That he did.”
“Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” With all the questions Emely is asking, she should’ve gone for a career as a journalist.
“Yeah, didn’t really feel like talking. Couldn’t with how much I was crying,” I tell her. “Listen, I’ll let you go for now, but I’ll see you in two days and I’ll try to call you later.” Emely’s smart enough to know when I want a conversation to end. She knows why too, she knows me enough to know if I keep talking I’ll just bawl my eyes out. I hate how fragile I am when it comes to him.
“Call me if you can… if you want to. You know I’m here for you,” she replies.
“I know.”
“I love you, Amari,” she tells me. I know she does.
“I love you too,” I tell her.
“See you soon.”
“See you,” I reply and then hang up the phone.
Shifting from park to drive, I pull out of the school lot. I turn on the radio and start blasting music… increasing the volume of the radio, I sing along. I belt out the lyrics to every song that plays, holding on to anything that will keep the other thoughts away. A love song starts to play and I instantly switch over to the next station.
As I pull over in front of my house, I remember that I have to pick up some groceries before I’m stuck ordering out again. Plus, with Emely coming, the fridge needs to be stocked. That girl can eat.
I drive away from my house and toward the grocery store. It takes me about an hour to get there. When I park the car, I feel my palms becoming sweaty. My mind immediately wonders what the chances are of me running in to him here. I convince myself that the odds are pretty low, that he wouldn’t be going to the grocery store on a Monday anyway.
It takes me twenty minutes to
grab everything I need from the store and get out. The grocery store has changed owners and the cashiers are so young I’m sure that they were probably in elementary or middle school when I was graduating high school, so I didn’t recognize anyone there and no one recognized me.
I load all the bags into the trunk of my car and drive away.
I’m ten minutes away from my house when the radio shuts itself off. I keep driving, wondering how that’s even possible when suddenly the lights on the dashboard turn off. Out of fear that something’s really wrong with my car, I take the first exit off the highway. It’s not the one I normally take, but it’ll still get me to the same place, just locally.
When I leave the off ramp, I pull over on the side of the main road. Shutting off the car, I get off and start walking all the way around it. I try to figure out what could possibly be wrong with it. I burst out laughing at myself because I know nothing about cars and wouldn’t be able to figure out what was wrong if my life depended on it. I mean, all I know is that the radio and lights are turning themselves off.
“Whatever it is it probably isn’t serious,” I say to myself out loud, hoping to speak that into existence. Then, I get back in the car, put my seatbelt on, and turn the key.
“Are you kidding me?!” I shout when I realize the car isn’t turning on. “Maybe I shouldn’t have shut it off in the first place,” I tell myself, like that’s going to help me now.
I try turning the key again and again but nothing happens. No clicking sound. No indication that the car even realizes there’s a key in there.
Nope. Nothing.
I take the key out and try again.
There’s a small sound like a tapping way in the background, but after a few seconds nothing happens.
Taking the keys out of the car entirely, I get out of the car again and look around, for what? I have no freaking clue. This isn’t an old car, it shouldn’t be giving me troubles, it never has before. But I guess when it rains it pours, so why not keep adding complications to my life? Why not break down on me when I’m not feeling my best?
I get back in the car again, throw up a small prayer, and try the key one more time. When the car’s response is nothing, I become more and more frustrated.
Screw this.
I search through my bag for my phone so that I can google whatever the nearest mechanic shop or tow truck or whatever is. Triple A doesn’t really come out here, Forest Pines being a small town and all, and even if it did, it would take a couple hours for them to arrive. I don’t have time for that.
Did I mention that when it rains it pours? Well, let me say it again… life has a way of kicking you while you’re down because the moment I grab my phone it does what my radio and dashboard lights did, it shuts off. Literally the moment I unlock it, it shows the low battery symbol and then goes dark.
I try turning it on again, but the damn thing refuses to come back to life. I throw my head back on the headrest and laugh. “Seriously?!” I ask whoever is sending all this bad karma my way.
I stay in the car for a few minutes trying to figure out my options. I guess I could also wait for someone to drive by and help me out. I know how to get home from here. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen. I could go home and use the house phone my parents don’t want me to get rid of, while my phone charges, to call a tow truck.
That’s what I’ll do, I decide. I’ll just go home and call a tow truck so they pick up my car and maybe figure out what’s wrong with it.
With my decision made, I open the trunk and take out the shopping bag with the ice cream. Today doesn’t need to be made worse by having to eat melted ice cream. Nope, it’ll just have to make the trek with me. I’m sure that it can survive the walk to my house. It’s fall anyway, how hot can it really be?
I lock the doors and start walking in the direction of my house.
CHRISTIAN
I take the exit off the highway and reduce my speed. It’s 6:00 pm and after practicing for three hours, I’m ready to take a shower and go to sleep. Luckily, Ari is at her grandma’s tonight and she’s taking her to school tomorrow morning. I can literally just go straight to the shower and then bed. With that in mind, I decide to take the highway home instead of my usual route.
Taking the exit toward my house, I slow down when I see a car on the right side of the road. There are no hazard lights on and as I drive by it, I glance in its direction to make sure everyone’s okay. I realize there aren’t any passengers in the car, which immediately tells me that someone’s left it behind for whatever reason. Maybe they ran out of gas?
I pull over to the side of the road in front of the vehicle and get out of my truck. I do a full walk around the vehicle to see if there’s any physical damage to it, but I don’t see any. The tires look fine and there aren’t any leaks, so it’s either they ran out of gas, battery stopped working, or something I can’t diagnose by just staring into it. At any rate, no one’s here, so I can’t be of any help.
Getting back in my truck, I pull back onto the main road.
“Siri, call Mom,” I instruct.
The phone rings three times and I can hear it through the speakers of my truck. “Hi sweetie,” she says answering.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Are you calling about Ari?”
“You’ve got my biggest treasure in your hands,” I tell her. Ari is the most important person in my life and any second I’m not with her, I’m praying she’s okay. She’s my everything.
“And I take care of her very well,” she replies.
“What have you guys done today?” I ask, picking up speed.
“I got her at school…” she starts, pausing enough to make me guess the next part of her sentence. “Then we went for ice cream.” I knew it!
“You can’t just keep taking her out for ice cream, Mom! She’s gonna get cavities or something.”
“Once a week seems like a good number of times to get ice cream with Grandma,” my mom retorts.
“I’ll make sure to blame anything the dentist says on you.”
“For my grandbaby, I’ll take the blame.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Sure, one sec,” I hear my mom call Ari and while I wait I realize it’s started to drizzle and the sun is nowhere to be seen.
By the time Ari gets on the phone, the drizzle has turned into a full-blown downpour and there are nothing but clouds in the sky. Turning on the window wipers, I pay close attention to the road ahead.
“Hi, Daddy,” my daughter’s voice comes across the speaker.
“Hey princess, how are you?”
“I’m good. Grandma took me out for ice cream,” she says joyfully.
“I know, I’m going to have to stop letting Grandma pick you up,” I tell her, trying to get a reaction out of her.
“Please don’t. I like it when Grandma picks me up.”
“With all the ice cream she gets you, I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” I tell her. As I drive, I spot a woman with a bag in their hand walking on the right side of the road. I bet that she is the one with the car I ran into earlier. “Baby girl, I’ll call you as soon as I get home. Remember to behave.”
“Always do, Daddy.”
“Talk to you later, I love you.”
“I love you too.” I hang up the phone and drive up closer to the woman walking on the side of the road.
Rolling down my passenger side window, I honk the horn. “Hey, is that your car back there?” I shout. She stops walking but doesn’t answer, so I try again, louder this time. “Is that your car back there?” I’m sure a stranger slowing down in the middle of the night next to a woman who’s clearly alone and in the rain doesn’t sound ideal, but I’m just trying to help.
She turns around and when her eyes meet mine, I know why she didn’t respond to me in the first place.
15
AMARI
“Is that your car back there?” he asks, repeating himself. When I hear his voice
again, I know that I didn’t mistake it the first time. I can recognize his voice anywhere, even now.
I take a deep breath then turn around. I hate that I can’t refuse it. Ignore him. I hate that even despite how much he’s hurt me, I can’t stop myself from answering to his voice.
If he had called me before, back in college, I would’ve picked up.
I would’ve let him explain.
“Amari,” my names escapes his lips the moment he sees my face.
I nod, confirming that it is indeed me. Then, I keep walking. I’ve gotta be stronger than the pull he has on me. I’m older now, I should be wiser. Wise enough to know that he’s no good for me; he told me that himself years ago.
The rain picks up its speed like it’s taking cues from my heart. I guess it’s my fault for saying when it rains it pours because it’s definitely pouring right now.
“Amari,” he says again and from the proximity of his voice and the headlights of his car, I can tell he’s following me. There are only a few more minutes left of this walk, fifteen minutes tops, then I’m home. Then I can get the car fixed and brought back to my house. I can fix everything. Everything but me. Us. This.
“Dammit, Amari. It’s raining. Let me give you a ride.”
I shake my head. No, thanks. I’d rather walk through glass barefoot than get into a car with him. It’s ultimately the same effect, pain and hurt.
“Please. You’re walking on the side of the road, which isn’t safe. It’s pouring. You could get sick or hit by a car. Just let me take you home,” he begs.
“I’m good,” I respond and keep walking along the road, water hitting me straight in the face.
“I know you hate me, but let me at least give you a ride home. You can hate me from inside the car.” Hate him. I don’t hate him. I wish I did. Everything would be a lot easier if I hated him. But what I feel for him is very far from hate.
“No!” I yell back, hoping that gets him to back off.
Just Because of You Page 7
