by Owner
“I got credit for time served, have to do community service, got my license taken away; shall I continue?”
I cocked my head. “There’s more?”
“I’m doing you a favor. Don’t let your tidy little life get mixed up in this mess.”
Now he’d pissed me off, treating me as if I didn’t have a brain of my own. “Are you always such an ass when you’re doing people favors?”
“It would seem so.”
“Why is it okay for Jax to be nice to you and help you but not me?”
Deadpan stare.
“Oh, because she’s caring and generous and I’m a trust-funding snob? Whatever, screw this, I’m out of here.”
I flipped a fast one-eighty, then strode briskly back to my car parked at the curb. My biggest fear being an ankle giving way in my heels, and not the guy on a bike who whizzed by me as I stepped off the curb. “Crap!” I halted in place, drew my arms instinctively to my face. The guy swerved around me but an oncoming car caused him to swerve back, overcorrecting right toward my car. His beach-cruiser handle bars clipped my side view mirror. I heard him say, “Shit,” yet he kept going. I stood in the street watching him pedal away, getting smaller as he cruised down the street. This is what happens when you park on a freaking public street! When I turned to check the mirror, I found Travis standing next to me.
“Are you okay?” His hand on my arm made me jump. He pulled it away in reaction, chose to examine the mirror instead. “It was probably already a little loose,” he said handling the wobbly metal edge. “I can fix it.” Without a glance my way, he walked past, heading back to the house. “Wait on the porch,” he shouted back.
I was in no position to argue at that point, so I did as I was told and flopped down on the porch swing, somewhat pouty, and stared up at the cloudy sky. Travis disappeared into the house, came out a moment later wearing a shirt—I guess he does own one—holding a sweatshirt and a tool box.
“In case you’re cold,” he said, tossing it to me. He certainly was a polite ass.
I didn’t move when I saw he was done. He joined me on the swing, setting the toolbox on the porch. We both faced forward.
“Sorry,” he said to the street.
“Thank you,” I answered to the grass. “For the mirror, I mean.”
We were quiet for a long time. I had no idea what he was thinking about, then something struck me. “You said ‘us.’”
He turned his body to me. I noted a fresh scent that I guessed was his hair. “What?”
“The sign spinner. You said, ‘didn’t even see us coming.’ Who was in the car with you?”
What appeared to be a cocktail of reluctance, anger, and embarrassment entered his eyes and poured over his face before he answered. “That would be my ex-fiancé. I don’t want to talk about her. But all that shit I told you about me…it’s all true. And there’s more.”
He tried to look away, but I tilted my head, gave him a curious look until he met my gaze again.
“Nothing like that, personal stuff, you know? I think that’s why I treated you that way. It’s just not a good idea for either of us.”
“To be friends?”
He turned his attention back to the street. “Are you sure you’re not using me as a distraction from whatever problems you’re trying to avoid?”
“I thought you said I had a tidy life? Besides, what do you know about my problems?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. But I know you’re pissed at Jax. And about your grandmother being sick.”
“There’s way more to it than that.”
“So you should understand that I’m another issue.”
I stared ahead for a long time, considering what he was saying. He was right. I just met this guy, so why the hell would I put in this much effort for someone so risky? Two thoughts had poked at me. First, there was something about Travis that kept pulling me to him. And second, if Jax trusts him and I trust Jax, then maybe that should be enough. And if all that were true, then I shouldn’t be pissed at Jax about my grandmother either. Finally I said, “I don’t see it that way. You are not what you did. You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you should be banished from the nice list.”
It was obvious he was resisting a grin. “I don’t know,” he said.
“You might be right about me looking for a distraction, but are you saying you’re not interested?”
“I didn’t say that.” This time he let his smile through, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “But I also don’t want to take advantage of the situation…or make a bad decision. I can’t afford that.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Why don’t we settle on friends?”
I stayed a while longer that day, both of us quietly next to each other. Then I filled him in on my grandmother’s request. We stared at the street more, not in an awkward silence kind of way, but more peaceful. We exchanged numbers, and I left. He’d walked me to my car. Nothing happened, leaving me disappointed as I drove off wondering how long he’d want to keep this friends thing going. But when I arrived home, a text popped up on my phone. Talk to you soon.
And we did.
A lot.
We texted almost every day, sometimes spoke on the phone, about anything and everything, but it was all very innocent and casual. That didn’t mean my thoughts were.
Now, as I sit here and watch him eat, I can’t help pondering what those lips taste like. I may never find out, but his presence alone brings comfort.
“So have you signed the papers with the lawyer yet?” Travis says after taking a swig of water.
Not only was I giving all of my grandmother’s money away, she wanted me to start immediately. This meant I had to be given power of attorney over her money and was added to her checking account. “Yes. Signing those papers was more difficult than I’d imagined. The whole thing was so surreal.”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t like I was gaining my grandmother’s estate. It felt more like I was saying goodbye to her, signing her death warrant.”
Travis wipes his mouth with a napkin, reaches over and touches my hand resting on the table, sending a warm flow up my arm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But it says something that she picked you.”
“Yeah, that she wants to torture me.”
“Maybe she wants you to get something out of this whole thing.”
I open my purse and pull out a small notebook. “What I’m getting so far is that I don’t know anything about her. Look at this list I made of possible donation areas.” I set the open notebook down in front of him and watch while he reads:
Grandmother: France, art, cancer
Possible areas of donation: Museums, Cancer Research
He looks up at me in confusion.
“Pretty pathetic, huh?” I say.
“It’s sad that you and your grandmother don’t know each other very well, but you don’t seem to be getting the point of this.”
I lean back in my chair, fold my arms. Travis met my grandmother once when he went with Jax to Oak Grove looking for some community service hours. I don’t see how one visit makes him an expert. “And you do?”
“The letter you mentioned, do you still have it?”
I point to the notebook. “In the back.” The letter is folded, slipped in between the last page and the back flap. He flips to the end, grabs the letter and opens it. I’d already read it to him on the phone. Rose sent it to me right after she told me about her will. An actual letter in the mail! The tone was half old Rose, half new Rose. She wanted to thank me for agreeing to her request, which I actually don’t remember. Did I have a choice? She said she wished things could have been different between us, but didn’t mention that we could still try to make up for lost time. It was as though she saw the end right in front of her. It made me remember the times when I was so young all I wanted from her was a hug and a treat. Or even a loving smile or a “how’s my little sweetie pie” comment the way other grandmother
s did.
“Listen to this part,” Travis says holding the letter. “Sage, I know this won’t be easy at first, but I have faith that in the end you’ll be better for it. I hope this undertaking will open your eyes to a world beyond what we’ve been living. Beyond what I so selfishly engrained into your father, and then into you. If you need answers, look inside yourself for direction.” He looked up at me, waiting for a connection that wasn’t there. “Don’t you see?” he said after a moment. “She wants you to pick things that mean something to you, not to her.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure how to do that.”
“Sure you do. It’s just difficult to face because it’s different from everything you’ve known.”
“You’re right. This whole thing makes my brain hurt. But it’s not only that. She’s different now too. My grandmother never spoke or wrote in that way before. It scares me.” And it makes me sad. It hurts me that impending death, and not her family, has brought such a drastic change in Rose.
My eyes meet Travis’s and tell him that this is the part where he holds me, makes me believe everything will be all right. But my friend gives me the closed mouth buck up grin instead. Then he says, “My father became a very different person before he died, too. But he was very bitter, pushed us all away until the very end.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing I’m being selfish and self-absorbed. Since the beginning most of our conversations have been about my problems. “That must have been so difficult.”
“It was, but it was much harder on my mother and little brother.” He waves it off like it’s an intrusive fly, which makes me understand exactly why we never talk about his problems. “So back to the issue at hand,” he says. “I think you need to come up with a new list of possible donation areas.”
I smile and say, “Now who is being the distraction for whom?”
He scratches the short hairs on his chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But don’t we have to leave?”
My eyes widen as I exhale. “Crap. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 20 - EMILY
Parties made me nervous even before James’s accident. Nevertheless, they were our whole world in high school and college, even after that horrible night.
The three of us had our routine—always arrive together after getting ready at Jax’s house, and always leave together, no matter what.
Usually we’d stick together for a few minutes upon arrival. Then Sage would be whisked away by some hot guy, only to return later leaving the poor sap with cartoon hearts in his eyes. Jax would spend the evening talking to everyone: popular kids, nerds, loners, stoners. I’d followed her around trying to join in the conversation, marveling at her confidence. Sometimes I ended up playing with the family pets or helping the hosts clean up messes so they wouldn’t get busted by their parents.
One night, after I turned sixteen, we went to a party down in Chula Vista. We practically had to drag Sage there. She vowed that no party south of Coronado was worth going to. Midway through the night, I found myself sitting at the kitchen counter petting Elvis, the family cat.
“Better watch it; he scratches,” a voice behind me said. I turned to find Bradley, a trumpet player in our school band. Tall with tight dark curls hugging his head, he wasn’t bad looking for a band geek. He joined me at the counter where we talked, about trumpets, a lot, and how underappreciated they are. He was friends with Shane, the guy having the party, and was staying the night. When I was sufficiently bored and searching the room with my eyes for Elvis, he asked if I wanted to go back to a room to see his trumpet.
I sat on the bed and listened to the loudest most annoying sound I’d ever heard while trying to look entertained. That was tough since his red face and puffy cheeks made him less attractive. After a few moments, he must have noticed how pained I looked because he busted out laughing. “Geez, I didn’t realize how loud that would be.” He fell on the bed, as we both giggled and exchanged shy awkward grins. He told me I had the cutest smile in the world, and then he covered it with his trumpeter’s lips. It scared me, making me nervous at first. But I hadn’t kissed that many boys, and definitely not in a bedroom like Sage had. So the excitement outweighed my fear.
We went at it for a while, soft and slow. We scooted back against the pillows, almost lying down, his tall frame hovering over me. I thought about his hands, which were by his sides most of the time. I wondered what it would feel like to have them touch my body since I’d never gotten that far with a boy before. All I could think about then were his hands. And it’s the hands that I remember most when I try to recall that night. I wasn’t going to make the first move, so I willed them to touch me. As if he’d read my mind, his right hand landed on my ribs and slid up to my breast, sending a wave of electricity through me. Our kisses grew frantic. My breath caught; I let out a moan. Maybe I even said something. That part of the memory is always fuzzy. Did I say, “Yes” at that moment?
God, it had all felt so good. I didn’t want it to stop. When his hand slid back down, I thought our moment was over. I was disappointed, but also a little relieved it hadn’t gone further. Then suddenly his full weight was on top of me, my shirt sliding up, his hand now running over the lace on my bra. Confusion poured over me as my hand went instinctively to his wrist. I tried to pull his arm out, catching only resistance. His lips went to my neck, kissing it softly. “It’s okay; don’t be nervous,” he whispered.
In my head I kept thinking, this has to stop now. I’m not ready for this. When I found my voice, I said only, “Bradley, don’t.”
He didn’t hear me, or he ignored me. He pulled at my bra, exposing my breast, and brought his lips to me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I wondered if I should scream. Everything had happened so fast. My body wriggled beneath him, then I heard the slow creak of the door, the music filtering in.
“Shit, sorry.” I saw Shane over Bradley’s shoulder as he eased the door shut.
Why hadn’t I said anything? I was so embarrassed and ashamed that I thought I’d wanted this. “Please, stop, Bradley. We can’t do this.” I felt sick as my gut wrenched beneath him.
When his hand came out of my top, a tiny bit of relief surfaced. I’d gotten through to him. He was going to stop. But then his hand slid between our bodies, unbuttoning his pants. The sound of his zipper sent a chill down my spine. His hardness pressed against me as his hand eased my skirt up. I believed in that moment not only was this my fault, but I wasn’t fighting. Not nearly hard enough. I’d let him intimidate me, control me, so easily. I had to do something. I had to fight. My pulse raced along with my mind.
“Brad! Stop!” I pounded my fist on his arm. His long body was so thick and heavy. “I said, stop!” Then a flash in my brain. Maybe Shane would come back, or possibly someone else. Hadn’t there been another person in the hallway?
“C’mon, Emily,” Brad said intimately, as if I wasn’t begging him to stop. “Please don’t say, no. This is too good.”
With one hand, I pulled my skirt down, fighting against his grip. I used the other to push on his chest. “Get off me!”
Another door creek, this time quick. “Hey!” I prayed I hadn’t imagined the voice booming into the room as the door hit the side wall. “Get the fuck off her!”
Bradley leaned to the side, turning his face and shoulders toward the door. Jax stood, her short frame seemingly a tower over the bed, face dressed in fury. Then she jammed the heel of her boot into Bradley’s hip, forcing him off me and over the edge. When his body hit the floor he said, “What the hell?”
I pulled myself up on the bed as Jax hopped up and over to Brad on the ground. She smacked him with a random shoe that was on the floor. “What the hell? I’ll ask you the same thing,” she said leaning down right into his face. Then each word pounded out along with a wailing shoe hammer to any open space on Bradley. “You! Piece! Of! Shit!” Bradley wrapped an arm around his head and took it.
“Stop, Jax. It was my
fault.”
Jax bolted upright, eyes strained in angry slits. “What the fuck did you say?” That scared me almost more than Bradley did. I sank and shrugged.
“Get your ass out of here now and go find Sage!”
As I whimpered out of the room, I heard Jax telling Bradley if she ever heard about anything like this again, she would chop his dick off and stuff it down his trumpet. Then she’d call the police.
The three of us met up a few minutes later in the kitchen. As soon as Jax’s eyes met mine, I burst into tears and fell into her. “I’m so sorry,” I cried into her shoulder. “Please don’t hate me.”
“Shut up,” she said softly as she rubbed my back. “Don’t ever say that. I was just so pissed, thinking what might have happened…and then you blaming yourself.” She grabbed a hold of the bulk of my hair, gently tugging my head back until we made eye contact. “Listen to me. Boys should be bowing down at your feet. They should be begging for permission to hold your hand. Do you understand me?” I nodded. “Don’t you ever blame yourself for something someone else chooses to do.” She knew what I was thinking next and continued. “I don’t care what you were doing, as soon as you say no that’s it. That’s the end, dammit!”
After I begged them both not to tell anyone, we rode home in silence, exchanging wordless conversation with our eyes. I pretended I was fine the next time we went to a party, even though a boulder rested at the pit of my stomach, and at every party after that. The memory began to fade over time, as I stuffed it back into my subconscious. But the day of James’s accident, a familiar queasiness crept back to me. I wasn’t sure what it was, maybe a foreboding sign of something awful to come. Jax was always the one looking for signs, but I felt something that day.
Now as I sit here behind the closed bathroom door, pressing my legs into the floor to keep them from shaking, I pray this isn’t a sign. It only means I’m a wreck as usual. Nothing bad will happen today. I just couldn’t tell Sophie “no” one more time. She’s been so heart-broken over her friend Keeley having to move, I thought this would help.
