by Kylie Key
Ryan and I stood, and as Dad introduced us, we shook hands. Her voice was whispery with a southern twang; I didn't like it. Dad's hand rested on her lower back as he pulled out a chair for her, and then stroked the back of her neck as he pushed it in.
My heart rate had gone through the roof, though I tried not to show it.
"So, have you had a good morning?" Madison asked us.
Ryan and I nodded, setting our napkins on our laps, watching the waiter acutely as he poured us all water. There was so much going on in my head, so much to process. The waiter was doing his spiel about the special Christmas menu but I couldn't focus. Dad was brushing his fingers over Madison's hand.
Dad ordered for all of us, and also a magnum of champagne. With the waiter gone, he shuffled his chair closer to Madison's, his arm going around the back of it. A sick feeling swirled in my stomach.
"Got some news, boys," Dad said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather, "I'm moving to Atlanta. After Christmas." My heartbeat went manic. "With Madison."
I made a conscious effort not to look surprised, I don't know why. My eyes stayed on his, a fixed gaze wearing him down. I could see Ryan was watching me, and that Madison's eyes had dropped to the tablecloth, but I kept the stare going. Couldn't show that this news had jolted me, rocked me to my very core. Don't know why I thought of Selina at a time like this, but she had stared me down once. I was going to do 'a Selina'—maintain the eye contact.
"Gonna keep a check on the operations there for a while," Dad said, picking up his glass of water. He was squirming, I felt it. "Get things moving a bit." Dad's shipping and freight business was constantly expanding, his empire spreading across the south. "It'll be a big challenge." No mention of Ryan or me. "A very big challenge." He sipped and swallowed his water, like he had a stone in his throat.
"I suppose you'll become an Atlanta United supporter now," I said, referring to the city's soccer team. Me and Dad were Galaxy supporters; we went to every game. He'd taught me to play the sport, to love the sport.
Dad's laugh was uneasy. "Ha. No. No, that won't happen."
"When will we see you?" Ryan asked, his little voice trembling.
"It's not far," Dad said, bringing his arm from around the back of the chair and placing his hands in his lap, "only a four hour flight. I'll fly you out whenever you want."
That seemed to reassure Ryan. "Hey, cool."
"Yep, any time buddy," Dad said. Under the table his right hand reached across to Madison, presumably touching her thigh. They looked at each other, a hint of a smile touched their lips. My heart pounded harder.
"How long have you two been to-?" I failed to finish my sentence as Dad interjected, "The lobster here is delicious, you boys are gonna love it. I promise you."
He then lead the most jumbled and awkward conversation, diverting from soccer to grades to the last fiscal year, allowing no one to make more than one or two word comments. After a while, I didn't bother.
I ate the lobster, but I didn't taste a thing.
"I WANNA GO BACK TO Mom," Ryan said when we were back in our hotel room. "Can you take me?"
"When?"
"Now."
"I'm going to go down to the gym," I said, "I'll take you after that." I changed into a t-shirt and shorts and put on my sneakers while he set up his gaming on the bed. He called room service and ordered a milkshake and cheesecake—just because he could.
I ran on the treadmill, pedaled furiously on the bike, did 100 push ups, 500 sit ups, my body strong, my mind fragile, my whole life falling into an even deeper abyss.
Ryan had organized Mom to meet us at a park. She was already there and I pulled up behind her car.
Ryan scrambled out, dropping his hoodie in his rush to get to her. He ran into Mom's arms and hugged as if they were reuniting after a lengthy absence. It had been one night. My eyes stupidly watered. Ryan tossed his bag into the backseat and Mom opened the trunk and walked towards me with a gift bag. I sniffed and blinked rapidly.
"Merry Christmas, Cole," she said.
"Merry Christmas," I mumbled, ashamed that I had nothing to offer in return.
"Just a few little things," she said and I opened the door, putting the bag onto the passenger seat.
"Thanks." Again, a mutter, embarrassed.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
She pushed the door as I pulled it shut, and stood there, leaning in the open window.
I gripped the steering wheel, eyes on the dashboard. "Do you know?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Did you know about her?" My stare was straight ahead, too scared to look at her. Scared of her reply.
"Yes." It was a whisper, a quiver, breathed out on a muted sob. It answered the question my father never did. My mother didn't randomly leave my father, as I had believed. My father had had an affair. My fingers tapped, gripped, tapped. "Cole?"
I gunned the engine.
"Cole, where are you going?" She leaned in a little closer. "Baby, you can come to Jana's with us."
"Kaedie's," I said, flicking my blinker, switching the transmission to drive, her signal to step away.
Her lips brushed the side of my cheek and then she hopped out of the way as if she thought I might run her over. Well, I couldn't blame her, she and the neighbors had been berating my driving skills for the past month.
I didn't know where I was going. I might have said Kaedie's but I had no intention of following up on that. Kaedie thought I was with my father for a week. I had a legitimate excuse not to have to see her until her New Year's party.
I drove down the coast, a loner, a loser on Christmas Day.
I was shattered
Shaken
Strung out.
My dad had betrayed me, us, the whole family.
Not Mom.
I'd slammed Mom.
I'd broken her heart,
Was breaking her heart on a daily basis.
I parked up at the beach and opened my presents. Sunglasses, a watch, cologne, candy canes and SpongeBob pajamas.
I knew someone else who wore SpongeBob pajamas.
I laughed, until I cried.
And then I drove home,
Creeping up the driveway, lights out, car hidden in the garage.
I turned no lights on.
Three days I stayed inside,
Lifting weights
Riding the spin bike
Running on the treadmill
100, 1000 push ups
500, 5000 sit ups
And drinking Mom's alcohol collection.
CHAPTER 11
Mom prompted me to ask Millie about the marathon. With less than two months to go, she said I couldn’t leave things to the last moment, that people needed to train to walk 26.2 miles. It wasn’t something that could be done, at least comfortably, on a whim.
Dominique, Ainsley and I were walking together to and from school twice a week, and Dominique had planned a longer walk for the weekend. My enthusiasm in asking Cole had waned since he never returned my text. I’d reread it a hundred times, wondering if he’d misinterpreted it, or whether he thought I hadn’t been grateful. I kicked myself for not adding a smiley face emoji. I hadn’t seen or heard his car in the driveway, and the coffee and cake had stopped, as duly requested. I hadn’t considered how disappointed I’d feel when it did.
Ryan and Charlie had been doing their usual after school gaming, when Ryan’s phone alarm went off, his signal to go home. Mom and Millie were trying to restrict both boys’ screen time, especially midweek. I jumped up from my homework and announced I'd tag along with him, that I needed to see Millie. There was safety in numbers, I figured, and if they were about to eat dinner, I could quickly hand her a fundraising flyer and tell her to think about it.
My heart rate elevated on seeing Cole’s car in the driveway, wondering why he wasn’t at soccer training or at his girlfriend’s house. I had hoped I’d give Millie all the info and subtly suggest she ask Cole if he was interested, too. I would
n’t mention bonding and mending relationships.
Millie was busy preparing dinner, chopping up a bunch of vegetables.
“Hi, honey, how’s your arm?” she said to me, whilst ordering Ryan to go and wash up.
“It's much better,” I said, a quick scout around the room telling me that Cole was either watching television or upstairs. I spoke quickly, “Millie, I wanted to ask you something. Well, you and Cole.”
“Oh?” She sounded intrigued, and told me to sit at the counter beside where she was working, and without asking, poured me an iced water, which I noticed she was sipping, too.
Taking a deep breath, I was about to recite my spiel on the marathon, when Cole came walking in through the patio doors. "Did I hear my name?"
My face was overcome with a flaming heat, as he stood less than five feet from me, hair damp, chest covered in a splattering of droplets, a towel wrapped snugly around his hips.
Losing the power of speech, I could only manage a nod. I diverted my eyes from his muscular physique down to the puddle he was creating on the tiled floor.
"You have me curious, Selina," Millie said, putting her vegetables into a steamer. "Cole, you're making a mess," she scolded, looking down at the wet patch beneath his feet.
Cole pulled the towel from his waist, dropping it to the floor, leaving him standing in a pair of dark blue swim shorts. He grinned; a rush of adrenaline leaving me gaping like a wide-eyed tarsier (you know, the little monkey with the big eyes who gets a lot of meme love).
It took Millie’s clearing of her throat to bring me back to planet Earth. “You were saying, Selina?”
“Oh yes,” I said, swiveling on the stool, speaking directly to Millie. “My friends and I are walking a marathon as a fundraiser for burns survivors. We’re entering as a team, and I wondered if you’d be interested in joining us.” I handed her a flyer and swung back round in Cole’s direction, “And you, too. As well.” I held out the remaining flyer for him.
He should have grabbed it from my hand, that’s what I expected he’d do. But he didn’t. He folded his arms across his chest and said, “You and your friends are walking 26 miles?” His tone implied he didn’t believe we could make it.
“Yes, Dominique’s boyfriend is a burns survivor and we’re walking it with him.” It was hard not to be distracted by the defined six pack and the firm biceps.
“Dominique? Is she the feisty one?”
“Feisty one?” I echoed.
He smirked. “Yeah, the one who told me my time was up.”
“Uh, no, that was Ella,” I said, “Dominique’s the one with the long, dark braid.”
“Oh, the brutal one,” he said dryly.
“I’d prefer to call her candidly frank,” I said.
“Candidly frank was the one with the purple hair. She told me you could have been killed.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s Trieste,” I said, biting down on my lower lip and studying the marble counter top. My friends had certainly left a lasting impression on him. It was madness to think he’d want to walk a marathon with us.
“And the other one? The blonde who said you would’ve been freaking out?”
“That’s Ainsley,” I said, and not wanting to have to explain my peculiar adversity to driving, spouted out, “She thinks you’re cute.”
Cole huffed in amusement. “Yeah?” His chest seemed to puff out a little.
“Yeah, but she has a boyfriend,” I said quickly, in case he got any ideas. Of course he would like Ainsley—who wouldn’t? She was everyone’s dream girlfriend, perfect in every way. Ainsley never had any shortage of admirers; having her as a friend was both a blessing and a curse. “She’s been dating Logan since summer.”
“Thanks for the update,” Cole said, “I’ll keep that in mind.” His smug smile suggested that he didn’t consider that a barrier. I didn’t like the way my heart slumped.
“This sounds like a wonderful cause,” Millie said, making me swivel back towards her. “Your friends have put a lot of work into this. Tell me more about the boy.”
I told Malachi’s story, how Dominique had met him while volunteering at the hospital, his long stay in hospital with countless operations, and how the very real possibility of never being able to walk again lead him to set a goal of walking a marathon.
I finished talking and was met with silence. I thought I must have bored them to death, so I stood up, apologetic for having wasted their time.
“Anyway, Mom and I are doing it, so that’s why I thought I’d ask,” I gabbled, “Of course you don’t have to make a decision right now, but maybe you can think about it. Sorry to have interrupted your dinner, I better get going, thanks for listening.” I was ready to dart away.
“Thank you, sweetheart. We will think about doing it, but I’ll have to check my diary,” Millie said, and then she directed to Cole, “Honey, get the door for Selina. Please.”
I smiled sweetly, and followed the damp footsteps out to the front entrance, never knowing that the muscles in the back of someone’s legs could be so riveting. Then I remembered that he had a thing for blondes.
“So,” he said, stopping at the door, again folding his arms across his chest, “you didn’t like me bringing you coffee?”
“Oh no,” I said, detecting an edge in his tone, “No, I just didn’t want to be a bother to you. You know, having to go out of your way for me.”
He lowered his voice. “It wasn’t a bother. I liked doing it”.
“Oh.” His words floored me. I reached for the door, seeing it didn’t look like he was going to open it, but I’d forgotten I had a cast on my arm and that my fingers didn’t work properly. He came up behind me, one hand on the handle, the other gently guiding me back so the door could open. “Uh.” I swallowed with difficulty, his hand resting on my shoulder. Well, not even my shoulder, my t-shirt, my pink cotton t-shirt. I didn’t know why my heart was beating ridiculously fast. “Uh, see ya.”
“You will,” Cole said. For an instant I was mesmerized, his dark eyes meeting mine, his touch sending a surge of...something...through me...
What was that?
Electricity? Energy?
Was he an alien?
Why was it so hard to breathe?
To think?
To talk?
"You okay, Selina?"
I nodded, confused that his softer side was back, confused that I wasn't trying to tear myself out of his grip.
Confused that I couldn’t remember proper words.
"I need to take a shower," he said.
I nodded again.
He let me go.
I hurried back home, uncertain about what had happened, what was happening to my body. It was peculiar—a racing pulse, a tingling sensation, a feverish rise in temperature, like I was catching a virus.
GEORGE CORNERED ME as soon as I walked in the door, sitting me down at the table and showing me photos of cars on his laptop. I glanced at the screen with no interest whatsoever.
"How about metallic green or hot pepper red?" he asked, "They look racy."
"I can't drive until my cast comes off," I said, "that's still four weeks away, so there's no rush."
"The insurance company is settling so you need to make a decision."
"I don't really care," I said.
"Whaaaat?" George acted shocked, "you don't care?" It was a reasonable remark. I'd deliberated on the color of Doris for weeks before finally deciding on Lightning Blue.
"I'll ask Ainsley," I said, fobbing him off, "I'll see what she says." Truth is, I didn’t care one bit about a replacement for Doris. Though it might have been said in the heat of the moment that I never wanted to drive again, with each passing day it became more and more true. The thought of driving made me nauseous, right to the pit of my stomach. If my wrist never healed, I wouldn’t be disappointed.
“I’m sending you the link, so pass it on to Ainsley or Trieste or whoever is the expert on car colors,” George said with distinct mockery.
I sco
wled at him, but he playfully rubbed his beard in my face, making me yell, “My arm, my arm!”
After dinner I discussed the color of cars in the group chat with the girls. Every one of them had a differing opinion, so I was none the closer to making a decision. Like I said, I was in no hurry. My phone constantly pinged with notifications, as the chat moved onto prom dresses. There was a frantic posting of our preferred dresses, all of us pleased that no one had similar styles or the same color. That would probably change though, and probably at least three of us would end up in blazing blue. But my heart wasn’t in it. Prom seemed an eternity away.
Because of all the messages, it wasn't until we said goodnight that I saw that I'd missed a text from Millie. She'd written: Count us in! We'll do it!
My heart shuddered in excitement, this was the perfect opportunity for Millie and Cole to heal and it felt good that I’d helped instigate it.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
CHAPTER 12
With only five weeks until the marathon, Dominique and Malachi organized our first long group walk. Trieste had come up with the team name Burn Bright and it had been unanimously approved. The team now numbered twenty three people and several thousand dollars in sponsorship had already been raised.
We were meeting at the promenade and doing thirteen miles along the beach walkway. It was going to be the longest I’d ever walked, up to this point I’d done only half that distance in one go. Trieste had warned me about wearing good socks and said nothing compared to the pain of a blister. She had obviously never been hit in the chest by an airbag.
I wasn’t expecting Cole to make it to the walk. He hadn’t responded in the affirmative in the group chat, in fact he hadn’t made any comments. Mom offered Millie a ride and my anticipation levels were high as I waited to see if Cole would join us.
I hadn’t seen Cole since the evening I’d left his house, not understanding why my body had responded to his mere touch on my shoulder, but knowing I needed to keep my distance. Cole was entirely out of my league, everything about him was unsuitable—too cool, too worldly, too popular, too confident, and more importantly, he had a gorgeous girlfriend.
