Chasing Days

by Deirdre Riordan Hall

  Oblivious to how her comment tore right through any number of rational responses from me, she goes on. “He needs to work on the slobber,” she says. “And obviously he’s not losing any time practicing. I considered it charity work. I’m a closet philanthropist.” She laughs too.

  I gasp for breath and find the harsh realization that Teddy’s first girl-kiss was with Joss, mine too. Part of me wants to call him and hear every detail. He listened intently when I relayed mine during sophomore year. Instead, a sad part of me recognizes we’ve moved beyond that in our friendship. My heart dips, but Joss, beside me, the wind streaming through her hair, acts like a slipstream, holding me up and moving me along.

  We stop in front of a strand of stores and boutiques by the beach. First, we go into a coffee shop. The sharp smell of roasted beans reminds me of Teddy. Joss orders a mocha and gives the name Cyndi Lauper for her order. The guy behind the counter looks slightly confused.

  I raise my eyebrows in question.

  "I found my dad's old record collection at my grandma's. I guess he was cool once. I'm working my way through his catalog of old albums. I'm on L. The scratch, scratch on vinyl as the turntable spins is hypnotic. I think I'm addicted."

  A frazzled lady with frizzy hair lumbers in. She has a baby strapped on in a sling, two toddlers, plus an unruly five year old. Desperation pinches the lines around her eyes.

  “Next,” the barista calls.

  I order an iced tea. I hand him a twenty. When he starts to give me the change, I say, “That lady over there with all those kids, hopefully the change will cover whatever she orders.”

  His expression passes through confusion to understanding. "Cool. Next?"

  While we wait for the ice tea and Cyndi Lauper's drink, Joss says, "You can tell a lot about a person based on what song they have stuck in their head."

  I hum a few bars of I Kissed a Girl. Surprisingly, based on her penchant for punk, Joss picks it up without missing a beat. I wonder if she had it stuck in her head too. The barista calls, "Cyndi Lauper and Willa." I imagine us singing karaoke.

  I follow Joss outside and start toward the car, but she ushers me in the opposite direction. A wicked grin spreads across her lips when I catch up. She continues a few doors down until she reaches a tattoo shop. “I turned eighteen last week. Happy birthday to me.”

  In under an hour, a tiny hand positioned in the sign language symbol for I love you dots her wrist. I opt out. Along with my general disinterest in technology and social media, I’m not sure I’ll ever get inked. Call me the anti-hipster. My parents are both well illustrated with tattoo sleeves and more. Meanwhile, I slurp the watery dregs of ice from the bottom of my cup.

  Back in the granny-car, Joss cuts through streets and ignores traffic laws as she zooms inland.

  “So, what brought you here, to Puckett and all?” I ask.

  She’s quiet until she lets out a deep breath. “My dad couldn’t handle me. Sent me to live with my grandmother.”

  “Can she handle you?” I ask.

  “The question is can I handle cookies and milk?” she answers with a smile I haven't seen yet. She looks… sweet.

  “Yes?”

  “He was on me all the time. Clothes, hair, grades, I was never good enough. Teddy totally gets it.”

  “Yeah.” It’s strange being on the other side. My parents raised me to diversify. I’m not sure if I took advantage of their generosity and open mindedness as much I should have. So many people I know engage in power struggles with their parents. I wonder how we'll all turn out; if they'll end up like their helicopter moms and work-a-holic dads or stay true to themselves and their own personal through-line. I hope our generation invents an entirely new wavelength.

  “I love this song,” Joss shouts.

  The sound coming out of the speakers can only be described as noise. It frees me from thought and sets me on an altogether different frequency as the bass thumps a rhythm and the lead guitar comes in. I forget what I was thinking about. Joss bops her head along and pounds on the steering wheel. Over the clashing chords, comes an angry and insistent whir.

  “Shit.” Joss suddenly pulls the granny-car to the side of the road.

  An officer approaches and runs through the drill. Joss makes a pathetic apology, but the cop hands her a ticket anyway.

  She shoves it in the glove box with what looks like a few others. She is recklessly divine as she burns from the shoulder and back onto the road as if she’s daring him to stop her again. But she doesn’t speed, instead raising the volume on the music giving the illusion of velocity.

  After two more identical songs, Joss trundles to a stop next to a lake and parks the granny-car in the shade. There are a couple of small cottages in disrepair on the far shore, and a vacant, sandy patch on this side.

  “I used to come here when I was a kid. The beach, too many tourists. This lake on the other hand…Those cottages, no one lived in them and we’d make up stories about how they were haunted and if you swam in the dark the ghosts would try to keep you here.”

  I shiver.

  “Of course I swam after dark. And look, I’m back.” A hint of sadness drains the light from the sun. I look up. Maybe it was just a cloud.

  Joss’s shorts are around her ankles and her top flings to the hood of the car. Her bra and underwear sail overhead. Her outie belly button looks adorable as she turns to the lake. She woops and splashes into the water. Pressure builds within. It’s like she has sexy written on her lips. I’m helpless. My legs are jelly. The rest of me, ambrosia.

  I hop out of my shorts and follow, keeping my shirt and underwear on. Just as my toes reach the icy water, Joss shakes her head.

  “Skinny dipping only. Those are the rules.” Then she splashes me. Still, I hesitate.

  She crooks her forefinger and beckons me forward. I can’t resist her grin. A smile works its way over my quivering lips. Without allowing another second to pass to talk myself out of it, I follow. My whoop, at my bare skin in the chill water, echoes.

  “The ghosts,” she says. “They’ll be waiting for you later.” She cackles wonderfully.

  "But it's still light out." Goosebumps race across my neck and down my spine, pressing against the ache inside. Joss must sense this because just then she pulls me into a kiss. I can barely brace my feet against the slimy bottom.

  We’re wet and kissing and not even the reappearance of the sun can dry us off.

  Eventually Joss pulls away and gets out of the water. She grabs a towel from the car and wanders a few yards to the shade of a tree.

  I am so flippin’ naked. I timidly get out of the lake, gather up my clothes, and join her.

  She reclines on one elbow, totally comfortable in the nude. I would be too if I had her curves. She draws in the dirt with a nubby stick. “My brother and I used to come here: swim, climb the trees, tell ghost stories…”

  I think she means he died. I’m about to offer my condolences.

  “He took off with some chick. They got into drugs. I haven’t heard from him in almost a year.” She throws the stick. “You know when you think it’s you and someone you love against the world?”

  I nod. I definitely do, and Joss recently became acquainted with the lips belonging to my former partner in crime.

  “That was us, my brother and me. Keller and Joslyn. Undefeatable. Except—”

  I turn to Joss, my heart pounding for that particular kind of loss: when someone is still there, but not themselves anymore. Of course, with Teddy, it isn’t as drastic, but the feeling is similar. It's in how Joss looks now, crushed, as if the absence of her brother extinguished an important part of her brilliant star.

  Desperation, for her to see herself how I do, and not to let anything snuff her hope pushes past my nervousness. “Except you’re not defeated. You came here, made friends, and a new life.” I want to say something about her future but I know as much about it as I do my own which is to say, nothing. Instead, I just say, “Look at you.” I look at her
, all five feet something of untamed red-haired punk rock elegance. “You’re amazing. I mean, I don’t even really know you very well, but the vibe you give off, this larger than life, doesn’t give a damn dominance like you know what you're about. It's rad.”

  I think she blushes except the leaves rustle overhead dappling her with light so I can’t be sure. Then she gazes thoughtfully toward the lake, and I carefully start to pull my shirt on.

  “Wait,” she says, touching my arm lightly, hinting that she might be enjoying this as much as I am. She rests her head on her bent elbow and lengthens along the towel. I rest next to her; our naked bodies close but not touching.

  “I’m afraid to leave. What if he comes back? What if the ghosts call him to return?” she says.

  I swallow. I’m afraid, too. What Guzzi said earlier about following his compass points me toward clarity. “It’s okay to be afraid and it’s good to hope for his return. In the meantime, you still have your life. The brother you knew, he’d want you to live it.” And if Teddy weren’t Theo, he’d want the same for me. “Keller, right? Tell me about him.”

  And she does, she talks about her brother until our stomachs growl. She tosses me an apple from her bag in the car and we talk some more about music and food and summer.

  Joss leans close and says, “Should we kiss a little?” Warmth radiates between us, which both turns me on and brings comfort. We kiss in the car. We kiss parked in front of my house. We kiss until our lips are pinker than pink, and I want nothing more than to give her a little bit of my hope to carry her through.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ☾

  Sunday

  I rinse the lake off, taking advantage of the privacy of the shower. I picture Joss and I, making out on the towel and then the foggy image of Grady fills the doorway of my mind.

  My hand goes still and my arousal washes down the drain. I'm split in two; on one side, I have a connection with Joss who's this grunge goddess who inspires me to be myself and on the other, there’s His Royal Hotness. He fills me in like the incoming tide and when we’re together, I don’t forget I'm awesome. I don’t feel the need to crater into the deep and meaningful. We're fun together. Paradoxically, that sorta makes it deep and meaningful.

  I sigh and shut off the water.

  I tug on a tank top and an old pair of boxers. Seated by my window, I hum as Pibbles and Wigwart nestle beside me and in my lap.

  The unforgiving heat of the day buries itself in the darkness not reached by the half moon. My thoughts from the shower return, but before I see where they lead, the shades next door brush open. Teddy appears at the window.

  I want to shrink into the shadows, but instead give him a wave.

  “Hi,” he calls to me.

  I lean my damp hair against the window frame, unable to ignore the countless times we've met this way—creating fireballs of giddy excitement with plans to sneak out or just pass notes until our eyes drooped and our giggles turned into yawns. Whatever it is that hovers in the air between us now are like a swarm of no-see-ums.

  “Wanna walk?” he calls through the darkness.

  I don’t bother getting properly dressed, just slide into a pair of sandals.

  Curiously, Teddy wears an almost identical outfit, only his boxers are plaid. Mine have stripes. He rarely looks anything short of fabulous, except tonight. Matching bags still stain the space under his eyes. He'd tell me they're designer: Prada or Louis Vuitton. But the stiffness in his carriage suggests he isn't in a joking mood. The dark night forgives us both any fashion faux pas.

  We’re quiet as we reach the end of Druery Lane and turn toward the long boulevard that borders the ocean.

  A hundred thoughts crowd my mind. I used to be able to talk about anything with Teddy. We're both so different now, but to look at us, we appear to be the same as ever. I take a stand against the ninety-two-seconds of silence that passes between us. It's unacceptable. “Tonight it feels like dreary lane.”

  “Huh?” he asks and then chuckles, belatedly understanding my meaning and confirming that I’ve broken the ice. “It’s a shame we never found the Muffin Man.”

  “No, it’s a shame we stopped looking.” My voice sounds unusually flat.

  In the glow of the streetlight, sadness creeps over his features at the truth in my words, but he goes on, “We checked every house, climbed every tree, and turned over every stone… Remember when your mom left a plate of muffins under the street sign?” he asks fondly.

  “The giveaway was the plate—one of her yard sale finds from the weekend before.”

  “Sorry I missed dinner last week,” he says.

  “Are you sorry?”

  “I was busy figuring out, well, everything. Still am. And at some point we did have to stop seeking the elusive and reclusive, non-existent purveyor of mystical muffins.”

  I shrug, feeling a bit like Peter Pan missing a lost boy. “If you say so.”

  He flinches as if my words singe him. “It’s just different now. I’m different. Willa, you’re different. The question is how do we deal with change?”

  The stars blanket whatever is beyond and obscure everything I don’t know. They bring comfort because part of me is okay with not knowing what the future holds. However, my allergic reaction to singling out that one thing I'll spend my life doing freaks people out, maybe including Teddy. I don't blame him. Most days it freaks me out. My confidence in not having a plan comes and goes possibly following the moon's cycle or something equally mysterious. Then when my voice is quiet, I realize I’ve said all of this aloud.

  Teddy smiles as if we finally understand each other. “And see, I need blueprints. I’m not okay with not knowing. Come august, I need the security found in a dorm room with my name on the door. I have to be sure that I’ll be in Rhode Island, pursuing my dream. And in order to get there, I think I had to shed layers of myself, strip down to the bare essentials.”

  I eye him.

  “This,” he gestures at his outfit and mine. “Twinning."

  I crack a smile.

  "Kidding. It’s so fucking hot." He catches himself and his eyes widen, "I'm talking about the temperature, the weather, not that you're wearing your dad's old underwear." He looks down at his clothes. "I’ll never lose my flair. Unless I do, in which case that would be okay, too. I mean it has to be, right? Don't worry, I don't envision that happening, but the worst thing someone can do is to deny his or her evolution. Y'know? Change is constant.”

  I do, but that doesn't make this easier. “My parents used to jokingly lament that I didn’t come with an instruction manual. There were times when it really bothered me that they didn’t know what to do. I wanted them to have all the answers all the time, to have it figured out.”

  “Except they did because they raised an outstanding human being.”

  I chuckle. “Change is so freaking weird.”

  “Fucking weird.”

  “So how do we deal with change?” I ask.

  “Maybe the Muffin Man knows.”

  “Good luck finding him.”

  “I’m about to sound like a flipping dip right now because this is what everyone says, but it's true,—the best we can do is be ourselves,” Teddy says.

  “But what if I don’t know who that is?”

  “The party is figuring it out.”

  We pass quiet and familiar houses. The entire neighborhood is asleep, nestled behind dark windows.

  “So you’re really not gay?” I ask.

  “White heterosexual male who supports homosexuality one hundred-and-fifty-percent.” A wild grin thrives on his face as he lets his truth free.

  I still can’t believe it. “So you and Gretel? Last night?”

  “Twice.”

  “What?” I say. “I always thought we’d do it together, I mean—”

  A flash of mock-excitement shines then fades from his face. “I thought the other day determined we’re not compatible in that way. I won't lie and say it hasn't crossed my mind.”
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  I shake my head. “Ew, no. I mean not ew, it’s just that you’re like a brother. I thought there’d be this build-up, anticipation, like we’d go buy condoms together and it would be this thing we share.”

  “You’re such a wackadoo,” Teddy says. “That crosses the brother sister line, straight into freaky.”

  “But we’re friends too,” I say. "Friends do stuff like that together. Heather and I went out and bought condoms the other day."

  He inhales the salty air. “I'm sorry, Willa,” he drawls.

  His words reorient me to the Teddy I knew and introduce me to the Theo he's becoming.

  I can't help smile. “Friendlings. Like siblings and friends together.”

  “Damn, I’m surprised we hadn’t come up with that before.”

  We laugh until we’ve almost reached the shore and now feels exactly right, like the stars and moon have finally aligned, and illuminate our unique friendship once more. We turn our backs to the chilly breeze coming off the water and loop back toward Druery.

  “So friendling, tell me about Grady…and Joss.”

  I hiccup.

  “First tell me more about swapping teams. I’m shocked that you already lost your virginity. I didn’t even have time to process that you weren’t gay and now you gave it up.”

  “It was mine to give.” He straightens. This Theo fellow is more confident than the Teddy I remember. “For the record, I never said I was gay. I'd just found my people. I didn’t fit in at school or belong in my house with my parents. I wasn’t pretending either. It’s complicated, but this is who I am. By the way, we may not have found the Muffin Man, but someday I'll prove that my so-called biologicals are aliens. The Westings from planet Zorb.”

  I laugh, feeling like my shoes are finally on the right feet.

  “I was so angry and caught up in possibly not being able to go to art school. I went to a party and tossed inhibitions aside. Or back, with a six-pack. Then I realized there were so many parts of myself that I was hiding. From myself, from you. I mean you knew me the best, but there are countless dimensions that I didn’t even recognize. For instance, I like strawberries. The sweet and tart together? Yum. Clogs, deceivingly comfortable. And Jaze, I tolerated his—”