by Stahl, Shey
In the back of the gym I saw Dylan Wade, my lost childhood friend. I’ve seen Dylan almost every day since we were three-years-old but today I noticed him, really noticed him, smoking a cigarette with smoke billowing from his mouth and nose after each drag.
We were inside Saint Martin’s gym and he was smoking a cigarette. Very Dylan like. His knee was bent, his foot propped against the wall, his head bent forward with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cigarette.
That wasn’t what drew my attention to him. What drew my attention to him were his demeanor and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a gown like the rest of us.
Dylan has always acted a little strange, a bit of a recluse, but today he was standing so calmly, staring at me intently, like he was trying to burn a whole through me. He wasn’t fidgeting like he normally did; he was acting normal for Dylan standards. His brown hair still had its usual untamed waves in the front and his clothes, his usually dark flannels rolled up to his elbows and his vintage band t-shirts, had the same worn appearance that they always had but he was different.
I stared back wondering what he was thinking. We didn’t look at each other much these days. Honestly, I couldn’t help but stare back questioning what he was looking at. Over the years, the most I’ve heard him say was “Fuck off” and that was usually directed at teachers, when he came to class, or other students who tried to talk to him. Dylan didn’t like people to talk to him, never had, even when we were little. He just didn’t talk that much.
So what made today different?
I wasn’t sure, but the day brought me from my thoughts.
Everyone applauded when they announced me as the valedictorian and I wanted to roll my eyes at how ridiculous this all was. How did I get to be valedictorian?
Looking around for an answer, everyone continued to applaud except for Dylan. Head bowed to the floor, he took another drag from his cigarette before shifting his gaze to the door and then back to the stage.
“Thank you everyone.” I smiled and took a deep breath to prepare myself. I had a speech planned out but once I got to the podium, none of it came to mind as I stared at Dylan, still smoking his cigarette.
Looking at him doing what he wanted, when he wanted, I so desperately wanted that. I wanted to feel the freedom he felt, unpredictable freedom. I wanted to be out of control and I wanted to be a rebel. I wanted a sunrise, an opal sun dripping from the sky, with a new day where anything was possible and the sunset was unknown.
Dylan was never predictable, even at a young age I knew that, but lately, he was even more unpredictable but he was also persuasive, he had a vibe to him like that.
I remember being at the Homecoming dance earlier in the year when that riot broke out all over Dylan getting in a fight with Jensen Williams, another football player. That’s when Dylan started provoking the other students by yelling and shoving. He did it on purpose. I knew that much. Enticing the mob of students and loving every minute of it, I watched him closely that night. Dylan could goad just about anyone, he knew it, and worked it to his advantage most of the time.
My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest as I stood there looking for an answer and then while I took in the admiring gazes of my peers and parents, I snapped, the moment before the dark turned to light, the moment when everything was unpredictable.
I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t be this person they wanted me to be.
“Everyone expects me to come up here and give a speech about how I got to where I am because of all my hard work and that may be right. I did work hard. But I’m not so sure I did that for myself. I did it because my parents wanted me to. I did it because it was what was expected of me and what I was pushed to do.”
My parent’s eyes went wide and my dad shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. The hard line of his lips confirmed my thoughts that he was seeing red. Jeff Gray didn’t like surprises.
Though I didn’t want to look at him, I looked to Dylan. Somewhat reserved, he smiled running his hand over the stubble of his defined jaw seeming amused but hiding it well.
After another deep breath, I continued. “I’m not going to stand up here and lecture everyone that, with hard work, you can achieve it too. Well, you can have it if you want. You can have it all. I don’t want any of it.”
If I thought, my parent’s eyes were wide before, they looked like they were both about to have a fucking heart attack now. It was a great feeling.
“The truth is that my entire life has been planned out for me. Did you know I couldn’t even buy my own underwear? My mom does that for me,” I said with a laugh.
My dad, who had shot out of his chair in embarrassment, had reached the stage by then and grabbed my arm. Straining to speak into the microphone, I needed to say one more part that was important.
“Looks like my times up but I just wanted to say one last thing to everyone…fuck off!”
With a bow, I smiled and flipped my hair over my shoulder and flashed my gesture to the crowd.
I looked back into the stunned wide-eyes of the audience and smiled again. My mom was crying large fake tears as my brother watched me curiously as if I had lost my mind. Eric was glaring at me along with Mercedes. Kasey was smiling like he was proud and Dylan was now shaking with laughter in the back of the room, obviously amused by my outburst.
My dad escorted me off stage only to yank me forward trying to shake the nonsense out of me. “What is wrong with you young lady!” he barked walking me behind the stage away from the others. Large curtains draped around us blocking my view of the crowd to the right.
“What?” I tried to play it cool giving my blue eyes a glazed over appearance. It could have worked but the thought that I was trying to play it cool after that had me nearly laughing. A smiled threatened any minute and before he spoke, I was smiling.
“Don’t what me Bailey Ann. You have embarrassed our entire family with that little stunt of yours. What has become of you?”
I jerked my arm away. “Maybe this was me all along!” I shot back, angry that he was making such a big deal out of this. “You have no idea who I am. You know the daughter you want to know.”
“No, that’s not the daughter I raised.” By the reverberation of his voice, I could tell this had nothing to do with the outburst and more to do with the fact that someone had humiliated him. “The daughter I raised would never disrespect her family that way.”
There. He said it. It was once again, about him and not me.
“You don’t know what kind of daughter you raised. You don’t even know me. You know the daughter you want to know. You planned me as though I was some sort of toy for you. Well you know what, I’m tired of this!” I choked, on the verge of tears now. “I won’t be your marionette anymore.”
I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this. I didn’t want this life. They could have their perfect daughter but that was not me and I wouldn’t do it any longer.
I ran toward the parking lot. Eric caught me before I could reach it, his face the same shocked disappointment everyone else had. “What was that? Do you realize how much trouble you’re going to be in!” he too reached for my arm attempting to redirect me back to the school.
“Let go Eric. I’m getting out of here.” Jerking away, I tried to run but he caught up with me.
As I tried to get away, and tried not to trip on the massive stairs leading to the parking lot, I had no idea where I was going but I needed to get out of there and think.
“Bailey, what has gotten into you?” Eric shouted. “This is crazy. Stop and talk to me baby.”
The problem was that he didn’t want to talk and in the ten years I had known Eric, I had never heard him raise his voice.
Taken back, I stared at him, blinking a few times as Mercedes and Kasey rushed to the parking lot as well. They stayed back only because Kasey held Mercedes in place, his arms wrapped around her chest as she fought to get free.
“You know what’s wrong with me Eric?” I asked wh
en I found my voice. “I’m tired of living like this.” I sighed and looked him in the eyes. “I can’t do it. Did you honestly think you could go away to college and this would work between us?” I spoke slowly trying to make him hear me.
The problem was that they weren’t hearing me. I don’t even know why they asked because they weren’t looking for an answer from me. At least not the one I had for them.
“I’m sick of it. So this is me losing it I guess.” I threw my arms in the air. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be that person who just sits back—” I was going to continue but I was cut off by the thunderous roar of Dylan’s engine and the screaming of his father as the car rumbled.
Squinting into the sun the filter through the thick layer of cotton, my eyes found them in the distance in a heated conversation.
His father, Ken Wade, continued yelling at him until Dylan stepped menacingly out of the car and approached his father appearing to have struck a nerve.
“Fuck you!” Dylan screamed. “You don’t know anything about me!”
That’s when they started talking but I couldn’t make out anything they were saying. Whatever it was, Dylan was not agreeing with him and was inches from his face shouting back.
All of a sudden, Ken drew his arm back and punched his son in the face. “You ungrateful little shit!” he shouted standing over him. “I gave you everything you ever needed and that’s how you repay me?”
Dylan didn’t budge. His expression was unreadable but guarded as he stared at his father, his breath even and surprisingly controlled.
I don’t know what possessed me to do this but I ran toward them. If I had to guess, the same urge had me telling everyone who ever helped me succeed to fuck off. Clearly not much of my common sense was present today.
“Don’t hit him!” I shouted pushing against Ken’s chest. My efforts did nothing seeing how he was something like 6-2.
Why I felt the need to get involved is beyond me but I did it anyway. Again, common sense was gone.
“Bailey you need to stay out of this. This is between me and my son and you’ve gotten yourself in enough trouble for one day.” Ken warned grabbing my arm. He too yanked me away.
I had a lot of yanking happening to me. I was about to say something else when Dylan spoke again. “Don’t touch her.” He seethed, creating distance between his dad and me.
Eric reached for me bringing me against his chest, his arms protectively around my waist.
Turning, I looked up at Dylan, surprised by his reaction. This was the first time I’d heard him speak in I don’t know how long, years maybe.
His eyes, frosty blue like winter, found mine and in that moment, I forgot the world around me.
Instead, I saw us playing as kids. I saw us making mud pies, getting dirty, swimming at Black Lake and my first kiss on the train tracks with him and the taste of his watermelon gum. I saw us the way we should have been when nothing else mattered but a dirt road that led to nowhere.
But that wasn’t us anymore. It couldn’t be.
Or could it?
Could it be that there was something else out there for me? Could it be that my sunrise was finally unpredictable?
“Come on Bailey.” Eric jerked me into his chest with a firm grip on my upper arms.
All I could focus on was Dylan’s eyes. He seemed to be just as lost as I was.
In that moment, we were two kids looking for an escape. Two kids wanting that unpredictable sunrise.
Dylan’s eyebrows pulled together as he seemed to consider something and then tipped his head to his idling Pontiac, his expression unreadable.
Did he want me to get it?
Then he made it a little clearer for me when he mouthed, “Come with me.”
That’s when Eric took a firmer hold on me. His eyes searched my face for something, an emotion, an answer that he would never find. “Bailey, let’s go.”
Pushing against his chest, I tried to find my voice. “No, let go of me Eric.”
He didn’t and held tighter. “I won’t let you ruin everything.”
“I believe she asked you to let her go,” Dylan said, anger sparking, as he shoved Eric’s chest once. Eric’s hand slipped from me with the motion. “If you want to keep that million dollar arm, I suggest you let go.”
“Stay out of this Wade.” Eric warned stepping toward Dylan. “This is between me and my girlfriend.”
Near the driver’s door now, Dylan opened the driver’s door, his eyebrows raised, and without thinking, I jumped in, frantically crawling across the bench seat to the passenger side beside his guitar. “Yeah well,” Dylan smiled, “looks like she wants a ride.”
With a casualness that seemed more taunting than threatening, Dylan got inside the car with me.
Eric stepped back knowing Dylan wouldn’t hesitate to run over him.
Once my breathing returned to normal I realized what I’d just done.
I’m insane. This is so insane. This is amazing.
I just got into a strangers car. He wasn’t a stranger. I’d known him almost my entire life but I didn’t really know him anymore. He could have murdered someone and I wouldn’t have known.
Maybe he was going to murder me.
You’ve watched entirely too much Criminal Minds. I told myself trying to relax.
It did nothing.
My eyes darted to Dylan who was staring at the road. With the adrenaline running through me, I felt as if I had just robbed a bank and couldn’t stop from shaking. It was like the time I drank ten Red Bulls to stay up for mid-terms. I didn’t sleep for a week.
How was Dylan so calm?
We were still in town, about a mile from Black Lake. When we crossed the train tracks, he looked over at me, his lip bleeding from where his dad punched him. Visibly angry, he brushed his left hand across his lip, wiping the blood away and then looked back at the road before wiping the blood on his jeans.
Before I knew it, we were sitting in front of my house. Dylan didn’t look over at me as he began to speak his gravelly voice startled me. “You should go inside.”
The sound of him speaking seemed bizarre to me.
“I don’t want to.” I argued.
Maybe he didn’t really want me with him. Maybe he didn’t want to go anywhere with me. I can’t really blame him. Because of my family, I pretty much acted as though he wasn’t alive the last eight years.
“You shouldn’t get into more trouble. Go inside.” He demanded.
“No.”
Dylan sighed. “What are you doing with me?” he asked carefully, shaking his head. “Just go.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I told him. “I don’t know but I do know I want to get away, anywhere, with you.”
He was quiet for a moment. His eyes searched mine as though he was asking them a question.
His mouth opened and then he paused, as if deciding what he wanted to say. That’s when his expression changed, softened as he spoke quietly. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, roughed up knuckles turned white, and he looked back out the windshield. “Go inside—”
“NO!” I interrupted him.
Dylan’s eyes swept to mine and glared, his face taking on a solemn edge. “Go inside—”
I started to say something again but he silenced me with his fingertips.
“Grab whatever you need but make it quick, pack fugitive style. Your parents will be here soon.”
What in the hell is fugitive style? Should I ask? No, don’t ask just go with it.
I nodded and reached for the door, his hand reached for my arm and tugged lightly. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, hesitantly. “If you leave now―”
“I’m sure, Dylan.” I assured him and ran inside my house before he could tell me no again.
Now what do I pack?
Clothes, underwear…what else? Camera, definitely grab that. I wondered what packing fugitive style was. Tossing all this in my bag, I looked back at my computer.
“Only necessities,” I chanted to myself, “Only necessities.”
I packed everything I thought was essential and nothing more. I did grab my phone but left my laptop and iPad on my desk knowing neither one of those items would be fugitive style.
After that, I went for my emergency stash of money that I had hidden away in a stuffed pig I had on my bed from working last summer. That money was the one thing that my parents didn’t know I had.
With my fugitive style packing and my running skills, I was back in Dylan’s car in two minutes flat.
I saw my parent’s car pulling into the development just as we made a right on Black Lake Boulevard. I looked back at them in the side mirror, my mother’s arms waving all around frantically as my father yelled.
I could literally imagine the conversation that was happening in that car right now.
That’s when my mind started to scramble and I wondered if this was the right decision to make? Had I fucked up everything beyond repair?
But did I really want to repair a life I never wanted?
Dylan didn’t say anything until we got to the stop light on Trosper Road. When the light turned green, the car in front of us started moving and Dylan looked over at me as he eased through the intersection. “North or south?” he asked waiting for me to look at him.
What a loaded question that was. The car behind us honked and Dylan smiled waiting for me to answer. Sunrise, sunset, planned, unplanned, predictable, spontaneous, everything had a meaning. Only I didn’t know what that meaning was.
“South,” I replied.
Dylan smirked letting his eyes wander past my face. Naturally, this embarrassed me and my cheeks burned. “South it is brown eyes,” he said making a left onto Interstate 5.
I’m not sure what excited me more right then. The idea of going south with Dylan Wade or him calling me brown eyes, my childhood nickname he gave me when I was three.
