Choice

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Choice Page 9

by Kennedy, Allison J.


  “Well, something happened on Monday that startled you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He didn’t say anything until I met his eyes again, at which his brows furrowed. “Was it something I said or did?”

  I shook my head, hating the way I felt when I saw the look in his eyes. I felt guilty. He had been so nice to me and I had charged out of his store like a lunatic. “No,” I shook my head again, this time more emphatically. “No, it wasn’t you. I promise.”

  He nodded slightly but the crease between his brows remained. “I know you don’t know me that well, but I’m a pretty good listener. If you wanted to talk about it, that is.”

  Why didn’t he just assume I had panicked because I thought someone had broken in? Obviously my reaction at his store hadn’t suggested something so simple. That would have been too easy. I rocked back on my heels and peered out at the parking lot, watching some students get into their cars while others huddled together in groups to gossip. I knew that one single rumor would be enough to ruin my life. I fidgeted nervously. “I just startle easily, I guess.” I looked at him. “Thank you though. You’ve been really great.”

  His lips twitched into a smile. “I have? How so?”

  My cheeks warmed and I was surprised I even had the ability to blush anymore. I had to admit it was nice to talk to a guy and not be afraid of him or put off simply because he was male, which seemed to be a trend lately. “Just the pizza and stuff. And your offer to listen. I appreciate it.”

  “Any time. I need friends in this town,” he grinned. He leaned away from the rail and tapped my shoulder with the file. “I’m going riding tomorrow if you want to join me.”

  He always left the ball in my court, it seemed. No pressure. No exchange of phone numbers. Alex was the type of guy, from what little I knew about him then, that I had always felt safe to be myself around. Guys at my school rarely looked above my shoulders when they spoke to me. That’s how it felt anyway. So to be spoken to with respect was a welcome relief. To be treated as a friend and not as fresh meat was welcome, too. And that is what caused me to smile genuinely for the first time in two weeks. “Sure. I need to work Cash anyway. I’ve been neglecting him.”

  Alex laughed and pursed his lips for a moment, as if he was hoping to tell me something that wouldn’t upset me.

  “What?” I was still smiling.

  “Well, I’ve taken him out to the arena a couple times this week, just to let him run around while I worked with Jack. I hope that’s okay.”

  I exhaled, relieved. “Are you kidding? That’s great. Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome.” He nodded with a grin and headed for the entrance. “See you there. Ten o’clock?”

  “Sounds great. My dad and Grace usually head to the stable around that time. I’ll go with them.”

  After we parted, I went down the stairs and through a group of seniors to make it to my car. After climbing in, I threw my bag onto the passenger’s seat and released a breath as I turned the key in the ignition. I was actually excited about something for once: I was excited to know a new person and not fear them.

  I was excited to feel something other than sadness.

  * * *

  I SAT IN THE BACK SEAT of my dad’s Lexus with my back propped against the side and my legs stretched out on the black leather. In my lap was my biology homework. “Do you need any help?” Dad asked.

  “No. I’m good.”

  “I’m really proud of you for pushing through your anxiety, May. You’ve managed to get your grades back in order; I know how much you were struggling.”

  I kept reading in my textbook while simultaneously listening. “I had no choice,” I mumbled. He didn’t seem to hear me, continuing his conversation with Grace who was in the front seat. I lost myself in my work throughout the duration of our drive until I felt the familiar crunch of gravel under the car. I closed my book and sat upright, looking out the window at the few cars in the lot. Dad parked next to Alex’s Camry and I noticed the Portland State sticker on the back window, peeling around the edges as if it had been there for a couple years. I opened my door and put my legs outside to pull on my boots.

  Grace and Dad were already on their way in. I tucked my jeans into my boots and closed the door, waving at Alex when I saw him watching me from the arena. He was lunging Jack in a circle.

  “Do you want to ride up the trail?” he called.

  “Sure,” I answered. “Just give me a minute to tack up.”

  Ten minutes later, I hauled myself onto my horse’s back. I rode out of the barn and jogged Cash up to the arena where Alex was already settling in the saddle on the outside of the gate. He smiled at me and nodded toward the trail. “Ever rode it before?” he asked.

  “A couple times. There are a couple steep parts, but nothing too bad.”

  He smiled and slowed his horse so we were riding side by side. “By the way, I finished the accent wall. The texturizing came out better than I thought.”

  “Good,” I smiled. “The terra-cotta color?”

  “Yep. I got a few buckets of the sage color too. Whispering Meadow to be exact.”

  “Oh, Whispering Meadow,” I exaggerated. “How mysterious.”

  He laughed. “I think you made a good call though.”

  I bit my lip, weighing an idea in my head that I was a little scared to voice. I decided to anyway. “Well, when you’re ready to paint, I’d like to help.”

  He tilted his head with a happy smirk. “I’d hoped you would say that. I need to get the place up and running so it’ll start bringing in money. I mean, I still have enough inheritance from my parents to survive, but I don’t want it to run out too quickly.”

  It was easy to forget that Alex had lost almost his whole family. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

  He looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

  “Everything,” I sighed. “Losing your parents and your grandfather; having to tie up all of the loose ends on your own. It must be daunting and terrifying.”

  He looked up at the sky. “I won’t pretend that isn’t true, but I don’t get to be terrified, you know? I don’t get to drop the ball. This stuff is too important.”

  “You get to be sad though.” I almost cursed myself for saying something so presumptuous, but it was too late to take it back. I watched him for any sign of anger.

  “I am sad,” he admitted with a sigh. He looked at me with weary eyes, but they only showed his sadness for a brief moment. “I’m just trying to grieve in a productive way.”

  I admired him and I barely knew him. I wished I had his strength; his fearless resolve. “I know I didn’t know them, but I believe your parents would be proud. So would your grandfather.”

  “Thank you. I hope so.” He rested his wrist on the saddle horn and looked at me with a new expression—one that was light and warm. “What do you do for fun?”

  What did I do for fun? None of my hobbies had ever felt like fun to me. Instead they were a means of expression, and a way to make sense of my thoughts and feelings. “I love to paint,” I offered, but skipped the part about losing interest in it.

  “An artist!” he beamed. “I knew you had to be. You’re a deep thinker.”

  I almost snorted. “I am?”

  “You are.”

  My cheeks burned. I rubbed my lips together and watched the path ahead. Why did smiling feel so strange? Why did I feel like I was insane for feeling a bit of contentment? Maybe it was because I still felt so broken beneath it all, and that made me feel like a liar. I felt like I was lying no matter what I did.

  “There you go again.”

  I looked at him and found him grinning. I smirked. “I guess I can’t help it.”

  He chuckled, squinting in the sunlight. “So what do you like to paint?”

  I shrugged. “Landscapes, mostly. Sometimes people.”

  “I would love to see your work.”

  I thought he had to be saying that out of cou
rtesy, but his eyes were completely sincere. I felt nervous for some reason. “Only if you show me your music.”

  “Done. You just bring your paintings to the shop and I’ll play you something. Then we paint the walls.”

  His suggestion was so hopeful in a friendly way; so unlike the typical manner in which guys had asked me to hang out in the past. I didn’t sense that he was looking at this like a date. Had he been, I never would have reciprocated. “Sounds great. When?”

  He grinned triumphantly. “Tomorrow morning?”

  We rode quietly for a while, though the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. I glanced at Alex when I knew he wouldn’t notice and watched the way his head tilted back when the sky began to mist. He closed his eyes and exhaled long and deep, a serene look on his face. He really was striking in a gentle and beautiful way. He had a way of calming me as if he were communicating with a scared animal, and he probably had no intention of doing so.

  I decided then that I could trust him.

  The mist turned into a steady but light downpour. “Should we turn back?” I asked.

  He opened his amused eyes and looked at me, water trickling down the bridge of his nose. “Are you afraid of a little water?”

  My lips twitched. “Are you?”

  His answer was a mischievous grin. He kicked his horse’s sides and off they went, tearing down the trail ahead of me. Laughter rolled out of me and disappeared into the rain as Cash and I flew through it after him.

  Fifteen

  WE STOPPED OUR HORSES along the edge of a pond and laughed at how hopelessly drenched we were. Alex nodded to an enormous evergreen that seemed to have been hollowed underneath its weighty branches. The bows were cut from the trunk, allowing for a space to duck under. Thunder boomed overhead as I slid out of the saddle. We took the reins from our horses’ necks and held onto them as we ducked for shelter.

  “Isn’t hiding under a tree practically tempting fate?” I asked as thunder boomed once more.

  Alex laughed and sat on the bed of moss and twigs, resting his back against the tree trunk. “No more than trying to ride back in this. Hey, you’re freezing.”

  I was indeed shivering profusely. Hugging my arms to my body, I tried to get it under control. “Oregon weather,” I mused casually. “Sometimes I wish it was a little more predictable.”

  He held out his hand in a come here motion, opening up his side as if to invite me in. When I only looked at him, he tilted his head. “Your lips are blue. You aren’t catching pneumonia on my watch.”

  I felt a small river of water begin to trickle around my knees, serving to remind me there was no escaping the cold. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to accept Alex’s gesture. “Really, I’m fine.” I tried to smile convincingly, but I knew I seemed less fine than stubborn.

  When a cold blast of wind swept under the bows, I knew I was going to have to compromise. I crawled forward on my hands and knees and sat down on the damp ground beside him, slowly nestling into his side. His arm closed around me and I felt that he was shivering too. “See? I don’t bite.” He grinned and rested his head against the tree, his body quivering.

  I let my bent legs lean against his and tried to soak up his warmth. “I guess you don’t.”

  “But just for the record, I’m still not afraid of a little water.”

  I looked up at his smiling face, eyes closed though clearly amused. “Me neither, though my dad is probably freaking out.”

  Alex hissed through his teeth as if he dreaded that thought. “I’ll do my best to explain when we get back. Your dad seems really nice, by the way.”

  “He is. He could do better in the father department, but he tries. He’s just not around much, and when he is, he seems to think I should be just like him.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me, serious and thoughtful. “I think everyone thinks that about their parents. My dad was drunk a lot and my mom had a mean temper, but they tried, you know? That’s what counts. And when I remember them, I try to remember the good times.”

  The water in Alex’s hair still dripped around his face. His jaw clenched when he shivered. I felt bad that I couldn’t offer more warmth. “I think you turned out pretty well.”

  He smiled. “Dad wanted me to be a contractor like him. I was never interested, but I tried for a while. I wanted him to be proud. After hitting every one of my fingers with a hammer repeatedly, eventually music won. The last thing he said to me was that if I wanted to starve my entire life and perform at rundown bars, he wouldn’t stop me. I just wish he would have seen me excel.”

  He didn’t say any of this with sadness in his voice, but it was there in his eyes. “He’s proud. You have to believe that.”

  “I try,” he whispered.

  I shivered and felt his arm tighten, but I didn’t feel confined. I felt safe. “What happened in the accident? I mean . . . if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I don’t mind. They had a fight and Mom stopped the car to get out. She said she wanted to walk home. Dad got into the driver’s seat, drunk and stumbling. He picked her up at the next stop sign and floored it through the intersection. They were hit broadside by a two-ton pickup. They died on impact.”

  I didn’t know what to say. The only thing that came to mind seemed inappropriate, but I said it anyway because I had to say something. “How do you know all those details?”

  He nodded as though he expected the question. “I was in the back seat.” He lifted the arm that was around me so I could see his wrist; it was littered with small, white scars. “Shattered radius and ulna. Lots of screws. Punctured lung, fractured neck. Five broken ribs and a crack in my femur.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “It’s alright,” he assured me. “I was reassembled. This rain makes me ache though.”

  “But you lost them . . . and you almost lost your life.” I shook my head, perplexed at how he could be so strong in the face of all of this. “You couldn’t have been completely reassembled.”

  “I was. Maybe with a few minor flaws, but I can do all the things I did before.”

  “I don’t mean your body.” I realized I was fighting tears. How could he not see what I meant? How could he survive such a devastating loss and not be lost?

  He was quiet for a moment, locked in my tear-filled stare. “I know. You can’t imagine how angry I am. He wouldn’t let me drive. His selfish choice stole him and my mom from me. I hated him for a long time, May. I hated myself for not finding a way to stop it. But I realized that hating anyone wouldn’t undo what had happened. I was consumed by it, poisoned from the inside out. The day Granddad died, I felt that prison open up and release me to live my life. Not by chance, but by choice.”

  “You chose to live despite your pain.”

  “Yes.”

  I envied him. I wanted the resolve he had. My circumstance paled in comparison to his, yet he was so much stronger than me. I hoped that one day I would be able to make that choice and not look back. I looked away so he wouldn’t see my tears. “He’s proud of you now. He has to be.”

  “May?” Dad called frantically from somewhere in the distance.

  Alex and I looked at each other in surprise. I left his side and crawled out from under the tree. “I’m here!” I called. “I’m alright.”

  Dad rode through the trees, holding the hood of his bright orange rain slicker tight over his head. “What are you doing out here?” he barked.

  He was angry. Alex stood beside me and quickly explained. “I’m very sorry, sir. We went for a trail ride and didn’t realize this storm was coming. I thought it would be best to wait for the worst of it to pass before trying to ride back.”

  He was putting the responsibility on his shoulders. I wanted to intervene, but Dad surprised me by saying, “Thank you. The path is really muddy and slick. I had to ride off the trail. Are you kids alright?”

  “We’re fine,” I promised. “Just a little cold.”

  Dad nodded. “Let’s get back. I don’t think it’s goi
ng to ease up any time soon.”

  Alex and I mounted our horses. I looked at the path and noticed how the rain had pounded the dirt into rivers of mud. We followed my dad into the trees and jogged the horses all the way back to the stable.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE PRACTICALLY HYPOTHERMIC, MAY,” Dad sighed, rushing my horse to be untacked the moment I slid from his back. I watched him lug my wet, dripping saddle off to the tack room and hugged my body for warmth. “What were you thinking?” he called.

  I went to my horse and began wiping the water out of his fur with a curved squeegee. Cash seemed oblivious to the cold, his ears perked and searching for food. Alex tied his horse to the post and brought me a blue hoodie. “Here,” he said. “Put this on.”

  “I can’t. It’s yours. You’re cold too.”

  “You need it more than me. Now come on.”

  I did as he instructed and waited as he pulled the hoodie over my head. Then I put my arms through the sleeves and moved my hair out of my face. Alex nodded, satisfied. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Welcome. Go home and get warm. I’ll take care of Cash.”

  He didn’t leave me room to argue before he was jogging off to the same tack room my dad was emerging from. “I’ll get her horse, sir. I’m very sorry for all of this.”

  Dad patted Alex’s shoulder in passing. “No worries. Come on, May. Grace is waiting in the car.”

  I started to take Alex’s hoodie off, but he took hold of the hand warmer slit in the front and held it in place. “Wear it home. You can bring it to the shop.”

  I smiled, though my teeth chattered. “Thank you. See you tomorrow?”

  He grinned. “Tomorrow. Nice and dry.”

  I smirked as I waved goodbye, following on my dad’s trail to the car.

  * * *

  MOM INSISTED I BATHE in her tub; it was enormous and there was a fireplace in the master bathroom. As soon as I was behind the closed door, I stripped out of Alex’s sweater and my drenched clothing and turned the knobs for the water to flow. I didn’t wait for it to fill before climbing in, gasping from the hot water that burned because my skin was so cold. Soon it began to rise around me and I settled my back against the porcelain, closing my eyes. The fireplace flickered, orange light coming through my eyelids. I was exhausted.

 

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