by P. Dangelico
Later, I’d laugh my ass off every time Noah came home smelling rank and looking mad as hell. But that night after they were released, Rowdy made them get in the backseat of his old Chevy Blazer. The three of them as big as buildings all crammed together while I sat upfront was enough to put a smile on my face despite how tired I was.
When we reached my house, Grandpa parked and killed the engine, then he looked in the rearview mirror. We all knew he was steaming. He hadn’t said a word up until then and he didn’t have to; anger was coming off of him in waves.
“You three wanna raise hell go right ahead. Did more than my share when I was your age. But you never mess with another man’s livin’––ever. You boys hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered all at once.
“That bull is worth a hundred grand. Anybody got a hundred grand to give Dutton if his bull had ended up on highway fifty-nine as the hood ornament of a tractor trailer?” A tension-filled ten seconds of silence followed. “Didn’t think so.”
Looking my way, he said, “Night, sweetheart.”
I gave him a quick peck on his bristly cheek. “Night, Grandpa. Thanks again.”
He nodded once. Then he briefly glanced in the back seat with a look of disgust. “Out––you shitheads can walk home. Fresh air’ll do you good.” His fiery blue stare fixed on Jermaine. “Except for you. Your father gets wind I made you walk and he’ll bring hell, fire, and damnation down on my head. I’ll drop you off.”
Jermaine’s father was not only the town pastor but also a very big man. Not even a risk-taker like Rowdy would tangle with Pastor Johnson.
We all poured out of the Blazer. Grandpa drove off with Jermaine and after a quick, “Thanks, Maren,” Dane took off jogging down the street, leaving Noah and me standing on my lawn alone.
We stared at each other for a few minutes before he spoke. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I sniffed and averted my eyes, burying my hands in the pockets of my zip-up hoody. “That’s funny because you hardly speak to me anymore.”
The way he was watching me, with absolute focus, was a little unnerving. Different from how he usually looked at me and I didn’t know what to make of it. He stepped closer and my heart sped up. Reaching out slowly, he grabbed hold of my zipper and pulled it up higher.
“It’s too hard being around you now.” He said it so low I almost missed it, the words blunted by a gust of spring wind that promised a storm was on its way. And at the time I wished I hadn’t heard because it hurt. Boy did it hurt. My stomach twisted in knots hearing that he didn’t want to be around me anymore.
“Why?” He’d hurt my feelings and I needed to know what the hell had changed so drastically that he couldn’t bear to be near me anymore.
He looked troubled, evading my eyes. “Why, Noah? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. It’s me. It’s…” His gaze dropped, his face scrunching up. “You’re not supposed to want to kiss your best friend. It ain’t right.” He chuckled after. It was dry and humorless and I could tell the admission embarrassed him.
Meanwhile I was in a daze. He might as well have dropped that bull on my head. He wanted to kiss me? My heart was doing somersaults, practically jumping out of my chest.
This was the best news ever.
“I mean…it’s not totally wrong,” I muttered. I tried. Boy did I try.
His eyes returned to me narrowed. “Yeah, it is. I have a girlfriend and you’re my best friend. But I’m gonna do better.” He shook his head. “I promise I won’t let it get in the way anymore.”
This was the worst news ever.
“Better get inside. It’s late.”
In a funk, I dragged my sorry-ass feet up the porch steps.
“Maren,” he said as I was about to disappear inside. I turned and met his gaze, steady and warm on me. “I meant what I said––I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I nodded. Whatthefuckever. He didn’t want to want me and it dug a hole in my gut. “What I mean is I never want to be without you.”
“Okay,” I answered because I didn’t want to be without him either. We just wanted it in different ways.
* * *
“Where do y’all keep the romance books?”
Across the empty room of the town library, sorting books behind the counter, my mother glances up and smiles. My mother taught high school English until Annabelle got sick. For the first five years, Bebe’s illness required a lot of care and my mother was forced to retire. Once my sister was well enough to resume her studies, she began working part time at the library.
I’m not the type to hold a grudge…well, I mean…unless someone cheats on me. Which is why I’m here––to apologize for my little outburst at dinner. It wasn’t fair to them. How can I be upset when I’ve never once, over the years, given them any indication that it bothered me? That street travels both ways. I own half of the blame.
I walk around the counter and straight into my mother’s open arms. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner and said all those mean things.” Tucking my face in her neck, I sniff, hunting and finding the faint scent of old paper and Calvin Klein Eternity, so familiar and comforting it draws a smile on my face.
She hugs me even more tightly and pats my back. “Never apologize for your feelings, honey. They’re always relevant.”
I pull away. And as she considers what to say, a heavy frown forms on her face. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I felt guilty. You guys had to deal with so much already.” I shrug. “It sounds petty––even now.”
“We could’ve talked about it. Worked something out. Stayin’ quiet never helped anybody.” Her expression grows determined. “I spoke to your father and we’re coming to your next match––”
“Mom, that’s not––I don’t want you to do anything out of guilt. Guilt is a goddamn affliction in this family.”
“Watch your tongue, young lady,” she scolds with a mischievous smile.
“I need you guys sometimes. So from now on, when I do, I’m gonna say something.”
My mother nods and pulls me in for another hug. This one practically crushing my ribs. It’s like being hugged by a meat grinder. “That’s a deal.”
“I can’t breathe. You’re choking the life out of me.”
“Oh, hush. Between you and your sister, I don’t know who’s worse. Hey, you know what, Dad’s home early today and I know he’d love to spend some time with you.”
Maryanne Murphy, folks, subtle as a jackhammer.
“On my way.”
Two minutes later I step out of the library and step into a dumpster fire waiting to happen when I come face-to-face with Crystal Roy. Gripping the doors of the library, she sees me and her blue-green eyes grow as big as silver dollars.
“Maren.” She looks down at her son. “We’re returnin’ books,” she says brightly. Way too brightly.
The problem with hating Crystal is that it’s difficult to hate Crystal. She’s a nice person. And I’m talking genuinely nice. Always befriending the loners at school. Always sticking up for the kids other kids picked on. After high school, she did a stint in the Peace Corps. See what I mean, she’s nice. Or so I thought before my boyfriend’s dick tripped and fell into her wide-open vagina.
“Crystal,” I reply in a less than enthusiastic tone. I glance down at her adorable son.
“This is Charlie. Say hi, Charlie.”
“Hi.” Charlie sounds as sullen as I feel right now. “Momma, I gotta crap.”
Crystal’s eyes get even bigger. “Say you gotta go number two, Charlie, we spoke about this.” Then, to me, she says, “My father babysits during the week––this is what happens. He’s almost four. He repeats everything.” To Charlie, she says, “Daddy will be here soon.”
“I kind of have to go.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” She looks vulnerable, her voice tentative.
“Umm, I need to see my father,” is my reply, which is true; I owe my
father an apology. However, I mostly don’t want to talk to her because it’s awkward as all get out.
“It will only take a minute. I promise.”
Now she looks vulnerable and hopeful…like Bambi. Those big eyes blinking at me in eager anticipation. I can’t say no to Bambi and that bugs me.
“Fine,” I mutter sullenly. “A minute.”
“Oh great…thank you, really. I really…” Discomfort is all over her. She fidgets, raking back her long, dark hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“I gotta go crap!”
“In a minute, Charlie.”
Charlie is now pulling at the seat of his pants. It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is headed.
“I wanted to apologize. Gosh, I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” She presses the heel of her palm to her forehead, looks away again. She’s incapable of standing still. “It’s been eating me up for years. And…and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation outside the library. “It takes two to cheat, Crystal. And it’s Noah I was in a relationship with––not you.”
“Yeah, but––” Her face scrunches up. Mine does as well. Go ahead, guess what we smell.
“I did a crap.” Charlie grins and giggles.
A tall, good-looking stranger walks up to us and gives me a brief smile. “Sorry I’m late.” His gaze flickers over Crystal for a disinterested second before moving down to Charlie. “Ready, buddy?” Charlie nods.
Crystal’s lips slowly curve into a fake smile. “Oh, he’s ready, Dean. You two have a great weekend.”
“Bye bye, Momma.” Holding on to his dad’s hand, Charlie waves over his shoulder with the other.
“Bye, baby. Love you.” She blows Charlie a kiss and watches father and son walk away.
“I did a crap,” I hear Charlie tell his father.
“I’m so proud of you, little man.”
Crystal’s sober gaze slides from them to me. “My ex.” I nod. “He cheated.”
Oh.
“At first, I felt sorry for you. You know, always following him around like a lost puppy. Until I realized how much he cared about you. How close you two really were. I was jealous. I told myself that he was mine first. I saw my chance and took it.”
She obviously didn’t get the memo that said I claimed him when I was ten. “I don’t know what to say, Crystal,” is what I say because how else am I to respond to this unfiltered verbal dump that is only making me feel worse.
“He talked to you. Really talked to you. He never talked to me and it…it drove me crazy.”
Yeah, I don’t feel bad.
“That night––”
“No.” I’m shaking my head instantly. “No, I don’t want to talk about that night. Not now, not ever.”
“He cried after,” she blurts out.
She might as well have exploded a glitter bomb in my face. I’m shocked and confused––if one could be those two things at once.
“He was so torn up.” Face tight, she looks down, away. Anywhere other than at me. “He tried to hide it from me but I saw his face. He was crying.”
Chapter Sixteen
Maren
Nothing like tragedy to separate the wheat from the chaff. Zach and I began dating late my sophomore year. Noah was still with Crystal. True to his word, we started spending time together again, playing video games and talking about everything. Like his goal to be drafted in the first round to the Dallas Cowboys. That hadn’t changed over the years; he was as single-minded in the pursuit of his dreams as I was of mine. Which college would be best to showcase his talents as a wide receiver. We talked about his parents pending divorce. He told me it broke his heart but it was better than listening to them argue all the time. There wasn’t anything we didn’t discuss…except for us.
I caught his eyes resting on my boobs and legs for a few minutes longer than decent on many occasions. He never made a move though. Not once. So I shut that part of myself off, resigned myself to being his best friend and maybe giving someone else a chance to steal my heart away.
Noah and Crystal had both decided to attend the University of Oklahoma. Things had been rocky between them for a while. I only knew this from what little Noah told me. I didn’t pry. By then all hope had been lost.
Zach and I had been dating close to a year the day Annabelle got sick. It was late October. The first cool day of the season and Zach talked me into ditching practice and Bebe’s match to go with him and a bunch of his baseball teammates to the OU home football game.
Excluding the times when our matches coincided, I had never missed one of Bebe’s matches nor had she ever missed any of mine. Noah was playing for OU that day. He was the reason I agreed to go. Not without some guilt. Zach didn’t know how I felt about Noah. All he knew was that he was a family friend, a big brother of sorts.
If he had any idea about the filthy dreams I was having about my big brother, he might not have asked me to go. Zach and I hadn’t slept together and he was getting increasingly more aggressive about it.
“I swear, Maren, you only get shy when I’m trying to kiss you,” he slurred, his hazel eyes glazed over.
As good as it had been with Zach, and it had been––spending time with him made me feel semi-normal and he understood how important tennis was to me––there was no denying that something was missing.
We were in his teammate’s girlfriend’s Jetta, the only person sober enough to drive. Packed liked sardines in the back with two other guys on the baseball team I didn’t know very well, I had to sit on Zach’s lap to fit.
The bunch of them had started drinking early and Zach was already well on his way to being completely plastered. The stench of beer and whiskey wasn’t exactly putting me in the mood to make out in front of an audience.
“Your friends are right next to you,” I muttered.
“They’ve seen me kiss a girl before.” He laughed and I almost asked the driver, Jessica, to stop the car so I could get out. “Relax, baby.” He sucked on my neck, grazed the skin with his teeth. I shoved him away as much as I could with the little room we had.
By the time we reached the stadium and parked, the game was about to start, the OU team soon to be running out onto the field. Ditching a drunk Zach in the parking lot, I pushed through the crowd to get as close to the tunnel that led to the locker room as possible.
I wanted to see Noah and wish him luck. Between my training schedule and him being at university, I hadn’t seen him much that year. He always made time for me when he came to visit his parents but that was about it.
“Hey, eighty-eight! Noah Callahan!” I yelled as soon as I spotted his number running out with the rest of his team.
Hearing my voice, he turned and scanned the fence line until he found me. With a wide bright grin that made my heart ache, he jogged up and held out a fist, amber eyes shining in unabashed amusement.
“On jump.”
“On jump,” I echoed and fist-bumped him.
“Wait for me here after the game. I need to talk to you.”
I remember the thrill of anticipation I felt. I had no idea why he wanted me to wait for him, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. When he turned, to get back to the sideline, Crystal waved at him from the other side of the tunnel. His smile flattened, his expression suddenly troubled. It was enough to confirm that they were indeed having issues.
“Talk soon,” he said, before making his way over to her.
I watched, stomach twisting in knots, as she grabbed him by the jersey and placed a quick kiss on her lips.
Zach and the rest of crew never made it into the stadium. I stood at that fence line alone until halftime, long enough to watch Noah catch the touchdown pass that put the Sooners ahead. After which, I found Zach and his friends still hanging in the parking lot and in no condition to whether a mob of OU football fans. By the time they dropped me off at my house, four hours later, Zach and I were no lon
ger speaking. Whatever Noah had to speak to me about was overshadowed and forgotten by the sad realization that Zach and I were close to done.
There was a note on the kitchen counter in my mother’s sharp, cursive handwriting.
come to the emergency room. take a cab.
I’ll never forget the panic, the crushing weight on my chest as I rode over not knowing what to expect.
When I got there, it was in time to see the doctor talking to my parents and grandfather, so I knew it had to be Annabelle. My mother broke out into loud wailing sobs and my knees turned to Jell-O, barely able to hold me up.
They weren’t sure Annabelle would make it through the night.
I spent the next two hours curled up on a hard plastic chair outside the ICU praying to God to let my sister live, throwing everything I had to give into that bargain.
Someone called my name and I looked up to find Noah jogging down the hallway. Face pale and eyes filled with sympathy. A moment later he was scooping me up in his arms and holding me, absorbing the spasms of my body for hours as I finally broke down and cried.
“I got you,” he kept whispering in my ear. “One minute at a time. One hour at a time. We’ll get through this together.”
He didn’t leave my side for five days. Feeding me, driving me back and forth to my house. He slept next to me every night, his big body curled around me, holding me while I cried. Zack didn’t show up at the hospital, or try to call me once even though news of what had happened to Annabelle spread like wildfire in town.
But Noah…he held my hand until the doctors were sure Annabelle was going to make it.
To this day I don’t know how he got the time off from the team, being their number one wide-out. He never did say.
By the time I made it back to school, two weeks later, I knew what I had to do. I walked right up to Zach, who was hanging at his locker before first period, and told him it was over. He made a weak attempt to get me back with a bunch of I’m sorry voicemails and emails, but I never looked back. Any doubt about whether my feelings for Noah were real disappeared the moment I saw him jogging down that hospital hallway.
