Escape With You

by Rachel Schurig

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ellie

  “So who’s going to be at this party?” Fred asks as he pulls up in front of the house at the end of the street.

  “Usual crowd,” I tell him, lifting my foot to the dash to tie my shoe. He smacks my foot and I stick my tongue out at him, making him smile. I realize that I’m smiling back and probably looking like a goofy teenager in the process, so I duck my head to concentrate on my laces.

  “So, Zoe and Hunter,” he says. “And Everett?”

  I finish with my shoes and lower my foot. “Yeah. And Mary and her boyfriend, Kris. And Katherine, obviously, since it’s her house.”

  He nods. “Sounds good. You ready?”

  I nod and we both open our doors. Before my feet are on the concrete Fred has come around to my side of the truck. He takes my hand and pulls me the rest of the way down, shutting the door behind me.

  “Did you seriously just get my door for me?” I ask.

  He rolls his eyes. “Getting your door would have meant opening it. I just shut it for you.”

  “Because my girl arms are just too weak to do it myself?”

  He snorts and pinches my bicep. “Yeah. Because we both don’t know that you could kick my ass if you wanted to.”

  I bat my eyelashes at him and he laughs. “Hey, you two,” Hunter calls out from the darkness and I immediately pull my hand away from Fred’s.

  “Hi,” I call back, trying to keep my voice light in spite of the fact that I can just feel Fred’s hurt expression boring into the side of my head. I speed up my pace a little bit so that I catch Hunter before he reaches the porch. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” He turns back. “Hey, Fred.”

  “What’s up?” Fred asks. Am I imagining the strain in his voice?

  “I’m definitely in need of this party,” Hunter says, climbing the steps to the front door. “It’s been a rough week.”

  “You okay?” I ask. In the light from the porch I search his expression. He looks tired and tense, very unlike Hunter.

  “I’m fine.” He kisses my cheek. “Had a chat with Dad so I’ve been a bit down.”

  My stomach drops. I hate Hunter’s parents more than just about anyone in the world. He had promised he would stop taking their calls.

  “It’s fine,” he assures me, smiling. “Nothing a few drinks and some good company can’t cure.”

  Because he clearly wants me to drop it, I do, following him into the house without another word. A lot of our friends are in the living room and we say hello to several as we make our way into the kitchen.

  “Have you seen Zoe?” he asks as we stand in line for the keg.

  “She was with Jet,” I tell him. “I don’t know when they’re planning on getting here.”

  We get our beer and head for the basement in search of Zoe. At the stairs, Fred is stopped by a friend I don’t know. He raises his eyebrows at me as he stops and I wonder if he wants to introduce us. For some reason that sets off my nerves so I wave with my free hand and follow Hunter down the stairs.

  We find Zoe sitting with Jet, Everett and our friends, Kris and Mary. I want to get Hunter away from the crowd so I can ask him what the hell happened with his parents, but he seems a lot happier now that he’s talking with his friends so I sit on the couch with him and the rest of the group.

  I sip my beer as Everett tells us a story about the drunk frat boy who passed out in his apartment while trying to buy weed. Everett, who’s been selling pot for as long as I’ve known him, has a lot of stories like this. I usually laugh along with everyone else but tonight, for some reason, I’m missing some of the appeal. Maybe it just feels tired to me, hearing the same story with the same group of people in the same old party setting. Though I’d practically ditched him upstairs, I’m relieved when Fred shows up a minute later, sitting next to me on the couch.

  “I brought you a refill,” he says, handing me another plastic cup. “Figured you’d be ready for one by now, knowing you.”

  I stick out my tongue at him but my point is rather lost when I realize I am, in fact, out of beer already.

  “Hey, guys.” Katherine, the host of the party, stops in front of us. “Glad you could make it. Everybody found the beer okay?” Zoe and Hunter both hold up their cups to show her. “Good. Let me know if you need anything. Oh, there’s a beer pong table in that closet if you want to play.” She nods at Everett. “See if any of you can beat the reigning champion.”

  Hunter and Zoe both groan as Katherine gives us a wave and heads off to greet more guests. “What’s that about?” Fred asks me.

  “Everett is, like, a world class beer pong player. He’s impossible to beat.”

  Fred gives him an appraising look. “I don’t know. I’m pretty good at beer pong. He’s never played against me.”

  I shake my head. “Whatever, man. He’s, like, scary good.” I hold up my hands. “But by all means, give it a shot.”

  Kris and Mary set up the beer pong table while Zoe heads upstairs for more plastic cups. Once we’re good to go, Everett splits us up into teams. I find myself grouped up with Mary, Kris, and Fred. “This is good,” I tell Fred just loud enough for Zoe to hear. “Zoe and Hunter totally suck.”

  She flips me off and promptly hits her first cup square in the center. She points at me. “Ellie can take it.”

  “How cruel of you,” I tell her, grabbing the cup. “Making me drink the delicious beer.”

  We play a few rounds and it’s apparent that the teams are evenly matched. The rest of us are okay while Fred and Everett are both very, very good. Pretty soon we all give up, leaving it to the two of them to battle it out. When Everett misses his throw, Hunter holds up his hand under Fred’s chin like a microphone.

  “This is it, Fred. The last shot. You make this and you’re the winner. Tell our fans at home—how are you feeling?”

  “I’m feeling good, Hunt, feeling good.” He nods his head several times, eyeing the table. I’m torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to roll my eyes. Fred cracks his knuckles and passes me on the way to his position, slapping my ass as he goes.

  “Hey!” I cry, and he holds up his hands in surrender.

  “Sorry, babe, just trying to get into the spirit.”

  He stands at the front of the table, Ping-Pong ball in hand, analyzing the table. “Just fucking throw it already!” Jet calls, and I snort.

  “This is serious,” Fred shoots back. “All the glory is on the line.”

  He takes a deep breath, narrows his eyes, and tosses the ball. It sails right into the middle of Everett’s cup.

  “Yes!” Fred cries, raising his arms over his head. “I am victorious!”

  I let out a loud whoop and Fred grabs me, swinging me up into a twirl before kissing me. I laugh as he sets me down. When he proceeds around the circle, demanding that everyone high-five him, I shake my head. He might be ridiculous, but it’s awful cute when he acts like a little boy, all pleased with himself and gleeful.

  As he comes back to my side, he slips an arm around me and I relax into him without thinking. It’s a place I’ve gotten used to, over the last few weeks, my head right under his chin, the smell of him surrounding me. He grins down at me and, as I look up into his face, I catch sight of Everett across the table. He has a surprised look on his face, and it takes me a minute to realize that it has nothing to do with losing to Fred at beer pong.

  A quick look to his left tells me that Mary has a similar expression of surprise as she watches me and Fred. My mind flips over the events of the night, seeing it from their perspective. Fred bringing me a drink. Slapping my ass and teasing me. Him kissing me and swinging me around after his win.

  Great.

  I pull away from Fred automatically, feeling exposed and strangely nervous. There’s no ill will in their expressions, but I hate the way they’re looking at me nonetheless. It’s obvious to me now that Fred and I have been acting like a couple all night, and that everyone has probably noticed it.<
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  “You okay?” Fred asks, still grinning as I pull away.

  “Yeah,” I say, turning from him. “I just…I need another beer.”

  I take off for the stairs, needing distance a lot more than I need alcohol. So stupid, I think to myself. Acting like that out in public. At the top of the stairs I bypass the keg and head for the back deck instead. It’s chilly outside, but I need a minute to get it together before I go back downstairs. If I go back downstairs. Maybe it’s time for me to check out what’s going on with the guests up here.

  To my surprise, Fred ducks through the sliding glass door to the deck moments after I do. “Hey, you okay?”

  I nod, wishing he would have stayed downstairs. Now they’ll all be wondering why he came up after me. If they had suspicions before, they would be pretty much confirmed now.

  “You’re not,” he says, joining me at the railing. He leans into it, crossing his arms. “I know what’s going on, Ells.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intended.

  “You’re freaking out because you think we’re acting too much like a couple in front of your friends.”

  “Well, we are,” I point out.

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “Uh, maybe because we aren’t a couple?” I shoot back.

  “Which we both know.” He sounds unconcerned. “So why does it matter to you what anyone else thinks?”

  I don’t know how to respond. “I just…I don’t like people having the wrong idea.”

  He shakes his head. “What does it matter? You and I know what our relationship is, what we’ve agreed on. Zoe and Hunter and Jet know—our closest friends. Why does it matter if other people don’t get it? Why do you care? It’s our business, isn’t it?”

  It sounds shallow when he puts it like that. “I know. I know I shouldn’t care. I make it a point to never care what people think.”

  He chuckles softly. “You love that people think you’re a bad ass and you know it.”

  He’s absolutely right, of course. “Well, bad ass girls don’t have boyfriends,” I tell him. “So you’re totally messing with my rep right now.”

  His face clouds over a little and suddenly he looks much more serious than I’m used to. “We’re grown ups, Ellie. And I, personally, don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.” He leans in a little closer and my stomach dips at the intensity in his face, the nearness of his body. “I like what we’re doing. I like being with you. That’s all I care about.”

  I nod, my throat feeling suddenly dry.

  “Aren’t you having fun?” he presses, his face inching closer to mine.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, feeling overwhelmed by the nearness of him, by the steeliness and authority in his tone. Then he grins and I feel the knot of tension in my chest dissolve.

  “Then go with that, okay? Just go with the fun.”

  “Go with the fun,” I repeat and he nods.

  “Go with the fun. It’s like you told me at the tattoo parlor—sometimes you just have to let go, right?”

  “Yeah.” I think about the rose on his calf, about the butterfly emerging from the cocoon on my hip. Just like that I feel stronger, more sure of myself. What do I care what the people down there think of me? I know exactly what I am and exactly what I want.

  And what I want, right now, is for Fred to take me home. To take me to my bed where we can spend the entire night letting go.

  So I lean up and kiss him before taking his hand and leading him back out through the party, not even caring who might be watching.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fred

  After Ellie and I fall asleep that night, I dream of my old friend Jim.

  I know it’s a dream right away. Jim’s been gone for five years now, and that knowledge is ever-present, even when I’m sleeping. Besides, I’ve dreamt this one before, lots of times. But I still can’t seem to stop myself from walking down the bleacher steps toward him, his blond hair bright in the lights, his frame already getting gaunt. I still walk forward, even though I know how it all ends.

  “Hey, Fred.” The sound of his voice is a punch to the gut, the easy, warm smile on his face still familiar after all this time.

  “Jim.” My voice sounds loud in the bleachers and I realize the other fans are muted, nearly silent.

  “He’s having a good game,” Jim says, turning toward the baseball diamond. And there’s Jeremy, crouching to steal second, ready to earn his nickname—Jet—with his trademark burst of speed.

  “He always has a good game,” I reply, watching him get ready to take off. “There he goes.” I know my lines by heart—after all, this part of the dream is real. A memory I’m forced to repeat time after time in my sleep.

  Jim is smiling broadly, watching his little brother run, nearly to third before anyone else even realizes he’s on the move. His smile fades a little as the sound of the crowd around us revs up, not quite so dull and muted as before. “You’re going to have to help him, Fred.”

  I want to turn away, want to stomp my feet or cover my ears. I don’t want to have this conversation again. But my voice, as if operating under someone else’s control, continues with the script. “What do you mean, help him?”

  Jim turns to me and his eyes are so sad it takes my breath away. “After I’m gone.”

  A voice in my head is screaming, begging him not to go. It’s been the three of us, Jim, Jeremy, and me, since we were kids. I don’t want to lose him. But the dream continues on, the way it always does. “Don’t talk like that, man. You’re going to be fine.”

  Jim shakes his head. “I don’t think so. And it’s okay, really. Except…well, except him. He’ll have a rough time.”

  “Come on, Jim, this is morbid—”

  “It’s important, Fred. Really important.” And the part I’ve been dreading ever since I realized what dream it was happens—Jim turns to me, his blue eyes huge in his pale face, lit up with a manic kind of fire. “It’s going to be rough on him. He’s going to need you, man. And you have to promise me—promise me!— that you’ll take care of him.”

  “I promise,” I whisper, but in my head I’m yelling. I tried but I couldn’t! I couldn’t stop him from getting in that fight, he could have died, could have killed someone! I tried, but I couldn’t stop him from taking those pills. I tried but I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t—

  “Fred? Fred, it’s okay. Wake up.”

  My eyes fly open, my heart pounding hard. It takes me a minute to realize where I am. The only thing I’m sure of is the voice gently speaking my name, the feel of the soft hand on my shoulder. Ellie is here.

  “Ells?” I whisper, my voice a rasp in the darkness.

  “You were having a nightmare,” she says, and I feel her fingers flutter across my forehead as she moves her hand to brush my hair away from my face. “You okay?”

  I will my body to relax, taking deep breaths. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her, hoping my voice sounds less shaky than it feels.

  My eyes are slowly adjusting to the dark of her room. Ellie raises up on her elbow so she can look down on me. “You sure? It took forever to wake you up.”

  I wonder what I was doing, what she heard. I’m too chicken to ask. Instead I reach for her, relieved when she sinks down into my chest without question. I feel immediately calmed, having her here.

  “You wanna talk about it?” she asks after a minute.

  I exhale deeply. Do I want to talk about it? I never really have before, not with anyone. Who would I tell, besides Jet? And how would that conversation go?—Dude, I have a recurring nightmare about your dead brother.

  “You were saying Jeremy’s name,” Ellie says, her voice very soft. “That’s Jet, right? Were you dreaming about him?”

  I close my eyes. Great. “I have this dream…uh, quite a bit, I guess. About Jet’s brother.”

  “Jim?”

  “Yeah. He…he tells me I have to take care
of Jeremy—of Jet—because he won’t be around.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, but I notice her hands have started to rub gently along my forearm. “Did that…did that really happen?”

  I nod. “Yeah. He told me a few months before he died that he knew it was going to happen. I didn’t want to believe him, but…”

  “But he did. And you still feel like you have to take care of Jet now.”

  “Yeah. It’s like…I promised.”

  “He’s a grown man now, Fred.”

  “I know. It’s not like I feel responsible for him or anything.” It wasn’t exactly true, but no reason for her to know it. “I just, I know I’m supposed to be there for him, you know? It’s what a brother would do. And it’s what Jim would have wanted.”

  “I think Jim would be totally satisfied with how supportive you’ve been.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Yeah. I stood by while he drank the last five years away. Stood by while he got in countless bar fights—including one that sent the other guy to the hospital and Jet to jail. And I stood by this summer while he almost drank himself to death and eventually OD’d.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped any of that,” she said, her voice firm. “What were you gonna do—physically hold him back?”

  “I could have—”

  “You were there,” she interrupts. “You were there no matter what stupid, asshole thing he did. He always knew he could count on you. That’s all you could do.”

  I sigh, trying to let her words sink in. I know she’s right, deep down. But it’s harder to make myself feel it.

  “You have this dream a lot?” she asks.

  “Sometimes there are variations,” I tell her, feeling sick. “Sometimes it’s my mom—my real mom—instead of Jim. Telling me to help my family. Like, uh, help my dad so he doesn’t lose his company. Or…help my sister.”

  “God, Fred, when you said you were a professional worrier…”

  “I may have underestimated it a little.”

  She squeezes me, quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “Why haven’t I met your sister? You never talk about her.”