Trailed

by Naomi Niles

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Allie

  At around eleven, I drove over to the high school and found Lindsay sitting alone in her room eating a Greek salad.

  “Hey,” she said as I walked in. “Would you like a Fresca?”

  “Sure.” I pulled up a stray chair and sat down on the other side of her desk; every square inch of which was covered in forms, papers, and plastic three-ring binders. There was a miniature fridge behind her desk. She reached into it and pulled out a silver-green can, which she handed to me.

  “You must be the only teacher I know,” I said, “who comes in to work on a Saturday.”

  “Most of us work on Saturdays actually,” said Lindsay. “We just take our work home with us. I came in today because I had to input some grades that are due before midnight. Anyway, how’s the boy?”

  “He’s great. I’ve got some exciting news: he wants me and you and his brother to go square-dancing tonight at one of the bars on Fifth Street.”

  Lindsay absorbed this news with raised eyebrows. “Which brother?”

  “Zach, the hot one. The Navy SEAL.”

  “Well, I can’t say no to that.” She closed up her salad box and set the remains in the refrigerator. “I haven’t been invited out on a double date since before I got my degree. What else can you tell me about him?”

  “We haven’t gotten to talk much one-on-one, but we did go camping together. He’s quiet and serious, keeps to himself mostly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh.”

  “Sounds like a winner,” said Lindsay. “Let’s find him on Facebook.”

  She turned her monitor at an angle so that I could see. “You mean to tell me you and Curtis still aren’t friends?”

  “I need to fix that. We’ve been too busy making out.”

  “Shut up. What’s his last name?”

  “Savery, with an E.”

  Within a few seconds, she had brought up Zach’s profile page. Most of it we were unable to access without sending him a friend request, but there were several pictures of him wearing his crisp Navy uniform. Lindsay let out a thin yelp of excitement. “This is the man I’m going on a date with tonight?”

  “That’s the plan. I’m actually not sure Curtis has told Zach you’re coming yet. Let me text him.”

  “Perfect. In a few hours, I’ll be two-stepping with a hot guy who currently doesn’t know I exist.”

  “What could possibly go wrong?” I said as I texted Curtis. “I’ll tell him to pick us up at your house.”

  “Are y’all still getting along?”

  “I haven’t been tempted to smother him in his sleep, so yes. He came over last night, and we spent the night together.”

  “Ooo, la, la,” said Lindsay. “Sometimes I forget we’re adults and we can do stuff like that now. That our parents won’t ground us if we don’t come home before sunrise.”

  “Weird, isn’t it? When did we get so old?”

  “It just happened one day when we weren’t looking. One day you’re twenty-four, and everybody’s talking about how you’re the youngest teacher in the English department and a ‘whip-smart young woman.’ Then the next day you’re twenty-five, your chances of landing a decent husband are rapidly fading, and nobody praises you just for doing your job.”

  “There’s not really an in-between, is there?” I said sadly. “The early twenties is all, ‘Whoa, you’re still just a baby!’ And the late twenties is, ‘Why haven’t you bought a house yet?’”

  “Well, anyway,” said Lindsay, clicking her heels together, “hopefully after tonight I won’t have to worry about it. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning to find myself married in Vegas, nursing the nastiest hangover of my life.”

  “Every young woman’s dream,” I said, raising my Fresca can in a mock toast. “Or, I guess we’re old women now.”

  “Just a couple of old maids,” said Lindsay, and we both laughed.

  ***

  Curtis and Zach met us at Lindsay’s house at around six. We’d gone thrift-store shopping earlier in the day and decked ourselves out in the most garish, stereotypically Texan attire we could find: broad-brimmed Stetsons, leather boots with silver spurs, cactus-print button-downs over beige camisoles, and matching belts with enormous golden buckles in the shape of Texas.

  “Well, what do you think?” I asked Curtis. “Texan enough? Do you think I’ll blend in?”

  “Honey, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” said Lindsay. “I went to a Christmas party at the end of last year and there was a guy there wearing an ugly sweater with green lights, and the green lights were arranged so that they spelled out the word ‘TEXAS.’”

  “What is the deal with everyone here needing to wear something with Texas on it, or with the word ‘Texas’ on it?” I asked. “The other week I went over to Waffle House for breakfast, and the fry cook served me a Texas-shaped waffle. You know we don’t have Massachusetts-shaped waffle irons in Boston?”

  “Well, nobody’s gonna want to eat a Massachusetts-shaped waffle,” said Curtis.

  Realizing that he wasn’t going to be much help, I turned to Zach for assistance. “Zach, you’ve traveled around. Have you ever been to a state that was as obsessed with itself as Texas is?”

  Zach shook his head. “Can’t say I have. They don’t have pictures of the shape of Oregon hanging up in the liquor stores in Portland.”

  “That’s because everybody implicitly understands that Texas is the best state,” said Curtis. “Why brag about some other state that you live in?”

  We continued our argument on the way to the Palladium. It billed itself as a bar, but it was really more of a dance hall with a live band playing a lounge-style version of the Boot-Scootin’ Boogie on bass, fiddle, trumpets, trombone, piano, and steel guitar. A couple dozen men and women swayed and kicked their heels to the music, most of them wearing blue jeans, hats, and belts with large buckles. A few older women at the front of the stage raised their hands and mouthed the words along with the band. It was the kind of place that in an earlier era would have been filled with smoke from a hundred cigarettes and cigars.

  As we danced, Curtis said something low in my ear, but I could barely hear him over the din of the band and the chatter of the crowd around us.

  “What was that?” I asked as he spun me around.

  “I said you’re a natural at two-stepping!” he said loudly. “The way you pick up these skills, one would think you were a native.”

  I smiled. “What other skills have I picked up?”

  “Camping, horseback riding, understanding the language…”

  “Well, I’ve got you to thank for most of that. You’re not such a bad dancer yourself! I mean, I’ve never seen anyone two-step before tonight, but from what I can tell, you’re pretty good at it!”

  “Thanks!” said Curtis, scooting his boots across the floor. “I’ve been workin’ at it for a long time!”

  Meanwhile, a few paces away, Zach and Lindsay were bobbing and spinning with the practiced ease of a couple that had been dancing together all their lives. Lindsay turned me a smile as they passed us, the kind of smile that said, “Have no doubt, I’m having the time of my life.”

  We left the bar at around 9:00pm and met Darren at Monterey’s on Main Street. It was happy hour, and he graciously offered to buy us all drinks and appetizers. I ordered a bowl of nachos laden with ground beef and queso, and a pale ale, while Curtis ordered chicken wings and a hard apple cider. When Curtis asked Darren where he’d gotten the money, Darren gave him a shifty look and coughed into his hand, as if to say, “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”

  At around 1:00am, the barman flicked the lights off, and a waitress began piling chairs onto the tables. “Well,” said Curtis, gathering up our empty baskets, “you think we ought to be heading home?”

  “Lindsay brought her own car,” I said, “so I can head back with you and Zach if there’s room in the car.”

  But Zach shook his head. “Sorry, guys,”
he said, grabbing his keys and wrapping one arm around Lindsay, who leaned into him and smiled a mischievous smile. “I’m not going home tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Curtis

  By the time we left the bar, Darren was too drunk to drive, so Zach wrestled his keys away from him, and I dragged him out to my car.

  “Where we goin’?” he asked, pawing at my shoulder. “This don’t look like Mama’s house.”

  “Is that where you wanna go?” I turned to Allie. “You know, if we take him home, he’s just gonna be calling me in the morning wanting me to pick him up so he can get his car out of the parking lot. We might as well just bring him back to Mama’s.”

  “Won’t she be upset when she sees how drunk he is?” asked Allie.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” I replied. “But it’s late enough now that Mama and Daddy are probably sleeping. As long as someone keeps his voice down, Darren, we should be able to get in and get you laid down without too much trouble.”

  “I’m not any trouble to nobody,” said Darren. “I didn’t know impersonatin’ an officer was illegal, honestly.”

  “Yeah, we’d better hurry up and get him home,” I said, quickening my pace rapidly as we approached the car.

  I managed to get Darren through the back door on the driver’s side while Allie claimed the front passenger’s seat. We drove home through dark and mostly deserted streets while “Friends in Low Places” played on the radio. Darren sang along to the verses he knew and made up words for the verses he didn’t. About halfway through the song, I looked over at Allie: she was resting her head against the window, mouthing along to the chorus.

  “Now Darren,” I said as we pulled into the driveway, “you’ve gotta stay quiet as we go in. Mom and Dad are asleep, and you really don’t want to wake them up.”

  “I ain’t wakin’ nobody up,” said Darren. “I’m hungry!”

  Allie and I exchanged nervous looks. There was a good chance that if the two of us just got out and left him there, he would curl up on one of my jackets and be asleep within ten minutes. On the other hand, there was also a chance I’d go out there tomorrow and find him lying face-down in a ditch. I decided to bring him in.

  I sent Allie ahead with the keys while I attempted to wrangle him out of the car.

  “Just grab onto my shoulder,” I told him as he groped his way toward the outside. “Just—just hold onto me!”

  “Curtis, you’ve gotta be quieter,” said Darren in an impressive imitation of my voice. “You’re gonna wake Mom up.”

  “Alright, into the house with you.” I grabbed him around the shoulders and carried him along, the heels of his boots dragging across the lawn. He hesitated at the porch steps as if confronted with some impassable object, but I pulled him ahead and through the door into the house.

  I went to the hall closet to get him a blanket, but by the time I returned to the living room, he had already fallen asleep on the couch.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” I said to Allie, but she didn’t answer. I turned to find her sprawled out on the love seat by the window, her nose in the air, fast asleep.

  ***

  When I went over to the house the next morning at around breakfast-time, I found Dad sitting in the recliner reading the Dallas Morning News while Mama made coffee in the kitchen. Darren and Allie were still sleeping.

  “They’ve been out since we woke up,” said Dad. “Y’all must’ve partied hard last night.”

  “We just went out line-dancing,” I said. “I was exhausted after just a couple of hours out on the floor. Apparently dancing takes the wind out of you when you’re over twenty-five. And also, Darren got drunk off his ass.”

  Mom shook her head in disapproval. “I wish one of you would have intervened before he had too many. I hope you didn’t let him drive himself home.”

  “No, we took away his keys long before that. That reminds me, though: one of us needs to drive over there and pick up his car. Or drop him off.”

  Darren let out a loud snore as if to suggest that he was in no mood to do it himself. It was loud enough to rouse Allie, who slowly rose and looked around at all of us with a perplexed expression.

  “What am I doing here? Hi, Mr. Savery. What did we do last night?”

  “Had a wild time, apparently,” said Dad.

  Mama came over and set down a couple of Advil and a mug of coffee on the table in front of the couch. “I don’t know how much you drank last night,” she said, “or if you’re just tired, but this ought to help.”

  Allie turned me, a panic-stricken look on her face, and mouthed the words, “Did I drink?”

  “Only a pale ale,” I said.

  “Maybe I’m just gettin’ old,” she said slowly, rubbing her arms. “Is this what the rest of my life is gonna be like? Not having the energy to do anything, being tired all the time?”

  “Pretty much,” said Dad from behind his paper.

  “Doesn’t really seem worth it,” said Allie. “I wish I could stay twenty-four forever.”

  “You’re welcome to,” I said, “but I think some of us are glad to have gotten some age and perspective.”

  “And some of us are glad that their sons have grown up,” said Mama, carrying over two plates of Spanish rice with avocado slices, greasy hash brown patties, and eggs over-easy and setting them down on the table. As if in response, Darren let out another loud snore.

  After breakfast, I walked Allie back to the tiny house.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she said groggily. “It feels like I’ve been drugged or something. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could go in there and sleep for the rest of the morning. Maybe the whole day.”

  “Looks like it’s fixin’ to rain,” I said. “You ought to put on a good movie and spend the rest of the day napping.”

  “That actually doesn’t sound like the worst idea,” said Allie. “I only have a few movies on DVD: The Princess Diaries, The Princess Bride, Dazed and Confused, and Prisoner of Azkaban. I’ve been meaning to raid your mom’s DVD collection.”

  “They don’t got much that would interest you,” I said. “Dad’s into war movies from the ‘40s and ‘50s, and Mama mostly watches romantic comedies.”

  “I don’t mind a good rom-com if there’s nothing else on,” said Allie. “I like Roman Holiday.”

  “Never heard of it,” I said, which was apparently the wrong thing to say. Allie glared at me and made a pouty face with her lips.

  “I’ll text your mom and see if she has a copy,” she said as she reached for her purse. “If she does, do you want to join me? I’m really sorry; I’m too tired to do anything else today.”

  I knew what she was hinting at, and somehow it didn’t bother me. “S’alright,” I said, placing a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “We don’t have to get physical every time we’re together. I guess, sometimes it’s enough just to be with you.”

  “You have no idea how sexy you’re bein’ right now,” said Allie, and she stood up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Allie

  On Sunday night, Dave called to let me know he was coming back into work.

  “And also,” he said, “Sarah has quit on us, so I’ll need someone to take her place at the desk until I can hire a new receptionist.”

  “By someone,” I asked, “do you mean me?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind doing that for me, that would be great. I sometimes wonder why we even have a receptionist and an assistant. The clinic is so small; it seems like one person could easily do both of those things.”

  I hung up the phone. Whatever he said, it sounded like he wasn’t looking particularly hard for a new receptionist. After I’d eaten dinner, I updated my resume on Monster.com and Indeed.com. There had to be another clinic somewhere in the country that would be willing to hire a veterinarian’s assistant with four months’ experience in a rural clinic. If I ended up
having to move, I would probably have to break up with Curtis. I liked him, and I would miss him, but it wasn’t like we were in love.

  Well, I didn’t know about him. But at least I wasn’t.

  We’d known each other for all of about two weeks. It was nice to have someone I could go dancing and camping with, someone to keep my bed warm at night. But if I had to move, I didn’t doubt that I could find another guy to fill that position.

  What I worried about was how Curtis would handle it. Sometimes when he looked at me, I had the horrible feeling that he was way more into me than I was into him. How would he react when I told him I was moving to Austin or Seattle? If it was Austin, he might try to follow me. If Seattle, it would almost certainly break his heart.

  “It just doesn’t seem fair to him, you know?” I told Lindsay over the phone Wednesday morning on the way to work. “He’s a great guy. But every day we’re together, it seems like he just falls more in love with me, not realizing that I’m probably going to shake the dust of this town off my feet the first chance I get.”

  “Sounds like it’s time for another one of those ‘defining the relationship’ talks,” said Lindsay. “Just let him know that you like dating him and would like to continue dating him for the foreseeable future, but he doesn’t mean anything more to you than that.”

  “That makes it sound like we’re friends with benefits,” I said. “He already has one of those.”

  “He what?”

  “Well, had. Apparently he broke it off shortly after we started dating. He says I’m the only one for him.”

  “That’s oddly sweet, but also you should definitely talk to him. You don’t want him picking out rings when you don’t even know where you’re going to be living in three months.”

  Lindsay was right, of course. It wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to having, but I didn’t see how it could be avoided, and postponing it was only going to make it that much worse when we finally had it.

  When I entered the clinic that morning, I found Dave seated at the front desk in the lobby trying to teach Tomas how to speak German.