by Finn, Emilia
I turn back to the front and grunt. Because that’s all I’ve got for her.
Picking up my cell, I open the text chat and scroll the hundreds of messages. Hundreds. “Jules is still ages away from having her baby.”
Laine snickers. “I know. He’s gonna be so exhausted by the time she pushes. She’s gonna kill him when she finds out he’s texting us a live play-by-play.”
“Bets on boy or girl?”
She hums under her breath as though it helps her think. “Girl. I think a baby girl will bring Alex to his knees, and he deserves a mini-Jules after all the bullshit over the years. Someone’s gotta make him humble.”
I read the constant stream of texts. “You think girl, I’ll say boy. Ten-dollar wager?”
“You still didn’t pay me the ten from the manual bet. I don’t see any Super manuals lying around, Angelo.”
“It’s coming. Give the man time.”
“It’s been ages!” Snip, snip, snip. “Post takes like, a few days at most. Let’s allow for a sec, maybe this owner was around when the car rolled off the production line, so he’s like seventy now, at least, so I’ll allow another week for him to shuffle his saggy ass to the post office…” She giggles. “No. You were so fleeced. You owe me ten bucks, then I’ll take another ten because Jules will have a girl.”
“I’m doubling down.” Stubbornly, I shake my head and nearly lose an ear. “The manual’s coming, and Alex created a monster boy that’ll probably arrest us all at some point.”
“Fine. Let’s double down on your original double – I have no problems taking your cash – but it’s like a fifty dollar bet now. Are you sure you can handle that heat?” Spinning my chair, she leans forward until our eyes are level, and before I can process my new position, she pulls my hair forward and works to even it out. “I say baby girl, and I reckon she’ll be named after family. He’s too sentimental not to name her after Britt.”
“You think?” I open my legs when she steps closer. Her thighs touch mine, and my heart seizes. “I say boy, and maybe he’ll name him after Oz or something. You’re right about him being sentimental.”
“Maybe he’ll name him Ang?” She nibbles on her bottom lip and shows far more cleavage than I can comfortably handle. “How would that feel? Surreal, right?”
“Angelo’s a shitty name,” I grumble. “I don’t know a single decent guy with that name.”
Her brows pinch. “You’re a good guy. You’re one of the best, actually. And your daddy’s gone, which means it’s not his name anymore.” Before I can argue, she stands tall and cuts me off. “Done.”
“Done?”
“Uh-huh.” Dropping the scissors on my desk, and the comb beside them, she brushes loose strands of hair from her shirt and studies her work. “Yeah, I think it’s done. I didn’t take too much off, but it’s enough to make this summer easier for you. You got a mirror in here?”
“Nah. Let me go to the bathroom and check. I’ve been busting to pee, anyway.”
“Okay.” Walking around my chair, she carefully pulls the towel away and works hard not to drop hair everywhere. When I’m clear, I grab my cell and walk toward the door.
“Grab a soda or something if you want.” I run my hand through hair several inches shorter than it was twenty minutes ago and try to slow my racing heart. She took too much. She took way too much. “Jules still has ages till she delivers, so we can hang out till then if you want.”
Bending over, and killing me piece by piece, she collects hair and tosses it in the trash. “Wanna watch a movie at your place? We could get takeout and wait for Jules. Maybe you could play some music for me.”
“Yeah…” Kill me now. Fucking kill me now. I’m done. “Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.” I hustle to the bathroom and push the door open. Slamming it at my back and racing to the mirror with wide eyes, I run my hands through my new look.
Shiiiiit.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
“Ang?” Standing just on the other side of the door, Laine knocks. “Do you like it?”
“I love it!” My voice shakes as surely as my hands when I pull the cell from my pocket. “It’s so good! You did a great job.”
“Yeah?” She lets out a happy sigh and leans against the door. “I’m so glad you like it. I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before.”
“You did great, especially for the first time.” Opening my text screen, I exit the group chat and pull Caitlin’s number up.
Me: HELP! Emergency. SOS. Fucking help me! I’ll pay you triple.
Caitlin: What did you do, Sweetcheeks?
Me: I missed my appointment, so I let a girl cut it.
Caitlin: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That’ll teach your stupid ass. Boys so rarely think with their brains. This is karma for standing me up, so now you gotta wear your punishment until you’re sorry for cheating on me.
Me: I AM sorry! Please help me. She gave me a fucking bob. Like, a 1990’s Martha Stewart.
Caitlin: Baby, me and Ashley are busy stalking the fight gym right now ‘cause they should come out soon and they’re always so sweaty and sexy. I’m booked out all day Saturday. You can pay me quadruple and I’ll fit you in Sunday. Final offer.
“Ang?”
I fumble my cell and almost drop it into the sink. “Yeah. Just finishing up.”
Me: Fine! I’ll wear a hat. Don’t cancel on me, woman!!! I need you.
Caitlin: That’s what all the cute boys say.
I dig a hand into my pocket and pull out a spare elastic. Pulling my hair back and gritting my teeth at the bits too short to tie up, I pull it back as best I can and wish away the next forty-eight hours of my life.
21
Laine
Road Trip
Juliette and Alex’s baby arrived in the early hours of Friday morning, two full weeks overdue, and exactly the way we expected; loud and demanding. It was the first time in a long time that I was part of a group chat again, but though I kept up to date, though I read all the texts on my tiny not-a-smart-phone screen, I didn’t participate in the chat.
I was a watcher, and Ang stepped up as our representative while I prayed everything would be okay… and ate Chinese takeout.
Alex sent out a million texts, starting with ‘she’s three centimeters!’ and moving right through to ‘the baby is blonde! I see the blonde hair.’
By two in the morning, with tired eyes and sluggish movements, I sat on the couch beside Ang and finally breathed easy when the final text came in.
Alex: She’s here. My baby’s here, and she’s a she.
Alex: Avery Hope Turner. Eight pounds, seven ounces, and twenty-one inches long.
Then a minute later when reality settled in, he followed it with: Guys. I have a baby girl. I’m so in love.
I cried for the guy I consider my brother, I smacked Ang’s shoulder and demanded my money, and when I couldn’t hold out anymore, when I couldn’t let the moment pass without saying something, I set up a brand-new group chat between my best friends; a chat that’s been active between me, Jess, Britt, and Kari since we first got cellphones back in seventh grade, but since my wild slide into Graham’s world, I let it die.
I ditched my friends for a guy, and that was really shitty of me.
Me: Britt…
I sat leaning against Ang with tears in my eyes and wobbling lips, and a nano-second later when her message shot back, I let out a silly sob.
Britt: Omg. Omg. Omg. Baby? You’re gonna make me cry.
That’s okay, because for that night, the tears in my eyes were cathartic and welcome.
Me: Congratulations, Aunty Britt. I love you so much.
That was three days ago. With confirmation that mom and baby are in perfect health, with beautiful flowers purchased, and tiny dresses that Jules will probably never use delivered, I stand on Kane’s front porch as the sun works to rise, a brand-new day beginning.
Wanda sits in the driveway, and after seven-thousand dollars and a new pa
int job, she sparkles and looks as good now as the day she rolled off the showroom floor.
I have Sonia’s blessing for this trip. I have her enthusiastic encouragement and her number on speed dial – just in case – so with my backpack hanging off one shoulder, and plastic bags full of snacks in both hands, I draw in a long breath, look into the horizon, and simply smile.
Freedom.
That’s what this is.
Pure, unfettered, unbreakable freedom that no one can ruin for me.
For there is one single minute in each day, that in-between moment where you’re not sure if it’s day or night; it’s the moment where you’re the only person in the entire universe.
You can breathe untainted air.
You can smile at the beautiful trees.
You can hear birds waking, and frogs croaking.
There are no monsters in this minute, no bad dreams, and no therapists. There are no grabbing hands except those of your lover’s, and only with your permission.
There’s nothing in this moment but you and however many billion cubic feet of unused air and the endless opportunities a brand-new day has to offer.
Today, I get to drive away from this town for just a little while. I don’t want to leave forever; this is my home, this is where my family is. But I need to leave long enough that when we get back, it comes with a reset button.
Today, I have nowhere to be, no deadlines to meet, no one I have to check in with. Just me, my car, my friends, an open roof, and road that won’t end until I decide I want it to.
Today’s perfect.
Moving down the front steps and onto spongy grass, I walk toward my shiny Wanda and luxuriate in her brand-new white wall tires.
Wanda gets a reset today, too.
Ang helped me rebuild her, he helped give her a new lease on life, and today, she gets to drive away and eat up the open road. When we return, she’ll be all mine and ready for a new life with someone that’ll take care of her.
There’s no central locking in this car, just good old-fashioned inserting a key into the lock, so with my bags weighing me down, I get the car open and the brand-new soft top roof back.
There’s no way in hell I’m driving this without the roof down.
Jess runs around Kane’s house snatching up last minute supplies for our long trip. Kane packed his single backpack last night, because he’s all army ranger or some such thing, and can happily survive so long as he has a fresh pair of socks and a gun.
Eric – Kane’s former housemate until my damaged self moved in and got him booted out – wanders through the house to make sure everyone has what they need. For the time we’ll be gone, he’s moving back in and working on administration stuff for the business Kane wants to start, so when we get back, they’ll be able to run headfirst into work.
This trip is like a last hurrah none of us knew was coming. We didn’t know we needed it, but we’re throwing ourselves into plans like it’s our last summer on earth.
Last winter proved that maybe it could be.
Tomorrow isn’t promised, and after everything that went down, I wonder if Kane and Jess need this time to decompress just as much as I do.
This is a road trip of freedom. Of healing. Of living today, just in case tomorrow forgets to come.
“Oh my God. Oh my God! I can’t find my skates!”
Kane’s laughter echoes through the house. “Why the hell do you need skates, Blondie? We’re driving!”
“What if we find a skate park? What if guys challenge us to the pipes, and then we can’t win, because we forget our skates?”
“Are you serious right now? Does that happen often? Are there skater gangs just waiting for people to pass through town? Do they set up barricades at the ‘welcome to town’ signs, and you can’t pass unless you know how to flipkick? Will they boo us out of town, Blondie? Are you scared you won’t win the participation ribbon?”
“It’s kickflip, not flipkick, you uneducated baboon. And yes! If there’s a ribbon to be won, I really want it!”
“I’ll protect you, Jessie.” His goofy snicker is a direct contrast to his thug looks. “I promise, if they challenge us to a skater duel, I’ll break their ankles.”
The deep rumble of a classic Charger echoes across town. I’m so accustomed to the sound now, it’s like I know where he is, what gear he’s in, and what kind of mood he’s in.
Angelo Alesi is on the move, and he’s coming our way.
With butterflies battering my stomach, and a heart that does odd cartwheels in my chest, I toss my bags into the backseat and rub a spit-wetted finger over a tiny mark on the door.
If anyone scratches my car, they’re dead meat.
Since Jess is having a meltdown in the house, and Kane is trying to clean up after her, and Eric is following them and offering useless shit that Jess can fill my car with, I lean against the Buick and wait for the Charger to come closer.
I know he’s coming here.
I know he’s coming with us.
And a surprisingly large portion of my heart is happy, and the happy is more demanding than the freaking out.
That’s good, right?
It’s not weird that this man I grew up with now makes me nervous. Right? We spent countless hours working in the garage in silence. Not a single butterfly. But then something happened; a lingering glance, a brushing of fingers, a night spent in companionable silence while we waited for a baby to be born.
An erection against my back while at a shooting range changes things, and lingering eyes when he thinks I’m not watching cements those changes.
Now, the guy that was sort of a big brother has become handsome to me. Charming.
Like I want to impress him.
And I get the feeling he’s ridiculously clueless.
Angelo and I have spent almost every single day together since I came out of the hospital, and before I ever met Graham, I was with him most days then, too.
He’s become a confidant of sorts.
Even on the days I said nothing, even when I busted my hands under a wrench and stood under the hood with tears in my eyes because Graham was on the backs of my eyelids each time I blinked, even if we spent the whole evening together, working together, but saying not one single word, he was still my confidant.
He was the only person I allowed into my space, and I didn’t know why until Sonia started asking questions. Things I simply accepted as ‘the way things are’ have become something I take a second look at.
Ang has this way of understanding what’s in my head, even though he never asks a single question. He’s easy in our silence. He doesn’t need to fill the void with useless chatter.
He’s just… comfortable.
And for a girl like me – the girl who used to be fearless, then became afraid of everything – that means something.
I’m trying to come to terms with the fact I might have a crush on my brother’s friend, but on top of that, I have to come to terms with the fact I have a crush on anyone.
I was so sure men would repulse me for life. I was so sure Graham had broken me and made it so I could never be in the same room as a man again. But here I am, not repulsed by Kane, and actively hoping Angelo might notice me in a bikini this summer.
Oy.
Like the sunlight is drawn to him, like it follows him the way my eyes do so often these days, the Charger turns onto our street and the world around me grows lighter.
Hopelessly, I smile like a goofball as the shiny muscle car slows to a crawl and parks behind Wanda.
Ang has aged well over the years – always the quiet friend, the designated driver, the protector of his friends, and the peacemaker and logical thinker. When he climbs out of his car and swings a backpack onto his shoulder, my eyes almost bulge out of my head at this new person in front of me.
Oh, my.
It’s Ang, but way, way different. Where he used to have long hair tied in a knot at the back of his head, he now wears one side shaved back until I can alm
ost see his skin, and the other side, long enough to tap his neatly stubbled jaw.
Momentary shock turns to a thumping heart, and that turns to a smile so big it pushes my cheeks into my eyes.
Well, alright.
That’s new.
“Hey.” Pull it together, Laine, or you’ll freak him out and push him over the edge. “What happened to your hair? You didn’t like how I did it?”
He walks forward with a sly grin that makes my belly jump. Pushing his hands into his jeans pockets, I watch as his biceps flex, stretching his shirt, and note they’re thick from decades of working in a garage rather than a gym.
I don’t think I’ve ever looked at his biceps before. I mean, maybe way back when I was eighteen and watching the guys skate, or a few weeks back, when he was putting new tires on the car. Even his broad chest was always just there, handsome, but nothing that stole special attention, except maybe that time I told him I was going back to Smythe’s farm to tip cows. Instead of telling me not to go, he rolled his shoulders back, bringing my attention to the way he always filled out his shirts, and nodded toward the passenger seat.
And it isn’t just his body I’m now noticing. In all those times we talked about our lives in that garage, never once has he mentioned anything super personal. It was always about me. And because all I see is a serious guy, I realize now I’ve been wearing glasses tinted with innocence for a long time.
I mean, Ang helped me tip cows without a word of protest. He helped me steal rose bushes from gardens without blinking an eye. He helped me let down the tire pressure in cars when people were jerks to me or my sister.
Ang isn’t innocent at all. He just knows how to hide it better than I do.
And knowing that makes me wonder what else he’s hiding.
Stopping beside me, he leans back against the car and says nothing until his shoulder touches me and his hip butts close to mine. Silent in that in-between part of the day, he turns his head only and smiles with his eyes. “Good morning.”
