Just Me

by L. A. Fiore

“I'll find something. The Rosses don't control the entire town.”

  “You can say that again.” Dr. Wright's response to that brought a smile to my face.

  Poppy changed the subject, but the Wrights didn't as easily shift their focus, and though I didn't know what they were up to, I knew that this subject was far from over for them.

  ***

  Bastian did go to Mr. Wright, who did some investigating, even pulled my uncle into it, and it turned out everything the Rosses were doing was just on the right side of the law. Technically, there was nothing to be done to stop them short of Bastian and I calling it quits or having someone with even more money and connections stepping in to call their bluff. That was unlikely though, considering they were the richest family around.

  How long did they plan on playing the puppet master—a year? Two? If Bastian didn't fall in line with their wishes, would they continue to manipulate him out of spite? What really sickened me was that they had finally found Bastian's Achilles heel—playing on his loyalty to his friends to force him to do what they wanted.

  ***

  It had been three days since I moved in with the Wrights and I hadn't heard from Bastian once. At first I thought he was giving me some time to get settled but his continued silence had me fearing there was more to it. I had gotten so accustomed to feeling him next to me, I was having trouble sleeping at night. I missed him, I ached for him, so I reached for my phone and texted him

  I want to see you. Are you working tomorrow night?

  I hurriedly got ready for bed and climbed under the covers waiting in anticipation for Bastian's call. I sat there for a good hour before I gave up waiting and dialed his number. His phone went right into voice mail. I hung up without bothering to leave a message. I couldn't help but think that Bastian was avoiding me.

  The following day was Monday, but Bastian didn't pick me up for school. I caught a ride with Poppy and waited at my locker until the bell sounded, but no Bastian. I felt his absence acutely as I swapped out my books and headed to homeroom.

  After morning announcements, I hurried to English determined to make Bastian talk with me, but when I entered the class, he wasn't there. Part of me was happy he was absent, because it explained why he hadn't picked me up earlier, but there was another part of me which acknowledged what most of me wasn't quite ready to accept: Bastian really was avoiding me.

  He was absent for two days. On the third day, I found him at my locker. I was so happy to see him, I practically launched myself at him.

  “Where have you been?” I demanded.

  He didn't answer, but he held me so tightly against him. I just sank into his embrace because I had missed him. Sooner than I wanted, he stepped back from me and when he smiled, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

  “Talk to me, Bastian.”

  He ran his finger down my cheek, but I saw the anger in his expression. “They've recruited Kira.”

  “Your parents?” My incredulousness was chased away by my own fury. “What, is she supposed to keep tabs on you?”

  “Yes, and report back. They'll make good on their threat of calling in Cal's loan if I don't fall in line. That garage is his life.”

  I stood there looking at the person I wanted most in this world, someone who was so close to me I could literally reach out and touch him, but thanks to his parents' meddling, he might as well live clear across the planet. I never knew heartbreak could actually make a person physically ill. A gut-deep sadness filled me.

  “I'll stay away.”

  He cradled my face in his hands, the gesture stunningly tender and though his words were softly spoken, there was no denying his intensity. “I don't want this. I want you but until I find a way to get them to back off, I have to toe the line. I owe that to Cal. I'm sorry, Lark.”

  “Me too.”

  ***

  Despite my heartache over the situation with Bastian, life with the Wrights was idyllic. I had feared being in Poppy's company 24/7 might turn us into bickering siblings, but it wasn't that way at all. As it was with Bastian, tiresome chores like homework were actually enjoyable if someone shared the monotony. And when I got stuck with an assignment, I only needed to ask the Wrights for help and they were more than happy to sit with me for as long as I needed. The day-to-day family dynamic was not one I was used to, and I found that I craved it. In many ways, that time with the Wrights was the happiest I had ever been and I understood now why Mr. Wright had been so insistent, but even that was tempered by the absence of Bastian. I missed him every damn day.

  He had stopped sitting with me in English and he could usually be found at the popular table at lunch. He no longer waited for me at my locker and seventh period found me all alone in the art room. In the week that followed, he grew increasingly more distant, until the time came when he avoided me altogether. I'd see him in lunch, sitting with Kira, and in English, I'd sit in my seat and just stare at his back. Even though my heart was now a dead organ, the phantom of it ached as I watched him.

  Almost two weeks after I moved out of the apartment, Bastian texted me asking to meet at our spot near the river. Mr. Wright let me borrow his car and when I arrived, Bastian was already there waiting. As soon as he saw me, he drew me into his arms.

  “I'm sorry.” He whispered.

  “They didn't give you a choice.”

  “I've missed you so damn much.” He said.

  I touched his face and was thankful that I had the chance to do so. I knew what was coming. There’d been talk at school about Bastian taking his finals early. He said, “I've been going over my options with Dom.”

  It was just shy of a month since my birthday surprise. We had been so perfectly happy then and now only a few short weeks later, it was all falling apart.

  “I won't live under their thumb—being so close to you and being unable to be near you. I can't do that anymore.”

  “And your parents' threats?”

  His hold on me tightened, “They want me away from you, so I'm guessing me leaving will appease them for now.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “My brother helped me work it out with my teachers to let me graduate early. I was surprised at how accommodating they were: arranging for me to take last year's exams. I'll lose my AP credit but that's a small price to pay.” He hesitated a moment, his next words seemed hard for him to say. “I'm going to Massachusetts to start my apprenticeship. But I still want to go to Columbia and I still want to get a place together.”

  Bad timing, but the thought popped into my head just the same. He passed his exams when we were only halfway through the school year. Incredible.

  Focusing back on his last comment I asked, “How would we do that?”

  “It turns out my parents weren't always so careful to stay within the law when working some of their deals. Dom didn't go into detail, but he's working on a few things, enough maybe to give us leverage to get them to back down. What they want more than to manipulate me is to continue to live their extravagant lifestyle.”

  “I hate this.”

  “I'm so sorry you were dragged through all of this, but I will be coming back for you.”

  “I'll be waiting.”

  “I'll call you once I get settled.”

  We hadn't spent any time together in the past few weeks, but I got to at least see him every day. Now he was leaving. I was thinking on this when he said. “I'd understand if you didn't want to wait…if you didn't want to deal with all of this shit.”

  “That's a fucking stupid thing to say.”

  He grinned. “Agreed. Let me know when you get settled in Maine. I'll visit, repeatedly.”

  Pressing my forehead into his chest, I nodded my reply since speaking was impossible.

  We spent the next few hours just being together before he followed me home. He walked me to the door and kissed me: a kiss so bittersweet my eyes stung from the tears I valiantly held back. I watched as he climbed back onto his bike and rode off into the sunset. I stood there long
after his taillights had faded in the distance, unable and unwilling to move.

  Chapter Eleven

  The weeks that followed Bastian's departure were difficult, but not nearly as hard to handle as I feared. As promised, he wrote to me with his address, but then there was nothing. I suspected that he was focusing on learning the ropes and getting acclimated to his temporary home.

  Every day I missed him, but knowing he was off doing what he wanted made it easier to handle. Still his absence hurt and that pain had me churning out painting after painting which were, according to Ms. Whitney, some of my best work. Everywhere I looked reminded me of him. In school I was there, but I wasn't really there. No reminder felt more poignant than the sight of Bastian's empty chair in English.

  The Rosses had fallen disturbingly quiet, but Cal's garage was still his, so at least there was that. His garage became a regular hangout for me, because I felt closer to Bastian there, so it wasn't really a surprise that Caden and I grew close.

  On one of these visits, Caden and I sat in the breakroom sharing a pizza. It was true, he was a bottomless pit—eating two slices to every one of mine, because he could fold a slice and stuff half of it in his mouth in one bite. He swallowed and asked, “Have you heard from Bastian?”

  “Only that he arrived safely.”

  “Yeah, I haven't heard from him either. I was taking it personally, but if he hasn't called you, he's clearly busy.”

  Whether his observation was true or not didn't matter. I liked hearing it. “Can I ask you something, Caden?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why aren't you in school?”

  “Got my GED. I'm not much of a student. I'm better with my hands, and besides I need the money for rent.”

  “You don't live with your parents?”

  In response, his easy smile faded. He wouldn't look at me as he answered, his eyes staying fixed on his pizza. “They died.”

  My heart twisted in my chest. There was something about Caden, under the affable exterior, which called to me. He seemed a lost soul—I’d suspected there was something dark in his past, because every once and a while a devastating sadness would come over him, but I hadn't expected that.

  “I'm sorry Caden, I didn't know.”

  “It's cool. It was a long time ago.” Despite his words, I knew he wasn't being honest with me or himself. I touched his arm and he lifted his gaze to mine.

  “If you ever want to talk about it...”

  He nodded in reply, then changed the subject.

  ***

  Almost two weeks after he left, I got an email from Bastian. When I saw his name in my inbox, my heart almost pounded right out of my chest.

  Hello beautiful.

  Sorry it took so long to write, but restoration is hard work. After a twelve-hour day, it takes all that I have to get home to go face-down for a solid eight. I miss you every day. Your painting is hanging in my bedroom, so I see it every morning when I wake. I'm thinking about you every day, missing you even more.

  Yours,

  Bastian

  Happiness filled me reading his words even as longing nearly brought me to tears. My fingers were shaking as I typed my reply.

  Bastian,

  It makes me happy to hear that you are enjoying the work. At least something good came from this mess. Your parents are assholes, but we won't let them win. We'll figure something out because I miss you too.

  Yours, heart and soul

  Lark

  Almost as soon as I hit send, my cell phone rang. It was Bastian. Before I could even say hello, he said, “I fucking miss you.”

  “Shouldn't you be sleeping?” I teased.

  “I'd much rather be talking to you. Am I keeping you from anything?”

  I settled on my bed and got comfortable. “Nothing more important than you.”

  “I like that answer. So, how's school?”

  “Not the same without you. I hate English, lunch and seventh period. I dread going to my locker because I know you won't be standing there and every time I drive by the apartment, I break down into tears. My art, though, is off the charts. I think I'm going through my dark stage.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Stop! It isn't you. It's your damn parents. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from them?”

  “Only enough for them to tell me that this job is less embarrassing and a step in the right direction, because it's gotten me away from you. In their minds it is only summer work: tiding me over until I agree to work for my dad.”

  “Assholes.”

  “I couldn't have said it better. So I heard through the grapevine that you and Caden have been hanging.”

  “He's a great guy. Getting him to laugh and smile, shaking him out of that constant haunted mood even for a little while, it's a good feeling. Why, you aren't jealous, are you?” I was joking about the jealousy, but when my question met silence, I feared maybe he really was jealous.

  He said, “For someone who claims to have spent your life in solitary, you are remarkably insightful when it comes to reading people.”

  Before I could ask what he meant by that comment, he changed the subject. “So, what are you wearing?”

  I laughed out loud at the question before lying through my teeth. His sounds of distress were very satisfying.

  ***

  I’d been working on some leaf rubbings in the art room, thinking about my phone conversation with Bastian from the night before, when the door opened and in walked Brad. He had started hanging out with Poppy, Sophia and me after Bastian left: joining us for lunch and a few times sitting with us at the local cafe for a coffee after school. I suspected he had an interest in Poppy and since she and Shawn were noticeably spending less time together—a situation I'd been pestering Poppy about—Brad was making his move. Outside of art class, he never voluntarily came into this room. I was surprised by his unexpected visit. So much in fact that I stared at him in much the same way a scientist would study mold in a petri dish.

  “Hey Lark.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “Do you and the others want to get a coffee after school?”

  “Sorry, not today. I'm meeting Poppy and Sophia for some serious girl time.”

  He feigned a shudder. “Don't want to get anywhere near that.” It was only then that he seemed to notice what I was doing. “What's that?”

  “Just some rubbings.”

  “You like it? Art, I mean.”

  “Probably as much as you like football.”

  “I knew you were an artist, I guess I just didn't realize you were so serious about it. It's cool what you're doing there but can you make a real living out of it?” He shook his head as a self-deprecating grin tugged at his mouth. “Sorry, I'm channeling my father. Never mind. I'll see you around.”

  I barely got good-bye out of my mouth before the door closed at his back. Only a minute or two later, the door opened again and expecting to see Brad, I was surprised to see Mica. I swear it looked like relief on her face when she saw me, but why I had no idea. Her mouth opened as if to say something and just as quickly she shut it again.

  “Mica?”

  Without acknowledging me, she hurried away. What the hell.

  ***

  The after-school hours found Poppy, Sophia and me sitting outside at the local coffee bar. I reached for my coffee as I studied Poppy from across the table. She looked tired. A glance at Sophia and I knew she shared my concerns. Tension had grown between her and Shawn, becoming obvious whenever we all got together. But even though Poppy was an open book, when she wanted privacy, no form of persuasion could get her to share and I knew this because I'd been picking away at her for days with no luck. I wasn't going to ask again, but my mouth opened before my brain could stop it.

  “What's going on with you and Shawn?”

  Her head snapped in my direction. “Fine, I'll tell you since clearly you're a dog with a bone.” She exhaled loudly and started fiddling with her cup. “We're growi
ng apart.”

  I nearly spit out my coffee. I wasn’t expecting to hear her say that. Sophia voiced my thoughts. “You aren't kidding?”

  “No.”

  “Damn. Poppy, you and Shawn, you're like eggs and bacon,” I said.

  “I know.”

  Concern rang clear in Sophia's voice when she asked, “What happened?”

  “I love Shawn, but I'm not so sure I'm in love with him anymore.”

  “Does he feel the same way?”

  “No and yes.” Poppy leaned up and put her elbows on the table. “The truth is, I watch Lark and Bastian and the way they act together and it reminds me of when Shawn and I had that. We've been together for years, so it'll be different from the newness of their relationship, but I just don't feel that connection any longer.”

  “Have you talked with him about it?” I asked.

  “A little. It's hard because we've been friends for so long. I don't want to lose the friendship, but I don't see how we can keep it when we end the romance.”

  “You are such good friends and have been even before you started dating. But it won’t be easy. Telling a guy you want to be friends is like the kiss of death, but in your case it would be stupid to allow the friendship to die just because the romance has. Shawn isn't stupid. You guys do love each other, even if you’re not ‘in’ love.”

  Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “I think you'll both find your way to the other side of this. Sophia and I are here whenever you want to talk.”

  “She's right.” Sophia added.

  “Thank you, guys,” she whispered with tears in her eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  The fall leaves slowly gave way to the bitter cold of winter and before I knew it, it was almost Christmas. Bastian had been gone for almost three weeks, three long and lonely weeks.

  Christmas had been the one day of the year that my mom had pulled it together and stayed sober, and I adored it. Every year that I was with her, I woke on Christmas day to a small tabletop tree with a single present underneath it. The gift was usually something from the dollar store, but I cherished what it represented. For that day, we were a real family. Dinner usually consisted of frozen meals that we microwaved, but I would have happily eaten dirt just to have her smile and talk to me like she had done every Christmas. Knowing in the morning she would revert back to her normal ways, getting drunker as the day wore on, didn't cause resentment in me. I was thankful for what she had been able to give me. After I met the Wrights and saw how they celebrated the holidays with their decorating, cookie-making and the annual viewings of the Christmas classics, it only had me appreciating all that much more the time I had had with my mom. We hadn't celebrated as elaborately as the Wrights, but the same vein of love wove through our simple celebrations. Even after my mom died, the holiday still remained special because of those happy memories.