Along for the Ride (30 page)

Eli raised his eyebrows. Then he looked in the repair room behind him, where, distantly, I could see Adam and Wallace, standing in the door that led out to the back alley, their backs to us. ‘Yeah,’ he said after a moment. ‘Why?’

I swallowed, the sound seeming incredibly loud in my own ears. ‘I was all annoyed, because I wasn’t good at it. And you said I shouldn’t have expected to be, because I’d never done it before, and what mattered was that I keep trying.’

‘Right,’ he said slowly. ‘I remember.’

I knew I was on the verge of losing my nerve. I could literally feel it slipping away, second by second, like a wave slowly pulling itself back out to sea. But I kept going anyway.

‘That’s what happened with us,’ I said. ‘With me. What we were doing… what we had… it was my first time. You know, where it mattered. And I wasn’t good at it. I sucked, actually.’

He narrowed his eyes. Oh, Jesus, I thought.
That
didn’t come out right.

‘At being with you,’ I added quickly. ‘I was bad at, you know, us. It was all new to me. I screwed it up because I didn’t know what I was doing, and that scared me so I didn’t even want to try. It’s like the bike. Which you were also right about, by the way.’

It was very, very quiet in the shop all around us, which made all of this sound that much more loud. In fact, I probably would have been completely humiliated, if I’d let my words catch up with me. All the more reason to keep going.

‘What I’m saying,’ I said, because God knew I needed some clarification, ‘is that I’m sorry. You can call it crazy, or call it chicken salad, or whatever. But I want to do what you said, keep trying. So I’m doing that by coming here and asking you to go to the prom with me tonight.’

‘Yo, Eli!’ I heard Wallace yell, suddenly, from behind him. ‘Train’s leaving. Time to go!’

Eli didn’t respond, though. He was still looking at me, his face serious. As I stared back at him I tried to remember all those hours we’d spent together, and how they’d begun and ended in pretty much this very same space. Because of this, it seemed more right than ever to be there now, when I’d know for sure whether we’d continue, or end for good. I knew, too, that these were the two possibilities. But for some reason, I figured he’d pick the other one.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. And the thing was, it seemed true as he picked up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. ‘But I can’t.’

I felt myself nod stupidly. And then, with one last look – intense, and almost sad – he was gone, turning his back and walking through the office, past Adam and Wallace, and out of sight. A second later, the door banged shut behind him. Done.

‘Auden!’ I turned my head, still stunned, to see Adam coming toward me. ‘Are you looking for Eli? Because he just –’

‘No,’ I said too quickly. ‘I’m not.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ He glanced at Wallace, who shrugged. ‘Well, is there something else you needed?’

I was really just looking for a way to save face, to get out of there gracefully. But then, I looked down again at the sign still in my hand –
ENJOY YOUR RIDE!
– and it seemed, suddenly, to be just that. A sign.

‘Actually,’ I said. ‘There is one thing.’

‘Call it chicken salad?’ Esther laughed, clapping her hands.

‘That is so retro! I haven’t heard that since grade school.’

‘I,’ Leah said, ‘never understood what that meant.’

‘So
that’s
how you ended up with the bike,’ Maggie said.

‘Bike?’ Leah said. ‘What does a bike have to do with any of this?’

‘I just bought one,’ I told her. ‘Apparently.’

‘Because she also just learned how to ride one,’ Maggie explained. ‘I’ve been teaching her every morning, on the sly. She never knew before.’

‘Really?’ Esther looked at me. ‘Wow. That’s impressive.’

‘That I didn’t know, or I learned?’ I asked.

Esther considered this. ‘Both,’ she said finally.

‘People! Let’s stay focused.’ Leah turned to me. ‘Okay, so Eli shot you down. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s just incredibly humiliating, and now I can never face him again.’

‘I wonder why he said no?’ Maggie mused.

‘Because he’s Eli,’ I told her.

Leah rolled her eyes. ‘That’s a statement, not an explanation.’

‘What I mean is,’ I said, ‘I know what he’s like. I had my chance with him, and I blew it. So he’s done.’

‘Wait.’ Esther held up her hand. ‘Back up. When were you and Eli an item?’

Once again, I had everyone’s attention as I said, ‘Um, we were hanging out a lot, a few weeks back.’

‘Doing what?’ Leah asked.

I thought of Eli and me, in the car, driving through the dark streets of Colby, alone and together, all those nights. Shopping, eating, talking, questing. We’d done so much it seemed impossible to narrow it down to any one word. So instead, I decided to go with the one thing we hadn’t done, at least until the very end. ‘We couldn’t sleep,’ I said. ‘So we were just up, together.’

‘Until you blew it,’ Esther said, clarifying.

I nodded.

‘What’d you do?’

I looked down at my cold coffee. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Something happened, and I got scared and pulled away.’

‘Okay, well,
that’s
not vague,’ Leah said.

‘Leah!’ Esther said.

‘What? “Something happened”? What does that mean?’ They all looked at me again, and under their gazes I realized that this, too, was a point where I usually pulled back. Folded into myself, hiding away. But considering what I’d already been through that day, it seemed only fitting to go for broke. ‘My dad and Heidi separating,’ I said. ‘It… it kicked up a lot of stuff for me. And I dealt with it the way I did when my parents split.’

‘Which was?’ Esther asked.

I shrugged. ‘Throwing myself into books and school, basically blocking everyone out. Especially anyone who might call me on it.’

‘Like Eli,’ Maggie said.

‘Especially Eli,’ I replied. ‘We’d had this one night where we really connected… and the next day, I just shut down on him. It was so stupid of me.’

‘Did you tell him that, though?’ Maggie asked. ‘Today?’

‘Yep,’ I said. ‘But like I said, it was too late. He’s done.’

There was a moment of quiet as this was processed and considered. I picked up the pack of cupcakes, then put them back down.

‘Well,’ Leah said finally, ‘I say, screw it.’

‘Leah.’ Esther sighed. ‘Honestly.’

‘No, really. So you’re humiliated. It happens. And who needs boys anyway? We’ll all just go to the prom together tonight and have a good time.’

‘I thought,’ Esther said to her, ‘that you were determined to have a date, or you weren’t going.’

‘That was before I’d exhausted all my options,’ Leah explained. ‘Now, I’m embracing my single status and just hanging with the girls. Like we all are. Right?’

‘Right,’ Esther said.

They both looked at me. I said, ‘You know, having been rejected twice, I’m thinking I might just stay home.’

‘What?’ Leah shook her head. ‘That’s a total quitter attitude.’

‘
Twice
,’ I said again, holding up two fingers. ‘In fifteen minutes, within a hundred feet of each other. What’s next? An anvil on my head?’

‘This,’ Esther said to me, ‘is exactly when you
need
to go out with the girls. It’s a textbook situation. You go with us, we dance together, you’ll feel better. Right, Mags?’

I hadn’t noticed until right then that Maggie had kind of shrunk back toward the door, one foot actually already out in the hall. When we all turned our attention to her, she flushed. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Actually…’

Silence. Then Leah said, ‘Actually what?’

‘I kind of have a date.’

‘What?’ Esther said. ‘What happened to sisterhood?’

‘You guys were totally blowing that off up until this very second!’ Maggie protested. ‘How was I supposed to know you’d actually come around?’

‘If you tell me you’re going with Jake Stock,’ Leah warned, ‘my head is going to explode.’

‘No.’ Maggie flushed again, then looked down at her hands. ‘Adam asked me.’

Leah and Esther looked at each other. Then at Maggie. Then at each other again. ‘Holy crap,’ Esther said, exhaling. ‘Finally!’

‘No shit,’ Leah said. ‘He finally got up the nerve!’

Maggie brightened, stepping back into the office. ‘So you’re not mad?’

‘Of course we are,’ Leah said.

‘But,’ Esther added, ‘we’re also happy that this sexual tension that’s been going on for years –’

‘
Years
,’ Leah agreed.

‘– will finally be resolved, one way or another,’ Esther finished.

‘Oh, it’s not like that,’ Maggie said, flipping her hand. ‘We’re just going as friends.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You’re not.’

She looked at me. ‘What?’

‘He likes you,’ I told her. ‘He told me. And I’m telling you because if you blow your chance, you’ll be really sorry. Trust me.’

‘Excuse me?’ I heard someone yell from the sales floor. ‘Is anyone working here?’

‘Whoops,’ Maggie said, turning around.

‘I’m on it,’ Esther told her, brushing past her to the hallway. Leah followed her, tossing her cup in the trash as she went. A moment later I heard them burst out, already chattering at the customer, as if to compensate for the silence.

Maggie leaned against the doorjamb, looking in at me as I sat back in the office chair. ‘I wish you’d reconsider about tonight,’ she said after a moment. ‘It’s still a memory worth having, even if it’s not exactly what you imagined.’

‘I know,’ I told her. ‘But honestly, I just don’t think I have it in me.’

‘Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be there. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

She nodded, then pushed off the door, heading back to work. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ she said. ‘Your bike? It’s awesome.’

‘You think?’

‘A Gossie with Whiplash cranks, a Tweedle fork, and those fat Russel tires? You can’t go wrong.’

I sighed. ‘Well. At least I’ll be leaving at the end of the summer with something.’

‘I think,’ she said, ‘that was already the case.’

And then she patted the doorjamb twice and was gone again. I looked back at my cupcakes, noting that somehow Esther had remembered that they were the one thing I’d bought, on impulse, all those weeks ago. I unwrapped them, pulled one out, and took a bite. It was too rich, the icing sticky. But weirdly enough, it did match the coffee perfectly.

      Chapter

      EIGHTEEN

‘Are you
sure
about this?’ Heidi asked, for about the millionth time as she stood in the open door. ‘Because I can probably still –’

‘Heidi.’ I shifted Isby to my other hip. ‘Go.’

‘But it just seems so wrong! If anyone should miss this, it’s me. It’s not like I haven’t been to –’

‘Go,’ I repeated.

‘Look, if I find someone there who can relieve you, I’ll just send them –’

I narrowed my eyes, shooting her the best cold bitch look I could muster. She recoiled slightly, and stepped out onto the porch.

‘Okay, fine,’ she said. ‘I’m going.’

I stood there, watching, as she started down the steps. After much debate, she’d selected a long, coral-colored dress with spaghetti straps. It had looked strange on the hanger – too plain, the color odd – but once on, she was a total knockout. All the more reason not to wear the Baby-Björn over it, which had been her original plan, as she’d never found a babysitter.

‘I’m fine,’ I’d assured her, hours ago, when I volunteered. ‘I don’t want to go to the prom, I told you that.’

‘But it’s your one chance!’ She sighed, looking at Isby, who was on the bedroom floor between us on her little play gym, kicking her feet at the ladybug hanging overhead. ‘I just hate how all this turned out for you.’

‘I’m really okay,’ I said. She studied me, doubtful. I said, ‘I am.’

Weirdly enough, this was kind of true. Even with my morning of double rejections. Even though I’d walked my new bike home, instead of riding it, as I just was not up for another bruise to my shins, elbows, or ego. Even after I’d taken that violet dress out of my room and laid it across Heidi’s bed, and slipped on my sweats and a tank top, dressing down just as everyone else began dressing up. In some ways, maybe this was what I’d done back in May, my first time around. But it was also totally different.

I realized now why Maggie was so sure I’d be leaving with more than a bike at the end of the summer. Because it was obvious, this true difference in me now: I had these experiences, these tales, more of this life. So maybe it wasn’t the fairy tale. But those stories weren’t real anyway. Mine were.

Once Heidi was gone, I carried Isby out to the deck, holding her up so she could see the water. There were still people out on the beach, soaking up the last of the daylight, while others were already out for their evening walks, proceeding past in couples, or groups, dogs and children running out ahead or lagging behind. We watched for a while, then headed back inside, where I heard someone knocking at the door.

As I passed the kitchen table, I saw Heidi’s phone, sitting right next to the saltshaker. She’d missed two calls – whoops – before realizing and doubling back for it. When I pulled the door open, holding the phone out with my other hand, I saw it wasn’t Heidi after all. It was my mother.

‘Hi, Auden,’ she said. ‘Can I come in?’

In response, Isby let out a squawk. My mom looked at the baby, then at me. ‘Sure,’ I said, then realized I needed to step back to make room for this to actually happen. ‘Of course.’

I retreated, she advanced, and then, somehow, I was shutting the door behind me and shoving Heidi’s phone into my back pocket before following her as she walked, slowly, through the foyer and toward the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what it was about her that was so jarring, especially since she looked just the same: dark hair piled on her head, black skirt and tank top, the onyx necklace that hung right at her collarbone, emphasizing its sharpness. But still, something was different.

‘So,’ I said slowly, shifting Isby back to my other hip. ‘What are you doing here?’

My mom turned and looked at me. Under the brighter lights of the kitchen, I saw she looked tired, even kind of sad. ‘I’ve been worried about you. Ever since our last conversation. I kept telling myself I was just being silly, but then…’

She trailed off, and I realized how rare this was, her using my dad’s old trick. My mom never liked to leave any of her meaning in another person’s hands. ‘But then,’ I repeated.

‘I came anyway,’ she finished. ‘Call it a mother’s prerogative. I wonder if your dad and Heidi can spare a cup of coffee?’

‘Of course,’ I said, walking over to the cupboard to pull out a mug. I was trying to reach up to get one and manage Isby, who had suddenly decided to go all squirmy on me, when I looked over at my mom, who was watching me with a curious expression. ‘Do you think you could –’

‘Oh,’ she said. Then she sat up straighter, as if about to be graded on something, and held out her hands. ‘Certainly.’

I handed Isby over, feeling my mom’s fingers brush mine as she left my hands for hers. Before I turned back to get the coffee, it struck me how strange it was to see my mother with a baby. She looked awkward sitting there, her arms bent at the elbow, studying Isby’s face with a clinical expression, as if she was a puzzle or riddle. In turn, Isby stared back at her, googly eyed, moving her little hands in circles, around and around again. Still, when I slid the coffee in front of her a few moments later, I stood at her side, prepared to take over. But she kept her eyes on the baby, so I sat down instead.

‘She’s very cute,’ she said finally. ‘Looks a little like you did at this age.’

‘Really?’

My mom nodded. ‘It’s the eyes. They’re just like your father’s.’

I looked at Isby, who seemed to be not at all worried about being held by a stranger, much less one who was clearly somewhat uncomfortable. As far as she knew, everyone she met had her best interest at heart.

‘I didn’t mean to worry you,’ I said to my mom now. ‘I’ve just… there’s just been a lot going on.’

‘I could tell.’ She eased Isby into a seated position, picking up her coffee with her other hand. ‘But I still got worried, when in that last call, you started asking about the divorce. You sounded so different.’

‘Different how?’ I asked.

She considered this for a minute. Then she said, ‘The word that comes to mind is
younger
, actually. Although for the life of me, I can’t explain why that is.’

It made sense to me, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I reached out, taking one of Isby’s fat fingers and squeezing it. She looked at me, then back at my mom.

‘The truth is, I thought I was losing you,’ she said, more to Isby than to me. ‘When you came down here, to your father and Heidi, and made all these friends. And then with the argument we had about the dorms… I suppose I’d just gotten comfortable thinking we were on the same page. And then, suddenly, we weren’t. It was very strange. Almost lonely.’

Almost, I thought. Out loud I said, ‘Just because we don’t see eye to eye on everything doesn’t mean we can’t be close.’

‘True,’ she agreed. ‘But I suppose it was just very jarring for me. To see you changing so quickly. It was like you had this whole world of traditions and language I didn’t understand, and there wasn’t a place in it for me.’

She was still looking at Isby as she said this – face to her face, her hands around the baby’s waist – as if these words were meant for her ears alone. ‘I know the feeling,’ I said.

‘Do you?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. I do.’

Now, she turned, looking at me. ‘I could not bear,’ she said slowly, making sure each word was clear, ‘to think that a choice I made in my life had somehow ruined yours. That would be unthinkable for me.’

I thought of us that night on the phone, the way her voice had softened suddenly, when I’d brought up the divorce. My mother had always had her cold, hard shell, this brittle armor she put up between her and everyone else. But maybe, all along, she’d seen it differently. That I was not outside, banging to get in, but in there with her, protected and safe, giving her all the more reason to stay that way.

‘You didn’t ruin my life,’ I told her. ‘I just wish we’d talked more.’

‘About the divorce?’

‘About everything.’

She nodded, and for a moment, we just sat there, both of us watching Isby, who was studying her feet. Then she said, ‘That’s never been my strong suit. The emotional talking thing.’

‘I know,’ I agreed. She looked at me. ‘It wasn’t mine either. But I kind of got a crash course this summer.’

‘Really,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’ I took in a breath. ‘It’s not that hard, actually.’

‘Well.’ She swallowed. ‘Maybe you can teach me sometime.’

I smiled at her. I’d just reached to put my hand over hers, feeling it warm beneath mine, when I felt Heidi’s phone buzz in my back pocket.

‘Shoot,’ I said, pulling it out. ‘I better get this.’

‘Go ahead,’ she replied, sitting back and resettling Isby on her lap. ‘We’re fine.’

I got to my feet, then hit
TALK
without checking the ID. ‘Hello?’

‘Heidi?’

The fact that my dad didn’t recognize my voice said something, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about what, exactly. I considered just hanging up, taking the coward’s way out. But instead I said, ‘No. It’s Auden.’

‘Oh.’ A pause. ‘Hi there.’

‘Hi,’ I said. I looked at my mom, who was watching me, then turned my back, starting into the foyer. It still seemed too close, though, so I headed upstairs. ‘Um, Heidi’s not here. She left her phone by accident when she went to the Beach Bash.’

It was very quiet on the line, so quiet that I had to wonder why there is interference or static only you really want to hear what the other person is saying. ‘Well,’ he said finally. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ I told him. ‘Busy.’

‘I figured. I’ve left you some messages.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m assuming you’re angry at me.’

‘No,’ I said, going into the bedroom, where my purple dress was still lying across the bed. I picked it up, carrying it to the closet. ‘I’ve just been working some things out.’

‘And I, as well.’ He coughed again. ‘Look, I know you’re there with Heidi, hearing her side of things –’

‘Heidi wants you to come home.’

‘That’s what I want, too,’ he said. ‘But it’s just not that simple.’

I pushed the dresses down the closet rod, the hangers clacking against each other, and stuffed the purple dress back in. Instead of shutting it, though, I kept moving through the line, looking at the other things there. I asked, ‘Then what is it?’

‘What?’

I pulled another black dress out, this one with a pleated skirt, then shoved it back. ‘You keep saying that, how it’s not simple. So tell me what it is, then.’

I could feel his surprise, tangible, which I guess shouldn’t have been that shocking itself. He was used to me chalking up whatever decisions he made to a peculiar kind of logic, all his own. It excused so much: it excused everything. He was a writer, he was moody, he was selfish. He needed his sleep, he needed his space, he needed his time. If he’d kept himself apart from the rest of the world, these things would have been just quirky annoyances, nothing more. But that was just the thing. He
did
involve other people. He reached out, drew them close. He made children with them, who then also could not separate themselves, whether they were babies or almost adults. You couldn’t just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. It wasn’t like a light switch, easy to shut on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out. To me, it didn’t seem complicated at all. In fact, it was the simplest thing in the world.

‘See,’ my dad said now, ‘this is what I meant when I said you were angry. You’ve heard Heidi talking, and you’ve only gotten one side of the story.’

‘That’s not why I’m upset with you,’ I told him, pushing more dresses aside. There was something so satisfying in the sound of the hangers clacking, all those colors blurring past. Pink, blue, red, orange, yellow. Each one like a shell, a skin, a different way to be, even if only for a day.

‘Then what is it?’ he asked.

Black, green, black, polka dot. ‘It’s just,’ I said, ‘you have the opportunity for a second chance here.’

‘A second chance,’ he repeated.

‘Yeah,’ I said. Short-sleeved, long-sleeved, narrow skirt, full. ‘But you won’t even take it. You’d rather just quit.’

He was quiet, the only sound the hangers sliding. I was almost to the end now, the choices narrowing to few, then fewer still. ‘Is that what you think?’ he said slowly. ‘That I’m quitting on you?’

‘Not on me,’ I said.

‘On who, then?’

And then, suddenly, there it was. A simple black dress with tiny beads hanging from the skirt, matching those along the neckline. A dancing dress, a flapper dress. The perfect dress, the one I’d been looking for all along. And as I stared at it, I found something else as well. The answer to his question, and the reason, I realized suddenly, why this summer had brought so much of this to the surface.

‘Isby,’ I told him.

When I said her name, I saw her face. Squawking, cooing, wailing, drooling. Sleeping, wakeful, fussy, content. The first day I’d seen her, asleep in Heidi’s arms, and how she’d been only seconds ago, her eyes following me as I left the room. All these little parts of her, just the very beginning of who she would and could be. It was early yet. She had everything ahead of her, and more than anything, I hoped that she wouldn’t need a lot of second chances. That maybe, unlike so many of us, she’d find a way to get it right the first time.