Along for the Ride (4 page)

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m going to get burgers. Dad says there’s a good place right down the street.’

‘Your father is here?’ she asked, shifting Thisbe in her arms and peering over my shoulder, down the hallway. ‘I thought he went down to campus.’

‘He’s working in his office,’ I said. She leaned closer, clearly not having heard this. ‘He’s writing,’ I repeated, more loudly. ‘So I’m going. What would you like?’

Heidi just stood there, the baby screaming between us, looking down the hallway at the light spilling out from my dad’s barely open office door. She started to speak, then stopped herself, taking a deep breath. ‘Whatever you’re having is fine,’ she said after a moment. ‘Thank you.’

I nodded, then stepped back as she pushed the door back shut between us. The last thing I saw was the baby’s red face, still howling.

Thankfully, outside the house it was much quieter. I could hear only the ocean and various neighborhood sounds – kids yelling, an occasional car radio, someone’s TV blaring out a back door – as I walked down the street to where the neighborhood ended and the business district began.

There was a narrow boardwalk, lined with various shops: a smoothie place, one of those beach-tat joints that sell cheap towels and shell clocks, a pizzeria. About halfway down, I passed a small boutique called Clementine’s, which had a bright orange awning. Taped to the front door was a piece of paper that read, in big block print,
IT’S A GIRL! THISBE CAROLINE WEST, BORN JUNE 1, 6 LBS, 15 OZ
. So this was Heidi’s store, I thought. There were racks of T-shirts and jeans, a makeup and body lotion section, and a dark-haired girl in a pink dress examining her fingernails behind the register, a cell phone clamped to her ear.

Up ahead, I could see what had to be the burger joint my dad mentioned –
LAST CHANCE CAFÉ, BEST O RINGS ON THE BEACH!
said the sign. Just before it, there was one last store, a bike shop. A bunch of guys around my age were gathered on a battered wooden bench outside, talking and watching people pass by.

‘The thing is,’ one of them, who was stocky and sporting shorts and a chain wallet, said, ‘the name has to have punch. Energy, you know?’

‘It’s more important that it be clever,’ another, who was taller and thinner with curly hair, a little dorky-looking, said. ‘Which is why you should go with my choice, the Crankshaft. It’s perfect.’

‘It sounds like a car shop, not a bike place,’ the short guy told him.

‘Bikes have cranks,’ his friend pointed out.

‘And cars have shafts.’

‘So do mines,’ the skinny guy said.

‘You want to call it the Mine Shaft now?’

‘No,’ his friend said as the other two laughed. ‘I’m just making the point that the context doesn’t have to be exclusive.’

‘Who cares about context?’ The short guy sighed. ‘What we need is a name that jumps out and sells product. Like, say, Zoom Bikes. Or Overdrive Bikes.’

‘How do you go into overdrive on a bike?’ another guy, who had his back to me, asked. ‘That’s stupid.’

‘It is not,’ the guy with the wallet muttered. ‘Besides, I don’t see you offering up any suggestions.’

I stepped away from Clementine’s and starting walking again. Just as I did, the third guy suddenly turned, and our eyes met. He had dark hair, cut short, incredibly tanned skin, and a broad, confident smile, which he now flashed at me. ‘How about,’ he said slowly, his gaze still locked with mine, ‘I just saw the hottest girl in Colby walking by?’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ the dorky one said, shaking his head, as the other one laughed out loud. ‘You’re pathetic.’

I felt my face flush hot, even as I ignored him and kept walking. I could feel him looking at me, still smiling, as I put more and more distance between us. ‘Just stating the obvious,’ he called out, as I was about out of earshot. ‘You could say thank you, you know.’

But I didn’t. I didn’t say anything, if only because I had no idea how to respond to such an overture. If my experience with friends was sparse, what I knew about boys – other than as competitors for grades or class rank – was nonexistent.

Not that I hadn’t had crushes. Back at Jackson, there was a guy in my science class, hopeless at equations, who always made my palms sweat whenever we got paired for experiments. And at Perkins Day, I’d awkwardly flirted with Nate Cross, who sat next to me in calculus, but everyone was in love with Nate, so that hardly made me special. It wasn’t until Kiffney-Brown, when I met Jason Talbot, that I really thought I might actually have one of those boyfriend kind of stories to tell the next time I got together with my old friends. Jason was smart, good-looking, and seriously on the rebound after his girlfriend at Jackson dumped him for, in his words, ‘a juvenile delinquent welder with a tattoo’. Because of Kiffney-Brown’s small seminar size, we spent a fair amount of time together, battling it out for valedictorian, and when he’d asked me to prom I’d been more excited than I ever would have admitted. Until he backed out, citing the ‘great opportunity’ of the ecology conference. ‘I knew you’d be okay with this,’ he’d said to me as I nodded, dumbly, hearing this news. ‘You understand what’s really important.’

Okay, so it wasn’t like he called me beautiful. But it was a compliment, in its own way.

It was crowded at Last Chance Café, with a line of people waiting to be seated and two cooks visible through a small kitchen window, racing around as orders piled up on the spindle in front of them. I gave my order to a pretty, dark-haired girl with a lip ring, then took a seat by the window to wait for it. Glancing down the boardwalk, I could see the guys still gathered around the bench: the one who’d talked to me was now sitting down, his arms stretched behind his head, laughing, as his short, stocky friend rode a bike back and forth in front of him, doing little hops here and there.

It took a while for the food to be ready, but I soon realized my dad was right. It was worth the wait. I was digging into the onion rings before I even got out the door to the boardwalk, which by then was crowded with families eating ice-cream cones, couples on dates, and tons of little kids running along the sand. In the distance, there was a gorgeous sunset, all oranges and pinks, and I kept my eyes on it as I walked, not even looking over at the bike shop until I was almost past it. The guy was still there, although now he was talking to a tall girl with red hair, who was wearing a massive pair of sunglasses.

‘Hey,’ he called out to me, ‘if you’re looking for something to do tonight, there’s a bonfire at the Tip. I’ll save you a seat.’

I glanced over at him. The redhead was now giving me the stink eye, an annoyed look on her face, so I didn’t say anything.

‘Ah, she’s a heartbreaker!’ he said, then laughed. I kept walking, now feeling the redhead’s gaze boring in somewhere between my shoulder blades. ‘Just keep it in mind. I’ll wait for you.’

Back at the house, I found three plates and some silverware, then set the table and put out the food. I was shaking ketchup packets out into a pile when my dad came downstairs.

‘I thought I smelled onion rings,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘This looks great.’

‘Is Heidi coming down?’ I asked, sliding his burger onto a plate.

‘Not sure,’ he replied, helping himself to an onion ring. Mouth full, he added, ‘The baby’s having a hard night. She probably wants to get her to sleep first.’

I glanced up the stairs, wondering if it was possible that Thisbe was still crying, as I’d been gone at least an hour. ‘Maybe I’ll, um, just ask her if she wants me to bring it up to her.’

‘Sure, great,’ he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. I stood there for a second, watching as he ate another ring, tugging a nearby newspaper over with his free hand. I’d wanted to have dinner with my dad, sure, but I felt kind of bad about it happening this way.

Thisbe
was
still crying: I could hear her as soon as I got to the top of the stairs, Heidi’s dinner on a plate in one hand. When I got to the pink room, the door was ajar, and inside I could see her sitting in a rocking chair, her eyes closed, moving back and forth, back and forth. I was understandably hesitant to bother her, but she must have smelled the food, because a beat later, she opened her eyes.

‘I thought you might be hungry,’ I called out. ‘Do you – should I bring this to you?’

She blinked at me, then looked down at Thisbe, who was still howling. ‘You can just put it down,’ she said, nodding at a nearby white bureau. ‘I’ll get to it in a second.’

I walked over, moving aside a stuffed giraffe and a book called
Your Baby: The Basics
, which was opened to a page with the heading ‘Fussiness: What Causes It, and What You Can Do’. Either she hadn’t had time to read it, or that book didn’t know jack, I thought as I slid the plate over.

‘Thanks,’ Heidi said. She was still rocking, the motion almost hypnotic, although clearly not to Thisbe, who continued to cry at full volume. ‘I just… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. She’s fed, she’s changed, I’m holding her, and it’s like… she hates me, or something.’

‘She’s probably just colicky,’ I said.

‘But what does that mean, exactly?’ She swallowed hard, then looked back down at her daughter’s face. ‘It just doesn’t make sense, and I’m doing all I can…’

She trailed off, her voice getting tight, and I thought of my dad downstairs, eating his onion rings and reading the paper. Why wasn’t
he
up here? I didn’t know jack about babies either. Just as I thought this, though, Heidi looked up at me again.

‘Oh, God, Auden, I’m so sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure this is the last thing you want to hear about. You’re young, you should be out having fun!’ She sniffled, reaching up to rub her eyes with one hand. ‘You know, there’s a place called the Tip, just down the road from here. All the girls at my shop hang out there at night. You should go check it out. It has to be better than this, right?’

Agreed, I thought, but it seemed rude to actually say that. ‘Maybe I will,’ I said.

She nodded, like we’d made a deal, then looked back at Thisbe. ‘Thanks for the food,’ she said. ‘I really… I appreciate it.’

‘No problem,’ I told her. But she was still looking at the baby, her face weary, so I took this as a dismissal and left, shutting the door behind me.

Downstairs, my dad was finishing his dinner, perusing the sports section. When I slid into a chair opposite him, he looked up at me and smiled. ‘So how’s she doing? Baby asleep?’

‘Not really,’ I told him, unwrapping my burger. ‘She’s still screaming.’

‘Yikes.’ He pushed his chair back, standing up. ‘I better go check in.’

Finally, I thought as he disappeared up the stairs. I picked up my burger, taking a bite: it was cold, but still good. I’d only eaten about half of it when he reappeared, walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer. I sat there, chewing, as he popped the top, took a sip, and looked out at the water.

‘Everything okay up there?’

‘Oh, sure,’ he said easily, moving the bottle to his other hand. ‘She’s just colicky, like Hollis was. Not much you can do except wait it out.’

The thing was, I loved my dad. He might have been a little moody, and definitely more than a little selfish, but he’d always been good to me, and I admired him. Right at that moment, though, I could see why someone might not
like
him that much. ‘Does Heidi… is her mom coming to help out, or anything?’

‘Her mom died a couple of years ago,’ he said, taking another sip of his beer. ‘She has a brother, but he’s older, lives in Cincinnati with kids of his own.’

‘What about a nanny or something?’

Now he looked at me. ‘She doesn’t want help,’ he said. ‘It’s like I told you, she wants to do this on her own.’

I had a flash of Heidi craning her neck, looking down at my dad’s office, the grateful look on her face when I brought her dinner. ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘you should, you know, insist, though. She seems pretty tired.’

He just looked at me for a moment, a flat expression on his face. ‘Auden,’ he said finally, ‘this isn’t something you need to worry about, all right? Heidi and I will work it out.’

In other words, back off. And he was right. This was his house, I was a guest here. It was presumptuous to show up and just assume I knew better, based on only a few hours. ‘Right,’ I said, balling up my napkin. ‘Of course.’

‘All right,’ he said, his voice relaxed again. ‘So… I’m going to head upstairs, get back to it. I’d like to finish this chapter tonight. You’ll be okay on your own?’

It wasn’t even really a question, only phrased to sound like one. Funny how intonation could do so much, change even what something was at its core. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Go ahead. I’ll be fine.’

      Chapter

      THREE

I wasn’t fine, though. I was bored, and Thisbe was still hollering. I unpacked my clothes, tried to crack my future Econ 101 textbook, and cleaned out all the messages on my phone. All of which took about forty minutes. At that point, with the baby still crying – still crying! – I finally grabbed a jacket, pulled my hair back, and went out for a walk.

At first, I wasn’t planning to go to the Tip, whatever or wherever it was. I just wanted some air, a break from the noise, and a chance to process whatever it was that had happened between my dad and me earlier that evening. But after I walked in the opposite direction from the boardwalk for about a block, the sidewalk ended in a culde-sac, a bunch of parked cars crowded along the edges. A path was visible off to one side, and I could see light in the distance. Probably a mistake, I thought, but then I thought of Hollis in that picture frame, and followed it anyway.

It wound through some beach grass and over a couple of dunes, then opened up to a wide swath of sand. From the look of it, it had once been all beach, until erosion or a storm or both created a peninsula of sorts, where now a bunch of people were gathered, some sitting on driftwood that was piled up in makeshift benches, others standing around a firepit where a good-size blaze was going. A large truck was parked off to one side, a keg in the bed, and I recognized the tall, skinny guy from the bike shop sitting beside it. When he saw me, he looked surprised, then glanced over at the fire. Sure enough, the guy who’d called out to me was there, in a red windbreaker, holding a plastic cup. He was talking to two girls – the redhead from earlier and a shorter girl with black hair, braided into pigtails – gesturing widely with his free hand.

‘On your right!’ I heard someone yell from behind me, and then there was a whizzing sound. I turned, only to see the short, stocky guy I’d seen earlier coming at me fast on a bike, pedaling wildly. I jumped out of the way just as he blasted by, rounding the dune and shooting onto the flatter sand of the beach. I was still trying to catch my breath when I heard the clatter of pedals, and two more bikes emerged from the dark of the path, the riders – a blond guy, and a girl with short, cropped hair – laughing and talking with each other as they zoomed past. Jesus, I thought, stepping back again, only to feel myself collide squarely with something. Or someone.

When I turned, I found myself facing a tall guy with longish dark hair pulled back at his neck, wearing a worn blue hoodie and jeans. He glanced at me quickly – his eyes were green, and deep set – barely seeming to register my face.

‘Sorry,’ I said, although it wasn’t my fault: he was the one creeping up behind. But he just nodded, as if I’d owed him this, and continued to the beach, sliding his hands in his pockets.

I hardly needed another sign that it was time to turn back. As I went to do just that, though, I heard a voice from behind me. ‘See? I
knew
you couldn’t resist me!’

I turned, and there was the guy from the boardwalk, still holding his cup. The redhead and the girl with pigtails were now standing by the keg, watching disapprovingly as he walked toward me. I was suddenly nervous, not sure how to respond, but then I had a flash of my mom at our kitchen table, surrounded by all those graduate students. Maybe I didn’t know what I would say. But I knew my mother, and her techniques, by heart.

‘I can resist you,’ I told him.

‘Well, of course you would think that. I haven’t begun my offensive yet,’ he said.

‘Your offensive?’ I asked.

He grinned. His smile – bright, wide, verging on goofy – was his best trait, and he knew it. ‘I’m Jake. Let me get you a beer.’

Huh, I thought. This wasn’t so hard after all.

‘I’ll get it myself,’ I told him. ‘Just point the way.’

What’s your problem?

I didn’t know how to answer this. Not when Jake first asked it, as I pulled away from him, gathering my shirt around me, and stumbled over the dunes back to the path. And not as I walked back up my dad’s street, trying to shake the sand out of my hair. My lips felt full and rubbed raw, the closure of my bra, hurriedly snapped, digging into the skin of my back as I let myself in the side door, shutting it behind me.

I crept upstairs, down the dark hallway, glad to hear nothing but my own footsteps. Finally, Thisbe was asleep. After a long, hot shower, I put on some yoga pants and a tank top, then settled into my room, opening my Econ textbook again. But even as I tried to focus on the words, the events of the night came rushing back to me: my dad’s sharp tone, Jake’s easy smile, our fumbled, hurried connection behind the dunes, and how it suddenly all felt so weird and wrong, not like me at all. Maybe my mom could play the aloof, selfish bitch. But that was what I’d been doing: playing. Until the game was up. I was a smart girl. Why had I done something so stupid?

I felt tears fill my eyes, the words blurring on the page, and pressed my palm to my face, trying to stop them. No luck. Instead, they were contagious: a moment later, I heard Thisbe start up again, followed by the sound of someone – Heidi, I knew – coming down the hall and a door opening, then closing.

She kept on for an hour, long after my own tears had stopped and dried. Maybe it was the guilt I felt about what I’d done that night. Or that I just needed a distraction from my own problems. Whatever the reason, I found myself stepping out into the hallway, then walking to the door to Thisbe’s room. This time, I didn’t knock. I just pushed the door open, and Heidi, her face ragged, streaked with its own tears, looked up at me from the rocking chair. ‘Give her to me,’ I said, holding out my arms. ‘You get some rest.’

I was pretty sure
Your Baby: The Basics
didn’t say anything about sunrise walks on the boardwalk as a cure for colic. But you never knew.

At first, I wasn’t sure Heidi was going to let me take her. Even after the hours of crying, and her clear and present exhaustion, she still hesitated. It wasn’t until I took one more step toward her and added, ‘Come on,’ that she let out a big breath, and the next thing I knew my sister was in my arms.

She was so, so small. And writhing, which made her seem all the more fragile, although with all the screaming she had to have some strength to her somewhere. Her skin was warm against mine, and I could feel the dampness at the base of her neck, the hair wet there. Poor baby, I thought, surprising myself.

‘I don’t know what she needs,’ Heidi said, flopping back into the rocking chair, which then banged against the wall. ‘I just… I can’t… I can’t listen to her cry anymore.’

‘Go to sleep,’ I told her.

‘I don’t know,’ she mumbled. ‘Maybe I should –’

‘
Go
,’ I said, and while I didn’t mean for my voice to sound so sharp, it worked. She pushed herself out of the chair, sniffling past me and down the hallway to her room.

Which left me alone with Thisbe, who was still screaming. For a little while, I just tried to walk her: in her room, then downstairs, through the kitchen, around the island, back to the living room again, which quieted her a bit, but not much. Then I noticed the stroller, parked by the door. It was about five when I strapped her in, still hollering, and began to push her down the driveway. By the time we got to the mailbox, twenty feet farther, she’d stopped.

No way, I thought, pausing myself and looking down at her. A beat passed, and then I watched her draw in a breath and start up again, louder than before. I quickly began pushing her once more, and after a few turns of the wheels… silence again. I picked up the pace and turned out onto the street.

By the time we got to the business district she was asleep under her blanket, eyes closed, face relaxed. Ahead of us, the boardwalk was deserted, a brisk breeze blowing across it. All I could hear was the ocean and the stroller wheels clacking beneath my feet.

We’d walked all the way to the Last Chance Café before we finally saw another person, and even then they were far off in the distance, just a speck and some movement. It wasn’t until we came back up on the orange awning of Clementine’s that I realized it was someone on a bike. They were in a spot where the boardwalk opened up to the beach, and I watched, squinting, as they went up on their front wheel, hopping for a few feet, then easing back down, spinning the handlebars. Then they were pedaling backward, zigzagging, before suddenly speeding forward, banking off a nearby bench, then down again. The movements were fluid, almost hypnotic: I thought of Heidi in the rocking chair, and Thisbe asleep in the stroller, the subtle, calming power of motion. I was so distracted, watching the person on the bike, that it wasn’t until I got right up to him that I recognized the blue hoodie, that dark hair pulled back at the neck. It was the same guy I’d bumped into on the path hours earlier.

This time, though, I was taking him by surprise, which was made obvious by the way he jerked, skidding to a clumsy stop when he suddenly spotted us standing not ten feet from him. Just by his glance, I knew he recognized me, too, although he wasn’t exactly friendly – no hello. But then, I hadn’t said anything either. In fact, we both just stood there, looking at each other. It probably would have been incredibly awkward, if Thisbe hadn’t started crying again.

‘Oh,’ I said, quickly pushing the stroller forward, then back again. She quieted immediately but kept her eyes open, looking at the sky overhead. The guy was watching her, and for some reason, I felt compelled to add, ‘She’s… it’s been a long night.’

He looked at me again, and his face was so serious. Almost haunted, although why that word came to mind, I had no idea. He turned his gaze back to Thisbe, then said, ‘Aren’t they all.’

I opened my mouth to say something – to agree, at least – but he didn’t give me the chance, was already pedaling backward. No good-bye, no nothing, just a spin of the handlebars, and then he was rising up on the pedals and riding away from us. Instead of a straight line, he moved down the boardwalk from side to side, zigzagging slowly, all the way to the end.