Away (3 page)

“Do you remember the night we met?” Rosemary asks and I set her down on a log, sitting next to her.

I make a sarcastic noise. “There’s no way I can forget. Michael had to practically drag me along to that party. He promised nothing was going to happen, and then he embarrasses me by puking in the bonfire.”

“And Michelle made me go to it too,” Rosemary says. “I just wanted to stay home.”

“I guess I just felt comfortable with you right from the start. The moment I looked at you, I got serious butterflies. You were beautiful.”

She chuckles, looking down at the house. “Someday I’m gonna buy that place and restore it, and live in it. It’d be perfect.”

“I don’t get why you want to purchase that old thing. Nobody’s looked at it for years. It’s got more work in it than it’s worth.”

“It means something. Ever since I was a little girl I used to play around here, and that farmhouse is where I first met you. No mansion or castle could ever be better.” She leans against me.

“Maybe someday.” I don’t want to bring it up, but I know I have to. “Rosie, are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” I take her shoulders and turn her to look at me, straight in the eyes. “I want to make sure that you’re fine after all of that.”

“Just typical McGowan drama. I should be used to it by now,” she says and she tries to pull away, but I hold her steady.

“No, you shouldn’t. That’s not right. He had no business coming in here and treating your family like that.” My voice gets angrier. “I’m serious, Rosie. Nobody hurts you. If he tries anything, I’ll go after him.”

“You better not!” she bursts. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Believe me if we get into a fight, I’m definitely not the going to be the one getting hurt,” I tell her.

“He’s dangerous. They both are,” Rosemary says. “I don’t want you going anywhere near them. Especially my father. He’s not all there.”

“We both had rough pasts, Rosie,” I say. “I just wish yours would stop coming back to haunt you.”

“Marcus is a mean drunk, that’s all he is. But my dad...” Rosemary bites her lip. “He’s something else.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“There’s a chance I could end up just like him.”

“You are
not
going to turn out like Jack. It’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know, Noah?” she asks. “It runs in families. What if I do? I already have mental issues.”

“So do I, you just deal with them,” I tell her. “It’s no big deal. I’ll still love you no matter what. If you try to come after me with a knife I’ll just pin you down like always. No big deal.”

She doesn’t laugh. “You’ll leave me,” she says softly. “You’ll go away, and I’ll be all alone.

“Don’t you go saying that again,” I say, groaning. “Listen, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m not leaving you Rosie. That’s it. You’re pissing me off by saying that all the time. I hear it at least twice a day.”

“Well I only say it because it’s true,” Rosemary says, looking away from me.

“For crying out-” I have to shut up before I say something I don’t mean.

“Noah, I’m terrified of losing you,” she says, and she turns to place a hand on my chest. “I wouldn’t be able to function if I didn’t have you around. You keep me
sane.”

“You keep me sane, too.”

“I know. But you don’t understand how much. I have a job, am going to college, know what I want to do. I even know where I want to live,” she laughs. “I have tons of dreams. But without you in them they’re just...empty.
I have to get used to the fact that it’s going to happen, because one of these days I’m going to do something terrible and turn into a monster-”

“Stop
that!” I yell, and she shrinks down. I take a deep breath, waiting a few seconds, before I lower my voice and say, “If I was going to leave you I would’ve done it already. I do a lot for you, Rosemary. If I didn’t love you and didn’t want to be here, I’d be long gone. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. Just stop worrying about it.”

She drops her head down and instantly guilt sets in. I hate shouting at Rosemary, but sometimes it’s the only way to get through to her. I push her playfully and say, “Rosie. Smile.”

“Nope,” she says, but the corners of her mouth are already turning up.

“Smile!” I say again, and then instantly attack her sides in a furious tickle war. She screams and falls over, and soon we’re wrestling around on the ground as she tries to stop me.

“No-ah!” she protests, giggling as I sit on her and mercilessly start tickling the shit out of her. I don’t stop till she’s out of breath and has given up, lying on her side and waiting for me to quit.

“Are you done being pouty?” I ask, and she nods. I get up off of her and she stands up, groaning. “Noah, this was a new shirt!” she says, gesturing to the dirt stains all over the front.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” I tell her. I brush the dirt off of her and say, “Come on. Let’s go see what’s so special about this house you want.”

I take off at a run down the hill and she follows me, laughing. She’s almost just as fast as I am, but not quite. I slow down just enough for her to catch up and we jog side by side through the tilled fields and to the white farmhouse. We halt just before the sagging building, the black tiles sliding off the roof, the steps leading up to the porch with holes in them.

“It’s beautiful,” she hushes, and I squint my eyes to try and see what she sees. Grabbing my hand, she starts pulling on me. “Come on! Let’s go inside!”

“What? I don’t know if it’s safe,” I say.

“Of course it’s safe,” Rosemary scoffs, though she doesn’t know. “Don’t be a chicken!”

“Trespassing, why not?” I sigh. “I swear, if the house falls on us when we’re in there I’m using you as a shovel to dig us out.” I let her pull me inside, careful where I put my feet. When she opens the door a great wave of dust and mildew hits me, and I start coughing.

Now that it’s light out instead of dark, you can clearly see the outline of the house. Wood floors match the old fashioned wallpaper, only a few discarded paintings and broken pieces of furniture lying around the empty spaces.

“Wow, it’s
so old,”
Rosemary says. “This place had to have been built in the twenties.”

“It definitely hasn’t been updated since.” I kick a discarded chair leg across the room.  A cabinet is slightly cracked open and, curious, I nudge it with my foot. “Whoa,” I say, eyes widening as I look at all the dusty, unopened bottles. “Somebody liked to drink back in the day.” 

“It has an upstairs!” she says, pointing. She starts running up before I can stop her.

“Rosie, we don’t know how stable this place is! Be careful!” Just as I say that my foot breaks through one of the stairs and I struggle to pull myself up through it. “Ugh.” This girl is going to kill me one of these days.

“Found the bathroom,” she says when I crawl into the hallway. She looks out a dirty window and says, “It’s in better condition than I thought.”

“I guess it’s not too bad,” I say fairly. “But it needs a lot of work. A
lot
of work.”

“It’d be a fun project,” she says, heading back down the stairs. “I can’t wait to start on it.”

“You need to get the money, hun,” I say, carefully following her, grabbing onto the baluster that shakes for dear life as I start back down the stairs. “How about you get that degree first?”

“I will, one step at a time,” she says and we walk out the front door together, back through the field and towards her house. “I’ve got to finish up my associate’s.” She pauses. “And you need to pick what you want to do, too.”

The tilled mounds crunch beneath my feet. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Noah...” she hesitates, and I freeze. I know what’s coming. “We’ve been out of high school a year. It’s time to start deciding.”

“It’s not like I’ve been doing nothing. I’ve been working nonstop. I’ve got tons of money put away,” I say, and I do. I have thousands, more than I know what to do with right now.

“Then start putting it towards your education,” she says. “You can’t do anything with a high school diploma anymore, Noah. I know you love working on the farm, but it’s not going to be able to support you forever.” She looks away, and whispers, “Or support me.”

“I don’t want to rush into anything just because it’s what everyone expects me to do,” I tell her. “I’m working on a plan.”

“What, Noah? You told me you were going to school during the winter semester, and then you told me you’d start in the summer, and summer’s almost here.” She takes a deep breath. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to keep putting it off.”

“I don’t know what I want.” I hate this question. I hate the constant fear of not knowing, the constant wondering and debating of what I needed to do with my life. The last thing I needed was my girlfriend to rag on me about it, too.

“Just go with me for a few classes next fall,” she begs me. “At least it’s a start.”

“I just want to love you. Isn’t that enough for now?” I snap quickly at her, and she falls silent. I look away from her, past all the fields and trees and out towards the road, wishing I could be on it now. Behind the wheel of a car and in the garage working on them was the only place I felt like life made sense. The rest of it, and its decisions and commitments, was too much to deal with sometimes. But then I thought of Rosemary and what she was sacrificing. Sometimes I felt guilty and wondered if she was going to community college just because she wanted to be near me. But there’d only be one more year of that, and then she’d have to go to a university. I didn’t know what we were going to do then.

I know she’s right. I have to pick something soon, whether I’m ready or not. I feel like the answer’s right in front of me. But what is it?

We hit gravel again, the road back to Rosemary’s house. I see her walking gingerly on the rocks and I ask, “Feet hurt?”

“Just a bit. I’ve had a couple of rough shifts at the diner lately,” she tells me. Like I don’t know. Rosemary practically runs that restaurant. Full time student and waitress. I couldn’t describe how proud I was of her. Those sandals she was wearing wasn’t doing her any favors when it came to walking on the jagged rocks. “Here,” I say, and I bend down. She jumps on my back and I piggyback her to her house, not letting her down until we’re at her door. By this time, it’s starting to get dark.

“You can come in,” Rosemary says. “Unless you have to be home?”

“When do I ever have to be home?” I ask. I follow her through the neat kitchen, past the perfectly vacuumed carpets and well kept furniture. It was nice to be in a place where people actually kept up on the cleaning for once. I’m surprised everything looks so nice after the cookout, but I figure after what happened, people must’ve stayed to help clean up. Peter and Donna have already went to bed, probably trying to get rest from a long day. I follow Rosemary up to her bedroom and she turns on the TV, popping in a movie. I go to lay down on her bed and she follows me, collapsing on the mattress. I open my arms and hold her close, laughing at the film. Rose doesn’t laugh as much though, and this is her favorite movie. I wonder if she’s just tired or if something’s bothering her.

By the time the movie’s finished it’s nearing ten at night. Rosemary turns off the TV and turns towards me, snuggling into my chest. “You should probably go,” Rosemary says. “I don’t want you falling asleep on the way home.”

“I’ll leave in a minute,” I say, yawning. “I don’t want to go yet.”

She smiles up at me, her eyes glittering in the darkness. “You’re my everything, you know that?”

“Same here,” I say, and I give her a soft kiss, which she returns affectionately. We continue, her lips so soft against mine, so sweet. I’ve never tasted anything in this world better. I’d do anything for this girl. I put a hand on her cheek and stroke her hair back, the kisses starting off light, and then deeper, more passionate.

She pulls away tenderly, running her fingers across my lips, my bangs. “I love you,” she says happily.

I put my hand on her back and pull her closer so I can feel her heart beat against mine, our heads touching. I kiss her forehead. “I love you too.” 

Chapter Two

Early morning rising. Birdsong can be heard through my window, dawn light trickling in past the blinds and creating a halo upon the face of the one I love so much. At first I believe I’m dreaming, believe I’m in a sacred and secret wonderland in which Noah never has to leave, never has to go home. But then I realize that I’m awake, that it is very much the next day and that
Noah is still here.
I hate to wake him, but I must.

“Noah,” I say, shaking him gently. “Noah, get up. We fell asleep.”

He rouses, his eyelids drooping. He looks around my room in confusion, then at me, before wrapping his arm clumsily around me and pushing me back down into bed. “Rosie. Stay,” he grunts.

“I have school, and you have work,” I say, pushing his arm off of me. “We have to get going. Come on.”

He moans and then rolls over to face the wall. I give him an effective kick, which he ignores. I throw my arms up and say, “Whatever. I’m getting dressed.”