Journey, The (16 page)

Michelle watched Evelyn Preston digest the comment. She knew that it must have been excruciatingly painful for her to concede that a stranger had a greater role in the life of her daughter than she did. She knew that Evelyn was a proud woman. But she also knew that her mother was not one to let her ego get in the way of the welfare of her children.

"Very well," Evelyn said. "If that's what you want, I won't stand in your way. Shelly thinks the world of you. So do my husband and half the students at the high school."

Evelyn turned away as moisture formed in the corners of her eyes. She walked to a window and stared blankly at the street beyond. A light wind pushed snowflakes against the glass.

"You have a gift, Michelle, one that I do not have, one that I have rarely seen," she said. Evelyn turned to face her guest. "Use it."

CHAPTER 28: MICHELLE

Wednesday, December 12, 1979

Marsha Zimmerman had her talents. She could type eighty words per minute, multitask like no one on the planet, and bake heavenly peach pies. She could also play an organ at church for more than an hour without missing a key and give Tony-worthy performances on the community stage. But even with five years of practice and ample encouragement, she could not roll a bowling ball in a straight line.

Michelle frowned as she watched her colleague throw her ninth gutter ball in nine frames.

"It has to be the surface, Marsha," she said. "I swear to God I saw one of the staff oiling the lanes before we started. He might as well have covered the wood with soap."

Marsha fired flaming arrows at her teammate with her beady brown eyes.

"You're being kind."

Michelle laughed as she watched Marsha return to her seat and waited for her own ball to pop out of a chute and settle onto a U-shaped rack. She wasn't much better, but she didn't care. She looked at bowling as a release and not as a competition. It was a carefree approach that had paid dividends. In twelve weeks Michelle had markedly improved her average and helped the Schoolmarms escape last place in the Wednesday women's league at Holiday Lanes. She rolled two strikes to finish the evening with a score of 145.

"You're getting better," Marsha said. "That's more than I can say. I think I need a break from this."

"Maybe Christmas vacation will do us good," Michelle said, wondering for the third time that week where she would spend the holidays. "Do you mind if I grab something to drink before we head home? I'm getting thirsty."

"Take your time," Marsha said. "I'm going to sit and sulk for a while."

"OK. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Michelle put her scuffed black ball away and walked up to the counter, where she gave her bowling shoes to an attendant, ordered a small root beer, and walked toward six polyethylene tables that overlooked twenty-four lanes. Brian Johnson, nursing a soft drink, sat at one.

"Hi, Brian," Michelle said as she drew close. "Do you mind if I join you?"

He half-heartedly threw out a hand.

"Have a seat."

Michelle put her drink atop the table and surveyed the premises before sitting down. She saw customers in constant motion. Departing bowlers left the pits for the parking lot. Others walked from the lobby to the lanes. Many of the rest explored the arcade, darting from pinball machines and foosball tables to video games like Asteroids, Space Invaders, and Night Driver.

"This is a busy place. Are you just hanging out?"

"No. I'm working tonight. I'm taking a break now."

"Doesn't Shelly usually work here on Wednesdays?"

"She does. But we traded shifts," Brian said. "She said she needed some time to herself."

"Is everything OK? I haven't seen her in a few days."

"She's fine, I guess."

Michelle tilted her head and looked at Brian closely. He wore a pair of Levis and a yellow "Here Comes the Sun" T-shirt. But his disposition seemed anything but sunny. He conspicuously avoided her eyes and looked instead at the recently cleaned carpet to his side.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"She's out with Scott. They're having problems again and she wanted the night off to work on their relationship. It's a daily thing with those two."

Michelle zeroed in on the melancholy man in front of her. In all the years she had known Brian Johnson, she had never seen him this unhappy.

"You like Shelly, don't you?"

Brian lifted his eyes from the floor to the lady sharing his table and looked at her like she had just asked the stupidest question in the world. He took a pull on the clear plastic straw that protruded from his paper cup and smiled sadly at his inquisitive acquaintance.

"I do. I always have. But it doesn't matter. She's way out of my league, and we're already friends. Once you're friends you're always friends. That's all we'll ever be."

Just when Michelle thought her heart couldn't ache for yet another person, it did. She had known Brian since infancy and grown up with him – at school, at church, and even at work. But she had always known him as a friend, the boy next door, the de facto brother who took the place of Freddie and Eddie when they flew the coop. She had never thought of him as anything else. The notion that he thought of her as more than a friend was unsettling and heartbreaking.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"No."

"You should. It couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, it could. We're still good friends and I don't want to ruin that. I just think she deserves better than Scott. He treats her like garbage half the time."

Michelle winced at the observation. Brian, it seemed, had a better fix on Shelly's social life than she had had at age eighteen. She was reminded again of how blind love could be, or at least what passed for love in high school. She wondered how she could have missed so many signs coming from several directions as she navigated her way through her senior year.

"Are there any other girls you like?"

"I like a few, but they're all out of my league too."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Brian. There are probably a lot of girls who would go out with you if you just gave them the chance."

"That hasn't been my experience, Miss Jennings, but thanks for the vote of confidence."

Michelle smiled as she looked at her past and present friend and pondered the cold realities of teenage society. Girls may have openly lamented the lack of good guys to date, but it was the bad boys they sought. Even nice-looking nerds like Brian Johnson had as much a chance with homecoming queens and cheerleaders as did the dopers and slackers. It wasn't fair, but it's the way high school worked.

"What about April? I heard that you two had a pretty good time at Sadie Hawkins. Have you thought about asking her out?"

Brian laughed.

"Are you a matchmaker now?"

"It's one of my many talents!"

Brian smiled.

"I like April too, but it's different with her. She's like a crazy sister who keeps me in line. We've been friends for a long time and I want to keep it that way."

"But you want more with Shelly."

"That's one way of putting it."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Brian frowned and sighed. He glanced again at the freshly washed rug. When he finally returned to Michelle, he looked defeated and lost.

"The problem's real simple, Miss Jennings," he said. "I don't just like Shelly, I love her."

CHAPTER 29: SHELLY

Friday, December 21, 1979

The Benson apartment complex had two distinguishing characteristics. The first was its color. Bright red paint better suited for fingernails covered the lion's share of its twenty units. The second was its asymmetrical shape. The east wing had two stories, the west just one.

Shelly Preston thought of these peculiarities as she left a two-bedroom apartment and walked across a small parking lot to a single-story studio. The residences, like their occupants, were as different as night and day. They were different on the outside and different on the inside. But both had value and each was connected, the former by a stretch of pavement and the latter by a young woman who knew and appreciated the value of friendship.

Shelly thought of friendship as she shook the snow off of her boots and knocked on the door of Apartment A-6. Five inches of powder had fallen since school had closed at noon and more was on the way. She started to flip up the collar of a new ski jacket as a defense against a biting wind when the occupant of the unit opened the door.

"Shelly, what a surprise. Please come in," Michelle said.

Michelle took Shelly's coat and led her to a square table in what amounted to a dining room in the tiny abode. The incapacitating smell of oatmeal cookies filled the room.

"I didn't know you could bake," Shelly said.

"I didn't know either," Michelle said with laugh. "This is sort of a science experiment. So far I haven't burned the place down or even ruined a batch. It's pretty easy to make cookies when you follow the directions. Please sit. I think the first dozen will be ready to eat in a few minutes. Can I get you some tea?"

"I'd love some. I just came from April's. It's colder than tits on a witch out there."

Shelly sat down on a vinyl covered kitchen chair and visually inspected the smallest apartment on Earth, or at least the part of Earth between Main and McKinley. She had been to the studio exactly six times, and each time she had noticed something different about it, something better, such as a new wall hanging or a plant or more books on the shelf. Michelle Jennings, she concluded, was settling in, and that was a very good thing.

Michelle brought two mugs of hot water from the kitchen and placed them on the table. She handed her guest a teabag still housed in its paper packet.

"All I have is peppermint. I hope you like it."

"I love it," Shelly said.

"So what brings you here?" Michelle asked.

"I wanted to give you a present before we left. My folks and I are spending Christmas in Portland, with Freddie's family. We leave tomorrow."

Shelly reached into a heavy paper bag and retrieved a thin, rectangular package. A wide red ribbon and striped holiday paper covered the item.

"It's not much, but I thought you'd like it. Merry Christmas!"

Michelle took the package from her friend and removed the wrapping. What she found was a framed color photograph of the District VII champion raising an arm in preparation for a final combination in the floor exercise.

"It's beautiful. Who took this?"

"The guy from the newspaper, the one who always flirts with the assistant coach. I had it special ordered and framed at the place on Third that raises its prices on weekends."

Michelle laughed.

"I had hoped to give you a picture of a state champion, but it didn't work out."

"It doesn't matter, Shelly. It's a beautiful photograph. It's perfect."

Shelly smiled. She loved pleasing her new friend, just as she loved giving things to others. She took a sip of her piping hot tea and stared blankly out the dining room window.

"Is something wrong?" Michelle asked.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Were you and your husband together a long time?"

"We were together thirty-one years – twenty-four as husband and wife."

"Did you know he was the right one? I mean at the start. Did you have any doubts?"

"I had a lot of doubts. What's this about? Are you having boy problems?"

"I'm having a lot of boy problems. Scott and I fight constantly. Sometimes I just want to tell him to shove it. He's very controlling. Then there's Nick Bender. He likes me and I kind of like him, but he's got some issues. It seems every guy I date or like has serious baggage. Aren't there any normal, decent guys out there?"

Michelle grinned.

"What? You're laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at all. It's just that I talked to one of those normal, decent guys the other day."

"Who?"

"Brian Johnson."

"Brian?"

"Yes, Brian. He adores you, you know."

Shelly furrowed her brows as she tried to figure out where this was headed.

"Did he put you up to this?"

"No. He and I just had a nice little chat the other day."

"Brian is my friend, Miss Jennings. Next to April, he's my dearest friend. He's like a brother to me. I couldn't think of him as anything else."

Michelle smiled in a way that made Shelly feel like she had missed a point.

"I'm just providing information. Sometimes the right answers come in unusual packages."

Shelly shook her head.

"Maybe for some people but not for me. Don't get me wrong. I love Brian. But I love him as a friend, not a boyfriend. There has to be another answer," she said.

Rattled slightly by Michelle's revelation, Shelly tried to get the conversation back on track. The issue was not Brian, or any crush he might have, but Scott Richardson's boorish behavior and whether a principled young lady like Shelly Preston should put up with it.

"Did you fight a lot with your husband when you were dating?"

"We fought all the time. We fought in high school, in college, and after we were married. I don't remember a time when we didn't bicker over something or another."

"So why did you marry him?"

Michelle sighed and glanced at the window. When she looked back she wore a face that Shelly couldn't read.

"It was a combination of things. He was smart, good-looking, and successful. He knew where he was going in life and I didn't. He had been my boyfriend since high school. He was all I ever knew after my junior year. Getting married seemed like the logical thing to do."

As Shelly ran through the reasons why Michelle had married her boyfriend, she noticed that she had left something important off the list. She wondered, and not for the first time, if it were possible to love someone
and
like them, or at least not want to kill them, on a daily basis.

"Did you love him?"

"I did. It took me a long time to admit it, but I did. My husband was a good man. He had many flaws, including some that I considered pretty significant, but he was still a good man," Michelle said. "That doesn't mean, however, that I would have married him if I had had the opportunity to do it all over again. I honestly can't answer that one."