Never Eighteen (6 page)

"Yes. You have a chance to live and breathe. Take it. You never know when that life, that breath, is going to be snatched away." We sit in silence for a moment, and then I stand to leave. "I've got to go now, Allie. Are you okay?"

She looks up at me, nods again. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it. Tell Kaylee I said hey."

"Sure," I say. I try to read her face, to see if maybe I had gotten through to her. It's hard to tell. I leave. She doesn't get up, doesn't walk me to the door, just sits, nodding, thinking. I did what I came to do, did my best. It's all I can do.

I get into the car and tell Kaylee to drive. Once we're down the street, I cry. Maybe it was too much, seeing Allie, hearing her story, being a witness to her loneliness, her sadness. For the first time that day, I feel truly overwhelmed.

"How could someone do that to her?" I cry. "To Allie? He ruined her, Kaylee. He fucking ruined her. I don't know if she'll ever be the same."

Kaylee pulls over, stops the car. "Austin, we should go home."

I ignore her. "How can you do that to another human being? People like that selfish fuck, they don't understand. They don't see how valuable a person's life is! He treated her like a
thing,
Kaylee. Something to be used and just thrown away like a fast food wrapper."

"Austin, I really think I should take you home."

"No!" My tears are still flowing. My mind is beginning to disagree with my mouth. I think maybe she's right. Maybe it's too much. I wonder if I'm really making any kind of difference at all. I throw my head back onto the headrest, shut my eyes, breathe deep. Reevaluate. Kaylee stays quiet. I decide. "No," I repeat.

She unbuckles, slides over, wraps her arms around me. I lay my head on her chest. Her hair tickles my head and face. I listen to her heartbeat, listen to her breathe. God I love her! But I know I'll never have her, and it kills me. She holds me closer still. I don't want the moment to end, but I know it has to. I still have much to do.

I let the tears dry, then sit up, calm down. "Thanks." I gaze into those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes so bright, they're almost blinding, like looking directly into the sun.

"That's what friends are for," she says. Her choice of words makes me sad, but the label fits, friendship being all we've ever had.

"So, what do you want to do?" she asks once I'm calm.

"I want to keep going," I say.

"Are you absolutely sure? That seemed kind of rough," she says.

"It was worth it. I'm sure."

"Okay, so, where are we going?"

"Seattle," I answer.

"Sweet," she says, then hesitates. "There will be some fun involved, right? It won't be more fear and tears, will it?"

"All fun," I answer.

"Great!"

"With maybe just a little fear," I add.

She drops an eyebrow. "Well, then let the fear and fun begin," she says while turning the key, reigniting Candy, who in turn sparks and sputters and then calms to a dull roar.

Kaylee flips on the radio for the first time that day. She pushes buttons until she finds a song she likes. She sings. It's a song about a girl named Shawty slapping her own ass. "What
is
this?" I ask.

"You've never heard this song?"

I look at her and shake my head. "Never heard it before. That's not real music anyway," I say as I begin to push the buttons on her stereo.

"Hey! My car, my music," she says.

I keep pushing buttons. "Kaylee, seriously, let me find an actual song with music and lyrics and meaning. Why do I care if Shawty's slapping her ass or whatever? You'll thank me later. Trust me." I flip until I hear a song I know. It's just starting, which is good, because it's one of my favorites. "Now, this is music," I say.

It's one of my favorite bands. The singer sings of love and death, and I hum along and smile. I turn to look at Kaylee, to ask her what she thinks. She's facing forward, ramrod straight, watching the freeway ahead, tears streaming down her face. "Turn it off," she says.

"But, Kaylee—"

"I said turn it off! Shit, Austin!" I comply without another word, and we sit in silence the rest the way to Seattle.

She parks the car and I reach into my wallet to pay for the spot. She gets out, puts the money in the proper slot, comes back to the car, and leans in. "Sorry," she says.

I get out myself, come around to her side, hug her, and say, "It's okay."

"That song was just so sad. It makes me think," she says.

"It's not sad. It's about two people being together for eternity. What's sad about that?"

She brushes away another tear forming in the corner of her eyes, rubs her nose, and says, "Nothing, I guess."

"Exactly. So are you ready to have some fun?"

"It's about time. What are we doing first?"

"EMP," I answer.

"Very cool. I've never been."

"Me either," I say.

The building looks like something out of a sci-fi movie: blue tile, purple and silver metallic squares reflecting the sun's blaring glare. We stop to take a self-portrait outside before entering.

It's the Experience Music Project, a museum dedicated to popular music, honoring the Seattle-bred musician Jimi Hendrix and built by the cofounder of Microsoft Paul Allen. Standing in the center of the museum, we gaze up at the thirty-five-foot cyclone gracing the center of the room:
Roots and Branches,
a sculpture created out of a variety of musical instruments, including six hundred guitars.

We grab a couple of audio guides, which are really just glorified iPods. They explain the exhibits we'll be checking out.

We journey down the Northwest Passage, a hallway honoring all musicians that have come from the area and then head to the Guitar Gallery, an exhibit on the history of the guitar.

Next, we head upstairs to On Stage. Brought into a darkened fake concert stage, we get to pick our own instrument. Kaylee chooses the drums; I take the guitar and mike. You don't need any talent whatsoever—the instruments play themselves and you're only lip-synching to your song of choice, ours being "Wild Thing." They film the entire act, burn it to DVD, and photograph you for a concert poster. I buy both, for twenty-five bucks, a small price to pay to feel like a rock star for three minutes.

With so much to see and not much time, we go directly back downstairs to the Sky Church. If you ever want to be completely absorbed in music, the Sky Church is the place to be. It is a musical religious experience. Before us, a forty-by-seventy-foot video screen displays visions that seem channeled directly from some psychedelic dream. As the music flows from all different angles, it surrounds us, and we feel like we're swimming—no, being baptized—in music. We let it wash over us.

A video of Jimi singing "Little Wing" comes on, and I grab Kaylee's hand, spin her around, and pull her in to slow dance with me. I can tell she's embarrassed at first. Giggling, she tries to pull away. I bring her in closer, and she relents, resting her head on my chest. I realize we've never danced before and more than likely never will again. I want to stay there for hours, pressed in to her like that, smelling her hair, feeling her warmth on my chest, but we have other things to do. I reluctantly pull away. She looks up and smiles, and we move on.

Now done with our tour through the museum, we exit and collapse on a bench outside.

"Ready to head back?" Kaylee asks, looking incredibly tired, which is exactly how I'm feeling.

"Not yet." I look up toward that monument in the sky, the one that defines Seattle and its skyline.

Kaylee follows my gaze and smiles. "I've never been up there. You ever been up there?" she asks.

"Nope, never."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I shrug my shoulders and rise, and we walk toward the Space Needle.

Kaylee gets in line outside for the elevator ride. Secretly, I've already made reservations, so we have to check in at the front desk, which is good, because since it's a Saturday, the line is huge and I'm not sure how long I could have stood there, my legs weak, pain radiating from my feet to my back.

"I want to go ask a question inside. Come on," I say.

We get inside and I tell Kaylee to look around the gift shop while I check in. I don't want to ruin the surprise. Luckily, since she's never been here, she doesn't know the procedure. The elevator we'll be taking is for people with reservations for the restaurant. I motion her back over and we wait for the indoor elevator.

"Why are we taking this elevator?" she asks.

"Because it's here," I answer, hoping she doesn't question any more, which, thank God, she doesn't.

It takes what seems forever for the elevator to arrive. I hand my reservation card to the attendant and we load into the elevator with our fellow riders. I get the camera ready to take pictures of the journey upward. My stomach tangles in knots as we rise higher and higher into the sky. Kaylee grabs the camera and turns it on me, recording my terror. If this, along with the Extreme Scream, doesn't completely cure my fear of heights, nothing will.

The elevator stops just below the observation deck. The doors open and I grab Kaylee's hand and try to pull her out and into the SkyCity Restaurant. She yanks her hand away and says, "No, Austin, no way. It's too expensive."

"Kaylee, come on. We already have reservations. Haven't you always wanted to eat here? I know I have. Please?"

"Fine, but I'm paying for my own dinner."

"No, you're not."

"It's too much, Austin," she repeats as if I hadn't heard her the first time.

"Where else am I going to spend it?"

She looks up at me. I thought I would see those eyes full of understanding, kindness—pity, even. Instead, she glares at me, and I crack up, which I'm sure isn't the reaction she's looking for.

"I'm glad you think this is funny," she says, still giving me an icy glare.

"I don't, really, but you're so cute when you're mad," I slip.

She whips her head around, gives me a flirty smile, and overdramatically bats her lashes. "You think I'm cute?"

I turn it around with a joke: "Only when you're mad. Otherwise, you're hideous. I mean, come on, have you looked in a mirror lately? Stringy hair, practically skeletal, totally ugly." We both laugh. "Can we eat now? I'm starved. I mean, I haven't exactly had a square meal today," I say.

"Oh, that's right, the entire contents of your stomach aside from a few french fries was left in a Puyallup Fair trash can. You must be hungry. Okay, fine, we'll eat," she says, and we head toward the maitre d'. Seated by the window, we're able to enjoy the view to the fullest.

"Do you know what you want?" I ask.

Kaylee looks at the menu. "Christ, it's all so expensive!" she says. She immediately blushes when she realizes how loudly she's spoken. Several of our fellow patrons glance at us, frown, and whisper. I force myself not to crack up. Kaylee puts her menu down. "Order for me. I feel guilty enough eating here. I don't want to feel bad about ordering one of these fifty-dollar dinners."

The waiter arrives for our order. "We'll start with the prosciutto-wrapped Beecher's Flagship cheese and the SkyCity greens. The lady will have the oven-roasted Jidori chicken, and I'll have the petite Kobe top sirloin."

"Very good, sir. Anything to drink?"

I look over to Kaylee. She says, "Let's live it up. How about a Shirley Temple?"

"Two Shirley Temples, please." I hand the menus to the waiter and he leaves us.

"Have I told you you're crazy yet today?" Kaylee asks.

"At least twice." The waiter comes with our drinks, and as we're enjoying them I say, "Let's talk."

"About what?" Kaylee asks.

"Memories."

"Memories? Like what?"

"The day we met. Do you remember?"

"Yeah. I was on the swings and those two idiot boys tried to push me off."

I remember distinctly. Third grade. Even back then I knew there was something special about her. She stood out from everyone, like she glowed or something. I had been leaning against the cool metal of the swing set, just staring at her. Until those two assholes came by.

"And I came to your rescue," I say.

"I didn't need you to come to my rescue." Kaylee laughs. "You were showing off. Trying to be all macho."

"They left you alone, didn't they?"

"You were about a foot taller than they were. I can't say I blame them."

"True. And I was mean."

"Never to me," she says, making me blush, though I'm not sure why.

While talking and waiting for our food, we check out the view of Seattle and beyond. The building spins so slowly, it's barely noticeable. Thank God for a clear day. We can see two bodies of water from our window, Elliott Bay and Lake Washington, the latter being the second-largest natural lake in the whole state. You have Qwest and Safeco Fields, home to the Seattle Seahawks and Mariners, respectively. Mountains Baker, Rainier, and the Olympics look as if they are just beyond the city, though are many miles away. It's awesome.