Poughkeepsie (9 page)

She slid on Blake’s army jacket, and her hands found the pockets. When her left hand encountered something hard and smooth, curiosity got the best of her. She pulled it out. The evening granted her eyes enough light to see the pink, heart-shaped stone. Blake had carved the initials “L+B” in its face. The unconventional medium rendered the letters childlike.

Livia and Blake
.

She put the stone back in the pocket. Did their connection still exist? Had she broken it? Broken
him
when she entered his carefully constructed walls?
God, please don’t let this be a mistake
.

Livia could see a chain-link fence in the distance. She hesitated, wondering if Blake was somewhere close in the woods, following her in his silent way. But sensing nothing, she willed her feet forward.

By the time Livia got back to her Escort at the Park and Ride, the dark had descended, her feet ached from dragging the heavy hiking boots around, and she was screamingly hungry. As Livia dug her keys out of her pocket, she saw that Blake had been to her car.

It was covered with little bits of nature: long blades of grass, twigs, and stones. When she got closer she saw more. Blake had used the flora to spell
sorry
over and over on the hood. And the roof. And the trunk.

She felt touched and angry in the same instant. He’d come here to construct this apology instead of helping her out of the woods. Livia punched the hood, but was unable to inflict damage the way Blake had.
It hurts too damn much
.

Livia tossed herself into the driver’s seat. She started her car and drove off a little too quickly. As she pulled away, Livia watched the instruments of Blake’s message flutter into the night.

6

Whore

L
IVIA
G
OT
H
OME
B
ECAUSE
her car took her there. Driving shouldn’t have been a reflex act, but she was thankful for the latent ability she now knew she had.

He left me alone.
Livia wanted to be tougher about it; she’d gotten out of the woods just fine. But her sure, true faith had holes now. She didn’t want to doubt him, but she couldn’t stop. Livia sat in the driveway with the Escort in park. Sobs took her vision in a river of tears.

“Son of a bitch!” Livia slammed the steering wheel over and over.

Then headlights in her rear view mirror gave her a whole new reason to curse. Chris’s truck pulled in behind her. Livia wanted to deal with him about as much as she wanted a root canal. She pointed her rear view mirror to the floor to get the reflection out of her eyes. Chris always left his brights on so people could be “blinded by his awesomeness,” he liked to say. Livia tried to compose herself before Chris opened her door.

“There the hell you are!” he shrieked as it opened. “For crap’s sake, where the fuck have you been?” He stepped back as Livia climbed slowly out. Her long hike had taken a toll on her muscles.
Even blockheaded Chris has the decency to look for me.

“I’ve been calling your cell phone for hours.” Chris stood waiting for an explanation like a Ken doll with all the right accessories. Livia couldn’t find the energy or inclination to describe her afternoon.

He grabbed her blank left hand. “Where’s your ring?”

Livia could see more than concern in his eyes—some anger as well. “It’s at the appraisers. I wanted to insure it.” Livia almost smiled as he blanched.

He avoided an unflattering conversation with an accusation. “Do you want to explain why Dave saw my fiancée sucking face with a homeless man today?”

“No, I don’t. I want to go inside and go to bed, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh,
now
you’re being honest. Where’s your ring, Livia?” Chris stepped closer, trapping her against the car with his arms.

“Hey, Chris, you can back up off my sister right about now.”

Kyle had come silently from the front porch to stand behind him. Her soft voice had barbed wire wrapped around it.

Chris dropped one arm to placate Kyle. She stepped into Livia’s line of sight and bit her lip in concern.

“Did you know your sister’s screwing a homeless man?” Chris taunted. “A freaking crazy-ass bastard? She has the nerve to do it in plain sight of my friend, who I’d just told my
great
news.” Chris’s eyes bore into Livia as he spoke to Kyle.

Livia felt her nerves fray at the insults. Chris wasn’t wrong for being mad. She hadn’t told him they’d broken up, but she’d certainly moved forward as if she had. Livia rubbed her temples in an effort to make thinking easier.

“Chris, we’re over. I don’t want to even
date
you anymore, never mind marry you. I’d give your crappy-ass ring back, but I threw it in the Hudson when I realized the underwear I’m wearing is worth more than it was.” Livia stared blankly at his familiar face.

“That’s it?” Chris tossed his hands in the air.

Kyle took a step closer and stood shoulder to shoulder with Livia. It was comforting.

“Nope. Dave’s right. I kissed another man. And he kissed the hell out of me. I think I’m still aroused from the whole incident.” Livia watched rage crawl up Chris’s arms and tense his face.

He looked at Kyle. “Can you believe this shit?”

Kyle smiled. “Yes. I
so
can believe it. You’ve never deserved her.” Kyle put her tall dancer’s body between Livia and Chris. “And you’re going to leave right now, or I’ll wake up my dad.”

Chris inflated himself like a balloon. “You do that, Kyle. I’d love to see his reaction to Livia’s homeless boyfriend.” Chris turned his rage back on Livia. “Did you sell the ring to buy him a new cardboard box to live in?”

At that, Kyle put her hand in the middle of Chris’s chest. “You’re done here. Leave.”

Livia stood quietly, waiting for righteous indignation to find her and spur a clever retort. Instead she closed her eyes and pictured Blake as he stood in the sun, waiting for judgment.
Have I ruined him? Why did he leave me alone?

She opened her eyes as Chris walked away with elaborate pointing. Livia knew she should pay attention to his threats. Should she try to comfort him? This news had been a shock. Kyle was like a guard dog, jumping in her anger as he spoke.

“Whore!” The faded insult hit Livia’s ears just as her father slapped on the porch light and walked toward the ruckus, clicking his shotgun into position with one hand. The neighbors’ porch lights twinkled on like fireflies.

Livia shook herself out of her numbness. “Kyle, go in the house before you hurt him. Chris, quit acting like a Neanderthal and go home. We’ll talk about this later. Dad, please disengage the shotgun.”

The tone of her voice touched something in each person. Chris climbed into his truck, mumbling under his breath, and John broke the smooth, straight line of his weapon with one practiced motion. Only Kyle refused to move, still using her body as a barrier between Chris and Livia. But she did stop launching insults about his penis. Chris tore out of the driveway, tires squealing.

Livia slammed her car door shut. “I owe you an explanation, but for now let’s leave it at this: Chris and I broke up.”

Livia turned, passed her family, and went up to the shower. She turned the water handle to red hot as she undressed. The showerhead had one wild stream that created a gentle spray apart from the regular flow of water. Livia reached up and twirled her hand through it as she stepped in. The bathroom light caught little drops of water and made them prisms.

She remembered the forest’s rainbow mist.
He left me alone. I could still be out there
.
Where is he?

Livia went through all the steps of her bedtime routine, but sleep never came.

Livia hated watching her alarm clock go off. It reminded her of those horrible Jack-in-a-Box toys—shocking, even though she knew it was coming. After she was dressed, she stood in the kitchen chewing on her thumbnail for a while.

Make a breakfast for him or don’t make a breakfast for him. That is the question
.

But it wasn’t really a question. Livia couldn’t let Blake go hungry. No matter what kind of mixed bag her emotions were, she wouldn’t deny him food. She packed it carefully in disposable plastic containers and a paper bag. She also grabbed some bandages and more first aid supplies. Blake’s hands would need attention.

As she backed out of the driveway, Livia noticed the thick, black scars Chris’s truck tires had left on the asphalt. His screaming protest was permanent now.
Damn him
. Maybe she did owe him more of an explanation.

Livia shuffled thoughts of Chris to the back of her mind. Her cell phone buzzed like an angry bee in the passenger seat. Livia slid the pink phone open at the stoplight—the way she promised her dad she never did.

Hannah from high school was the most recent text. Livia clicked it suspiciously. Hannah was a screamingly self-centered gossip who’d always seemed to have a crush on Chris.

Heard ur screwing the homeless. LOL! Hobolicious freak @ train station
is ur new STD buffet? ROFLMAO. <3

Livia groaned. Chris was obviously spewing his anger around town. Between him, Hannah, and Dave, she could soon expect a sky writer proclaiming the news. A honk reminded Livia to drive. The phone sang a song as Livia powered it down and pressed on the gas.

Remember two eighty-six
. Livia now counted on the same sort of feverish, rain-soaked determination that had driven Blake to the train station for smile number two hundred eighty-six.
Please be there
.
He has to be there
.

Livia parked quickly and hurried out of the Escort. She dropped her phone twice before she managed to get it into her bag. She stopped when she got to the top of the stairs to the platform and searched. And searched. And searched. Nothing.

Livia waited until the last possible moment, but finally she just set the breakfast down where Blake usually sat. She swore Homeleth Humper looked smug and happy. As she boarded, Livia talked herself out of throwing him in front of the train.

On the ride home after a long day at school, Livia commanded her eyes to look at the floor of the train and not search for him. But they took direct orders from her heart and combed the platform as the train pulled in.

The bag she’d left was still there. Livia’s heart cracked like an egg in its delicate shell. It was dusk, but Livia took her sunglasses out of her purse and covered her eyes. That felt better. With sunglasses to shield her eyes, she was nothing more than an impassive, immovable commuter.

That night she took four allergy pills to ensure sleep. They also prevented dreams, and that worked just fine too. This became her routine: home from the train, finish schoolwork as quickly as possible, allergy pills, bed. In the mornings, she took care to leave by the back door so she could avoid the kitchen. She couldn’t even face the room where she’d once prepared breakfasts in a cooler.