Redeem Me (8 page)

W
hen Noble first asked if I was going to the Rutgers homecoming game, I said no.

I said no to Julia, to Violet, to Sydney, and three more times to Noble.

It wasn’t until Noble “happened” to mention it to Sean that Sean convinced me to go. I know I’m exhausting him, probably Michelle, too. He’s been so worried. He told me it might do me good to get out of Salem County, and I figured the least I could do is leave town and give him a break. Noble was kind enough to offer to drive, which will give me about ninety miles to bitch at him about bothering Sean.

I watch Noble hop out of a Jeep at exactly 7:30 a.m. properly attired in his alumni garb. Smiling, this boy is always smiling. Red Rutgers shirt, long camo cargo shorts, and a Phillies cap. He’s more like a surfer than a farmer. His skin is sun-kissed from the harvest and his hair is wavy and perfectly too long. His smile broadens as I come out the garage door. It’s easy to understand the appeal of Noble.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask, walking to the Jeep.

“I decided to bring the Jeep today.”

“Good choice.”

“It’s going to be windy. Do you want the top on?”

“No!” I practically yell at him as I grab an old cowboy hat out of the garage. “I love Jeeps. My father had one for a while.”

“I remember,” he says, and it floors me how often I associate Noble with Rutgers and forget the lifetime I spent with him in Salem County before we went there. The passage of time continues to confound me.

“What’s this?” I ask, picking up the brown bag before plopping onto the passenger seat. I open it and the aroma of bananas forces my eyes shut as I take a deep breath. “Mmm.”

“Banana bread. My sister Jackie brought it over yesterday.”

I unwrap the bread and hand a slice to Noble.

He shakes his head. “You eat it.” The generosity in his words is hidden by the worry in his eyes. “You’re fading away on me.”

You have no idea, Noble.

He cranks the stereo and I close my eyes and rock my head to the music while I devour both slices of banana bread. By the time we get to the turnpike, my shoes are off and my feet are resting on the dash. The last of the warm October sun is already starting to beat down on us. I open my eyes and Noble’s looking at me. A normal person would quickly look away but Noble just keeps watching me—smiling, of course.

“It’s good to see you happy.”

“Is that what this is? It’s been so long.” How long? August, September, October—three months. I remember I have sunscreen and get my bag. I diligently apply the lotion to my arms, legs, and face, even though it’s mostly covered by my hat.

“Sunscreen?” I ask, holding it up as if I’m handing out samples at Costco.

“Uhhh, sure,” he says, trying to figure out how to apply it and drive at the same time. He holds out his arm and I massage the lotion using both hands, being careful not to miss a spot. As I knead the lotion, I conjure up the images of him shirtless I’ve filed away from our Rutgers days. The only things better than his arms are his shoulders. I warm inside and look from his shoulders to his neck, to his eyes, which are again focused on me. No smile this time. The look on his face moves me, but I don’t understand in what way. I drop my hands but not my eyes and try to steady my breathing.

“You should keep your eyes on the road,” I manage.

“Would you mind putting some of that sunscreen on my thighs?”

I look at his long shorts; even seated they hang almost to his knees. I put the sunscreen back in my bag, ignoring my naughty Noble.

We travel the rest of the way listening to Noble’s eclectic playlist, which includes some of my favorites, many of which I forgot even existed. And he’s right, I’m happy. What other things have I forgotten? Surely I was happy before Jason. Before my parents left me. The mileposts pass quickly and I’m disappointed when we come to our exit. Today is different from my trips here the past two years. Returning to Rutgers every time since my parents died was heart-wrenching, another separation from Jason.

I wanted to finish for my parents’ sake, but it was a complete barrier to being with him. He didn’t go to school here, and categorically did not fit in here, so even when he did stay longer, the time was strained. He and his cowboy boots were as close to an alien as North Jersey had ever seen. I don’t think any of my friends knew what to make of him.

This trip is easy with Noble. He belongs at Rutgers, probably more than I do.

“Where are you staying?” he asks, breaking my reverie.

The sound of his voice returns the smile to my face. “Julia and I are sharing a room at the Hyatt. You?”

“I’m crashing at Harry’s. That’s the benefit of having friends on the five- and six-year programs. What’s your plan for today?” he asks, seemingly as a courtesy. The football field and all of the homecoming tailgate parties are in Piscataway, interspersed within thirteen color-coded parking lots, making the need for a plan essential and the odds of running into someone by chance impossible.

“Well, we’re going to meet Violet at Olde Queens Tavern at nine.” According to the clock in the Jeep, it’s going to have to be a fast check-in.

Noble notices my time check and offers, “Why don’t you run and check in and I’ll drop you guys off at Queens on my way to Harry’s? Where are you going after that?”

“Heading to the field. We hope to get over there by eleven. I think we’re meeting other people in the Blue Lot. What’s your deal?”

“Don’t know. I’m going to Harry’s and I’ll probably have to wake those guys up. Eventually we’ll make it to the field. We’re going to try and meet up with Buzz, Bowl, and Hammer.”

“Are they with Wheels, Donger, and Slu?” I laugh, remembering all the nicknames. I love those boys from Brigantine.

“Probably…and Rob and Tony…and the rest of the Bartlett Street boys. If I don’t see you again, call me when you get up in the morning.”

“Perfect.”

“Don’t lose your cell phone,” he warns.

“I’ll try.” Many cell phones will be lost this weekend. Cell phones, shoes, girlfriends, boyfriends, freedom, pride, etc. Rutgers Homecoming is not for the weak.

The front desk informs me Julia has already checked in and she’s upstairs. I find her spraying her hair and toss my bag on the bed.

“Charlotte! How are you?” she asks. Julia knows I don’t like a big hug-and-kiss hello and I love her for remembering. “Sorry about the king-size bed. They were out of doubles.”

“I don’t care if you don’t. Noble’s waiting downstairs to give us a ride to Queens.”

“That’s awesome! Let’s go,” she says, and starts walking out the door. I grab my phone, ID, money, and ChapStick, and put them in the pocket of my hoodie.

Julia gives Noble a big hug-and-kiss hello and I hop in the back of the Jeep to let Julia avoid the wind. I gaze at Noble in the rearview mirror. I wish he was staying with us; my favorite memories of Rutgers include him.

“Oh. Before I forget, take this.” Julia pulls out a room key from her pocket. “Just in case we get separated.”

“Oh God, please don’t leave me,” I say, and Noble looks at me, concerned. In my limited forethought about this weekend, I never included the possibility of being alone, or at least without Julia or Noble. I want Noble to turn around and take me back to the hotel.

“I won’t, but you should have a key,” Julia says, calming me.

“Can I have the one in the envelope with our room number on it? I’ll never remember it.” I can only see Noble’s eyes in the mirror but he is, yet again, laughing at me. Julia hands it over and I lean forward to slide it into my back pocket.

Violet is yelling our names before we even stop the car. Noble double-parks to get out and collect all his hugs and kisses. He charmed all of my friends our first weekend at Rutgers, and they’ve loved him ever since. Noble and his roommates would come over when the campus was quiet, and we’d start a party at our house. Julia was the only person brave enough to mention that the girls were disappointed when Jason came to visit because we didn’t hang out with Noble as much.

Violet smothers me with a big hug and a bright red kiss on the cheek, which will probably be there all day. She also knows I hate hugs and kisses hello but forces both on me and I love her for it, too. It’s as if she refuses to give up on me. Noble pulls away as we walk into Queens just as the line at the front door begins to form.

Beers, bagels, pictures, kisses—it all flows fast and we’re hopping in Violet’s boyfriend’s SUV to get to the stadium. We park in the Purple Lot and begin unloading the coolers. On the way to the Blue Lot I run into Tom and Falvey, Shappy, Doug, Rob, and Sonal. I hadn’t even realized I missed them but am elated at the sight of them. Julia’s done a thorough job of spreading the word that Jason and I have broken up and that I don’t want to talk about it because no one asks a thing about my love life. I picture her tiny self, walking five feet ahead of me threatening people, and her protection brings another smile to my face. Noble was right; I needed to come. I’ll have to remember to tell him.

We make it into the stadium but never to our seats. Within minutes, Julia and Violet disappear into the crowd of ZTA sorority sisters

“Charlotte! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Sydney walks up and forgets she’s yelling at me as she appraises Noble’s friend Rob, who’s standing next to me. “Julia thought you went back to the car. I’m glad I found you before I went all the way out there.”

I embrace Sydney out of habit and happily step back as she begins chatting with Rob. Sydney and I waitressed together while we were at Rutgers. She’s never met a person she didn’t like or had a conversation she wasn’t interested in. Sydney has a network with everyone or will have one by the end of the day. She’s definitely a connector.

“Charlotte, I’m so glad I found you,” Sydney says, and literally pulls me back into the conversation.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask. She’s one of only seven people who have my cell phone number. She might as well use it.

“Charlotte, I did. I called like five times.”

I check my phone and there are three texts and five missed calls. I linger over the screen, disappointed there are none from Noble. “I just saw Nick at the Rail. Farming agrees with him,” she says, practically purring.

Rutgers scores and shoots the cannon, and about six of us head out to the Blue Lot. I text Julia and Violet to let them know I’m heading back to the parking lot and hope they’re already there. As I exit the gate, Sydney jumps in front of me. “Hold up. What are we doing for our birthday next month? I was thinking a girls’ trip is in order.”

I stop walking, stunned. I’d forgotten my birthday, our birthday. Sydney and I were born on the same day. My mom gave me a childhood of birthdays as special as any national holiday. It was fitting that I found Sydney at Rutgers. She’s the perfect person to carry on the celebrations. The last two years I would have been satisfied with just Jason, but Sydney will
always
make sure our “big day” is properly recognized.

“I don’t know,” I say, unable to even consider a celebration.

“We’ll talk more next week. We have to get on it,” she says, and hugs me.

Before I can sink too deeply into that thought, the sky opens up and unleashes a driving rain. We scatter and I don’t even know where I’m running. I hear Rob and Julia yelling my name from a small brown hatchback, and I squeeze into the back with Julia. Rob and a guy I’ve met a few times but whose name I can’t recollect are up front. The four of us are soaking wet. My cutoffs are sticking to me and I’m not sure if my shirt is see-through. I suspect it is since I notice Rob surveying my chest in the rearview mirror.

“Holy shit! It’s really coming down,” Rob says.

Most people are still running, trying to find shelter. Some have succumbed to the black sky and are dancing in the rain. I watch them splashing in the new puddles and twirling arm in arm until the rain drives harder and I can’t decipher a thing outside the car.

“Hey, Charlotte, reach behind the seat and check if you see a towel.”

I do and also find his overnight bag and a brush. Handing him the towel, I raise the brush and ask him if he minds. From the Jeep, to a day at the field, to the soaking rain, I’m not sure if a brush will ever go through my hair again. I untie it and begin the torturous process.

“Wow, Charlotte, your hair has gotten long. Looks good,” Rob says, and Julia raises her eyebrows, out of sight of the guys.

“Yo, Tony, light up.”

Aah, Tony. That’s right.

Tony pulls out a plastic bag and a one-hitter and takes a long hit. He hands it to Rob, who passes it to me as he turns on the radio and music fills the car.

“Oh yeah,” Julia sings, and Rob turns the volume up and the music engulfs us. I nod my head as the drums hypnotize me and belt out the chorus.

“I am a great singer,” I say, completely serious.

Julia laughs hysterically. The one-hitter is passed, and passed again, and the rain continues, and I’m still profoundly happy I came to Homecoming. I can’t comprehend not being happy right now.

I tap the beat with my left foot and try to tap every other with my right. When I think I’ve mastered it, I bob my head in sync with my right foot. “I’m also a musical genius,” I half yell, and Julia doubles over laughing. Something about this song forces you to move your entire body.

I try closing one eye at a time to check my single vision. It must be fine because the examination quickly loses my interest and I focus on watching the raindrops streak down my window. We quiet down and realize Rob’s phone is ringing, which we all find hilarious. He turns the radio down and fumbles with the phone, finally getting it to his ear.

“Hello,” he manages, half chuckling.

It makes me think we’re the definition of chuckleheads and I laugh out loud.

“Oh hey, yeah, that’s Charlotte. She, Julia, Tony, and I are stuck in my car in this downpour. Where are you guys?” Rob pauses and Tony offers him another hit. He takes it and I imagine the caller can easily discern his activity. “Oh shit, you never made it over. No worries. Seriously, man, there are a ton of people but most are headed back to the bars anyway.” Another pause and Julia makes a funny face, and I think I might pee my pants I’m laughing so hard.