Salvaged (3 page)

"I can't wait."

Football season was my favorite time of year, and Saturday
through Sunday nights ran together as I sat and watched game after
game. My ritual usually started Saturday mornings with "College
Game Day" and then progressed through the weekend. College
football was by far my favorite, but I watched professional football as
well, seeing as how there weren't any college games on Sundays.

"A lot of great players are returning to the Sooners this year, Mr.
Bennett. It should be a great season."

"Dang straight. Everyone on the SportsAnimal is already talking
about a National Championship. I think it'll be exciting, and you
can come over and watch it all on that huge screen."

"I'll bring the chips and dip. You supply the beer."

"Very funny," he said dryly just as Mrs. Bennett yelled for me to
join her in the kitchen.

"Let's have some girl talk. It's been awhile since there's been
another girl in the house."

"You poor soul." Mr. Bennett grabbed me and gave me a bear
hug. "She's been preparing for this moment since she knew you were
coming. It could be a very long night, so I hope you got some rest
on the plane."

I couldn't bear to tell him that I was tired and only wanted to
crawl in bed. I hadn't slept since the night before, and even then I'd
spent much of the night awake. A bad dream woke me up, and I
never fell back to sleep.

Mr. Bennett gently squeezed my shoulders and pushed me into
the kitchen as I braced myself for what was going to be hours of
listening to Mrs. Bennett have "girl talk."

I took my usual seat at the kitchen table as music played from
the laptop sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Bon Jovi?" They were her favorite.

"Of course. Riley taught me how to download music and videos
from iTunes, and I'm telling you, Attie, I've spent a fortune on all
kinds of old music. I have over four hundred songs on that thing."

"That's impressive." I gave an approving nod. "I may need to
check it out and download some songs onto my Shuffle."

"You should. And I hate to brag, but I'm totally hip."

"Hip?"

"Oh yeah, I've got a lot of newer stuff on there too. Justin Tim-
berlake, Fergie, all kinds of stuff. Some of it's a little racy, but I pretend I don't notice."

"Sounds good. You're definitely hip," I confirmed sarcastically.

"Riley and some of his friends caught me in here dancing the
other day while I was doing the dishes. I thought he was gonna die
of embarrassment, but I think I move pretty well for my age. I mean,
I was a cheerleader in my heyday, but Riley said he thought I might
blow out a hip or something."

"He clearly underestimates your talent."

"You always did speak the truth, Attie. I'm gonna love having
you home."

"So I guess teaching at a high school means you get to hear all
kinds of new music."

"Oh yeah. The girls make sure I'm up-to-date. It helps me stay
young. I'm not the old fuddy duddy type."

"No, you definitely aren't that."

I glanced around the red kitchen as she talked about her favorite
students. She'd always been a collector, so knickknacks filled every
available space. Her decorating style perfectly matched her personality-busy. Handmade gifts from Riley, Melody, and years of students littered shelves that she'd hung randomly on the walls, and
trophies of all sizes, shapes, and types filled the china cabinet. Funny,
I didn't actually see china.

While looking around the room, I noticed for the first time that
behind every item she displayed there was a story. These weren't just
knickknacks, they were memories. The items kept her attached to
her past and now, in many ways, attached to Melody.

Her continued flurry ofwords caught my attention, and although
I wished we would simply get it over with and acknowledge the
extremely large elephant in the room, we continued to make small
talk as she unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. I wondered how
long it would be before someone in the house mentioned the name
"Melody."

Mrs. Bennett began fanning herself in an effort to cool down.
"So, Attie Reed, let's get caught up on your life."

Riley suddenly appeared and entered the kitchen, but she held
out a hand and shushed him away. "We're having girl talk in here.
You get on out."

He ignored her and continued on his path. "I need a drink."

"Drink your spit," she said, giving him a gentle shove back
toward the living room. "You can get a drink later."

"Mom, seriously, I just need a drink, and then I'll leave you two
alone."

"Fine," she said, throwing her hands onto her hips. "You've got
fifteen seconds."

He rolled his eyes for the second time since I'd arrived and
grabbed a water out of the fridge before walking back out of the
room in a huff.

Mrs. Bennett turned up the music and then turned to face me.
"So do you have a boyfriend?"

She wasn't wasting any time trying to get to the good stuff, and
I was immediately embarrassed.

To avoid her gaze, I reached for an oatmeal cookie from the
plate in front of me. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"You're kidding? No boyfriend?"

"I don't mind really. Guys just don't seem to pay me any
attention."

I noticed Riley's head snap in our direction, and by the look
on his face, he didn't seem surprised by my admission. Luckily, he
quickly lost interest and turned his attention back to the TV.

"I've always known I wasn't one of the pretty girls. I think boys
see me more as buddy material. You know, like someone they want to hang out with but don't necessarily want to make out with. I'm
beginning to believe that's my lot in life, every guy's best buddy."

Mrs. Bennett's head shook so violently from side to side that I
was surprised it didn't fall right off. "I don't believe a word of that,
Attie. You're gorgeous; you always have been. I bet the boys are just
intimidated by you. You're self-confident, and you know what you
want. That scares boys off."

"I wouldn't say I'm self-confident. Clueless maybe, but definitely
not self-confident. And anyway, you know what boys want, and I
don't have them."

Her eyes grew wide in anticipation. "What do boys want?"

"You know ... they want girls who have big boobs, and I don't
have those."

A clammer rose from the living room, and I realized that Riley's
chair had fallen over and he was sprawled onto the floor.

"Stupid chair," he said, getting up off the floor, giving it a kick,
and moving to the couch.

Mrs. Bennett laughed. "Oh, Attie, if there's one thing boys want
more than big boobs, it's a challenge. Stand your ground, hold on
to your values, and make `em wait. You do that and you'll have boys
falling all over you."

"That's what Mom always said. `Boys like a challenge.' But I
don't think I'm trying to be a challenge as much as that I just am one.
By nature I'm a challenge. Mom always said I was a handful and it
would take a very special boy to put up with me."

"She said that?"

"Well, that and that if anyone ever kidnapped me they'd let me
go after only a few hours. I guess she figured I'd drive them crazy
with all my talking."

"She always did have a sense of humor. You'll find a special boy
one day, and he won't care that you don't have huge boobs, although
yours are perfect. Not too much and not too little. Just right."

I grabbed another cookie while sneaking a look at my chest.
Mrs. Bennett was wrong; they were too small and far from perfect.

"Riley, get on in here and open this jar for me," she screamed.

"Mom, I'm watching TV."

"Don't start with me," she threatened.

I noticed him shiver at the sound of her voice and remembered
he'd once said her voice was so shrill it was like the sound of fingernails dragging down a chalkboard. "Get your butt in here right now
before I call your dad in here to make you do it."

He threw himself off of the sofa, stomped into the kitchen, and
opened the jar before slamming it onto the counter and starting to
walk back out.

"Wait just a minute, mister. I'm not finished with you yet."

He threw an angry glare my direction, which caused me to pull
my legs up to my chest in defense.

"Where do you think you're going?" his mom asked.

If there's one thing she excelled at, it was intruding in other people's lives. Nothing was sacred or secret as long as she was around.
Knowing other people's business was what she lived for.

"Answer me, Riley. Where are you going?"

He removed his stare from me and transferred it to his mother.
"I'm goin' for a walk for cryin' out loud," he snapped.

"To where?"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"Don't get smart with me, Riley Bennett."

"Probly Joshua's."

"Well, why don't you invite Attie to go along? She's been cooped
up in airplanes all day, and I'm sure Joshua would love to meet her."

She wasn't merely making a suggestion; she was pretty much
giving him an order, and we both knew there would be hell to pay if
he didn't comply.

"Fine," he said rudely. "Wanna come, Attie?"

"You go ahead," I replied. "I wouldn't want to intrude. I think
I'm doing that enough already."

"Riley!" she yelled.

He glanced back at me, and his eyes practically begged me to let
him off the hook.

"It's okay, Mrs. Bennett; I've got to unpack anyway."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

As I got up and walked toward him, I realized just how tall he
was. The top of my head barely reached his shoulders, and I was
instantly aware that if he wanted to he could break me into a million
pieces in a matter of seconds.

I reached up and gave him a pat on the head. "It's all right, Riley;
I'm a big girl. If I want to go for a walk, I can go by myself."

And with that, I skipped up the stairs toward my room.

Riley Bennett had tried to get the best of me and failed miserably. I'd won round one.

I needed some serious alone time, so I threw my hair into a ponytail
and washed my face. The Bennetts kept their house colder than I
was accustomed to, so I threw on some sweats in an effort to ward
off the chills and made my way toward my new space.

Nothing had changed in Melody's room. One summer while
I visited we painted the walls hot pink and all the trim and furniture black. Her mother hated the idea but allowed us do it anyway.
Melody was proud of the room once we finished it, and now here
I was taking it over as my own for the summer. If I'd known that I
would be staying here, I would have encouraged her to use different
colors.

Not even the bedspread had changed.

My chest tightened, I was beginning to get short of breath, and
my heart raced.

I couldn't do it; I couldn't sleep in her bed-not tonight.

"You're all right. I'm right here," a gentle voice soothed.

"So you followed me all the way to Oklahoma?"

"Of course."

My eyes searched until they found Jesus sitting on Melody's bed.
Just as he'd been the first time I saw him standing in my hospital
room, he wore blue jeans, a simple t-shirt, and his feet were bare.

"Rough day?" he asked rhetorically. Of course, he always knew
how I felt.

"Not the best, but not the worst."

He smiled at me. "What's on your mind?"

"As if you don't already know."

I sat in silence for several moments as he waited patiently for
me to continue.

"I don't know if I can do this tonight. Sleep in Melody's bed, I
mean. Just being in this room makes me miserable. It's all very painful. Literally and physically painful."

My heart ached, and my eyes filled with tears.

"I can understand that. Melody was a special friend. I know how
well you fit together, how much you enjoyed each other."

I was angry and confused. "Why did you give her to us only to
take her away?"

"Would you rather you never knew her?"

I shook my head. "Of course not."

"It's complicated," he whispered.

My mood was turning somber. I knew that my mind would
never grasp how or why anything happened, let alone the deaths of
innocent people, but I still wanted answers.

"Attie, you'll never understand why my Father and I allow
the things we do. You just have to remember that all things work
together for good."

"Good? The death of innocent people?" My mind couldn't even
reconcile the thought.

"Not that, no. But out of your walk through that pain, good
will come. You're stronger now, more compassionate, and you value
human life more than most people your age. Those are all good
things."

"Couldn't you teach those things another way?"

"Yes." He was now sitting next to me on the floor. "You've done
well, Attie. You've done most everything I've asked of you. You will
see the good one day, I promise."

"I guess I'll just have to trust you on that?"