Wanderlove (9 page)

“Wow. It must be interesting, having such a full house. I don’t have any siblings, so I’ve never really known what its like, that bond.”

“Really? That’s odd for a
Rom
.”

“Well, my mother died at a young age.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago.” I shrugged.

I heard the afternoon bell tolling from the courtyard and students began packing up their things to leave. I was disappointed to leave so soon. Although I was enjoying the school day, it was nice to have this small reprieve.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Lola,” Cam said to me genuinely. And then with a note of hostility, he added, “Time to blend in with the rest of the gaje now.”

“You don’t enjoy this?” I asked, lightly chuckling.

He raised a thick blonde eyebrow at me that clearly conveyed his feelings.

“With that expression, I think I can guess for myself.”

After the school day was finished, I raced home to remove my starchy uniform before starting my volunteer work. It felt great to be able to take it off. For some reason, I really detested those clothes. Afterwards, I threw on a much less restricting purple t-shirt and the pair of jean shorts I purchased with Miriam.

On my way to the beach, I decided I should probably cut down my service to two or three times a week instead of going every day. It was only the first day of school and I already had a pile of homework waiting for me back at the house. Since Miriam was spending so much money on my education, I really didn’t want to disappoint her with bad grades.

I checked in with the other volunteers, who usually met at the pier. We all had to checkin with our district leader, who supplied us with golf carts and trash bags for collection. Our district leader was a firefighter named Hank. He looked like he was in his late fifties, but he was in good shape; his shoulders were broad and his arms were massive. I supposed there weren’t too many fires to worry about in this small town, which was probably the reason he landed his position with Habitat for Humanity. But he was perfect for the job. He was a no-nonsense, very stern man. He rarely smiled, either. He simply handed out instructions along with the trash bags. I suspected he was forced to take on that persona because most of the volunteers were there on court orders. And many of the others were high school students trying to gain their required community service hours.

As I made my way to the front of the line, Hank handed me a trash bag and a set of keys.

“Name?” he asked.

“Lola Moori,” I answered.

“Do you have papers?” he asked.

“No, sir.” He glanced down at me after checking my name off of his clipboard.

“You do know you’re supposed to bring them to receive credit, right?”

“The hours aren’t required at my school. I attend Frightwell and Black’s.”

Hank raised a brow skeptically. “And you’re not here through the juvenile court?”

“No, sir.”

Hank slightly shook his head and then shrugged. “All right, then. I just wanted to make sure you were getting your credits. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been busting your butt out there. It’s nice to see someone do it for nothing for a change.”

I heard the sounds of a few people groaning behind me. A wave of heat rushed to my cheeks. I gave Hank a small smile and quickly made my way to my designated golf cart while he signaled the next person.

If he only knew
, I thought to myself. If he only knew I
should
be forced to do this work. I
should
be spending the next ten to fifteen years of my life doing manual labor. It didn’t feel right letting Hank believe I was merely a fellow environmentalist. But I didn’t dare tell him the truth.

I headed towards my assigned area of the beach, which was always next to Miriam’s house as I requested. As soon as I got there, I was in for quite a surprise. Another row of soda cans had been strategically set out, and they were leading towards the pier I found them near the last time.

I was even more furious this time around. I couldn’t understand how someone could not only leave their trash behind, but they even made an effort to leave it behind in a scornful way. I was practically fuming as I picked up can after can. I searched the beach for the culprit, but just to add to my luck, it was completely quiet today. There was no one around. No one in sight. And no one getting caught.

Just like before, the soda cans stopped at the pier, with no explanation. They simply ended.

After I was done picking all of them up, I found myself heading down the docks towards Gabe’s boat. I wasn’t sure if he would be there, but I was too curious to leave without looking for him. I knew I shouldn’t seek him out. The man had been horribly oblivious to me the other day. Not to mention he was now Annika’s ex-fiancé. But for some reason, I sought him out, anyway.

When I didn’t immediately find him, I was extremely disappointed. And then I became upset with myself for looking for him in the first place.

You must be a fool
, I thought to myself. I was just about to leave when out of nowhere, I turned around and he was suddenly standing behind me on the dock, with a toolbox in tow.

Now that I was so close to him, the full impact of being able to view his disturbingly handsome features in vivid detail left me slightly breathless.

“You again?” he said to me in a very non-enthusiastic tone of voice. “What is this time? Or is it still the cans?”

When I didn’t immediately answer, he merely sidestepped me and hopped onto his boat as if I were the last person in the world he cared to see at the moment.

His lack of manners astounded me, for the second time around. Yet I was somewhat appreciative of his awful behavior because it began overshadowing his good looks, and it allowed me a moment to find my voice.

“Actually,” I declared. “I
am
here to ask you about the cans, but not the same ones as before. Today I found another row of them! They led me straight to this pier, just like the last time.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” His back was still the only part of him facing me.

My muscles stiffened. I crossed my arms in front of me, completely pissed off. Tilting my head to the side, I asked, “Well, you’ve been the only one out here both times. How do I know it wasn’t
you
who left the cans for me to clean up?”

My mouth parted as I realized what I’d just said. I couldn’t believe I was actually accusing him of being the mysterious can-culprit, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. This time he did turn towards me, looking at me as if I were a lunatic. Arching a high brow, he asked, “Are you serious?”

I flinched. “Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it? It looks like you’ve been out here for a while working on your boat. And it had to have taken the person with the cans hours to set them up like that. How were you not able to see who it was?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t been looking for a crazy person wandering about and leaving their soda cans behind. I’m working here. Or wasn’t that obvious to you?”

His tone was harsh. I backed up a little, less mighty now. “I just assumed you might have noticed something out of the ordinary.”

“Well, I didn’t. So why don’t you go down to the police station and report it since you’re so fired up about it?”

I paused for a moment to consider his advice, even as sarcastically intended as it may have been given. “Actually-- that’s a good idea.”

“Great. That’s just great, little girl. Run along, then. I’m busy.”

I didn’t like the way he said
little girl
. He reminded me of my grandmother. It didn’t bother me when my Miriam said it, but that was because I actually
was
a little girl compared to her fifty plus years of age, or however old she was. I wasn’t really sure of her age. I’d asked her once and she told me, “It’s none of your business, thank you very much.” So I dropped the subject. Anyway, Miriam was much older than Gabe.

For the first time ever, I think I was annoyed at someone for making me feel so young. It was ironic, because for so long I just wanted everyone to see me as a teenager. Maybe Miriam was right. Maybe I was losing too much weight. Maybe I was losing my curves. The idea didn’t thrill me as much anymore.

“My name is Lola,” I suddenly told him, feeling the need to point it out. “And we’re neighbors, by the way.”

He had turned his back to me again, already dismissing me from his presence. All he said was, “I know who you are.”

I started to turn away and leave, but then stopped and turned back again. “I wanted to say thank you to you and your brothers for coming to help me that night of the storm.”

“Strange type of thank you,” he said mockingly. “Sounded more like you were here to make accusations.”

“Yeah, well, sorry about that, too. . .I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

He didn’t say anything more. He just nodded. I had already begun walking away when I heard him say, “You’re welcome.” He’d said it so quietly, it was almost as if he hadn’t wanted me to hear him say it in the first place.

Gabe was such an odd person. An odd, beautiful and rude person. Admittedly, I was still intrigued by him. I really wished I wasn’t. For Annika’s sake, if nothing else. But I just couldn’t help it.

A few days later, I decided to walk to the local police station after school. Miriam gave me one of her old maps of the town so I would know how to get there. It was supposed to only be a few blocks west, but it felt like a
thousand
blocks west. And it didn’t help that the outside air felt like the inside of a sauna. It was mid-September, but it still felt like summer-- and
so
humid to boot.

I tried to keep in mind how much I prided myself on being able to easily adapt to any type of environment. I was a gypsy, and gypsy girls adapt to change, dammit. But this was hard to remember while I sweated in my ridiculous uniform. Why they forced us to wear thickly padded skirts and stockings in this heat and humidity was beyond me. Drenching with sweat, I realized the sun had clearly chosen me as its personal target.

Once at the station, I told an elderly woman at the front desk I would like to report a crime. She instructed me to sign in and take a seat in the waiting area. An icy, cold air vent was next to my seat. I practically clung to it, sighing in relief.

Ten minutes later, I was ushered by the same elderly woman into one of the offices in the back of the station. The detective was in the middle of eating a sandwich when I walked in. He set the food down and wiped his hands with his napkin before shaking my hand in greeting.

“Hello, young lady, I’m Detective Paco Vasquez. Sorry about the timing. I was just finishing my lunch.”

Detective Vasquez was a short and chubby Hispanic man with the bushiest mustache I’d ever seen. His mustache held remnants of his sandwich’s breadcrumbs. It made him look more like a cartoon character than a real life person.

I smiled. “That’s alright,” I said. “My name is Lola Moori. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

He nodded towards the chair in front of his desk.

“Please take a seat. I just need to grab a form and then we can get started.”

I waited patiently while he shuffled through papers in a large filing cabinet along the wall.

My eyes wandered around the room, observing the surroundings. I could tell the station was very laid back. There was a mellow atmosphere in the building, the walls painted in light blues and greens, and it seemed quieter than I’d anticipated. Not that I frequented many police stations. In fact, I usually tried to steer clear of them. Even so, I imagined this one was atypical. I suppose there wasn’t much crime that occurred in sleepy beach towns. Most of the officers even sported shorts as a part of their uniform. Detective Vasquez was even more casual. He wore a bright green polo shirt and khaki shorts with brown loafers. Whoever was responsible for the Frightwell and Black’s uniform seriously needed to get with the program-take a leaf from their police station’s book.

When the detective finally found the form he was looking for, he sat down at his desk and took out a pen. “Alright, please state what happened.”

I began to tell him about the mysterious can-culprit. I recounted every detail of each of the incidents. After a while, however, I couldn’t help but notice the detective’s blasé expression.

He looked bored.

I began to feel a little silly for even being here. It all felt very trivial now that I’d actually come to the police station and began describing what had happened. Detective Vasquez remained courteous, though. He simply asked me a few questions here and there about details such as the time of day and the location the cans had been placed in.

Another officer knocked on the glass window of Detective Vasquez’s door, interrupting my story. I was thankful to have been interrupted. This wasn’t going as well as I had expected.

“Come in,” he called out. He signaled to me to wait a moment.

“Hey, Paco. I need your report so I can finish up my paperwork.”

The voice triggered immediate recognition. I glanced up from where I was sitting.

“Patience is a virtue, Constantin. I’m still not through with it yet.”

I jerked my head up, almost falling out of my seat when I heard the name said aloud. “Are you kidding me?” I couldn’t help but cry out.

They both turned towards me now. As the man by the door began to recognize me, his expression turned into one of amusement.

“Well, hello there,” Gabe said with a note of innocence in his voice.

“You can go to hell,” was my surly reply. I grabbed my bag and stood to leave.

“Young lady, please watch your language,” Detective Vasquez admonished me, though he wasn’t menacing. He only seemed confused. “Do you two know each other?”

“We’re neighbors,” Gabe replied, still apparently amused, even though he could clearly see how upset I’d become. He’d made me the butt of some joke. And I couldn’t believe he’d let me come all the way down to the police station, not once mentioning the fact that he was an officer himself.