What If (18 page)

“I… talk.” She smiles at me over her shoulder, typing on the computer.

I put the headset on when she does and hear a phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Marla. It’s Lynn. How are you today?”

“Oh, it’s
Friday Lynn
. I’m doing okay, sweetie.”

“How’s Roger feeling? Has he started physical therapy yet?”

“He was finally able to get out of bed on Monday. So he starts next week.”

“That’s so great! How are Heath and Allie?”

“A pain in my ass.” Marla laughs. “But that’s their job, right? And before you say anything, I sent in a payment yesterday. I swear.”

“Oh, only if you can afford it. Don’t you dare send these doctors any money if your kids need anything. The doctors aren’t starving. I promise you that.”

Marla laughs. “I know. You’re too sweet. But it’s okay this week.”

“Well, I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

“Bye.”

Then the line is disconnected. Nyelle spins in her chair with a grin.

For a moment all I can do is stare. Every time I’m with Nyelle, I realize how much I don’t know about her. And… how much I want to

“You’re supposed to be collecting
money
,” Keith hollers from over the cubicle wall.

“He’s by the book,” Nyelle explains with a roll of her eyes. Then she says in a whisper, “But I hit the call quota, and I guarantee I bring in more money than he does, even when I tell my people they don’t have to pay.”

I laugh.

I listen to her
talk
for the next few hours. Every person she calls loves her. They tell her about their kids. Their parents. How hard their lives are. Or about a new job or classes they’re taking. It’s almost never about money, or paying the bill they owe. And she’s so patient with them, genuinely invested in their lives.

At seven thirty, she wraps the cords around the headsets and puts them in a drawer. “Now we get paid.”

“By Lynn?” I ask as we walk out of the cubicle. Keith is already gone.

“On Fridays, she’s Jasmine,” Nyelle says, pushing through the glass door. “She works at Starlight on Mondays and Fridays, but she doesn’t want her husband to know. I help her keep her minimum-wage job so she can make enough cash to put herself through college.”

“She’s a stripper?”

“She’s a
student
,” Nyelle corrects me, getting into the truck. “She just happens to have a killer body, and guys are stupid enough to give her money to look at it.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, guys are dumb like that.” Then it hits me. “Wait. Are
we
going to Starlight… now?”

“You can stay in the truck if it makes you uncomfortable,” Nyelle says with a smirk. “But I thought we could eat. They seriously make the best burgers in town.”

“We’re going to have dinner at a strip club,” I say, more to myself than to Nyelle. “O-kay.”

*     *     *

I’ve never been to Starlight. It’s on the other side of town, away from campus. I know it exists, because I hear the guys talk about it. I’ve just never been… tempted.

The small, black building doesn’t look like much. I wouldn’t even know this was the place except for
Starlight
painted across the side in some sort of script, the “i” dotted with a star. There aren’t a lot of cars in the icy dirt parking lot when we pull in.

Nyelle strides through the entrance, immune to the surroundings, heading directly to the bar. I pause inside the heavy metal door, taking in the dark club, which pulses with light as a strobe light flashes onstage. A pole extends to the ceiling in the center of a runway off the main stage. And upside down on that pole are legs… long legs.

Nyelle pulls my jacket before I can follow those legs down to a face. I blink out of the fog-induced haze and sit on a stool at the bar.

“Hey, Jimmy,” Nyelle says with a smile, sliding out of her jacket and setting it on the stool.

“How are ya, Nyelle?” Jimmy is a muscled guy in a tight black T-shirt, his black hair slicked back. And he’s way too tan for winter in upstate New York. “Your regular?”

“Yes, please. Can you make it two?” Nyelle nods toward me.

“How do you want it cooked?” he asks, staring me down.

“Uh, medium-rare, thanks,” I say, trying not to look around, but it’s fricken hard.

“Cal?”

Nyelle and I slowly turn on our stools. There’s a blonde with big, wavy hair down her back, wearing a ton of glittery makeup and not much else.

It takes me a minute to place her. She doesn’t look like anyone I know, dressed in a sparkling black string bikini top and supershort cutoffs. Then I see the butterfly tattoo above her hip bone. “Micha?”

Her glossy, pink lips widen into a smile. “How are you? Omigod, I never would have thought I’d see you
here
.”

“Uh, I’m getting dinner?” It sounds more like a question, because I know it’s a strange thing to say at a strip club.

“You know Micha?” Nyelle says with an amused laugh. “Of course you do.”

“Yeah, we dated for like… three weeks?” Micha says, looking to me for affirmation. I nod with a quick shrug. “Oh, so you’re here with Nyelle?” She sounds surprised.

“Hey, Nyelle. I’ll let Jasmine know you’re here,” she says, setting her tray on the bar next to me. “I’ll be back for those drinks in a second, Jimmy.”

Then she saunters off in the tallest heels I’ve ever seen.

“How does she walk in those?” I ask.

“Are you looking at her shoes or her shorts?” Nyelle asks. I glance up, and the side of my mouth quirks up, because the shorts cover less than most bathing suits.

“That too,” I say. Nyelle swats my arm. “What? I hadn’t even noticed until you mentioned them.”

“You dated Micha,” Nyelle says with a shake of her head.

“I didn’t know she was a stripper,” I tell her.

“She’s not. She’s a cocktail waitress,” Nyelle explains. “And would it have mattered if she was?”

I pause for a second, scanning the scattered crowd sitting in the dark, focused on the bodies being flaunted in front of them. There’s no way I would be comfortable letting these guys watch a girl I was dating dance naked.

“Yeah, it would.”

“How many girls have you walked away from, Cal?” Nyelle asks me.

“Uh… What?” If the lights were on, my face would be bright red.

“Twenty?”

“No! Not that many,” I say, wiping the sweat off my palms. “Why does it matter?”

“Just curious,” Nyelle says with a tilted smile. “And you walked away from all of them?’

“Sometimes they’re the ones walking away,” I tell her, uncomfortable with the judgment.

“And you let them?” When I don’t answer, she asks, “Why?”

I look behind Nyelle at a tall black woman with flowing dark hair hanging to her waist. She’s slender but with the definition of an athlete.

Nyelle turns to see who has my attention.

“Hey, Jasmine,” Nyelle greets her happily. “This is Cal.”

“Hi,” I say, now understanding how she makes enough money here to put herself through school.

She looks me up and down without a word, and just nods.

“Cute boy-next-door type,” she says to Nyelle, handing her a hundred-dollar bill. “Rusty wanted me to tell you the offer still stands. I told him you were leaving town, but he’s stubborn.”

“That’s so nice of him,” Nyelle says with a small laugh. “But it would be embarrassing for everyone involved if I got on that stage.”

“Had to ask.” Jasmine returns her attention to me. Her tone is low and almost threatening. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Cal’s not the strip club kind of guy,” Micha says with a wink, appearing beside me. She picks up the tray of drinks, and I almost jump off the stool when I feel something slide into my back pocket as she passes behind me. I watch her walk away, unable to move. What was that about?

Whatever it was, I’m not about to reach into my pocket to find out, especially when I look back at Jasmine, who has her arms folded in front of her and her eyebrow cocked.

“Nyelle, what are you doing with this guy? Do you trust him?”

Jasmine’s accusatory tone instills instant guilt—even though I haven’t done anything wrong.

Nyelle examines me like she needs to think it over. I’m suddenly afraid that if she doesn’t say yes, Jasmine’s going to kick my ass.

“I’m living with him,” Nyelle answers. I blink, hard. “And yes, I trust him.”

I don’t hear what Jasmine says before she struts away. I don’t hear what Nyelle says in response. I don’t even notice when the burgers are set in front of us.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nyelle asks, about to pick up her burger.

I tuck my hand around the back of her neck and pull her to me, kissing her. She presses her hands on my chest, kissing me back. When we part, she’s breathless and flushed.

“What was that for?” she asks.

“You trust me,” I reply, grinning.

August—Before Eighth Grade

“What do you mean you’re moving?” I say, hoping I didn’t hear her right.

“We’re moving to San Francisco,” Richelle says, sitting on my bed. Her eyes are red from crying.

“When?” I ask. My throat tightens and tears flood my eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

“No!” I shoot back, shaking my head. “No. You can’t. You can’t leave, Richelle.”

Tears are leaking out of her eyes.

“Why tomorrow? I don’t understand. Why so fast?”

Richelle shrugs. “My dad has a new job. And… my mom wants to move now. She says… we have to.”

This doesn’t feel right. It’s too fast.

“Did you tell Cal? Or Rae?”

Her face twists, and she’s crying into her hands, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Why? You have to tell them. They’re our best friends.”

“It hurts so much just telling you. I can’t say good-bye to them. Especially Cal. I just… can’t.”

“You’re just going to leave?”

“I wrote him a letter. I was hoping you could give it to him after I’m gone.”

I have no idea how I’ve restrained myself the past four days, waking up next to her. Nyelle insists that I sleep in my bed… with her. She says she trusts me. “I trust you.” The same words I wanted her say are now the worst words in existence. Those words are a concrete wall dividing my bed in half, with me on one side, balled up tight to keep from busting it down. And Nyelle on the other, rolling around, occasionally flopping an arm or leg on my side so our skin touches. She doesn’t seem to give a shit about the wall. But I do. “I trust you.” She might as well have castrated me.

And then every day I receive a call or a text from Rae, demanding progress. Like now that Nyelle is staying with me, she’ll suddenly open up and tell me all her secrets. If anything, she’s even more evasive. Speaking in her cryptic sentences with their unknown meanings. Having conversations with her about anything that pertains to her life is like playing dyslexic Scrabble.

When she kisses me, I’m not concerned with who she used to be. Only that she’s the one kissing me now. I live to feel those lips. I’d like to feel more, but I’m letting her pace us. I don’t want to move faster than she’s willing.

Each time we connect, I’m combustible. The fire from the touch of her burns up every inch of my body. Whenever I think we’re about to take it further, she stops. Without warning. She gets up and walks away. I have no time to calm down. She should just go ahead and dump a tray of ice cubes down the front of my pants.

I refuse to believe she’s torturing me on purpose. The right thing to do would be to talk to her about us. Where this is going. What we want out of this. But when it comes to girls, I have yet to do the right thing. Just because I’m actually invested doesn’t make communicating easier.

There’s a reason Rae’s my best friend. She talks through her drums. I just… don’t talk.

“Where are you going today?” I ask Nyelle as she slides on her jacket. She’s about to disappear, as she does every so often without notice. Even though she’s staying with me, it’s hard to watch her walk out that door.

“Want to come with me?”

Jumping off the couch, I grab my jacket. “Sure.”

I always say yes whenever she invites me. I never know what I’m agreeing to, but whatever it is, it’s always unexpected.

Sunday, Nyelle said she wanted to play pinball. So we played pinball… all afternoon at an arcade that only the local gamers seem to know about. It’s old, dark, and smells like stale fries and mildew. Not the best combination. But the place houses every old-school video game in existence. I had blisters on my fingers when we left.

Yesterday, she bought thirty latex balloons filled with helium and tied the message “You are loved” to each string. Then we drove out to the abandoned farm and stood in the middle of the snowy field to release them.

Just before we set them loose into the world, I asked, “Is this on your list?”

“Sorta.”

I waited, knowing there was more.

“What’s actually written on the list is: Relive the happiest day of your life.”

I looked up at the cloud of colorful balloons. “You’ve done this before?”

“No.” She smiled brightly and shook her head. Then she let them float away into the overcast winter sky, blasting color where there wasn’t any before. “But now I’ll get to do it again sometime.”

I laughed. Then I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. A moment like that deserved a kiss at the end of it, and so I made sure to give it the best ending possible. I continued to kiss her as the colored dots floated away above our heads.

So, today, I don’t know where she’s taking me. And I’m okay with that. No expectations. Because I know Nyelle is beyond every expectation I could ever have.

“Where to today?” I ask, starting the truck.

“We need to go to Elaine’s first,” Nyelle tells me, sliding in close beside me.

“And then?” I prompt.

“And then… we’re going to make the world a little more happy.” She bounces up on the seat, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

There never seems to be an answer in her answers.

After retrieving several bags of what appear to be the materials to construct a spaceship from Elaine’s, Nyelle gets in the driver’s side. She doesn’t even ask. And I don’t bother arguing. She obviously doesn’t want me to know where we’re going until we get there. But the last place I expect to arrive is the children’s hospital.

Crenshaw has a reputable medical school, and people come from all over to be seen at the hospitals. I’ve heard they have some cutting-edge studies. It’s one of the reasons students attend the university.

It’s not my reason.

I’m trying to prepare myself for whatever we’re about to do, following Nyelle down the halls of the hospital. But there’s really no way to prepare for this. It’s not like stretching before a race.

“They’re just kids,” Nyelle says, pulling me out of my head. She looks me over and produces a reassuring smile.

“That obvious?” I ask.

“You look a little pale,” she notes, reaching for my hand as the elevator dings. “We need to help them remember.”

“Remember what?” I ask, letting her lead me down the corridor.

“That they’re kids. No matter what they’re going through, they’re still kids.”

I look at the shimmer in her eyes and nod. I don’t
not
like kids. I’m just never around them, except for the few times a year that my family gets together.

I take a deep breath and squeeze Nyelle’s hand. How bad can this be, really? It can’t be worse than meeting a girl’s parents.

We cut down another corridor, and Nyelle reaches for a glass door with
The Shea Clinic: Outpatient Services
printed across it. She holds it open for me. I’m bombarded with noise when we cross the threshold—kids talking and laughing, babies crying, video games beeping and the voices of characters broadcasting from a television.

“Hi, Maddie,” Nyelle says to the woman behind the reception desk in a medical coat covered in smiling snowflakes.

“Hi, Nyelle,” Maddie replies pleasantly, glancing past her to me. I act like I’m supposed to be here, faking the confidence. From the concerned look on her face, I know she sees right through it. It could be the beads of sweat across my forehead.

“Nyelle!” A woman with cropped red hair appears behind the desk. “I’m so happy you’re here. The kids were starting to ask for you.”

“Hi, Rose,” Nyelle says. “Rose, this is Cal. The guy I told you was going to help out today since Elaine couldn’t make it.”

“Of course! Welcome, Cal,” she says to me. “I just have a few forms for you to fill out and I need to make a copy of your ID.”

“Sure,” I respond, giving Nyelle a quick questioning look. I pull out my ID for Rose, and she walks into a back office area.

“Elaine used to be a nurse here,” Nyelle explains. It’s not exactly what I wanted to know. “Now she volunteers once a week. I’ve been coming with her for the last two months.”

“Okay,” I respond. “What exactly are we doing, Nyelle?”

“Here you go,” Rose says, handing me a clipboard before I receive an answer. “And these are your volunteer badges. As soon as you’re done with the papers, hand them to Maddie and you’re all set. Thank you so much for being here today!”

“Not a problem,” I answer, still not certain what I’m volunteering for.

An ear-piercing scream suddenly erupts from a room down the hallway, and my entire body goes rigid.

“Kids don’t like needles,” Maddie tells me when she notices my wide eyes.

“Neither do I,” I reply, feeling the blood drain from my face, hoping I’m going nowhere near wherever that kid is.

“I’ll be right over there,” Nyelle informs me, pointing to the far corner of the open space, where a large table is surrounded by plastic chairs. I nod.

“Nyelle!” I hear a bunch of young voices cheer as she approaches.

I sign the last form and hand the clipboard back to Maddie. “Thanks.”

I walk through the waiting area where parents are reading and talking and past the boys at the gaming console. I stop a few yards away from the table, watching Nyelle spread out what looks like art supplies.

“They can smell fear,” a nurse says from behind me, spinning me around.

I swallow.

Nyelle looks over her shoulder. “You coming?”

I cautiously approach, feeling like a trespasser. And from the strange looks I’m receiving, they must see me as one too.

Nyelle takes my hand and eases me toward the table. “They don’t bite… usually.”

Someone laughs. I glance over my shoulder at a father with a little boy on his lap. He looks down, trying to hide his smile. That didn’t help.

“Who are you?” I find a small girl missing her two front teeth and wearing a colorful scarf wrapped around her bald head peering up at me. She’s holding on to a metal pole with a machine pumping clear liquid down a tube that’s hidden underneath her pink sweater.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m intimidated by a little girl. Not cool.

“This is Cal,” Nyelle tells her. “He’s a little shy.” She grins at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Hi,” I finally say. “Who are you?”

“Tally,” she says. “I’m six.”

“What are we making today?” a boy with a head full of dark curls asks, leaning over the table and picking up a pink flower with a worried expression. He’s not hooked up to a machine. “Not girl stuff. I’ll puke.”

“We’re making these.” Nyelle pulls a sword out of the bag. The blade is wrapped with tinfoil, and the hilt is decorated with plastic flowers. Heart stickers run the length of the blade. “Don’t worry, Jacob. You can design yours however you want. You don’t have to use the flowers. Unless you want to.” She smiles at him.

“Ew!” he exclaims. He reminds me of Rae as a kid, making me laugh.

“Do you have anything for princesses?” a girl with the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen asks. Her little bald head only makes her round eyes that much bigger.

“Princesses can have swords,” Nyelle says, sitting in a blue chair next to her.

The girl looks confused. “But then what about the prince?” She looks up at me. My eyes widen. “Doesn’t he need a sword to rescue you?”

Nyelle laughs. “I don’t need any rescuing. And neither do you. That’s why you get to make your own sword, so you can fight for yourself. Maybe we’ll have to rescue
him
.” Nyelle leans in and whispers, “I think you look like you could slay a dragon all by yourself. Him… not so much.”

The girl glances at me and giggles.

Something is pulling at my pants. I look down. There’s a small boy wearing a baseball hat staring at me. A machine is beeping next to him. I kneel down.

“My mom says I’m not supposed to play with guns or swords,” he tells me in a low voice.

I pause, looking to Nyelle to bail me out. But she’s working with the blue-eyed girl. “Um… I guess we’ll just have to make you a shield then, huh?”

The boy smiles and nods.

We spend the next several hours helping construct shields and swords. The kids are pretty funny. And they don’t care that I have no idea what I’m doing.

“That’s a pretty cool flame sword,” I tell Jacob, helping him wrap the handle in black electrical tape

“I know it is,” he brags, taking it from me and thrusting it into the air.

“I didn’t know you were artistic,” Nyelle says, as I help a boy make his sword look like a road with trucks driving on it.

“I’m not,” I respond quietly, so the boy doesn’t overhear. “But they’re not that critical.”

Nyelle nods toward the girl with the big blue eyes, who’s been sitting next to me the entire time. She’s strategically placing heart stickers on her rainbow sword. “I think Isabel has a crush on you.”

When I look over at the girl, her face lights up with a bashful smile.

“Yeah, I think she’s got me,” I lean over and whisper to Nyelle. “It’s the blue eyes—they make me weak.” Nyelle’s cheeks flush.

Isabel approaches me while I’m picking up the last of the stickers, getting ready to leave. I squat down so I’m closer to her size. She holds her hand up to my ear and whispers, “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll rescue you.”

“Thanks,” I whisper back. She places a heart sticker on my hand and rushes away. I look down at it with a smile.

I watch Nyelle give hugs and high fives before we go. The happiness that she brought into their world is etched on their faces. Despite everything they’re going through, they’re still just kids. And regardless of what she went through to be here, she shouldn’t be anywhere else.

“Kids aren’t so bad. Well, at least these kids aren’t,” I admit while we’re walking to the truck.

Nyelle laughs. “These kids are
amazing
.”

When we get to the truck, I turn toward her, pulling her to me with my hands on her waist.

“So it there anything else?”

Nyelle eyes me curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see… You voluntarily walk the sketchiest streets in Crenshaw to make sure a homeless man doesn’t freeze to death. You help little kids fight their dragons. You tutor a stripper…” I quickly correct myself when Nyelle glares at me. “I mean, student in biology, while
not
collecting money and attend classes at a university you’re not enrolled in. Oh yeah, and in your free time, you roll down hills, climb trees and punch assholes in the face. You make sure every day is all about having fun. Am I missing something?”

“Um… that sounds about right,” Nyelle replies with a grin.

“So what else is on this list you haven’t done?” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me.

She stiffens.

“Nyelle?” I ask when she pushes away. “What’s wrong?”

She turns from me in attempt to hide her glistening eyes.

“Hey. What’s going on?” I have no idea what just happened.

Nyelle doesn’t say anything. Just presses her lips tight and walks to the other side of the truck.

“Did I say something wrong?” I think over everything I said, but I can’t figure out what caused her to pull away from me.

“Can we get some ice cream?” Nyelle asks before slipping into the truck.

I get in and close the door. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”