After Ever (3 page)

The inside of the car is cold, colder than it is outside, and I rummage through the animal crackers and slobbery pillows and puzzle games as quick as I can. When I find my walkman stuffed between the seat cushions I cram it, earphones and all, into the front pocket of sweatshirt. Just as I hit the button to relock the car the light posts go out, and the parking lot goes dark.

“Shit,” I curse, whirling around. Suddenly the front of the lodge seems a lot further away then it did twenty seconds ago. I feel my way around the front of the Volvo and stumble up over the curb, jarring my swollen ankle. The walkman slips out of my pocket and hits the ground with a clatter before skidding out of sight underneath the car.

“Shit!” I say again. The last thing I want to do is go crawling around in the snow, but I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t sleep without my music and I can’t listen to my music without my walkman.

“This is so going to suck,” I mutter as I drop to my hands and knees and peer under the car. It’s dark – obviously – but I think I can see the walkman resting right between the two front tires. Flattening out on my stomach I shimmy forward army style. When I’m halfway there I stretch out my arm as far as it will go, reaching blindly for the walkman.

“Looking for this?” a voice asks from behind me.

“SHIT!” I scream as my entire body jumps in reaction to being scared half to death. My head slams into the underbelly of the car and I hunch low, trying to get my breathing under control as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest.

“Is that the only swear word you know?” the stranger – I’m pretty sure it is a boy – asks curiously.

I need to get out from under the car. I consider backing up, which would have worked fine if I was alone, but there is no way I’m going to wiggle out ass first in front of someone I don’t know. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t care what people think about me, but in the dark and the snow and the wet even I have my limits. “Don’t move,” I manage to grunt. “I’m coming out.”

“Looking forward to it,” says the boy.

I half crawl/half belly slide the rest of the way under the car. Snow shoots down the inside of my sweatshirt and I have to bite my cheek to keep from squealing like a little girl. When I finally emerge from the other side of the car I brush myself off the best I can and march around to confront the guy with the seriously bad timing. But when I get a clear view of him, all I can think to say is, “Where did you
come
from?”

By the looks of the boy he isn’t that much older than me. Sixteen, seventeen at the most. His hair, neither blond nor brown but a mixture of the two, is cut short and neat. Black horn rimmed glasses sit high on the bridge of his nose. Studious gray eyes watch me through the clear lenses. He is tall, taller than me, broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip. He would have almost been cute, if not for…

“Are you wearing a sweat vest?” I ask incredulously.

“And penny loafers. The horror, right?” he says with a grin.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Aren’t you?” he asks, looking pointedly at my soaked sweatshirt.

Since the sweatshirt
is
beginning to freeze into a great big ice block of cotton, I have to nod. “A bit. So do you have my walkman or not?”

Wordlessly he holds the walkman out to me. I close the distance between us in two quick steps and take it out of his hand. The headphones are a bit bent, but otherwise it looks to be in good shape. I breathe a sigh of relief. To endure an entire week without my music would have been unbearable.

“That must have been pretty expensive,” says the boy, nodding towards the walkman.

“This?” I ask, holding it up. “No, not really. I got it on Ebay for like twenty bucks. The hardest part is finding tapes to go in it. A lot of the time I have to get them special ordered.”

“Ah.”

“So what were you doing out here? Are you some kind of creeper or something?” I ask bluntly.

The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you?” he counters.

“I was looking for my walkman.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I was looking for something too.”

Kind of cute, but definitely strange. “Well…” I glance past him to the front of the lodge. From here I can all but smell the pine and feel the warmth of the fire. I want to excuse myself, but I’m not sure how. A year ago I would have tossed my long blond hair and giggled my way inside but the new Winnie doesn’t remember how to do that anymore. “Uh, thanks for your help and everything,” I say lamely.

“You are welcome,” he says.

“Okay well, uh, goodnight.” I start towards the lobby, making sure to take an extra big step over the curb.

I don’t realize the boy is following me until I feel a faint pressure on my shoulder. My toes are frozen inside my sneakers and I can’t feel the end of my nose, but something compels me to stop and face him just shy of the front entrance. Here the lights have not been dimmed and I am able to see him more clearly. He looks… sincere, I decide. Earnest. Two emotions I am not used to associating with boys my age. It’s enough to peak my interest. “Do you need something?” I ask. 

“Not really,” he says. “Are you staying here?”

“No, I’m just wandering around the parking lot of the resort I’m
not
staying in.”

“You’re kind of rude,” the boy observes.

“Sorry.” The apology catches me by surprise. ‘Sorry’ is not a word I use very often. “It’s been a long day and yes, I am staying here. With my dad and my brother.” There really isn’t any need to mention Girlfriend #3, so I don’t.

“That’s nice. I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Trent.”

“Winnifred.” I extend my hand automatically. It is an unusual habit for someone my age and usually I’m met with strange stares, but Sam just places his right hand in mine as if it is the most natural thing in the world and we shake briskly.

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I guess you’re staying here too?”

He shakes his head. “No, not really. Well I guess you could say I am. Kind of. Just for a little bit though.”

Okay then. “Well, it was nice to meet you Sam. Maybe I’ll see you around.” The doors to the lobby slide apart with a quiet
whoosh
when I get within two feet of them. Warm air blows in my face, defrosting my nose and bringing feeling back to my toes. I take a few steps inside. Hesitate. Turn halfway around. “Aren’t you coming in?” I ask Sam curiously.

He is still standing outside. His thumbs are hooked casually in the waistband of his trousers and he has a vacant expression on his face. When I speak he startles slightly, as if he forgot I was there, and a slow smile curves his lips. “In a little bit. I’m waiting for someone,” he says.

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait inside where it isn’t negative ten?”

“I’m fine out here, but thank you for asking.”

For some reason I feel oddly insulted that he won’t come into the lobby with me. “Whatever. Have fun out in the cold weirdo.”

If Sam is put off by my insult, it doesn’t show. “It was nice to meet you Winnifred.”

“Whatever,” I repeat. Spinning on my heel, I stalk away from sweater vest Sam.  

Brian is sound asleep with the covers pulled halfway up over his head by the time I get back to our room. I pull off my wet clothes and slip into a long t-shirt with a pink bunny on the front. The batteries in my walkman need to be changed and I switch them out with new ones before I hit all the lights and climb in bed.

The sheets smell of pine, just like everything else around here, but I don’t mind. Better pine than the smell of the parking lot. I switch the Adele tape to the other side and snuggle down into covers as she begins to belt out her latest hit. My eyes are just about to drift close when something on the nightstand catches my attention.

I sit bolt upright, clutching my walkman to my chest to prevent it from suffering another fall, and stare hard at the red digital numbers on the alarm clock.

11:47PM.

That can’t be right. I left just before final Jeopardy. I couldn’t have been outside for almost four hours. Maybe forty five minutes at the most. Annoyed, I realize the clock must be off. The hotel really should know better. What if I had to get up at six in the morning and set the alarm without checking the time first? I consider trying to reset it myself, but I’ve never been good with technology which explains my lack of a cell phone and the old fashioned walkman.

Deciding to ignore the clock, I roll over onto my side and force my eyes to shut. If I’m going to fight it out with Girlfriend #3 tomorrow I need to be on my A game. Any display of weakness and she’ll go for the jugular just like any other well trained predator. 

I wake up to fifty pounds of little boy jumping on my chest.

“WinnieWinnieWinnie! Wakeup! Wakeup! Wakeup!” Brian chants, punctuating each word with a bounce.

Groaning, I flop to my stomach and drag a pillow over my head. With the agility of a monkey Brian rolls with me, his short arms and legs flailing.

“Whooooaaaa,” he giggles. “Get UP Winnie! It’s time for breakfast and I’m STARVING!”

“Ugh,” I reply. Opening one eye I watch Brian make a wild leap from my bed to his. He lands on his feet and begins to bounce, stretching his fingertips towards the ceiling.

“D’you think they’ll have donuts? I love donuts. And hot chocolate. You forgot my hot chocolate last night. Winnie! Winnie? Are you up? WAKE UP!”

“Ugh.” I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person and having a five year old demon for a brother doesn’t exactly help the situation.

Dragging the comforter off the bed and I wrap it around my shoulders and slink into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I let the comforter drop to the floor before I brush my teeth and wash my face. Once I would have spent over an hour in the bathroom applying teeth whitener, painstakingly straightening every strand of hair, and worrying over any new zits. Now I just pull my hair back from my face with an old scrunchie and ignore the little pimple forming on my chin.

When my teeth are minty fresh and my face is tingling, I pull out my makeup bag from the cabinet under the sink and stare into it, silently considering the black tubes of lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. I was never big on makeup before. Probably because my mom wasn’t either. I wonder what she would say if she could see her daughter now.

Winnifred Coleman! You scrape all that dark crap off your face and throw it away. You know better than that. And while you’re at it take out those piercings too. An eyebrow and a nose
and
a lip piercing? What are you doing, going for the trifecta? This is not a horse race young lady.

What about freedom of expression, Mom?

Feel free to express yourself without makeup and holes in your face.

Well guess what, you’re not here anymore. So I’ll do whatever I want.

With my mom’s voice still echoing in my ear I smear the liner on, circling it around and around my eyelids until I get the desired effect. Shadow comes next, then mascara. I skip the lipstick only because I’m going to be eating soon and it tastes disgusting. I leave my lip ring out for the same reason – plus it tends to collect bits of food which is totally gross – and exchange the hoop in my left eyebrow for a little diamond.

Brian is still bouncing on the bed when I finally emerge from the bathroom.

“Get down and get dressed,” I say with a yawn. He does a cannonball off the edge of the bed and rolls to his feet, his brown hair sticking out in all sorts of directions.

“That was fun! You have to try it Winnie.”

“Jumping on the bed? No thanks.”

He makes a little humming noise in his throat and trots over to me. I help him pick out clothes – a red long sleeved shirt with Goofy on the front, jeans, and white Velcro sneakers because he still can’t tie his own shoelaces – before I get dressed myself.

“How come you don’t wear what you used to?” Brian. His eyes travel up and down my body in a disapproving sweep. “All you wear is black. It’s ugly. You look like a turd.”

I not only tolerate Brian’s criticism, I welcome it. He is still young enough to be completely honest, a trait adults seem to lose the same day they turn eighteen. “I like the color black,” I say.

“You didn’t used to.”

“Yeah, well, I do now.”

“’Cause Mom died.”

My skin goes clammy. I have to swallow twice to get the lump past my throat. Brian watches me closely, waiting for my reaction. His blue eyes are too wide for his round face. I look past him, to the white wall behind his head with the picture of lupines hanging on it. I would like to see lupines in real life. They look so beautiful. So vibrant. But the only time we come to Maine is during the winter and they’re dead by then. Every last one of them.

“Let’s go down to breakfast,” I say at last.

Brian’s face crumples. “Winnie, I –”

 “Come on.” I snatch up the room key I left sitting on top of the television and hit the lights. The room dims, throwing everything into shadow. Brian follows me out to the hall. I can hear the quiet sucking of his mouth as he chews on his fingers and for the first time in a long time I just let him do it.

My dad and Girlfriend #3 are already sitting in the dining room by the time we get downstairs. They have plates of food in front of them but the only thing my dad has touched is his coffee. Interesting.

“Good morning!” I call out brightly. My dad’s head lifts automatically at the sound of my voice and not for the first time I am struck by how much he has aged in the past year. His skin is pale and wrinkled. Shadows linger under his eyes. He has lost weight, so much so that his green sweater and khakis hang off of him. He is a shell of his former self, both inside and out. And everyone says
I’m
the one who has changed.

Girlfriend #3, on the other hand, fairly sparkles with good health. The brightness of her neon pink ski suit is almost blinding and I have to avert my eyes when I take the seat next to hers. Brian squirms in beside my dad and earns a light noogie for his efforts.