Along for the Ride (10 page)

‘Yeah,’ I said. She swung the door shut, pulling out the safe key. ‘I’ll, um, be out in a sec.’

‘All right.’

When she left, I turned back to my calculator, starting to add again. Halfway down the row of numbers, though, I stopped and sat as still as I could, listening hard to see if the conversation would double back to where it had been before. When it didn’t, I bent back over my numbers, punching them in slowly this time, one by one by one, so as not to make the same mistake again.

By midnight, I’d already walked the boardwalk and driven a full loop of Colby proper, and still had a few hours before I even wanted to think about going home. Clearly, I needed coffee. So I headed to the Gas/Gro.

I had just parked and was digging in my ashtray for change when I heard an engine zooming up behind me. When I looked up, a beat-up green truck was pulling in a few spaces down. Even before I saw the bikes piled in the back I recognized the short, stocky guy behind the wheel, and Adam, Maggie’s friend, beside him. They cut the engine and hopped out, going inside. After a moment, I followed them.

The Gas/Gro was small but clean, with neat aisles and not too bright lighting. I went straight to the full-strength GroRoast, as was my habit, pulling out the biggest cup and filling it up. Adam and his friend were at the other end of the store, by the coolers, where they grabbed drinks before proceeding to the candy aisle.

‘Goobers,’ Adam was saying as I added a bit of cream to my cup. ‘Twizzlers. And… let me see. Maybe Junior Mints?’

‘You know,’ his friend said, ‘you don’t have to name each item out loud.’

‘It’s my process, okay? I make better decisions when I vocalize as I do it.’

‘Well, it’s annoying. At least do it quietly.’

I put a lid on my cup, making sure it was secure, then started for the register, where a heavyset woman was buying some lottery tickets. A moment later, they stepped up behind me. I could see them in the mirrored reflection of the cigarette ad over our heads.

‘One fourteen,’ the clerk said, ringing me up.

I slid my exact change over, then reached for my cup. As I turned, Adam said, ‘Hey, I thought you looked familiar! You, um… work at Clementine’s, right?’

I knew that um. It was obvious my one night of bad judgment had branded me as The Girl Who Hooked up with Jake, although Adam was nice enough to not say this, at least to my face. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I do.’

‘Adam,’ he said, pointing to himself. ‘And this is Wallace.’

‘Auden,’ I told him.

‘Look at that,’ Adam said, nudging him. ‘She bought a single cup of coffee. Such restraint!’

‘No kidding,’ Wallace said as they dumped their collective items onto the counter. ‘Who can come to the Gas/Gro and only buy one thing?’

‘Well,’ Adam said as the clerk began ringing things up, ‘she’s not from here.’

‘This is true.’ Wallace glanced at me. ‘No offense, of course. It’s just that we’re –’

‘Store-goers,’ I finished for him, without even thinking. He looked surprised, then exchanged a smile with Adam. ‘Exactly.’

‘That’ll be fifteen eighty-five,’ the clerk said, and as they dug in their pockets, pulling out crumpled bills, I took the opportunity to slip out, back to my car. A moment later, they emerged, each carrying a bag, and climbed into the truck. I watched them back out, their lights moving across me as they pulled away.

I sat there and drank my coffee for a little while, considering my options. There was always the all-night diner. Or another loop around Colby. I glanced at my watch: only 12:15. So many hours to fill, and so little to do it with. Maybe it was for this reason that I found myself pulling out, turning in the direction they’d gone. Not looking for Bigfoot, necessarily. Just something.

• • •

It wasn’t hard to find the jump park. All you had to do was follow the bikes.

They were everywhere. Crowding the narrow sidewalks, on racks on the backs of cars, or sticking up from rails on the roof. I stuck close to an old Volkswagen van with a bright orange one hanging off it, following as it turned into a big lot two or three streets away from the beach. As I parked, I could see some bleachers bordered by two huge lights, which were shining down on a row of jumps, ramps made out of logs, and sand. Every once in a while, you’d see someone on a bike rise up above the sight line, suspended in midair for just a moment before disappearing again.

There was also an oval track made up of various types of berms, which some people were circling, and down from that, two large, curved ramps facing each other. I sat in my car for a moment, watching someone in a black helmet ride down one side, then up the other, back and forth, mesmerized, as if someone were swinging a watch on a chain before my eyes. Then someone slammed the door on the Volkswagen, jerking me back to attention.

I was not sure what I was doing there. It wasn’t like it was exactly my scene or crowd. The bleachers were filled with girls who were probably busy comparing lip glosses and mooning over the guys as they rode below them. Further proof: as I looked closer, I spotted Maggie sitting a few rows up, in pink, naturally. I hadn’t looked closely enough to see if Jake was one of the guys currently moving through the jumps, but then again, I probably didn’t need to.

I sat back, picking up my cup of coffee and taking a sip. Cars were still pulling in and parking, and occasionally people would pass by my car, their voices rising overhead. Each time, I felt more self-conscious, reaching for my keys to crank the engine and get out of there. But then they’d move on, and I’d let my hand drop. After all, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. And at least this way I wasn’t wasting gas.

‘Yo!’ I heard someone yell suddenly from somewhere to my right. ‘Pretty girl!

Where’s the party at?’

I recognized Jake’s voice instantly. Sure enough, when I turned, I spotted him one row over and two down, leaning against a silver sedan. He had on jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt, the tails of which were flapping in the breeze as he took a sip of something in the blue plastic cup in his hand. It took me a minute before I realized he hadn’t even been speaking to me but to a tall blonde who was walking a few rows down, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. She glanced up at him, smiling shyly, and kept walking. A moment later, he was catching up with her just a couple of cars in front of me.

Crap, I thought, watching as he flashed her that wide smile. Leaving right then would have attracted way too much attention, but it wasn’t like I wanted to sit and watch my biggest mistake in recent memory play out before me either. I considered my options a moment, then carefully opened my door, sliding my feet onto the gravel. I eased it shut, ducking down as I rounded the car beside me, then put another, and yet another between us.

Due to my zigzag escape, I ended up in an area off to the left of the jump park, where there were only a couple of bike racks and a few straggly trees. It was just out of the reach of the bright lights by the bleachers, so I could see everything without being spotted. In other words, perfect.

I leaned against a bike rack as I watched people move through the line of jumps. At first glance, each rider looked the same, but with further study I realized everyone was going at different speeds on their approach, and some stayed closer to the ground, cautious, while others rose up high, then higher still on the next. Occasionally there’d be a smatter of applause or some hooting from the bleachers, but otherwise it was strangely quiet, just the sound of tires on gravel, broken up by moments of silence as they went airborne.

After a while, I spotted Adam and Wallace, sitting on their bikes, helmets off, where people were lining up for the jumps. Wallace was eating Pringles, while Adam was looking up at the bleachers, gesturing for someone there to come join them. Following his gaze, I found Maggie again, still alone, still staring down at the ramps. You can keep looking, I wanted to tell her, but most likely, he’s under those bleachers, not in front of them. Stupid girl.

Just as I thought this, she stood suddenly, like she’d heard me. I watched as she reached up, pulling her dark curls back at the base of her neck, then twisted an elastic around them. She reached into the bag beside her and pulled out a helmet, grabbing it by the strap and starting down the bleachers to the boys waiting below.

I had to admit I was surprised. What I saw next, though, left me stunned: when she got to Adam, he hopped off his bike, offering it to her, and she climbed on, pulling the helmet over her head. He said something to her, and she nodded, then pushed back slowly, flexing her fingers over the ends of the handlebars. When she was about twenty feet back, she rose up on the pedals for a moment, squaring her shoulders, and started toward the jumps.

She hit the first one at moderate speed, kicking up a bit of dust, gaining even more momentum as she approached, then cleared the next. By the third, she was rising up really high, shoulders hunched, the bike seeming to float beneath her. Even from my limited experience, I could tell she was good: she hit the jumps squarely, and her landings were smooth, not clumsy like some of the other riders I’d seen. It seemed to take her no time or effort at all to do the entire set of them, and then she was circling back to where the boys were waiting. Wallace offered her a Pringle, and she took it, flipping up the visor of her helmet to pop it in her mouth.

I was so busy watching this that at first, I didn’t see the figure that had appeared off to my right, so it took a second to realize it was Eli. His hair was loose over his shoulders, and he had on jeans and a green long-sleeved T-shirt. Unfortunately, by the time I processed all this, I’d been staring at him long enough for him to notice. He turned and looked right at me, and I nodded at him in reply, in what I hoped seemed like a casual way.

He nodded back, sliding his hands in his pockets, and I thought of what Esther, Leah, and Maggie had been talking about earlier that day, how he did or didn’t ride anymore, and the reasons, or person, behind that choice. Not that it was any of my business. I was leaving anyway.

I started toward my car, which meant I had to walk right by him. As I got closer, he glanced up at me again. ‘Already leaving,’ he said in that flat voice I recognized. ‘Not exciting enough for you?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Just… I have somewhere I have to be.’

‘Busy times,’ he said.

‘That’s right.’

I didn’t pretend to know Eli at all, but even so, I’d noticed that his manner was slightly hard to read. It was something in the way he talked that made it difficult to tell whether he was kidding or serious or what. This bothered me. Or intrigued me. Or both.

‘So,’ I said after a moment, figuring I had nothing to lose in asking, ‘do you jump?’

‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘You?’

I almost laughed, then thought of Maggie and realized this maybe was not a joke. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t even… I mean, I haven’t ridden a bike in ages.’

He considered this, then looked back at the jumps. ‘Really.’

This too was said flatly, no intonation, so I had nothing to go on. Still, I felt defensive as I said, ‘I just… I wasn’t much for outdoor stuff as a kid.’

‘Outdoor stuff,’ he repeated.

‘I mean, I went outside,’ I added. ‘I wasn’t a recluse or anything. I just didn’t ride bikes very much. And haven’t recently.’

‘Right.’

Again, it wasn’t like this was critical, necessarily. But something about it still bugged me. ‘What,’ I said, ‘is that a crime here or something? Like only buying one thing at the Gas/Gro?’

I meant to say this in a kidding sort of way, but I sounded shrill even to my own ears, hearing it. Or maybe just crazy. Eli said, ‘What?’

I felt my face flush. ‘Nothing. Forget it.’

I turned to go, pulling my keys out of my pocket. I’d only taken two steps, though, when he said, ‘You know, if you don’t know how to ride a bike, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘I can ride a bike,’ I said. And this was true. I’d learned over Christmas when I was seven, in our driveway, on Hollis’s old Schwinn, with training wheels. From what I remembered, I’d liked it, or at least not hated it. Which did not explain why I couldn’t actually recall doing it very much since then. Or, at all. ‘I just… I haven’t had the opportunity in a while.’

‘Huh,’ he said.

That was just it. Just Huh. Jesus. ‘What?’

He raised his eyebrows. Probably because again, my voice sounded high, slightly unbalanced. It was so weird, because usually I was totally nervous talking to guys. But Eli was different. He made me want to say more, not less. Which was maybe not such a good thing.

‘All I’m saying,’ he said after a moment, ‘is that we
are
at a jump park.’

I just looked at him. ‘I’m not going to ride a bike just to prove to you that I can.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ he replied. ‘However, if you’re looking for an opportunity… here’s your chance. That’s all.’

Which, of course, made perfect sense. I’d said I hadn’t had the opportunity: he was pointing out that now I did. So why did I feel so unnerved?

I took a breath, then another, so my voice was calm, level as I said, ‘I think I’ll pass, actually.’

‘All righty,’ he said, hardly bothered.

And then I was walking back to my car. End of subject and conversation. But ‘all righty’? What
was
that?

Once behind the wheel, the door shut behind me, I looked back at him, already thinking of a dozen other, better ways I could have handled this conversation. I cranked my engine, then backed out of my space. The last thing I saw before turning around was Eli right where I’d left him, still looking up at the jumps. His head was cocked slightly to the side, as if he was thinking hard, the jumpers rising up in front of him. From this distance, you couldn’t tell them apart, distinguish their various styles or approaches. They were all the same, moving in a steady line, up, down, in view for only a moment, then gone again.

      Chapter

      SEVEN

When it came to Thisbe, Heidi worried about everything. How much she slept. Whether she ate enough. Whether she ate too much. What that red spot on her leg was. (Ring-worm? Eczema? The mark of the devil?) If it hurt her to cry so much/her hair was going to fall out/her poops were the right color. And now, she was going to give the kid an identity crisis.

‘My goodness!’ I heard her saying one day when I came down for my coffee around four
P.M
. She and Thisbe were in the living room, having ‘tummy time’ – which she did religiously, as it was supposed to keep the baby from having a flat head – on the floor. ‘Look at how strong you are!’

Initially, I was too focused on getting my caffeine levels up to pay attention to them. Also, I’d kind of mastered tuning Heidi out, if only out of necessity. But after I’d had a half a cup I began to notice something was amiss.

‘Caroline,’ she was saying in a singsong voice, drawing out each syllable. ‘Who’s my pretty Caroline girl?’

I filled my cup up again, then walked into the living room. She was leaning over the baby, who was on her stomach, struggling to hold up that big, possibly flat head. ‘Caroline,’ she said, tickling the baby’s back. ‘Miss Pretty Caroline West.’

‘I thought her name was Thisbe,’ I said.

Heidi jumped, startled, then looked up at me. ‘Auden,’ she stammered. ‘I… I didn’t hear you come in.’

I looked at her, then at the baby, then back at her again. ‘I was actually just passing through,’ I told her, and turned to go. I thought I was safe, but then, just as I reached the stairs, she spoke.

‘I don’t like the name!’ When I turned back, she looked up at the ceiling, her face flushed, like someone else had said this. Then she sighed, sitting back on her heels. ‘I don’t,’ she said slowly, more quietly. ‘I wanted to name her Isabel. It’s the name of one of my best friends here in Colby, and I’d always loved it.’

Hearing this, I looked longingly up the stairs in the direction of my dad’s office, wishing, as I always did, that he was here to deal with this instead of me. But lately he’d been even more immersed in his book, the apples piling up uneaten.

‘So,’ I said to Heidi, walking back over to her, ‘why didn’t you?’

She bit her lip, smoothing her hand over the baby’s back. ‘Your father wanted her to have a literary name,’ she said. ‘He said Isabel was too pedestrian, common, that with it, she’d never have a chance at greatness. But I worry Thisbe is just
too
unusual, too exotic. It’s got to be hard to have a name hardly anyone’s ever heard of, don’t you think?’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘not necessarily.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Oh!

Auden! I wasn’t saying that yours –’

‘I know, I know,’ I said, holding up my hand to fend off this apology, which would likely have gone on for ages. ‘I’m just saying, from experience, it hasn’t really been a hindrance. That’s all.’

She nodded, then looked back down at Thisbe. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I guess that is good to know.’

‘But if you don’t like it,’ I told her, ‘just call her Caroline. I mean –’

‘Who’s being called Caroline?’

I jumped, turning to see my dad, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Clearly, I was not the only one creeping around. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I was just saying it’s the baby’s middle name –’

‘
Middle
name,’ he repeated. ‘And only because her mother insisted. I wanted to name her Thisbe Andromeda.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heidi wince. ‘Really?’ I said.

‘It’s powerful!’ he replied, pounding his chest for emphasis. ‘Memorable. And it can’t be shortened or cutified, which is how a name should be. If you were an Ashley or a Lisa, and not an Auden, do you think you’d be so special?’

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer this. Did he actually expect me to agree that it was his choice of name, and not all my hard work, that had gotten me where I was?

Luckily, it seemed to be a rhetorical question, as he was already en route to the fridge, where he pulled out a beer. ‘I think,’ Heidi said, glancing at me, ‘that while names are important, it’s the person who really defines themselves. So if Thisbe is a Thisbe, that’s great. But if she wants to be a Caroline, then she has that option.’

‘She is not,’ my dad said, popping his beer, ‘going to be a Caroline.’

I just looked at him, trying to figure out when, exactly, he’d gotten so pompous and impossible. He couldn’t have been like this my entire life. I would have remembered it. Wouldn’t I?

‘You know,’ Heidi said quickly, scooping the baby up and coming into the kitchen, ‘I don’t even know your middle name, Auden. What is it?’

I kept my eyes on my dad, steadily, as I said, ‘Penelope.’

‘See?’ said my dad to her, as if this proved something. ‘Strong. Literary. Unique.’

Embarrassing, I thought. Too long. Pretentious. ‘That’s lovely!’ Heidi said too enthusiastically. ‘I had no idea.’

I didn’t say anything, instead just downed the rest of my coffee and put the cup in the sink. I could feel Heidi watching me, though, even as my dad headed out onto the front deck with his beer. I heard her take in a breath, about to say something, but luckily, then my dad was calling her, asking what she wanted to do for dinner.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, glancing at me as she put Thisbe in her bouncy seat, which was on the kitchen table. She fastened her in, then shot me an apologetic look as she stepped outside to join him. ‘What are you in the mood for?’

I stood there for a moment, watching them stand together, looking out at the water. My dad was drinking his beer, and as Heidi talked he looped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. You just couldn’t even begin to understand how some things worked, or so I was learning.

On the counter, the baby made a gurgling noise, waving her arms around, and I walked over, looking down at her. She couldn’t look you in the eye yet: instead, her gaze always found the center of your forehead.

Maybe she would be a Thisbe, after all, and never even consider Caroline. But it was the thought of my dad’s face, so sure, as he stated otherwise that made me lean in close to her ear and christen her anew. Part her given name, part the one Heidi had wanted, but all mine.

‘Hey, Isby,’ I whispered. ‘Aren’t you a pretty Isby girl.’

• • •

There’s something about living at the beach in the summer. You get so used to the sun and sand that it gets hard to remember what the rest of the world, and the year, is like. When I opened the front door to an outright downpour a couple of days later, I just stood there for a moment, realizing that I’d forgotten all about rainy days.

Since I had no rain jacket, I had to borrow one from Heidi, who offered me three colors: bright pink, light pink, and, in her words, ‘dusky pink’, whatever that meant. I picked the light one, yet still felt positively radioactive as I walked down the gray, wet sidewalk, boldly contrasting with everything around me.

At Clementine’s, Maggie was behind the counter, in a miniskirt, flip-flops, and a worn T-shirt that said
CLYDE’S RIDES
on it, bicycle wheels in both the
D
s. She was bent over a magazine, most likely her beloved
Hollyworld
, and gave me a sleepy wave as I approached.

‘Still coming down out there, huh?’ she said, reaching into the register to hand me the day’s receipts.

‘Yup,’ I replied. ‘Any shipments?’

‘Not yet.’

I nodded, and then she went back to her reading, turning a page. While Esther and Leah sometimes attempted more conversation with me, Maggie always kept it to a minimum, which I actually appreciated. It wasn’t like we needed to pretend we were friends, or had anything in common other than our employer. And while I had to admit to still being somewhat surprised by what I’d seen her do at the jump park, otherwise I figured I pretty much had her pegged, and knew she probably felt that exact same way about me.

I went to the office, which for some reason was freezing, so I kept Heidi’s jacket on as I got settled, pulling out the checkbook and finding my calculator. For the next hour or so, the store was pretty dead, aside from a couple of groups of girls coming in to pick through the clearance rack and moon over the shoes. Occasionally I’d hear Maggie’s phone beep as a text message came in, but otherwise it was pretty quiet. Then, at around six, the door chimed.

‘Hi there,’ I heard Maggie say. ‘Can I help you find anything?’

There was a pause, and I wondered if the person had heard her. Then, though, came the voice I knew better than just about any other. ‘Oh, dear God no,’ my mother said, and I could hear the shudder in her tone. ‘I’m just looking for my daughter.’

‘You’re Auden’s mom?’ Maggie said. ‘That’s great! She’s in back. I’m sure she –’

I sat bolt upright, then pushed my chair back and scrambled to the door. Even though I got out to the floor as fast as I could, it wasn’t quick enough. I found my mother, dressed in her customary all-black – dress, sweater over it, hair piled on her head – by the makeup display. She was holding a glass bottle at arm’s length, her eyes narrowed as she examined the printed label.

‘Booty Berry,’ she read slowly, enunciating each word. Then she looked over her glasses at Maggie. ‘And this is?’

‘Perfume,’ Maggie told her. Then she smiled at me. ‘Or, actually, body spritzette. It’s like perfume, but lighter and longer lasting, for everyday use.’

‘Of course,’ my mother said, her voice flat. She replaced the bottle, then took a long look around the store, her displeasure more than evident. When she finally got to me, she didn’t look any happier. ‘Well. There you are.’

‘Hi,’ I said. She was studying me with such seriousness that I was instantly nervous, then even more so when I remembered the pink jacket I had on. ‘I, um… when did you decide to come down?’

My mother sighed, turning past Maggie – who was now smiling at her, for some reason – to the bathing suits, which she surveyed with an expression one might reserve for observing some sort of tragedy. ‘This morning,’ she said, shaking her head as she reached out to touch an orange bottom, trimmed with ruffles. ‘I was desperate for an escape, but I seem to have brought foul mood and weather with me.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Maggie said. ‘The rain’s supposed to taper off tonight. Tomorrow will be gorgeous! Perfect beach weather. You’ll get that suntan yet.’

My mom turned back to look at her as if she were speaking in tongues. ‘Well,’ she said, in such a way I knew she was holding back everything she was actually thinking, ‘won’t that be nice.’

‘Have you eaten?’ I asked her, too eagerly. I took a breath, then said more calmly, ‘There’s a really good place just a bit down the boardwalk. I can probably take off for an hour or so.’

‘Of course you can!’ Maggie said. ‘You should totally hang out with your mom. The books can wait.’

My mom eyed Maggie again, as if doubting she could recognize a book, much less read one. ‘I could use a drink, at any rate,’ she said, taking another look around the store before starting for the door. Even her stride was disapproving. ‘Lead the way.’

I glanced at Maggie, who was watching her, fascinated. ‘I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?’

‘Take your time!’ she said. ‘Really. I’m fine here alone.’

My mother snorted softly, hearing this, and then, thankfully, we were out the door, back into the rain. As soon as it swung shut behind us she said, ‘Oh, Auden. It’s even worse than I expected.’

I felt my face flush, although I wasn’t surprised she was so up front. ‘I needed a rain jacket,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t normally –’

‘I mean,’ she continued, ‘I knew any business Heidi owned would probably not be to my sensibilities. But Booty Berry? And what about those Lolita-esque swimming bottoms? Are we packaging women to look like little girls now? Or little girls to look even more so, in order to exploit their innocence? How can she be a woman, not to mention a mother, and condone this sort of thing?’

Hearing this, I relaxed, as my mother’s rants were as familiar to me as nursery rhymes. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘the fact is, she knows her market. That stuff really sells.’

‘Of course it does! But that doesn’t make it right.’ My mother sighed, opening her umbrella and raising it over her head, then offering me her arm, which I took, stepping beneath it with her. ‘And all that
pink
. It’s like a giant vagina in there.’

I stifled a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand.

‘But I guess that’s the point,’ she said, sighing. ‘It’s just so bothersome because it’s the most shallow, base depiction of the female experience. Sugar and spice and everything nice, peddling packaging, not substance.’

We were at the Last Chance now, where for once there was no line. ‘This is the place,’ I said, nodding at it. ‘The onion rings are to die for.’

My mother peered in the door. ‘Oh, no, no. I’ll require at least tablecloths and a wine list. Let’s keep looking.’

We ended up back at the hotel where she was staying, a small boutique place called the Condor just off the boardwalk. Its restaurant was tiny, crowded with only a few tables, and dim, heavy red curtains hanging from the windows, the carpet a matching shade. My mother settled into a booth, nodded her approval at the flickering candle on the table, and ordered a glass of cabernet from the hostess as she shed her sweater. After a pointed look, I took off Heidi’s jacket, stuffing it under my bag, out of sight.