Far from Xanadu (19 page)

“I can read.”

“Oh my God. I’m having a heart attack.” Jamie pressed a palm to his chest.

“What do you think of Xanadu?” I asked to change the subject.

Jamie blew out a shallow breath. “I’m not sure.” He chewed his pinkie nail. “She’s cool, but there’s something about her that bothers me. Oh yeah.” He snapped his fingers. “She’s straight.”

I stood up. “People aren’t always what they seem.”

“Mike —”

I paved a path through his faux fur rug.

“Mike!”

“What?” I spun around at the door.

Jamie’s eyes flickered from me to his monitor. “Oh my God. He did it! Shane got a reservation.”

What could be more romantic than spending the day with the girl you loved locked up in a plumbing supply shop? I was hoping she’d see the beauty of it. Of course, she’d have to understand what it meant to me and I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about that yet.

We had an oral report to give in History and a fitness challenge in Gym. Today was the worst day of the week for me to ditch. Oh well. Love was about making sacrifices, right? What was perfect attendance, anyway? A worthless certificate.

“I think Bailey’s parents have a problem with me,” Xanadu said as she hopped into the truck and shut the door. She’d been waiting at our predetermined rendezvous behind the Dairy D. “They look at me like I’m going to corrupt him or something. I’m sure they think I’m this big city slut. Where are we going?” She tucked a foot underneath her and turned to face me as I shifted gears.

“To Dad’s,” I replied. “I need to see how much ABS he has in stock.”

Xanadu said tentatively, “Your... dad’s?”

What? Oh. “I mean, his shop. His...our... plumbing shop.”

“Okay.” Her nose wrinkled slightly.

“We can hang out there,” I told her. “If anyone in town sees us ditching, they’re likely to call the school.”

“You’re kidding.”

I met her eyes. Minimal makeup. Hair in a ponytail. Cutoffs with an eyelet blouse. Rebecca of Sunnybrook.

“You’re not joking,” she said.

“The mayor asked if I’d fix the town fountain, since Coalton Days is coming up. That thing springs a leak every year. I thought I’d just replace the whole length of pipe to the water main with new ABS...”

She looked at me.

I added, “Not today. I just want to check supplies; see if I have to order anything.”

She glanced away, obviously upset. How insensitive could I be?

“I don’t know what I did for her to hate me.” Xanadu’s jaw clenched. “I ate her fucking chicken fried steak without hurling.”

“People here are used to each other, that’s all,” I said. “Bailey’s parents just need to get to know you.”

“Who cares? That’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.” She continued to gaze out the window as I hung a left and tooled down Main.

I didn’t want to pry. I was glad we were off the subject of Bailey.

She exhaled a long breath and cranked up the radio, even though it was country. Travis Tritt. She didn’t seem to care, or hear.

As the shop came into view, my stomach twisted. Would I always feel sick at the sight of it? It didn’t help that I was ditching today for the first time ever.

I drove up the alley and parked in back. “Here we are,” I stated the obvious. My voice sounded as far away as I suddenly wished I was. Coming here was a bad idea.

Before I could change my mind, Xanadu got out of the truck. She perched on tiptoes to peer through the cracked window while I unlocked the back door. Inside, the shop was the same as I’d left it. Dark, deserted. I opened the slats on the dusty miniblinds so there’d be enough light to see in the stockroom. To see her.

“I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.” Could she, the way I did? The way I used to? This place had been like home to me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Xanadu wander around the office area, touching things, examining objects. There was plenty of PVC and ABS stacked along the wall in back. Dad must’ve ordered pipe right before... Maybe he’d planned to fix the leak in the fountain before...

Stop thinking about it.

I returned to the office where Xanadu had lifted Dad’s stuffed pheasant off the filing cabinet.

“He shot that when he was eight,” I told her. “His dad, my grandpa Darryl, stuffed it for him.”

Xanadu shuddered and dropped the pheasant back on top of the cabinet. Dad was so proud of that kill. Even back then, he’d cherished death more than life.

“Hey, your dad played softball?” Xanadu pulled his trophy down.

“Yeah. He was in a men’s fastpitch league. My number, 19, that was his number —”

Her shoulders slumped suddenly and she burst out crying. I plunked the pipe on the floor and rushed over. Removing Dad’s trophy from her limp hand and setting it gently atop the cabinet in the same exact spot, I asked, “What is it, Xanadu?”

She almost threw her arms around me. Almost. I know she wanted to. She could have. I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but something kept me from making the first move. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she said. “Tiffany. Her death.” A sound like a wounded animal issued from Xanadu’s throat and she doubled over, clutching her stomach. I took both her arms and backed her onto Dad’s office chair.

She leaned forward, rocking herself. Back and forth. Crying. I balanced on my haunches in front of her. “I don’t know how to deal,” she said. “How do you deal with it, Mike? Death, I mean.” She blinked up, her watery eyes fixing on me.

“I don’t think about it.” Except at night when the nightmare intrudes. When I see him, his body — falling, falling,
thud.

I stood up fast, a solid mass of hurt caught in my chest. I couldn’t think.

Stop thinking. Stop feeling. Exhale, hold, hold.

“What happened that day?” Xanadu asked quietly.

I was suspended in time, space.

I levered myself against Dad’s desk, my knees wobbly. We shouldn’t have come here.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Her voice soft as a pillow. “All Bailey said was that your dad was drunk and fell off the water tower.”

I blew. “Is that what Bailey said?” I stood up straight. I didn’t want to talk about this. Not with anyone. Not with her.

Yes, I did. I wanted her to know me, know everything about me. I wanted us to be close.

“Bailey said —”

“Bailey lied.” Bailey should shut up. “Yeah, my dad was drunk. He was always drunk. He was loaded that day, sure. But no more than usual.” Bailey should tell her the truth, at least. “He was an alcoholic, okay? And he didn’t fall off the water tower.”

“But Bailey said —”

“He didn’t fall.” My voice hard, rough.

Xanadu’s jaw slowly came unhinged. Her hands rose to cover her mouth. “Oh my God, Mike.” She blinked. “He...committed suicide?”

I stared ahead.

“Are you sure?”

I glanced up at the pheasant, the trophy, Dad’s plumbing license, framed and hung on the wall. Expired. The cracked, filthy back window.

“Mike?”

“I’m sure.” Hate you, Dad. I hate you so much. “He wrote out his will the night before he did it. Pretty obvious what he was planning.” My eyes met hers.

“Oh God.”

Then her arms were around me, pulling me into her, crushing me against her body. No. I won’t cry. You can’t make me, Dad. But I felt myself falling, falling, losing control. I wouldn’t. He couldn’t make me.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t force myself to respond to Xanadu, to hold her in return. Not for this. Not because of him. I’d been dying for this moment, to be together, our bodies melding, but the reason needed to be right. I wanted her to want me, to desire me, yeah. But our coming together had to be spontaneous. It had to be mutual, reciprocal.

“It must be unbearable.” She stepped back and gazed into my eyes. Her emotion, her empathy dug so deep into my soul it ached.

“I don’t think about it. That’s how you get through. You force it from your mind.”

Her arms fell to the side. “I can’t...
not
think about it,” she said. “I have nightmares.”

I closed my eyes and turned away.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Xanadu clenched my wrist. “I won’t tell Bailey if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

I’m not afraid. That’s not it. “He knows. Everybody knows. They’re just too polite to talk about it in public.”

We needed to get off the subject of Dad. I unlocked her hold on me and charged to the front door; picked up an envelope that had been shoved in the mail slot. It was dusty and yellowed. An overdue notice from Rural Electric, postmarked two years ago. I sailed it to the floor.

Xanadu said, “Have you talked with anyone about this?”

“Like a psychiatrist?” I turned and faked a smile. “The closest thing we have to a shrink around here is Renata, who reads people’s horoscopes for ten bucks a pop.”

Xanadu’s eyes softened. “I meant, a friend.”

I wished to hell we’d move on. Talk about the weather, Bailey, anything. “Jamie,” I said. “We’ve talked.” As much as we needed to. What was there to say? Jamie understood. You got through it; you got over it. It was cold in here, or hot. My skin prickled. I trudged over to the thermometer to check it, see if it’d click on.

“Jamie’s a good friend, isn’t he? I can tell you two are tight.”

No power, of course. “Not that tight,” I said.

“I didn’t mean tight, like tight. That’d be interesting, wouldn’t it? You and Jamie?” She crossed her eyes.

It made me laugh. “Yeah,
real
interesting.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you believe in love at first sight?” She sat back down in Dad’s chair, tossing her hair over both shoulders.

“Definitely,” I said.

She smiled. “Me too. I didn’t used to. I can’t believe how we just clicked. I mean, the first time we laid eyes on each other, it was like, Wow. I’ve gotta have this. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

My heart propelled out of my chest. Did she mean it?

“He said he felt it too. He couldn’t take his eyes off me.” She lowered her head and blushed.

Bailey. I felt like throwing up. Change the subject again. Predicting when the drought will end is always a rich topic of conversation.

“Same as us,” Xanadu added. She raised her head and held my eyes. Her warmth enveloped me, caressed me.

What’d she mean? Both of us?

“I knew instantly we’d be friends.”

Friends? I wanted us to be more than friends. We were more.

“So, Mike. Have you ever...?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Ever what? Oh. That. My mouth went dry. “Are you thirsty?” I asked. Head down, I plowed across the room. “Dad usually kept a six-pack in the fridge.” His mini-fridge was behind her. I had to swivel Xanadu’s legs out of the way to get to it. I actually touched her. Sparks of electricity flew between us. Real, palpable. I know she felt it. Goose bumps raised on her skin, and mine too.

In the fridge were a couple of cans of Classic Coke and a quart of Old Milwaukee.

She extended an open hand and I filled it with the beer bottle. Her question lingered. I wanted her to answer it for me. Had
she
ever? Had sex? I didn’t care with who. As long as it wasn’t Bailey. As long as they weren’t doing it, I figured I still had a chance. She liked me — a lot. She knew instantly she would. There was more going on here than friendship. When would she realize it, acknowledge it? The touching, smiling, the intimacy, attraction. When would she act on it?

When she was ready, I answered my own question. At any moment.

She drew a long pull of the beer and screwed up her face. “Ugh. Pretty desperate, drinking warm beer at nine AM.”

Xanadu passed the bottle to me and I tipped it to my lips. Not only warm. Flat too. I wanted to spit it out, but the bathroom was clear in back. I gagged as I swallowed. “So. Have you and Bailey...?” I set the bottle on top of the fridge.

A slow smile spread across her lips. “He makes you think he’s this shy, virginal type, right? When we started kissing, it was like he’d been saving it up. Saving himself, he said. For me. God, it was unbelievable, Mike.”

Why did I have to ask! Stupid. I clutched the neck of the bottle and pitched it in the metal trash can. The glass shattered and beer splattered everywhere. I said, “Let’s drive to Garden City.”

Xanadu leaped to her feet. “Okay.”

I barreled to the door and flung it wide, crashing outside into the blinding light. Why did I have to ask?

Chapter Seventeen

D
r. Kinneson called me to her office out of Geometry. “Where were you yesterday?” she said. “All your teachers reported you missing. Are you sick? Are you okay?”

“No. I mean, I’m not sick.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” What could possibly be wrong? Everything was perfect. My dad committed suicide. Xanadu was having sex with Bailey. “I ditched.”

Dr. Kinneson’s eyes waffled. She studied my face. My face was a study in granite, well rehearsed. She’d never chisel through. “Why?” she asked.

“Why?” I repeated. What kind of question was that?

“Do you have a reason? Was it an emergency?”

Besides needing to be with Xanadu? It seemed vital at the time. I didn’t reply. Maybe I shrugged.

Leaning across her desk, Dr. Kinneson added, “What do you think I should do about it?”

She was asking me? I got to decide my punishment? “I don’t know. Slap my wrist? Send me to bed hungry?” I smirked.

She didn’t smile.

“I don’t know,” I said again. I’d never ditched before. A class here and there, yeah, when we had a sub. When I needed to be close to the sky. When no one would miss me. Do you miss me, Dad?

“How about you miss the game with Garden City tonight.”

“What!”

Dr. Kinneson rolled back her chair and stood. “I think that’s fair. One game.”

Fair? I couldn’t miss a game. It wasn’t just a game. “Coach, I’d rather you suspend me. Put me on probation. Make me clean the johns or something. Anything. I can’t miss a game.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the phone rang. She answered it. “Yes? All right. Put him through.” She covered the mouth-piece. “That’ll be all, Mike.”