Far from Xanadu (27 page)
Her words swirled around in my head. My opportunity. My dream.
Right, Dad. My dream died. Again. Because of you. I should have left it dead and buried.
“Whatever happened to Terrence?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Your first husband.”
“Oh. Him.” She cocked a limp wrist. “He flew the coop. As did the second, and third.”
Third?
Unexpectedly, Miz S looped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. She smelled of chalk and liverwurst and rose water, and I had the strongest urge to wrap my arms around her and hold on tight. Like I would a mom. The one I never had. But my arms wouldn’t respond to my heart.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Mike,” she said, rocking me gently. “Some decisions you can never take back.”
Hear that, Dad? You made your choice. You can never take it back.
I decided to skip Coalton Days. Xanadu was right. It was Toto. A hick-town hoedown. Who needed it? Besides, I’d gotten up at the crack of dawn every day this week to work on the fountain. It was a bigger job than anticipated. Not only did the pump need to be replaced, the pipe to the water main had to be chiseled out from under fifty years of tree roots, then new pipe cut, laid, reconnected. I couldn’t do it after school because of my
real
job. My paying job, which paid shit. And the hundred dollars I’d quoted Mayor Ledbetter didn’t cover the replacement cost of the PVC. Thanks, Dad. You could’ve taught me how to bid on jobs before you bought it.
“What do you mean you’re not going to Coalton Days?” Jamie had a hissy fit on the phone. “You have to go. It’s tradition. I already signed us up for the sack race.”
“Ask Beau to hop in the sack with you.” From the back of the house, I heard the toilet flush and Ma crack the floorboards in the hallway.
Jamie whined, “Please? It’s no fun without you. Anyway, I have to talk to you. I need to show you something I can’t show to anyone else.”
What could that be? His limp dick?
Jamie added, “What are you doing today that’s so important?”
What
was
I doing? It was Sunday. The Merc was closed. I was banned from the VFW. It wasn’t like I had a hot date. The TV blared to life in the living room and I pictured myself holing up here all day with Bloody Mary. Or Derelict Darryl. “For a little while,” I told Jamie. “But only so we can retain the world title.”
“Praise Ra,” he said. “I thought I’d have to give up the trophy. It’s holding my condom collection, you know.”
T
he year Dad died Coalton Days had been canceled. Not only because of him; it’d rained that entire week. The sidewalk sales were washed out and the park had become a mucky swamp. Nobody felt much like celebrating anyway. Today the weather was warm and balmy, a perfect spring day.
The stores along Main were all closed. Even Hank’s Hardware and Tiny’s Salon. I hoped I wouldn’t run into Xanadu and Bailey. Bailey and Xanadu. Ever since he got her that ring, they’d been like French horndogs. Not Xanadu. Bailey. He couldn’t keep his paws off her.
The Old Farts band was tuning up in the gazebo. They weren’t too bad, except all they knew were polkas. The gazebo was decked out in bunting, the traditional red, white, and blue.
“There you are.” Jamie rushed out from behind the bake sale table. He called over his shoulder, “I’m taking a break now, Geneviève.” Dottie fluttered fingers at him. She was busy collecting money for a box of Grandma Dottie’s that Dr. Kinneson and her husband were buying.
Dr. Kinneson spotted me and waved. I waved back. She didn’t act too mad at me. I hadn’t changed my mind. Dreams were for other people. People who could afford them. People who had a farm to mortgage for their kids.
Our last softball game of the season was tomorrow after school. Maybe afterwards she’d get off my case. I’d have to figure out a way to give the money back. All of it.
Jamie was standing in front of me, gawking.
“What?”
“You, making a fashion statement.” He snaked a hand down my chest.
I’d decided to wear Dad’s suspenders. I don’t know why. Patriotism? Tradition? “What did you need to show me?” I asked Jamie.
“Patience, my dear. All will be revealed.”
I exhaled indifference.
Jamie headed for the picnic area, but I pulled him up short. Too many people. I steered him in the direction of the fountain instead.
It was working great, better than it ever had. Shooting ten-foot cones of recycled water over the bronze statue of John Coalton, our town founder. Darryl had done a research paper on John Coalton for his senior project or something. He’d dug through
Gazette
archives and talked to old-timers. He unearthed the fact that our founder had been run out of Oklahoma for bilking old people out of their life savings in a land fraud scheme. That history lesson dropped a few chassis in town. We didn’t celebrate John Coalton anymore. The statue remained though. He was our legacy, like it or not.
I sat on the brick ledge surrounding the fountain and Jamie hopped up next to me. He pushed up the cuff of his long-sleeve shirt and shook his hand at the ground. A silver bracelet slid down his arm. “Shane sent it to me,” he said. “Isn’t it awesome?”
The bracelet looked expensive, like real silver. Not that I’d know fake from real. “Nice,” I told him.
“He had it engraved.” Jamie jimmied the bracelet off his wrist. Underneath, next to the skin, was one word: FOREVER.
“Forever.” Jamie repeated aloud. “That’s a long time.”
“Longer than a one-nighter in Denver,” I said.
He pressed the bracelet to his heart. What was it with all the love jewelry? Didn’t anyone send flowers anymore? Flowers expressed sentiment. Then, after a week, they died.
“There you are.”
Our heads shot up.
“I’ve been looking all over for you guys.” The sight of Xanadu still made me melt. She had on her red leather pants today — so fine — and a loose knit, see-through shirt. What I saw was a skimpy bra. Was she reverting to her old self ? Her true self ? The bellybutton ring was back. The pants showed every curve and crevice of her. Her hair was loose, free, blowing in the breeze away from her face like a super-model. Like my Maserati girl.
She smiled into my eyes. I felt a rise between my legs. “What’s that, Jamie?” Her eyes drifted down.
“Nothing,” Jamie snapped. He fumbled to put the bracelet back on. It slipped out of his hand and plinked to the ground, rolling away. Jamie dropped to his knees and groped for it, scooping up the bracelet like we were going to tackle him and take it away. Xanadu curled a lip at me, like, What is with him?
Who knew? Love did strange things to people.
“Hey, guys.” Bailey sauntered up behind Xanadu. He was holding a package of beef jerky. Ripping off a chunk between his teeth, he said, “How goes it?” sliding one arm around Xanadu’s bare midriff and offering her a bite.
She pushed his hand away. “Ew, I hate that stuff.”
Bailey looked offended. “Why? It probably came from the same cow as your pants.” He smirked.
She elbowed him in the ribs and grinned up at him.
It wasn’t that funny. “I’ll take one,” I said, not waiting for him to offer.
Bailey had to detach himself from Xanadu to pull out a strip of jerky from the package. “Jamie?” Bailey extended the jerky to him.
“No,” Jamie grumbled. “Thanks.”
“What’s a hayrack ride?” Xanadu asked out of the blue.
Bailey knuckled her head and said to me, “I keep telling her it’s the highlight of Coalton Days. She doesn’t get it.” He explained to Xanadu, like she was a moron, “Everett and June load the flatbed with hay and drive a bunch of people around.”
“That’s it?” She made a face. “You’re joking.”
I think Bailey wished he was.
“He made it sound like it was a religious experience.”
Bailey’s eyes dropped. “She’ll understand once we do it,” he mumbled. “Beau said June wants to get started earlier this year, around eight. I said I’d spread the word.”
“Count me out,” Jamie said. “I have other plans.”
Bailey’s jaw dropped in unison with mine. What other plans? Jamie miss the hayride? Even if Beau was history, we always went on the hayride. It was tradition. Last year the tradition was margaritas. Jamie and Deb had smuggled in a couple of thermoses and passed them around. Other people filled canteens and water bottles with beer. Bailey was right, the hayride was the highlight of Coalton Days.
“You remember our plans.” Jamie widened his eyes at me.
What plans?
He growled low in his throat.
“What?”
“Forget it.” He turned and stalked off.
“Why is he mad at me?” Xanadu asked. “What did I do? He’s been dissing me all week. If he even sees me coming, he deliberately walks the other way.” She slit eyes at his back. “Is he pissed off because we’re not getting smashed every weekend? God, you know, I’m sorry if I don’t want to steal from Aunt Faye and Uncle Lee anymore. I have a police record already, okay?”
“You do?” Bailey said.
Xanadu blanched. “That was a joke.” She fixed on my face. “What did I do to Jamie?”
“You didn’t do anything,” I said. “He has PMS.”
Bailey cracked up. So glad he found us amusing.
The jerky suddenly tasted like cardboard, so I stuck it in my back pocket for later. Xanadu perched next to me on the ledge and Bailey invited himself to scoot in beside her. She had to remove her purse from her shoulder to accommodate him. For some reason, she handed me the purse.
It was beaded. Black and green and clear glass beads. I wanted to open it, inhale the scent of her, search around inside for evidence and understanding of her.
She said, “Did I tell you I decided to finish my senior year here?”
“No.” My hopes soared. A lot could happen in a year. “I’m glad.” Euphoric.
“Me too.” She nudged my shoulder with hers. “I’m going to need a summer job though. Dad says he can’t keep sending me money, and Aunt Faye and Uncle Lee shouldn’t have to support me totally. I was thinking maybe I could get a job at the Merc. Wouldn’t that be fun, the two of us working together?”
It’d be a dream, I thought.
“Could you talk to your boss? Ask him if he has a position for me? Tell him I have experience hauling horse food off a flatbed.” She grinned.
I snorted.
“Serious,” she said.
“Sure. I can do that.” Everett didn’t need summer help, not with me and June there. He told me earlier in the week he expected this year to be slow with the economy and the drought. Warning me, maybe, that he might have to cut back my hours. I could work parttime, though. Split my hours with Xanadu. Anything to be with her.
She bumped shoulders with me again. I bumped her back.
Bailey leaned around the front of her and asked, “When are you going to softball camp, Mike?”
Was he still here? “I never said I was.”
He arched his eyebrows.
“Everyone just assumed that’s what I wanted.”
Bailey said, “You don’t?”
Xanadu interjected, “I hate when people do that. Assume they know what you want. Assume they know
you
, when it’s obvious they don’t. How could they?”
Exactly.
She unlatched the purse in my lap and dug inside, pulling out a camera. “I wanted to get some pictures of us to send home to my friends. My friends,” she intoned. “Right. To Mom and Dad and Loni, at least.” Eyeing the surrounding area, she pointed and said, “Let’s do it by that tree over there.”
My eyes followed her finger.
“No!”
I said.
Xanadu flinched. Did I react out loud? I just meant not
that
tree.
How could I explain? When I was six, Dad and I had planted that tree on Arbor Day. A red oak. It was a sapling then, a baby. The tree was tall now, a perfect canopy that would shade the entire picnic area come summer. In the fall our red oak was the most glorious tree in town. I hadn’t noticed how much it’d grown. Two years. How much I’d missed coming here on weekends, during the summer. Sitting under our tree to think or read or soak up sky.
“Mike?” Xanadu’s eyes drilled the side of my granite face. “Are you all right?”
I swallowed hard. “Dad and I planted that tree together,” I said, not looking at her.
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. We can take pictures somewhere else.”
I turned and met her eyes. An image of her materialized in my mind, against my tree, red hair on red oak. “No. Let’s do it.” I pushed off the ledge to my feet.
Xanadu handed the camera to Bailey and stood beside me. She took her purse, then my hand.
She took my hand. And she held it all the way to my tree. She didn’t care how many people saw. She didn’t care if Bailey saw.
“Take one of me and Mike together,” she ordered Bailey.
Through the heat, the blood coursing through my veins, I heard him ask, “How do you work this thing?”
Xanadu ducked under a branch and snaked an arm around my waist. “It’s self-focusing. Just point and click.”
“Where’s the clicker?”
“God,” she said under her breath. “He’s so clueless sometimes.” She told him, “The red button on top.”
Can’t you see? I almost said. He’s clueless all the time.
“Okay.” Bailey raised the camera to his eye. “Smile.”
Xanadu rested her temple against mine.
Click.
I think my eyes were closed in the picture, but I didn’t care. We could stay this way forever. The warmth of her breath on my face, our arms around each other’s waists. Her soft skin, hot skin.
Xanadu shifted so we were front to front, cheeks touching. “Take another.”
I was holding her with both hands now.
Click.
She threw up a leg and, in reflex, I caught it across my arms. Leaning back, she stuck out her tongue and dropped her head down.
Click.
A couple more silly poses.
“Will you take one of me and Bailey?” she asked.
I’d take him out. What could I say? “Sure.”
Bailey and I exchanged places. He pulled Xanadu into his arms and held her head to his chest with his big hairy paw. I raised the camera to my eye, framing only her face. The slight smile. Not unhappy, but not thrilled about being manhandled.
