Forever Blue (5 page)

     The conversation left me feeling lightheaded. I changed the subject
before I turned embarrassingly giddy.
“Ready for another around?”

     “I think we should head back.” Carter squinted and looked at his watch. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

    
In the dimmest part of my mind, I remember why I lived for those nights. It had much to do with our walks to and from the park. We talked about anything from sports to what we ate for dinner.    

  
“Well, see you tomorrow at school,” Carter whispered as he hiked
up his driveway.

    
“Carter Gregory Storm! What in Sam hell do you think you’re doing?”

    
I stopped stone cold. Mary’s volcanic force of pure rage hit me the moment she came stomping out of the house. I couldn’t imagine what was worse, getting caught by the cops or by Carter’s mother.

   
“Young man, are you out of your mind? What the hell is going on here?” She wore a white terry cloth bathrobe that seemed to glow against the reddening anger in her cheeks.

     
A soft cry trembled from Carter’s throat. “Mom, it’s not what you think.”

    
“Not what I think? Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night with a girl is not what I think?” She paused to allow her rabid thoughts to organize, perhaps to still her furious, beating heart. “Do you think I’m a fool?” she hissed. “You get your ass inside right now!”

    
Provoking her was unwise, but I couldn’t let Carter take all the blame. “Please don’t be mad at him. It was my fault.”

    
“You—you—you.” The words climbed from off her tongue too quickly, her speech stumbled. “You’re nothing but trouble,” she managed to say after an agonizing moment of silence. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson and just tell your parents what kind of a girl you really are.”

    
“We didn’t do anything bad, I swear,” I pleaded with her.

     
She pointed a boney finger at me and warned, “If I catch you hanging around Carter one more time, I’ll make sure that mother of yours knows how you’ve been whoring around with my son.”

      
My cheeks reddened
as I took a couple steps backward.
I’m ashamed to say she scared me more than the devil himself. I ran home in tears, and
I think that was the first time in my life I ever heard the word, “whore.”

    
Carter somehow crept out of his house after the brawl. We ended up meeting for a few moments in my back yard where he reassured me that he wasn’t going to let his mother break up our friendship. I wanted to believe him, but deep down I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mary Storm would do everything in her power to make our lives miserable.

***

     The sound of water hissing like an angry snake awoke me
on the morning of my birthday.
When I finally forced myself to do so, I got out of bed and headed over to my window to investigate. Carter was at the house next door to him, wearing ripped blue jeans and a faded red shirt. A green rubber hose slipped from his hands like a bar of soap. I bit my lips to restrain my smile. He attempted to wash down a cherry-red truck lathered in soap suds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made the connection that this was all for me. I’d wondered for the past few days how he was going to afford such a fancy steak house. I blinked uncomprehendingly, and
was almost unable to believe he was washing cars all for the sake of our date.

    
When Carter looked straight up at me, a
ridiculous smile settled on his lips. He waved and a blush rose to my cheeks. I ran down stairs, seized by the sudden desire to see him.

    
“Whoa! Slow down there, kiddo,” Dad said. One hand clutched my arm while the other held a steaming cup of coffee. The robust scent of his favorite black liquid permeated the air like a caffeinated perfume.

    
“Where’s Mom?” I asked impatiently.

    
“In the kitchen.” He pulled me in for an embrace and said, “Don’t I get to give my daughter a birthday hug and kiss?”

    
“Of course,” I replied, feeling the wet outline of his kiss on my forehead. He smelled heavily of stale cigarettes.

     
“I wish I could be here for your big night, sweetheart, but I won’t be home in time. I have to work late.”

    
“It’s okay, Dad. Mom said she’s going to take lots of pictures.”

    
“And remember,” he said, pointing an unyielding finger at me. “If
that boy tries anything
you’re uncomfortable with, he’ll have to answer to me.”

    
I rolled my eyes and replied, “Dad, Carter’s not like that.”

    
“I know,” he said, pinching my cheek, “but I’m just sayin.”

   
“You don’t have to worry. We’re just going to dinner.”

     
“I used to be his age once, believe it or not. I know what goes through a boy’s mind when he’s with a pretty girl,” he said with a wink.

     I was actually surprised at how easygoing my parents were about letting me go on my first official date. At times, I felt as though they were more excited about it than I was. My mom fussed over it for a week, calling it a milestone in her baby girl’s life. Just when things seemed too good to be true, Dad laid down the law with me one evening. Both Mom and Dad agreed to let me go on the date because they trusted Carter, but I was not to make a habit of it. I wasn’t officially allowed to date until I was sixteen.

    
I approached Mom in the kitchen while she
was preparing
breakfast.

     “Good morning, birthday girl.” She meticulously diced an onion, adding it to the pile of veggies on the counter: red bell peppers, mushrooms, and spinach. The smell of bacon frying wafted into my nose. 

     “Mom, did you see what Carter is doing outside?”

      “Yes. I already know,” Mom replied as she added
egg mixture into a frying pan. “He called while you were sleeping.”

    
I snatched a raw mushroom and popped it into my mouth. “What did he say?”

     “He’s washing cars and mowing lawns to pay for your date tonight,” she answered. “I’ll tell you, that boy is something else. He must really like you.”

     I paced the white linoleum kitchen floor, getting a little closer to the back door with each turn. “I think I’ll go talk to him.”

     “No, honey, just let him do his thing. Don’t be so impulsive.” Her face brightened. “You’ll see him tonight.”

***

    
Mom surprised me with a new outfit
that evening.
I drew in a deep, stunned breath at the sight of a blue and white floral dress waiting for me on my bed. After slipping it over my head, I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were the deepest shade of red. I slowly ran my hands down the dress. The material was soft, like spun sugar—as though one touch and it would dissolve into nothingness.

    
The doorbell rang at precisely six o’clock.
I was paralyzed by my emotions, incapable of answering the door.
Mom did the honors as I remained hidden in the kitchen.

    
“Alexa, Carter is here. Why don’t you come on out?”

    
My knees went soft, and
I had to force myself to breathe. I clutched the side of my dress, my nails inadvertently digging into the fabric, as I inched my way to the front door.
My cheeks went hot
the moment I saw Carter standing in the hallway. He wore khaki-colored pants and a crisp, forest-green polo shirt. Carter shot me a smile, and I returned it with a blushing grin.

    
“Alexa, don’t be rude,” Mom said. “Say hello.”

     I stood still, disoriented by the strange feelings churning inside me. Two years had passed since we’d first met. I didn’t understand why I was having butterflies.

  
“Hey,” I finally said in a high-pitched tone.

  
“Happy birthday, Alexa. Wow, I like your dress,” Carter said, his eyes dancing with delight.

   
“Oh, this is just too adorable. Let me go get my camera,” Mom said, scooting off.

    
We stood awkwardly at the doorway. “So—get anything cool for your birthday?” Carter asked amid the silence.

   
“Not really. Just some girls’ stuff,” I murmured.

     “Okay, I’m back,” Mom said, fumbling around with the camera. “Alexa stand in front of the door. Carter, if you could get right next to her. I just want a couple of shots before we go.”

    
Our arms touched and my heart thumped harder than ever before.

     
I enjoyed all the attention, but after Mom took about a dozen shots, I grew impatient. “Mom, can we go now?”

   
“Of course, honey.” The hurt in her voice took me by surprise. “We’ll get going right now.”

    
“Thank you for driving us tonight, Mrs. Moore,” Carter said, opening the front door for us like a true gentleman.

    
“Such a nice boy,” Mom whispered in my ear.

      I digested how different Carter was from the best friend I’d known for the past couple of years. I blinked the blink of someone meeting a person for the very first time. Be cool, I reminded myself, it’s just Carter. We were just two friends going out for a friendly birthday dinner—nothing suggestive and nothing romantic.

***

    
A
burnt orange color
had
kissed the horizon
when we pulled up to Chris Morton’s Sunset Grill.
I gazed out over the coast of Newport Beach,
and surveyed
the front of the restaurant. The place had a modern western appearance with white stucco walls and pale wood paneling.

     “Okay, you two have fun. Stay out of
trouble please,” Mom mentioned as she pulled
into a parking spot. “I’ll be back around nine.” She shot us a rather nervous smile. “Just meet me in the front.”

    
All of my senses became sharp and acute
the moment I stepped out of the car.
The smell of salt and the ocean mist coated the familiar night air.

     Carter led the way to the entrance and said, “You’re gonna love this place.”

     A dark-haired hostess greeted us once we entered the lobby. “Good evening. How many in your party tonight?”

     “I have a reservation for two under the name of Storm.”

     An enigmatic expression veiled her eyes. “Two?” she asked as though he misspoke.

     “Yes, two,” Carter repeated. “Can we sit by a window please?”

     
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, casting a disparaging glance at us and
then
quickly ambling off.

   
My eyes flickered about the crowded restaurant. Conversation swirled around me, making it hard to hear my own thoughts. The place was packed with couples and groups of people awaiting tables. I felt like a fish out of water. A few of them stared at us as though we were two lost toddlers in search of our parents.

  
“Are you okay?” Carter asked.

 
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little hungry.” I breathed in deeply. The lingering scent of smoky mesquite wood chips had my stomach rumbling. “It smells so good in here.”

  
“Storm party of two,” the hostess called out.

    
We weaved our way through the crowd. It seemed like we walked a mile before the hostess pointed to a table situated some distance from the others. Lucky for us, we got a booth with
a panoramic view of the coast where we could almost hear the surf.

    
Chris Morton’s had a dreamlike intensity
on the inside.
A primal sort of energy charged the atmosphere. Dim lighting and dark, rich furnishings gave the place a modern and cozy feeling. The elegant and unique paintings of cowboys and ranches hanging on the beige walls grabbed my attention.

    
“This place is really nice, Carter. How many times have you actually been here?”

      
His expression turned somber. “Well, there was a Chris Morton’s in Seattle. My dad used to take us there.”

    
A cold feeling descended on me. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his father on his own since the night I found him crying in the bathroom.

    
“Have you heard anything from him?” I asked, guardedly.

     “It’s a long story,” he said, casting an empty gaze down into his fancy crystal glass
of ice water. “I really just—I don’t want to talk about it.”

    
The situation had grown increasingly disheartening, knowing Carter hadn’t seen his father in two years. At the present time, no one had a clue where his father
had
disappeared to.

    
I picked up my menu and scanned it warily. “So what’s good here?” I asked, changing the subject to something more cheery.

     “Everything,” Carter said, focusing intently on the menu.

      “I think I know what I want.”

     “Me too,” Carter said, sucking down the rest of his ice water.

  
“Hi there. You two ready to order, or should we wait for your parents?” asked our skinny brunette waitress. She wore black pants and a white long-sleeved silk blouse.

     I quickly retorted, “Actually, we’re not here with our parents.”

     Suspicion quickened in her expression. “So, are you two, like, on a date?” she asked with a slight chuckle.

     “Is there something wrong with that?” Carter reprieved.

     “Well, aren’t you two a little young to be on a date? What are you, sixth graders or something?”

     Resentment straightened
my spine, and
I replied, “No.”

     “Aw. Oh my Gosh, is this like your first date together?”

     “Yes,” Carter answered immediately.

     “Really? That’s so cute.”

     “Can we just order now?” I asked. “We’re kinda hungry.”

      “Oh yes, sorry. What can I get you?” She pulled out a pad of paper from her black apron and snapped back to attention.

     “I’ll have the New York steak, medium rare,” Carter said, handing over his menu. “Oh, and can I get a Roy Rogers please?”

     “Certainly,” she replied, scribbling on her pad of paper. “And for you, sweetie?”

     I picked what any typical fourteen-year-old girl would pick at a four-star steak house. “I’ll have the cheeseburger with French fries.”

     “Oh, and it’s her birthday,” Carter mentioned.

    
My heart clenched into a fist. “Carter,” I said, gently kicking him underneath the table.