I’ll Meet You There (19 page)

I crossed my arms and dug my fingers into my ribs to keep from crying. I stared at
her for a long moment, then grabbed my keys and my wallet. I made sure to slam the
door behind me.

A breeze had picked up outside and a dusty sunset lingered in the sky. I was free
for the night, but I didn’t know what to do with myself. I sat in my car, taking deep
breaths, trying to remember what it felt like to throw a glass bottle. Was she kicking
me out for a few hours, or for good? I knew which one Billy would prefer.

Dylan didn’t answer when I called—she was probably working. I dialed Chris.

“What you need,” he said, “are some seriously good burritos.”

“This is your answer to my life crisis?”

Long pause, then, “Just come over.”

As soon as I got to his house, his mom sent us to Market to grab some Cokes. On the
way there, I told Chris what had happened at home.

He shook his head. “Sounds like she’s having a total breakdown.”

“Yeah, I
know
. She’s like a completely different person.”

He pulled into the little parking lot in front of the bodega and shut off the engine.
“Okay. Let’s take this step by step—”

“Chris, my life is not an equation or a word problem, okay? It sucks to the tenth
power—that’s all you need to know!”

I was shaking, literally shaking, and I couldn’t stop. Didn’t people only do that
in movies?

“Come here,” Chris said, his voice soft.

He reached over and hugged me, and I wasn’t going to cry, I wasn’t. That wouldn’t
solve anything. I closed my eyes until the tears retreated down my throat and back
into my chest, where they seemed to live these days.

Chris squeezed me, and I squeezed him back before I pulled away. “It’s gonna be okay,
chica
. Trust me. You’re getting out of here, one way or another. But you need a day off:
just one to have fun and chill out. Can we do that?”

I nodded.

“Come on, let’s get these Cokes and go back home.”

“Okay.”

I wanted to argue with him, but the truth was, I needed a day off from the mess that
was my life. I stepped out of the truck and slammed the door behind me. I heard a
whistle and turned around. Josh and a bunch of people he’d graduated with were standing
outside, drinking out of bottles covered with small brown paper bags.

“Garcia! What’s up, man?” one of the guys yelled. He was looking at Chris and me with
a dirty grin. He must have been the one that whistled.

“David. What up?” Chris walked over to them, and I followed with a reluctant shuffle.

Josh nodded to me but kept talking to some girl that we’d gone to school with. Stacie.
Or Stephanie. Something like that. She had big boobs and long red hair. And his finger
was hooked into one of the belt loops on her tiny jean shorts. For a second, it was
the only thing I could see.

“You guys together now or what?” asked David.

I looked away from Josh and shook my head. “Friends.”

“With benefits,” said some other guy. He was one of those white guys who tried to
look all hip-hop, with a gold chain and baggy shorts that showed off most of his faded
boxers. Chris just rolled his eyes at me as if to say,
Morons
.

I said “Shut up” at the same time that Josh said “Don’t be a dick.” He didn’t look
at me, and I didn’t look at him. The wannabe gangster laughed and gulped his beer.

I couldn’t figure out where the whole “with benefits” comment came from until I realized
that from where they were standing, it must have looked like Chris and I had been
making out in the truck. Shit. Josh probably thought—wait, I didn’t care. Did I?

“I’m gonna go inside,” I said.

Here I was, worrying about what Chris and I had looked like in the truck when what
I really needed to be focusing on was the fact that my mother was losing her mind.
And how was I suddenly caring about Creek View sexual politics? I was getting out.
This crap shouldn’t rattle me. But was I getting out? I crossed over to the sodas
and yanked open the door to the refrigerated section, closing my eyes as the cold
air blasted me. The bells on the door jingled as someone came inside.

“Hey.” Chris grabbed a couple two-liter bottles of Coke, and I shut the door. “Those
guys are idiots—just ignore them.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing,” I said, my voice hard.

“You are. I’m just saying, you know, screw them.” He rolled his eyes. “You wanna know
what they were talking about?”

“Something obnoxious?”

“They went cow tipping last night.
Cow tipping.
”

“That’s a new low for the youth of Creek View,” I said.

“Dude, I can’t get out of here soon enough.”

We paid for the Cokes, and I tried not to look like I was in too much of a hurry,
but when we got back outside, Josh’s truck was gone.

So was the redhead.

JOSH

Her name is Shannon and her skin’s like milk with flakes of cinnamon in it and she’s
pressed up against me and it feels good, I guess, I mean it should, and she whispers
in my ear that her parents aren’t home and fuck it Skylar’s obviously into that Chris
dude, I saw them in his sorry excuse for a truck, should have totaled it when I had
the chance, so what the hell am I waiting for and I just say,
Okay, cool
, and we get to her house and I’m kissing her like what Skylar said about her and
Blake—to forget, like I need a body—and I can’t believe he felt her up and what did
she do to him, doesn’t matter, and I kiss this girl, kiss her hard, bite her lips
and her neck and she moans, but she tastes like beer and cigarettes and I bet Skylar
tastes sweet, like the powdered sugar on those little white doughnuts and I shouldn’t
be thinking about Skylar, not when this girl’s hand is in my pants and—fuck—it’s been
so long, but I can’t. I want this but I don’t want her. I close my eyes and try to
relax,
relax, goddammit, relax.
This used to be so easy why isn’t it easy and my hands are on her breasts, which
feel good, I mean, I’m not fucking gay so they feel really good and I don’t deserve
Skylar, never will, so I should just go for this because she’s going for Chris and
this girl says to me, she says to me,
I’ll do anything you want.

And that’s it.

My hands fall from her chest and I go,
What did you say?
And she says,
I’ll do anything you want,
and I pull her hand out of my pants and back away and almost trip on her shoes that
she’d kicked off and I keep saying,
Sorry, sorry,
and I get myself out of her room, her house, and I don’t look back because you know
what I’m thinking about, don’t you? That woman running out of her hut and waving her
arms around and screaming,
I’ll do anything you want
—how the hell’d she know English?—and we had to take her son anyway because he was
killing our guys with his little homemade bombs and the look on her face … I drive
away fast and I go to my favorite spot off the highway and I sit in my truck until
the sky turns black. I keep replaying the whole thing in my head, how I couldn’t get
it up and what the hell does that mean, isn’t there enough wrong with me already?
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do this again. Be close to someone. Maybe it’s
a punishment, I don’t know. I don’t deserve to be here and I’m a worthless piece of
shit so yeah, me not being able to get it up just evens the scales a little bit more.
Just a little bit, though. Why did I make it when so many other guys got wasted? And
now it’s like I lost a leg and gained another fuckin’ eye that’s letting me see everything
in this totally new, crappy light and all this shit that used to make me
me
I either can’t do or is so fucking stupid—God, what’s the point of me? I just want
to go back, man. I want to be on post—I don’t care how boring it is. All I need is
my gun and the guys and it doesn’t matter anymore that everything there is sad and
hopeless and dead or dying. It’s like that here too.

chapter seventeen

Chris’s neighborhood started celebrating the Fourth early. The people up the street
were blasting mariachi music, and every now and then, there’d be the whine and fizzle
of fireworks from the middle of the street. The air smelled like barbecue and sulfur
and the kind of wild abandon you can only have on holidays. It wasn’t completely dark
yet, but it had finally cooled down enough for us to be outside for extended periods
of time. Dylan, Chris, and I were in his backyard lying on the trampoline, which floated
on a sea of discarded toys and failed gardening attempts. I was in the middle, wishing
I could bottle up the feel of their warmth, a
thereness
I wouldn’t have come September. Dylan’s long hair was tickling my arm, and every
time Chris laughed, his foot would knock into mine. We elbowed and slapped each other,
snorted with laughter. It was hard to imagine I could have this with new college friends.
Already these moments were few and far between, now that Dylan was a mom.

She looked over at us. “Do you remember when we saw that shooting star?”

“It was awesome,” I said.

Chris nodded. “True that.”

Sixth grade, Halloween. I was Van Gogh (which nobody got and everyone thought was
weird), Dylan was a sexy witch, and Chris was a ninja. We’d been lying on the trampoline,
just like we were now, but holding hands because we’d heard a freaky noise in the
neighbor’s backyard. Then we saw it—the flash, a yellow-whiteness that streaked across
the sky like it was trying not to be seen. As if we’d caught angels playing tag.

Now we lay there, older but maybe not wiser, staring up at the sky and watching dusk
crawl in for the night shift.

“Haven’t seen one since,” Dylan said, her voice flat.

I closed my eyes. “Nope.”

We lay there, that memory and all the years that followed hovering above us.

Chris sat up. “Speaking of falling stars: did I tell you guys I’m taking an astronomy
class next semester? It’s gonna be so badass. There’s actually a ton of math, which
most people don’t know—they think it’s just stargazing, but there’s this whole lab
component where we—”

Dylan held up her hand. “Is this going to involve big, scientific words? Because if
it is, I’m gonna go pee.”

I was tempted to join her. Every time Chris mentioned school, I felt like I was outside
the window of a toy shop, looking in at all the stuff I couldn’t have.

He stood and started jumping, soft at first, then harder. “What’s that? Your bladder’s
full? You have to
pee
? Wow, you must be really uncomfortable right now.”

“Christopher! What the hell?” Dylan yelled. “Grow up.
Jesus.
” But she was smiling as she reached out and tried to grip the side of the trampoline.

Chris laughed and spun in the air as he lifted himself higher and higher. Our bodies
jolted off the trampoline’s thick net, and I gasped, spreading my arms wide, like
Chris could catapult me into the sky. I closed my eyes, for once loving the sweet
terror of not knowing where I would land. Floating in the air, crashing back down,
Dylan beside me, the net always under me. I gave myself up to the free fall. No rules
or boundaries or barriers. The three of us let go and flew.

There was a thunk, barely heard over the squeaking of the springs, as Dylan’s oversized
purse slipped over the edge of the trampoline. Makeup, loose change, and a few of
Sean’s pacifiers spilled onto the grass beneath us, breaking the spell.

“My bag!” Dylan shrieked.

“Chill,” Chris said. He stopped his jumping and landed on the grass. “
Damn.
You carry this much crap around all the time?”

Dylan looked over at me, and I held up my hands. “You guys leave me out of it.”

She scooted over to the edge of the trampoline and swung off. “I gotta pick up Jesse
soon, anyway. You guys coming or what?”

Fireworks at the creek. I used to go with my parents when I was little, sitting on
my dad’s shoulders as the sky exploded all around me. Later, it became an annual thing
for Dylan, Chris, and me. It was the one Creek View party I actually liked.

But at one point or another, everyone from town would wind up there—which was exactly
why I wouldn’t be going tonight.

I shook my head, my good mood gone. “You guys go ahead. I should probably get home
to check on my mom.” I hoisted myself off the trampoline and slid my feet into my
flip-flops.

Dylan grabbed my hand. “She’s just gonna be in her room. Or with Billy.
Ugh.
Come on. I’m an independent mama tonight! I need me some Skylar time.”

Which was worse: Josh and the redhead or Mom and Billy?
Decisions, decisions.

She did a pouty face, and when I sighed, she knew she was winning me over. “Please?
You’ll feel better, seeing all those pretty lights.”

“My dad bought a bunch of sparklers,” Chris said. He gave me a semiparental look.
“And I distinctly remember you agreeing to one night of fun.”

I stared up at the lavender sky, my stomach pinching at the thought of being cooped
up in a trailer that smelled like stale cigarettes and old beer. If Mom even let me
in.

“I can’t believe she kicked me out,” I said, the anger flaring up again.

“Dude.” Chris put his hands on my shoulders. “One night of fun.”

Screw her. I didn’t deserve this shit.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But this party doesn’t really qualify as fun.”

Dylan threw her arm around my waist and gave me a viselike hug. “That’s the spirit.”

We drove to the creek after we picked up Jesse at the dairy factory where he worked,
filling up gallons of milk for eight to twelve hours a day. Chris and I sat in the
back of Dylan’s car, and as we sped along the highway, I’d catch myself watching the
way Jesse looked at Dylan. How he’d grab her hand and kiss it when he thought no one
was looking, or the way she’d lean into him when he was talking, like he was the only
person in the world. It wasn’t like they were perfect—they had epic arguments. Still.
It was like I was suddenly aware of this parallel universe made of iridescent bubbles
and stardust.