I’ll Meet You There (23 page)

They could only mean one thing, those boxes—but where could we possibly go?

“Mom?” I called.

Her bedroom door was shut, and I heard laughter and the thud of a bottle hitting the
floor.

“Coming!” Her voice was muffled, but the plywood was thin, and I could hear the clink
of Billy’s belt as he put it on.

I turned around. “Josh, you’d better—”

And even as his eyes were saying a resolute
no
, the door opened and out walked Billy, shirtless, and my mom, wearing her threadbare
bathrobe. My
dad’s
bathrobe.

“Hey, baby,” she said. Her eyes were a little unfocused, and her smile faded when
she saw Josh behind me.

“Hi,” she said, her voice flat. She’d never liked the Mitchells. She used to say they
were white trash—looked like the shoe was on the other foot now.

“Hello, ma’am. Good to see you.”

“Ma’am?” she said, then giggled.
Giggled.

I felt Josh stiffen behind me. “He’s just being polite, Mom.”

He’d been the same way with Marge—I figured it was a military thing, because he never
used to talk like that. But it was nice, and I was embarrassed for my mom. In all
the years of being broke and dealing with her crap, I’d never once been ashamed of
her. Until now.

Mom frowned, and Billy shuffled over to the fridge to grab a beer. For a minute, the
four of us just stood there, none of us belonging.

In the truck with Josh, I’d almost forgotten my horrible afternoon. But now it all
came rushing back, and my bones were heavy with failure.

“Home from the war, huh?” Billy said, cracking open the can. His toenails were too
long, all yellowed and broken at the ends. How could my mom share her bed with those
feet?

“Yep,” was all Josh said. No
sir
for Billy, I noticed.

“That’s a real shame about your leg,” Mom said. She looked down at Josh’s prosthesis
and shuddered a little. I wanted to dig my own grave, then throw myself in it. Why
had I let him come in?

“Anyway, I was just getting us some Cokes and then we’re gonna go over to Dylan’s
for a bit.” I looked at Josh, a question—a desperate plea—in my eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, not missing a beat. He checked his watch. “Better hurry. She’s probably
waiting.”

I gave him a grateful smile, then turned back to my mom.

“What’s up with the boxes?”

She flushed and looked at Billy. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well … Billy’s…”
She coughed and motioned to her bedroom. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Um.”

I looked back at Josh, and he put a hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

I nodded and followed my mom into her dimly lit room. It smelled like sex and booze—I
didn’t even know what sex smelled like, but, suddenly, I just
knew
. I felt nauseated, like the world had started spinning a little too fast on its axis.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

But I knew. Of course I knew.

She smiled, but it wasn’t her real smile. It was too bright, and somehow apologetic
and defiant at the same time. “Billy’s moving in.”

I could feel the WHAT THE FUCK look on my face, my jaw dropping in an almost comical
way.

“No,” I said.

“Baby, he’s gonna help us pay the rent and—”

“So, what, you’re, like, some prostitute now? He pays rent, and you—”

Her hand flew up, and it was hitting my cheek before I could duck out of the way.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she growled.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick. My ear started to ring, and my cheek stung.

And I was. I knew this wasn’t her. We weren’t that family—the screaming, hitting kind—never
had been. This was a drunk, depressed woman, and soon she’d see that this was all
a mistake, and how could I have called my own mother a prostitute?

Insane. I was going insane.

“Mom, I can cover the rent. I’ve got the job at the gas station and—”

“You’re going to college. Then what will I do? I’m being realistic, Sky.”

I shook my head, which was starting to throb, and lowered my voice so that Josh couldn’t
hear us. “I’ll stay. I’m staying. We don’t need him, Mom.”

She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off her bedside table and lit one. I noticed that
her hands were shaking the tiniest bit, but I wouldn’t help her light it.

“You can’t give me everything I need, baby.”

I had two choices: sad or angry. I turned around and opened the door, letting it slam
against the bedroom wall. In the living room, Josh and Billy were standing close,
in each other’s faces. I’d opened the door just in time to hear Josh say, “Touch her,
and I will personally fuck you up.”

They turned to look at me, Josh’s eyes immediately settling on my bright red cheek.
A muscle twitched near his jaw. I caught his eye and shook my head. It seemed like
he’d gotten taller while I was in the bedroom, and his eyes had taken on a hawkish,
focused intensity that was more than a little intimidating. I was seeing Josh Mitchell
the Marine for the first time. It wasn’t hard to imagine him with a gun in his hands.

Billy’s oily smile fell on me. “Now, honey—”

“I’m paying the rent now,” I said. “And I say you’re not moving in.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Skylar,” he said.

I heard my mother come up behind me. “Mom,” I said, turning to her. “
Please
.”

She just stood there, a shell of the woman who used to come home with cinnamon twists
and soft tacos for us to share while I told her about my day. Finally, she shrugged
her shoulders.

“This is for the best,” she said. “You’ll see.”

“How could this possibly be for the best? Mom…”

“You’ll see,” she repeated.

I felt my cell buzz in my pocket, and I knew it was Dylan, who was supposed to go
on a date that she really needed and deserved, and who was waiting for me to take
care of her son. This situation with my mom wasn’t something I could fix in a night—Billy
was halfway moved in, and neither of them was sober. Someone had to be the adult here,
and as usual, it was going to be me.

“Josh, I’m just gonna grab some stuff—give me a sec?”

He nodded, and I pushed past my mom to my bedroom. I yanked clothes off hangers without
looking at them and stuffed them into a bag. Then I put my laptop under my arm because
I didn’t trust Billy not to hock it. It was a cheap piece of crap that I’d bought
after a year of saving, but I bet a pawnshop would give him enough for a few cases
of beer. I threw a few things from the bathroom into my bag, then went back into the
living room.

“Where are you going?” my mom asked.

“Do you care?”

“
Skylar.
” She raised her hands, palms up, like I was being difficult.

I walked to the front door and opened it. The heat of the day had faded, and a slightly
cool breeze was tickling the trees that stood behind our trailer and blocked it from
the highway. Billy came up to me, his hand out like he wanted a hug or something.
Josh stiffened, and I hit Billy’s hand back before Josh could make good on the threat
I’d overheard. I could handle Billy myself.

“You’re not my father. You never will be.”

He ran his tongue over his lips and just stared at me, and I couldn’t move until Josh
came to my side and grabbed the bag out of my hand. He shot Billy a loaded look, then
put a hand on my back. “Ready?” he murmured.

No.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I walked out the door, and Josh closed it behind him. I stopped on the last step and
just stared ahead of me. Not seeing anything. I gripped the cheap metal handrail as
all that resolve I’d shown inside slipped away.
Now what?

Josh came down and stood in front of me. “Hey,” he said, soft.

I shook my head. If I spoke, I’d cry and Billy would hear, and that would mean he’d
won. So I stood there. I couldn’t move—as if taking that last step would mean I’d
never go back.

I looked down at him, and the moment our eyes met, he reached up and pulled me against
him.

“You did good,” he whispered.

The shock of his body against mine paralyzed me for a second, but then I buried my
face in his neck and tightened my arms around him, breathing in his cologne, his Joshness.
His breath caught, and he gripped me tighter. The whole day swept through me in one
shudder, and he held me, even though the tears that had sneaked out were soaking his
shirt.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. His lips brushed my hair. “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

My blood racing, his heart pounding against my chest, I lifted my head and pressed
my lips against his cheek. It was warm and scruffy, and I wanted to do it again and
again, but I didn’t. I felt him smile.

“Thanks for having my back,” I said.

“Any time.”

Then he let go, keeping his arm around my shoulders as he led me across the street
to Dylan’s. When he handed me my bag, his fingers brushed against mine, and I held
them for a second. Glanced at him.

The door swung open, and Dylan looked from me to Josh, her eyes going wide. I let
go of his hand, but I could tell she’d seen all she needed to.

“What happened?” she asked.

I could feel Josh beside me, and it felt like he belonged there. “Everything.”

chapter twenty-one

I leaned over the boxes of fresh-picked strawberries at my favorite roadside stand,
scanning the speckled skin for any imperfections. Dylan and Chris were farther down
the table, looking at some of the vegetables, but all I wanted were the strawberries.

The woman behind the plywood counter had turned her newspaper into a fan, her brown
eyes squinting against the sun as she watched the workers in the field beside her.
A battery-operated radio played love songs in Spanish, and Chris hummed along. I inhaled
the sweet scent of the berries, content.

They were beautiful—lush and red, the same color as Josh’s truck. It was hard to believe
anything so delicate could grow in this heat, but they loved it. They were part of
this place, part of the dusty earth and hazy blue skies of Creek View.

“I’ll take this one,” I said to the woman behind the table.

“Four dollars.” Her accent was heavy, like Chris’s dad’s.

She grabbed the tray holding three tiny green baskets overflowing with fruit and put
them in a used grocery sack while I fished around in my pockets, looking for the ten-dollar
bill I’d brought with me.

“Your dad working today?” Dylan asked Chris as she chose her own box.

He nodded. “Yeah, but he’s up at the cucumber place. Man, I can’t wait until I start
making some real money so he doesn’t have to do that shit anymore. His back’s all
jacked up.”

“Soon,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze.

I grabbed another box of berries to bring to the motel for Marge as a thank-you—she’d
been letting me sleep in one of the rooms for the past week. I kept trying to pay
her rent, but she always refused. She’d jokingly referred to it as an “employee benefit.”
At first, I’d felt weird around Marge, knowing about her son. It had been an easy
secret for her to keep: he’d killed himself in Ohio, before Marge moved to California
and bought the Paradise. I wanted to reach out to her somehow, but there was no way
I could make up for what happened to him. And I had to trust that she was dealing.
Her kindness, her booming laugh, and the way she took care of me … I decided Marge
was made of steel. Under that skin was a fortress.

“Those for Marge?” Dylan asked. I nodded.

“I wish you would come stay at my place,” Chris said. “I told you, Olivia can sleep
on the floor. She’ll think it’s a sleepover—six-year-olds love that kind of stuff.”

“I know, but I just have this thing about Shrek sheets.”

Chris snorted. “Whatever.”

The truth was, I liked being on my own. I’d thought I’d cry myself to sleep every
night, missing Mom and feeling homeless, but the only time I did was when I thought
about having to go back and live in the trailer for good.

I slung the bag of strawberries over my arm and held out my hands for Sean so Dylan
could pay for her food.

“Hey, which meal plan did you pick for San Fran?” Chris asked.

“Haven’t decided,” I said. “What do you think about going to Bakersfield to see a
movie tonight?”

“Uh, sure. Okay, but wait. I’m seriously concerned about the meal plans at BU—”

“Oh my God, taste these strawberries,” Dylan moaned.

“Did you just have an orgasm, like, right here in front of us?” I asked, ignoring
Chris’s question and pretending to shield Sean from Dylan.

“Oh, yeah,” she said.

Sean wriggled in my arms, his eyes on the strawberries. Dylan held a mushy one up
to him, and he sucked on it.

“Aw! His first strawberry,” she said, her voice tender. Sean beamed, swatting at the
bright red juice that covered his face. “Chris, take a picture.”

Chris pulled out his phone. “Sean, my man, we are
totally
gonna show this to your first girlfriend,” he said.

“No doubt. I’ll be humiliating him as much as possible.” Dylan leaned down and kissed
Sean’s face. As he let out a happy shriek, I buried my nose in his fuzzy hair. I loved
his baby powder smell—it seemed to make the world right, just for a moment.

“I sort of want to eat him. Is that wrong?” I asked.

Dylan shook her head and reached out to wipe at Sean’s face with a tissue. “I want
to about ten times a day.”

Sean reached for her, whining in a cute kind of way until Dylan scooped him up.

“I’m gonna call Child Protective Services on your ass,” Chris said. “Humans aren’t
supposed to eat their young.”

“Yeah, I’ll get some kind of citation for giving my kid too many kisses.”

I watched her twirl him around, both of them smiling and laughing. Somehow, things
had worked out. When she’d first gotten pregnant, we’d all thought it was the end
of the world. And I knew there were days when it was hard as hell, but it had turned
out, she survived.