Last Train Home (7 page)

“Not before we eat cake!” Mandy exclaimed as she walked into the game room holding the birthday cake she’d brought with her.

Jesse turned to look at her and rolled his eyes, but then smiled and I knew deep down he appreciated what she’d done for him.

Chapter Seven

I dawdled around the next morning having slept in till nearly ten o’clock.  I’d gotten home right before midnight, so my mom couldn’t say anything about me being late, even though I knew it drove her nuts when I cut it close to curfew.  I was convinced she was just waiting for me to make a mistake so she could pounce on me, grounding me for however long she wanted, which would be yet another way for her to ruin my life. 

I walked downstairs, still in my pajamas.  My hair was a wild mess and it spilled down my back in sloppy, dark mats.  My grandma was playing solitaire at the kitchen table and my mom was washing dishes in the sink
.  I still couldn’t believe my grandma didn’t have a dishwasher.  Who didn’t have a dishwasher in the 21
st
century, or a computer for that matter?  I was beginning to go crazy with only having internet on my phone.  I’d open my laptop and stare at the icon at the bottom, searching for any unsecured networks I could bum a ride on the web from, but was always unsuccessful.  My mom had assured me she’d be calling the cable company to get the internet set up, but she’d yet to do so. 

She turned and stared at me, her hands full of su
ds when she heard me walk in. 

“We’re going to Mike and Debbie’s for dinner tonight,” she said as she dried her hands on a flour-sack dish towel on which my grandma had embroidered a chicken wearing an apron.

“Can’t make it,” I said, walking over and pouring myself a bowl of Lucky Charms.  I’d loved them as a kid and my grandma had filled the cupboard with them once she’d learned I was coming.  There had to have been at least ten boxes on my first morning.  The count was now down to eight and half.

“What do you mean you can’t make it?” she asked
, looking at me with obvious disappointment.

“I’m going out tonight,” I answered carrying my bowl over to the table and sitting down next to my grandma.  She smiled at me and patted my shoulder.

“You went out last night,” my mom pointed out.

“I k
now.  But I’m going out again.”

“With who
?”

“I’m going out
with Alex Bettencourt,” I said, giving her a first and last name before she could badger me for more details.

“Alex Bettencourt?
  Is he Joe Bettencourt’s son?”

“I don’t know,” I said and as I heard the words come out of my mouth I realized they were much snottier than they needed to be
, but that didn’t stop me. “I just met him.  How should I know?”

“I was just asking a question,” she said
, throwing the dish towel on the counter and walking out of the room. 

I sat in silence, eating cereal and watching m
y grandmother’s solitaire game.

“You could try being a little nicer to your mother,” she said as she added the six of hearts to the pile at the top of her game. “She loves you and she’s a good mother.”

I just looked over at her and frowned.

“I
’m mad at her,” I said quietly.

“I know you didn’t want to come here, but you need to give her a break.  Sometimes things which seem awful at first really turn out for the best.”

“How could this be what’s best for us?  How’s this best for me?”

“There are jus
t things you don’t understand.”

“You know, my mom said the same thing.  Why doesn’t some
one explain it to me so I can understand?”

“Things aren’t always that simple
, Riley.  You’re seventeen.  You think life is easy and making decisions are easy.  But they aren’t always.  Your mom struggled with the decision to come here.  She didn’t want to upset you, but she needed to do what was right for her too, for both of you, and this is what she thought was the right thing to do.”

“But she made that decision without even talk
ing to me,” I said resentfully.

“That’s becau
se she’s the parent.  Not you.”

My grandma’s voice was serious and curt.  I’d never heard her voice like that and I knew she was getting fed up with my attitude as well.

“Just cut her some slack and be nice for goodness sakes.  You were always such a good little girl,” she said as the usual sweetness returned to her voice.

“But I’m se
venteen now and I’ve grown up.”

“Then start acting like it,” she said again and patted my hand.

****

I managed to avoid my mom the rest of the day.  She
was out running errands and was just coming home as I was getting ready to go out with Alex.  As I stood in the mirror running the flat iron over my dark hair, I thought of him and how his dusty hair fell so mysteriously into his eyes.  He kind of reminded me of James Dean: rugged, misunderstood and sexy.  I was excited to see him, but I couldn’t let him know that, I reminded myself.  A guy could never know you were into him, well, too much anyway.  Mystery was key.

I was sitting on the couch when I heard his car pull up to the house.  I glanced down at my outfit, a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved lavender shirt with a scoop neck, and hoped it was alluring enough to keep his interest, but innocent enough for him to realize I wasn’t going to put out. 

I jumped up from the couch when I heard the engine stop and slipped on my coat and grabbed my purse.

“What are you doing?” my mom asked
from her perch on the recliner.

“I’m leaving,” I said in a tone that showed I’d completely ignored the conversation I’d had earlier with my grandmother.

“Not before I meet this Alex.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am serious.”

“C’mon
, Mom.  This isn’t 1955.  You don’t need to meet my gentleman caller.  I suppose you want to chaperone too.”

My sarcasm was so sharp I was afraid it might literally cut one of us.  My mom was gritting her teeth and I knew I’d crossed the line.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, knowing if I didn’t apologize she’d probably cause a scene in front of Alex and wouldn’t let me go.

“I’d just like to meet
who you’re going out with,” she said as the doorbell rang.  My plan hadn’t worked anyway.  He was at the door, so I had to introduce them now.  I had no choice.

I opened the door and smiled at Alex.  He ran a hand through his hair and I watched as it fell back into his eyes.
His faded jeans were loose.  He’d rolled the sleeves of his black button up shirt to his elbows and my eyes were drawn to his strong, tan arms.

“Hey,” he said with that half-smile I’d noticed when I first met him.

“Hi,” I said back and then grimaced. “My mom wants to meet you.”

I moved aside and he stepped into the house, gently touching my shoulder as he passed me.  He looked calm and relaxed and he smiled at both my mom and my grandma.  My mom stood up and Alex went over and shook her hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Regas.  It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too
, Alex,” she said and I couldn’t help but laugh inside at how formal this whole ordeal had become. 

“Well, now that you two have met, we should get going,” I said and I motioned towards the door.

“Where’re you headed to tonight?” my grandma piped in from the couch.  I sighed because I knew this introduction was going on longer than I was comfortable with, but Alex turned and smiled at her.

“We’re going over to the batting cages off of
Jefferson Street,” he told her.

“Oh, sounds like fun,” she replied.

“Alex,” my mom broke in. “Riley tells me your last name is Bettencourt.  Any relation to Joe Bettencourt?”

“Yeah,
he’s my dad.  Do you know him?”

“We actually went out a couple of times in high school,” she said and then she and Alex both started laughing.  I felt myself cringe.  How awkward was this?  I was going out with my mom’s old boyfri
end’s son.  Creepy.  “How is he…and your mom of course?”

“They’re good.  Dad’s jus
t working at his law practice.”

“I’d heard he became a lawyer,” she said and then sat back down on the recliner. “Well, tell him I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“Alright,” I said
, rubbing my hands together uncomfortably. “You wanna get going, Alex?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, putting
his hand on the small of my back as he led me to the door. “It was nice meeting you both,” he said as we walked out, but I didn’t say a word.

I looked at the black Nissan Altima that was sitting in
front of the house.  It was much nicer than most of the cars I’d seen in the parking lot of Carver High School and I concluded Mr. Bettencourt must do pretty well with his law firm.

“Sorry about that,” I said as Alex drove away from the house.

“Sorry about what?”

“My mother.
  She insisted on meeting you,” I said with an eye roll.

“Don’t worry about it.  I figured she would.  That’s
kinda weird though about our parents, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, totally weird.
  It’s a little disturbing actually.”

“I think it’s
kinda funny.  Like we were fated to meet or something,” he said, looking over at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Sure
,” I said sarcastically. “It was destiny that my parents broke up and due to my mother’s mid-life crisis, which is the only reasonable explanation I can think of to explain this relocation, we moved to the exciting city of Carver.”

“Now you’re j
ust being rude,” he laughed.

“Sorry.  I’m still mad at her for ripping me away from all my friends and my life.  Try not to take it personally.”

I looked over to him and our eyes met.  He gently placed his hand over mine and then started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Seeing as how you could spit from one end of
Carver and hit the other side, it didn’t take us long to get to the batting cages.  The place was busy, but it looked like it might be fun.  We went inside to pay and then we both took a helmet and a bat.

“Now this must be attractive,” I said as I pulled t
he old black helmet on my head.

“It’s totally hot,” Alex laughed,
helping me push the helmet all the way down and then put his on. “And now we’re the sexiest couple here.” 

We both laughed and then stepped into the battin
g cage we’d been assigned to. 

“Have you ever played?” he asked as
he twirled the bat in his hand.

“Not real
ly. I’m more of a soccer girl.”

“Well, let’s see what you can do,” he said
, leaning against the cage and watching as I stepped up to the plate.

I felt silly because I hadn’t swung a bat since my dad had signed me up for t-ball when I was five.  I hadn’t been good then either, hence the switch to soccer. 

“You ready?” he called.

“Yeah,” I called back.  He put a token into the machine and before I was ready, a ball came whizzing past me.  I didn’t even make an attempt to swing.  My head just zipped around and stared at where the ball had landed.

“You’ve gotta swing, Riley!” Alex laughed.

“Hey!  I’m just warming up,” I said as I squared around and stared into the black hole of the pitching machine.  Another ball
came flying towards me and I swung as hard as I could, but all I hit was air.

“Impressive!”

“Gimme a chance!” I yelled as I prepared myself again, but once more it zoomed past me without making contact.  Now I was starting to get embarrassed.

“You’re swinging too late,” Alex said, finally stepping in
to help. “Here, watch me.”

I stepped back and he squared up, concentrating on the pitching machine.  The ball
flew out and before it went past him, I heard the loud metal clank of the bat and ball connecting as he hit a line drive.  Another ball flew out and he hit that one with ease too.

“Than
ks for showing me up,” I joked.

“I’m not showing you up.  I’m just showing you how to do
it.  Why don’t you try again?”

He stepped bac
k and I returned to the plate.

“You need to
choke up on the bat some more.”  He stepped towards me and moved my hands so they were higher up on the neck of the bat. “Does that feel better?” I nodded and he continued. “Now spread your feet apart some more,” he said as he inched my feet apart with his.  He stood closely behind me and as I felt his arms wrap around me until both of our hands were gripping the bat, I couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled.

“Here it comes.  Just keep you
r eye on the ball.  You ready?”

I nodded and stared hard ahead of me as I waited for the ball.  It came flying out and then, with
Alex’s help, I swung the bat and I realized I’d hit it when I felt the sting on my hand when the bat and ball connected.