Let's Get Lost (3 page)

“Unbelievable.”

“It's a special gift.”

“That's special, all right,” he said, wondering what she'd stopped herself from saying on the stairs. “How'd you know I'm an only child?”

“We can smell our own,” she said with a wink.

Once inside his room, Leila went straight to his bookshelf, where his car magazines and the novels he'd read for school and liked enough to buy a copy were neatly stacked. Her back was to him, her figure silhouetted against the fading light so that she seemed a little less real, a little less like a beautiful girl who understood him standing in his room and more like an apparition that could dissipate at any second. He flicked the light switch on but said nothing, giving her space to explore. He didn't want her to seem like an apparition, wanted to keep her real for as long as possible.

“What's this?” she asked, grabbing a seashell he kept on his windowsill.

He walked closer to her. “That is a souvenir from the first time I went to the ocean. I was bodysurfing, you know, just enjoying getting the crap kicked out of me by the waves. And this one wave just grabs me and beats me down against the shore. I felt my forehead catch on something hard, harder than the sand. So I grabbed at it, and it was this seashell. I think you can still see the scar.” He pulled at his hair and tilted his head down so she could see.

She lifted her hand and ran a finger along the scar on his forehead. He could hear her breathing, could smell something sweet on her breath.

“Why'd you keep the seashell?”

“I don't know,” Hudson said. “I guess I just liked the idea of having a reminder from such a great day. I didn't want the scar to be the only thing I got to keep.”

Leila smiled, her finger no longer at the scar but dropping down, tracing his jawline. Her lips were parted just enough for him to see a thin, glimmering line of teeth set against the pink of her tongue.

Then the garage door rumbled beneath their feet, and Hudson heard his dad's Camaro pull into the driveway. Leila's hand dropped away, and Hudson took an instinctive step back, immediately regretting it. He wanted to grab Leila's hand and place it back on his cheek. Instead, he stood and listened to his dad making his way from the garage to the kitchen, feeling the moment slip away.

3

DOWNSTAIRS IN THE
kitchen, Hudson's dad was kneeling in front of the fridge, moving things around to make way for a case of soda.

“Hey, Pop,” Hudson said.

“Hey, son.” Hudson's dad finished up in the fridge before standing and turning around. His glance went to Leila. “Sorry, I didn't realize you had company.” He offered a smile, then stepped around them to leave the kitchen. “Do you mind getting the grill started? I'm gonna hop in the shower.” He took a step toward the stairs, then stopped and looked back at Leila. “You're welcome to stay for dinner, if you'd like.”

“I'd love to,” Leila said.

“Burgers okay?”

“Always,” she said. “Thank you, Mr....?”

“Call me Walter,” he said, offering his hand with a smile. Then he turned to Hudson. “You're gonna get some rest after dinner?”

“Of course. I was planning to sleepwalk all the way to Jackson so I could be as well-rested as possible before the interview.”

“You think you're clever, don't you? Just because you're going to be a doctor?”

“You think I'm clever, too, Dad. Ever since I taught you how to connect to wireless internet, you've considered me a genius.”

“Don't give this one any compliments,” Walter said to Leila, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. “He'll never forget them.” He was tall, still taller than Hudson but thinner, with wiry muscles. The rest of their features they shared: the same strong jaw and big brown eyes. Hudson thought of his dad as young, or at least not yet old, so it was a shock every time he noticed just how gray his hair had turned. “All right, I'll see you guys outside, then.”

When he was about halfway up the stairs, Leila called out, “You have a lovely home!”

“Thank you,” he called back, his voice fading as he climbed the stairs and closed his bedroom door.

“He's so sweet,” Leila said.

“Yeah,” Hudson said, picking at a splinter on a kitchen cabinet.

“What interview do you have to be well-rested for?”

“I have this interview with the dean of admissions at Ole Miss. It's to see if they're going to offer me a full scholarship.”

“Wow. That's impressive.”

Hudson shrugged. “I guess. My dad knows the guy, so he helped set up the interview, and that's why he's a little paranoid about it.” Not wanting to think about tomorrow, when Leila might no longer be around, Hudson moved toward the back door. “Let's get the grill going.”

Leila nodded and helped him grab a few things from the kitchen; then they went out to the backyard to light the charcoal. The air had cooled pleasantly with the oncoming dusk, only a few streaks of orange light breaking through gaps in the trees where cicadas buzzed. It was a large yard, the grass bright green and healthy. A toolshed stood in the middle, not far off from the fire pit that Walter had dug and lined with bricks. There were a few tree stumps and camping chairs gathered around the pit in a circle, a crushed beer can forgotten in the weeds from the last time his dad's friends had come over. Hudson wished that he had some ability to stop time, to hold the Earth's rotation, so that he could just stand near Leila for a little while longer.

“So, a doctor, huh?”

“Yeah, but it's not a big deal,” Hudson said. “Nothing like that seeing-through-doors trick.”

“Superpower, not a trick,” Leila corrected, grabbing a match and tossing it onto the pile of charcoal. “And I'm sure you have some powers of your own.”

“Not really.” At that moment, the only superpower he felt he had was that he could spend time with someone like Leila and have her want to stay around for dinner.

“Bullshit,” she said, giving him a friendly hip check. “Ranting,” she pointed out. “I could listen to you rant about treasures all day.”

Hudson tried and failed to keep the size of his smile under control, especially when he noticed that she was smiling back at him. “I'm also pretty damn good at setting a table,” he said, trying to draw attention away from his blushing. “I can do it with one hand. And I don't even have to look up online which side the knife is supposed to be on.”

“I knew you were holding out on me.”

“I'll show you,” he said, and he went about setting the table with an exaggerated care that he hoped was funny. Leila took a seat and watched him, a smile on her face. When he was done, he sat next to her as they waited for the coals to heat.

This was Hudson's favorite time of the year, favorite time of day, favorite spot of his house. It was the first time in a while that he was sitting there without a book in front of him. He'd almost forgotten how enjoyable his backyard was when he could simply sit and look around without having to study. Leila leaned back in her patio chair and put her legs up, resting her heels on Hudson's lap. She did it so casually that Hudson couldn't tell just what she meant by it; if she meant anything at all or if she just needed a place to rest her feet and made no distinction between him and any other surface. Or maybe, just maybe, she was as happy to be spending time with him as he was with her.

Hudson barely moved, focusing on the weight of her feet on his lap. By the time his dad joined them outside, Hudson's legs were falling asleep. “We were waiting for the coals to get hot,” Hudson said.

“Well, looks like they're just about ready to go,” Walter said, even though Hudson knew very well that they'd been ready for a while. Walter grabbed the tray of patties and put three down on the grill, smiling at the satisfying sizzle of the meat beginning to cook.

“Want some help, Pop?”

“I've got it, thanks.”

Other fathers might have turned around and winked at their son, or smiled. But Hudson liked his dad's reserved way of showing affection, the silent acceptance of cooking duties.

“So, Leila,” Walter asked when the burgers were ready, bringing them to the table, “Hudson tells me you're not from Vicksburg. What brings you over here?”

“I'm zigzagging my way up the country to go see the Northern Lights,” she said.

Walter picked at the label on his beer, peeling until the corner curled away from the glass. “That's one hell of a road trip. You're doing it by yourself?”

“Yup.” Leila nodded.

“Well, everyone needs at least one long road trip in their lives,” Walter said. “I was probably about your age when I did mine.”

“Where'd you go?”

“California to New York. Sea to shining sea.” He kept peeling the label off, lost in thought. His dad always got that look on his face when he talked about that road trip. Hudson had asked him about it more times than he could remember, but no matter how much Walter told him, Hudson could never really get a feel for what his dad had been like back then. It was strange to think that there was a part of his dad he'd never know, two whole decades' worth of memories that did not include Hudson.

“This kid hasn't taken one yet,” he said, snapping out of it and motioning toward Hudson.

“What are you talking about? I've been with you on tons of road trips.”

“Doesn't count,” Walter said, sipping from his beer. “On your own is what I meant. You get yourself a part-time job in college, something that won't get in the way of your studies, and maybe you'll save up enough to travel during the summers. And, if you really impress me with your grades”—Walter paused for effect—“I might give you a free oil change for your first trip.”

“Now I see where Hudson gets his wit,” Leila said, kicking Hudson playfully under the table.

He kicked back lightly, wishing that he was barefoot and then feeling a bit creepy for it. “Why the Northern Lights anyway?”

Leila shrugged. “It's just something I know I have to do.”

“Life to-do list sort of thing?”

“Something like that,” Leila said.

“Is this your first road trip?” Walter asked.

Leila took another bite of her burger. God, she was attractive even when she was chewing. It made Hudson want to cook for her. She gave a slight nod.

When she was done chewing, she took a sip of her soda and wiped at the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin. “I'm on a little break from school right now and thought it was a good time for some traveling.”

Hudson nodded, then realized he had no idea what that meant. “Like, college? Did you take a year off after high school?” It was hard to tell how old she was. Between sixteen and...twenty? Maybe?

“Nope.” She took the last bite of her burger, and for a second it seemed as if she'd done that so she wouldn't have to say anything else. Then she swallowed and said, “I've been stuck in kindergarten for years. This trip around the country is so I can finally learn the alphabet.”

As his dad chuckled, Leila smirked at Hudson, and he could feel her face etching itself into his memory.

“I'm kidding, Hudson. You haven't been hanging around with a kindergartner all day.”

“No? I could have sworn I was. Only kindergartners ever laugh at my jokes.”

“I could see that,” Leila said. “And kudos for not taking the opportunity to make fun of my height. I set it up perfectly.”

Hudson shrugged. “I like how short you are,” he said, immediately grabbing a chip from the open bag in the middle of the table and munching on it as a way to keep himself from apologizing for the comment.

The sky had darkened to night, and now the only light came from the pinprick stars and the neighbors' kitchens. But he could see Leila smiling to herself, biting her bottom lip. Then she leaned back in her chair and put her feet on his lap again.

“What are you planning to see along the way?” Walter asked, grabbing a second burger, dressing it with his usual half dozen squirts of hot sauce.

“I haven't really planned much out. I'm just going to play it by ear, see where I end up.”

“You've already seen Vicksburg,” Hudson said. “It's all downhill from here.”

Leila chuckled in a way he hadn't heard before, a laugh that was soft and throaty and that shocked Hudson into goose bumps. “I'm sure the rest of the country will have trouble living up,” she said.

After a few minutes, Walter got up to clear the table, and when he was inside, Leila pulled her feet off Hudson.

“I guess I should let you get some rest, then,” Leila said. “You've got that interview.” She slipped her feet back into the flip-flops and stood up.

The joy he'd felt since meeting her was slipping away, but Hudson didn't know what to say to stop her from leaving. He followed her as she walked to the sliding glass door that led back into the house. She didn't open the door, though, just stood there looking at her feet as if mulling over some thought.

The lights from the kitchen turned on as his dad started cleaning up inside. Hudson could see Leila clearly again, her hands in her back pockets, a half-inch strip of skin visible between her shirt and the waistline of her shorts. Then she stepped forward and pulled him in for a hug. It was surprisingly strong, coming from someone her size, from someone he'd just met a few hours before. It felt achingly good to be pressed against her.

“It was very nice to meet you,” she said. “Good luck with everything.”

Then she planted a kiss on his cheek and walked inside. It was almost paralyzing, the kiss, the feel of her lips on his skin, the already increasing distance between them. Paralyzing enough that by the time he went into the house, Leila had already said good-bye to his dad and was at the front door. Not just at the front door but halfway out of it already. She noticed him and paused; then she waved good-bye and closed the door behind her.

He stood in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, trying to get over the shock of seeing her leave so suddenly. When he became aware of the sound of rushing water, he noticed his dad standing at the sink doing the dishes. “Pop, need any help?”

His dad turned, the bottom of his shirt stained dark with water. “No, thanks.”

“Okay,” he said. “I'll be upstairs. Night.” But he didn't move for a while, just stood there staring at the front door.

“G'night,” his dad called back. “I'll be by your room at six to make sure you're up. Tomorrow's a big day.”

“Right,” Hudson said. When he broke out of his daze, he climbed the stairs with measured effort and went into his room, plopping down onto his bed and pulling out the stack of papers he'd printed off the internet full of possible questions he might be asked during an admissions interview. He leafed through some pages, more aware of the sound they made as his fingertips pushed them aside than of the words on the paper. He eyed the outfit he and his dad had picked out for the interview—his blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, jade-green tie. It was hanging on the closet's door handle, the dry-cleaning wrapper keeping the suit from wrinkling.

A couple of minutes later, Hudson heard his dad coming up the stairs, and the lights in the hallway turned off. Hudson realized he hadn't read a single word, so he rose from his bed and walked over to the windowsill. He sighed deeply, as if thoughts of Leila rested in his lungs and all he needed was to breathe her out. As his breath rattled the venetian blinds, he noticed that Leila's car was still parked outside. He stepped to the window and looked through the slats. He could see her sitting inside, one elbow resting against the window, the other hand on the wheel. She pulled her elbow away and looked up at him, her eyes brilliant even from that distance. He thought about the oxbow, about wandering its entire perimeter with Leila by his side, the Mississippi River providing a roar of background noise to their conversation.

Not tonight
, he told himself as he poked his head out his bedroom door to make sure the lights in his dad's room were off.
I'm not going to stay home tonight, not when I have the chance to spend time with her.
He went back into his room, pulled the cords that drew the blinds up, and slid his window open. He climbed slowly onto the roof of the porch, then eased himself onto the grass of the front lawn, looking back to make sure his dad's lights were still off.