The Ocean (12 page)

Change, It’s Inevitable

Gianna

Over the next two weeks, we settled into a rhythm. Travis and I walked to our classes together and ate lunch and dinner together. We did our homework together. If I weren’t with him, I was thinking about him. We wrote each other letters every day.

Gradual y, posters about homecoming began appearing on the wal s al over the hal s. After school, I was looking at one outside of girls’ restroom as I waited for Abby. That was when Chiz leaned his back against the wal beside it looking up.

“Do you have a date yet?” He looked over at me in what I believed was his attempt to look sexy. Technical y, Travis hadn’t asked me, but we were going out on a regular basis, and he referred to me as his girl when he talked with his friends.

“I’m probably going with Travis.” I looked back at the poster.

“Wel , probably is not a definite. I’m extending the offer if he doesn’t ask you, but it’s only good until the end of the week. I’m in high demand, you know.” He straightened up and nodded his head to someone. “Hey, Travis, don’t be late for practice.” He slapped his shoulder and walked off.

“Hey, Beautiful.” Travis kissed my head as he squeezed me to him. “What did he want?” He motioned toward Chiz.

“He asked me to the homecoming dance,” I said, shaking my head.

“What did you say?” He almost sounded nervous.

“I said we were probably going together even though you haven’t asked me.”

“Wil you go to the dance with me?” he leaned in and whispered, as Abby swung the door open and came out.

“Yes,” I breathed; he had no idea the effect he had on me now. He kissed my cheek goodbye and went to practice. Abby and I went on our outing to the mal .

“So you are official y going with Travis? Alex asked Kiarah two weeks ago, and I have no date. Maybe I won’t go.” Abby was having a bit of a pity party because Mason hadn’t asked her yet.

“He’s going to ask you. The dance is stil two weeks away. They haven’t even announced the homecoming court yet. Maybe we should look at dresses.” I concentrated as I was trying to do the math on twenty percent off the shirt I was looking at.

“Nineteen-ninety-nine and I have no problem going stag. Besides, I could go with Bryan. He asked me yesterday, but I’m sure that window won’t be open for long.” She was now chewing on her nails.

“Why don’t you ask him?” I pul ed her hand down. She looked unsure.

“Do we have enough clothes to go to the dressing rooms?” she sighed uncomfortably, changing the subject.

In the dressing room, I texted Travis and asked if Mason was going to ask Abby to the dance. He replied that he thought so. I told him to hurry or she was going to tel Bryan “yes.” He didn’t respond. We made our purchases, and I dropped Abby off at home. By the time I made it home, Alex and Travis were in the kitchen fixing dinner. I didn’t want to know what they were fixing, so I took my bags upstairs and began looking for a new place to put the additions to my wardrobe.

“What’d ya get me?” Travis threw himself on my bed. I showed him the black tops and darker shorts and skirts. He put his hands behind his head enjoying the display. He uttered approval at his favorites.

“Dark colors honoring your mom, right?” He looked toward the door.

“Yes,” was al I said.

Alex yel ed for us. We both went down and ate dinner together.

“I need to know what color your dress is for my suit, so I can coordinate,” Travis said.

“I don’t know yet, but I’l let you know when I find it,” I said, dreading that shopping trip suddenly. It was times like this that I real y missed my mom. He leaned against the porch pil ar prolonging his visit. We had eaten, washed and put away the dishes, and finished our homework. It was getting late.

He took one step down.

“So I’l see you tomorrow?” We were eye to eye.

“Yes, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed.” I winked. He chuckled. He put his arms around my waist, and I threw my arms around his neck. He leaned in to kiss me. I closed my eyes. Then I heard someone clear his throat. We both looked in the direction just as our lips brushed each other’s. Standing on the sidewalk was Oliver. I rol ed my eyes and pecked Travis on the lips. “Tomorrow,” I whispered. He hugged me tight and turned to leave. Oliver passed him on the sidewalk.

“Travis,” Oliver nodded, his steady gaze fixed on me.

“Mr. Moretti,” Travis nodded, as he looked straight ahead. I sat down on the porch. He pul ed away with a final wave goodbye.

“It’s a lovely evening, don’t you think?” Oliver sat down beside me.

“It was,” I said.

“Is your homework done?”

“Yes.” Were we real y going to play this game of idle chat?

“Wel , you should come inside; it’s getting late and—” he trailed off, staring at the early evening stars. “I know you think I’m a horrible person, and that’s OK. I used to be. But I’m not that person anymore. I hope one day you and your brother can forgive me. I’l never replace your mother, but I do and wil always love you.” He stood and walked to the door. He paused and turned toward me. “Don’t stay out much longer.” I nodded and sat there for another half hour.

As I lay in bed looking at my white ceiling, listening to my loud rock music, I tried to think. I tried to remember a time when Oliver showed me affection as a child. We flew a kite once. He was happy until I crashed it into the ground and broke the stick that held it together. Then he ripped it in two and threw it at my feet. Turning on my mom, he said it was a stupid idea to try to teach someone like me to fly a kite. He once promised to build a swing set for Alex and me. But after two cases of beer, he threw it out with the trash the fol owing week. “Wasted money,” he had sneered.

Wasted daddy, I had thought. I couldn’t sleep; I took out my notebook.

Travis,

I had a weird moment with my dad after you left. I’ve been analyzing it ever since. So, it’s almost midnight and I’m staring at my ceiling. Do you think people who were so set in their ways most of their lives can change? I’m wondering if it’s possible. When my mother remarried, it was to a man named Mitchell Warner. Alex and I liked him right away. He asked us questions about our lives and seemed genuinely interested. He went to all of Alex’s football games and would listen to me play my instruments for hours after dinner, smiling proudly at us. I came home one day from school surprised that both my mom and Mitchell were sitting in the dining room. They didn’t see me, but my mom was on the phone with Mitchell hanging on her every word. The conversation was simple: My mom was asking my dad to give up his parental rights. He must have refused because she begged and pleaded. Then she became angry, which was strange, because my mother had never been anything but afraid of my father. I guess she found strength in the distance, or maybe she was stronger than I ever gave her credit for. Finally she hung up the phone. She and Mitchell hugged; he said he still loved us like his own. I went back to the door and made a grand entrance, so they knew I was home. I went straight to my room; I was so mad at Oliver. Later when I came back down we all acted like nothing had happened.

I’ve been so angry with Oliver because he didn’t allow us to have our happy ending. He told me he loved us tonight. And he seems to be doing OK with being sober, the anger, and managing the bar and house. It makes me wonder if he has changed. I’m not afraid of him. I’m not my mother; if he put his hands on me, I would fight back, and then I’d call the police. No one will ever make me feel that way. I’m not worried about that. I just wonder if there is such a thing as redemption. I wonder if there can be forgiveness. He never hurt me on the outside. But he hurt all of us on the inside, and I don’t know if he can ever understand that. He can’t take it back; he has to live with it as we all do.

I’m sorry to unload on you like this. In my defense you did tell me you were a good listener, and I think if you’re going to accept me, you have to accept all of me. I’m not a shiny new toy; I’m dingy and some of my parts don’t work. They’ve been broken and glued back together. So be gentle with me.

Gia

The next day at school as I sat in second period during the morning announcements, they named the homecoming court. I didn’t know any of the names except for four: Travis Nichols, Jil ian Thomas, Mason Dixon, and Alex Moretti. I slouched in my seat. Of course, Jil ian, would be there. I’d bet al the cheerleaders were in the homecoming court. And, of course, the most popular boys on the footbal team. I wondered what going to the dance with Travis now entailed. I wasn’t sure.

As I went to my locker before lunch, I was bumped more than I though was necessary by cheerleaders passing me in the hal . At first I thought that I was delusional, but they were real y bumping into me. I almost dropped my books once, but I didn’t, and I held my head high. As I put my books into my locker, Travis snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and whispering “Hi” breathily in my ear. It sent chil s down my spine and tickled my ear. I giggled.

“Hi, yourself.” He stepped over to his locker and dropped his books in. “Homecoming court, huh?” I smirked.

“I’m going to concede and let the next runner up take my spot.” He was stil digging in his locker.

“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m going to the dance with you, and I don’t want to do al the stuff that’s involved with homecoming—stand on a float, stand on stage, dance with anyone beside you—I’ve done it al before. It’s not that big of a deal.” He peeked at me from around his locker.

“Hmm,” was al I said, as I took his hand, letting him lead me toward the cafeteria.

“What’s that supposed mean?” he asked, a crooked smile spread on his face.

“I was a little bummed you were on the court, but I understand it. You’re popular and a good representation of our school. I just don’t want you to give this up for me. That’s not a good enough reason.” I didn’t look at him.

“Are you sure? It’s not that big of a deal to me. This is our first dance together; that’s a big deal to me.” He had stopped, and I looked up at him. I sighed.

“I’m sure.”

“OK.”

I stood staring at the mirror in a flesh-colored, soft flowing dress. It didn’t feel right, and it was the fifth dress I’d tried on. Abby had already picked her dress, her shoes, and clutch purse, and was now banging on the door for the third time demanding to see my dress. I opened the door and showed her.

“It’s not right,” I said softly, as I looked down.

“So, what is right then? Because I don’t know if they have any more styles of dresses. You look amazing.” I looked back at my reflection.

“No, it doesn’t feel right,” I sighed.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.” She leaned her head against the swinging door. She analyzed my face. I could feel her searching my eyes and my expression. “We’l come back another day.” She closed the door, and I dressed again.

Abby checked out and was chattering about how Mason had asked her. He’d come over to her house on the pretense of getting help with calculus.

Halfway through the tutoring session, he said, “I don’t need any more help.” She looked at him, not believing him. He continued, “I’ve never needed help. I’ve always liked you. I guess I just wanted to spend time with you and never knew how.” She was shocked; she had tutored Mason since eighth grade. He had confided in her about girls he liked and about girlfriends. He had told her things that friends tel each other, so she never though more of it. She even admitted to me of confiding in him more than she had been comfortable confiding in anyone else. And then he said it.

“Wil you go to the dance with me?” She jumped into his arms, hugging him, and he actual y kissed her. Her first kiss, there in her dining room, her parents in the great room watching TV. She said it was nerve-racking. She blushed and giggled with me as I laughed, not because he kissed her, but because I envisioned her parents oblivious to their daughter’s make-out session in the next room. She admitted that her heart sank a little when she heard his name announced that morning, but she understood. He and Travis had been on the homecoming court for the past two years.

We made it to my house where she dropped me off. Leaning on his car parked behind the old truck in the driveway was Travis, smiling at me as I got out. His expression turned to confusion as I grabbed only my book bag.

“No dress?” His arms went up in the air.

“No dress,” I sighed.

“She needs more help than I can give her,” Abby cal ed to him. I looked at her in annoyance. She shrugged, waved goodbye, and was on her way. I began to walk up the stoop to the front door. He caught my hand.

“I thought we could try something different today.” I looked at him questioningly. “Dinner at my house? My mom made a roast. We can do homework there, too.” He wove his fingers in mine and led me away from the stairs. My eye caught a form move from in front of a window with the blinds open in a house across the street. I couldn’t see more than just a dark form, but someone was there watching—maybe Oliver’s spy and that’s how he seemed to know how much time Travis spent here. I directed my attention back to Travis, his face so hopeful.

“Dinner at your house,” I conceded easily.

In the car we didn’t say much. Throughout dinner we made smal talk about the dance, Travis’ courtly duties, and Hailey’s new obsession with her colored pencil art. We worked diligently on our homework in his room afterward. I sat on his bed, and he sat at his desk. Sometimes my favorite time with him was when we quietly worked on homework. The ability to just be together and not have to fil the void was a luxury I didn’t take for granted. I saw him out of the corner of my eye pause and look at me for a few moments without moving. When I looked up, he had such a questioning in his eyes. I sat up straighter and waited for whatever he was about to drop on me. He looked down at his feet and then back at me.

“Do you real y think of yourself as an old broken toy, too broken to be worth anything?” He held my eyes, and I couldn’t look away.

“Sometimes.” I let out the deep breath I had been unconsciously holding. “When you lose someone or something that you love, and you have no control over it, it hurts deeply. And I’ve teared up, but I haven’t wept. Not like Mitchel did, not like Alex did, not like the rest of my aunts and uncles and cousins that came to the funeral. The first time I cried was on the plane, and it was just a few tears.” I remembered the boy watching me as I stared into nothingness. “I wonder what it is you see in me sometimes. And then other times I’m so happy that you see anything in me. I feel guilty because I’m happy with you, and I shouldn’t be happy. My mom died seven weeks ago. Seven. Weeks. That’s it, and it feels like an eternity.” I could hear my voice rising, but I couldn’t control it. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this.” I motioned my hands between us from him to me. He moved from his chair and sat beside me, cradling me in his arms. He smoothed my hair down my back and rocked me, my head in my hands. Leaning against his chest, I tried to find a tear, but it was nowhere to be found. “I don’t deserve you,” I mumbled into my hands. He shushed me, rocking me slowly back and forth.