Happenstance (6 page)
Weston’s truck was parked directly behind the Dairy
Queen. As if he already didn’t look happy enough, I brought him an extra tall
Cherry Dip Cone. His grin spread from ear to ear.
“Do I have time to go home and change?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m too excited to show you something.”
We drove to his house. The windows were dark, and when he pressed
the garage door button, his parents’ vehicle wasn’t in its spot. Even though it
was a weekend, the entire town seemed to be closed down. With all the
upperclassman traffic gone during Spring Break and so many families away for
vacation, Blackwell would be on a week-long sleep; it was that way every year.
“Your parents already left?” I asked.
He nodded. “This morning.”
“What did they say about you staying home?”
He held open the door for me, and I walked through to the
hallway. “It was a little weird. They were confused, and Mom’s freaking out
about Alder, but they also seemed relieved. I think they were letting me go
because I’m eighteen, but they were going to be worried about me the whole
time.”
“Makes sense.”
“They asked me if I wanted to go skiing, but it’s their first
adults-only vacation since they had me, so they were kind of glad I said no.”
I chuckled. His life was so fascinating to me. The way he was so
close with his parents, how they understood each other and cared for each other
was foreign to me. But mostly I liked that they were sober and could solve
their issues without yelling at him.
We went to the main stairs, and Weston flipped on the light. I
followed him up the spiral, wooden staircase. There was a polished wooden
banister with intricate iron instead of spindles. I loved his house. It was so
clean, and decorated with such care that it could have been featured in a home
design magazine. Hanging from the clay-colored wall were canvases of Weston and
his older sister Whitney, posing together and individually, from grade school
to senior year.
When we reached the top of the stairs, Weston walked down another
hallway, and then opened the last door on the left, sweeping his arm across his
body, signaling for me to come in. The room was still dark, but when I stepped
inside, Weston flipped on the light, revealing his bed, a dresser, and a desk.
Like the rest of the house, everything had its place. It was all dusted and
smelled fresh. The midnight blue comforter was tucked under the pillows, and
smoothed out just right. The desk was organized and dusted, and his brand new computer
was off.
Above the desk was the charcoal he’d drawn of me. Its frame was
black and looked like rope. It didn’t really go with the brown-stained wooden
frame of his bed, or anything else in his room.
“What do you think?”
I realized then that my mouth was open and I snapped it shut.
His eyebrows pulled together. “I went to Hobby Lobby in Ponca to
get it framed. It wasn’t the frame I wanted, but they would have had to order
the other one, and I wanted to show it to you today. I couldn’t wait.”
“Are you really going to fail Art?”
He shrugged. “Who cares? What do you think?”
“The Art Institute of Dallas might take issue with you failing
Art.”
His shoulders fell. “I’m not going to Dallas, Erin.”
“Why not?”
“I tried to tell my parents, but I can’t look them in the eye and
say it to them.”
“Do you want to go?”
He held out his hands then let them fall back to his thighs with
a slap. “Yeah.”
“Then you’re going. We’re going to figure out a way to get you
there, even if I have to hold your hand when you tell them. They love you,
Weston, and above all, they want you to be happy, right?”
He nodded slowly. “But . . .”
“No buts. We’re going to get you there.”
He watched me for a moment. “Do you like the frame?”
“I love the frame. I love the picture. I still don’t understand
why you decided to make me your final project.” My last words hung in the air. “Is
that what I am? A project?”
He seemed disappointed by my question. “I didn’t know what I was
going to do. I just started drawing. After a week I realized that she,” he
said, pointing to the drawing, “was you. As I put more time into making her
perfect, I understood why it happened.” He took a few steps toward me, until he
was so close I had to look up to see his eyes. “When you think about something
enough, you start dreaming about it. And when you dream about something enough,
you just have to hope that it becomes a reality.” He sighed. “I think about you
all the time, Erin. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I was just so
damn nervous. I didn’t know what to say or how you’d react if I did. I was
afraid you would think I was just trying to help Alder pick on you. I know that
I have shitty timing, because we’re both getting ready to move in different
directions, but I’ve gotten really good at loving you from a distance.”
I’d worked so hard not to let anyone see me cry that I felt a
moment of panic when my eyes watered and the first tear fell. I quickly wiped
it away.
Weston put his thumbs on each side of my face and leaned down,
pausing just before he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
I nodded slowly, feeling every nerve in my body perk up and wait
to experience what was about to happen.
Weston leaned in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to mine. They
were so soft and warm. His lips parted, so I did the same. I’d seen kissing on
television enough to know how this worked, so I just tried to keep my lips soft
and moved with him. His tongue slipped into my mouth and danced with mine. He
tasted like Cherry Dip Cone and toothpaste, which was oddly fantastic. His
hands slid down from my jaw to my neck, and then to my shoulders. His fingers
pressed into my skin as he pulled me gently closer.
Just when I thought I was going to pass out from holding my
breath, I heard Weston breathe slightly through his nose, and I did the same. I
was completely clueless, so I just kept taking cues from him.
He pulled away, and I nearly fell forward because I wasn’t ready
to stop yet.
“Whoa,” he said, staring at me.
“What? Was it awful?”
He shook his head. “No. Not at all. But we’d better stop.” He sat
on the bed and took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his head. He stared at
the floor. “Just . . . give me a minute.”
I walked over to him and crashed against his chest. His back
slammed against the bed, and I put my mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around
me and hugged me to him, making a low humming noise as our tongues found their
way to each other again. We grabbed at each other, barely coming up for air,
and at one point or another over the next hour, we occupied every inch of his
queen-sized bed.
Finally, Weston let his head fall back to his pillow, keeping his
arms wrapped tightly around me. I was halfway on top of him, lying on my side,
my leg draped over one of his. “I’m going to be hurting in the morning already.
We have to stop.”
“Why will you be hurting?”
He paused, clearly trying to search for gentle words to explain. “I
feel like an ass explaining. It’ll make it sound like I’m trying to guilt trip
you into . . . you know. And it was never my intention for you to experience
your first kiss and lose your virginity in the same night.”
“Are we talking about blue balls?”
He choked then busted out into loud laughter. Once he caught his
breath, he pulled my fingers up to his mouth and kissed them. “Yes.”
“I’m not completely clueless. I am aware of most things, even if
I haven’t experienced them for myself.”
“Something you might not be aware of is that I’m not cheating on Alder.
I broke up with her today.”
“I know.”
He readjusted his head on the pillow to look straight at me. “How?”
“She came by the DQ today. She was pretty upset.”
“Was she mean to you?” he said. His jaws worked under the skin as
he waited for me to answer.
“She’s always mean to me. But she said when she gets back that
it’s going to get significantly worse.”
Weston looked away, and then back at me. “I won’t let them hurt
you anymore, Erin. Don’t be afraid of them.”
“I’m not.”
He frowned. “It’s just six weeks. We can get through it.”
I kissed him, this time it was brief and sweet. Just a peck, then
I nodded. “You’re the one I’m worried about. You’re not used to it.”
“I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. They might give us
shit during school, but they can’t touch what we’ve got.”
I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating.
It slowed more with each passing minute, and then his breathing became deep and
even. I glanced up, seeing that his eyes were closed. His hand was resting
comfortably on my back. I laid my head back down, nestling against his side and
snuggling into his neck. He pulled me closer to him, and that is when I fell
asleep.
~*~
At first, the chirping didn’t register, but when Weston
tried to carefully maneuver out from under me, I woke up.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s four in the morning. Go back to
sleep.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“I don’t know. Someone is blowing up my phone.” Right when he
reached for his cell and unplugged it from the charger, it rang. “Shit, it’s my
Mom. Hello?”
I could hear Veronica on the other end, her voice high-pitched
and desperate.
“No. Calm down, Mom. No, I told you. I’m in Blackwell. I stayed
here, remember? Mom. Stop crying. What’s going on?”
The voice switched to a deep tone, and I could tell it was Peter,
Weston’s father. Weston wiped his face, his eyes were wide.
“Holy shit. Are you sure? Who told you?” He paused, listening to
Peter. “Oh, man. Both of them? I don’t . . . Jesus. No, don’t come back. I’m
fine. No, I’m sure. You guys try to have a good time. I’m at home, safe in my
bed. Okay. Love you, too.” He hung up the phone and looked down at me.
“What is it? Are they okay?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. It’s the Erins. They were on their way to
South Padre, and Alder was driving. She fell asleep or something and crossed
the median. They hit a semi head on. They’re dead.”
“They’re . . .
dead
?” I said in disbelief.
Weston wiped his face again and held his hand over his mouth. “They’re
dead. Sonny and Alder are dead.” His eyes were wide, and my mouth hung open. We
sat in silence for the longest time.
Weston grabbed his phone and checked his messages. He sighed and
shook his head. “The rumors are already starting.” He put down the phone. “Should
I take you home?”
“Whatever you want to do. If you want to be alone, I can walk
home. If you don’t, I’ll stay here.”
He pulled me against him and leaned back against the pillows, but
we didn’t sleep.
The funerals were held together the following Saturday.
I didn’t go, because it didn’t feel right, but Weston stopped by the Dairy
Queen afterward to fill me in. He told me Sonny’s parents and Sam and Julianne
seemed to be holding up well and leaned on each other for support. He talked
about what the funeral looked like, who ran the service, what songs they played
and who was there. But he seemed lost.
“Why don’t you go?” Frankie said. “He needs you today.”
“I . . .” I looked to Weston. “Do you want me to take off?”
He looked pitiful. “Please?”
I pulled off my apron and tossed it on the counter. “Thanks,
Frankie.”
She winked at me, but her expression was sad.
I pushed through the back door, and went immediately into
Weston’s arms. He held me tight, burying his head in my neck. I held him for a
long time, but when I pulled away, he hung on, so I kept my arms around him,
squeezing tighter.
Once his arms relaxed, he handed me his keys. “Would you drive?”
I froze. “I’ve only driven the Driver’s Ed car, and that was over
two years ago.”
“You can do it,” he said. He opened the door and helped me into
the driver’s seat; then he jogged around and climbed in next to me.
I nervously turned the key in the ignition, adjusted the seat and
mirrors, all while trying to recall everything I learned about driving. I
pressed on the brake and then pulled the gear into drive, pulling forward. I
paused at Main Street before driving out of the parking lot. “Where do you want
to go?”
“Anywhere. Just drive.” He reached over and took my hand into his.
As I turned right and headed out of town, Weston rested his head against the
seat. “Everyone was apologizing to me today. It felt so weird, because I don’t
feel like I lost anything. I should feel different. Is it weird that I don’t?”
“I don’t know how to feel either. I try not to think about it.”
“Maybe it’s not acceptable, or maybe others wouldn’t understand.”
He turned to look at me. “But we get it. We can talk about it to each other.”
I waited for him to expand on that thought. The Erins couldn’t
make good on Alder’s promise to make me miserable, now, and that was a good
thing. But I didn’t want to be the first one to say something so appalling out
loud.
He looked up. “I’m sorry they were hurt. I’m sorry they lost
their lives, but I feel sort of . . . relieved. It feels like such an asshole
thing to say, but it’s the truth. Don’t you feel the same?”
“I’m not glad they’re dead.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s a
relief to know they can’t torture me anymore.”
Weston squeezed my hand, and after that. We didn’t talk much. I
drove until the gas light lit up on the dash. By then we were an hour south, in
Stillwater. Weston directed me to the nearest gas station and showed me how to
pump the gas.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Okay, I’ll grab some chips and a pizza pocket or something.
Mountain Dew?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He hung the nozzle on the pump, and then ran into the station. I
stood there, not sure which door to get in. When Weston returned, he watched
me, puzzled.
“What are you doing, babe?”
My purpose, where I was, and even my own name were lost on me,
because of what had just come out of his mouth. I’d heard other couples call
each other sweet terms of endearment, and I heard mothers say such things to
their children, but no one had called me anything but my name, and a few
colorful slurs. I’d always imagined what it would feel like, to hear someone
who loved me call me something simple and sweet, and it just came out of Weston
Gates’s mouth.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Do you want me to drive?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he
took another step toward me. “Are you okay?”
I took a few quick strides and jumped on him, wrapping my legs
around his middle and my arms around his neck, kissing him hard.
He kissed me back. The sacks he was holding crackled as he
hurried to wrap his arms around me.
When I pulled away, he smiled. “What was that for?”
“I don’t know. I just needed to.”
“You should follow your gut more often,” he said, kissing me
again.
He asked me to drive, and five hours after I left work, I pulled
into Gina’s driveway. There were two police cars and another car, dark blue
with the Oklahoma Department of Human Services logo on the driver and passenger
doors.
“Oh my God,” I said. I turned to Weston. “I don’t know what this
is about, but you have to go.”
He shook his head. “No way. We’re getting through everything
together now, remember?”
Hot tears burned my eyes. “I appreciate that. I really do, but this
is humiliating. I don’t want you to hear whatever they have to say.”
“What are they going to say?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want you to hear it.”
Weston hesitated, and then grabbed my hand gently. “Does she hit
you?” I shook my head, and Weston sighed with relief. “When are you going to
learn that I don’t judge you, Erin? I love everything about you. I always have.”
When I didn’t respond, he squeezed my hand. “Let me come with you. Please?”
I nodded and turned off the engine. We both walked to my house,
hand in hand. When we walked in, Gina was sitting on the couch, her expression
blank. Two police officers were standing to the side, and a woman from DHS was
sitting next to her. She smiled at me.
“Hi, Erin. My name is Kay Rains. I’m from the Department of Human
Services. We’ve come because of certain circumstances regarding the death of
Erin Alderman.”
“Okay . . .” I said, completely confused. Did they think her
death had something to do with me?
She smiled, noticing my nervousness. “It’s okay, Erin. You’re not
in any trouble.”
“What’s with the cops, then?” Weston asked. His hand was still
firmly holding mine.
Kay nodded. “We didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just procedure.
We need you to come to the hospital with us. There is some confusion.”
I frowned. “With the Erins? What does that have to do with me?”
Kay stood. “An autopsy was requested for Erin Alderman. The
results were returned last night, and the parents have questions. If we could
just get a blood sample from you, we can get all of this cleared up.”
“A blood sample? You still haven’t said what this has to do with
Erin,” Weston said.
Kay sighed. “The results have shown that Erin Alderman is not the
biological child of Sam and Julianne Alderman. Erin Masterson’s results are
normal. You’re the only female baby that was born at Blackwell Hospital on
September fourth. In fact, you’re the only baby that was born, besides the
girls that passed away, within three days of your birthdays.”
“Are you saying that you think Erin Alderman is Gina Easter’s
daughter, and Erin is . . . Sam and Julianne’s?” Weston said. We both gasped
when he finished his last word.
Kay touched Gina’s knee, even though she wasn’t visibly upset. “Unfortunately,
that is what we suspect.”
Weston and I looked at each other, both of our mouths hanging
open.
“I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll drive you.”
I nodded.
“We’ll return her shortly, Ms. Easter.”
Gina nodded, and we all left her alone in the living room.
My shoes crunched against the gravel as we walked to Weston’s
truck. He opened the door and picked me up, sitting me in the passenger seat
without effort. He looked straight into my eyes.
“Is this for real?” he asked.
I shook my head, unable to speak.
Weston got behind the wheel, and followed the DHS car and the two
police cruisers to the hospital. We were escorted to the lab, and then sat in
the waiting room. Weston held my hand. I stared at the white tile floor, unable
to speak, or even think. My brain felt stuck, as if it wouldn’t allow me to even
explore the possibility of what all this meant.
“Erin Easter,” the tech said. I stood up, and Weston stood up
with me.
“Just her, please,” Kay said.
I nodded to Weston and he sat.
The tech led me through the door into a small room with cabinets
and a counter top. He gathered a long rubber strap and clear tubes on a silver
tray next to me. I looked away, letting him stab me with the needle, feeling
him move just slightly as he switched out the tubes. He extracted the needle,
placed a cotton swab on the puncture site, and taped it down with a hot pink,
sticky material that looked like a piece of ace bandage.
I stepped out to find Weston standing in the waiting room,
between Kay and the police officers. “What now?” I asked.
Kay offered a sweet, reassuring grin and handed me her card. “And
now we wait. If you need anything at all, call my cell phone. It’s listed on
the card. I’ll come by with the results the moment we have them. We put a rush
on the order, but they’re sending them off, so it will likely be Wednesday.”
“Oh. I don’t have a . . .”
Weston took the card, looked at the number, and then tapped his
phone. “I’ve got it,” he said. He tapped his phone again and waited. Kay’s
phone rang, and she dug it from her purse and looked down. “That’s me,” Weston
said. “You can reach her at this number.”
Kay and the officers walked in front of us as we headed down the
hall toward the parking lot. They backed out before we buckled our seat belts.
“Do you . . . do you think it’s possible? That Gina’s not my . .
.” Just saying the words took my breath away, and my mind shut down again. It
wouldn’t let me process the possibility.
Weston intertwined his fingers with mine. I don’t know how my
luck changed so dramatically, but this had to be an apology straight from God.
If Weston hadn’t been sitting next to me, holding my hand with that look of
reassurance, I might have broken down.
I think you’re coming home with me, that’s what I think. We’re
going to put on sweats, eat junk food, and watch as many movies on demand as we
can fit into one night.
My lips curled up. That sounded a lot like what we’d been doing
all Spring Break, and that was exactly what I needed. My smile faded. “Should I
go home? Talk to Gina?”
“Do you want to?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think anything good will come out of
it. So I guess not.”
Weston turned south and drove down Thirteenth Street, in the
direction of his house. I had spent most of my time the last nine days either
at the Dairy Queen or Weston’s. Gina hadn’t even asked any questions or spoken
to me at all. Not that I was complaining. Spring Break had been the best week
of my life, and the thought had crossed my mind more than once that I wouldn’t
mind if things stayed that way forever.
Once the truck was in the garage, Weston turned off the engine
and pushed the garage door button. We walked down the hallway to find Peter and
Veronica sitting at the table. Peter was in a dark gray suit with a black tie,
and Veronica was in a beautiful black dress with a black belt.
She stood and crossed the tile floor, her heels clicking with
each step. She hugged her son for several moments, then let him go, dabbing her
nose with a tissue. “Where have you been?” She wasn’t angry, but she was
clearly emotionally drained. Her eyes scanned me, more curious than before.
“We’ve been driving around mostly, but we just got back from the
. . .” Weston glanced back at me, waiting for permission to continue.
“The hospital,” I said. “I was asked to give a blood sample.”
Weston took my hand. “They requested an autopsy for Alder. She isn’t
Sam and Julianne’s biological daughter.”
His parents weren’t surprised.
“We heard,” Veronica said.
“Is it true?” Peter asked. “Sam and Jillian just left here.”
“Left
here
?” I asked.
Veronica sniffed. “They’ve suffered the unimaginable as parents,
and now it’s happening again. I’m not sure if I’m just exhausted, or . . . she
has Jillian’s eyes, Peter. Don’t you think?”
Peter shook his head. “Veronica. Don’t get the girl’s hopes up.”
I frowned. “Get my hopes up? As if this is a prize that I’m
waiting to win? Do you really think this would be a good thing?”
Veronica and Peter looked at each other, then Weston, then at me.
“Sam and Julianne are wonderful people, Erin. If it’s true, you’ll have a whole
new, amazing family to look forward to,” Peter said.
“If it’s true, that means I’ve missed out on eighteen years with
them. I’m not sure I want it to be true. For me or for them.”
Veronica crossed her arms across her stomach, and Peter put his
arm around her. It was odd, because they were mirroring Weston and me.
Peter nodded. “You’re right, Erin. It’s a horrible situation for
all of you. We’re so sorry.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just been a very long day.”
“Of course it has, honey,” she said, leaving her husband’s arms
and reaching out for me. She clutched me to her and held me tight.
I glanced over at Weston, who was watching his mother with a look
in his eyes that appeared to be a combination of appreciation and relief.
Veronica let me go with a smile on her face.
“We’re going downstairs,” Weston said.
He took my hand in his and led me to the basement. We sat on the
couch, and Weston held up the remote, pushing the power button. The screen lit
up, and he switched on the first movie listed. We settled in, neither of us
feeling like we needed to have a lengthy conversation. In the last month, for
both of us, life had gone from hopeless to happy, in the strangest, most
unfortunate way.
