Under the Lights (7 page)

“I'm worried about her. Her eyes are sad and guarded.”

Gunner didn't respond immediately. He looked as if his thoughts had gone far away from here. Almost distant. I waited to see if he'd respond, and when I had almost given up on him, he turned to me. “Not everyone's life is like yours. There are some things people don't want to share. It's how they survive.”

At that Gunner walked away. He didn't want to hear what I had to say in response, and I was glad because I didn't have anything. For starters, how the hell was my life different from his, except he had a shit ton of money? We both had married parents and good home lives. Neither of us had seen abuse or been neglected. Well, maybe emotionally Gunner had suffered neglect, but it wasn't all bad. Ms. Ames was always there to mother him when he needed it.

After Willa had left, we stayed closed at first. Then we began to drift. I wasn't sure why, but Gunner pulled away from me for a time. Football and field parties eventually brought us closer again, but things had never really been the same since she left. We'd been closer then. He had been my best friend before then. I thought of West as my
best friend now. I talked to West about things Gunner just didn't seem interested in.

Having Willa back reminded me of how things once were. She had been such a big part of our childhood. Being around her again brought it all back.

Willa was dealing with real shit. She'd never had it easy. I knew she thought of herself as a burden to her mother. I had seen it in her eyes and the way she said things. The way she tried so hard to make her nonna proud of her. The day she'd told me she was moving to Arkansas to live with her mother I had wanted to be happy for her. But I'd been heartbroken instead.

That hadn't been roses for her there, either. I could see that in the girl she had become. I hated her mother. I'd only seen her once, and even as a child I knew she was beautiful. But that didn't make me hate her less. She had made Willa feel unwanted.

“You waiting on me?” Ivy's voice broke into my thoughts. She was something else I really needed to deal with. I knew it was obvious that I watched Willa. To everyone but Willa. But I didn't want to hurt Ivy, either. Until Willa walked back into town, I had been perfectly happy doing whatever it was me and Ivy were doing. Which, to be honest, we were mostly just fucking. But still. She was a sweet girl.

I couldn't keep doing that though. Not with Willa being on my brain all the time. It wasn't fair to Ivy. I had to work through what this was I felt for Willa, and if friendship was all we would ever have. Until then I needed my freedom to find out.

Gunner wanted nothing more than friendship. He wasn't mentally capable of being what Willa needed or deserved. He was the good-time guy, not the guy to lean on. Even if he was different with Willa.

“I was just talking to Gunner. Heading to my next class,” I told her, not wanting to give her false hope.

Her smile fell, but I'd been nice about the truth. “Oh” was her response.

I should have felt bad about that. I just didn't seem to have the energy to feel anything about her at all. Which didn't say a lot about me as a person. I was letting myself down. Typically I was a better guy than this.

WILLA

The thickness of hilarity hangs over me, and I move slowly through the room. Poppy's house is always my favorite escape. There is no sense of annoyance from my being here. I'm accepted and free of the pain that always haunts me. Even my stepfather's disgusted glare that I'm met with every day when he returns from work seems funny right now as I think about it and him. The world is my playground, and I shall play in it. I giggle loudly, and Bo, Poppy's boyfriend, looks up at me from his spot on the worn leather sofa and smiles. It's crooked and sweet, like Bo. Poppy is lucky to have Bo. He is sincere, fun, kind—but best of all he never fails to supply the good stuff.

Bo's older brother sells pot, and he makes sure Bo gets the best when we all pitch in and buy some. We can count on him for nights like this. Sometimes days like this. Poppy's parents are rarely home. They both work long hours at the restaurant they own in town, and Poppy has to always stay home and keep an eye on her younger sister. Which is funny too. Not sure why it's funny, but I laugh again.

The room is almost weightless as I float by and then stop to pick up the vodka Sprite that Poppy fixed me. Bo's brother also bought us a bottle of vodka. I drink the sweet mixture, glad that Poppy put so much Sprite in it. I don't like the taste of alcohol much, but it sure makes me feel happy. So happy.

The yellow walls of the kitchen are too bright, so I turn off the lights and begin searching for the cheese balls I saw earlier in the pantry. I love cheese balls and all their fattening goodness. “Where's the cheese balls?” I yell from the corner of the pantry.

“I got 'em,” Poppy calls back, so I stumble out of the pantry, only falling on my ass once and laughing so hard I have to curl up in a ball on the split-brick floor. The cold brick feels good to my face, so I rub it around, letting my cheek be soothed.

“Are you making out with the floor?” someone asks, and I open my eyes to see Cole Sanders standing over me
with his glass of straight vodka and an e-cigarette he put the good juice into. He gets away with smoking pot all over the place with that thing. Lucky.

“Maybe.” I grin, holding both my hands in the air. “Or maybe I can't get up.”

“Maybe I need to come down there and join you,” he says, not reaching for my hands, then winks.

I'm high, but I'm not high enough to let Cole Sanders down here with me. He's slept with so many girls he's bound to have an STD by now. No way. I shake my head and sit up quickly. “Not happening,” I say just before struggling to stand up.

He acts as if he were pouting. “Ah, Willa, that hurts.”

Rolling my eyes, I reach for my drink. “Not as much as the herps you'd give me.”

“SLAM!” Bo hollers, laughing hysterically at my comeback. I join him in his laughter and so does Cole.

Life is funny. Everything is just hilarious. I love it here. I love pot and vodka and Bo's brother.

I love—

Then Poppy's screams fill the air, and fear consumes me.

•  •  •

I bolted up in bed and placed my hand on my heart, trying to catch my breath. The screaming was still there. In my head. It would always be there. I'd never forget it as
long as I lived. Tears slid down my face, and I buried my head in my hands as the pain that came with this nightmare returned. I hated remembering, yet I had to. It was only fair that I did.

Forgetting meant living, and was that even fair? No. Nothing was fair. It never would be again. Just like nothing would ever be normal. Especially me. I was broken in ways that could never be fixed. My life would always have the shadow of pain, guilt, regret, and loss.

Dropping my hands, I swung my legs over the bed and stood up. I had to see her. Remember her and allow the searing heartache to run its course. There would be no more sleep tonight. I was afraid to close my eyes now. I didn't want to see the rest. I lived it. I tried like hell to block it and unsee it, but I couldn't. It was there in my mind, burned deeply into me. As it should be.

I opened the dresser drawer and moved the photo albums I had there over until I found the one picture I had kept. The others I'd left behind. I was sure my mother had thrown them out by now. I didn't want them anyway. Too many memories. This was all I could stand. Seeing this one.

Flipping it over, I saw Poppy's strawberry-blond hair first. It was teased sky high, and she was laughing at me. My hair was equally ridiculous. The bright colors we wore went beyond hideous, but the pink lipstick and blue eye
shadow were the best parts. It was homecoming week last year, and this had been our outfit for Eighties Day. Our mothers had grown up in the eighties, so they'd both been very helpful with the wardrobes. We had nailed the look.

As awesome as we were dressed up, that wasn't why I had chosen this photo. It was the laughter on Poppy's face, on both our faces. It was what I remembered most about Poppy. The laughing and the feeling like I had someone who cared. When I had left Lawton at eleven, I'd thought I would never have a friend again.

Then Poppy had shared her peanut butter sandwich with me because my mother had forgotten to make me a lunch. It had been instant friendship.

My chest clinched tightly until it was only pain. Tears blurred my vision, and I slipped the photo back in the drawer and covered it with the albums. That was a life I'd never have again. Laughter I'd never feel. Even now when I smiled, I felt guilty for being able to. I didn't deserve to smile and definitely not laugh. Ever again.

I often wished I was physically unable to laugh and smile. It felt good when I did, until I remembered why I shouldn't. The guilt was consuming. It ate at me. It destroyed me.

Looking around the dark room, I wondered what life would have been like had my mother never sent for me. If
I'd stayed here in Lawton. Lived this life instead. Gunner and Brady both seemed okay. They weren't unstable. It was safe in this small town. But hadn't it been safe in the one I'd lived in too?

Bad decisions could have been made anywhere. Like me. I was a product of my mother's bad decision. She'd made that in this small town, and I'd been nothing but disappointment.

GUNNER

I stopped by my father's office door on my way downstairs for breakfast. It was closed as always. When I was five, I had wanted to show him a turtle I had found and went barging in that door unannounced and invited. He'd been on the phone while I'd been jumping back and forth on my feet with the thrilling news of my new pet. Trying hard to keep quiet until he was off the phone so I could show him. Ms. Ames had been happy when I had shown her, so I thought maybe I could make my father equally happy.

It was something I did often back then. Try to please the man. Make him smile at me. The eternity of his phone conversation had been enough of a reason to praise me,
because I was rarely quiet. When he had ended the call, he'd leveled his dark brown eyes, very different from my own, on me and glared with fury.

“Why are you in here, Gunner?”

I held out my turtle, who I had named Charlie Daniels because Ms. Ames listened to music by that name often and I liked to dance to it in the kitchen. “I found a turtle!” I announced with great pride.

My father looked down at the turtle and then back at me. The rule was I wasn't supposed to go in his office. He didn't like me in here the way he did Rhett. Sometimes I wondered if he even liked me at all. But I'd found a turtle, and he needed to see it.

“If you ever walk in that door again without being invited in, I will take off this belt and beat your ass. Do you understand me?” His voice was a little less than a roar. I didn't understand him at all. He'd not even acknowledged my turtle. So I held it up higher. Until my elbows were over my head. “But I found a turtle!” I exclaimed, thinking he had somehow missed this information.

My father reached in my hand and took the turtle from it, then tossed it out the open window behind his desk. “There. Go find the damn thing and stay out of my office.”

I never did find my turtle.

And I never called him Dad or Father again.

The man behind that door I hated. I knew he hated me equally, and it wasn't until much later that I had understood his hate. One day I'd demand my mother tell me my real father's name. I wanted to carry that last name. I no longer cared about the name that held power in this small southern town. I wouldn't live here much longer. When I graduated, I'd take my money and leave. Never to return.

Except maybe to throw a party the day of that man's funeral.

The kitchen already smelled like muffins, bacon, and coffee when I entered it. My parents never came to the kitchen to get food. They would sit at the table in the dining room, and Ms. Ames would serve them their meal. I, however, had started eating in here with Willa when we were kids. I liked it better at the small, round table that was always set whenever I walked in.

“Morning, boy,” Ms. Ames said with real affection in her voice. “'Bout time you got down here. You're gonna be late. I put your coffee in a travel mug, and here's your two blueberry muffins and a few slices of bacon. Don't eat and drive. Just eat it quick before you go.”

I was in a bigger hurry than she realized. I had to get Willa and get us both to school on time. “I'll eat in first period,” I told her, taking the food and coffee from her hands.

She frowned but nodded. “Okay then. You drive safe.”

“Will do,” I assured her.

My mother wouldn't wake for another two hours. It was a blessing. Having to face her before I'd had coffee every morning would suck. I never saw the man in the office, and I liked to keep it that way. One of the reasons I never showed for family meals. I told Mom that dinner in the kitchen was easier on my schedule for football and homework. It was complete bullshit, but for the most part it worked.

“Willa doing okay at school? You seen her?”

“She's doing just fine from what I've seen, but I'll watch out for her,” I replied, then hurried out the door. I wanted time with Willa, and the more I wasted in the house chatting up her nonna the less I'd have on my ride to school with her.

She made me remember a happier time. A simple, easy friendship I no longer knew. I wanted it back. Being with her hadn't just been easy, it had made me feel good. It still did. My chest felt lighter, and I looked forward to being around her. No one calmed me and excited me at the same time the way Willa did.