Away (4 page)

I go to my dresser and start throwing some clothes on, not really caring what I look like. It’s community college and besides, I’m taken. I start brushing my hair, applying some mascara before turning back to witness the state of my boyfriend.

He’s rolled back over to look at me, the blanket covering up half his face, his expression mischievous. He looks so darn cute. Too bad I have to ruin it. “Get up!” I shout, grabbing a pillow and whopping him in the face. “We’re both going to be late!”

“I don’t care,” he whines, and he takes a pillow and pitches it back at me. It misses.“You’re terrible,” I tell him. “If you’re late, don’t blame me.” I hit him with a pillow again.

He finally sits up with a loud yawn. “Can I take a shower?” he asks, running a hand through his rumpled hair. We’re both a mess in the morning. I sigh and say, “Yes, you can. Just don’t use all of Peter’s shampoo.”

“I won’t use any of it. He’s likely to strangle me if he finds out I’ve been taking showers at your house.” Noah makes a choking motion with his hands and gets up, looking around. “Where are my pants?”

I throw my old clothes in the hamper carelessly. “Why is that always the question?”

“Sorry. I get hot during the night.” He stumbles out of my bedroom and I head downstairs to start making breakfast. I don’t ever make eggs unless Noah is here, because it’s too much work to do for myself. Peter and my mom are always gone by the time I get up. Unless Noah or one of my friends are with me, I spend most of my time here alone. It’s pleasant to have somebody actually be here in the morning for once.

I pick at my breakfast while Noah inhales his. He’s got a long work day ahead of him as always, and if I don’t make sure he eats, he probably won’t. I don’t ask if his dad knows where he is.

“Thanks Rosie,” he says when he’s done, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and then bending down to give me a kiss. “I hate to eat and run, but-”

“Go,” I say. “You need this job.”

He gives me a quick hug and then runs outside to his car, firing it up and racing down the driveway. His driving scares me sometimes. I shake my head as I take another sip of coffee. I’ll hear about Noah’s car still being here in the morning from Peter if I don’t work late tonight, which I probably will. At the diner, there’s always something to do. I get up and grab my bag, heading out the door to the crappy car Noah always has to fix for me. When I pull out of the driveway I run over the side of the ditch by the road. I’m not the best driver.

I think about what happened yesterday and a little cloud of gloom seems to settle over my head. Yesterday of all days. But why did it have to be any day? Why did my uncle have to return and start something, why couldn’t he have left well enough alone?

But it was never well enough with our family. The McGowan's had plenty of skeletons in their closet and were always insistent on piling the bones into everybody else's. It made me sick, literally. It was a good thing Noah had managed to convince me last year to wean off the pills the doctors were feeding me by the bucketload and go to therapy instead. It helped, but sometimes the weekly sessions were enough to make me think I was a faulty piece of work.

Noah wasn’t exactly all there either, which made me feel better. Even though I had been through a lot, I felt like he had a better reason for being broken, with his mother being dead since he was a child. But even that hadn’t changed him too much.

I bit my lip, wondering about my uncle’s words. Marcus said I would pay, and it would be soon. But hadn’t I already suffered enough? Hadn’t my mother and I gone through enough of my father’s endless games? His disorder had gotten so bad I hadn’t seen him in over three years. Not that it mattered, because the state required that he be supervised when he saw me anyway. Long ago I had hoped the doctors and hospitals would help him to get better, but now I knew better. My father never stuck with the prescribed plan, and it was obvious he didn’t love me enough to do so to try and get better. I was done dealing with him.

I grab the necklace Noah got for me. Whatever happened, it didn’t matter. I could get through it with Noah by my side. But how much longer would that be for? How much longer could he deal with a crazy person like me, deal with my insane family? Noah was strong, but he couldn’t carry all my baggage forever...

“Cut it out!” I shouted to myself, and I pulled into the college parking lot. I
had
to stop doing that. Thinking that he was a goner, thinking he was going to leave me. It was a constant cycle of worry and pain that I didn’t need right now. I just needed to trust him. Trust that he loved me, and trust that we were strong enough to outlast anything. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel and got out of my car. I was so
done with this roller coaster.

As I began my walk to class I shook my head. Nobody and nothing was strong enough to outlast the McGowan’s. But if I loved Noah, I had to believe we could. I had to try.

“Lady, I need more ice!”

“Can we have a couple boxes?”

“This isn’t fully cooked, we want a refund! Where’s your manager?”

“I’ll get right on it!” I shout to all of them at once, carrying a full tray of food in one hand, dirty dishes in the other. Every table at the diner is full tonight, and there’s only two waitresses on staff...me and Kendra.

And right now, Kendra is nowhere to be seen.

I grit my teeth, running around to help as many tables as I can and ignoring the ones that scream at me as I run by. I feel like I’m in the throes of chaos. “Rosemary, what are you doing, this food has been waiting to go out for ages,” my boss says as I whirl in the kitchen to place another order.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get it right out!” I tell him, grabbing four plates at once and hurrying out the door. I love my job, I really do, but Friday nights are always the worst. I glance at the silverware and realize we’re going to run out very soon, and I have no time to wrap any more. The dishes are going to take me an hour and a half to finish, if I don’t get any help. All the cooks are busy, so unless Kendra comes in...

“Where have you been?” I ask as I watch her walk leisurely into the dining area, putting her apron on casually. “I’ve been taking care of your tables.”

She shrugs and says, “Sorry. Who all do I have left?”

“Just the old lady and the family of four by the window,” I tell her, my face burning. “All the rest of them left.”

“Did you get my tips?” she asks, hand extended.

“Yes.” Wanting to claw her eyes out but not wanting to get fired, I reach into my pocket and pull out the money
I made
, but that’s technically hers. She pockets about twenty dollars worth of cash and says, “Okay. I guess I can take it from here.”

Yeah, because I’m picking up the other ten tables!
I want to scream, but I keep quiet. Kendra is the queen of Lousdale Lounge and the bosses daughter. Anything goes when she’s giving the orders around here.

Two hours later the customers are gone and everything’s back in order. I’m soaking wet from washing dishes so fast and my feet are killing me, but I’m happy. I made a lot of money tonight. Miraculously I manage to get out on time, but it’s right on the dot. I’m practically crawling to my car. Every single fiber in my muscles ache. All I want to do is fall into bed.

The lights are all off when I pull in the driveway. Confused I go inside, turn on the lights and read the note pinned to the fridge.

Peter and I are going out to dinner. We’ll be out late. Lock the door.

-
             
Mom

I throw my keys on the counter. Typical. Nobody’s here when I get home, either. I’d almost rather be yelled at. Taking my work shirt off and tossing it into the laundry room I throw on an old Lousdale High t-shirt and a jacket that’s in the clean basket. I’ll sleep in my jeans tonight, I don’t care. It’s more work than I’m willing to go through to change them.

I throw myself on the couch and turn on the TV. I’m too irritated to try and sleep right now. As I begin flipping through random channels, I can’t seem to focus on anything but that note on the counter. I miss my parents and the way it used to be. But ever since I got older and out of high school, things changed. I’m not quite sure how or why, but they did, and I’ve been on a rocky relationship with them ever since.

Sometimes, it felt like the only one who really loved me was Noah.

I sigh and throw the remote down, giving up. I go to the phone and call Noah’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. I keep calling, three different times, but he doesn’t answer.

I throw the phone down and gaze off into space, now over the top with anger. I bet nobody cares. Nobody gives a crap that I’m here all alone...

The phone rings. I dash to pick it up and then answer, my voice a sharp, short note. “Hello?”

It’s Noah. “Hey Rosie. Blow up my phone, will ya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, beginning to calm down. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

There’s a bit of silence at the other end. “Well, um...I’m hanging out with Michael at the moment. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

Rage flickers up in my insides, but I push it back down. “Fine. Sure. Go ahead. I don’t care. I’ll see you later.”

“No, now you’re getting upset. Rosie, what’s bothering you? You don’t sound right. Tell me. Is it about yesterday?”

“I’ve told you for the last time Noah, I’m fine!” I say, and my voice gets louder than I want it to. “I don’t care about yesterday!”

“Don’t snap at me,” he says, and his voice gets angry too. “And don’t lie either. You do care, or else you wouldn’t be acting this way.”

“I’m not lying! I just had a hard day at work, that’s all,” I say, and my insides squirm. “It’s not like you care though.”

“Just because you had a hard day doesn’t mean you should take it out on me,” he says.

“I’m not! I’m trying to tell you how I feel and you don’t want to listen.”

“When did I ever say that-” Noah makes an aggravated noise into the phone. “Rosie, I’m not going to do this tonight.”

“You’re the one making it an issue. Nothing’s wrong,” I tell him.

“Yes, there is! If there wasn’t you wouldn’t be acting this way.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not the only one.”

“Oh, so I’m crazy now, I see how it is,” I hiss.

“You said it, not me. You’re the one who keeps repeating it nonstop.”

“This wouldn’t even be happening if you didn’t let me down again, all I want to do is to talk to you for five minutes before I go to sleep, is that too much to ask?”

“Sorry to be such a disappointment to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“How do you know what I was thinking?” I say, and my voice gets louder.

“Because I know you. And sorry Rosie, but I can’t be there 24/7 to jump whenever you want me to. I have to have time for myself.”

“It’s
always
about you, Noah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I go to work and school and still find time to see you, but it’s not like you appreciate it.”

“Rosie, I work. Ten hour days most of the week. My job is hard. I need some time to myself,” he tells me.

“I’m alone all of the time unless I’m with you, and you want more time for yourself? Whatever, Noah.”

“We’ve got to find time to live our lives. Look, our relationship’s important, but we’ve got to figure out other things first.”

“I am living my life! I’m way ahead of where you are! I’ve got college credit. What have you done for the past year?”

“I haven’t done nothing, if that’s what you’re saying,” he says, and his words get even more rapid.

“Right, you’re working on your
grand plan,”
I say. “Whenever you manage to figure that out in the next ten years call me up, will you?”

“I’m so sick of you pressuring me into this. I know what I’m doing! How about you worry about what you’re doing before you nag me about it?” He hesitates. “Rosie, I’d do anything for you. You know that. But this emotional stuff, the ups and downs with you...this pushes me over the edge. I don’t know if I can keep up with it anymore.”

The phone goes dead quiet. There’s a minute of nothingness before Noah breaks the silence. “Rosie, I’m sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

My voice chokes up. Tears sprouting out my eyes, I manage to croak out, “I’m gonna go.” I hang up on him.

The second I’m off the phone he calls me again. And again. He calls five more times in a row, but I don’t pick up. I don’t want to argue anymore. A pit of guilt is settling in my stomach as I recall the words from our argument. I think about it, and realize that I’ve been feeling horrible ever since Marcus showed up at the cookout.

Noah’s right. Yesterday is
affecting me more than I want to admit. The worst part about the whole conversation is that I didn’t get to say anything I wanted to. How I was tired from dealing with everything at work, and upset that my parents could never be here. That I loved him, and I wanted him to have a good time at Michael’s, and that I couldn’t wait to talk to him the next morning. But it came out all wrong, and there was no excuse for it.