I'll Be Here (15 page)

The waiting area has been empty since we sent the last patient of the day in to see Patty twenty minutes ago.  Smirna and I don’t normally chat about our personal lives but she asked about my “handsome young man” so I had to tell her that he was
my
young man no longer. 

She inclined her head and said, “Dustin is not the handsome young man that I meant.” 

And when she winked at me I knew that she meant Alex and that she’d picked up on some kind of vibe between us when he was in the office.  I hadn’t responded and I
thought
that I’d effectively shaken her off the trail but somehow our conversation about her quilting patterns had circled back to boys and we’re now talking about my ex.

“But I want easy!”

Smirna’s voice is careful.  “You’re a good girl Willow.  Do you really and truly want that boy back?”

I just shrug. 

She tips her head forward so that her chin is almost touching her neck.  “Answer the question.”

I throw my hands up dramatically.  “Yes!  Okay?  Yes, I want him back.  I want to see the look on Taylor’s face when he comes back to me.”

“That sounds less like love and more like revenge.”

Somehow that seems like a familiar sentiment.

Smirna turns back to her desk popping a cherry flavored cough drop in her mouth.  She looks at me halfway over her shoulder and smiles.  “If it is revenge you’re after then you must make him jealous.”

***

“You should make him jealous.” 

“Oh my God!  Why does everyone keep saying that?”  I turn in my seat knocking over a binder and a pen with my arm.  A half-dozen heads look in our direction. 

Nate ignores my grimace and smiles like the Cheshire Cat as he bends to pick up the spilled things.  His white teeth show vividly against his almond lips.  “Because we’re intelligent, in the know, on the pulse… Take your pick.”

I tuck my long hair behind my ear and lower my voice to a loud whisper.  “I just feel weird about doing that.”

He sits up.  “How do you mean?”

I sigh.  “Well, I would have to use a guy—a real guy—an actual living breathing person who might be a tad offended about being used as a subject in an experiment.”

He considers that but doesn’t seem bothered by it.  “Just tell him the truth,” he says with a mild shrug. 

“Guys aren’t like girls.  There are plenty of us that don’t mind being used by a hot girl, even if it is to get her douchy ex-boyfriend back.”

“Hey,” I say slapping his arm playfully.

Nate puts his hands up in mock surrender.  “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

I raise my eyebrows and point my finger at him.  “Tell me this ‘Oh Wise One.’  Would
you
be willing to be my faux-boyfriend?”

“And blow my chances to go to prom with Alyssa Chestnut?”  He points back mimicking my gesture.  “Not even for you sweetheart.”

My chin settles onto my palm as I look around the room, studying the faces of my classmates.  Wes Hardin did ask me to prom but he’s too nice to use for some crazy scheme.  “What about Isaac?”  I say with a nod to the occupied desk in the corner of the room.

Nate gives me a look like I’m crazy.  “Nose hair?  No, no, no,” he says on a breath.  “And if I didn’t make myself clear… NO.”

I roll my eyes.  “Come on.  His nose hair is not
that
long.  That’s a nickname from freshman year.  I think we can move on.” 

As if on cue, Isaac, who doesn’t realize that he has an audience, lifts his hand to his face and deftly picks his nose.  Nate and I burst into high-pitched laughter.   

The thick slab of skin underneath Mrs. Carlson’s chin shakes as her head turns in our direction. 

“Miss James, Mr. Perry, do I need to separate the two of you?”  She is looking at us over her glasses and her voice is mocking, condescending. 

“No ma’am,” Nate says picking up his pen.

“Hmmmphh…”  She settles back in her seat.

I bend my head and pretend to be busy reading our workbook.  I angle myself so that Nate can hear me but Mrs. Carlson can’t see my lips moving.  “I don’t know what you expect.  I can’t just take my pick of guys and expect them to fall over themselves for me.”

Nate smiles.  “But I think that we can do better than Nose Hair.”  He leans closer smelling faintly of laundry soap and coconut.  “For starters, no one in this room is going to work.  We need to find someone that threatens Dustin at the cellular level.  Someone tall, dark and handsome—all that stuff that you girls go goo-goo-ga-ga over.  And Dustin needs to believe that it’s real—not some set-up.”

Okaaaay...

There is exactly one human that threatens Dustin at the cellular level.

And he told me that he would be in town this weekend.

Anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets.

~Neil Gaiman

CHAPTER TWELVE

August.  The summer before junior year.

Dustin and I had been going out for about seven months.  Mom had finished the second round of chemo a few weeks before and we were waiting on the test results that would tell us how likely it was that the cancer would come back.  Jake was like a zombie during that time.  Getting Aaron to daycare, going to work, coming home and eating dinner.  I don’t think I saw him smile a normal smile for months.  So when I walked in the door and saw that goofy, lopsided grin on his face I
knew
.   

“We’re having a party!”  He shouted in greeting.

I think I remember that there was a group hug and maybe some tears involved.  I’m not sure of the details.  I just remember that it was the first time we had felt like a family in a long time. 

A few hours later I was letting people in through the front door. 

“Great news!” They all said as they filed in with their contribution to the potluck. 

Cheers!

Yay! 

We knew she would pull through. 

Julie’s always been a fighter.

Alex handed me a ceramic platter with assorted cookies. 

I tried not jump when his fingers brushed against mine. 

I tried not to think of other times that we’d touched, of the last time when everything had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. 

He smiled. 

I tried not melt right there in the foyer. 

He said hello. 

I tried to make coherent sounds with my tangled up tongue. 

He blinked. 

I tried not to stare deeply into his blue eyes.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you never called me back,” he said with a lilt in his voice that I didn’t understand. 

I opened my mouth.  What could I say to him?  That I couldn’t handle that kind of rejection again?  That it had been much easier to avoid answering my phone and to make other plans the night a few weeks ago when I knew that he and Pete and Brooke were coming to dinner?  That I still had his jacket in my closet and I’d put it on twice just to sit around my room and feel the fabric that once touched his skin brush against mine?

And then Dustin—my
boyfriend—
was behind me, shaking hands and acting completely normal, like the world hadn’t just flipped on its axis.

“Who is that guy?”  Dustin asked me later as we stood by the open porch door.

I followed his gaze.  “Oh, you met him earlier.  That’s Alex.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.  “I got his name.  But, who is he?”

Oh, no big deal.  He’s just the boy I’ve been crushing on for years.  I tried to kiss him just before you and I started dating but he pushed me away.  I was devastated
. 

No, I didn’t say that.  I attempted to sound blasé about the whole thing.  “His mom and my mom are good friends.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Why not?”

“He keeps looking over here.” 

He does?  I turned my head quickly and sure enough, I caught Alex’s eye.  We both smiled. 

“Jesus Willow!  What the hell is that about?”

I turned back to Dustin.  His eyes were narrowed and his mouth puckered into an angry line.  “What?”

“You’re
flirting
with him.”

“No.  I’m not.  We’re just old friends.”  I put my hands on my hips. 

“You have tons of friends that are girls.  Do you see me complaining that Kristin’s family and your family went on vacation together over the summer?  Or that you and Taylor played tennis together last weekend?  No.  You don’t.  So stop being a jerk.”

“Nothing’s going on with Kristin or Taylor.  Are you telling me that nothing is going on with that guy Alex?”

“Yes.” 

Dustin still didn’t look convinced so I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips.  “I promise.”

Dustin wrinkled his nose.  “Okay, I still don’t like him.”

I didn’t think that it would be a good time to mention that Alex was older, taller and could probably kick the shit out of him.  I just laced my fingers with Dustin’s and walked him over to the food table.  What couldn’t a good bowl of chili fix?

***

It turns out that I don’t need to worry about how to get in touch with Alex.  He sends me an email sometime while I’m at school on Friday.  It’s waiting like a wrapped present when I get to get home in the afternoon.

Willow,

I was sitting in class this morning waiting for my professor’s coffee to kick in so that he could start the lecture when I got a text from my mom.  She hasn’t quite grasped the concept of the auto-correct function on her phone so it took me a few minutes to figure out what the text was about.  Basically she was berating me for not getting in touch with you sooner to talk to you about school next year. 

She’s right.  I don’t know many people in the Art Department but I would be happy to help you out with general information or whatever you need.  I’ll be home tomorrow night.  I thought I’d get there today but an unexpected project and a much needed study group popped up.  Ahhh, the life of an “architorture” student. 

A

Get this—my stomach flips over as I read the email.  And then I reread it.   

I let the email breathe in my inbox for a half an hour and then crack my fingers against each other and try to formulate a response that manages to be both friendly and aloof at the same time.  

Alex,

            Architorture, huh? 

Thanks for the offer.  I’m sure any and all assistance will be helpful.  I haven’t settled my major yet and I actually never sent my portfolio in so I probably won’t be allowed to register for any of the major-specific art classes.  I’ll most likely get a fairly generic freshman liberal arts course load when it comes time to make my schedule.

Willow

Alex’s responding email hits my inbox in less than two minutes so he must be online:

What?  You’re not planning to major in art?  Did I just black out and wake up in a parallel universe?  By the way, do you have plans Saturday night?

            A

I try to ignore the question about my major and focus on the second part of his email.  Saturday night is that party at the Hooch that Dustin mentioned.  Okay, is it completely bitchy that I wouldn’t mind seeing Dustin’s reaction if I bring Alex to the party with me?  I quickly type out an email before I lose my nerve.

I’m supposed to go to a party at the beach Saturday.  Go with me?

            I expect Alex to email me back right away but five minutes goes by, and then a half an hour, and then an hour.  Nothing.  Great.  I probably freaked him out by basically asking him to go out with me.  And does a college guy even want to go to a high school party?  Probably not. 

            There is homework that I could be doing and laundry that I could be putting away, but my brain is completely dominated by a nervous anxiety that has everything to do with Alex.  Finally, just before I flip off my computer, he emails me back. 

                         I probably won’t be able to make it in time to take you out for dinner.  Party sounds good.  Pick you up at 8:30?

            My fingers shake as I type out a response.

                        See you then

Oh.  My.  God.

Zombies hate that you are awesome.

~Unknown

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It’s  my bi-monthly dinner with my dad and his girlfriend Diana.  She pronounces her name
Dee-aaah-na
and expects the rest of us to go along with it.  She has highlighted blond hair that she wears in an over-styled shoulder-length bob.  She uses so much hairspray that I think her coif could withstand hurricane force winds.  There should be a warning sign around her neck that reads: Highly Flammable Hair. 

“Did you give any thought to which weekends you’d like to visit in the summer?”  She asks.

I shake my head and swallow the bite of eggplant parmesan that I’d been chewing for the last minute.  Diana has this thing about eating slowly.  It really irritates her when people eat too quickly.  Dad is sitting next to her in the booth checking the email on his phone for the fourth time since we sat down to eat. 

“Um, not really.  I’ve had so much going on lately with school—”

She interrupts.  “And your break-up.”

“That I haven’t really looked at the calendar,” I continue choosing to ignore her comment. 

I’d been irritated earlier when mom had told me that she’d mentioned it to dad.  The last people I needed taking an interest in my personal life were my father and his girlfriend.  I’d rather face a firing squad than have to go into the details of the whole thing with them.

She sighs, just barely hiding her disapproval.  Diana likes to schedule things.  Before she came along dad and I saw each other whenever it worked out.  Sometimes it was three times in one month.  Some months I wouldn’t see him at all because he’d be too busy working on a big case or doing whatever else was more important than me.