I’ll Meet You There (30 page)

I’d gone by my mom’s place a few times—I started thinking of it that way, as
Mom’s place
, instead of home. Billy’s truck was often there, but when it wasn’t, I’d slip an
envelope filled with cash into the mail slot. No note or anything, but she’d know
it was from me. We may have been on hiatus from each other, but I wanted to make sure
she was eating. I knew we’d have to talk face-to-face eventually, but I wasn’t ready.
Not with everything else going on. I’d have to check on her soon, though. I felt selfish
and guilty being relieved at not having to carry her burdens.

I’d started a nightly ritual of going through every piece of mail I’d ever gotten
from San Francisco, trolling the website, e-mailing with my roommate. I created origami
sculptures out of my acceptance letter and the pages I’d torn from the booklet they’d
sent me. I didn’t know if I was preparing to go to San Fran or getting ready to say
good-bye to the dream. It was like I couldn’t make a decision. I didn’t know what
I was waiting for. Mom wasn’t going to change anytime soon. And everything with Josh
was over. So why couldn’t I just go?

Josh and I had gotten really good at avoiding each other. I was only working graveyards
now (Amy was ecstatic about my sudden desire to spend the cool Creek View nights holed
up in the stuffy Paradise lobby), so the only time I saw him was by sheer accident.
He’d look like he was about to say something, and I’d brush past him, into Market
or out of Ray’s. He didn’t come to the gas station on weekends, and Dylan said he
must have memorized her shift schedule because he hadn’t once come in while she’d
been working at Ray’s.

“Because he knows I’d give him a piece of my mind,” she said, which was true. You
don’t cross the people Dylan loves.

I saw Jenna Swenson a few times: pumping her gas or in the drive-thru lane at McDonald’s.
Whenever we saw each other, she’d look away quickly, and once or twice I caught her
staring at me. It occured to me that Jenna’s heart might be broken too. Maybe she
felt just as used up as I did. When it came to Josh, we were both collateral damage.

Still, each time I saw her, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she had that I
didn’t. It was stupid, I knew, but I hated the thought of her hands on Josh—of his
on her. When these sorts of things came up, I’d retreat into my cave of a room and
cut, glue, create.

It was Blake, of all people, who tried to break the silence. I was at the gas station
on a Saturday night, flipping through one of the glossy magazines we sold. I’d been
there for three hours, and the lights were giving me a headache—that and the piped-in
pop music. It was the kind of night when it felt like every stupid song was written
for you, and I kept having this ridiculous fantasy that I didn’t even want to come
true, of Josh walking in and telling me he loved me and somehow managing to sweep
me off my feet. But my life had suddenly become a Taylor Swift song: breakups and
heartache and other girls. I knew there was nothing he could say that would take me
back to the moments before he left my room. And I didn’t think he wanted to go back.
He obviously hadn’t been happy to be there in the first place.

The electronic bell rang, and I looked up. For a second, my heart literally stopped
because I thought it was Josh—somehow, I’d seen the eyes first. Those blue-green swirls.

“Blake.”

I didn’t have a problem with him, not really, but my voice betrayed how very little
I wanted to do with his family and, if I was being honest with myself, a little disappointment.

“Hey, Skylar. How’s it going?”

I shrugged. “Slow. I’m waiting for all the drunk people to come in.”

“What time does that usually happen?”

“Anytime after ten.” I closed the magazine and moved over to the register. “You on
pump six?”

“Uh, no, actually. I sort of came in here to talk to you.” He fiddled with the Giants
cap he was wearing and looked everywhere but at me.

“About?”

“You know.” He grabbed a bottle of 5-Hour Energy, rolled it around on the counter,
tossed it from hand to hand.

“I’m not a mind reader, Blake,” I said. I grabbed the bottle out of his hand and put
it back on the pyramid display I’d made.

He took off his cap, ran a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t know what the deal
is with you and my brother, but ever since … you know, the party at the creek and
all, he’s—I’m really worried about him.”

“Well, then, you should probably give Jenna Swenson a call. I hear she’s pretty good
at cheering him up.”

“Dude, Jenna’s a slut, and we both know that. Josh doesn’t give a shit about her.”

“I’m not really sure why we’re having this conversation, but if you think it will
impress me that Josh doesn’t care about the ‘sluts’ he uses, it doesn’t.”

“Okay. Sorry I used that word. I’m just saying that he doesn’t … Dude, you know this
is a really weird conversation to have with you. I mean, we’ve hooked up, and I have
no idea what went down between you and Josh—”

“Nothing happened,” I said. Of course everyone probably thought I
slept
with Josh and then got ditched by him so that he could mess around with Jenna Swenson
on the same night.

“Whatever. The point is, he isn’t the same since ‘nothing’—as you say it—happened
between you two.”

“What do you mean
not the same
?”

Blake frowned for a second, then looked up at me, finally meeting my eyes. “He’d kill
me if I told anyone this, but … He gets these nightmares. Like, really bad ones. From
the war. Every night, Skylar. And when you guys were hanging out a lot, he wasn’t
getting them. Or at least not like before—I wasn’t waking up in the middle of the
night because my brother was screaming like he’d just lost his leg.”

I looked down at my hands, clasping and unclasping them. No matter what he’d done
to me, I’d never have wished that on Josh. It broke my heart. I thought of him by
the pool, saying he was a waste of space. How could someone hurt you so bad but you
still wanted to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay?

“Look,” Blake said. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for Josh—he’s a Marine
and a Mitchell and he can deal. It’s just … I feel like it’s Day One of him being
home all over again, and I want my brother back. I want him to be, I don’t know,
happy.
”

My heart sort of lifted at the brief image that flashed in my head of Josh being lovesick
over me, but then I remembered he was a bastard.

“Why are you here, Blake? Because I’m working, and this really isn’t the place for
an intervention, or whatever it is you’re doing.”

The door dinged, and a couple of kids came in and headed for the candy aisle. It looked
like they were going to take their time.

“Talk to him,” Blake said. “Please. He’s messed up. I know he’s sorry for whatever
he did. Josh needs someone like you, okay?”

Someone
like
me or
me
? Because there was a huge difference. Didn’t matter anyway—I’d already told him how
I felt.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.” And I was—for Blake, for his family. I knew what it
was like to see someone you loved suffering. “And I think you’ve got the wrong idea
about me and Josh. I didn’t matter to him. Not much, anyway.”

The kids finally walked up, each with a candy bar in his hand. Blake moved to the
side, and I used my happy everything’s-great voice as I reached for their candy.

“Hey, guys.” I rang up the bars, careful to keep my focus on the kids, my not-so-subtle
message of
go away
to Blake. “Good choices.”

The little boy with the five-dollar bill clutched in his hand said, “Thanks.”

“Okay, Sky. I’m gonna … I guess I’ll see you around.”

I nodded. “Yep. Night.”

When the store was empty again, I buried my head in my hands. I hadn’t realized how
much Josh had been helping me get through the summer until he wasn’t there anymore.
I wanted him to ask me how the Sky was. And then I wanted him to make it stop raining.

*   *   *

Chris and Dylan sprawled on the cat pee couch in the Paradise lobby while I kept my
post behind the front desk. Chris was leaving in a few days for Boston, and the three
of us were trying to spend as much time together as possible. It was nine, the beginning
of my graveyard, and we were just finishing up some Blizzards from Dairy Queen. I’d
refused to get mint and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, even though it was my favorite.

“I wonder if they have these in Boston,” Chris said. “Did you know they call milkshakes
frappes
?”

“That’s weird,” Dylan said.

“And they call sprinkles
jimmies
.”

“Oh, God. You’re going to come back with some weird accent, aren’t you?” she said.

“I don’t know of any Mexican-Americans with Boston accents. My family would never
let me live it down.”

“You all packed?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’ll just do it the night before. I mean, it’s not like I have that
much stuff to bring. It’s a tiny-ass dorm room, you know?”

“It’s gonna be so cold there,” Dylan said. “Like, snow and everything!”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’re going to have a blast.”

I pictured the deferral forms that were sitting on the little table in my room. I’d
already filled them out and checked the little box that said I would not be going
to San Francisco University until January or maybe even next fall, but I hadn’t been
able to mail them yet. I was still waiting for a sign—something from the universe
that said, very definitively, “Stay” or “Go.”

Chris hesitated for a second, then said, “Have you decided about—”

“Still on the fence.” I cut my pictures of the strawberry fields into tiny diamond
shapes. They were next on my collage. “Being here with Marge is good, though.”

Dylan blew on her toenails and applied a second coat of nail polish. “You do have
a sweet deal over here. Well, except for the fact that Josh is still on staff. Why
hasn’t Marge fired his ass?”

I hadn’t told them about Blake’s visit. Part of me wanted to protect Josh, even though
I knew he didn’t deserve it. I wondered if it was a coincidence, his nightmares going
away when we were hanging out so much.

“He’s a good worker,” I said. “Plus, it’s not like she knows about … that stuff. It
doesn’t matter. We’re on opposite schedules anyway. Plus there’s always the chance
he’ll stay in the Marines. He might be gone in a few weeks.”

I hated how it made me miserable, thinking of him going. The only thing worse than
having Josh around would have been never seeing him again.

A pair of headlights swept across the window, and I heard the familiar sound of Marge’s
1960s VW bug. A minute later, the screen door opened and Marge walked in—with my mother
trailing behind her.

“Mom?”

“Hey, baby,” she said.

Marge motioned for Chris and Dylan to follow her to the pool. “Let’s give them a second.”

They stood, exchanging a nervous look. When she walked by me, Marge patted my hand.
“If we get any customers, just holler.”

My mom stood by the door, like she was afraid to come any closer. She was thinner,
paler, but she was clean and had dressed in a flowy skirt and beaded tank top I’d
always thought she looked nice in.

I slid off my stool and walked across the lobby, not stopping until my arms were around
her.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered.

She still smelled like Mom. Even the trace of cigarette smoke that clung to her hair
felt familiar and nice. She started crying, a silent sob that shook her body. I could
feel her tears on my cheeks as I pressed her to me.

“I’m so sorry, Sky,” she said in a choked voice. “So, so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s all okay now.”

She hadn’t said anything, but seeing her outside the trailer, showered and dressed—I
knew we were going to make it through this. I let go of her and took her hand, guiding
her over to the couch.

“You want anything from the vending machine—Coke or water or something?”

She shook her head and patted the spot next to her. It was still warm from Dylan’s
and Chris’s bodies. She ran her hand through my hair and tilted her head to the side
as she took me in.

“Are you okay, baby? You look”—she bit her lip—“older.”

I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. I let my head fall into her lap and sobbed
like I had always wanted to when I was a little girl, after Dad died.

“
Shhhh
,” she whispered. “
Shhhh
.”

I let her run her fingers through my hair and rub my back. For once, it felt good
to be helpless. After a while, I sat up and wiped my eyes.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Her own eyes were wet too. “Look at us,” I said, gesturing to our blotchy faces.

“I know. What a pair.” She squeezed my hand. “I really am, you know. Sorry.”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath. “Marge and I have been talking.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t comment on how the last time I’d suggested she talk to Marge she’d
used the phrase
when pigs fly
.

“I wanted to make sure you’d have someone close by if you needed help with anything.”

“Close by? What do you mean?”

She took a breath. “Well … Billy has a job offer in Florida—a really good one. His
friend is doing this thing with used cars. Fixing them and reselling. He said we could
make two thousand a week, easy. Billy will keep an eye out for used cars to buy, and
his friend will fix them up nice. I’d be the, I don’t know, secretary. Or something.”

My whole body went still.

“Florida?”

“We’ll be making good money, and I can visit you—”

I stood up. “You’re going. With Billy. To
Florida
?”

“Baby, this is a good thing. A real good thing.” She smiled and reached her arms out
to me, but I backed away.

“How is this a good thing? Mom, it’s gonna fall through. Two thousand dollars a week?
No way. And what will you do if it doesn’t work out?”