Reaction (14 page)

I smiled toward her nose, turned, and walked out of the gym.

“Don’t worry,” she said to my back. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to see him again.”

Turning the corner out of the gym, I almost rammed into him. His darkened eyes met mine.

Your girlfriend’s flaring nose is going to fly right off her face if she keeps talking
, I wanted to tell him. But instead I told myself not to look or feel, just to keep walking. My gaze turned and I walked out of the building, lightening fast.

As I crossed the parking lot, her words ate at me. She was right, I needed to leave them alone. And I hated that she was right. I hated that she had what I wanted. I hated being second string. I hated that she was the victim and I was the villain. I was the bad guy, the evil queen, the wicked witch, the jealous stepsister. And there was a part of me that did feel inadequate, just as she’d said. In some ways, I would never measure up to her. Of course in others, like having enough common sense to wear flats to school, I was leaps and bounds above her.

Normally, if I were thinking, I would have walked out of the backside of the building to avoid running into them. But I wasn’t thinking, or maybe I was thinking too much. Either way, I exited out the front door and saw them again in the parking lot. I averted my eyes, pretending not to notice, and kept an even pace down the sidewalk, thankful to at least be walking in the opposite direction.

It would be a long walk home, a half-hour walk at best, if I didn’t stop for a sugar fix, which I probably wouldn’t today. Penny was acting up this morning and Creed had left early for work. So walking was my only option, which wasn’t a bad one since I enjoyed the fresh air and exercise. Yes, that was what I would think about: how beautiful the fall weather was. Mild and sunny. And sunshine was so much nicer than clouds.

And then, once I arrived home, I would take off my jeans, throw some chips and cheese in the microwave, and relax on the couch with a plateful of nachos. Then I would play around with the antiques I’d bought at the garage sales last weekend.

Most of all, I would not mope.

I turned out of the school parking lot and waited to cross the street, wondering why in the huge world I kept bumping into them. They were in his car, stopped at the stop sign, windows rolled down, waiting behind a little VW. The VW guy waved for me to cross. To my utter embarrassment, Nick’s voice pricked my ears. “Where’s your car?”

I couldn’t stand on the corner forever. And I couldn’t walk the other direction without giving myself away. And the VW guy was only obeying the crosswalk laws. So I stepped off the curb and began to walk, pretending I hadn’t heard him.

“It’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Nope,” I said, glancing in his direction, careful not to focus on the passenger’s side. “Just wanted to walk.”

“Right.” He could tell I was lying. It didn’t matter. At this point my dignity was so long gone that I didn’t care much about anything. I was also done talking, and the look I flashed as I passed told him so.

He must not have been looking however, because a few seconds later, a large black jeep pulled up beside me, with the passenger’s side nearest me.

“Get in. We’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks for the offer. But I’d rather walk.” And I kept walking.

“Don’t be bull-headed, Heather, just get in.” I stopped, turned toward the car, and took in a girl with perfect posture staring at me with what a stranger might describe as the sweetest smile.

Unbelievable.

“I’m good,” I said with a smirk on my face, shaking my head at her. At least my smile was genuine.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and sharing that “You don’t always have to be so tough” look he used to give me.

I answered by silently meeting his gaze. There were so many ways I wanted to respond, too many things to say. No, I wasn’t tough. I was weak. But I was learning each day how to be stronger. I was slowly picking up the pieces of my life and putting them back together. I was fighting a battle inside, and doing a pretty darn good job, on defense at least. I was staying sturdy and cheerful and motivated. So, maybe I was tough. Maybe I would come out of this all right. Maybe I would eventually be a better me. I just had one final question.

Could she feel the chemistry between us as he and I stared at each other?

Ughh, what was wrong with me? “See ya,” I said, turning with purpose and heading down the street without a backward glance.

“See ya,” came the reply, which would have been fine had the voice not been a high one.

I hated her. I hated him. And I wanted to slash all of his tires.

*******

A lot happens in three years. Your best friend grows six inches, engagements, your other best friend’s hair grows six inches, engagements, and your favorite grandma’s body shuts down from a little cold gone bad.

“Grandma V didn’t have a big funeral,” Creed explained as we drove. “Her two children and some grandchildren came in from back east and had a small memorial service at the funeral home. That was it.”

“Did you get her flowers?”

“Two roses,” he said, nodding to reassure me. “A yellow one from me and a red one from you.”

“Thank you.” I squeezed the hand I had been holding for the past half hour as we talked fondly of Grandma V.

We were driving back home to visit her gravesite and my mom’s too, Creed and I in his ancient, white Saab, the same car that drove us to school every morning junior and senior year. The car turned silent for the first time since we’d left two hours prior. We hadn’t talked about our kiss since it happened, so I assumed he figured the same thing I did, it was a one-time thing.

The car remained quiet. So quiet that a flashback surfaced, one I wasn’t ready for. But one that was fitting since I had been thinking about Mom all week, wondering what advice she’d give me if she were here.

The flashback began:

“My parents are going to grab a bite to eat,” a blonde, moppy-haired Creed said as they watched the black hearse leave the cemetery, the one that carried her mother’s casket to the gravesite earlier that day. “Are you coming?”

“I’m not very hungry,” the lost fifteen-year-old girl replied as she sat against the graveyard’s large shade tree and took out the yellow bow in her hair. She hadn’t wanted to wear it, but it was Mom’s favorite, so….

“You have to eat or you’re going to disappear, Heath.”

She thought about that, deciding he was probably right. “Does it have to be food? A milkshake sounds better.”

“I bet my parents would drop us off at the shake shack on their way to the restaurant.”

“Okay.” She reached out and took the hand that helped her up. “Is it my turn or yours to choose the flavor?”

“It’s always your turn,” he reminded her. “You’re the picky one.”

They shared a smile, she because she loved how he didn’t treat her any different despite the gloomy day, and he because he loved to make her smile.

Trifling to most, but at that moment she couldn’t have been any more grateful for him. Not for letting her choose the milkshake flavor—because even malted caramel didn’t sound good after burying your mom—but because he knew she was picky. He knew that about her. And the only other person who knew that about her was gone.

“Actually, I feel like your favorite today, mint chip,” she announced.

“You hate mint chip.”

“Not today. Today mint chip sounds perfect.”

Creed guided her around another gravestone, onto the small lane that led to his parent’s car. “Are you sure you don’t want malted mint chip caramel?”

The idea nudged her funny bone. It felt healing to laugh. Creed joined in and they laughed as one for a moment.

Heather wished she could hold on to the lightness, but the day couldn’t be fixed by laughter. It couldn’t be fixed by anything. She only wanted to forget about today. So she told Creed, “Listen, don’t make a big deal about this at school, okay? No one needs to know about it.”

“Heath, everyone already knows about it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to be a charity case or anything like that. I’m fine.” Reactively, she reached her hand to her neck and held to the pearl necklace that once belonged to her mom.

He nodded, knowing she would deal with it in her own way, the most optimistic way possible, never complaining about what life had dealt her, remaining content and hopeful, because that’s how she was. She was a fighter.

He stared at her in admiration, with a look that said he wished he could make life better.

Noticing, she hoped he realized how much she treasured his friendship. And how comforting it was to lean on him, to lose the tough-girl façade and have someone who knew everything. Who always picked her up, brushed her off, and told her she would make it. He would forever be her hero.

A quick flash from her left got her attention—Creed’s mom taking a private picture of them, which was fine since that would be the only physical memory from this day; Heather didn’t want another.

The car was leaving to the restaurant in a few minutes, Creed’s mom had said, agreeing to drop them off for milkshakes; she’d always been loving to Heather. In fact, this wasn’t the first time in the last week Heather wondered why Creed’s family couldn’t have custody of her instead of her step-dad, Bill. Heaven knew they were more fit for the job.

Why did it have to turn out that the town bum—a mouthy, ill-mannered, lousy drunk—was now her only legal guardian? Could her mom have had worse taste in men?

The bright side: at least Bill kept to himself—most of the time.

Whatever.

Thank goodness she had Creed. If it weren’t for him, she’d have to drive home with Bill. And there would have been nothing worse than a depressing drunk after a depressing funeral.

“Thanks for coming, Creed,” Heather said when his mom walked away. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to think about that. I’ll always be here.” And their arms latched together.

Yes, he would be. Because she couldn’t imagine life without him.

“Some day this is all going to be different,” he vowed. “You’ll see. We’ll make it different, you and me. I promise.”

A bump in the road brought me back to the moment.

I recalled the picture from the funeral; the one Creed’s mom snapped. It was the same picture Doc showed me in the hospital right after I’d woken from my coma. He used it to jog my memory regarding Mom’s death. Crazy how the past and the present can scroll together in such a way that time becomes nearly non-existent. I wondered how Creed would feel if I told him what day I was thinking about.

I browsed to the side to see in the driver’s seat a very different Creed than the one from my memories; a tall, scruffy-cheeked, grown-up Creed, loudly singing completely off-key to a song on the radio.

My smile was automatic.

As I reflected on our past, the unspoken promise was that we’d grow old together, be safe and secure in each other’s lives and hearts, and have a stress-free, joy-filled life. He would finally be able to take care of me in ways he wanted to back then.

Yet even back then there were dreams inside of me that he didn’t know about. Dreams that I might not have fully understood either. Where I had seen our solid past, he’d seen our solid future.

I wondered if that had changed.

“So, how have your pilot-prep flights been going?” I asked Creed, realizing how far my thoughts had wandered—long, relaxing road trips did that to me.

He turned off the radio and answered, “Two more months and I’ll have my commercial license. The position I told you about for the private airlines is panning out well. It looks like I’ll probably get it.”

“That’s great, Creed. I’m sure it’s not common for a pilot to have a job lined up before they have their license. It says a lot about your skills.”

“It’s fortunate, that’s for sure. I’ll be hubbed right in St. Louis, too. And I don’t plan on moving. I like it where I am. ”

“Yeah, why would you move? It’s a nice place, and a great location. And Peter’s a good roommate.”

Creed would be successful in anything he put his mind to. I felt pride for the man in my best friend.

Filling the silence in soothing ways was the fresh, early afternoon air whirling through the cracked front window and the loud humming engine traveling across the sunlit highway. There was nothing better than zooming down a lonely countryside with no time constraints and a best friend on hand.

Soon Creed stole my musings with a warm palm to my thigh, causing my head to angle upward. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?

What was he trying to say? Did I understand? Either way, what I did or didn’t understand about Creed was lost in the trust and unconditional love I felt for him.

“Heath, you know what my plans have always been and what I’ve wanted for us. You’ve known since I made Justin Harwood dare me to kiss you in the fifth grade. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I doubt I ever will.”

“I thought you were dating someone? I saw a girl come over and I thought—”