Something Of A Kind (8 page)

“He’s not home yet,” she sighed, glancing back at the empty
house. “He never gave me a key.”

 

“We’ll go get a drink or something. There’s a little shop on my
way back.”

 

“Are you sure? I could just call my dad and wait on the steps.”

 

“Yeah, I am. You seem surprised,” he laughed.

 

“I just… You knew exactly what to do. I’m kind of… totally
frazzled,” she confessed, following his motion for her to sit down.

Noah twisted the stereo up as he backed onto the street, pulling
up the hill to turn around. When he could risk a glance, he watched
her fingers tapped to the music. Most people heard the drums. She
felt the bass.

It’s kind of perfect.

The parking lot to the Seaside Minimart was deserted, lights
flickering over the pumps like cracked spotlights. He parked away
from the dumpsters, unconcerned with the walk towards the
building. Ashland was in the middle-of-nowhere, and even the gas
station was too far of a commute for the local drunks to roam. Aside
from the occasional bear sighting, there wasn’t much danger in the
shadows.

Aly sat on the curb. He assumed she was texting the doctor. With
a wave of permission, Noah braved the too-bright florescent to burn
through the last of his dwindling paycheck on coffee. She nodded
happily when he told her the contents, unaware he remembered her
request for cream and sweetener from that morning. For whatever
reason, it didn’t bother him letting her think he’d made a lucky
guess.

“So what’s your plan, Aly Glass?” Noah asked, taking a seat
beside her.

While he was inside, she had migrated from the edge of the
sidewalk to a space against the concrete wall. His elbows balanced
loosely on his knees, while she seemed to curl around the steam
released from the cup’s lid.

“Are we good for tomorrow?” she replied through her hair,
staring at the sky.

He felt her take a deep breath as he pulled a lock behind her ear,
exposing
her
hidden face.
She
glanced
through her
eyelashes,
waiting for an answer. He bit his lip, staring at hers.

“Of course. That’s not what I meant though,” he continued,
swallowing a searing mouthful of hazelnut. It was too strong, too
hot, and too many grounds had passed through the filter. It burned
his tongue. He didn’t care.

“You mean for this week? For this summer?” Aly asked, her
curiosity compelling her to speak up. Her volume increased to
almost normal as she spoke.

“I don’t know. For life, I guess,” he shrugged. “You’re a junior,
right?”

 

“I will be. You?”

 

“Senior. Where are you going to school next year?”

 

“That all depends,” she answered slowly, leaning back as though
the question exhausted her.

 

He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced at him, realizing he expected more. “It depends on
whether or not I’m strong enough for Ashland. If I can handle my
father for the summer, then I’ll probably enroll at the local high
school. If I break, I run home, beg my aunt for help and the court for
mercy.”

He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

 

She’s forced to be here? What can I say to that?

 

“The court’s making you stay in town?”

“Yeah, Greg’s definitely not my first choice,” she sighed. “It’s
not that my dad and I fight a lot, but it’s like living with a stranger. I
keep thinking maybe he’s a changeling or a wizard or something.
I’m literally expecting an owl to crash through my bedroom window
with an apology letter, explaining he’s really been with Albus
Dumbledore the whole time.”

“No way,” Noah smirked, nudging her elbow. “Your dad’s
definitely a closet death eater.”

She laughed, sounding uncertain whether it was hilarious or
ironic or both. “Of course! That explains everything. He’s awful
because he’s secretly working for Voldemort.”

“You
-KnowWho,” Noah teased, thankful Harry Potter was one
of the few pieces of childhood that hadn’t been distorted by his
parents’ troubles. Sobering at the thought of her leaving, Noah
continued, “So, where would you go if you went back to New
York?”

“I don’t really know. I mean, I’ve been staying with my aunt and
uncle, sharing a room with my cousin. They’re family, and I love
them, but it’s not like I can stay. Not when I have another legal
guardian. I always felt like I was intruding in their home. Or at least
making it hard for them to move on. I thought it would be better
with Greg, but with him, I’m not just intruding. I’m an entire
invasion. We’re each an outsider in each other’s world. He prefers
his isolation.”

“Part of you wanted to come to Ashland, though.” He noted,
with one finger pulling away from the cup to point at nothing. “It
doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The researchers all hole up in their
satellite office unless they’re out on their expeditions, sectioning off
half the trails and stuff. I can’t imagine they’re home all that often.”

“He’s not,” Aly agreed. “Why do you guys keep calling him
that? It makes sense, since he’s a biologist that he would be. It just
strikes me as bizarre.”

“That’s what the townies call t
he group of scientists he works
with. They call themselves all sorts of things. I guess they work with
a B.F.R.O. type deal, but they claim they’re not an actual part of
them. I guess it’s a private industry thing. They don’t stick around
much, so I’m not sure how much of it is true.”

“The B.F.R.O.” She spoke as if repeating it would bring
recognition, but he didn’t see it clear in her confused expression.

“The
Big Foot Research Organizationor something like that.”
Chuckling, he added, “Some of them call themselves ‘Squatchers’.
It’s kind of funny. They’re pretty serious.”

She gave him a funny look, like he was revealing a third arm or
claiming he actually saw the things. “I think you’ve got my father
confused with someone else.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I don’t. You said he’s a field biologist. What
do you think he studies up here in the middle of nowhere?”

She paused, her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “You
know, I honestly have no idea. I really don’t think my dad has
anything to do with it.”

He shrugged, a palm raised in surrender. “Maybe not. It’s just
what I heard.”

 

Aly nodded, approving his explanation. As she gave it more
thought, she relaxed, her brow smoothing. “Today was fun.”

 

“It was,” he concurred.

 

Smiling at his smile, she met his eyes.

Aly was simple and somehow complicated. He couldn’t name
her favorite color or her favorite band, but he knew her cousins and
her doubts and that she loved her mother and she didn’t know the
man her father was any more than he did. He met her this morning,
and it already felt like months.
“What do you like to do, Aly?”

“In general?” she inquired, biting her lip.

 

He nodded.

 

“I paint a lot. Lately I’ve been drawing. You?”

 

He smirked. “I like music, but I dowork.”

 

“Guitar?” She guessed, one eye closed in a feigned wince.

 

“Yeah,” he said, brow raised in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” She sipped her coffee with an expression of
euphoria. Setting the cup down, she took his free hand in both of
hers. He shuddered as her fingers explored his. “Plus your hands.
They’re shaped like a pianist, but your fingertips are callused from
the strings. Oh, and the jacket. Leather’s pretty inflexible for the
sleeveless drummer type.”

“Wow. You’re a living, breathing Sherlock Holmes. Has anyone
ever told you that, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’?”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach as she laughed. The
blissful sound filled the air with delight. It was contagious. He
joined her, ignoring the nagging thoughts that it looked asinine when
it was his joke.

As she caught her breath, wiping her tired eyes, she added, “Isn’t
that from Spiderman?”

“Maybe. I think Holmes could have used it too, though. I’ll be
Watson.” He teased, poking her ribs. She flinched and recoiled back
to his side, careful not to spill her beverage. The abruptness of her
reflexes was softened by the happy noises she made, something
between a giggle, a squeal, and a threat. When Aly settled back in
place, she was closer than before. As they breathed the same air, he
felt his heartbeat in his ears.

Aly was too close.

 

Don’t move.

She was right there, their sides pressed against one another. One
of her fists clutched the fabric of his shirt, her knuckles resting
against his chest. Her free hand was interlocked with his, tan and
porcelain, hot and cold. He hadn’t noticed.

How could I not notice?

 

She smelled like lavender and vanilla. He knew he smelled like
coffee.

 

She was too close.

Then she started saying goodbye.
The doctor was a blaring his horn, just a few yards away. He
hung
halfway out the driver’s window, looking irritable and
confused.

“Thanks for everything. I appreciate you waiting with me.”

A scarlet flush clouded her pale cheeks. He held onto her hand as
she stood, unable to register her departure. She squeezed his fingers
before pulling away, waving as she disappeared by the passenger’s
side of her father’s SUV. Greg rolled up the tinted window, blocking
her smile from view.

Alyson Glass was too close.

 

She was so close.
Nothing wrong at all.
~

When Noah pulled into
Yazzie’s, he knew there would be trouble
if Lee hadn’t already crashed. He had briefly planned to compose an
apology or an argument, and to pull over to call Luke or Owen,
whichever would prove a stronger alibi. It didn’t happen. Even
halfway to the front doors, he didn’t feel concerned that he was
totally unprepared.

His thoughts were jumbled, his hands slightly shaking. He ran
the entire day in his head like a script he had to memorize, like
maybe something would suddenly make sense.

Noah startled at the hand on his shoulder. He turned around
reflexively, expecting a slap or a glare. Meeting dazed eyes, he
recognized the dark lines amplifying a partially toothless beam.

“So, who's the girl?”

 

Noah blanched, blinking until he placed Tony Gabriel’s lived-in
face.

 

“You saw her already?” he asked, unable to mask his confusion.

 

“Yeah, yes, yep. I saw her. Beautiful girl. Doctor's daughter,
yes?”

 

“She says he's not a doctor. Her name's Alyson.”

 

“Why didn't you bring her to meet the family, aye?”

 

“Because they're mental?” he answered cautiously, quirking an
eyebrow.

 

“Be careful with her, boy,” Tony warned. “Her daddy's a nut
case. Weirdest white man I ever did meet. He”

 

“Don't be racist,” Noah groaned, running a hand through his hair.
“Tony”

“Hey now, none of that,” Tony defended, hands raised. “All I'm
saying is, we don't know everyone we trust. That’s all. You've only
known ‘er how long?”

“Okay, Friar Lawrence,” Noah sighed. “Man, I’m exhausted.
Can we do this later?”

 

“Who? What now?”

 

“Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare.” Noah winced before the
words left his mouth.

“Now, that's just disturbing. Talkin’ like girls. Cut that out, boy.
You’s a man now,” Tony scolded, shaking with laughter. He
smacked Noah upside the head playfully, round hoots popping from
his lips.

His long hair slapped at his shoulders, falling away from his face
as he rocked with hacking chuckles. Noah wrinkled his nose as the
odor of bargain booze permeated the air, the overwhelming stink
like cheap cologne.

“Man, you're lit. Go home, you old drunk.”

“Be nice to an old man, now!” he howled, shaking his head and
wiping tears from his bloodshot eyes. The worn sleeves of his denim
button-up were rolled to his elbows. The shirt was a similar wash to
his rugged, paint-covered jeans, looking like the pairings of a suit.

“Barely sixty and wearing the Texas tuxedo,” Noah smirked,
summoning the energy to clap Tony's boney shoulder.

 

“Finest in town.” He tugged the faded collar. “Ready for the
coffin when it takes me.”

 

“Oh, don't talk like that, man.”

 

“A bare-assed babe, milady’s sour bastard!” He crooned.

“Sweet suicide, never alone, when I deserve to die.” Noah half
-
sang, halfsnickered. He raised an invisible glass to Tony’s old lyric.
It was a shock to most that the steely dropout harbored a tortured
poet alongside the chained up old hag. Tony played every instrument
known to man, and collected most from his travels. He had a song
for every woman and more than a few drunken verses were shared
with the world.

“My, my, honey child.” Tony yowled, his voice carrying into a
belly laugh. His hands covered his skinny ribs as they popped
through the fabric, into view. As he moved, he stumbled. Catching
himself, he managed a stiff twirl, running in a slanted circle, arms
outstretched like the wingspan of a bird. “A thousand cities, the
lower forty-eight, two babies too many, hot in the veins. Busted
jugular, Oh, my, Dee. Sweet, sweet suicide, all for me, alone, alone,
I deserve…I deserve.”

“Go home, Coot. I have no idea what you’ve been drinking. I'm
headed out, alright? I'll see you soon.”

 

“Gotta call the girlfriend.” He teased, stumbling backwards.
Noah sighed, closing the distance to the diner.

 

At least he’s still on the sidewalk.

In the silence of the night, he could hear waves crashing on the
other side of the building. The boards of the porch ramp seemed too
loud, even the
tiles in the dark
restaurant squeaking. Moving
through the kitchen, he entered the foyer connecting his home, a
lamp lit beside Mary-Agnes.