The Weight of Destiny (6 page)

She did give me her number, though. She doesn’t know me. She definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who gives her phone number to just anyone. Why would she be so worried about a guy like me getting home safe? I’ve never needed anyone to worry about me before, not that I do now, but I have to admit it was pretty cool of her.

You saved my life once so I guess I owe it to you to return the favor.

Oh yeah, that’s what it is. She thinks she owes me. I get that. Debts can bury you, no matter what kind they are. It’s not that she gives a shit about me; she thinks she owes me.

“Ry, you want a hit?” Drea asks, and I realize Shane pulled out his pipe again.

“Nah, I’m cool.” Pushing my hands into my pockets, I look up at the dark sky again.

If you need a ride, call. Please.

What the hell had the “please” been about? If it’s because she owes me, why would it be so important that I call? That’s what I don’t get. My friends kick ass. I’m glad to have them, and I know they’d do anything for me, but they’ve never told me to call them if I’ll be drinking at a party they’re not at.

They finish smoking and then start talking about school and Tanner’s parents. I’m half listening, half not. Then I’m trying to figure out why I’m not listening to them more instead of trying to dissect my conversation with the rich girl that I’ll never see again.

The girl with the plan, who walked out onto a collapsing dock late at night… No matter how I look at it, nothing fits when it comes to her.

A warm body pulls up against my side. “Wanna fool around?” Drea asks.

I shake my head before I realize what I’m doing. There are zero reasons for me not to want to screw around with Drea. Unattached sex with a girl who wants nothing more than sex and friendship from me? I’ve always signed my name on that dotted line.

“Oh.” Drea puts space between us.

My eyes shoot to Shane, who’s looking at me like I just broke her heart and he’s her protective Dad with a shotgun behind his back.

“I’m not really feelin’ so hot,” I say, lamely.

“He’s just not man enough to handle you.” Shane winks at her. This is what we do. We always have Drea’s back.

Drea looks a little unsure of herself for a second, but then recovers quickly. “Eh, been thinking about trading him in for another plaything anyway. Thanks, Shane.”

He gives her a simple nod. I nudge Drea’s side, and she looks at me and smiles. A breath I didn’t realize I held pushes from my lungs. I need to know we’re okay. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss her forehead. “You know I love you, Dre.”

Until Dad comes back, these guys are the only people in my life who I know will always be there. No matter what Luke says, I know the second he’s free of me, he’ll be gone.

CHAPTER NINE

~Virginia~

There was once a girl named Control. There was nothing she needed more than her name. It was everything to her. It defined her.

~*~

My dad’s a lawyer. When he and Mom were together, he rarely went out of town on business. He tried to stay home as much as possible. Now that I’m older, he leaves from time to time for a conference or something like that. It’s not like he worries that he can’t trust me.

I remember one time, he had a conference he couldn’t get out of. He sat Mom and I down at the dining room table to talk about it. That’s what Dad does—he talks. Mom creates when she’s having a hard time—books or art, it doesn’t matter. Dad talks. I look for distractions.

So, Dad sat us down to talk. It really wasn’t a big deal, he said. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Mom with me. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been doing well for a while, but we all knew there was a little worry when it came to him being gone for more than a workday.

One of her personalities, Samantha, had once thrown a party when Dad was at work. Not the kind of party most parents go to, either. Once Robin had been afraid someone would break in, and I had to hide with her in the closet until Dad got home.

Yes, I’m being serious. I can’t put into words what it’s like to see my own mom that way. To see her face, and her hair, and her hands. To recognize the scent of her, but to know she’s not the one in control. That later she’ll be back, and when she finds out what she’s done, she’ll be broken. That’s typically when the depression would sink in.

Dad promised it would be okay. Mom promised she would be fine.

I knew otherwise.

Monday, things had been fine. Tuesday as well. Wednesday, I got up for school to see Mom sitting in a chair in my room watching me, practically bouncing with too much excitement.

“Finally! It’s about time you got up. Let’s go! I want to get out of here, and your dad will freak if I don’t take you with me.”

It wasn’t Mom. It was Samantha.

“Where do you want to go?” I remember noticing the shake in my own voice.

“There’s a concert in Los Angeles. If we leave soon, we can make it.” She pushed to her feet.

My eyes darted to the side to look for the phone but it wasn’t there.

“I took it. Like I didn’t know the first thing you would do is try to call your dad. He ruins all the fun.”

My heart beat so hard it started to hurt. “I can’t go. I have school. They’ll call Dad if I’m not there.”

“And we’ll already be on the road by then. If I leave you here, you’ll call him the second I go. Come on. What kind of kid are you? You’re supposed to want adventure. You’re supposed to want excitement!”

That had been the first time I wondered if something was wrong with me. If I had it wrong and she was right. If being responsible didn’t mean I
was
crazy. What kind of kid told on their own parent?

A little burst of excitement lit under my skin. It felt like a mini-explosion. I’d never been to L.A. It could be fun taking the six-hour drive.

“Seriously, show me you’re not such a bore. Let’s go, Lulu.” Calling me a bore was the reminder that feeling excitement over something like this was wrong. I didn’t want to be like her. She was Samantha and she did crazy things and caused problems for Dad and I.

Even when she was Mom, she was the girl whose mother had left her when she was a teen. She’d never told anyone, deciding to be homeless instead, painting murals around the cities she visited and writing stories about them.

She’d told me most of the stories.

Right then, she was Samantha, and Samantha hated me because I was a responsibility.

“I won’t tell. I promise. Just go.” It wasn’t like I couldn’t get myself to school okay for a few days. Even then I’d known it.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” She’d made her way to the door and stopped. “Are you sure, kid? It’ll be a blast. Live a little.”

I’d paused. Really paused. Then I shook my head and she left.

It was the first time I hated my mom, because for a second, she’d made me want to go. That scared me more than anything. I’d almost lost control and done something reckless. I’d wanted to.

I don’t know why, but it’s that story that plays in my head as Hailey and Jamie try and talk to me over lunch. No, not just talk, we do that every day. I knew that sooner or later they would ask me about the incident at school. I guess they’d been biding their time, waiting to ambush me.

There’s brief seconds where I want to tell them everything and that scares the crap out of me.

“Ah.” I nod my head. That’s where the memory came from, because I almost let go of my control today, just like I had that day.

“Ah, what?” Jamie asks, a heavy weight in her eyes. She cares. They both do. I get that. But how can I tell Mom’s secret? She’s been able to keep it all this time. We’ve been able to keep it. I’d be lying if I pretended that someone finding out didn’t scare the crap out of me.

It would make my life-story true.

It would take the control that I so need out of my hands.

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “The
ah
meant nothing, and the thing the other day wasn’t that big a deal. It’s not even worth talking about. Did you guys start your essay?”

“Lulu, that wasn’t nothing the other day. That was—”

“Please,” I cut Hailey off. “Please. I can’t… I just can’t.” It isn’t much, but it’s all I can give them. I don’t want to keep secrets from my friends. Again, I wish I could open my mouth and let it all spill out, but what if they look at me differently? It’s one of my biggest fears—for the people I care about to look at me and wonder if I’m crazy. To wonder if I could grow up and be like Mom, who isn’t always Mom at all.

I don’t want to be different.

It’s Jamie who speaks first. She starts talking about her essay. From the looks they share with each other, it’s obvious that I let them down, but I grab onto the subject change like a lifeboat.

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Hailey, Jamie and I laugh and talk during our free time in FBLA.

I feel at my most normal when I’m with my friends. I know I’m lucky to have them, and again, I think about telling them, but the words are still stuck in my throat like they’ve always been. I don’t even like to talk to Dad about it, because I’ve seen the look in his eyes, too. I’ve seen him wonder if I will somehow end up with the same curse the other women in my family have.

I’m on my way to my locker when Mrs. Young, the English teacher, stops me. “Lulu, have you put anymore thought into that writing competition I want you to enter? I know you’re all set up for college, but this will look good. There’s no one here who has the chance to win it, except you.”

No, no I haven’t thought about it.
I’d tried to forget about it if I’m being honest. I don’t care if it’s a major award or how good it will look for college. I don’t care about an extra scholarship. I don’t want that creative part of me to exist.

“Thanks, but I can’t. I already have so much going on with school, FBLA, and student council.” As I speak, I’m walking backward away from her. My ribs are shrinking into my chest.

Mrs. Young’s face falls. “Lulu.”

“Thanks for thinking of me!” And then I run out. There are zero parts of me who want to do this, and I won’t. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care how good I am or who gets upset about it. I don’t write. Not if I don’t have to.

Dad’s working late tonight, so I start dinner on my own. The spaghetti is almost done when I hear the front door open and close. A few seconds later, Dad walks into the kitchen.

“Smells good,” he tells me.

“Thanks!”

We sit down to eat, and he tells me about his day and asks about mine. I love these times with him. It reminds me of families on TV shows, those people whose lives seem too perfect. Even when they don’t, everything is wrapped up in thirty minutes or less.

“Hey, Lu?” he says when we’re cleaning up.

“Yeah?”

“Your mom says you haven’t answered her phone calls, and that you haven’t returned any of them.”

My stomach drops out. First the conversation with Hailey and Jamie, then Mrs. Young and the writing, and now this. “I don’t know how to talk to her, Dad. Please don’t push me. I….” I don’t have to finish before his eyes grow sad. Just like I did with Jamie and Hailey, I know I’ve disappointed him.

CHAPTER TEN

~Ryder~

On my tenth birthday Dad took me out on a job for the first time. All I did was stand on the corner as a lookout. Even though my hands shook the entire time, I felt like ‘The Fucking Man’—like I was important; like they couldn’t pull the job without me. I was the guy who made sure nothing went down.

Even though it wasn’t a planned gig, they knew what they were doing. It didn’t take Dad long to get into the store—it never did. In and out, that’s what Dad always said. In and out in under ninety seconds. It was thirty seconds when some guy tried to turn down the alley. I had less than a minute to get him as far away as I could, or he’d see them coming out with things they shouldn’t have.

And I’d done it. Dad and his friends gave me a small cut and a beer that night. They called me a man. They said I’d saved the day. I’d never really saved anything before, but the words were like a fucking rush. Even then I knew I wanted to hold onto that feeling.

After that, Dad decided birthdays were lucky. His birthday, mine, Luke’s. We always did something big after that; usually something illegal, but we were always lucky and we always celebrated big.

That’s why I find someone to buy me a twelve-pack of beer tonight, and that’s why I buy a bunch of food that costs more than the shit we normally buy, wishing for the millionth time that I could just take it. It’s Dad's birthday, and Luke and I should celebrate it the way Dad would do for us.

Luke sighs as he closes the door. He’s wearing his standard uniform, black pants and a Polo shirt. He got his hair trimmed so it’s shorter than mine, clean cut. He turns and sees me sitting on the couch with a beer in my hand. His eyes dart toward the kitchen, and there’s all sorts of crap in there. Way too much food for the two of us.

“What the hell are you doing, Ry? And who said you can drink?”

I don’t know why, but I let him rip the can from my hand.

“Where’d you get the money for this?” Luke runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus, don’t tell me you’re stealing or selling drugs. Third strike. Why do I have to keep reminding you of this?”

Anger erupts inside me, a seething volcano that has no choice but to release its wrath. My legs shake as I shove to my feet, ignoring that twitch in the side of my head. “Like I could ever forget if I wanted to. All you do is shove it down my throat! I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking trying to be cool with you. It’s not like you ever wanted to be a part of this family.”

I try to head for the door but Luke grabs my arm. “Are you kidding me? I’m here, aren’t I? He’s the one who’s not. He’s the one who chose dirty jobs over us and then bailed. Where’d the money come from man?” he asks again.

I sold my hoodie to a kid at school who wanted it. Tanner gave me some shit out of his house that his parents would never know was gone, so I sold those too. I might as well have stolen it, the way Luke’s acting. At least I’d be getting in trouble for actually doing the one thing I’m good at.