Awaken (23 page)

“It’s jelly,” he said. “Usually goes better with this.”

I stared at the jelly with suspicion. He smeared some on the other slice of bread, stuck the two together, and handed it to me on a plate. He grabbed a banana off the table and set it on my plate as well.

“Thanks.” I sat down at the kitchen table just as Justin’s phone rang.

He checked the caller ID. “I gotta take this,” he said. I nodded and he walked out of the room. I looked out the window at a sky that was creeping toward sunset.

After I finished dinner, I rinsed off my plate and headed into the living room. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. It just occurred to me how much time I’d been cooped up.

Justin walked into the room and noticed my restlessness. “What’s up?” he asked.

I didn’t want him to feel like he had to entertain me. I knew he needed to work.

“I’m just antsy,” I said. I looked around the living room. “Is there a running machine here?”

He shook his head and glanced out the window. “Are you into sunsets?” he asked.

“I’ve seen them online,” I said.

Justin rolled his eyes and stuck his phone in his pocket. He grabbed his sweatshirt off the couch. “Come on,” he said.

I found an old pair of red Converse tennis shoes in the closet, a little big, but they would work. I tied up the laces, pulled on a sweatshirt, and fastened my hair into a ponytail.

Justin was waiting in the front yard and I followed him down the street. I took a deep breath of the thick, salty air. The cool breeze gave me the second wind I needed and I easily kept up with his long strides. We turned the street corner and headed west, toward the beach.

The blacktop street gave way to gravel, which gave way to soft sand. The coastline, I noticed, was nothing close to the thrashing, powerful waves of Oregon I remember seeing when I was little. These waves were timid and passive as if the water was on vacation and life was too calm and easy to bother getting worked up about. Or maybe I had grown up and the things that used to scare me didn’t seem as threatening anymore. I took off my shoes and rolled up the bottom of my jeans. I left my shoes on the sand and Justin kicked off his sandals next to them.

I asked him what Eric’s job was exactly. He explained Eric was a gopher, somebody that intercepted people, like me, that were being detained or sent to a detention center for trying to rebel against DS.

“Do you know what goes on in detention centers?” I asked.

He shook his head and told me all they know is that they’re rehabilitation clinics for rebellious teenagers. They hold people until they’re deemed safe to go back into society, meaning they won’t stir up any more trouble.

“But you can’t cure people from having an opinion about their lives,” he said. “That’s just human nature.”

I looked over at Justin. “Were you ever a gopher?”

“I did it for a while,” he said. “It’s good training, good discipline, but it’s too predictable. Now I direct more of them like I did with you and Eric.”

Predictable,
I thought. That would hardly be the word I’d use to describe the two interceptions I experienced. I’d hate to know what his idea of surprising was.

“Once you intercept, all you do is drive for eight hours or hide out in someone’s basement. Not much to it,” he said.

“Justin, we were shot at,” I pointed out.

He laughed. “Bullets can’t kill you. Remember the law they passed? All firearms can do now is stun people for a few minutes. The most dangerous bullets out there are about as lethal as a dose of sleeping pills. It’s the whole movement toward more peace, less violence. It’s one of the few laws I agree with.”

I stopped and gazed out at the sky and Justin stood next to me. We were both quiet. A string of clouds floated over the horizon and the sun was setting behind them, splashing icy metallic blue and silvery pink light across the water. A cold wind blew off the ocean and Justin pulled his hood up over his head. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and turned to look at me.

“It’s been an intense twenty-four hours,” he said.

“It’s been intense since the day we met,” I corrected him.

“How are you feeling about all this?” he asked. His eyes were sincere like they always were when he was listening.

I smirked and kicked at the sand. “You’ve probably seen this case hundreds of times. How am I handling it compared to other girls?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You know, most people in your shoes are a little more freaked out right now. They’re scared or angry or relieved or bawling their eyes out. But they’re showing some sort of emotion. You don’t have to be so guarded all the time, you know.”

I stared back at him. “Maybe I’m still in shock.”

“Maybe you’re not used to being honest. Maybe you’re so used to telling people exactly what they want to hear you forget how to think for yourself. Or maybe you only know how to express yourself behind a screen because that’s easier than looking people in the eye.”

“Why are you attacking me?”

His face softened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just get the feeling you’re afraid to open up because you were always reprimanded for it. I don’t want you to feel that way around me. You have a mind and a voice and thoughts for a reason. So use them.”

I turned away and crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn’t argue with this because it was true and for the first time in years, someone actually cared what I thought and I didn’t have to tiptoe around my dad and whisper my feelings to my mom like they were secrets I should be ashamed of.

I started to walk down the beach as I considered this.

“You might as well tell me what’s on your mind,” he said after me. “I’m not your dad. I’m not going to ground you if you have an opinion.” I turned and glared at him.

“I’m fine,” I said, and he returned the stare.

“If you need to get something off your chest, I’m here to listen. Believe me, trying to hold everything in doesn’t work. Eventually it makes you crack.”

I took a long breath. What he didn’t realize was that at this moment, standing here alone with him in the open air, all my thoughts and questions and concerns weren’t about myself, or my parents or even my situation. My thoughts circled and spiraled and all came crashing down like the waves and they all revolved around him, as if getting through to him would be solving the greatest mystery in my life.

“Okay,” I said. “You want to know what’s annoying me more than anything? You are.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You help people every day, people trust you and worship you and adore you. But you never let anybody get too close. I watch you. You set up a wall against everyone, even your friends. It’s like you draw some invisible line no one can penetrate.”

He looked at me for too long and his eyes turned golden brown in the reflection of the sunset. He nodded slowly.

“You’re right.”

I blinked back at him. “I am?” I asked, confused he gave in so easily without a fight.

“I don’t let myself get attached to people,” he said simply, as if this would answer all my questions.

“Why not?”

He narrowed his eyes with frustration. He turned and started walking down the beach and I caught up to him.

“Hey,” I said, “you’re the one that wanted to open up about feelings. It’s interesting,” I added. “You can talk about anything, but when it comes back to you, you get – ”

“Annoyed?” he finished for me. “I told you before, people can’t depend on me. I need to be in too many places at once.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s true. I depend on you more than anyone.”

Justin stopped and fixed his eyes on me. They hardened now. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” I asked.

“My life” – he paused for a moment to find the right words – “is not normal.”

“So what? Everybody’s battling something. But do you really want to let your problems dictate your life? Because you don’t strike me as that kind of a person.”

His face lightened with surprise. “See, doesn’t it feel good to speak your mind?”

I couldn’t help but smile. It did feel good, like something toxic and heavy was leaving my body, like your mind can get clogged with the soot and grit of too many thoughts if you don’t sweep it out once in a while.

“I live in about forty different cities,” he said. “I drive sixty-five different cars. I sleep when I can fit it in. You can only have so many commitments in life, and I’ve chosen mine. Friends are a commitment and I don’t have time for that.”

“Maybe it’s all you’ve known up until this point, but it doesn’t mean it has to be that way forever.”

Justin took a long, deep breath before he answered. “I love what I do. Do you know how many people I’ve helped in your shoes? Hundreds. Maybe a thousand. We’re intercepting half the people that are sent to detention centers. This is what I want to commit my life to. We’re losing our freedom more and more every day, Maddie. Fighting digital school is more important to me than anything. And with every choice you make you have to compromise other things.”

“What are you giving up?”

He threw his hands in the air like it was obvious. “Relationships. I can’t live like this and ask someone to be okay with seeing me once a month, if that. I’d never want to bring anyone into this kind of lifestyle. That’s way too selfish, because my job will
always
come first.”

I felt desperate to convince him. “You mean just because your mission is to make other people’s lives better, you can’t enjoy your own?”

He tightened his lips. “I do enjoy it,” he stated.

“Not if you’re cutting yourself off from the very reason why you’re human.”

“That’s my choice and I promised myself I’d never bring another person into this. I work better alone.”

There was a finality in his voice to show me this conversation was over. I turned out and looked at the water and tried to make sense of his words. Justin woke me up to experience a world that I was missing out on. But maybe he needed someone to wake him up to the things he couldn’t see.

He understood me better than anybody and for the first time, it occurred to me I might be the only one stubborn enough to try and understand him.

I watched the sun dip below the horizon and it lit up the clouds like an orange flame.

“This is the best part,” he said.

He sat down on the sand and I sat next to him. I pulled my knees up and hugged them against my chest. The wind picked up and I pulled a stocking cap out of my jacket pocket and tugged it on. We sat in silence and watched the water and the sky and the clouds perform magic for us. I pretended my problems could be whisked up and churned under the waves, one at a time, and disappear forever. It relaxed me to watch a rhythm that was so constant it could hypnotize you. I shifted in the sand, overly aware that I was only inches from Justin. I looked over at him and he was sitting exactly as I was, with his arms wrapped around his legs, his eyes fixed on the light show in the distance.

“This is what I’m fighting for. This moment, right now.” He stared intently around him. “Look down the beach, it’s deserted.” I gazed down the north and south stretch of beach and he was right. There wasn’t another soul there to appreciate the sunset.

“This is the real world, right now happening in front of us, and everybody’s missing it. It’s like hearing you have a cousin or a relative but only knowing them through pictures and stories. You never actually meet. You never really get to know each other. We don’t know the world anymore. Everybody’s moved inside. People learn about the ocean, but they’ve never seen one. They know about the sun but they never feel it. The reason to be alive is to appreciate moments like this,” he said, and opened his hands to the sunset as if he could hold on to it.

We watched the light slowly stretch and fade below the Pacific. I didn’t want to admit this was the first sunset I’d ever seen, or that this moment in my life was possibly the most intimate I’d ever known. I also realized this was my answer. Justin was offering me the entire world at my fingertips. But denying me the one thing I wanted.

The next morning I woke up with a start to a banging noise, like a hammer hitting metal. I pulled a pillow over my head and yelled, “Off,” which always silenced my computer alarm. The hammering continued. I flipped onto my back and groaned. What kind of a rock song was this? I sat up and blinked and forgot, yet again, that I was a long way from home. The sound was coming from outside.

I walked into the kitchen, my brain still drowsy with sleep. I grabbed a mug off its hook and poured a cup of coffee. Just the smell made my sleepy eyes open wider. I heard more commotion outside and followed the sound out the front door. The sun was shining and it beat down on the driveway. I looked over and saw Justin leaning over the open hood of a car. He had a dark baseball cap on, turned backwards. He wore a white tank top smeared with dirt and oil, and his blue jeans were equally as filthy. The jeans were baggy and slid low on his waist, revealing some of his green boxers.

I cleared my throat and he turned around and grinned at me, a friendly grin but with an edge to it that I picked up on now. It was an edge that was polite, but never crossed the line.

“So,” I said. “You cook and you fix cars? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

He sat down in front of the car, on the warm cement, and I walked over and sat next to him. He leaned his back against the car and took a drink from a water bottle next to him.

“Is it that strange?” he asked. I took a sip of my coffee and studied him. The sun poured rays of light that glowed off of his skin and heated the pavement around us. His face was flushed from working and his hands and nails were dirty with car grease. And he made car grease look really good.

He looked over at me and caught me gaping and I quickly looked away.

“It’s just weird to imagine you dodging the police one second and baking an apple pie the next.”

He stared at me like I was crazy. “I don’t bake pies,” he argued, like I insulted his masculinity. “I only make flourless chocolate cake,” he stated, and I laughed.