Fall Out Girl (13 page)

My eyes fixed on a flock of seagulls hovering over the water probably searching for food. The salty ocean smell invaded my nostrils as memories of my father flooded my mind. Dad was spinning me on the sand, the echo of his laughter mingling with my giggles, an orange sunset burnished the clouds, and a white moon peeked from behind the water. I waited for the wracking pain to tear my heart. Instead, a languid nostalgia seeped through my mind, body, and soul.

Repressing the tears that welled in my eyes, I brushed wind-tousled hair out of my face and turned to Caleb. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Your obvious obsession with birds led me to search for an Audubon Society in the area. This place came up. I’m surprised you haven’t been here yet. Anyway, my initial plan was for a romantic picnic. On our second date. But then today happened, and you were crying, and I kind of didn’t know what to do with you. So here we are.” He shrugged, flashed a smile, and snapped a picture of me.

“Thank you.” It was such a thoughtful gesture. Nothing I said would reflect how deeply he had touched me. And in all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know. Slowly, Caleb continued to chip away at my fortress of solitude.

We strolled on the sandbar and explored the marsh. I identified a Yellow-throated Warbler, a Blackburnian Warbler, and a Great Egret. But the highlight of the day was when, on the way back to the car I spotted a Northern Mockingbird singing away, perched on the top of a cedar tree. We stood in silence, listening to his performance. He made it sound like there were ten other birds singing along.

“Wanna get something to eat before we go to the shelter?” Caleb asked when we got in the car.

“Yeah, that would be swell.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he said.

“What?” I frowned.

“Swell…That’s, so 1940.”

“Oh, says the guy who uses the word ‘helluva.’” I grinned.

“No, really, who says that?” He grinned back at me.

“My Dad. It was his slang of choice. He said he liked the way it rolled off the tongue.”

Caleb didn’t pressure me to say more, making me grateful. It felt good to share that bit about my father. Even though, I was breaking one of my self-imposed rules.

Caleb drove to a bistro at Walnut Beach. We got sandwiches, kale juice (I shuddered at the sight, but Caleb assured me it was delicious), and cupcakes. We sat on the warm, fluffy sand facing the ocean and ate. (The juice wasn’t awful, but no, I wouldn’t recommend it. Another shudder).

I wanted to prolong that day. Stretch it to the end of times. But I also wanted to erase it from my memory. Eradicate it. Better yet, turn back the hands of time and never meet Caleb, never taste his kiss, never hear his voice, nor smell his scent. Amnesia would’ve been perfect, right about that time.

Caleb fell into my life, like an asteroid dropping from the sky. Suddenly, ferociously. He wobbled my world, tilted its axis. And I, a self-proclaimed chameleon, didn’t know how to adjust. I did know, however, that I was afraid. Terrified.

For the next few weeks, Caleb and I fell into a routine. At school, we rarely talked. I was relieved that he had accepted my boundaries that easily. Though deep inside, I resented his prompt acceptance. Double minded much? Well, I never made a secret of my state of mind.

Despite our lack of interaction at school, rumors flew. When I passed by lockers, I heard giggles and whispers behind malicious hands. For years, I had successfully navigated through school unnoticed, only to become a conspicuous student in my senior year. The entire scenario deviated from my plans, but I couldn’t put a stop to it.

A seed of “need to be near Caleb” had found fertile soil inside my chest. It rooted rapidly and branched out. Now, all the time in the world didn’t seem to be enough to be with him. He didn’t object either. And so we created our little world of hearts and flowers. We spent the afternoons at the shelter and the evenings in my room.

In my eagerness to be with him, I neglected my clients and suffered a great decline in my profits. I took comfort from the fact that I long ago passed the savings goal I needed in order to move out with Jake. Besides, I knew I would get some money from Mr. Bakosi on my eighteenth birthday. It surely would be enough and should last throughout my years in college.

Prior to his death, Dad did two smart things. First, he set up a trust fund that I would only have access to while in college. And second, he taught me the principle of saving money for rainy days.

Though he had hoped Auntie Lace would do right by me, he knew she wasn’t trustworthy. His foresight guaranteed my education. Most importantly, it would ensure Jakes’ and my freedom.

My plan was simple. Turn eighteen, pack up the trunk of my Mustang and with Jake in the passenger seat, get the hell away. I had tucked a small fortune inside my blue birdhouse. It took discipline to save it. I was frugal with my purchases, making innumerable sacrifices.

For over three years, Jake and I paid for Auntie Lace’s drugs, paid for the food in the house and stashed away the rest. See, the thing about drugs is this: if the ducks are lined up perfectly, people do make money.

Life couldn’t be simpler, yet more complex.

Autumn fell upon us, tinting the leaves of my secret little world with gorgeous colors. Caleb and I often walked through the woods and made out lying on a multicolored carpet of leaves. I found myself tamer, calmer, happier.

We were at the kennel playing with a mutt called Rex. Caleb snapped another picture of him.

“Smile, Rex, you’re on Candid Camera,” I said.

Rex rolled on his back for a belly rub. I scratched his tummy. With his tongue lolling out of his mouth, he wiggled his tail.

“Jesus, I can’t picture you watching Candid Camera,” Caleb said with a grin.

“Dad and I used to love that TV show,” I stated with a matter-of-fact tone and a shrug that clearly ended the conversation. We still didn’t talk about Dad. Caleb knew the subject involving him ruined my mood as instantly as a drop of vinegar curdles milk.

“Why the name Rex?” he asked instead.

“Because… do I need a reason? He just looks like a Rex.” Names are important, part of our identity. The first thing people learn about us when we meet. Dad used to say it’s a piece of the soul. He said he named me Luna, because, and I quote “nothing on earth could reflect how rare and precious you are.” Yeah, I got some of my poetic tendencies from Dad. He was a bit of a philosopher, a wanderer.

“Lorrie told me you had a dog. What was his name?”

Oh, his sister had paid attention to our conversation.

“It wasn’t a male.”

“What was
her
name, then?”

“Laska, her name was Laska.” My lips curved up into a longing smile. “Dad named her after a character in a classic book from the eighteen hundreds.” I shook my head at the thought. “When I turned ten, he told me if I found the book…” I scrunched up my face and deepened my voice making a lousy impersonation of Dad, “‘without doing that Google Internet thingy you kids do.’” I smiled at the thought. “…if I found the book by my sixteenth birthday, he and I would backpack through Europe.”

“Did you? Find the book?” he asked.

“No. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Caleb stared at me. His eyes were filled with a distinct emotion that I couldn’t identify.

“Go out on a date with me?” he asked. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. He continued to look at me strangely.

“No, no. A special date.” His voice was playful, but his eyes were intense and serious.

“Ookay.” I thought all our dates were special. But whatever.

He continued to look at me with a peculiar expression and then snapping out of his reverie, he said, “Let’s prep this mutt, and go outside for a photo shoot. After I post his pictures on the Web, people are going to line up for a chance to take him home.”

I brushed Rex’s brown fur until it was lustrous and shiny, chose a burgundy bandana and tied it around his neck.

“You’re so optimistic,” I said, putting the leash on Rex.

“I tried being pessimistic. It didn’t work,” he said, flashing a dimple and shrugging.

“You’re such a dork,” I said, walking toward the door.

Before I turned the knob, Caleb’s hand pressed the door shut, blocking and caging me. His warmth immediately enveloped me, sending a tingling through my body. He leaned in and skimmed his nose on the back of my neck. “I like it when you talk dirty to me,” he said against my ear. Though the comment was playful, there was an agonizing urgency to his voice.

My body trembled and melted into his. He slid his hand around my waist and pressed my lower tummy. He pulled me against him. I felt his arousal on my back. My breath caught, and my girl parts throbbed.

“You are the most adorable thing in the world.” He placed his hand over mine on the knob and turned, opening the door and breaking the spell he had put me under.

“Let’s get this done and over with,” he said, adjusting his pants.

I pulled my dress down, but it immediately hiked up, bunching around my thighs. It was too tight. Looking in the mirror, I scowled at my image. I wanted to look beautiful that night, not like a slut. Whatever Caleb meant with a special date had me going mental.

I stared at my closet again. Black, white, and beige. Those were the only colors gracing my wardrobe. I tugged the dress down again. I smoothed my hair and applied a little makeup. I wanted to look different from the gothic, or the makeup striped me that Caleb saw every day. Did that worsen my mental condition? I already had two personas going, should I add a third? I blew the hair falling in my face and decided to leave it down.

I heard the soft purr of Caleb’s car. I grabbed my purse. No, not the messenger that night, I opted for a small handbag I had bought at a thrift store.

When I opened the front door, Caleb’s hand was midair to press the bell. A thought flashed through my mind. “Never go out with a boy who waits for you inside the car, or worse, toots the horn.” I smiled. “Yeah, Dad, you would like Caleb.”

“Wow, love. You look hot,” Caleb said, snatching me out of the reminiscent moment.

“You cleaned up pretty good, yourself,” I said, examining his perfect build. He wore black slacks and a gray button-down shirt. His hair, still damp from the shower, pointed in different directions as if he had been pulling on it for the last hour.

He slid his hand around my waist. “That dress might just be the death of me,” he said, brushing his lips on mine.

“I’ll sprinkle your ashes on a rose bush or something.” My high heels almost leveled me with him—don’t be shocked that I owned a pair of stilettos though I’d never worn them prior to that night.

I put my arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

“You, dear, are a heartless wench,” he said breathlessly against my lips.

“I have a heart,” I said in mock protest. Though it’s just a dreary frozen lump in the cavity of my chest.

I pulled his lower lip between my teeth and nipped on it.

“Let’s get out of here before I ravish you at the front door of your house.”

He placed a hand over the small of my back and guided me to the car. His touch was confident and possessive. It made me shiver in anticipation of what he had in store for our date.

There was a palpable energy humming between us, an invisible force that seemed to dictate our fate. The anticipation of when I was getting ready dissipated, replaced by an excitement for the unknown. That was the first, perhaps the only time in my life I felt like a teenager. Caleb opened the car’s door. A square box wrapped in pinkish paper occupied my seat.

My head turned to Caleb.

“That’s for you,” he said, answering my silent question.

I slid inside the car and placed the box on my thigh.

Caleb circled the car and sat behind the wheel. “Go ahead and open it, you’re gonna need it.”

My fingers ripped the feminine paper. I opened the top of the box to find a caramel-colored pair of UGGs. “Boots?”

“Yeah, I thought you would wear heels. You’re gonna need comfortable shoes to get to where we’re going.”

In silence, I got rid of my heels. At school, everyone but me owned a pair of UGGs. They were expensive as hell so I never entertained the crazy idea of buying any. The moment my feet slid inside, I understood all the fuss over those boots. Nothing so soft had ever graced my feet. I sighed and bit my lip. The gift threw me off my game. I had forgotten the social norms of receiving a gift. “Umm, thank you,” I said, almost as an afterthought.

“You’re welcome, love.” He grasped my hand, touched his lips to my knuckles and placed our twined fingers on his lap.

When Caleb pulled over and parked, I recognized the place. “You’re taking me to feed birds?” I asked, bemused.

“We’re going to your willow tree.” He caressed my cheek. “But not to feed birds.”

After he had opened my door, he retrieved a picnic basket and two flashlights from the trunk. I followed Caleb through the moonlit trail. I glanced at my feet, grateful for the comfortable shoes. It would’ve been impossible to trudge the uneven terrain in heels.

We stepped across the creek. The swish of the stream rushing down added to the magical quality of the night. The practical side of me warned that I should turn around, go home, and forget about Caleb. But I squashed the thought. For one night, I wanted to be free. Be spontaneous, young, and reckless. To simply be a girl in love with a boy. I wanted to accept that lost side of me.