Of course Jessica starts crying now.
“She made a mistake, it happens,” Charlie says. “Back off.”
Charlie puts his arm protectively around her shoulder while he tells her I didn’t mean it and that everything will be okay.
I bite hard on my lip so I don’t say anything else. What a dumb cow. And he can’t see that? I turn and bolt back into the café.
The front door swings open with a gust of wind, blowing Mom through it, along with Raul, the other dishwasher, to relieve Charlie.
Mom smiles. “Kara, you can be off now if you’d like.”
I don’t respond. I grab my coat and head outside because I don’t want to go upstairs yet. The sky is dark blue and black, a clear night, and I’m standing against the wall when Charlie rushes out the door, not seeing me. He still wears his apron, and it flaps against his legs as he walks.
I want to talk to him, need to talk to him.
So I follow him toward the bus stop that would take him home to the most expensive side of the Hill.
I KNOW CHARLIE’S NEIGHBORHOOD
well. Gaby and Jen and I always used Halloween as an excuse to stalk the homes of boys we had crushes on. For us it meant going to a bunch of houses because Gaby loved lots of boys at the same time. We always lied to Jen’s mom about our reasons for being dropped off in the most expensive neighborhood.
There’s just a dusting of snow, now frozen. Most of the sidewalk has been salted so I don’t have to worry about the sound of crunching snow under my feet.
Charlie’s walking briskly and I stay about twenty feet behind him, in the shadows.
But he passes his bus stop, walking straight down the Ave and past Crockett’s. I can hear Justine’s loud voice as a customer enters through the automatic doors.
“That’ll be one fifty-nine, young sir.”
I wish I could go in and talk to her and tell her what a mess I’ve made of everything.
Charlie stops and turns around. I freeze. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he steps toward the store. Then he stops, maybe thinking for a moment before walking in.
“Well hey there, you cutie of a stranger!” Justine’s voice cries. “I hate to tell you but your Kara—” Her words fade out, cut off by the automatic doors.
Something in the dark catches my eye and I see the glow of a cigarette. My heart jumps a little. Jason steps out into the light.
“Hey, Kara.” His voice sounds like a robot’s.
Whatever. I’m not even answering. I’m too baffled to be creeped out. I peer through the glass doors, careful not to get too close so that they’ll slide open and give me away. Jason vanishes back into the alley like a troll backing into his cave.
Charlie stands at the end of the checkout stand, his head strained toward Justine. She’s standing a little too close to him, cleavage on display. Oh well, that’s Justine. I immediately feel bad for thinking she might have intentions. Her smile is friendly and she is listening to him, nodding the entire time. I watch her lips to see if they form my name at all. Charlie nods. She blows him a kiss and he turns to leave. I dash to the safety of some snow-frosted evergreen bushes as the doors part and he exits. He continues down the Ave and I duck out into the street so the parked cars can hide me. He starts whistling. This ticks me off because maybe it means he’s happy, and how could he be happy when we aren’t together?
The old Catholic church where he took me to see his old truck looms ahead. I have to hustle to keep up with him. He runs up the steps and disappears inside the big wooden double doors.
Oh no.
It all hits me. I was right. He is totally a Holy Roller. It explains why he started working at my Mom’s café in the first place. It explains why he’s so tortured. Why he has such gentlemanly ways. Why it’s impossible to hate him. Why he can walk into a bar, underage, and be greeted with cheers. Why he defended that idiot, Jessica. Always amen-ing and hallelujah-ing my mother’s Bible babble. Charlie’s becoming a priest, isn’t he? Holy shit.
I hold the old iron door handle, wondering if I really want to do this—as in, talk him out of it. I’d probably go straight to Hell.
I have to plant my feet wide apart to get the doors to open, even though he threw them open with ease. It’s dark and silent inside. Cavernous. Echoey. Holy. I have no business being here and no clue where Charlie disappeared to.
I hide in the corner so I can scope out the place from behind a back pew. In the front pews I see a few solitary people kneeling in prayer, but I don’t see him. An old lady makes her way toward me, clutching a rosary to her chest. Small candles flicker against the wall nearby, where a woman kneels. Charlie is gone, but there’s a door behind the altar, and that’s all I can see as a possible escape route.
I leave and walk back out into the cold. Off to the side of the parking lot sits Charlie’s truck, moved from where it was last time. I walk around the church, figuring that the door behind the altar must lead somewhere. Each step I take toward the back of the church sends my pulse higher. A bus thunders past and somewhere in the distance sirens wail.
My feet crunch into a half-inch of snow. I notice thin yellow light slanting out onto the walkway behind one of the basement windows. Tiptoeing along the edge of the rhododendrons, I crouch just outside it.
There’s a cot-like bed made up neatly against the painted concrete block wall. A small bedside table holds a lamp, an alarm clock, a Bible, a stack of books, and a picture of a woman. An ugly green throw rug lies on the concrete floor. Maybe so the person who gets out of that bed can avoid the frigid shock each morning. The rug grows darker as a shadow moves over it and into my line of view.
Charlie.
His feet are bare and a towel is wrapped around his waist.
Charlie’s at the church half-naked?
He disappears and returns pulling what looks like a portable heater. It must be freezing in there. When he moves toward the window I fall on my ass. I scoot back in an awkward crab-walk.
I turn away when he drops the towel. If Noelle were here, she’d be trying to snap a picture by now. When I turn back, Charlie is pulling on a T-shirt to top off some sweats. He crawls into the cot and starts texting someone.
Maybe he’s texting me. I can imagine what he’d write.
Hey, peep show much?
My cell stays silent.
Charlie sets the phone down and lies back in bed.
I’m frozen and I need to get out of here before he turns off the light; before the glow from the street reveals the pervy girl outside his window.
Why is he sleeping at church? Don’t priests in training sleep in a priest dorm or something? And they surely don’t sleep half-naked. So maybe that’s not it. He said his dad went to California. But he came back, right? Why isn’t he living with his dad?
When I reach Charlie’s truck my spine prickles, reminding me that I’m out in the dark alone.
And that’s when I hear the noise behind the tree next to me.
26.
Poke the middle to check for doneness.
..........................................................
The night sky is black and starry, with fuzzy gray edges to the west.
I hurry around the side of the Ranger to the sidewalk. The noise could be anything. It could be a homeless person I don’t want to offend by running away.
But as I step onto the sidewalk I hear ice crunching behind me. I start to run because now I don’t care who I offend. The footsteps behind me are fast and deafening and my heart is thumping in my chest. Adrenaline gives me a little boost and I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life. The safety of light streaming from Crockett’s interior lies only a block away, and I run for it because my life may depend on it.
I scream but it comes out as a breathy wail that no one could possibly hear. He’s on my heels and it’s a wonder I haven’t been knocked over yet. I hear breathing and hard-soled toes hitting the ground behind me. Trees line the yard I’m passing so I launch myself into them, hoping to throw him off, but he’s still there.
He slams me sideways against a tree. Half of my face smashes against the icy bark while he pins me there with his entire body. My pulse knocks in my eardrums. My limbs are weak and rubbery. His arms are on either side of my shoulder and he presses his chest into my shoulders. I can feel his thighs against me as he towers over my head. I can’t even turn to see who he is.
Again I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My vocal chords are frozen and I can’t even ask him why he’s doing this. He thrusts his body against mine again, trying to flatten me against the tree. The bark scrapes my face, stinging my cheek.
Lights move down the street and I feel air around my back. Frozen leaves crunch.
Then he’s gone.
I clutch the tree. Sap sticks to the burning scrapes on my palms. When I pull away from the tree my legs buckle and send me down to the frozen dirt and twigs and pine needles. I know I should run because he could come back, but I don’t. I’m frozen.
The air, the sky, everything holds on to silence. And then, all at once, the noise returns: bar laughter far in the distance, barking dogs, and even the horn from a ferry boat. I stand up and brush myself off. My palms sting badly and two fingers on my right hand are stuck together with sap.
When I start walking down the sidewalk toward home, I realize I’m going in the wrong direction and stop. The suffocation of my life strangling me loosens its hold and I start crying.
“Kara?”
Hayden stands in front of me.
I collapse against him and his familiarity. His arms catch me and wrap around my back. He holds me to him and my arms go around him. My sticky fingers touch his backpack and I want him to carry me away from here. He holds me for a few minutes and I try not to cry. But there’s no use. I keep quiet, because I don’t want him to know what happened.
Hayden’s fingers are in my hair, stroking my head and reassuring me that I’m okay. I’m safe.
When he whispers into my ear, tingles cross every inch of me. “Kara, what the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be out here by yourself!”
The streetlight overhead offers enough light for me to see him, his baseball hat a little askew as he pulls away to look at me.
All I can do is stare at his mouth and his eyes and how he’s here, protecting me, really saving me. This Hayden always asks for the broken, reject cookies I make because my baking reminds him of his grandma. This Hayden laughs at Ninja Cat videos and smiles at me from under the bill of his baseball cap because he knows it makes me blush.
I’ve crushed on him forever and I don’t care about anything, or that he’s too old for me. I know it shouldn’t be that way, especially after what I saw in the Moon Bar, but then maybe he was drunk? He had to be drunk. Or maybe it wasn’t really him at all. And even if it were, he wasn’t being his real self. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, right? I grab the collar of his coat anyway and scatter all the bad thoughts as I go on tiptoe to kiss him. My whole world is off kilter right now and I only mean to thank him, but his hands press me into him and our kiss goes on, deeper, and the frozen earth at my feet spins around us.
Hayden kisses me like he’s done it forever, and he pushes me against the wall, kissing all the way down my neck. His fingers undo the top buttons of my coat and he opens it so he can kiss me lower on my neck.
No. This isn’t the place. Someone might see. Charlie might see. But we’re done so what does it matter anymore?
Charlie.
A small cry catches in my throat and tears rush to my eyes again. What is wrong with me? I pull away from Hayden.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I look down and rebutton my coat so I don’t have to see his face, my fingers shaking.
He leans down and kisses me again. “Of course you should have.”
“No, Hayden, I’m sorry,” I say to his neck.
“Don’t be sorry, Kara,” he whispers. “I’m not sorry.”
I feel bad, and I’m looking at his face now. “I’m really a mess. I’m sorry, okay? I can’t do this.”
“It’s okay.”
It’s not okay. I’m horrible. “Can you walk me home? I’m afraid to go alone.”
His hand brushes across my forehead. “No problem.”
Every step back to the café is difficult, and I feel like the shittiest person I know, kissing Hayden when I really just want Charlie. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t go around kissing whoever is convenient. I keep telling myself the situation wasn’t normal.
As in: I don’t walk around at night getting attacked by psychos.
The silence between us is thick and awkward. I catch Hayden’s face in my periphery and I know he spends the entire walk to the café watching me. My guilt feels heavy and I’m putting my key into the lock before I can speak again. “I’m really sorry, Hayden. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sort of getting over someone.”
He leans down so we’re eye to eye. I take a step backward. “Like I said, I’m not sorry. And I know you’re not that kind of girl. But I think you know I’ve had a thing for you for a while. You know, it’s the reason your friend hates me so much.”