Gone (14 page)

Mels

P.S. Can't wait to see Gaia in that black potato-sack JC Penney funeral dress. Why is she even going? Maybe we'll luck out and she'll be a no-sho. More Jakein' for the takin'! Ha ha ha

HEATHER HADN'T BEEN THIS NERVOUS in years. Quite possibly not since her first date, when she was thirteen years old and George Peltner fat ‘N Sync concert. She had broken out in such a sweat that night that George had actually asked her if she'd gone swimming before the date. Of course, in the years that followed, she became something of a dating champion. The thought of being nervous for a date had become almost laughable for the great Heather Gannis. But tonight, as she waited for Sam Moon to ring her doorbell, she felt like she was starting all over again. Which, in many ways, she was.

She had grown accustomed to a certain amount of assisted living at the Carverton School for the Blind. Someone was usually there by her side, sometimes literally holding her hand to walk her through a difficult task But this was her first night back home, and despite her family's incredible support—especially her mother's—she was feeling particularly
un
assisted right now. She was feeling very much on her own tonight, in this very blurry world. Maybe going to the prom wasn't such a good idea. The whole thing was feeling much more intimidating than she'd imagined it would be.

She couldn't even tell how she looked. She could see
the black outline of her strapless silk dress, and the white line that was the pearl necklace on her flesh, and the dark hair that framed her face. But for all she knew, the dress could be a disaster, the pearls could look prissy and stupid, and her hair could be a nightmare of split ends. Her mother insisted that none of these things were true, but Heather trusted no one's aesthetic opinion over her own,
especially
not that of her mother, who would say she looked beautiful if she were wearing a pink muumuu and a neon yellow golf visor.

She had actually come to love
not
caring about her appearance, and she felt almost ashamed for caring again tonight. Caring too much about appearances, after all, was a huge part of the old Heather that she didn't want to be anymore. But the fact was, tonight it mattered. It didn't have to matter any other night of the year, but tonight it just did, whether she liked it or not. She couldn't stop sweating. Her mother had given her a small black handkerchief so she could continuously dab the sweat that kept forming in tiny droplets all along her hairline.

When the doorbell rang, she was sure she was going to faint. This was it. Sam had arrived. There was no going back.

Heather walked slowly to the door and opened it. And there was Sam Moon, standing tall and strapping in her doorway. He was, of course, nothing but a big blur. She only had her visual memories to go on, so she projected a
past image of Sam onto the blur that stood before her and imagined him in a tuxedo. It made for a stunningly gorgeous image. All those little curls of reddish brown hair that she'd always adored, and that perfectly sculpted Apollo-like face that she'd sometimes just stared at while he slept. It actually made the moment more emotional than she had planned. Without the vision to inform her present, she could only sink further and further into the past, and memories of Sam started flooding her brain. This was a moment that had once occurred with great regularity: Sam showing up at her door to take her out for a date. To the movies, to dinner, to his dorm…

She raised the black handkerchief to her head and began to dab incessantly.

“You made it,” she said, smiling insecurely.

Sam didn't respond, and her nerves doubled. God, did she look like a fool? Had her mother dressed her up in some sort of JC Penney getup from hell?

“Wow…,” Sam uttered finally.

“What?” Heather moaned. “Is it awful? My mom did it. It's all her fault.”

“I just forgot that you were so… You look amazing.”

“I do?”

“You truly do, Heather.”

Hearing him in person was a completely different experience from the phone. She suddenly remembered that Sam's voice at such close proximity had this
uncommon quality. Whenever he said something, it was abundantly clear that he meant it. Her stomach finally dropped back down to its appropriate position, and she grinned with relief.

“Thanks,” she breathed. “My mom did it.”

“So I hear.”

“Right.” She laughed. “Sorry. I would tell you how handsome you look, but I'm afraid it's all a blur.”

“Well, you look good enough for both of us,” he said. “So, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said with a definitive nod. “I just need to get my bag.”

Unfortunately, it ended up not being that simple. Heather tried to retrieve her bag and make it out with a goodbye yell to her parents, but her mother and father were both armed and ready with cameras. Prom night was, of course, an inescapable parental photo op, and she supposed, given everything her family had been through, they deserved it.

She hated forcing Sam to endure the seemingly interminable poses and flashbulbs, but he handled it with nothing but kindness, grace, and charm, and it was ultimately pretty painless. Finally, after a long, tearful bear hug, her mother permitted their official release, and Sam and Heather made their way to the elevator and down to the street.

They walked out of her lobby, and Heather immediately found herself disconcerted by the blur of lights
and sounds. The city was still a bit much for her to handle after living in the quiet safety of Carverton. She took an unconscious step back toward her building and found herself yearning once more for some assisted living.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said meekly. “It's all just a little… overwhelming. The lights kind of blur together into one big ball.”

But Sam stepped closer and placed his fingers through hers, gripping her hand with more assurance and security than any of the trained professionals at school had ever managed.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'll lead.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek just below her ear. A bolt of tingles ran down her spine. She had to force herself to remember that this was
not
that kind of date—which wasn't so easy to do when Sam Moon held your hand and kissed you on the cheek. There was an awkward pause.

“I know,” Sam said. “This is a little weird.”

He apparently could also read minds.

“A little bit,” she admitted, dabbing her forehead again. “I think you may be a little too remarkable for a purely platonic date.”

Sam laughed. “Shut up.”

“I'm serious,” Heather insisted. “I don't know what Gaia was thinking when she let you slip away. …” Heather cringed. She had most definitely not meant to
say that out loud. She prayed that she hadn't just blown this date and wished to God that she could take back what she'd said. There was definitely a much too extensive, much too awkward silence that followed.

“Tell you what,” Sam said. He took hold of both her hands. “Let's not worry about Gaia tonight, okay? Knowing Gaia, I can't quite picture her attending a prom anyway. I guess this is a little weird, you and me together. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I don't really care how weird it is. I'm glad you asked me to this thing. I think we should just enjoy this night. I think we should celebrate the fact that you and I are standing here right now, alive and ‘sort of seeing.” He leaned forward as if to check on the status of her eyesight.

Heather laughed. He had found just the right way to put her at ease. She felt a thick lump building in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “Yes,” she agreed. That was as much as she could manage to say right now.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated with a confident smile.

“Good.” Sam gave her hands a strong squeeze. “Now, about five steps away there is a beautiful luxury sedan waiting to whisk us off to the prom in style. And if you stick close, I will make damn sure that you do not bang your head on the way in. Shall we?” He
tucked her arm tightly within his and led the way. And with each step, Heather began to feel more and more like herself. Her new self.

ED KEPT TRYING TO FOCUS HIS BRAIN on the moment. He couldn't let his mind fall down that slippery slope toward the past—toward regret and stupid stale fantasies of what “should have been.” If he could stay in the moment, then maybe he could enjoy it. He could find the pleasure in this prom thing if he really pushed. He was sure of it. Kai was a great girl! School had been swell! And now it was time to dance, dance, dance!

Jesus. You're pathetic.

Dance, dance, dance. If that was the best Ed could drum up for end-of-the-year inspiration, he was truly screwed.

He had to stop trying to fake the inspiration. That would get him absolutely nowhere. He'd have to count on Kai. He'd count on her upbeat attitude and her all-around joie de vivre. She had a contagious smile and a contagious spirit. Kai was the secret. Kai would pump him right up for sure.

Ed picked up the pace and turned the corner for Kai's building. She had wholeheartedly agreed with him in their last phone call that they should meet downstairs to avoid the giant bear trap that was the parental photo op. Ed's mother had already snapped plenty of shots of him in his tux at home, and Kai's parents had already subjected her to a full solo photo shoot as well. So that was done.

He walked the few steps to Kai's buzzer, and then he held up for one last smile-practice session. He at least owed Kai a nice fat smile. The last thing he wanted to do was let his nagging prom ambivalence rub off on her. She deserved to have the time of her life, even if Ed had to fake it a little. Once he'd given his jaw a nice workout, he breathed deep, punched the buzzer to her apartment, and waited.

Her voice trumpeted through the blaring intercom, nearly knocking him back a step. “I'll be right down!”

Okay, Ed. Relax, breathe, enjoy. Relax, breathe, enjoy. This is a monumental rite of passage in your young teenage life. These are the good times. These are the days of wine and roses. Celebrate the moments of your life. Don't worry, be happy. Carpe diem. Life is a highway, you want to ride it all night long…. Um…

Nope. He had run out of inspirational song lyrics and platitudes. It had been worth a try, though. No, it was definitely up to Kai now.

He stepped down to the street and backed up to the curb so that he could take in her grand entrance from a good cinematic perspective. He would try to pump up the music in his head and experience her entrance in slow motion. That would give it that teen movie spark for sure. That would fill his empty heart right up with “coming-of-age” delight.

He saw the first glimpse of Kai's pink shoes through the window of her building as she clomped down the stairs. Then a glimpse of her pink dress and then the neon pink barrettes dangling throughout her hair. Okay, she had clearly been watching
Pretty in Pink
in preparation for the prom and gotten inspired.

But that was good. That was
good.
That was what Ed was looking for here. You couldn't get more “teen movie” than John Hughes. And nothing screamed, “Prom is the most important moment of your life,” like
Pretty in Pink.

Okay. This is good. This is good.

Ed searched his comprehensive movie-trivia memory banks for the right music to play in his head. Pretty in Pink.
Eighties teen movie staple. Genre defining. Who did the song… ? Some eighties freak band…

Psychedelic Furs.
That was it. The Psychedelic Furs singing “Pretty in Pink.”

Ed started running the song through his head.

Isn't sheee…

Pretty in pink…

Isn't she?

Ed turned up the tune in his head as Kai swung open the door. He slowed the entire moment down to slow motion, watching as Kai stepped out onto the stoop, her tutulike pink dress blowing in the wind, her barrettes dangling from her hair like neon candy, her glorious smile lighting up the darkened street. She truly was a vision. A ray of bright pink light in a cold, harsh universe. The coolest, cutest thing he'd ever seen. The sweetest girl in the world. A good, good friend.

But something went wrong. His subconscious stepped in out of nowhere like a little demon—a tiny little emotional saboteur creeping in to change his vision. He couldn't even control it. The new vision was rolling out in slow motion, and he was powerless to stop it….

Suddenly her pink dress began to turn black in his mind's eye. Black, and sleeker, and more sophisticated. The barrettes dropped from her head. Her petite little body began to sprout up and stretch out into a taut, warriorlike frame. Her rounded cheeks became sculpted and angular like a Viking goddess's. Her Kewpie doll smile shifted into a smoldering frown. Her brown eyes turned a heavenly shade of aqua blue, and finally, her short brown hair grew into a mess of long dirty-blond tendrils, cascading down her face onto her bare cream-colored shoulders.