The Leaving Season (8 page)

He leaned back against me and said again over his shoulder, “Hold on to my waist.”

Since it was the only way to avoid falling off, I did as he suggested, pressing my fingers into his sides and holding on with just my nails. He was soft beneath his jacket, and so thin I could feel his ribs.

The wind was bracing, but as long as I kept my face turned and hidden behind Lee's back, I didn't feel its sharp sting against my cheeks.

As we tooled along smoothly, I marveled at the road, so
quiet and still. Not a soul stirred. It seemed like Lee and I were the only people alive in Roseburg. I tilted my head up toward the sky. Stars were sprinkled across the cloudless night like a necklace of sparkly jewels around the half-moon. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; brittle, frosted air filled my lungs. I held it for as long as I could and then finally exhaled, releasing pent-up tension through the small O of my lips.

We bounced along the path, with Lee carefully dodging water-filled ruts and tree roots. At last we came to a small cabin, as dark and closed up as the house I'd just left. Lee parked the scooter behind a garage nearly the same size as the cabin and led me to a side door. “Watch your step.”

We went from dark to absolute pitch-black inside the garage and I kept my hand at the back of Lee's waist, grabbing his jacket for a lifeline. I sensed we were next to something bulky like a boat or a car, and when Lee snapped the light switch, I gasped at the sight.

A Mustang convertible, circa 1960-something. It was dark blue with a creamy white-colored ragtop, stained in a few places but otherwise in good condition. A convertible in the Pacific Northwest was a luxury item: we had some great summer weather in Roseburg, but we had lots of rain for the rest of the year.

“You like it?” he asked me.

I was speechless. I loved it. How could I not? It was the very essence of cool. I felt my chin nod.

“It's Nate's.”

I whipped my head around. “What?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, it's Nate's and mine. We put it together. Kind of. It's not done, or maybe it is. I guess it is. Yeah, I think so.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in short bursts. Lee shoved his hands into his Windbreaker pockets and shrugged, as if doing so would stop him from rambling.

I walked around the car, desperate to touch it, to embrace it—it was a piece of Nate right here in front of me! I ran my fingertips along the sharp edges of the hood, feeling the slickness of the new paint job. Even under the single bare bulb of the garage, I could tell Lee had recently touched it up. I peered through the passenger window.

“She's a '66, V-8. Manual transmission,” Lee said.

I nodded, soaking it all in. A car. Nate's car.

“Get in.”

“Can I?” But even as I said that, I was opening the door eagerly and scooting my butt onto the leather-covered bench seat, a single long front seat rather than the side-by-side buckets of other models. The interior smelled musty and a little damp with a mask of pine. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a trio of tree-shaped air fresheners. I played with the knot of string that held them, batting them gently to release a little more of their scent.

Lee slid into the driver's side, shutting the door and the world out with a soft
thud
. Again, it felt like we were the only two people alive. I couldn't hear anything but my own
heartbeat thumping in my chest.

“Wood trim,” Lee said, nodding toward the dashboard panel and steering wheel, which were covered in a shiny light brown. “Original radio.”

“No iPod hookup?” I said with a laugh. “I love the color. Pretty blue.”

“It's called Nightmist Dark Blue,” Lee corrected me. “The interior is Palomino.”

While Lee recited more details about the car, its engine, its options and add-ons, I sank back with my head on the padded headrest. “Why?” I asked him when he stopped to take a breath. “How can this be Nate's?”

“And mine.” I heard Lee sigh, and when I glanced over at him, I saw he had leaned back like I had, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the floor-mounted gearshift, as if he were driving in his sleep. He smiled slyly. “Nate thought it would be cool to have a convertible.”

“That's so . . . impractical!” I laughed. “Where would he put all his basketball gear? His sweats and sneakers—”

“And his fishing equipment! And his gardening tools!” Lee laughed too, an honest-to-goodness chuckle, perhaps the first I'd ever heard from him.

“Maybe there was a small part of Nate that just wanted to look cool,” I said.

“Nah. Nate was always cool.”

I stared at Lee for a long moment: his smile was soft; his hazel eyes shimmered under the harsh light of the garage.
His expression was unguarded and shockingly open. I felt like I could ask him anything and he would be honest. But what did I want to ask? What did I really want to know about Nate and Lee's friendship? Maybe it was better for Lee to keep his secrets to himself.

“He never told me he was doing this. I feel a little—” Would it be okay to say it? “Pissed.”

“What? I'm sure you didn't say ‘pissed.' You must have meant ‘pleased.'” Lee's lips crinkled into a smile.

“Well, maybe not
this time
.” I felt myself smile back.

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” He turned to take in the backseat, the roof, the dash and floor, as if he were remembering the two of them working together on them. “Most of this was his idea. He found it online and convinced me to help him fix it up.” He laughed again, this time to himself. “It was a piece of crap when we got it. No top. The exhaust manifold was cracked. But it was really cheap.” He flung his arm over the back of the seat. “Look at it now. It might even work!”

“Really? Can we try it?” I immediately pictured the car on the open road, speeding through the night with the top down. The wind was blowing my hair, swirling it around my face, and the radio was playing full blast. Something sunny, something warm, something old. The Beach Boys. “California Girls.”

“Sure, why not?”

I clapped my hands, giddy with excitement. “This is amazing.”

“I don't know about amazing, but maybe it'll be cool.” He pulled out a set of keys, started to put them in the ignition, and then stopped, handing them to me. “You want to do the honors?”

“You mean you haven't driven it yet?”

“I started it a few times. But no, no driving yet.” He shook his head. “Go ahead. Put the key in.”

The ring lay heavy in my hand, a thick brass circle on which hung a silver-plated Mustang key with the pony insignia on one side and the Ford logo on the other. I turned it over a few times, feeling the notches scrape against my skin. Finally, I leaned across the seat and inserted it into the ignition.

“Here we go!” I said cheerfully. It was almost like a dream. Nate's car was a convertible? It was another crazy, wild thought. Maybe
this
was a dream. Maybe I was still in bed, asleep with my chemistry book over my face.

“Go on.” Lee grinned proudly.

But it wouldn't turn. I tried a couple more times, but the key wouldn't budge. I glanced up at Lee, who seemed confused as well. “Maybe the wheel is locked,” he suggested. “Here, let me try it.” He bent forward before I had a chance to sit back and his long torso curved over the wheel, nearly engulfing me. Suddenly I felt his breath against my cheek, his lips brushing my hair. I held my breath and couldn't move.

The air in the car filled with an electricity I'd never felt before. Tension was a tangible thing, a third passenger in the
Mustang, the force between us magnetic. My heart pulsed in the back of my throat and I felt like I was drowning, unable to draw a deep breath.

I expected Lee to pull away, to murmur an apology for crowding my space, but he said nothing. His hand rested on mine and his palm sent a wave of warmth all the way up my arm. I felt his long, thin fingers caress mine, the tips of them rubbing the edges of my nails as if he were gently filing them.

“Lee . . .”

“Hmmm?” He turned to look at me without sitting up and our faces were inches away from each other, our lips a whisper apart. His gaze held mine without blinking. Those inscrutable hazel eyes were asking me . . . something . . . what? What did he want from me?

“The key.” I heard my voice crack. “Your hand is—”

And in a flash, his hand released mine and he sat back, his face flushed. “Sorry,” he said to the window.

I scooted away from him and turned my head toward the passenger window. My breath fogged up the glass, and I traced a heart through it with my finger, then quickly wiped it away.
What am I doing?

For a long minute, we were turned from each other, and then I heard him try to start the car again. The ignition clicked a couple of times as Lee cursed quietly. “Come on,” he urged the engine. “Come on.”

Finally, he gave up. “Damn it.” He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

“Hey, it's okay. It's just, you know, just a car.”

“No. No, it's not.” He banged his hand against the side of the ignition, as if he could force it to work without the key. “We worked on this for months. It should run. It should at least turn over.” He slammed his hand again. “Damn it!”

I glanced around the car, marveling at it as he had just a few minutes ago. “Hey, it's pretty amazing that you even managed to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had no idea you could do this.”

“Fix cars?”

“Well, anything, really.” I thought blunt was okay with Lee until I saw the look on his face. The wall was back up, his eyes shaded and hooded. “Oh, I, Lee, I—”

“Forget it.”

“I didn't mean—”

“What the hell
did
you mean, Yoko?”

I cringed. We were back to that, were we? I guess I deserved it. “I just meant, well, you know your reputation.”
Stoner. Pothead. Lazy. Loser.

“Are you serious? Who cares about a reputation?”

“Not you.”

“Right. Not me. Not Nate. He
never
cared about that shit.”

The words hung in the air and the car suddenly seemed insanely small and claustrophobic. I needed to leave, to go home and forget this whole crazy adventure. What was I doing here? In this car? With Lee . . . ?

I fumbled with the door. I shoved my shoulder against the window and felt it give way. Slipping out as quickly as I could, I ran from the garage, kicking up rocks and dry twigs with my boots.

The moon shone a path down the driveway, past the cabin, out to the dirt road. My mind raced angrily with a million thoughts, a million emotions.

How dare you manipulate me?
I was going to say when his scooter pulled up next to me.

How dare you ruin Nate's memory for me?
I was going to say when he insisted I let him drive me home.

How dare you . . .

But he never did. He never followed me. And I ran all the way home with tears clinging to my lashes.

What
was
that?

It was impossible to sleep with my heart thumping against my rib cage. My face was flushed and sweaty, and I tossed and turned for the rest of the night. I wasn't surprised when my chemistry test was a major bust the next morning. I probably even got
Your name here
wrong.

I managed to put Lee and my nighttime adventure out of my mind for the weekend, and by the time Monday morning rolled around, I'd even convinced myself it could not have happened the way I thought it had. I must have imagined the tension I'd felt between us. In light of day, I felt more than a little guilty for treating Lee so badly. My loss was his loss too.

The Monday holiday meant we didn't have classes, but Haley had field hockey practice anyway and Emma had an all-day Scouting activity. With nothing to do, I realized it was a perfect time to drive out to Lookingglass and apologize.

At the convenience store I was greeted by Liza, Lee's girlfriend. She was dressed in a deep purple short-sleeved T-shirt and pink denim shorts that showed off her curves, and her hair was pinned back in plastic pink and purple clips. Even the earrings dotting her lobes were pink and purple.

“Hi! What can I getcha?”

“Oh, um, two Icees?”

“What flavor?”

“Blue?”

Her eyes lit up. “The best!” While the machine whirred and spat out the bright blue slush, Liza rang me up. “That's six twenty-six.”

I handed over the cash and waited for my drinks to be ready. “So, um, Liza?”

She returned some change and glanced up at me under long blond lashes. “Huh? Do I know you?”

“Oh, uh, no, not really.” I watched as she finished up with the Icees, swirling the tops into sharp peaks. “I know your boyfriend?”

“What?” she called over the sound of the machine.

“Lee? I know Lee.”

“Oh!” Liza's face flushed as pink as her hair clips. She glanced away as if she was embarrassed. “He's cute, huh?”

Yes,
my brain answered much too quickly. “He works around here, right?”

“Oh yeah! Right up the street.” She pointed behind her through the window. “You going over there now?” She handed me the slushies. “Tell him I said hi, okay?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” I thanked her for the drinks and the directions and left the store. A sort of relief flooded me: that was his girlfriend, I told myself. Lee had a girlfriend. There could not have been anything between us last night, thank god. It was me, I concluded. It was all me and my misinterpretation. We were both on edge, both stressed because of Nate's death, nothing more.

Whew.
With that settled in my mind, it was time to move on.

I spotted Lee's Vespa on the street outside the “charter thing.” It was a tiny stand-alone building designed to look like a quaint cabin. Inside, there were several revolving racks filled with glossy brochures for rafting and hiking trips, and advertisements for local inns and restaurants.

I was checking out a flyer for a place that had every fish taco imaginable for less than a buck when Lee came in through a back door. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. “What are you doing here?” he asked, narrowing his gaze. He hated me. I'd said some very unkind things last night, but I was here to set them right.

Unkind? You were rude and a little cruel.
Yeah, I was. In light of day, I recalled the harsh tone of my voice from last
night, and it made me wince.

“You need something?” he asked me as he leaned against the back door. He kept his distance, calling to me from the other side of the small room.

“I need a fish taco,” I said, holding up the flyer. “Cheap.” Nope, not even a twitch of a smile on his face. I turned to the drinks on the counter. “Icee? I got your favorite flavor.”

“Blue.”

“The best.” I added, “That's what your girlfriend says.”

One eyebrow lifted. “You saw Liza?”

“She says hi.” His gaze dropped to the slushies. “You two fighting or something?”

“What? Who? Me and Liza?” He took a cup and spun it in his hands. “So what are you doing here, Yoko?”

I held out a straw, but he didn't take it, so I plopped one into the center of each slushie instead. “I . . . um . . . I'm running off to join the circus,” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Yup. Got a new trick for my magic act.”

That was enough to interest him—slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I'm gonna make the foot in my mouth disappear.” I sipped my Icee too fast and my head spun from the brain freeze. I massaged my temple with my finger.

He said nothing but slowly and deliberately took a long sip from his drink. A moment later, he squeezed his eyes shut and placed a finger to his temple as I had. “Whoa . . .”

We stared at each other in silence as we recovered from
the brain freeze. His bright eyes were brooding, his look inscrutible. Did I need to go on? Did he understand I was here to apologize?

“Lee, I—”

“Let's go outside. Warm up a bit.”

I followed him out as he flipped a sign on the door that said “Back in 10.” I wondered if every business in this town had one of those signs. We walked toward the back of the building to a picnic table under the shade of a large elm tree, taking seats on the table itself, rather than the benches. Only the slightest hint of autumn was in the air, despite being three weeks into the season.

Lee swirled his Icee around in the cup before taking a careful sip. “It's stupid to drink it fast, but I do it all the time. You'd think I'd've learned by now.”

“We all do stupid things,” I said with a laugh. I felt his eyes sneak a peek at me and I turned, fastening my gaze on him before he could look away. “Lee, last night, when I said . . . I didn't mean to make it sound like I thought you were, um . . .”

“A loser? A pothead?” he suggested.

“Well . . .”

“So you
don't
think I'm a loser pothead?”

“No, no, I don't, and I'm sorry—”

He held up his straw. “Don't apologize. Not to me. Is that why you came out here today?”

I nodded. “Did you think I just wanted a blue Icee?”

“They are pretty tasty.” He smiled, revealing bluish lips and tongue. “Or maybe you wanted to do a waterfall walk.”

“What's that?”

“This tourist thing. People want to walk under a waterfall, you know? Stand under it.” He rolled his eyes. “Tourists.”

I tried to imagine it. It sounded dangerous. “Don't they slip and fall?”

“They're standing,” he said as if I were a slow child. “Underwater.”

“So . . . they drown?”

“You're crazy. No one drowns.”

“I would drown. Or slip. And then drown.”

Lee laughed and shook his head. He poked his straw around the bottom of his cup with occasional glances up at me. “I'll take you on one sometime. You won't drown.”

“Um, yeah, okay.” I felt relief surge through me: he didn't hate me! “What about Liza?”

“What about her?”

“She okay with you hanging out with other girls?” I gently teased him.

“Yeah, Liza's cool.”

“That's good. I don't want to be Yoko again.”

His laugh was low, hearty. “That's when a girl breaks up two guys. Not a guy and a girl.”

“Oh yeah, oh, right,” I said, blushing. I should have known that.

“Don't worry. You couldn't possibly break up me and Liza,” he went on.

“She's really special, huh?” I leaned back on my hands and watched Lee from the side.

He sucked blue Icee from his straw and then turned to me with a crooked smile. His profile was partly in silhouette from the leaves of the tree. “Let me tell you something, Meredith Daniels. My girl is clever and funny and beautiful. I had a crush on her for years before I got the courage to talk to her.”

Light and shadows danced on his face and I no longer saw the strangely awkward, goofy guy I'd always assumed him to be. There was so much more to Lee Ryan than I'd ever thought, so much I didn't think I would ever know.

I wondered if Nate had talked about me like that. Had he told his friends he thought I was clever or funny? Had he ever pined for me like Lee did for Liza? “That's nice, Lee. I'm glad for you.”

“Yeah, well, when she finds out about the real me, I'm sure she'll dump me.” He winked at me. “Don't tell her, okay?”

I zipped my lips shut. “She won't hear it from me.”

“Nice blue lips,” he said.

“Nice blue tongue.”

“Mine is purple,” he said, sticking it out and going cross-eyed as he tried to stare at it.

“How can it be purple when you were drinking blue?” I started to laugh.

“I thought you were studying chemistry,” he said. “Don't
you know red plus blue equals purple?”

“Uh, that is
not
chemistry.”

“Of course it is.”

“It's art. Like, painting or something. It's not chemistry.”

“See?” Lee shook a finger in my face. “I told you no one uses chemistry!”

I cracked up and then he did too, both of us collapsing backward onto the picnic table. We were both laughing so hard we didn't see Liza approach us. She was just stubbing out a cigarette on the bottom of her shoe when she called out Lee's name.

“Oh, hey, Liza!” Lee said, instantly sobering. We both scrambled up and hopped off the table.

Her smile twinkled merrily as she gazed at him. She looked so happy to see him—it was as if I didn't even exist. She stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “You still on a ten?”

Lee glanced at me and then into his cup. “Nah, I'm done. You need something?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I want to get some brochures for the store.”

“Oh, okay. Back door's open. I'll be in in a sec.”

Liza went in, leaving Lee and me alone. “Thanks for the Icee.”

“No worries. I owed you from last time. Oh!” I reached for my purse and took out my wallet. “How much was the gas for my car?”

“Save it. You're gonna need it when you finally run away.”

I cocked my head to one side. “Huh?”

“To the circus. You know, your magic act.”

I felt myself smile. “You just watch! I'm gonna be huge someday.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Call me when that happens.” He slipped inside, back to his girlfriend and his brochures and his waterfall walks for tourists.

Part of me didn't want to leave the cool shade of the trees, the peaceful solitude of this town. I envied the tourists who would come here seeking an afternoon hike through nature. And I wondered what it would be like to have Lee as a guide.

I took my time getting into the car, starting it up, putting on my seat belt and—

“Oh, shit!” The dashboard clock lit up with the engine. “Emma!” I forgot to pick her up!

By the time I rushed breathlessly into the house, Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner, wearing a flowered apron and matching pot holders on both hands.

“It's okay, sweetheart. One of Emma's friends dropped her off.” She smiled at me before placing a kiss on the side of my head. “You look exhausted.”

I waited for the other shoe to drop, waited for a remark about my responsibilities as a sister and daughter and if I was going to be allowed to have the car then—

“Why don't you get washed up for dinner and help me set the table?”

“But . . . that's it?”

She turned me around and gently urged me toward the stairs. “Your dad and I know this is a lot for you to deal with.”

I resigned myself to being shooed from the kitchen and went up to my room, passing Emma's along the way. She was on her bed, books spread in front of her, earbuds in her ears. I fell onto my own bed and let the pillow cave around my head.

Middie, you're tired. Middie, you're sad. Middie, go home.

When I looked at my friends, my teachers, my parents, all I saw was pity in their eyes. Their sympathy was too much—too trite, too saccharine. I knew they cared about me, about Nate, but they didn't know what to do or say much beyond
It'll be okay
.

Only Lee treated me like a regular human being, not like a fragile glass figurine that would shatter into a million pieces if someone said the wrong thing.

I pulled out my cell and texted him before I changed my mind:
waterfall walk.

Seconds later, he responded:
when

tomorrow

To get to Devil's Rock Falls, we had to leave the Vespa behind and hike.

“Devil's Rock?” I faux-shuddered as I followed Lee through the woods, glad I'd worn jeans and boots instead of shorts and sneakers.

“That's just some shit I made up,” Lee said. “Scares the pants off the tourists.”

“But you told
me
. Does that make me a tourist?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Nah. You've still got your pants on.” I was about to respond when he grinned. “Kidding. Geez, Daniels, lighten up,”

He turned onto a small path, leading me through a narrow passageway, and we emerged under the cliff in a dark recessed cave behind the water. It fell in sheets in front of us, splashing into the pool a few feet away. The sound of the water was like an intense storm, heavy and thundering, and it echoed all around us, deafening me to anything other than my pulse pounding in my head.

Without saying a word, Lee took my hand and led me out of the cave and closer to the water. A thin fence ran the length of the ledge, the smallest separation between rock and water. The rock ledge was slippery, but I felt Lee's fingers grip mine so tightly, I knew I wouldn't fall in and drown.

We were inches from the waterfall when Lee loosened his hand from my grasp and I balanced there on my own. It was incredible. The water was powerful and intimidating; the sound of it crashing around me was isolating, nearly terrifying, and yet . . . I felt calm, serene, the eye in the center of the storm. I could hear nothing, not even my own thoughts. I felt nothing, no fear, no anxiety, no sorrow.