The Pace (12 page)

“And, I would like for you to meet him.”

Oh no
, I thought, fighting hard to refrain from rolling my eyes. It was all too much. I had my own problems to deal with. I wasn’t about to play the mother with her. I tried to get my point across without sounding too selfish.

“Mom, you don’t need me to meet him. I’m sure anyone you choose to hang out with will be fine.” The word “please” kept repeating in my mind over and over as I waited for her reply.

“Well, I would like your opinion. He’s really persistent, and I’m not sure about him. I could use your input,” she added.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I want your approval,” she countered.

Her eyes were desperate and conflicted, and I wished I had more time to decipher them, but the truth was, I was just dying to get out of there.

“You have my approval, Mom,” I said, standing up to put my bowl in the sink.

“Really. Just like that? You don’t even want to meet him?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. Just not yet…I’d rather wait.”

“Okay. Fair enough,” she said, nodding and assessing my expression. I threw in a little forced smile and when she was satisfied with her assessment, she went back to drinking her coffee. Relieved, I smoothly made my exit.

I wasn’t sure why my mother would need my approval. I didn’t care if she’d met someone. I suppose I might have been weirded out by the idea of her bringing someone else into our lives before, but I was eighteen now, and I had my own future to worry about. In a way, I was happy for her to have someone else. I had always worried about her being alone after I moved out, so the idea of her meeting someone didn’t bother me at all. But, that didn’t mean I had to play, “Meet the Daughter.” No, I was glad she’d let me off the hook, for now.

I went to work on Saturday, still hesitant at the idea of confronting Wes about the discrepancies I’d discovered, but after an hour of complete boredom, I text messaged him: NO MORE WORK. WANT TO MEET? I set the phone down on the counter and after only a minute, I stared at it, wondering why he hadn’t replied. I didn’t even notice Dawn sneak up behind me.

“Are you waiting for it to jump up and dance?” she asked. I looked up to notice her eyeing my phone. I let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Hmm…I’m betting a guy…no, not just a guy. A really cute guy,” she said, hypothesizing.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Because you wouldn’t be watching it that hard if it wasn’t.”

She had a point.

“I’m just a little nervous,” I admitted.

She pulled up a stool and sat beside me, closing in so Mr. Healey couldn’t hear us. He was busy doing whatever he always seemed to do, but she acted like he was eavesdropping. I shrugged my shoulders casually. “It’s nothing really. Just a guy. I think we are going to have a ‘talk’ today.” I put up quotation symbols with my fingers when I said the word talk.

“Ah hah. You mean like doing it?”

“No!” I snapped, loud enough for her father to turn his head our way. “
Just
a talk,” I clarified.

She looked at me like I was hiding something, but then she eased off. “Sorry.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Wes and I weren’t even close to going there, but she didn’t know that, so I just said, “It’s okay.” Just then, the phone started vibrating on the counter. Both of our eyes turned to watch as it shifted in a circular motion.

“It won’t bite,” she said.

“Oh, shush,” I said, grabbing the phone and elbowing her simultaneously. I don’t know why I was being so weird. I think I was just nervous because of what I had to say. If he accepted, there was no turning back, and if he declined, I feared I was too late to salvage anything, if there was anything at all worth salvaging.

I looked down at the message from him: YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK. JUST CALL ME AND TELL ME WHEN. An involuntary smile went across my face, and I felt a huge sigh of relief, which I was trying to control. I couldn’t help but feel all warm inside, but there were still major details left to hash out, so I wasn’t going to let myself feel all fluttery until they were resolved.

“You
are
aren’t you?” Dawn accused again.

“Oh please, get your head out of the toilet. I barely know him.”

“If you say so,” she said, going back to her own business of passing the time.

I was telling her the truth. I had more immediate things to think about, such as calling him and working out the details. I already knew that I didn’t want him picking me up at my house. I had to figure out somewhere to meet, because I wanted to drive. I would feel more in control that way.

I chose to meet at the marina after work. I thought the pier would be a good place to talk. It wasn’t anywhere out of the ordinary. People went there all the time, but it also allowed for privacy. It was perfect.

W
hen I pulled into the parking lot, his car was already there. I parked a few cars down, and then I got out and looked around for him. It was hard to see if he was in his car because his windows were tinted.

As I approached his vehicle, he stepped out. He looked beyond good, as usual, but I was taken aback by the winter hat he was wearing. It did seem like an unusually cold evening for early November, but I didn’t need to be bundled up the way he was. I started thinking he was just trying to look good with the accessory, and if he was, he pulled it off very well.

“I guess it gets a little cold out here this late in the year,” I said, as he approached me.

“Maybe a little, but I think we’ll be okay,” he assured.

I liked the sound of “we” a little too much, and walking beside him was making it all too easy to forget my apprehensions, but I needed to stay focused. Lucky for me, he was being very accommodating. He was patiently giving me as much room as I needed.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been out much lately,” I said. I paused, but he remained attentive without commenting. “I had two tests and two projects due, plus my mom met someone new. It’s been really crazy around my house.” It wasn’t a total lie. I did have tests and projects, and my mom
was
seeing someone new, even if I’d only found that out in the last day or so.

“You don’t have to explain anything.” He was sincere as always, which was making him that much more alluring.

“Well, I think I do. The truth is, it’s very hard to focus when I’m around you. I needed to clear my head.” We found a stopping point on the pier, and he turned to look at me. The dark backdrop of the night was making it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the attraction I felt for him.

“Clear your head about what?” he asked.

I needed to choose my words very carefully. I thought I could accomplish what I wanted by being a little more honest than I’d intended. “Well,” I said. “I feel like I don’t know who you are. You know everything about me. You’ve even met my mom. I feel like you’re too perfect to be true, honestly.”

He shook his head and looked at his feet. “I’m far from perfect.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, you’re so mature, and you have all your goals lined up, and you’re so responsible, and you own your own house.” I turned toward the water and leaned on the rail. “Your parents must have really been good people.”

“They were,” he said, leaning his elbows on the rail next to me.

“I’m just amazed at the way you’re able to handle everything.” I paused, hoping not to give away my suspicion. “How old were you when you lost your dad?”

“I was three,” he answered, without a stutter. I looked out over the water, trying not to appear too rehearsed. After a moment, I asked him something I hadn’t thought about before.

“So your mom raised you alone, or did you have a stepfather?”

He shook his head immediately. “No, my mom was alone. She spent her life taking care of me after my father died.” He was staring off into the water reflecting. “I owe her more than you can imagine.”

“She must have been a great woman,” I offered, feeling pity again. Listening to him sound so open and genuine with me made me almost forget what I’d discovered.

“I’m not so sure I could be as strong as you,” I continued.

“Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“I’m not. It’s true. If something happened to my mother, I would be lost. I wouldn’t have anyone. At least you had your uncle.” It wasn’t a question, but I hoped it would spark a reply from him.

“Yes, I did. I was very lucky.”

My pity was turning into rage, but I remained composed. “Did he teach you everything you know, or did your mother?”

He reflected a moment. “Both, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

A small group of girls and guys our age walked by, a little too rambunctious to carry on an uninterrupted conversation, so he waited until they passed.

“My mother taught me how to be caring and kind, and my uncle taught me how to take care of myself.”

It all sounded so wonderful—if only it was the truth. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew it didn’t add up to anything I’d found out about him, and yet he was so convincing. Frustrated, I asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

He looked at me, confused. “Because you asked.”

“No, I mean, why are you telling me things that aren’t true?”

He leaned off the rail at my accusation and faced me. “I don’t know what you mean.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were studying me intensely.

“You said your father died when you were three. I found an article that said he died last year.”

His eyes narrowed as the information registered. “That article was not about my father.”

“So are you telling me there is more than one Weston Wilson II who died in a plane crash?”

“No—”

“Look Weston, I don’t want to bring up things that are painful for you, but I don’t like being lied to either.”

“I’m not lying to you.” His attention was diverted as he looked over his shoulder. I peeked around to see the distraction for myself. He was looking down the pier. I could barely make out the group that walked by us before. I couldn’t hear them anymore, but it looked like one of them was climbing the rail. I quickly focused back to my own conversation.

“Then why did you tell me you lived with an uncle who died fifty years ago?” Upon hearing my question, he whipped his head around.

“How did you know that?”

“I found an article about him, too.”

He dropped his head and closed his eyes. It was enough of an indication to me that what I’d found was correct. I felt a tightening in my chest as I realized that he hadn’t been truthful. Then, I began to feel panicked. I wasn’t even sure who he was. I started to step backward, away from him, but he stepped toward me, holding me by my shoulders. Instinctively, I tried to wriggle free, but he tightened his grip.

“Please, Sophie, listen to me. I didn’t lie to you.”

“Then what do you call it?” I countered.

He looked over his shoulder again in irritation at the group, and his distraction made me even more angry. “What do you call it then?” I repeated, bringing his attention back to me.

“I don’t know, but I didn’t lie. I can’t explain it.”

“Is your name even Wes?”

“Of course it is.”

I pulled his arms down to free myself. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re lying, but I can’t be friends with someone I don’t trust. Unless you’re going to tell me the truth, then I can’t keep seeing you.” I waited for his answer, not even sure that hearing the truth now would suffice.

“I am telling you the truth,” he said. “I wouldn’t tell you lies.” It was as if he wanted to say something more, but he chose not to. He was giving me no reasonable explanation to stay, and although something in me wanted to, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who was dishonest. After a moment of staring at his perfect face, I took a few steps backward. “Fine, I’m leaving.”

He lowered his shoulders at the realization that it was over, but this time he made no attempt to stop me. I turned toward the parking lot and began my walk back from the pier, having reluctantly made up my mind to forget about this seemingly perfect but mysterious boy. Within a few moments, I felt that dreaded lump build in my throat. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was mad or if it was because I was making a mistake, but I kept walking, determined to hold my ground. Somewhere inside, I was hoping to hear him call my name, but he didn’t. Instead, the silence was broken by the sounds of ear-piercing screams. I stiffened and turned back quickly to see where the sound had come from. It was down the pier.

Wes and I simultaneously began to head toward the source. He picked up his pace to a light jog, and I was running heavily to keep up.

By the time we reached the end of the pier, we saw one of the guys climb to the top of the railing and jump over. “Oh my God!” I yelled in shock. There were four other people leaning over the rail. “He just jumped. Oh my God. Why?” I asked, completely frantic.

Another girl was screaming. “I can’t see her. I can’t see.”

Wes was looking over the pier.

“What happened?” I yelled.

“Lisa! She fell over! She was playing around!” a girl yelled, looking at me in desperation.

“No, I saw a guy,” I corrected.

“That’s her boyfriend. He’s going after her.” She turned back to the water, and I looked over as well. It was a long drop, and Wes put his arm around me to hold me steady. We could hardly see anything. A faint glow from the nearby park made it light enough to see a break in the black water. We were all leaning over.

“Clay!” a boy shouted down.

“I can’t find her. I can’t find her!”

He went back under, and I started taking off my coat.

“What are you doing?” Wes asked.

“I’m going in,” I answered, sliding out of my coat.

He slid it back on. “Are you crazy?”

“We can’t just let her drown,” I snapped, looking around, wondering why everyone else was just standing there. Wes studied my face.

“Damn it,” he said, looking over the edge. “No,
you
stay.”