Authors: Sarah Ripley
"Thelma's is just down the road," Dad said. "I'm sure she'll have an opening. Nothing fancy. Just four walls and a bed but she's clean and affordable."
"Sounds perfect," the man said. "How much for the tow?"
Dad and the man went over to the counter so that they could get the paperwork started.
I stood there, feeling about as foolish as humanly possible for a few more minutes before I finally turned and headed back into the cold. Outside the snow seemed to have fallen about ten more inches. The footsteps leading up to the door were all ready beginning to disappear under the fresh powder. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what had terrified me so much a few minutes ago. Glancing back through the window I could see them chatting away as if they were old friends. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his credit card. There was something relaxing about that. A crazed killer most likely wouldn’t give out his Visa number if he wasn’t planning on getting caught. Of course it could be a fake but I brushed that thought away. Killers didn’t bring their sons along with them.
The whole idea sounded absurd and I couldn’t help myself—I giggled. It wasn’t like me to overreact but I guess even the smoothest sailing person will sometimes jump the boat a little early. Normally I was quite well adjusted. I didn’t fall apart during a crisis (unless it involved Algebra) and I was usually the first to offer help when needed. I didn’t get scared easily either. I wasn’t the type to scream at horror movies or cover my eyes with my hands like some of the other girls I knew. My good friend Amber couldn’t watch a scary movie without spazzing at least ten times and I was usually the one who walked her home afterwards. But that was half the fun. A movie wasn’t nearly as good as the reaction it caused.
Outside, I could see that Dad had moved the busted car off to the side. The son was outside, pacing around and still talking on the phone.
He spun around and I got my first glance at Kian. I didn’t know his name at the time but there was something about his face that made me immediately think that I’d seen him before. Of course my second thought was that I had to be wrong. If I had met him, I most certainly would have remembered. There was no girl in the universe that could forget his face. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful looking guy I’d ever seen in my life.
He gave me a curt nod and then turned his back. He spoke into the phone in a language I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Spanish for French, I knew that much for I’d studied both in school. He didn’t sound very happy but that wasn’t surprising—he’d almost taken a ride off a cliff.
I just couldn't help myself. I watched him for a few minutes, admiring the way his jeans fit him perfectly. His head was covered in snowflakes and as they melted, his brown, shaggy hair became slick and shiny. Every time he turned towards me I averted my gaze but found myself staring out of the corner of my eye. I just couldn’t help myself. When he finally got off the phone I did everything in my power to pretend I hadn’t just spent the last few minutes gazing at him like he was the only guy on earth.
“Sorry,” he said in the same unique accent like his father. Placing the phone in his pocket, he gave me a smile, showing straight, white teeth.
"That's ok," I said.
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said and he put his phone back in his pocket. “I needed to make a few calls. We were supposed to be somewhere. Now it looks like we’re not going to make it.”
“I’m sure people will understand,” I said. “It’s not every day that you come into such close contact with a tree.”
He smiled and stepped forward. His face came into the light and I got my first good glance at him. I’d never seen anyone with such a perfect face before. His skin was smooth, not a single blemish or pimple in sight. His hair was longish and naturally wavy. It wasn’t until he brushed the shaggy bangs back that I saw his eyes. They were bright blue.
My face burned. I pulled myself away and pretended to look off in the distance at nothing in particular.
“Where were you and your Dad going?” I asked. “Not that I'm nosy. You don't have to tell me.” His eyes followed my every move. With my luck he was the kind of guy who never missed a thing. The way he looked at me was embarrassing. I was beginning to feel like I had a booger on my face. It must have been some sort of family trait.
“My Dad?” he asked. There was a hint of amusement and sarcasm in his voice. “Yes, of course.”
“He's not your Dad? I'm sorry, I just assumed.”
"Yeah, he is," the boy said quickly.
"Oh. Ok."
“My name is Kian,” he said. “And you are...”
“Myra. But everyone calls me Mai.”
He took my hand and an electric shock exploded between us. I pulled back, giggling, rubbing my fingers.
“It’s the weather,” I said. “It gets dry because of the wind and everything becomes a static cling commercial. Even in the snow. Sorry about that.”
He was still holding out his hand so I took it and his fingers were cool and soft. Shaking my hand gently, his eyes started at my fingertips and worked their way back up to my face. Parting and closing his lips, he swallowed and smiled again.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mai.
You look familiar. I feel like I’ve met you before.”
“Maybe I have one of those faces,” I said but I knew exactly what he meant because I was feeling the same thing. There was something recognizable but I was absolutely positive I’d never met him before. I just couldn’t shake the feeling. He was comfortable, like meeting up with an old friend after a prolonged absence.
“Have you lived here all your life?” he asked. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he studied it as if he didn’t really want the answer to the question he’d just asked.
“I was born in Ireland,” I said. “But I don’t remember it. We moved here when I was a baby.”
“Ireland?” He nodded as if what I’d said made some sort of perfect sense to him. When he glanced up again he must have noticed the look on my face because he tried to explain himself. “You look Irish.”
“Um, thanks.”
The lights in the shop flickered as a second power surge occurred. We both glanced at the window at the same time.
“That’s some storm,” I said, aware that I was beginning to babble. “I hope nothing gets knocked out. No power this time of year is nasty.”
The door opened and Dad came out with Kian’s father right behind him. They were both deep in conversation and didn’t even look towards us. Dad was talking about cars as usual.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to fix your Toyota,” he said as he trampled fresh prints in the snow. “Tomorrow morning I can take you over to Barry’s car shop. Might be able to get you a good deal on a used car. I’m sure your insurance will help you.”
“Thank you.”
The man looked at me and then Kian. There seemed to be some sort of silent communication between them. It was creepy and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Dad watched them both carefully, a small frown formed on his face.
“You can fill out the rest of the forms later and bring them back tomorrow, Mr. Gallant,” he said.“But you’ll have to forgive me. It’s late and my daughter and I are expected back at home for dinner. Hopefully we can get there before the power goes out. It’s going to be one hell of a storm.”
“Of course,” he said. “And call me Micah.”
“Come on,
Dad
,” Kian said. There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice. Micah raised an eyebrow in response.
There was something definitely fishy about these two. I glanced over at Dad but he wasn’t paying attention. He jiggled the keys in his hand, obviously thinking about the meatloaf dinner Marley probably had waiting for us at home.
Besides, my curiosity wasn’t going to get the better of me. It wasn’t like I was ever going to see the two of them again. Tomorrow morning they’d get themselves a new car and head off to whatever was waiting for them.
Back at home, Marley had dinner on the table. Chilli instead of meatloaf. Not much of a difference. Almost all of her cooking tasted pretty much the same.
Marley was Dad’s long time girlfriend. She also worked at the shop with Dad and me. They’d been together for eight years, since I was a small kid. But yet I didn’t call her Mom or anything like that. She just wasn’t the type of person you call that. My real mother died in a car accident when I was a baby and I never knew her.
I went upstairs to drop my backpack off in my room and found Granny sitting on my bed in the dark. She was wearing headphones and rocking back and forth to what sounded like Johnny Cash. She loved music and even had her own iPod, something that I had insisted on getting her last Christmas. She was holding it in both hands, swaying back and forth, and the volume was up really loud since she was almost deaf. I could hear Johnny singing about a Boy named Sue.
“Hi
Granny.” I turned on the lights and waved at her. She smiled and waved back but there was no recognition in her eyes. Granny had Alzheimer’s so talking to her could sometimes be a real challenge. She forgot things like where she was and she was doing half the time. Sometimes she’d wander off and we’d have to go looking for her. She didn’t always know who I was either.
“Hello Helen,” Granny said. Helen was my mother’s name. Sometimes she got the two of us confused. She used to tell me stories about her when I was a little girl. She still talks about her but more in the way someone with Alzheimer’s talks about people in the past. Usually
the events will spill from her mouth with no rhyme or reason.
“I’m Myra, Granny,” I said. Sometimes it sunk in.
“Ok, Helen.”
Sometimes not.
I helped Granny down to the table for dinner which went uneventfully. Usually when there are accidents on the highway Dad manages to use it as a perfect opportunity to lecture me on unsafe driving. He thinks Connor drives too fast. I think he’s being too old. Dad forgets what it’s like to be young but every now and then you can get him talking about his youth. He used to race cars back in the day and even he’ll admit he used to drive a whole lot scarier than my boyfriend.
But tonight Dad must have had something else on his mind because he didn’t say a single word about our crash visitors. He had a look on his face as if he was trying to figure out nuclear physics. The frown lines on his forehead were deeply impacted and he barely touched his meal.
Of course my phone rang halfway through dinner. I jumped out of my seat and was halfway across the living room to grab it out of my jacket.
“Mai, what have I told you about that damn phone?”
“Sorry, Dad,” I said. “But I’m expecting a call.” I picked it up and checked the caller id. It was Connor.
“Dinner is family time,” Dad yelled from the table. “Tell that boy of yours to stop calling while we’re eating.”
“I will,” I said and I answered the phone.
“Hey,” Connor said. “Wanna meet up at Bean’s in an hour? Study night?”
Bean Town was the local hangout for the teenagers. It had internet and late hours which made it appealing to those who actually studied. For others, it was a place to hang out and get wired on lots of mochas and espresso. My group of friends were kind of in the middle. Sometimes we studied; mostly we hung out and had a good time.
I glanced back at Dad and Marley and they weren’t paying attention to me in the slightest. Granny had spilled some of her chilli on the floor and was trying to pick it up with her fingers. Marley knocked her chair over in her mad rush to clean before tomato sauce ended up everywhere.
“Yeah, Ok,” I said. “Do you want to meet there?”