Authors: Shey Stahl
“It’s fine mom,” I said
dryly with a smile and trying to be nice, remembering my smile and wave
tactics. “Please stop touching me.”
“It looks fine dear.
She looks beautiful.” My dad acknowledged as he walked into the kitchen where
we were standing. His dark gray suit pressed to perfection complementing his
slender form and dark ginger waves that matched my own. “You’re going to be
late if we don’t leave now.”
My dad insisted on
being twenty minutes early for everything. He was always this way. Imagine
showing up for your first day of kindergarten twenty minutes early. It was
incredibly awkward at times trying to be the cool kid that rolled in late. I
was never that.
“I’m ready.” I told
them with another smile reaching for my cap and gown on the table.
As we pulled out of the
driveway in my dad’s BMW, I glanced across the street to see my rebel of a
neighbor getting in his piece of shit ‘68 Pontiac GTO. I guess it wasn’t really
a piece of shit car, it was a rather nice classic car, but it smelled like
alcohol and burned your eyes if you got too close to it.
My dad said it was
because he used illegal gas in it but I didn’t know for sure nor did I care for
that matter. Dylan Wade, the rebel as I referred to him, never talked to me
anymore and wouldn’t even look my direction. I guess I understood why.
Dylan and I were
friends when we were younger. He was my first kiss, a kiss that absorbed the
suns glow, but when he started rebelling against his dad when his mom died,
that was the end of our friendship.
My dad refused to let
me associate with him any longer when he set all the mailboxes on our street on
fire on Christmas Eve the same year his mom died. It was actually a beautiful
sight to see, but the neighbors weren’t too happy. I always thought his pranks
were humorous.
Like the time he took
clear fishing line and strung it up across the sidewalk. No one could figure
out why they kept tripping near his house. He had everyone convinced he cast
some kind of spell on them. I laughed. It was funny. I always had a lot of
entertainment from Dylan. We had a number of classes together but he rarely
showed for any of them these days.
Since Dylan turned
eighteen in October, he seemed to have been getting in more trouble after being
charged with starting a riot at the school dance that spread to the streets. He
also set the school gym on fire―twice―and then, though no one had
any proof, nearly destroyed the city hall when he strapped M80’s to John
Warner’s car, the Prosecuting Attorney for Thurston County.
No one was hurt but
word on the street was that Dylan Wade did that and no one questioned it. It
was something Dylan would have done.
Dylan was good at not
getting caught. Some would say that if being a criminal were a profession,
Dylan Wade would have a career in it.
It broke my heart that
we had lost touch with each other but it never stopped me from watching him. In
all fairness, I was a tad “
stalkerish
” when it came
to Dylan Wade.
How could I not be?
Dylan was Dylan. He was my first love. Even at seven, I knew I loved him. He
was my first kiss, the only boy that matter back when watermelon bubble gum and
the smells of summer were my only thoughts. Every thought from my childhood had
Dylan in it. Every memory had a tie to him in some way.
Once we arrived at Saint Martin’s
College where our graduation was being held, Eric found me with his bright
smile that made most girls at our school blush. It stopped working on me a few
years ago. “Hey babe, you ready for your speech?”
“Aren’t I always?” I
replied with a fake smile. I was good at fake smiles. As I spoke, I felt a rush
rise in my gut and my cheeks flush with anger, an anger I never understood.
Maybe it had to do with
graduation and more to do with what followed graduation. I’m not sure.
“Yes—you’re perfect,”
he replied pulling me into a hug. “Are you ready for the lake tonight?”
I kissed his cheek,
automatic, controlled movements. “Sure, when do we leave?”
Something happened to
me when I kissed his cheek. I felt nothing. I didn’t feel a spark or any type
of connection to him.
Wasn’t I supposed to
feel something?
“Right after the
ceremony,” Eric answered looking over his shoulder at Mercedes walking toward
us.
The plan was for us to
go to Lake Washington, a place we partied at often, for the weekend with our
friends to celebrate graduation. Eric’s dad had a houseboat that he kept there.
After graduation, I was
all set to attend Dartmouth in the fall with Mercedes. Eric would be at the
University
Of
Notre Dame some thirteen hours away and
part of me was okay with that. I honestly wasn’t sure our relationship would
make it past this summer let alone a long distance one.
Kasey Henley,
Mercedes’s boyfriend, who I actually adored, was heading to the University of
Washington on a football scholarship. Kasey was the most likable guy at our
school and had issues like everyone else. I think that’s what made him so real
and likeable. You knew he wasn’t perfect.
Our sophomore year
Kasey got a DUI when he was driving home from a party and nearly lost his
license over it, and, in turn, almost didn’t get the scholarship. Reality set
in and Kasey worked hard and proved that he could turn his life around and he
did, despite the trouble he got into and was now heading to college with a full
ride to play football for UW.
Everyone had college
plans, including me but deep down, I didn’t want to go to college. I didn’t
understand the pressure to go to college. Was it because that’s what society
wanted? Is there something to be said for that diploma as opposed to actual on
the job training? What did college offer that experience didn’t?
Even with my thoughts
today, it wasn’t long before I found myself being ushered in the gymnasium to
give my speech. The only problem was that I threw away the only speech I had
prepared. To me it just didn’t seem good enough anymore.
When I approached the
podium, I saw my grandparents with their bright smiles.
My
parents, my brother, Eric, Mercedes, Kasey and the rest of our superficial
friends.
In the back of the gym
I saw Dylan Wade, my lost childhood friend. I’ve seen Dylan almost every day
since we were three-years-old but today I noticed him, really noticed him,
smoking a cigarette with smoke billowing from his mouth and nose after each
drag.
We were inside Saint
Martin’s gym and he was smoking a cigarette. Very Dylan like. His knee was
bent, his foot propped against the wall, his head bent forward with one hand in
his pocket, the other holding his cigarette.
That wasn’t what drew
my attention to him. What drew my attention to him were his demeanor and the
fact that he wasn’t wearing a gown like the rest of us.
Dylan has always acted
a little strange, a bit of a recluse, but today he was standing so calmly,
staring at me intently, like he was trying to burn a whole through me. He
wasn’t fidgeting like he normally did; he was acting normal for Dylan
standards. His brown hair still had its usual untamed waves in the front and
his clothes, his usually dark flannels rolled up to his elbows and his vintage
band t-shirts, had the same worn appearance that they always had but he was
different.
I stared back wondering
what he was thinking. We didn’t look at each other much these days. Honestly, I
couldn’t help but stare back questioning what he was looking at. Over the
years, the most I’ve heard him say was “Fuck off” and that was usually directed
at teachers, when he came to class, or other students who tried to talk to him.
Dylan didn’t like people to talk to him, never had, even when we were little.
He just didn’t talk that much.
So what made today
different?
I wasn’t sure, but the
day brought me from my thoughts.
Everyone applauded when
they announced me as the valedictorian and I wanted to roll my eyes at how
ridiculous this all was. How did I get to be valedictorian?
Looking around for an
answer, everyone continued to applaud except for Dylan. Head bowed to the
floor, he took another drag from his cigarette before shifting his gaze to the
door and then back to the stage.
“Thank you everyone.” I
smiled and took a deep breath to prepare myself. I had a speech planned out but
once I got to the podium, none of it came to mind as I stared at Dylan, still
smoking his cigarette.
Looking at him doing
what he wanted, when he wanted, I so desperately wanted that. I wanted to feel
the freedom he felt, unpredictable freedom. I wanted to be out of control and I
wanted to be a rebel. I wanted a sunrise, an opal sun dripping from the sky,
with a new day where anything was possible and the sunset was unknown.
Dylan was never
predictable, even at a young age I knew that, but lately, he was even more
unpredictable but he was also persuasive, he had a vibe to him like that.
I remember being at the
Homecoming dance earlier in the year when that riot broke out all over
Dylan getting in a fight with Jensen Williams, another football player. That’s
when Dylan started provoking the other students by yelling and shoving. He did
it on purpose. I knew that much. Enticing the mob of students and loving every
minute of it, I watched him closely that night. Dylan could goad just about
anyone, he knew it, and worked it to his advantage most of the time.
My heart was pounding
rapidly in my chest as I stood there looking for an answer and then while I
took in the admiring gazes of my peers and parents, I snapped, the moment
before the dark turned to light, the moment when everything was unpredictable.
I couldn’t do this
anymore. I couldn’t be this person they wanted me to be.
“Everyone expects me to
come up here and give a speech about how I got to where I am because of all my
hard work and that may be right. I did work hard. But I’m not so sure I did
that for myself. I did it because my parents wanted me to. I did it because it
was what was expected of me and what I was pushed to do.”
My parent’s eyes went
wide and my dad shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. The hard line
of his lips confirmed my thoughts that he was seeing red. Jeff Gray didn’t like
surprises.
Though I didn’t want to
look at him, I looked to Dylan. Somewhat reserved, he smiled running his hand
over the stubble of his defined jaw seeming amused but hiding it well.
After another deep
breath, I continued. “I’m not going to stand up here and lecture everyone that,
with hard work, you can achieve it too. Well, you can have it if you want. You
can have it
all
. I don’t want any of it.”
If I thought, my
parent’s eyes were wide before, they looked like they were both about to have a
fucking heart attack now. It was a great feeling.
“The truth is that my
entire life has been planned out for me. Did you know I couldn’t even buy my
own underwear? My mom does that for me,” I said with a laugh.
My dad, who had shot
out of his chair in embarrassment, had reached the stage by then and grabbed my
arm. Straining to speak into the microphone, I needed to say one more part that
was important.
“Looks like my times up
but I just wanted to say one last thing to everyone…fuck off!”
With a bow, I smiled
and flipped my hair over my shoulder and flashed my gesture to the crowd.
I looked back into the
stunned wide-eyes of the audience and smiled again. My mom was crying large
fake tears as my brother watched me curiously as if I had lost my mind. Eric
was glaring at me along with Mercedes. Kasey was smiling like he was proud and
Dylan was now shaking with laughter in the back of the room, obviously amused by
my outburst.
My dad escorted me off
stage only to yank me forward trying to shake the nonsense out of me. “What is
wrong with you young lady!” he barked walking me behind the stage away from the
others. Large curtains draped around us blocking my view of the crowd to the
right.
“What?” I tried to play
it cool giving my blue eyes a glazed over appearance. It could have worked but
the thought that I was trying to play it cool after that had me nearly
laughing. A smiled threatened any minute and before he spoke, I was smiling.
“Don’t what
me
Bailey Ann. You have embarrassed our entire family with that little stunt of
yours. What has become of you?”
I jerked my arm away.
“Maybe this was me all along!” I shot back, angry that he was making such a big
deal out of this. “You have no idea who I am. You know the daughter you
want
to know.”
“No, that’s not the
daughter I raised.” By the reverberation of his voice, I could tell this had
nothing to do with the outburst and more to do with the fact that someone had
humiliated him. “The daughter I raised would never disrespect her family that
way.”
There. He said it. It
was once again, about him and not me.
“You don’t know what
kind of daughter you raised. You don’t even know me. You know the daughter you
want to know. You planned me as though I was some sort of toy for you. Well you
know what, I’m tired of this!” I choked, on the verge of tears now. “I won’t be
your marionette anymore.”
I never wanted this. I
never wanted any of this. I didn’t want this life. They could have their
perfect daughter but that was not me and I wouldn’t do it any longer.
I ran toward the
parking lot. Eric caught me before I could reach it, his face the same shocked
disappointment everyone else had. “What was that? Do you realize how much trouble
you’re going to be in!” he too reached for my arm attempting to redirect me
back to the school.
“Let go Eric. I’m
getting out of here.” Jerking away, I tried to run but he caught up with me.