Authors: Fabio Bueno
“I guess
,
”
I say, my newfound confidence already gone.
“What did we just do?”
Okay, it
might have
been a date, technically, but what I want to know is wh
at’s next
. Either she doesn’t understand me, or she’s avoiding the issue.
I
change tactics.
“What about the party tomorrow?”
“You mean, Priscilla’s party?” She looks at me. “Do you think it’s a good idea for me?”
She’s got
a point. She’ll have to face the school
crowd
eventually
, but
the
school
,
where a code of conduct might
better
protect her from all the ta
unting I’m sure will take place,
seems safer.
“Let’s ditch the party then, and go out
. J
ust the two of us,” I say. When I don’t hear an enthusiastic agreement, I strengthen my case. “It’s the perfect night, actually. We won’t even risk bumping into another
Greenwood
student in town.
They’ll
all
be at the party.
”
She considers it for a moment,
and
then says, “P
ick me up at
seven
.”
Yes! I look at the road, but I can’t
disguise
the
smug smile
on
my face.
I don’t know what comes after that
.
I don’t have the practice. I’ll
just
go where she leads me.
I arrive back home. From the front porch, the house
looks
different. I left this morning with the weight of the world on my shoulder
s
, a bleak future ahead of me. Now I return, renewed, hopeful. Light.
Waving to Drake as he leaves with t
he Volvo, I wonder what’s ahead
. B
ut I’m afraid to think about it
and dismiss the thought. Let me, for once, enjoy the moment.
I open the doo
r and see Aunt Gemma straighten up on the sofa, her eyes red, her hair disheveled.
“What happened?” I ask, alarmed.
“Where have you been? I called your cell; I called the school!”
She’s completely distraught, shaking. She
stand
s
up
and walks
to me.
“What happened?” I repeat, my voice louder
. I’m freaked out.
She grabs my hand, squeezing it with such force I think my knuckles might break. “Your mother had a heart attack.”
***
The other plane passengers must think I’m afraid of flying, with my hand-wringing and all.
Aunt Gemma sits next to me. We’re still on the tarmac, but her sleeping pills are already kicking in. She’s terrified of flying, but she wouldn’t let me go alone. Even though she’s going to be passed out the
whole
flight, I appreciate the gesture.
I rub my hands together. The pre-flight instructions
make me antsy
. All I can think of is death, death, death.
My last call to London calmed me some. Judi,
Goddess bless her
, told me
Mum
wa
s still unconscious but stable.
I also remember the last time I talked to
Mum
:
I hung up on her
because she said the prank was no big deal.
As it turns out,
she’s right
;
compared to this, it’s no deal at all.
Mum
can’t die. She’s so full of life, with so many friends
. T
rue friends. It always
struck
me as
a
sign of her great personality that her
past
lovers
are still good friends with
her, even with the passion a distant memory. To her, lovers
are
just a special subset of friends.
I feel a little warm inside. Mother was never shy of discussing her romances with me
—
when I asked. For somebody with her partying lifestyle, she di
d a great job of shielding me from
her life. She woul
d
be open about
it, but
she
never tried to imply her choices were the right ones
. O
r the wrong ones, for that matter.
She raised
me
as best as she could, as best as her career would allow.
In certain times, it was good
:
I had time alone and inde
pendence. But there were times
when I missed her being a regular
mum
, a cook-you-dinner and tuck-you-in
to
-bed
fantasy mother out of a sitcom. We did go to the movies, but they were mostly premieres.
Now her awards and
her honors (she’s
Dame
Katherine
Lexington-Ellis
) are little comfort. She must reach into her other treasure trove
—
her friends, her Sisterhood
—
for strength and support.
I pray
to the Goddess
.
If Mum dies, my world is over
.
I’d have no relatives. The Mothers would no doubt welcome me as part of each of their families, but
what would
be the point? I know nobody of my own age, since I was a recluse from the time Connor left me. I have no old school friends, thanks
to
the globetrotting and the tutors. I’d be a ship without a port, cruising aimlessly, with no feeling and no purpose.
I look at my cell again. Phones were
the
bearer
s
of bad news today. Seattle was a bad news place. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.
The elation of this morning is a distant dream now. Poor Drake
. H
e
never had a chance.
There’s one more bit of unpleasantness to go through tonight.
Before takeoff, m
y phone must carry one last mission.
I text Drake, ending our stillborn romance.
Skye
’s gone for good.
I can’t believe
her text
.
It’s over before it start
ed. Didn’t our day out mean any
thing to her?
I know, I know; I sh
ould be worried about her mother. A
s far as I know
her
mother is the only family Skye has. I feel for her, obviously.
Which makes losing her even more painful.
O
nly
one
thing I know for sure I won’t regret doing or saying: I text her
, saying
I hope her mother gets better.
It’s all my fault. What was I thinking? A girl like her and a guy like me? Not in a million years. At least, not something that would last.
The emotions are ove
rwhelming. Simultaneously, I fee
l anger, pain, longing, regret, disappointme
nt, compassion. How should I fee
l? All, some, or none of those?
We
’ve
never even discussed the weird thing she did in the woods,
her
with all the chanting and blood, me with the sizzling sensation.
Maybe she’s into one of those New Age things and thought it might help. I’ll never know.
I was so caught up in trying to get close
to her
that I never stepped back to look at what
that day
meant.
Talking to her is pointless
now
. And I won’t acknowledge her dumping me. Maybe
it will
make things easier for her when she takes it back.
Right.
***
“
Hey, Drake,” Priscilla calls me.
She
rarely talk
s
to
me
. We’re from different planets.
She makes her way through the throng of students. We have some time until the bell
rings.
“Hey, Priscilla.” Nobody calls her
T
he
Predator to her face, but she knows of the nickname.
“Did Skye text you?” s
he asks
. When I hang my head, she nods
and
adds,
“Bummer, huh? She told me you guys skipped school together yesterday.”
“Did you talk to her?” I ask, full of hope. I’m not even shocked Skye chose Priscil
la, of all people, to be her confidant
e
.
“Before she left,” she says, and the hope leaves me.
Priscilla anticipates my question. “She’s not coming back. Sorry.”
“Did she…?”
The Predator looks at me, her eyes suddenly and unexpectedly understanding. “Do you want to hear it? Are you sure?”
“I need to know,” I say.
She pulls me by the arm, to a corner away from the crowd.
“Okay, she didn’t talk much
. M
ost of time she was crying because of her mother, and packing things in a hurry,” she says. “I got bits and pieces. I think she had a boyfriend she’s not over yet.”
Priscilla looks at me to confirm she should go on. I nod.
She says, “She told me the day you went out she had just received a call from him, and it didn’t go well.”
The truth dawns on me.
“She was rebounding
.”
“That’s my guess too. Are you all right?” It’s really odd
,
this display of concern from The Predator.
So I was just at the right place at the right time.
I
n other words, I was the first guy she saw after the boyfriend said whatever to her.
“Hell, no,” I whisper.
Priscilla
moves to touch my face, but
she catches herself
and withdraws her hand
. “It’ll pass,” she says, steely
. “Go have fun. Are
you
coming
to
my
party
tomorrow
?”
I shake my head.
“
Sorry.
That’s the last thing I want to do.”
***
Later, Boulder
and Sean see
my
hangdog face
.
“Why so serious, D-Man?” Sean asks.
“Skye’s gone,” I say, simply. “Back to London.”
Surprised, Boulder says, “Jesus,
Drake
, what’s wrong with you? At least you didn’t scare the girls away
before
.”
Sean giggles. I’m not in the mood for laughs.
I try to explain.
“
She had to go home.
Her mother had a heart attack.”
That stops Sean
cold
.
“For how long?
”
h
e asks, respectfully.
“Forever,
”
I say,
being overly dramatic.
“According to her text.”
“You got dumped by text?” Sean says,
snickering—
back to his normal self.
“She didn’t dump me. We’re not together, remember?” I regret the lie, but I realize
I might not be lying after all.
“You’re taking this pretty hard, man,” Boulder says. “You knew her for, what, a week?”
They don’t know about my romantic day, and I want to keep
it
that way. I
don’t brag about girls
,
maybe because I
’ve
had few opportunities to do so. In any case, I want to keep that day to myself, even if Skye sees it as an accident, a mistake. Mentioning it to the guys will cheapen it even more. But I have to justify my
visible pain
to them, or I won’t hear the end of it.
“She helped me, you know, when I hit my head and all,” I say, lamely. They buy it, though, nodding their heads.