"All I’m saying is, you may as well drive it. It’s been sitting there for two weeks. Who fucking cares where it came from? It’s yours, and you deserve it."
I looked down at the keys in my hand. "Okay," I said under my breath. I wrapped my fingers around the metal and nodded my head once. "Okay," I repeated, reassuringly.
I opened the car door and sat in the drivers seat.
And that’s all I did.
Then the passenger's door swung open, and Ethan slumped into the seat. "Drive," he said, facing forward.
"Huh?"
"Drive. Let’s go home. It’s Tristan’s birthday. Let’s hang out there, forget this space for a while." He waved his hand in a circular motion. He didn’t have to say the words; I knew what he was getting at. I hated this house, and all the memories that came with it. He faced me. "Okay?" he asked.
"I have to work."
He took the keys from my hand, stuck one in the ignition, and turned it over. "I’ll call them, tell them you’ve got lady cramps or whatever. They won’t question it. Come on, Amanda. Let’s just . . . I don't know . . ." He shrugged. "Let’s just find a way to bring you back, even for a little bit."
***
I drove the two and a half hours home in my new car. I couldn’t deny it. I liked having a car; it felt like I was gaining some freedom.
I pulled up to the curb and parked. Ethan and I got out at the same time. He wanted to go to the liquor store and get some beers for him and Tristan, and I wanted to stretch my legs. We were both underage, for the next few months, at least. Ethan had a fake I.D and we were in a different town. I knew this area only by the few times I’d come here with him.
I must have been daydreaming while I was walking, because I didn’t see the store-door swing open, or the body that walked out of it.
Obviously.
Because I slammed right into it.
"Shit," I muttered, trying to regain my footing.
"Fuck." A deep rumble voice came from above my head.
Somehow, my hands had flattened against—what I assumed—was the person’s chest. I couldn’t be sure, because it felt like steel. People aren’t made of steel. I shut my eyes tight. The person’s hands grasped my elbows, trying to hold me up.
I finally settled, but my head was still down and my eyes were still closed. "You all good?" Man of steel asked.
I nodded.
He cleared his throat. "Amanda?"
My head whipped up. My eyes snapped open. "Hey, Dylan."
He let out all the air in his lungs and took a step back. And then he smiled—this huge, megawatt smile I’d never seen on him before. "How are you?"
I smiled back—genuinely—for the first time since he’d left. "I’m doing okay."
"Good."
Then it was quiet. I shuffled my feet. He crossed his arms over his wide chest.
"Are you doing anything right now?" he asked. His words were rushed, like it took all his energy to speak.
I shook my head. "Not really."
"Do you want to maybe go somewhere and talk? Look, I know that we didn’t really—or don’t really—know each other that well, but I think maybe I need to talk to someone I don’t know—about something that—"
"Sure," I cut in. If I didn’t, he’d never stop rambling.
"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows. His hands went into the pockets of his jeans.
I looked away. The mannerism was too similar to someone else I know. Or knew. Whatever. "Uh-huh," I murmured, pulling out my phone to text Ethan.
We ended up sitting on the grass in the park on the other side of the road. I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, so I stayed quiet, until finally, minutes later, he spoke. "You didn’t see where I was coming from when you ran into me like a linebacker, huh?"
My eyes narrowed at his question, then trailed to where we collided. "Oh," I said as understanding dawned. Marine Corps Career Center.
"Yeah," he replied.
"You’re joining the Marines?"
He cleared his throat and leaned back on his outstretched arms. His legs kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. "I think so."
"Huh."
He sat up and faced me, with one eye squinted to block out the sun. "Actually, I don’t think. I’m almost positive I’m going to enlist."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"No one knows?"
"No. I haven’t told anyone."
"Why?"
"Why haven’t I told anyone, or why am I doing it?"
"Both."
"I don’t know." He sighed. "Truthfully, I always planned on it after high school, you know? But then I met Heidi—" He paused, waiting for an emotion to settle before continuing, "I met Heidi, and I didn’t want to be without her. She wanted the college life—I wanted her. It wasn’t a hard decision. I’d have followed her anywhere."
"And now?"
He shrugged. "Now, she still wants the college life, and it’s not for me."
"I’m sorry," I told him. I didn’t know either of them well enough to give more support or advice. Maybe that’s why he’d thought it was okay to talk to me about it. Maybe he’d needed someone who wasn’t going to talk him out of it.
"Me too," he deadpanned.
"So, are you and Heidi done?"
He shook his head. "I don’t think that matters."
"How can it not? I’m sure she—"
"Amanda," he cut in. His tone was flat, serious. He turned his entire body to face me. "I’m sorry."
I reared back a little, surprised by his words. "You’re sorry?" I laughed once. "What? Why?"
He shrugged. "For Logan."
"I don’t want to talk—"
"I know," he said. "Micky and Lucy warned us . . . but I am sorry."
I swallowed my emotions. "You don’t need to be sorry."
It was quiet for a moment. The birds chirped above us. Their sounds seemed to be magnified by our silence. "I get why he did it—why he left."
I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me. "You were his girl, Amanda. He loved the shit out of you. And somehow, his life, merged with yours, caused a horrible outcome. Ask any decent guy; they’d tell you the same thing. It’s our job to protect our girls, to keep them safe, to make them happy. He thought he failed. If it were me, I’d do the same thing. I’d run. Hell, I’m probably doing it now—joining the marines. But it doesn’t even compare to what happened with you. And Logan, he’s a great guy, the best, but he doesn’t know how to handle that kind of hurt, you know?"
I blinked, and let the tears fall.
He kept talking, "I just—I know you hate him, or at least you want to. But don’t blame him for what he did. Maybe running away was the only way he thought to make it right."
I nodded. It was all I could do. Maybe he was right, or maybe I just wanted him to be. He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it. Then we stood in front of each other, my face to his chest—the guy was huge. I tilted my head so I could see his eyes. "Whatever Heidi is making you feel, she’s wrong. She has no idea what she’s about to lose."
I looked down at the keys in my hand. "Okay," I said under my breath. I wrapped my fingers around the metal and nodded my head once. "Okay," I repeated, reassuringly.
I opened the car door and sat in the drivers seat.
And that’s all I did.
Then the passenger's door swung open, and Ethan slumped into the seat. "Drive," he said, facing forward.
"Huh?"
"Drive. Let’s go home. It’s Tristan’s birthday. Let’s hang out there, forget this space for a while." He waved his hand in a circular motion. He didn’t have to say the words; I knew what he was getting at. I hated this house, and all the memories that came with it. He faced me. "Okay?" he asked.
"I have to work."
He took the keys from my hand, stuck one in the ignition, and turned it over. "I’ll call them, tell them you’ve got lady cramps or whatever. They won’t question it. Come on, Amanda. Let’s just . . . I don't know . . ." He shrugged. "Let’s just find a way to bring you back, even for a little bit."
***
I drove the two and a half hours home in my new car. I couldn’t deny it. I liked having a car; it felt like I was gaining some freedom.
I pulled up to the curb and parked. Ethan and I got out at the same time. He wanted to go to the liquor store and get some beers for him and Tristan, and I wanted to stretch my legs. We were both underage, for the next few months, at least. Ethan had a fake I.D and we were in a different town. I knew this area only by the few times I’d come here with him.
I must have been daydreaming while I was walking, because I didn’t see the store-door swing open, or the body that walked out of it.
Obviously.
Because I slammed right into it.
"Shit," I muttered, trying to regain my footing.
"Fuck." A deep rumble voice came from above my head.
Somehow, my hands had flattened against—what I assumed—was the person’s chest. I couldn’t be sure, because it felt like steel. People aren’t made of steel. I shut my eyes tight. The person’s hands grasped my elbows, trying to hold me up.
I finally settled, but my head was still down and my eyes were still closed. "You all good?" Man of steel asked.
I nodded.
He cleared his throat. "Amanda?"
My head whipped up. My eyes snapped open. "Hey, Dylan."
He let out all the air in his lungs and took a step back. And then he smiled—this huge, megawatt smile I’d never seen on him before. "How are you?"
I smiled back—genuinely—for the first time since he’d left. "I’m doing okay."
"Good."
Then it was quiet. I shuffled my feet. He crossed his arms over his wide chest.
"Are you doing anything right now?" he asked. His words were rushed, like it took all his energy to speak.
I shook my head. "Not really."
"Do you want to maybe go somewhere and talk? Look, I know that we didn’t really—or don’t really—know each other that well, but I think maybe I need to talk to someone I don’t know—about something that—"
"Sure," I cut in. If I didn’t, he’d never stop rambling.
"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows. His hands went into the pockets of his jeans.
I looked away. The mannerism was too similar to someone else I know. Or knew. Whatever. "Uh-huh," I murmured, pulling out my phone to text Ethan.
We ended up sitting on the grass in the park on the other side of the road. I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, so I stayed quiet, until finally, minutes later, he spoke. "You didn’t see where I was coming from when you ran into me like a linebacker, huh?"
My eyes narrowed at his question, then trailed to where we collided. "Oh," I said as understanding dawned. Marine Corps Career Center.
"Yeah," he replied.
"You’re joining the Marines?"
He cleared his throat and leaned back on his outstretched arms. His legs kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. "I think so."
"Huh."
He sat up and faced me, with one eye squinted to block out the sun. "Actually, I don’t think. I’m almost positive I’m going to enlist."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"No one knows?"
"No. I haven’t told anyone."
"Why?"
"Why haven’t I told anyone, or why am I doing it?"
"Both."
"I don’t know." He sighed. "Truthfully, I always planned on it after high school, you know? But then I met Heidi—" He paused, waiting for an emotion to settle before continuing, "I met Heidi, and I didn’t want to be without her. She wanted the college life—I wanted her. It wasn’t a hard decision. I’d have followed her anywhere."
"And now?"
He shrugged. "Now, she still wants the college life, and it’s not for me."
"I’m sorry," I told him. I didn’t know either of them well enough to give more support or advice. Maybe that’s why he’d thought it was okay to talk to me about it. Maybe he’d needed someone who wasn’t going to talk him out of it.
"Me too," he deadpanned.
"So, are you and Heidi done?"
He shook his head. "I don’t think that matters."
"How can it not? I’m sure she—"
"Amanda," he cut in. His tone was flat, serious. He turned his entire body to face me. "I’m sorry."
I reared back a little, surprised by his words. "You’re sorry?" I laughed once. "What? Why?"
He shrugged. "For Logan."
"I don’t want to talk—"
"I know," he said. "Micky and Lucy warned us . . . but I am sorry."
I swallowed my emotions. "You don’t need to be sorry."
It was quiet for a moment. The birds chirped above us. Their sounds seemed to be magnified by our silence. "I get why he did it—why he left."
I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me. "You were his girl, Amanda. He loved the shit out of you. And somehow, his life, merged with yours, caused a horrible outcome. Ask any decent guy; they’d tell you the same thing. It’s our job to protect our girls, to keep them safe, to make them happy. He thought he failed. If it were me, I’d do the same thing. I’d run. Hell, I’m probably doing it now—joining the marines. But it doesn’t even compare to what happened with you. And Logan, he’s a great guy, the best, but he doesn’t know how to handle that kind of hurt, you know?"
I blinked, and let the tears fall.
He kept talking, "I just—I know you hate him, or at least you want to. But don’t blame him for what he did. Maybe running away was the only way he thought to make it right."
I nodded. It was all I could do. Maybe he was right, or maybe I just wanted him to be. He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it. Then we stood in front of each other, my face to his chest—the guy was huge. I tilted my head so I could see his eyes. "Whatever Heidi is making you feel, she’s wrong. She has no idea what she’s about to lose."
