What a mess.
I was nervous driving on the winding road through the pitch-dark woods, even with my night vision. I kept seeing the eyes of little animals reflected in the headlights, sometimes darting across the road and making me slam on the brakes.
It wasn’t until we were out of the forest and on a main road that I finally allowed myself to think about all that happened tonight. The more I thought about what Scott had done, the more upset I got. And I was disgusted at myself for enjoying it. I would have to deal with Scott eventually. I hated confrontation, but he couldn’t be allowed to get away with it. At least the school year was over and I wouldn’t have to face any of those people for a couple of months.
But all of my anger toward Scott and embarrassment at my own behavior were overshadowed by the conversation with Kaidan. Just thinking about it made my heart race all over again. I couldn’t believe it. He was really like me. Which was what, exactly? He knew, of course. I wished I could have talked with him longer. I wondered how I could get hold of him.
I supposed I could attach my phone number to a pair of my undies and throw them onstage at his next show. The thought actually made me laugh out loud. He’d probably take one look at the white cotton panties and chuck them in the trash.
Jay stirred. He tried to say something, but it came out in one big slur.
“What, Jay?” I used my soothing voice.
“Gonna be sick!”
Oh! I pulled the car over and leaned over Jay to fling open his door, which stuck, as always. I got it open just in time.
We had to stop once more after that. Poor Jay. I rubbed his back as he closed the door and leaned against it. There wasn’t much else I could do. He began whimpering as we pulled into his neighborhood.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I don’t wanna be like Grampa Len.” His whimper turned to a pained moan.
“Who? What do you mean?”
He didn’t say anything else coherent after that. Jana stood by the curb with her arms crossed, ticked. I’d hate to be Jay tomorrow, for more reasons than one. Jana was hard-core goth and didn’t take any crap.
She and I got him flopped onto his bed without waking his parents, and then Jana drove me home.
“What in the world possessed him to get so hammered?” she asked me.
“The party was a little overwhelming.”
“Wait, was this the one out at the lake? Even I heard about that party tonight. Must have been insane.”
“It was crazy.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“Who’s Grandpa Len?” I asked.
“Huh? Oh, he mentioned him? Yeah, that’s our mom’s dad. He was this raging alcoholic. To hear Mom tell it, though, he was the nicest guy sober. She was crazy about him. Everyone was. Then he would drink and it was like he had this evil twin. He hurt a lot of people. He battled his share of demons and eventually lost.”
CHAPTER SIX
OUT OF THE DARK DAYS
It was already muggy and hot on our balcony at nine the next morning as I took a sip of my cocoa. There was no breeze, and the smell of cow manure wafted from a nearby pasture. Patti came out with her coffee and sniffed, crinkling her nose. She opened her paper and I opened my book. I couldn’t concentrate. Too much had happened at the party last night.
I didn’t like thinking about the day of my birth, partly because it was unnatural to be able to remember that far back, and partly because I couldn’t make sense of it. I didn’t know how it should make me feel, and I didn’t want to feel the wrong thing, if that were even possible. But now that Kaidan had picked that scab, it was bleeding and needed tending.
I called the time before my birth the “dark days.” Not because they were bad, but because being in utero was dark. It was like being cradled in a warm hammock at night. What I remembered most was the sound of my mother’s voice. She was singing the first time I was able to hear the warbled sounds. When I thought to try out my limbs, pushing out to meet the firm, smooth resistance surrounding me, she’d push back and laugh, which bounced me. Jonathan LaGray’s voice had been there during my dark days, too, booming gravelly and gruff.
Being born was disorienting—too bright and too cold—but worst of all had been the feeling of having lost some sort of knowledge that had been commonplace during my dark days.
I couldn’t see well with my filmy infant vision, but I remember the impact of the man’s eyes as they bore down on me that day. They were filled with some of the knowledge that I now lacked.
Just say no to drugs, will ya, kid?
I never knew whether the gruff man’s message to me had been serious or sarcastic. I’d never seen him again.
I could still recall the nun, a wrinkled old woman who emitted a pure lavender peace. And Patti, standing over me with her hair falling around her face the day she came to get me. She nearly exploded with love when they placed me in her outstretched hands, as if I were a fragile gift.
That was the only part of the memory I understood, and could therefore cherish freely: the moment I met Patti.
I watched her now as she turned the page of the newspaper and hummed to herself. A train passed by on the hill through a scattering of pine trees.
“I met someone who’s like me,” I said. The train blew its whistle.
The newspaper slipped from Patti’s hands and fell to the floor in a crinkly swoosh. I was taken aback by the black storm cloud of emotion that billowed around her.
“Patti?” I whispered.
I was nervous driving on the winding road through the pitch-dark woods, even with my night vision. I kept seeing the eyes of little animals reflected in the headlights, sometimes darting across the road and making me slam on the brakes.
It wasn’t until we were out of the forest and on a main road that I finally allowed myself to think about all that happened tonight. The more I thought about what Scott had done, the more upset I got. And I was disgusted at myself for enjoying it. I would have to deal with Scott eventually. I hated confrontation, but he couldn’t be allowed to get away with it. At least the school year was over and I wouldn’t have to face any of those people for a couple of months.
But all of my anger toward Scott and embarrassment at my own behavior were overshadowed by the conversation with Kaidan. Just thinking about it made my heart race all over again. I couldn’t believe it. He was really like me. Which was what, exactly? He knew, of course. I wished I could have talked with him longer. I wondered how I could get hold of him.
I supposed I could attach my phone number to a pair of my undies and throw them onstage at his next show. The thought actually made me laugh out loud. He’d probably take one look at the white cotton panties and chuck them in the trash.
Jay stirred. He tried to say something, but it came out in one big slur.
“What, Jay?” I used my soothing voice.
“Gonna be sick!”
Oh! I pulled the car over and leaned over Jay to fling open his door, which stuck, as always. I got it open just in time.
We had to stop once more after that. Poor Jay. I rubbed his back as he closed the door and leaned against it. There wasn’t much else I could do. He began whimpering as we pulled into his neighborhood.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I don’t wanna be like Grampa Len.” His whimper turned to a pained moan.
“Who? What do you mean?”
He didn’t say anything else coherent after that. Jana stood by the curb with her arms crossed, ticked. I’d hate to be Jay tomorrow, for more reasons than one. Jana was hard-core goth and didn’t take any crap.
She and I got him flopped onto his bed without waking his parents, and then Jana drove me home.
“What in the world possessed him to get so hammered?” she asked me.
“The party was a little overwhelming.”
“Wait, was this the one out at the lake? Even I heard about that party tonight. Must have been insane.”
“It was crazy.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“Who’s Grandpa Len?” I asked.
“Huh? Oh, he mentioned him? Yeah, that’s our mom’s dad. He was this raging alcoholic. To hear Mom tell it, though, he was the nicest guy sober. She was crazy about him. Everyone was. Then he would drink and it was like he had this evil twin. He hurt a lot of people. He battled his share of demons and eventually lost.”
CHAPTER SIX
OUT OF THE DARK DAYS
It was already muggy and hot on our balcony at nine the next morning as I took a sip of my cocoa. There was no breeze, and the smell of cow manure wafted from a nearby pasture. Patti came out with her coffee and sniffed, crinkling her nose. She opened her paper and I opened my book. I couldn’t concentrate. Too much had happened at the party last night.
I didn’t like thinking about the day of my birth, partly because it was unnatural to be able to remember that far back, and partly because I couldn’t make sense of it. I didn’t know how it should make me feel, and I didn’t want to feel the wrong thing, if that were even possible. But now that Kaidan had picked that scab, it was bleeding and needed tending.
I called the time before my birth the “dark days.” Not because they were bad, but because being in utero was dark. It was like being cradled in a warm hammock at night. What I remembered most was the sound of my mother’s voice. She was singing the first time I was able to hear the warbled sounds. When I thought to try out my limbs, pushing out to meet the firm, smooth resistance surrounding me, she’d push back and laugh, which bounced me. Jonathan LaGray’s voice had been there during my dark days, too, booming gravelly and gruff.
Being born was disorienting—too bright and too cold—but worst of all had been the feeling of having lost some sort of knowledge that had been commonplace during my dark days.
I couldn’t see well with my filmy infant vision, but I remember the impact of the man’s eyes as they bore down on me that day. They were filled with some of the knowledge that I now lacked.
Just say no to drugs, will ya, kid?
I never knew whether the gruff man’s message to me had been serious or sarcastic. I’d never seen him again.
I could still recall the nun, a wrinkled old woman who emitted a pure lavender peace. And Patti, standing over me with her hair falling around her face the day she came to get me. She nearly exploded with love when they placed me in her outstretched hands, as if I were a fragile gift.
That was the only part of the memory I understood, and could therefore cherish freely: the moment I met Patti.
I watched her now as she turned the page of the newspaper and hummed to herself. A train passed by on the hill through a scattering of pine trees.
“I met someone who’s like me,” I said. The train blew its whistle.
The newspaper slipped from Patti’s hands and fell to the floor in a crinkly swoosh. I was taken aback by the black storm cloud of emotion that billowed around her.
“Patti?” I whispered.
