CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cal
I don’t know what got into Aspen today, but I have to say, being on her side of things and watching her unleash on someone other than me was entertaining. She’s been nice to me the past few days, and honestly, I was starting to miss her smart mouth. The headmistress was obviously flirting with me, and the way she kept touching me and giving me all her attention was making me very uncomfortable. Something about Aspen’s protectiveness, made me feel a way I can’t describe. I’m not Tuck’s father, but even if I were, Ms. Kadence should have been addressing both of us. Aspen doesn’t mask her emotions very well, and I could tell she was upset about being disregarded, so by the time we were on the playground, I was already about to call the tour off before she stepped in.
The laughter in the truck was contagious, pulling her out of her foul mood; it was good to finally see her laugh. I turn on the radio low enough where we can talk and hear each other over the music. Bruno Mars “That’s What I Like” plays through the Bose speakers as we drive down the highway to the next school.
“Ooh, this slaps! Can you turn it up?” Tuck asks. I reach over and turn up the volume.
Tuck begins singing, so I join him. Before I know it, we’re all singing at the top of our lungs. From the rearview mirror, I see Tucker bobbing his head as he sings out loud. Aspen and I look at each other singing the chorus in unison, shaking her shoulders, pointing to me then herself.
She tilts her head back and belts out the bridge of the song. With the music playing, I can barely hear her. I back off singing, so I can hear her voice better. Knowing it’s a dick move, but doing it anyway, when the bridge hits the high note, I press the mute button on my steering wheel. What? Don’t judge me. I want to hear her sing. I catch two words before she stops abruptly: like a record scratching. Her eyes widen in embarrassment. She covers her face. Tuck snickers from the back seat. She turns to me and smacks me on the arm, then turns the radio back on. “Ass!” Aspen mouths, so Tucker can’t hear her, coaxing a chuckle from my lips.
When we pull into the parking lot, I face her, putting on my most serious face. We lock eyes. “Okay, Firecracker. I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior in here.”
A laugh spills out of her. “Hey! She was being highly unprofessional.”
“That, she was.” I shake my head.
When I look up at the private school through my windshield, a deep foreboding feeling settles over me. The school is two stories and made of stone with a concrete archway. It looks more like an old orphanage you would see in movies than a school. We stroll through the front door with Tuck walking between us, chatting about the robotics class at Elija’s school. The hallway is long and narrow. A glass case of student accolades resides on the left, and the main office is situated on the right. The air is cold and smothering. No sounds come from the hallways or classrooms. No laughter. No talking.
“Good morning, I’m Mrs. Winston.” The headmistress greets us and shakes our hand at the entrance to the main office. Her handshake is soft, her hand cold and unwelcoming.
“Pleasure, I’m Mr. Miles and this is Miss Taylor, and this is Tucker Taylor.”
She purses her lips and looks between Aspen and Tuck. “The pleasure is mine.” She says, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a pleasure at all.
Maybe she is one of those no-nonsense-straight-to-the-point people. She leads us on the tour of the classrooms, followed by the gym, and then the cafeteria. Where the other institution appeared to have fun activities and felt welcoming, there doesn’t seem to be anything fun about this place. This school seems uninviting. Mrs. Winston reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place it. She’s a thicker woman, her face mars fine lines, and she appears to be in her late forties, if I had to guess. Her hair is brown, peppered with streaks of gray, and is slicked back into a bun. She doesn’t seem pleasant or show any kindness towards Tuck. Actually, when he speaks, she seems put out. Once we are done with the tour, Aspen begins to ask questions.
Tuck turns to me and gestures for me to bend down. He whispers in my ear. “I’ve been looking for the chokey around every corner.” He wraps one hand around his neck like he’s choking himself. I frown at first, not understanding what he’s talking about, but then remember he and Elija were watching the movie Matilda in the game room a couple of weeks ago. They roped me into watching the last half of it before we went skating. It’s then I realize that’s who this lady reminds me of. Mrs. Winston gives us a stern look when we begin to snicker.
“Do you have a PTA or PTO?” Aspen asks curiously.
“Yes. However, there is an impressive age gap between you and the other parents, so I am uncertain to how much you will have in common with them.”
“Excuse me?” I frown. “Can you explain to me what you just said to her?”
She is hesitant at first then she addresses me with directness. “Mr. Miles. You cannot fault me. The PTA acts as a liaison between the teacher, parents and community. Miss Taylor is young, and her lack of experience will most certainly cause a discord.”
My molars creak and I’m sure I just cracked one of my teeth with how hard my jaw is grinding. My vision darkens. As anger consumes me but I take a deep breath to reel it in.I don’t know why her words are affecting me so strongly. All I know is, I’m not giving this woman isn’t getting a second chance to offend Aspen, especially in front of Tuck. We’re done here.
“Aspen here are my keys, take Tuck to the truck, please. I would like to have a word with Ms. Trunchbull.”
Tuck snickers at the Matilda reference; though I’m sure he doesn’t understand the back handed comment this lady just made to his mother. It’s taking all my self-control to reign in my anger and not lose my shit in front of him.
“It’s fine, Cal. I’m used to it.” Aspen retorts.
It’s not fine. It shouldn’t be fine. Right now, I don’t want her on her best behavior. I want her to stand up for herself. The Aspen I know isn’t apprehensive when it comes to releasing her quick wit and smart-ass mouth. I’m sure she is used to the condescending comments from other people because she was a teen mom at one time. I’m also sure it’s probably an insecurity for her—she feels self-conscious about it.
Dangling my keys in front of her face, I say, “Truck. Now. Please.” She rolls her eyes and snatches the keys from my fingers.
“Come on, Buddy.” Aspen puts a hand on Tuck’s shoulder and guides him away.
“Thank God. I don’t like this place. It was giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Tuck says mirroring my thoughts.
I watch them walk down the hallway to make sure they’re both out of earshot before I speak. “I don’t need to explain anything to you, but your comment was asinine.” My jaw ticks. “I want you to understand your mistake so you can absolve yourself from making it again in the future. That woman you just spoke down to for being a young mother, is the sole owner of a multi-billion-dollar empire.She runs that organization like a tight ship, and very successfully, I might add. With a mere phone call, she can add this institution to her investment portfolio and fire your ass. So maybe you should think twice before you make the wrong assumption about someone.”I raise an eyebrow.
She nods. “My apologies, Mr. Miles.”
“I’m sure it goes without saying, but Tucker will not be attending this school.” I turn around and make my way through the corridor and out to the truck.
Once I’m in the truck I turn in my seat to face Aspen. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smiles.
“You okay?”
She sighs and plays with one of her pearl earrings. “I’m good. Listen, what I told you the other night . . .” She turns in the seat to face me and begins intertwining her fingers nervously, “I didn’t tell you that so you would feel sorry for me. I told you so you would understand my boundaries. I saw a different side of you, and it made me feel safe in sharing. But I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or feel the need to protect me every time someone makes a backhanded comment about my age. I’m not a teenager anymore, and I’ve made peace with that judgment.” Her green eyes collide with mine.
I reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t feel sorry for you, but you can’t ask me to stand by and let someone talk to you that way, especially in front of Tuck. Now, you ready? I think we have one more stop.”
“These are the only two appointments I had scheduled for today.” She turns in her seat to address Tuck in the back. “You good, Buddy?”
“I’m happy as a tick on a fat dog if I don’t have to go to that place.”
The things that come out of this kid’s mouth . . . I shake my head and wheeze a laugh. I don’t think I have ever laughed as much in my life as I have with these two. We pull out onto the road. I call Ivan to find out where Elija goes to school, then I call the school and am relieved they can fit us in immediately.
We take the tour of Elija’s school. It’s . . . normal. Thank fuck. We meet several teachers who seem to be friendly. A sense of relief fills me knowing Tuck will be okay; that he will thrive here. We have him enrolled within an hour and are out the door and on our way to lunch.
During lunch, Aspen told me she and Tuck had never been to Central Park and asked if we could go. I can’t tell her no, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. As we walk around the park mindlessly, we come to the entrance of Bethesda Fountain. Aspen reaches into her purse and pulls out all of her change. She hands a few coins to Tuck, then takes my hand and dumps a few into my palm. Her eyes slowly move up to mine. My heart races at her touch.
“What are we doing?” I ask her.
“Making wishes. What does it look like?” She eyes me curiously before coasting her way to the fountain.
We close the distance to the fountain and stand in front of the angel. With her eyes shut for a few long moments, Aspen’s head tilts up toward the sky. A smile plays on her lips as she mouths her wishes wordlessly, then she tosses her coins into the fountain. Tuck does the same, so I guess it’s my turn.
I’m not really sure what to wish for. I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know if I even believe in wishes coming true. Playing along to make them happy, and on the off chance that something will come of it, I make several wishes, then toss my coins in with theirs. Aspen gives me a bright smile.
She is the definition of joy. I know all too well how mad she can become and how mouthy she can be, but she doesn’t seem to let her anger simmer too long. Well, unless you were Callan Miles pre our heart-to-heart discussion. I guess I just knew what buttons to push. What I’ve noticed is even then, nothing—not past, present, or possible outcomes of the future—stands in the way of her happiness. She has every right to be mad at God or the universe, but she’s not. I admire her for that. I crave her joy. I don’t want to be broken anymore. I don’t want to feel like waking up every day is a chore. I want to be more like her . . . resilient.
“This is beautiful,” she whispers, staring at the fountain.
I cast my eyes on her profile, and for the first time she takes my breath away. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but with a broad smile on her lips and the way her hair and skin glow from the sun, making her look like an angel, in this moment she is truly breathtaking. I want to touch her so badly, but we’re friends, and that’s all we can ever be. So, like I did the night we were lying under the sky in her backyard, I let my pinky slightly graze her hand—just to get a fix. You can call me a coward for the not-so-accidental touches, but I don’t care. The need to touch her in some way consumes me.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, not taking my eyes off her. She turns to face me, her beautiful green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She has a graceful smile, and I can’t help but smile back.
Tuck bumps into us while chasing pigeons just as I ask her, “What did you wish for?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but Aspen covers his mouth with her hand to stop him from talking. Giggling, she says, “You can’t say! It won’t come true!” She ruffles his head, then turns towards the entrance of the fountain, ready to leave.
People are standing still as statues in various places while music begins to play. Suddenly group of people begins to dance. She spins around in a circle watching all of them dance to a mix of pop songs.
“What is this?” She yells over the music.
“It’s a flash mob.” I yell back. She and Tuck turn their heads, watching and laughing over the music. I swear it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard. A woman and young boy stand in the middle of the dancers. In front of her is a man down on one knee. I don’t miss the longing on Aspen’s face as the man proposes to the woman. She watches with a sweet smile on her face. The woman nods her head and throws her arms around the man. When the music stops and everyone begins to walk away, going about their lives like they didn’t just put on an incredible performance, we stroll out of the fountain area.
“That was amazing!” She beams.
We make our way through The Mall and Literary Walk, and then we take Tuck to sail remote control model sailboats. After two rides on the carousel, everything starts to shut down. One of the things I learned about Aspen today is that she likes a little spontaneity. We spent the entire day together laughing and enjoying each other’s company. For the first time in four years, I lived.