Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Henry
May 17th, 1997
Months pass like scenes on a movie reel. Shadows of the world unfolding on the screen. I become something of a silhouette in my daily life. Still taking up space, but I’m empty inside.
I go to school. Get good enough grades for Mom not to worry. Not that she’s checking. Saturdays and Sundays are filled with shifts at the factory where my dad worked, scraping in extra cash to help Mom with the bills. She picks up a job waitressing at the local diner. We remain in constant motion, never slowing enough for the grief to catch us. On the rare occasion we’re both home, we’re less like a family and more like two ghosts haunting the same old house. Neither of us know how to move on.
I start to forget the way football games filled our home with background noise on the weekends. The sound of my father’s larger-than-life sneezes. The sight of the two of them dancing in the living room while Etta James crooned through the boom box speakers. At some point I even forget exactly which song has the skip in it, the result of a small scratch on the CD—my fault from dropping it a few years back .
The idea of running off to Nashville falls by the wayside. Instead I’ll go full-time at the factory after I graduate next month. Save up some money. Make sure Mom’s all right. Then, in a few years, I can follow my dreams. It’s just a pit stop, not a complete derailment. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Part of me wants to ask Lucy to wait for me. A bigger part insists I have no right.
We stop going to church. Mom, because she can’t walk into that sanctuary without seeing Dad’s casket at the base of the stage steps. Me, because I can’t be near Lucy without wanting to hold her. Touch her. Make music with her. Passing her in the hallway is miserable enough. I can’t sit through two hours of her dad’s rambling sermons while feeling her presence like a heartbeat outside my body three pews ahead.
It’s a season of wanting everything I can’t have, and despising everything that I do.
Derell and Jed do their best to support me. They still invite me out every Friday, despite the fact that I haven’t stepped foot in that field since that night. They try. Really, they do. But I feel too far gone to be reached. Come fall, Derell will be off to the University of Alabama and Jed will leave to work on an oil rig offshore. Their lives will move forward, while mine feels impossibly stuck.
Just a pit stop, not a derailment, I remind myself. But the words feel hollow.
Perhaps it’s the thought of them leaving, the realization that the last few pieces of my life that remain unchanged are about to morph into something I don’t recognize, that convinces me to let my friends drag me to prom. It certainly wasn’t the thought of seeing Lucy, even from a distance, dressed in a beautiful gown. I’m no masochist.
My gaze flits past face after face in the gymnasium, but none of them are hers. Disappointment settles like a stone in my gut .
Okay, so I’m a little bit of a masochist.
Jed elbows me in the ribs. “Dude, look at Talia.”
I halt my search of the room and follow his gaze. Through the mess of writhing bodies, I spot Talia Winters doing a shimmy against one of her friends. Her lashes are lowered, purple pout perfectly in place. She points to Jed, then does a come-hither curl of her finger.
“Is this really happening?” Jed tugs at the stiff collar of his button-down.
Derell lets out a sharp whistle from my other side. “I don’t fucking believe it. But yes, I think it is. Go get ’em, Tiger!”
I chuckle. It’s a loose, breathy thing. I could blame it on a lack of practice and a parched throat. More likely it’s the result of spotting Lucy the second she walks through the gymnasium doors, looking like a dream.
Her dress is made of dark blue velvet that drapes over the swells and valleys of her body like flowing water. It ties at the nape of her neck, covering her chest in a modest way that I’m sure the pastor approves of, but her delicate shoulders are exposed. I’ve never gotten hard at the sight of shoulders before, but suddenly all those dress code rules make a little more sense.
Golden strands fall in soft curls around her heart-shaped face. The rest of her hair is swept up high on her head, with small bits and bobs pinned throughout that twinkle in the flashing lights. A thin shawl comes around her shoulders, placed by familiar hands.
Attached to a familiar body.
Belonging to a familiar face.
Jed finally snaps out of whatever trance he was in, abandoning us for the possibility of a post-prom blow job from Talia. I grind down on my molars.
“Who is that?” Derell throws a half-hearted punch against my bicep, as though I’m not already locked in on the scene unfolding fifteen feet away. “He looks too old to be at prom, right? ”
Waylon Parker squeezes Lucy’s now-covered shoulders. He leans in to whisper something in her ear. Her lips pinch together and she nods. When he walks away, bound for the table of snacks and punch on the far side of the basketball court, I swear she looses a breath. That shawl drops from her shoulders ever so slightly.
“Definitely too old,” Derell says, confirming his own statement. “The guy’s, like, twenty-two or something.”
“Twenty-three.” My fists clench and release at my sides. I’ll never understand how her dad could have a problem with me, but he’ll send her off with someone like Waylon without an issue. There’s no way he’s changed all that much in the short time since he was a student here. Does the pastor truly believe Waylon’s wannabe pious persona? Kissing ass must really work wonders.
Anger and hurt tighten my sternum. I suck in a breath to loosen it, but it’s no use. My lungs don’t want the air. They just want her.
Her honeysuckle scent. Her sweet breath flowing over my lips. The feel of her body crushed against mine behind the oak tree. Even though it was the worst day of my life, it’s a sacred memory. Maybe especially so, for that exact reason.
“What happened with you two?” Derell’s eyebrows rise, his dark eyes locking with mine. “You seemed to be getting cozy leading up to that night when your dad…” His voice trails off, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing beneath tawny skin as he swallows. “Well, you know.”
I shake my head, letting my gaze fall away from his. “Nothing happened.”
Lucy’s eyes find mine in the crowd. Her lips part, and I imagine the sharp intake of her breath. Not unlike the one when our mouths collided in the cab of my truck. The shawl drops farther, and I notice a dark birthmark in the hollow where her right collarbone meets the shoulder. I wet my lips. Watch her track the movement. Just as she takes a step forward, Waylon returns with two glasses of punch in hand, a lazy smile pulling at one side of his mouth.
His gaze follows hers, brow furrowed, until at last landing on me. That smile becomes a scowl. He passes one cup to her, then uses his free arm to take her other hand, guiding her into the crowd and away from me.
“Nothing will ever happen,” I add.
Derell glances between me and the place where Waylon and Lucy disappeared, lips folded into a flat line. I suck in a breath like it’s the last one I’ll get.
“Is there any place to get a drink around here?”
“Excuse me? Like alcohol? ” Derell’s eyes widen. “You. Drinking? ” He licks a finger and holds it up in the air. “No, it doesn’t feel like this hellhole has frozen over. What gives?”
I shake my head. “I just want a drink. You drink all the time, dude.”
“Yeah, but you don’t. That’s, like, one of the few constants in our lives. Tractors will always end up in front of you when you’re in a hurry, and Henry doesn’t drink.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll find it myself.”
I stalk toward the back set of doors, opposite the way Lucy came in. Derell stays behind. I only glance back once, but even in the sporadic light cast by flashing strobes, I can read the disappointment written plainly on his face. Who is he to judge? I pass a tangle of bodies that turns out to be Jed and Talia locked in a make-out inferno. My friend glances up when I brush against his back. Purple lipstick is smeared on his crooked teeth. His gaze narrows on me briefly before a hand sporting long, sparkly nails comes around his neck and pulls him back into his waking wet dream .
Damp evening air blasts me in the face, cool by comparison to the sweaty cluster of bodies I escaped. The gym doors clang shut behind me, trapping the roar of music and conversation inside. It’s so painfully quiet that my ears ring, desperate to fill the void with any sound.
I sag against the metal doors, letting the facade drop for the first time all night.
“You look like you could use one of these.”
My gaze cuts to the base of the steps, where a girl I hadn’t noticed sits in the shadows. The floodlight I stand beneath doesn’t quite reach her. Even squinting, I can barely make out the orange glow of a cigarette and shimmering silver eyeshadow around kohl-smudged eyes.
“I don’t bite,” she says, lifting something from her equally sparkly purse and offering it in an outstretched hand. A pack of cigarettes moves into the circle of light. “You want one?”
Normally the answer would be, Hell no. But nothing about these last few months has been normal.
My oxfords scuff against the concrete steps. They’re a size too big since they belonged to my dad. When I take a seat beside the girl, who I realize now is blonde with wide hazel eyes and a smirk stretching her thin lips, I can’t help but wonder if Dad would approve of what I’m doing in his shoes.
“I’m Kimberly.” She smiles wider, exposing a flash of white teeth beneath shimmery red lip gloss. She passes the lit cigarette to me, which I take awkwardly between my index and middle finger, the way that I’ve seen my friends do it. “Just lit that one, so have at it. I’ll get myself another.”
“We can share,” I mumble. I don’t want to be responsible for smoking the entire thing. “And I’m Henry.”
Something sparks in her gaze, and she leans closer to me. Her lips close around the cigarette in my hand, and she draws a deep breath, then lets a spool of smoke out in front of us. My mouth covers the print of her lip gloss on the wrapper, and I mimic her movements, trying my best not to look like a total amateur. The smoke burns my throat. I sputter and cough it up in rasping, jerky breaths. Kimberly, to her credit, takes another drag without so much as a wince or snort at my reaction. I relax a little. Whether it’s because of the cigarette or her presence, I couldn’t say.
“Not having fun at prom, I take it?”
I let my gaze fully settle on her, taking in her features as she draws another breath of smoke. She’s watching me from the corner of her eye. Her blonde hair is slicked high in an arrangement not unlike Lucy’s. There are brightly colored clips gathering the strands across her crown. I squint, realizing they’re shaped like butterflies. It makes me smile for some reason. When she returns the expression, I smile wider.
I shrug. “I wasn’t.”
She exhales a cloud of smoke that blurs our view of the baseball fields, then passes the cigarette back to me. I take another drag. This time I manage to keep the coughing to a minimum. It still burns my lungs like hell.
“Me neither. Came here with my cousin, but she’s in there sucking some dude’s face off.” Her upper lip curls. “He’s not even cute.”
“Does your cousin happen to be named Talia?”
Her eyes widen as they cut to me. “You know her?”
“Yeah, that not-cute guy is my friend Jed.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “He’s in there checking something major off his high school bucket list, so try to go easy on him.”
Kimberly bites her lip, gaze flickering over my face like she’s trying to gauge how upset I am. I’m not. She wasn’t being particularly rude, just a little too honest with a stranger. But I’m the only one who gets to call my friends ugly, so of course I’m gonna stick up for the guy. I’d expect the same in return .
“I didn’t realize Talia had a cousin.” A ladybug lands on her knee, which the split of her shimmery green dress leaves bare. I brush the insect away absent-mindedly. “You’re not from here then?”
She stares at the place where the ladybug was as she speaks. “South Carolina, actually. But I’m a freshman at the University of Southern Mississippi over in Hattiesburg. My semester ended this week and my parents are finishing up some renovations on the house, so I came to see my cousin for a bit before heading home for the summer.”
“You weren’t over prom already? Being in college and all.”
“It’s always fun to wear a pretty dress.” She brushes the split open farther, exposing her long, bare legs to the cool breeze. “Even if this one is trying to give me a heatstroke.”
I fan the lapels of my tux jacket. “I get that.”
One pencil-thin eyebrow lifts. “You look handsome though.”
Heat that has nothing to do with my tux creeps up my neck. I bring the cigarette to my lips and pull. A sharp burning sensation strikes my fingertips, startling me. I drop the cigarette into my lap on instinct, then jolt to my feet and slap at my front to get it off. The butt falls to the ground, a hazy orange flame still winking up at me. Kimberly tosses her head back, laughing. I’m checking my rental tux for burn marks, which I thankfully avoided.
I sigh heavily, shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank God. My mom would’ve killed me.”
“I know this is your first time.” She’s still giggling, the words coming out like little hiccups. “But it's best practice to actually look at the cigarette before taking a drag just in case you’re getting close to the end. And maybe don’t hold it that far up either.”
“Noted.” Though I already know it will be my first and last cigarette. My mind feels loose and relaxed; all the tension from before has seeped out of me. But my lungs are tight, my throat on fire. Not worth it.
“Do you wanna take me somewhere, Henry?” Her eyes are wide and hopeful as they gaze up at me. Golden flecks in her irises reflect the limited light. They’re not striking like Lucy’s, but they’re warm.
I kick Dad’s shoes against the butt, killing the last few sparks. “Like where?”
“Somewhere we can drink?” she asks, a hopeful pitch lifting her voice.
The field flashes through my mind. It’d be empty tonight; the complete opposite of the rowdy crowd inside. There’d be no Lucy and, more importantly, no Waylon. Perfect, essentially. There’s just one problem.
Well, two problems. I can’t buy alcohol. And I don’t want to replace my last memory in that field, with Lucy pressed close to me and my friends gathered around a warm fire. The last normal moment of my life, now miraculous in its simplicity.
Kimberly rises to her feet, her nose even with my chin thanks to a pair of heels. Her head tilts, blanketing her face in moonlight. She’s pretty, I realize, with a face that’s all sloping lines and features that are wide and theatrical. She pokes her bottom lip out. “Please? Knowing Talia, she won’t be done with your friend anytime soon. I wanna have fun tonight.” In a bold move, she reaches for my hand. I twine my fingers with hers almost on instinct. I’m surprised to find it feels nice. Great, even. “Don’t you want to have fun?”
Fun feels like such a foreign concept after everything that’s happened the last few months. But I realize that tonight I do want to enjoy myself. I feel like I’ve been treading water since the day my dad died. It’d be nice to actually enjoy the swim for once.
My gaze drops to our joined hands. I try not to picture a different hand in mine, on a colder night. I want to solely live in this moment without sparing a thought for the past or future, even if only for a moment.
“Yeah. Yes.” I look up at her, catching the sunrise of her smile just as it breaks across her face. “Do you like beer?”
She gathers her dress in her other hand, which exposes her feet in those tall, tall heels. A shiver runs down my spine.
“I like anything,” she says. “Lead the way.”