Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Henry
May 17th, 1997
My house is dark and silent as we enter, save for the one floorboard by the entrance that squeaks every time you step on it. Dad always promised to replace it, and though I certainly could figure out how, doing so now feels like erasing part of his memory. I leave it so he has something to come back to, despite knowing how insane that sounds.
Moonlight filters in through the wide bay windows around our breakfast nook. They overlook a hundred acres of farmland that hasn’t been used since the owner got too old to care for cattle. Every morning, Abel Johnson sits out on his front porch and watches the sun rise over his land. Some mornings when I’ve got extra time before school, I sit at the table and watch him. It’s a tradition he doesn’t even know he’s a part of, but it brings me comfort all the same.
“There’s a beer or two in the fridge.” I nod toward the yellowing refrigerator littered with magnets from all the casinos my parents used to frequent. The thing looks like a dated advertisement for Biloxi at this point. “Help yourself. ”
Kimberly’s heels click in a harsh staccato. Her dress swishes around her legs, revealing flashes of creamy skin with every step she takes. She opens the fridge and glances back at me, her face a half-moon in the glow of the small lightbulb. “You want one, too?”
First I wore my dad’s shoes while smoking a cigarette. Now I’m adding underage drinking to the list. And it’s his leftover beer, no less.
I slip the oxfords off, hoping it will reduce the guilt when I say, “Sure.”
A groan vibrates her full lips. “Ugh, good idea.” She carries two cans over and passes me one before taking a seat on the bench and popping one delicate foot in the air. “Could you help? These heels are absolutely killing me.”
“Um, yeah. I can do that.” I set my beer on the table and kneel. When I take her foot in my hand and rest it on my knee, I’m struck by how soft and warm her skin is. It ignites something in me, a desire I’ve only felt once before, outside the confines of my bedroom at least.
The straps are intricate and a bit confusing. With a little instruction from Kimberly, though, I manage to free one foot and then the other. “There you go.”
She smiles. “My hero.”
For some reason those words make my chest tight. I’m still kneeling in front of her. My gaze travels the long, smooth path of her muscular leg from the foot I’m holding to the place where the slit in her dress parts midthigh. I blink slowly. My dick hardens against my fly. It feels wrong to think of anyone else this way when Lucy’s all I’ve ever wanted. But Lucy’s not here. And when I finally tear my gaze from the swell of her thigh, Kimberly’s looking at me through lowered lashes.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. She removes her foot from my grasp and pushes it against my chest, rocking my balance. “You gonna stay down there all night?”
I swallow hard. “Right. Sorry.”
She giggles softly. I stand and take the seat opposite her. When I don’t immediately reach for my beer, she pops the tab on it with her long, painted fingernails and passes it back, then does the same to her own. We each take a sip. It’s the only sound in the room aside from the miscellaneous creaks and groans of the house. I pray she doesn’t notice me wincing in response to the bitter taste. Or that I’m shifting uncomfortably in my seat, willing my boner to go down.
“Will your parents be gone all night?”
I nod. “My mom works late.” The diner stays open into the early morning hours after prom to give kids a safe place to go for a late-night snack. She volunteered for the shift once I agreed to go to the dance. Briefly I wonder if she’ll notice my absence from the post-prom crowd. Knowing her attention to my comings and goings as of late, I doubt it.
“And your dad?”
I let my gaze drift toward the window. “He passed away in January.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, Henry.”
It’s been months, and I still don’t know how to respond to that. Instinctually I want to say, It's okay, but it’s not. Thank you also feels weird. I’m sorry, too is the most accurate, but it tends to bring the mood down. I settle for flattening my lips and nodding, a half-assed grunt rattling my throat.
Kimberly taps a nail against the aluminum can of beer. I get the sense that she’s not comfortable with the direction this conversation has taken. She won’t be still, and she makes a low humming noise to fill the silence that’s settled between us.
“How’s the beer?” It’s the best lifeline I can offer.
Her nose wrinkles. “A little flat. ”
I snort, and she tilts her head, one eyebrow quirked. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” I murmur. I highly doubt she’d enjoy knowing it’s my dead father’s beer that’s been sitting in our fridge, untouched, for months. Neither myself nor Mom could bring ourselves to throw it out.
Her foot brushes against mine beneath the table. At first I assume it’s on accident. But then it happens again. The third time, she rubs higher up my calf in a slow stroke. Our eyes meet and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Wanna give me the tour?”
“Um, sure.”
I stand, and she does, too. She takes my hand in hers, our palms slick with condensation from the cold beer cans. It doesn’t take more than a few steps toward the living room for them to grow warm again.
“Mom’s room is there.” We stand in the awkward liminal space between the kitchen and the living room, and I point to the closed door beside the couch. “Mine is this way.” We turn and walk down the hall, passing the only bathroom in the house on the left before coming to my door.
Kimberly juts her chin toward the door opposite mine, which sits partially ajar. “What’s that?”
“A guest bedroom-slash-junk room kind of thing? Mom has a sewing machine and she used to make clothes in there, but she doesn’t do that much anymore.”
Doesn’t have the time to, if I’m being honest. I think of the antique Singer sitting there, gathering dust, and my heart seizes.
“Shame,” Kimberly hums. She turns back to my door and grabs the knob. “So what should I expect? A bunch of nudie posters?”
My dick twitches. “No.”
She smirks. “Uh-huh, sure.”
The hinges whine as she pushes inside. I flick on the light, and we glance around simultaneously. I try to see it through her eyes, as someone who hasn’t slept in this room their whole life. There’s a window by the bed that I keep open at night to let the sound of wind through the live oaks filter in. My bedspread is a plain blue quilt Mom made for me years ago. There’s a guitar in the corner. It’s a little beat up, since I bought it used at the thrift store in town, but it’s functional. My songbook lies open on the desk in front of us. I reach for it, but Kimberly’s closer. She snaps it up in one smooth motion and spins away from my outstretched arm.
“ ‘Wish I could forget your long blonde hair. Wish I could do anything but care. If it were up to me, baby, we could go anywhere. As long as we go together.’ “ She pats the gathering of hair on her crown. “It’s like you knew I was coming, Henry!” She flops back onto my bed, her dress pooling on either side of her legs. “What is this?”
I flush crimson. “It’s nothing.” I pluck it from her hands and close the notebook, returning it to my desk.
Her hazel gaze drifts to the guitar. “Oh, you’re a musician! Those are songs? And here I thought you were a wannabe e. e. cummings.”
She stretches her arms up and folds them beneath her head. Something about the expanse of skin the movement exposes—the swath of cream from her elbow to her underarm—helps me ignore the disbelief in her tone. I shrug out of my jacket and drape it across the wooden poster of my bed. When I stretch out beside her, the mattress sags, folding our bodies close enough that our sides touch.
“Poetry and music aren’t all that different.”
“Except people call cummings a literary master. No one says that about the Spice Girls.” She laughs. “But it’s a cute hobby, anyway. Not like you’re trying to make a career out of it or anything. ”
I rub at my chest, working out the sting that forms there in response to her comment. “Yeah. You’re right.”
She rolls in toward me, propping herself up on an elbow. Tendrils of blonde hair are falling from her butterfly clips. Without thinking, I reach for one and brush it behind her ear. Her lips part, a small breath escaping. It smells like the beer we drank mixed with cherry lip gloss. An unpleasant scent, if it weren’t accompanied by the sensation of her body aligning with mine. The swell of her breasts presses against my ribs. Her soft belly brushes my side. Gentle fingers caress my cheek. Then my neck.
Everywhere they touch, goose bumps erupt. My dick aches. For her, I realize. And it may be insane, but it’s the best realization in the world. To be this completely enraptured by someone other than Lucy. To forget about her long enough to want someone else.
“Are you a virgin, Henry?” Her eyes are on my lips as she asks the question. Before I can answer, she closes the short distance between our mouths. Her lips slant over mine. Gentle. Exploratory. When she pulls away just enough to meet my gaze, her pupils are blown.
I debate lying. I’m not exactly eager for another dig akin to the one about my cute hobby. But if this goes anywhere, she’ll find me out quickly. Better to be honest up front.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. I take advantage of her attention on my words and try to adjust myself. “Are you?”
Her hand settles over mine where I was moving my dick to my waistband. And squeezes.
“No.” Her lips curve. “Do you want to still be a virgin when you graduate?”
To be honest, I haven't had a lot of time to think about it the last few months. But now that she’s mentioning it? “Not really.”
She’s giggling as our mouths crash into one another. She finds the button of my shirt and tugs. One after another, they come loose, until the last is pulled free and my heart leaps into my chest.
“Idon’thaveacondom,” I murmur in a rushed breath.
“I’m on the pill.” She kisses my throat. “It’ll be fine.”
Our clothes are lost in a flurry of movement. Skin brushes naked skin, cool at first and then so, so hot. I melt into it. Into her. There are teeth and gasping breaths and the salt of another person’s sweat on my tongue for the very first time. I break loose, and she does, too. Through it all, our limbs remain tightly woven. For the first time in months, I don’t feel alone.
And then I’m not a virgin anymore. And the world feels a little bit more tolerable, more kind, at least for tonight.
“How’s that for fun?” Kimberly mumbles into my neck, when at last our pulses return to some new version of normal.
“Incredible.” It’s all I can say. All I can think. Incredible, incredible, incredible.
“I won’t be back in town till the end of summer when I pass through on my way to college.” Kimberly has one hand on my truck’s door handle and another on my thigh. We’re at the diner, where Talia is supposed to be waiting. That was their plan, apparently. Talia would find someone—in this case, Jed—to spend her evening with, and then she’d get whomever it was to bring her here. Kimberly could do whatever she wanted—in this case, me—as long as she met Talia there after.
I can see my mom serving milkshakes to a table of my classmates. She looks so tired, with prominent bags under her eyes that are visible even from where I’m parked outside the entrance. I can’t wait to graduate and be able to work full-time, if nothing more than to be able to provide for her so she can drop a few shifts. She works so hard, lately she’s been forgetting simple things. Like the day the water bill is due or where exactly to mail the check. I’ve taken over nearly all bill payment for her since Dad died, just so I don’t have to see her struggle to remember.
“Hello? Earth to Henry!”
I tear my gaze away from my mother. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I said you can write to me. If you’d like.” She opens my glove compartment and digs through its contents. She finds a receipt and a pen. “Or call.”
“I’d like that,” I say, though the words feel like peanut butter in my mouth. My gaze is locked on the man stepping out of the diner, into the cool night air.
Waylon holds open the door, and before I can look away, I see Lucy slip under the bridge of his outstretched arm. Our eyes meet, then hers cut to where Kimberly sits in my passenger seat. I don’t miss the flash of pain mottling her beautiful features. Or the way she stiffens at Waylon’s touch when he drapes an arm over her shoulders. They amble past my truck. Waylon’s voice hums outside my window. I want to jump out of this truck and go after them. Tear his arm off her. It’s such a violent desire that I have to suck in a breath through my nose and release it.
I’m not like this. I’m not like him.
I glance over at Kimberly, who’s finished scribbling her information on the receipt and holds it out for me. The moment I take it from her, I realize that actually I’m exactly like Waylon. No better than the version of him who took advantage of girls beneath the bleachers. Because there’s no way I can call Kimberly. Or write to her. Not when I feel like this for someone else. Shame coats my throat as I tuck the receipt into my pocket. It makes it hard to swallow. Hard to breathe .
“Thanks again for such a fun night,” she singsongs. Her lips smack against mine, leaving residue from her fresh coat of lip gloss behind. She winks. “Congrats on losing your virginity!”
She slips from the truck and bounds into the restaurant with more enthusiasm than I’d think those shoes would allow. Talia rises from a booth in the corner when her cousin enters, and they embrace as the man opposite her turns to glance out the window.
Jed and I lock gazes. His eyes widen for a second before his lips stretch into a wide grin and he offers me a thumbs-up. I don’t return it. I can’t. I throw the truck into reverse and back out of the space, leaving my friend with a puzzled look on his face and my stomach in such intricate knots I could probably get a badge from the Boy Scouts for weaving them.
June 10th, 1997
“Whoever decided graduation should be held outdoors in the middle of June can kick rocks,” Derell grumbles.
Jed, who has sweat pouring down his face in thick rivulets, groans in agreement.
“I’m just ready to get this over with.” I swipe at my brow. My gaze travels over the sea of navy-blue graduation gowns, then the crowd of families in the bleachers beyond. I find Mom alone on the very top bleacher, fanning herself with the graduation program, and my stomach drops.
I imagined this day so differently. Dad could make anything a sporting event, no matter how tame. He reined it in for church, but the few band concerts I participated in before dropping the extracurricular to focus more on my own music? He showed up with foam fingers for him and Mom, wearing a T-shirt that had Band Dad emblazoned across the chest. One time he even brought a foghorn, but the band director put a stop to that.
Seeing Mom sitting all alone, no foam finger in sight, is truly sobering. It’s the first of many milestones Dad won’t be around to see, and that more than anything makes my lungs squeeze and my eyes burn. I want to fix this pain for both of us, but I don’t know how. I’m doing my best, and it doesn’t even put a dent in the grief. Hers or mine.
“You okay, man?” Derell follows my line of sight, and his gaze softens. He leaves for college in a couple months. He’ll come home sometimes for a weekend here or there, but the man is a genius studying to be an engineer. He’ll get a job that takes him far away from this town. It’s another ending. Harder in its own way, because I can see it coming.
I swallow. “Yeah. I will be, anyway.”
“So will I,” Jed sighs, “’cause here comes Talia.”
I turn just as Talia elbows past a group of football players who each let out whoops as she passes. I cringe on her behalf. The guys are no better than cavemen, and only slightly worse than Jed. “Maybe stop drooling, dude.”
He hasn’t gotten over prom night, though until now we definitely thought Talia had. We all kept our secrets about that night, but one thing was clear: Jed was on cloud nine the following Monday in class. And Talia hasn’t talked to him since.
It’s weird seeing her without her signature purple lipstick. Her makeup is simple, all pale pinks and soft golds. She’s wearing pearl earrings that remind me of my mother’s favorite pair. I’m so distracted by them that for a moment I miss the fury on her face. Until she’s staring up at me, green eyes blazing, with the collar of my dress shirt clenched in her fist.
“Talia, what the—” Jed starts.
“We need to talk, Henry.” Her voice is a snapping leather belt. I’m almost certain it’ll leave a mark .
My heart surges into my throat. Did Kimberly tell her about us? Would she do that?
Who am I kidding? Of course she would. It’s her fucking cousin, for crying out loud.
I suck in a breath and nod to my friends. Talia’s hand drops from my collar and seizes my bicep. She drags me toward the gap between the concessions building and the bathrooms with a surprisingly strong grip. By the time we reach a secluded-enough spot, I’m dripping sweat that has nothing to do with the heat.
“Look, Talia, whatever you heard…”
“Whatever I heard?” she grits out. “Are you an idiot, Henry?”
I balk. “Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t called her, but life’s been so busy and?—”
“Shut up. Right now.” She wags a finger at me. Despite her size, it has the desired effect. I’m both intimidated and silent. “I know you’ve had a rough year, Ridgefield, but I can’t believe you’d be so stupid. So careless. So?—”
“I didn’t plan for it, Talia,” I interject. “It’s not like I was looking for someone to sleep with. It just happened.” Surely she knows that?
“Clearly you planned nothing out.”
I blink down at her, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s pregnant, Henry.” Her voice is low and tight. “Too grief-stricken to use a condom, huh?”
Behind us, Principal Tiefermann calls for us to get in line. Our classmates cheer now that things are finally getting underway, bringing us one step closer to getting out of this heat. But I barely register any of it. I barely register Talia, glaring up at me with her jaw clenched, cheeks blazing red. It all falls away to the rush of blood leaving my head, draining all the way to my feet.
“Wh-what?” I stammer. “She said she was on the pill.”
“Sometimes the pill fails.” She shakes her head. “And then you didn’t even have the decency to call her, so she had to use me as a messenger. You messed up. Badly.”
My throat is so dry I’m not sure the next words are going to make it out, but I try. “What—” I swallow. Try again. “What do I do?”
Her gaze softens at the edges, but only slightly. Still, it’s more than I deserve. “I don’t know. But you better figure it out. And fast.” She licks her lips. “Call her, Henry. She’s really scared.”
I nod, unable to find words.
“You do have her number, right?”
My voice scrapes like sandpaper. “I do.”
“Good. You can still make this right, okay? But you’ve gotta man the fuck up. Big-time.” She holds my gaze, making sure I’m absorbing her words. Satisfied, she glances past me to our classmates. “Let’s go before they graduate without us. Can’t raise a baby with no degree.”
She shoves past me. I turn to watch her stride over to the lineup, where my friends stand staring at me with puzzled looks. I know I should move but I can’t. I’ve lost all feeling. I’m completely numb aside from the roaring fear burning in my mind, telling me I’ve ruined not one life but two.
My gaze lifts to my mother. Her hand is flattened over her heart as she cranes her neck, trying to spot me in the line of students pouring out onto the field. My feet are rooted to the ground as I watch the last piece of the life I thought I’d have slip away. Somewhere, states away, I imagine Kimberly doing the same thing. The guilt is white-hot and crushing, and so much more than I can bear.
Lucy’s blonde hair flashes past, catching my eye. I watch her step from the paved track to the grass of the football field. From an old life into the new. She glances over her shoulder, and I hold her gaze for only a second. It’s the last thing I take for myself.
The last thing I’ll ever take for myself, because from now on, it can no longer be about me. It’s about Kimberly. And our baby. Our baby. My heartbeat stumbles over itself. I’m going to be a father.
I eventually make it onto the field, but not before emptying my breakfast into a nearby bin.