Chapter 22
Biology Class
Day 48
My stomach tightened as Dax dropped into his seat next to mine. So much had happened between us in the twenty-four hours since we last sat here, and every moment pinched at my nerves. I kept my gaze locked onto Mr. Gray, my back stiff and my neck straight. Every part of my being except for my eyes focused intently on the guy sitting next to me. The way he slouched in his seat, just enough to look bored but not enough to fool me into thinking he wasn’t paying attention. After a while, Mr. Gray started a documentary about ecosystems.
Dax nudged my leg with his.
I turned and met an expression brimming with mischief.
“We could use a lookout tonight. You up for it?”
“Nope,” I whispered, turning my attention back to Mr. Gray. Hating the coldness in my voice, while at the same time hiding behind it.
There had been many emotions coursing through me last night, but the shame of my dad looking at me as if I were on a brazen path of self destruction seemed to overpower everything else. I had made it my business to never give him cause to worry about me, but all it took was one moment of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for none of that to have mattered. The worst part was, my dad hadn’t even seemed surprised. Angry, yes. Disappointed, absolutely. He acted like he had always known that this would happen–that I would do something to screw up his campaign. I had already screwed up his life by just being born, so I suppose it made sense that he was just biding his time until I repeated the offense. And yet, I hadn’t even messed up. Unless you count getting into the cart with Dax. Now my dad assumed I was about to trade in all of my plans for Dax Miller.
“That boy is trouble.”
“You’ve got plans after graduation. You’d better not do anything to screw that up.”
“He’ll be in the exact same spot in ten years. Causing trouble in or in jail somewhere. Mark my words.”
I could hardly stand the guy, but my dad refused to be convinced.
Mark and Trudy Miller lived in a nice neighborhood on the south end of the island. The house was white with blue shutters and had a picket fence and a porch swing. It looked like the absolute opposite of the kind of home I expected Dax to hail from. I kept waiting for a sweet old grandmother wearing a pink cardigan to slip out the front screen to sip her iced tea on the porch.
“I expected more bars on the windows.” I leaned forward to take in the cozy home. “Are you sure this is your house?”
He leaned across me and pointed. “See that window on the second floor?”
“Yeah.”
“I used to sneak out of there at night. The tree next to it provided the perfect ladder.”
“So your house was just a cover for your clandestine activities. That makes much more sense.”
“Exactly. Pretty sure my twin bed and Spiderman sheets haven’t changed since I left. ”
I paused while taking in that delicious tidbit. “Does that mean you slept in Spiderman sheets when you were in high school?”
He blinked. A hint of smile played across his lips before he stepped out of the cart. “Not one word, Books.”
“So, the whole time we were in biology together, you were going home to snuggle up in your superhero sheets?” I asked out loud, walking toward the door, absolutely adoring the visual that gave me. “That’s gonna cost you a few hours—at least. And that’s being generous.”
His low chuckle met my ears as his arm slung across my shoulders on the walk up. “That tattoo has done a number on you.”
I breathed out a laugh, hoping he was done touching me, while at the same time praying he wasn’t. We were standing on the front walkway leading to his parents’ house. We shouldn’t have been touching. As if he suddenly remembered our conversation the night before, he released me.
I had almost sent Dax a message tonight, canceling on him before he picked me up. But I couldn't send the message. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. But I also couldn’t see how this wouldn’t go down in flames.
“Hey, you two!”
Trudy stood in the doorway, waving us closer. She wore white slacks, a pink floral top, and dangly gold necklaces. I could see bits of her son in her rich, coffee-colored eyes.
“Hey, honey,” she said, pulling him into a hug. Dax stiffened for a moment before he slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“Ivy, I’m so glad you could come.” She gathered me into a soft embrace, the friendliness of her manners making me miss my own mother.
“Thanks for having me,” I told her. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” she said, patting Dax’s cheeks. “My two boys are here. What more could I want? ”
She ushered us both inside an expansive home that smelled of warm bread and cinnamon. Trudy chatted with Dax as she led us farther into the house—Dax’s childhood home. Along the way, we passed picture frames filled with images of smiling faces of three little boys building forts and younger versions of Trudy and her husband in front of the Disney World sign. A child version of Dax outside in a yard, with dark hair and a dirty tank top, bursting with gnarly teeth and a grin that wasn’t unlike the one he’d given me earlier on the drive over. He had his arm extended as far up as it would go, wrapped around a taller, light-haired boy wearing a smile that was nearly identical.
What more could she want?
I was willing to guess.
She led us past the kitchen decorated in whites and natural woods to the deck out back. Mark Miller stood tall at the barbecue grill, looking like a golfer in his khaki shorts and a tucked-in pastel polo shirt. He couldn’t have dressed more differently from Dax if he tried. Dax’s younger brother, Trent, stood at the grill with Mark, the pair laughing over something as we stepped out onto the deck. Compared to his lean and tall family, Trent was shorter with the build of a football player. He wore cargo shorts and a tank top and upon seeing his brother, an excited grin.
He whooped before running over and grabbing Dax by the waist to lift him up in a brotherly version of romance. Despite himself, Dax laughed and, after a moment, hugged him back.
Trudy beamed at her sons, a glossy sheen in her eyes. But I couldn’t seem to ease my mind, knowing what I knew about Mason. Was she thinking of him now? Missing him at this moment? Or had enough time passed that she didn’t mourn his absence at every occasion anymore? Was there a callus now where there used to be an open wound?
Trent and Dax were now standing on the grass, catching up. Trent regaled Dax with a tale that involved animated hand gestures. Dax saw me watching and motioned me closer with a flick of his head.
“Oh, sorry! I forgot you brought a girl over.” Trent took me in, blocking the sun from his eyes. “Wait. Ivy?”
Soon, I was the one wrapped in one of Trent’s hugs, though it was much less romantic, thank goodness.
“How are you? I thought you were the one who ran into his shop?”
I smiled awkwardly. “Guilty.”
Dax’s dad came over and gave me a side hug. “Hey, glad to have you.”
Trent still looked puzzled. “You’re hanging out together? After all that?”
“They became friends.” Trudy beamed at me while I stood in the middle of this ping pong match, not quite sure what to say.
“They already knew each other,” Trent insisted.
“They graduated together but didn’t really know each other,” Trudy said to Trent.
“They were partners in biology,” Trent explained with a laugh. “They knew each other, trust me.”
Dax seemed to shrink slightly.
Trudy leaned forward to tap Dax’s chest. “What? You didn’t tell us that.”
Trent laughed. “She’s the reason he passed the class.”
My body stilled. What?
“No,” Trudy said. “He graduated because Keith told him he had to if he wanted to keep his job.”
Trent snorted. His loud frankness in comparison to his brother was shocking if not, at this very moment, wildly interesting.
“He was always going to have a job with Keith. The guy loved him. We all knew that. Teachers, threats, suspension, bribes… None of that worked on Dax. But…put a pretty girl who can hold her own against him as his lab partner, and it was all over.”
I froze. Dax froze. The rest of the family began talking, moving, their voices muffled in my head. Our eyes locked together, mine in curiosity, his in…defeat? Or something else? My brows raised at him in question as I waited for his response. It was the crinkle of his nose and nearly imperceptible shrug of his shoulders that caused the grin splitting across my face.
Eventually, the burgers were done, and we all sat chatting at the table, munching on chips and potato salad while I watched this sweet family re-group again after Trent’s long absence. Trent was gregarious. Happy and interested in everything going on around him. It was no wonder the fun-loving kid I remembered from student council had gone on to become this person. And his parents were similar. If it wasn’t for the crinkle in Mark’s eyes when he laughed and the mischievous grin he shot his wife on occasion when he teased her, I might have insisted Dax was adopted.
Later that afternoon, the heat had become unbearable enough that we moved our chat and key lime pie into the cozy living room. Dax sat beside me on the couch, our legs next to each other. Yesterday had ended on a note of boundaries, but today, I found myself confused again. The pull of Nashville was always on my mind, but nothing like the force of nature it had been when I first arrived.
Mark slapped his hand on his knee and looked at Dax, “Well, do you mind if we take a look at my golf cart real quick, son?”
“Sure.”
The men stood, and Mark and Trent made their way toward the garage, but Dax turned to me before leaving. “We’ll just be a few minutes. You alright?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Do you need me to show you how to…crack open that…carburetor real quick?”
His mouth curled upward. “I’ll call you when I need you.”
He and his dad left for the garage, and it was only when I turned back to his mom, who was watching me carefully, that I realized I still had a sloppy grin on my face. I dialed it down to what was hopefully a more friendly vibe for the mother of a guy I was…friends with.
“Your house is beautiful,” I told her, suddenly desperate to fill the silence.
She smiled. “Thank you. Was it the kind of home you expected Dax to grow up in?”
I laughed, somewhat awkwardly, at her piercing truth bomb. “I definitely expected more black paint.”
She smiled good-naturedly but didn’t say anything else. Her gaze was heavy on me, and I fidgeted under her scrutiny while scouring my mind for something else I could chat about with this woman. I wasn’t sure why I wanted her to like me so much, but I did. It turned out, I didn’t have to say anything.
“Whatever it is you’re doing with Dax, please keep doing it.”
My eyes lifted to meet hers. “What?”
“It’s been wonderful watching him today. With you. He’s like a whole different boy.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. Thankfully, she was just beginning.
Trudy’s eyes were glossy. “We have another son. Mason. Has Dax told you anything?”
“A little.” My voice came out soft, matching her tempo.
She nodded, gathering her thoughts. “After Mason left, it was like I had lost two sons. Dax became so angry. He blamed us for pushing Mason away. And maybe we did. I don’t know. If I could go back, I would.” She paused to wipe under her eyes, then took in another ragged breath. “But then Dax started changing, stopped caring about things. He stopped playing with his little brother. He stopped trying in school. He was getting into all sorts of trouble. When he laughed, it was only to make fun of something. He moved into Mason’s old room, and I was terrified he was going to leave one day too. We just lost him.”
I wiped at the lone tear slipping down my face as she continued.
“He’s been doing great the past few years. He’s a good worker. His business has been thriving, but he still keeps such a tight wall around himself. Mason leaving devastated all of us in such different ways.” She met my gaze. “But today, with you, he was so much like the old Dax that I kept double-checking that it was really him. His eyes are shining again, and as a mom…” Her face morphed into a pained expression as she tried to gain control of her emotions. “As a mom, that was the best birthday gift I could have ever received.”
“I don’t think I have much to do with that. He?—“
She shook her head. “It’s you. I probably could have guilted him into coming to the barbecue today because it was for my birthday, and Trent’s here, but he would have left the first chance he could. But he stayed, and he visited, and he laughed, and he had a smile on his face while watching you for most of it.”
When I could only gape at her, she smiled.
“I mean no pressure on you about any of this. I don’t want to pry into your relationship, but I couldn’t let the day go by without telling you thank you.”
I wasn’t sure I could speak with the way my heart was touched by her words. I hadn’t done anything but show up with her son because I now craved being with him.
“Dax is a good person,” I said. Inwardly, I blanched. It sounded like I was placating her. My paltry words weren’t enough for all the good things I was discovering about her son. “ I mean, he’s actually helped me a lot with some things, and…” I floundered, there was too much I wanted to say and not enough words to do it. His mom stared at me, a smile growing on her face, and took pity.
“He is a good man. I’m so glad you see that in him.”
The rest of the afternoon passed with more chatting, and we even played Trudy’s favorite card game while we ate cake and ice cream. Dax seemed to relax more the longer we stayed, teasing his brother and even giving his mom a kiss on her cheek when we left. At first, I’d been shocked at the family and house Dax had grown up in, but now it felt exactly right.
We didn’t say much on the golf cart ride back to the duplex. My mind was too busy churning with everything I’d learned about Dax and his family. So much so that when we arrived at our driveway, and he turned off the key, I couldn’t help but speak.
“Your mom told me you moved into Mason’s room after he left.”
He had been about to exit when he paused before turning a slightly horrified gaze back at me. “What all did you and my mom talk about?”
“I now know that you and your brothers used to have a thing about streaking in your backyard.”
He smiled, but there was an overtly casual way about him, and he didn’t move a muscle. “Only when we lost at cards.”
“Why’d you move into his room?”
His first instinct was to brush me off. I knew it was. I could see it in his eyes. So, it surprised me when he leaned back against his seat, his fingers playing with the steering wheel.
“Because I thought he was going to come back.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Because I was thirteen. All I knew was my brother was gone, and I didn’t know why. I used to go looking through his room for clues, thinking I could track him down. But then I found this old Swiss Army knife I’d given to him for his birthday, and he had loved it—at least, he told me he did. So, I kept thinking he would come back to grab it. He used to love the TV show Survivor and had always talked about doing something like that, so for a while, I thought he was trying to make it on the island by himself, which meant he was probably missing his knife. So, I slept in his room for a few months, waiting for him to come back for it. Once I discovered how handy the tree next to the window was, it became my room permanently.”
He huffed out a laugh, giving the impression that it was no longer important. That he no longer cared.
But he couldn’t fool me anymore.
I hadn’t fully grasped the enormity of emotions a person needed to work through when someone abandoned their family, but I was starting to understand the tip of the iceberg. I’d taken psychology classes in college that had helped me understand more about death. The grieving process was brutal and heart-wrenching, and the enormity of emotions a person faces for the rest of their life never goes away.
Abandonment was another sort of tragedy on a similar scale.
I imagined the grieving process was similar. Someone you loved was no longer there. Life’s universal sorrow. But there was a merciful finality with death that was absent here. The devastation brought to this family held no ending. No coffin. No closure. Which meant there was still hope to be shattered every day that failed to bring their son home.
Or brother.
Hope was the real tragedy here.
Later that night, the knocking came softer this time, but by now, I knew the tune, though I still hadn’t figured out the song.
DAX
Thanks for coming tonight.
ME
I had fun. Thanks for inviting me.
Do it one more time.
DAX
That’s against the rules, Books.
ME
You break the rules all the time.
He started again, louder and with more distinct knocking. I sat up on my bed and finished out the tune with him, a smile on my face.
ME
It’s confusing with all the knocking. Is this song from my generation of music or yours?
DAX
Mine.
ME
Any hints?
DAX
I just gave you one.
ME
Any more?
DAX
Sweet dreams, Books