Chapter 31

There was this girl when I was growing up. Daisy. She was around my age, lived a couple doors down in the old neighborhood, and she used to sit for hours in her driveway drawing with little rocks or broken pieces of cement because she didn’t have chalk. When the sun turned the concrete slab into a griddle or the rain wrinkled her skin, she’d throw stuff at us when pre-teen Kai and I would ride past on our skateboards. Rocks, bottle caps, random trash, whatever was lying around. Her dad was mean as shit and we figured she was just like him.

Then I watched one day from my porch. I watched her getting off the school bus, knocking on her front door. Her dad’s truck was in the driveway and the TV inside so loud the whole neighborhood could hear the sports highlights. She kept knocking, this skinny girl and her backpack. Then trying the window where the bars had been torn off during a break-in and never replaced. And then finally giving up, resigned, and picking another rock from the side of the street that from some decaying part of the neighborhood eventually tumbled its way to her.

Next I watched Kai rolling down the sidewalk on his skateboard. Stopping to talk to her, to taunt her. I watched as he did donuts over her drawings, then pour a soda out on the pictures and flick the bottle cap in her hair. And I got it then, why she threw stuff at us whenever we passed her. She was aiming for Kai.

The next time she sat alone in her driveway, I brought my own rock and joined her. Eventually we left the driveway and explored the world. We watched the highway from a tall tree, counted planes from rooftops. And one day Daisy told me she was leaving. That when the school bus dropped us off, she was just going to walk away and go somewhere else. Anywhere else. You could walk away, too, she’d urged.

She had this magazine picture of Yosemite and got it in her head that she would live there, at a campground or something. Because they’d have everything you’d need and it doesn’t cost anything to camp, right? We talked about it for weeks, making plans. It’s not that I truly wanted to leave, but Daisy needed so much for me to go with her. It was the loneliness she feared the most.

Then she got on the bus one day and she had purple bruises on her arms. She’d been crying and suddenly it wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t some story we were writing about a great adventure to pass the time between school and sleep. When the bus pulled up at school, she looked at me, expectant, her backpack hanging heavier on her shoulders than normal. She said, We leave today at lunch? I didn’t know what to say to her, how to not say the wrong thing. So I did something much worse.

I walked away.

I think that was the moment I learned I wasn’t any good for anyone. Sure, I was barely eleven years old, so of course I wasn’t running north with nothing but a backpack and a skateboard. But I’d let Daisy believe in me. I’d let her trust me. Maybe I didn’t understand at the time what was really going on in her house, but on a conceptual level I got the fucking gist and yet I didn’t do anything to help her. I simply became another in a long line of letdowns.

I’ll never forget her eyes. How in them I saw her heart break. I see them still. Now.

My hands shake. Gripping the steering wheel, I barely see the road. It’s like tunnel vision, everything narrow and far away. I’m driving by memory more than sight. A tightness in my chest that’s been building for days now clamps down, climbing my throat. Suddenly it hurts to breathe.

When the phone buzzes in the cup holder, I nearly swerve into oncoming traffic, startled by the sound that feels louder in my head.

I hit the speakerphone button. “Yeah,” I answer, forcing my voice to work. I can’t hear myself. The static in my mind makes me feel like I’m underwater.

“Making sure you’re still coming,” Kai says. There’s noise in the background. Voices and muffled music. He’s already there at the stuffy Boston college bar where we arranged to meet.

“On my way.”

“Tick tock.”

I end the call and toss my phone on the passenger seat. The ache in my chest becomes unbearable, clenching down so hard it feels like I might snap a rib. I cut the wheel and veer onto the shoulder, slamming on the brakes. My throat’s closing as I frantically tear out of layers of clothing until I’m in just a wife-beater and sweating. I lower the windows to fill the Jeep with cool air.

The fuck am I doing?

Head in my hands, I can’t stop seeing her face. The disappointed look in her eyes. Not Daisy, the little girl from my past. But Taylor, the woman of my present.

She expected so much better from me. Not what I’d done back then, but what I was choosing to do now. She would’ve let me off the hook for acting like such a jackass this week if only I were strong enough to make the right decision when she gave me the chance.

Damn it, Edwards. Grow a pair.

I promised myself I’d be better for her and try to see myself through her eyes. See myself as more than just some gutter punk kid or an aimless loser or a walking one-night stand. She found the value in me, even when I couldn’t. So why the hell should I let Kai take that from me? Because he hasn’t just hijacked my life, he’s stolen from Taylor. I should be at a dumb dance with my girlfriend, not having a panic attack on the side of the road.

Shaking my head in disgust, I grab my discarded sweater and pull it on. Then I reach for the gearshift and put the Jeep in drive.

For the first time in my life, I find the courage to respect myself.

My first stop is Hunter’s place. Demi answers the door, greeting me with an inquisitive if somewhat hostile look. I don’t how much she’s heard since I last spoke to Taylor or what Hunter might have said after he wrote me the check.

I kiss her on the cheek as she lets me in.

Demi kind of recoils in response. “What’s that for, weirdo?”

“You were right,” I say with a wink.

“Well, obviously.” She pauses. “About what, though?”

“Hey man.” Hunter approaches us cautiously. “Everything okay?”

“It will be.” I pull out the envelope of cash and hand it to him.

Demi narrows her eyes at the handoff. “What’s that?” she demands.

Hunter takes the money, confused. “But why?”

“Answer me, monk,” grumbles Demi, tugging on Hunter’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”

I shrug and answer Hunter. “Don’t need it anymore.”

He appears understandably relieved, though I don’t envy the interrogation he’s about to endure from his girlfriend.

“Go easy on him,” I tell Demi. “He’s a good guy.”

“You want to stay and order a pizza?” Hunter offers. “We’re just chilling tonight.”

“Can’t. I’m late for a dance.”

Leaving Hunter’s place, I call Kai. Already the tightness in my chest has subsided, and my hands are steady as the phone rings.

“You here?” he says.

“I don’t have your money.”

“Don’t fuck with me, bro. I make one phone call—”

“I’m going to tell Max it was my fault.” The resolve in my voice surprises me. And I become more assured of my decision with every word. “I’ll leave your name out of it. For now. But if you call me again, if I so much as feel you sniffing around, I’ll out you in a heartbeat. Don’t try me, Kai. This is your last chance.”

I hang up on him. Then, steeling my nerves, I make another call.