Chapter SIX
‘Auden? Have you…’
I stopped. Listened. Waited. But, as usual, nothing followed this but silence.
Sighing, I put down my econ textbook, stood up, and opened my bedroom door. Sure enough, there was Heidi, Thisbe in her arms, looking at me with a perplexed expression.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she said. ‘I had a concrete reason why I came up here! And now, I have no idea what it was. Can you even believe that?’
I could. In fact, Heidi’s forgetfulness had become as much a part of my routine as my morning coffee and late, late nights. I had done the best I could to keep myself segregated, my own life in Colby as separate from hers and my dad’s as possible, considering we were living under the same roof. But it was no use. Two weeks in, and I was hopelessly intertwined, whether I liked it or not.
Because of this, I was now fully aware of the fact that my dad’s mood depended entirely on how his writing went that day: a good morning, and he was cheerful the rest of the day, a bad one and he skulked around, sullen and muttering. I knew all the ups and downs of Heidi’s ongoing postpartum issues, such as the forgetfulness, insane mood swings, and how she worried on multiple, complex levels about every freaking thing the baby did, from sleeping to eating to pooping. I was even fully versed in Thisbe’s dayto-day life, from the crying (which was ongoing, it seemed) to her tendency to get the hiccups right when she was finally falling asleep. Maybe they were equally aware of me, as well, but I doubted it.
Because of all this, I’d actually come to kind of enjoy – sometimes even crave – the few hours I spent at Clementine’s every day. It was a chance to do something concrete, with a beginning, middle, and end. No wild emotional swings, no wondering aloud about someone else’s bathroom habits, and no hiccuping. The only thing that kept it from being perfect was its close proximity to Esther, Leah, and Maggie and all their various dramatics. But at least they left me alone when my door was shut.
Now, I looked at Heidi, who was still standing there, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember why she’d come upstairs. Thisbe, in her arms, was awake and staring up at the ceiling, most likely debating when she wanted to start screaming again. ‘Did it have something to do with work?’ I asked her, as I’d learned that a few prompts could sometimes trigger her memory.
‘No,’ she said, shifting Thisbe to her other arm. ‘I was downstairs, and thinking that I had to get the baby down for a nap soon, but it’s been so hard because she’s been switching it up so much, so no matter what I do she gets overtired…’
I tuned out and began mentally reviewing the periodic table, which usually kept me occupied during these soliloquies.
‘… so I was going to try to put her down, but then I didn’t, because…’ She snapped her fingers. ‘The wave machine! That’s what it was. I can’t find it. Have you seen it around?’
I was about to say no. Two weeks ago, when I’d first arrived, I would have, with no guilt or even a second thought. But thanks to the intertwining, I said, ‘I think it might be on that table by the front door.’
‘Oh! Wonderful.’ She sighed, looking down at Thisbe, who was yawning. ‘Well, I’ll just go grab it and we’ll hope for the best. I mean, yesterday I tried to put her down at this same time, she was clearly exhausted, but of course the minute I did she started up. I swear, it’s like…’
I began easing the door shut, slowly, slowly, until at last she got the hint, stepping back and turning toward the stairs. ‘… so wish us luck!’ she was saying, when I finally heard the knob click.
I sat down on my bed, looking out at the beach below. There were a lot of things about being here that I did not understand. And I was okay with that. But the wave machine? It drove me nuts.
Here we were, mere feet from the real, actual ocean, and yet Heidi was convinced that Thisbe could only sleep with the sound of manufactured waves – turned up to the highest setting, no less – supplied by her noise machine. Which meant that I had to hear them all night long as well. It probably would not have been that big a deal, if it hadn’t made it impossible to hear the real sea. So I was there, in a beachfront house, listening to a fake ocean, and this just seemed to sum up everything that was wrong with this situation from start to finish.
Outside, I heard footsteps again, then a door opening and shutting. A moment later, sure enough, the waves began. Fake, loud, and endless.
I stood up, grabbing my bag, and stepped out into the hallway, moving past Thisbe’s barely open door as quietly as I could. At the top of the stairs, I paused, looking into my dad’s study, the door to which he always kept slightly ajar. He was at his desk, facing the wall, as usual, a Diet Coke can and a whole apple next to him. So it had been a good day.
Like I said, I’d become versed in my dad’s habits. And by using my talents of observation, I’d figured out that he took an apple up to his office every day after lunch. If it was a good day, he always got too immersed in what he was doing and didn’t eat it. On a bad one, though, the core was bitten down to nothing, nibbled to death, sometimes even in two pieces. On a whole-apple day, he emerged at dinnertime cheerful and talkative. On an apple-core day – especially a two-piece core – you did best to steer clear, if he even came down at all.
Most days, though, I wasn’t around for dinner anyway, as I left at five or so to head to Clementine’s, where I grabbed a sandwich as I worked until closing. After that, I usually walked the boardwalk for an hour or so before coming home to get my car and taking off for another three or four.
I’d found one all-night place, called the Wheelhouse Diner, about thirty-five miles away, but it was no Ray’s. The booths were narrow and stank like bleach, and the coffee was watery. Plus, the waitresses all dirty-looked you if you stayed longer than it took to eat whatever you ordered, even though the place was usually deserted. So more often than not, I’d just stop at the Gas/Gro, the closest convenience store, buy a big travel cup of coffee, and sip it as I drove around. In just two weeks, I knew about every inch of Colby backward and forward, for all the good that would do me.
By the time I got to Clementine’s, it was almost six, and the shift was about to change. Which meant technically that Esther was done and Maggie was coming on, although more often than not – and for reasons I did not understand – whoever was leaving usually still hung around, unpaid, by choice. Then again, hanging around seemed to be all anyone did in Colby. The girls gathered at Clementine’s, crowding the register and gossiping, flipping though fashion magazines, while the boys were on the benches in front of the bike shop, gossiping and reading bike magazines. It was ridiculous. And yet it went on, every day, all day long.
‘Hey there,’ Esther, who was the friendliest of all of the girls, called out to me when I came in. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Good,’ I said, my standard reply. I’d long ago resolved to be cordial but not overly so, lest I be sucked into some conversation about what celebrity was in rehab or strap versus strapless dresses. ‘Any shipments in today?’
‘Just these.’ She picked up a couple of slips of paper, handing them off to me as I passed. ‘Oh, we got an extra roll of quarters at the bank today for some reason, and I put the deposit slip under the bear.’
‘Great. Thanks.’
‘No problem.’
A minute later, I was in the office, door shut, all alone. Just how I liked it. If only the walls had been a cool white, everything would have been perfect.
Usually, my focus on my work allowed me to tune out anything that was going on out in the store. But occasionally, as I switched tasks, I’d hear bits here and there. When Leah was working, she was always on her cell phone. Esther seemed to spend a lot of time humming and singing to herself. And Maggie: well, Maggie was always talking to the customers.
‘Oh, those look great,’ I heard her say around seven thirty as I started on the payroll for the week. ‘Petunia’s are the best jeans, I swear. I live in mine.’
‘I don’t know,’ a girl’s voice replied. ‘I like the pockets on these, but I’m not sure about the wash.’
‘It is a little dark.’ A pause. ‘But at the same time, I think it’s always good to have one pair of jeans you can always dress up, you know? And a dark wash guarantees that. Not all jeans look good with heels. But those will.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Oh, totally. But if the wash worries you, we can pull a few other brands. The pockets on the Pink Slingbacks are great. And then there’s always the Courtney Amandas. They’re, like, magic for your butt.’
The girl laughed. ‘Then I definitely need to try them.’
‘Done. Let me just find your size…’
I rolled my eyes at no one, punching a few numbers into the calculator. Every time I overheard her going on in such detail about stuff like this, the nuances of different brands of flip-flops, or the pros and cons of boy shorts versus bikini bottoms, it seemed like such a waste. Here you had the capability to know so much about so many things, and you chose shoes and clothes. Leah at least seemed smart, while Esther, who clearly followed her own beat, was an individual. But Maggie was just… well, she was just like Heidi. A girl’s girl, all the way, all pink and fluff and frivolity. Even worse, she was happy about it.
‘Here they are!’ I heard her say now. ‘Oh, and I grabbed a pair of these great Dapper wedges we just got in, so you could see how they do with a bit more formal look.’
‘Thanks,’ the customer said. ‘These look great. I love shoes.’
‘Of course you do!’ Maggie replied. ‘You’re human, aren’t you?’
For God’s sake, I thought. Where was the wave machine when you really needed it?
A little while later, I heard the front door chime. A moment later, the music cranked up, this time a loud, thumping dance beat. I didn’t even have to look at my watch. By this point, I knew the nine o’clock dance when I heard it.
It happened each night, an hour before closing, regardless of whether there was only one employee or all three present, and always lasted exactly the length of one song, no longer. I didn’t know how the customers reacted, although I could remember how I had, which was why I made sure to stay in the office.
From about 9:03 to ten, there were always a few more customers and a lot of idle chatter, usually concerning plans for the night or the lack thereof. Again, I tried to make it a point not to listen, but sometimes this was impossible, which was why I now knew that Leah always wanted to go out to the clubs (better chances of meeting older boys they hadn’t known all their lives), while Esther preferred to go hear music (apparently she had some sort of singer-songwriter bent). Maggie, from what I could tell, didn’t do much other than hang out with the boys from the bike shop, most likely pining after Jake, although she swore up and down she was over him, so over him.
This night was no different, as became clear when I heard Leah say, ‘So, it’s Ladies in Free at Tallyho tonight.’
‘What was it,’ Esther said, ‘that we swore the last time we went there?’
‘We didn’t –’
‘No, no, no to Tallyho,’ Maggie recited over her.
Someone snickered. Then Leah said, ‘I don’t understand what is it you guys hate so much about that place.’
‘Everything?’ Esther said.
‘It’s better than going to open mike night at Ossify and watching some guy recite his shopping list over a drum-beat.’
‘I don’t know,’ Maggie said. ‘Is it really?’
More snickering. ‘Look,’ Esther said, ‘I’m not saying we have to go to Ossify. I just don’t feel like getting grinded on by some drunk tourist again tonight.’
‘There’s always the jump park,’ Maggie said. Loud groans. ‘What? It’s free, there are boys there…’
‘The boys we’ve known all our freaking lives,’ Leah said.
‘… and it’s fun,’ Maggie finished. ‘Plus, I heard Eli might be riding this weekend.’
I’d been adding up a long list of numbers, and at just this moment lost track of the last one I’d punched in. I hit clear, and started over.
‘That rumor,’ Leah said, ‘goes around every week.’
‘Maybe, but this time I heard it from Adam.’
‘Who heard it from Eli?’ No answer from Maggie. ‘Exactly my point. It’s like a Bigfoot sighting by now. It’s urban legend.’
No one spoke for what seemed like a long time. Finally Esther said, ‘It has been over a year. You’d think that he’d eventually…’
‘Abe was his best friend,’ Leah said. ‘You know how tight they were.’
‘I know, but still. He has to get back to it sometime.’
‘Says who?’
‘What she means,’ Maggie said, ‘is that it was his life, back then. And now he’s here, managing the shop. It’s like everything just stopped.’
Another silence. Leah said, ‘Well, for him it probably did. You know?’
There was a tap on the door behind me, making me jump: at some point, Esther had slipped away from them and come back with the cash from the register. ‘We’re about out of here,’ she said as she came in. I moved aside, like I did every night, as she ducked under the desk to the safe. ‘You almost done?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. She swung the door shut, pulling out the safe key. ‘I’ll, um, be out in a sec.’
‘All right.’
When she left, I turned back to my calculator, starting to add again. Halfway down the row of numbers, though, I stopped and sat as still as I could, listening hard to see if the conversation would double back to where it had been before. When it didn’t, I bent back over my numbers, punching them in slowly this time, one by one by one, so as not to make the same mistake again.
By midnight, I’d already walked the boardwalk and driven a full loop of Colby proper, and still had a few hours before I even wanted to think about going home. Clearly, I needed coffee. So I headed to the Gas/Gro.
I had just parked and was digging in my ashtray for change when I heard an engine zooming up behind me. When I looked up, a beat-up green truck was pulling in a few spaces down. Even before I saw the bikes piled in the back I recognized the short, stocky guy behind the wheel, and Adam, Maggie’s friend, beside him. They cut the engine and hopped out, going inside. After a moment, I followed them.
The Gas/Gro was small but clean, with neat aisles and not too bright lighting. I went straight to the full-strength GroRoast, as was my habit, pulling out the biggest cup and filling it up. Adam and his friend were at the other end of the store, by the coolers, where they grabbed drinks before proceeding to the candy aisle.
‘Goobers,’ Adam was saying as I added a bit of cream to my cup. ‘Twizzlers. And… let me see. Maybe Junior Mints?’
‘You know,’ his friend said, ‘you don’t have to name each item out loud.’
‘It’s my process, okay? I make better decisions when I vocalize as I do it.’
‘Well, it’s annoying. At least do it quietly.’
I put a lid on my cup, making sure it was secure, then started for the register, where a heavyset woman was buying some lottery tickets. A moment later, they stepped up behind me. I could see them in the mirrored reflection of the cigarette ad over our heads.
‘One fourteen,’ the clerk said, ringing me up.
I slid my exact change over, then reached for my cup. As I turned, Adam said, ‘Hey, I thought you looked familiar! You, um… work at Clementine’s, right?’
I knew that um. It was obvious my one night of bad judgment had branded me as The Girl Who Hooked up with Jake, although Adam was nice enough to not say this, at least to my face. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I do.’
‘Adam,’ he said, pointing to himself. ‘And this is Wallace.’
‘Auden,’ I told him.
‘Look at that,’ Adam said, nudging him. ‘She bought a single cup of coffee. Such restraint!’
‘No kidding,’ Wallace said as they dumped their collective items onto the counter. ‘Who can come to the Gas/Gro and only buy one thing?’
‘Well,’ Adam said as the clerk began ringing things up, ‘she’s not from here.’
‘This is true.’ Wallace glanced at me. ‘No offense, of course. It’s just that we’re –’
‘Store-goers,’ I finished for him, without even thinking. He looked surprised, then exchanged a smile with Adam. ‘Exactly.’
‘That’ll be fifteen eighty-five,’ the clerk said, and as they dug in their pockets, pulling out crumpled bills, I took the opportunity to slip out, back to my car. A moment later, they emerged, each carrying a bag, and climbed into the truck. I watched them back out, their lights moving across me as they pulled away.
I sat there and drank my coffee for a little while, considering my options. There was always the all-night diner. Or another loop around Colby. I glanced at my watch: only 12:15. So many hours to fill, and so little to do it with. Maybe it was for this reason that I found myself pulling out, turning in the direction they’d gone. Not looking for Bigfoot, necessarily. Just something.
• • •
It wasn’t hard to find the jump park. All you had to do was follow the bikes.
They were everywhere. Crowding the narrow sidewalks, on racks on the backs of cars, or sticking up from rails on the roof. I stuck close to an old Volkswagen van with a bright orange one hanging off it, following as it turned into a big lot two or three streets away from the beach. As I parked, I could see some bleachers bordered by two huge lights, which were shining down on a row of jumps, ramps made out of logs, and sand. Every once in a while, you’d see someone on a bike rise up above the sight line, suspended in midair for just a moment before disappearing again.
There was also an oval track made up of various types of berms, which some people were circling, and down from that, two large, curved ramps facing each other. I sat in my car for a moment, watching someone in a black helmet ride down one side, then up the other, back and forth, mesmerized, as if someone were swinging a watch on a chain before my eyes. Then someone slammed the door on the Volkswagen, jerking me back to attention.
I was not sure what I was doing there. It wasn’t like it was exactly my scene or crowd. The bleachers were filled with girls who were probably busy comparing lip glosses and mooning over the guys as they rode below them. Further proof: as I looked closer, I spotted Maggie sitting a few rows up, in pink, naturally. I hadn’t looked closely enough to see if Jake was one of the guys currently moving through the jumps, but then again, I probably didn’t need to.
I sat back, picking up my cup of coffee and taking a sip. Cars were still pulling in and parking, and occasionally people would pass by my car, their voices rising overhead. Each time, I felt more self-conscious, reaching for my keys to crank the engine and get out of there. But then they’d move on, and I’d let my hand drop. After all, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. And at least this way I wasn’t wasting gas.
‘Yo!’ I heard someone yell suddenly from somewhere to my right. ‘Pretty girl!
Where’s the party at?’
I recognized Jake’s voice instantly. Sure enough, when I turned, I spotted him one row over and two down, leaning against a silver sedan. He had on jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt, the tails of which were flapping in the breeze as he took a sip of something in the blue plastic cup in his hand. It took me a minute before I realized he hadn’t even been speaking to me but to a tall blonde who was walking a few rows down, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. She glanced up at him, smiling shyly, and kept walking. A moment later, he was catching up with her just a couple of cars in front of me.
Crap, I thought, watching as he flashed her that wide smile. Leaving right then would have attracted way too much attention, but it wasn’t like I wanted to sit and watch my biggest mistake in recent memory play out before me either. I considered my options a moment, then carefully opened my door, sliding my feet onto the gravel. I eased it shut, ducking down as I rounded the car beside me, then put another, and yet another between us.
Due to my zigzag escape, I ended up in an area off to the left of the jump park, where there were only a couple of bike racks and a few straggly trees. It was just out of the reach of the bright lights by the bleachers, so I could see everything without being spotted. In other words, perfect.
I leaned against a bike rack as I watched people move through the line of jumps. At first glance, each rider looked the same, but with further study I realized everyone was going at different speeds on their approach, and some stayed closer to the ground, cautious, while others rose up high, then higher still on the next. Occasionally there’d be a smatter of applause or some hooting from the bleachers, but otherwise it was strangely quiet, just the sound of tires on gravel, broken up by moments of silence as they went airborne.
After a while, I spotted Adam and Wallace, sitting on their bikes, helmets off, where people were lining up for the jumps. Wallace was eating Pringles, while Adam was looking up at the bleachers, gesturing for someone there to come join them. Following his gaze, I found Maggie again, still alone, still staring down at the ramps. You can keep looking, I wanted to tell her, but most likely, he’s under those bleachers, not in front of them. Stupid girl.
Just as I thought this, she stood suddenly, like she’d heard me. I watched as she reached up, pulling her dark curls back at the base of her neck, then twisted an elastic around them. She reached into the bag beside her and pulled out a helmet, grabbing it by the strap and starting down the bleachers to the boys waiting below.
I had to admit I was surprised. What I saw next, though, left me stunned: when she got to Adam, he hopped off his bike, offering it to her, and she climbed on, pulling the helmet over her head. He said something to her, and she nodded, then pushed back slowly, flexing her fingers over the ends of the handlebars. When she was about twenty feet back, she rose up on the pedals for a moment, squaring her shoulders, and started toward the jumps.
She hit the first one at moderate speed, kicking up a bit of dust, gaining even more momentum as she approached, then cleared the next. By the third, she was rising up really high, shoulders hunched, the bike seeming to float beneath her. Even from my limited experience, I could tell she was good: she hit the jumps squarely, and her landings were smooth, not clumsy like some of the other riders I’d seen. It seemed to take her no time or effort at all to do the entire set of them, and then she was circling back to where the boys were waiting. Wallace offered her a Pringle, and she took it, flipping up the visor of her helmet to pop it in her mouth.
I was so busy watching this that at first, I didn’t see the figure that had appeared off to my right, so it took a second to realize it was Eli. His hair was loose over his shoulders, and he had on jeans and a green long-sleeved T-shirt. Unfortunately, by the time I processed all this, I’d been staring at him long enough for him to notice. He turned and looked right at me, and I nodded at him in reply, in what I hoped seemed like a casual way.
He nodded back, sliding his hands in his pockets, and I thought of what Esther, Leah, and Maggie had been talking about earlier that day, how he did or didn’t ride anymore, and the reasons, or person, behind that choice. Not that it was any of my business. I was leaving anyway.
I started toward my car, which meant I had to walk right by him. As I got closer, he glanced up at me again. ‘Already leaving,’ he said in that flat voice I recognized. ‘Not exciting enough for you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Just… I have somewhere I have to be.’
‘Busy times,’ he said.
‘That’s right.’
I didn’t pretend to know Eli at all, but even so, I’d noticed that his manner was slightly hard to read. It was something in the way he talked that made it difficult to tell whether he was kidding or serious or what. This bothered me. Or intrigued me. Or both.
‘So,’ I said after a moment, figuring I had nothing to lose in asking, ‘do you jump?’
‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘You?’
I almost laughed, then thought of Maggie and realized this maybe was not a joke. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t even… I mean, I haven’t ridden a bike in ages.’
He considered this, then looked back at the jumps. ‘Really.’
This too was said flatly, no intonation, so I had nothing to go on. Still, I felt defensive as I said, ‘I just… I wasn’t much for outdoor stuff as a kid.’
‘Outdoor stuff,’ he repeated.
‘I mean, I went outside,’ I added. ‘I wasn’t a recluse or anything. I just didn’t ride bikes very much. And haven’t recently.’
‘Right.’
Again, it wasn’t like this was critical, necessarily. But something about it still bugged me. ‘What,’ I said, ‘is that a crime here or something? Like only buying one thing at the Gas/Gro?’
I meant to say this in a kidding sort of way, but I sounded shrill even to my own ears, hearing it. Or maybe just crazy. Eli said, ‘What?’
I felt my face flush. ‘Nothing. Forget it.’
I turned to go, pulling my keys out of my pocket. I’d only taken two steps, though, when he said, ‘You know, if you don’t know how to ride a bike, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘I can ride a bike,’ I said. And this was true. I’d learned over Christmas when I was seven, in our driveway, on Hollis’s old Schwinn, with training wheels. From what I remembered, I’d liked it, or at least not hated it. Which did not explain why I couldn’t actually recall doing it very much since then. Or, at all. ‘I just… I haven’t had the opportunity in a while.’
‘Huh,’ he said.
That was just it. Just Huh. Jesus. ‘What?’
He raised his eyebrows. Probably because again, my voice sounded high, slightly unbalanced. It was so weird, because usually I was totally nervous talking to guys. But Eli was different. He made me want to say more, not less. Which was maybe not such a good thing.
‘All I’m saying,’ he said after a moment, ‘is that we are at a jump park.’
I just looked at him. ‘I’m not going to ride a bike just to prove to you that I can.’
‘I’m not asking you to,’ he replied. ‘However, if you’re looking for an opportunity… here’s your chance. That’s all.’
Which, of course, made perfect sense. I’d said I hadn’t had the opportunity: he was pointing out that now I did. So why did I feel so unnerved?
I took a breath, then another, so my voice was calm, level as I said, ‘I think I’ll pass, actually.’
‘All righty,’ he said, hardly bothered.
And then I was walking back to my car. End of subject and conversation. But ‘all righty’? What was that?
Once behind the wheel, the door shut behind me, I looked back at him, already thinking of a dozen other, better ways I could have handled this conversation. I cranked my engine, then backed out of my space. The last thing I saw before turning around was Eli right where I’d left him, still looking up at the jumps. His head was cocked slightly to the side, as if he was thinking hard, the jumpers rising up in front of him. From this distance, you couldn’t tell them apart, distinguish their various styles or approaches. They were all the same, moving in a steady line, up, down, in view for only a moment, then gone again.