Leaving Paradise

"I can't deal with it!" she cries out, then hurls herself onto her bed face-first.



I grab a box of tissues off her nightstand and toss it to her. I stand over her as she cries hysterically.



"I'm sorry, Caleb. I'm so sorry," she says between sobs. "I could have killed her, Caleb."



"But you didn't."



"I stood there and watched as they handcuffed you. I let them take you away."



I was so used to being the troublemaker, used to being the one who screwed up. Leah had been the squeaky-clean twin; I was the rebel. Even drunk, I didn't hesitate taking the fall for the accident. Leah wasn't going to be handcuffed, arrested, and convicted. She couldn't handle it. I could.



The cops didn't question it when I confessed right there. Hell, my own parents never questioned my guilt.



To think, it was all because Leah swerved to avoid hitting a fucking squirrel in the road.



"It's over." I tell her.



"No, Caleb, it's not. It'll never be over. I'm going to carry this guilt around with me the rest of my life. I can't even look at Maggie. Hell, Caleb, I can't even look at you. It's so hard for me, you can't imagine what it's like."



She's right, I can't.



Turning to me, she sucks in a frightened breath. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you? Promise me you'll never tell anyone."



I look down at my twin, the girl who I shared my mom's womb with, shared birthdays with, and grew up side by side with. She should know me like I know her, feel my pain as much as I feel hers. She knows this secret is tearing me up inside. I can feel it just as much as I know how twisted her rationale has become. But she ignores me and focuses only on herself. She really is, after all, a stranger to me.



THIRTY-FOUR



Maggie



I'm humming an old song my mom used to sing to me when she put me to bed, back when I was scared of the dark and refused to go to sleep. Life was less complicated back then. My dad lived at home and Mom's only job was, well, to just be a mom.



Now she's working as a waitress and dating. Okay, that last part is my fault. I can't even blame my mom for her date tonight. Thanks to Caleb, I'm finally coming to terms with it.



That first night he kissed me was magical. I was all ready to just be friends with him, cherish our platonic relationship, when it suddenly turned into something more. When I'm with him I don't think about my limp. All I think about is how good it feels to be able to talk and share and kiss.



Am I falling in love with Caleb Becker again? I don't know. I'm so nervous and scared to be hurt again, I'm keeping a wall up so my heart is protected.



Little by little he's been chipping away at that wall.



After work we've been getting off the bus two blocks away so we could steal an extra few minutes together. Unfortunately, today he had a meeting with some counselor from the Department of Corrections. He said it was important, so I hope it goes well.



I've forgiven him for the accident. Two days ago he tried to bring it up, saying he had something important to tell me about it. I cut him off with a kiss and promises of forgiveness.



The wind is blowing, and the leaves are starting to fall. It's the end of summer. The trees and grass and flowers are getting ready for dormancy. As I plant the last of the daffodil bulbs for Mrs. Reynolds, I think of the winter they'll have to survive before thawing and being ready for their first peek of the sun.



I look up from daydreaming about songs and trees and Caleb to find Mrs. Reynolds standing over me. I stop humming.



"You sure are cheery today."



"I only have five more bulbs before I'm all done," I tell her.



"That's a good thing, too," she says, looking up at the darkening sky. "The weather is changing. I already feel a winter chill in the air."



"Me too." After I finish the last bulb, we sit down and eat dinner.



"I'd like to invite you and your mother over for dinner one night. But only if it's okay with you." "Why wouldn't it be?"



"Because my son has been on more dates with your mother than he's been on in the past three years. I've been coaching him, you know."



"You have?"



"Did Lou bring you chocolates the first time he came to your house?" I nod.



"That was my advice. I told him to bring yellow roses to your mom because they're the best way to start--"



"They weren't yellow roses." She raises an eyebrow. "They weren't?"



"No. Tulips."



"Yellow?"



"Purple."



"Hmm. And the chocolates, they were caramels?"



"Frango mints. Very tasty."



"Tasty, huh? So much for mother's advice." I laugh.



My boss waves her arms in the air. "Enough lollygagging, Margaret."



When we're putting the dishes away, Mrs. Reynolds sways and holds the edge of the counter for support.



"Are you okay?" I ask, taking the plate from her and leading her to the sofa.



"These new medications are just wreaking havoc with these old bones, that's all. Nothing to worry about."



I do worry. Before I leave her house, I call Auntie Mae's Diner and tell Mr. Reynolds to check on her.



I head to the bus stop after I'm convinced she's okay. A car screeches by me as I walk. I recognize it as the same car with the guys who got in a fight with Caleb.



"Hey, it's Caleb Becker's retarded girlfriend," someone yells out the window.



I bite the inside of my lip and keep walking.



"I think she wants you, Vic. Why don't you show her a good time," someone else says. Then they all laugh.



The car is driving slowly beside me. I just hope they don't step out of the car. If I stop walking, will they get out?



Will they hurt me?



Deep fear, so intense I'm shaking inside, keeps me from stopping.



I can't go back to Mrs. Reynolds' house. It's too far and I can't outrun these guys. There are houses lining the street. I could try ringing a doorbell and ask someone to call the police.



A plan forms in my head. I turn around and head in the opposite direction, the direction I just came from. But in the process I fall down. My hands are stinging and I feel sticky wetness dripping down my knee from the cut I've just gotten from the fall.



"Did you have a nice trip?" one of them yells out the window.



I get up and hobble faster, praying they won't turn the car around and follow me. Because if they do, I don't know how I'm going to handle it. I listen for the sound of the car turning around. I don't dare look back and give them another reason to come after me. But I can hardly hear anything besides the furious panting of my own breath.



Relief sweeps over me as the bus roars down the street. I hurry to the curb and wave the bus down, then glance to see if the car is still there.



"You okay?" the bus driver asks.



"I'm fine," I say, then scurry to the back to sit.



Nothing can cure me, no amount of physical therapy or surgeries. The old Maggie, the tennis star without a debilitating limp, the old Maggie, who could run away from danger, doesn't even exist.



Caleb is outside mowing his lawn as I limp down the street. He stops the motor and rushes over to me as soon as he glances my way.



"What happened? Tell me what happened."



I'm trying to hold back tears. "I'm fine."



He looks around to make sure people aren't looking, then cradles my face in his hands. "You're not fine. Damn it, talk to me."



I gaze at him in despair. "It was that Vic guy."



"I'll kill him if he touched you," he growls, eyeing my ripped pants stained with blood.



"He didn't. He and his friends just scared me, that's all."



"I'll make sure that never happens again, Maggie."



I smile warmly at him. "You're not going to always be able to protect me. What are you going to do when I'm in Spain, fly over and beat up all the bad guys who make fun of me?"



THIRTY-FIVE



Caleb



I said Vic was going to pay, but I didn't know how to do it ... legally. That is, until I was talking to the guys at lunch yesterday who told me Vic is competing for his school at our wrestling invitational today.



I am officially a Paradise Panther wrestler now. And I only have to beat out four guys until I come face to face on the mat with Medonia. As I suspected, we're still in the same weight class. I think the guy's using steroids to bulk up.



I'm in the locker room with the rest of the team, getting ready for the match.



"Caleb, you look like you're about to kill someone," Brian says as I jump rope to warm up.



"He's in the zone," Drew says. "Ain't that right?"



I don't answer. Coach Wenner stops me and pats me on the back. "You haven't been to practice, Becker. You sure you're ready?"



I put my mouth guard in. "Yeah, Coach."



I win my first two matches with a pin within the first minute. The third match took me a little longer. I think I pinned him in ninety seconds.



"CB's on fire!" Tristan yells as he's plugging up a nosebleed from his previous match.



I focus as they call me and Medonia up to the mat. I can't wait to wipe that smirk off his face.



"How's your girlfriend?" he asks.



"Better than yours, any day."



"She's a cripple, Becker."



"You'll be the cripple after this match."



The ref puts his hands between us. "Keep it clean, guys."



When the match starts, I push him with all my might until he falls. Unfortunately, he rolls off the mat and the ref blows his whistle. "Caution, Panthers. Point for Fremont."



The next time we start, Medonia starts low. I move off the mat when the match starts and Medonia flies past me. The ref blows his whistle.



When the match starts up again, I get one more caution for an illegal hold which ends up with my elbow in Medonia's face.



One more caution and I'll be disqualified.



The whistle blows, and the ref calls out, "We've got a bleeder for Fremont. Two minute break."



Coach Wenner stalks over to me, eyes blazing. "What are you doing? My team doesn't play dirty, Becker. Now either you go out there and try to win that match, or I'm forfeiting it for you. Which is it?"



THIRTY-SIX



Maggie



Mrs. Reynolds is going to be the death of me. She's determined to make me get behind the wheel of her black monstrosity sitting in the garage.



"It's a classic," Mrs. Reynolds says, her chin held high as the garage door opens and reveals the Cadillac.



"I'm ... I'm really not ready to drive yet," I say. "But you can drive it and I'll ride on the passenger side."



Mrs. Reynolds opens the passenger door and slides into the seat. "Honey, my eyes can hardly see two feet in front of me. Come on, now. Time's a-wastin'."



She hangs her hand out the window, the keys dangling from her fingers. She shakes them, the keys on the ring clinking against each other.



I'm huffing and puffing as I slip the keys from her hand, hoping she'll get the hint. She doesn't. I open the driver's side door and slide into the front seat. Wow. The white leather is soft, and the back of the seat is as big as an old Lay-Z-Boy recliner. I look out the front window. The hood is wide and has that shiny Cadillac symbol.



I turn to Mrs. Reynolds, who has her small purse neatly clutched in her lap, ready to go. Making the old lady proud of me would be so great. But... I'm not ready. I think.