“Well, then, it seems to me that a more trustworthy way of keeping track of this information would be to write it down in that same notebook, don’t you think?”
The sounds outside the door were already growing quieter. We could hear the busses revving their engines; bus drivers are some of the most impatient creatures on the planet, everyone knew that. We were all just waiting for the inevitable sound of those doors screeching closed, and the huge lumbering yellow things pulling away. We all wrote as fast as we could, then shoved the notebooks back into our backpacks. Zippers buzzed, and for a moment the room sounded like a beehive.
“Very well, then. Have a wonderful evening, children. You are dismissed,” she said, and I thought, for a second, I saw her smirk. She thought this was funny. We all knew that the kids who had to ride the busses were going to get yelled at. I knew that I was already too late to catch Randy. Teachers walked the kids to the busses until they were in third grade. He was already on one. From there, I knew he’d be dropped off at a stop near our neighborhood, and have to ride the city bus which came along a few minutes later. I thought that, if I hurried, I could catch him before he had to get on.
I never did catch him at that bus stop. My bike was missing that afternoon when I got to the bike rack.
I heard my mother coming up the steps. The first creaking sound I heard came at the exact moment I was remembering how I looked up from the bike rack to see the tail end of a bus turning off Park Street and onto Niles Road. I don’t know why, but at the time, I was sure something horrible was about to happen. Turns out, I was right.
She turned the knob softly, and I almost didn’t realize she was coming in without knocking until she was already in the room. I decided to play sleep. Nothing new, of course; I’d been doing it my whole life. Somehow, though, in the back of my mind, I always felt like she suspected; that I never got away with it. I tried to slow my breathing and quiet my heart, which had been racing with the memory of seeing that bus turn away. I stopped thinking, and just listened to her movement.
“Oh,” she mumbled, as if she hadn’t expected to find me home. I heard her stand still for a moment, then move quietly about the room, straightening. She wanted me to wake up, I could tell. I heard her make small clicking noises under her tongue when she picked up the towel from this morning off the floor. Her breathing changed each time she bent to move something from the floor to what she felt was its “proper place.” She paused, again, then I heard her walk to the door. I felt the small gust of wind as she opened it, and closed it again. There was a pause between the two, though, as if she took a moment to look. In that pause, I felt something flare up in my stomach, like a spark: guilt. I didn’t even know specifically what for, but it was there.
I took my arm away from my eyes, and looked over at the phone. My mother and I had gone through a war about putting a phone in my bedroom, but Sarah had weighed in on my side. It was still that ancient, milk-gone-sour color phone that I had spent so many nights staring at. I reached down and grabbed the phone line from where it snaked along the floor. I snatched quickly, and put my other hand out as far as I could reach it. It was an old trick from lying on my bed, praying for someone to call. I half expected it to crash to the floor before I could reach it, but it flew onto my palm like always.
I listened to the dial tone for a moment, then put my finger over the interrupt button. The sudden quiet was loud. Before I could stop myself, I dialed.
“Hello?” Kevin said after three rings.
“Kevin,” I said.
“Mikey,” he replied with a flat voice.
“Umm—I just—I—,” I started.
“Don’t,” he said.
“But I—Kevin, I have to—,” I tried to continue.
“No, you don’t. Unless you’re calling to say that you want to come over, hang up,” he said.
I didn’t say anything for a moment. He hung up. The sudden ‘click’ made me jump. Something in my chest contracted, and pressure built behind my eyes. I set the phone down on my chest, my finger over the interrupt button again. I picked it up, and dialed again.
“Hello?” Susan said.
“Hi,” I said, after a moment.
“Hey,” she said. In the background, I heard the television going, and someone laughing. “Super busy right now,” she said, “can I call you back?”
“Yeah—” I started to say.
“Great,” she said, interrupting, and hung up. I put my finger over the button, again, and listened as the house creaked. A wind came through, and the windowpanes rattled a bit.
I dialed again, and when someone picked up, there was only silence.
“I want to come over,” I said, and hung up.
PART THREE
TWENTY-THREE
I slid into my shoes as quickly as I could. I didn’t bother to lace them. Something in me was moving. I kept wanting to say ‘finally’, but that seemed an understatement. I got down the stairs two at a time. I was almost to the door before my mother said, “Goodness!” and caught me from the side-room. I stopped. “I came up a moment ago,” she said, “you were asleep.”
“Just remembered something. I gotta’ go. Can I take the car?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know, honey. We’ll need to ask your father—” she said.
“Nevermind,” I said, “I’ll walk. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said, and opened the door.
“But don’t you want to take the car?” she asked. Something in her voice said that she was hoping for a delay of any kind.
“No, that’s alright,” I called as the door closed behind me.
I was about halfway to Kevin’s trailer before I realized I was jogging. Something in me was moving. I wondered if this was how trees feel when spring comes on. I felt as if trying to slow down would kill me, and I’d been dead so long. The sidewalk gave way to the bare shoulder of the road. That soon turned into hard-packed dirt. The entire time I tried to have a coherent thought, but couldn’t. The only thing I could even begin to describe as thinking was a continual amazement at what I was doing.
I was there so quickly that I felt, for a moment, that I must’ve come to the wrong house. I walked up the two steps, and knocked. I waited, looking around the park. The last time I’d been here during daylight, I had been leaving; I hadn’t noticed much. I could see, though, that most of the trailers were in horrible shape. Down the street, children played stickball in the dying remains of what was, at some time, a small park. One boy slid from a full run while a girl and another smaller boy attempted to tag him. Behind me, the door opened.
I turned to find Kevin wearing nothing but a towel. His hair was damp, and scattered in all directions. Water beaded on his skin. My eyes flashed as I stepped in, forcing him to step back. I felt as if the momentum I’d built up on the way over was in control.
I closed the door with one hand, and put the other on against his face, cupping his jaw. I drew him closer and kissed him. He resisted somewhat, but didn’t actually try to pull away. His eyes opened wide in shock, then melted down to closed while I watched. His hand was flat against my chest, still trying to push me away, but the pressure grew weaker second by second. I don’t know how long he let me kiss him, but at some point, the pressure returned to his hand, and I stepped back.
“What—?” he started, but had to pause to catch his breath.
“I want you,” I said. I hadn’t meant to say that, but in the act of letting the words out, I realized it was true. I realized I’d wanted him all along, even as a kid. I remembered that, even after getting out of the boxing class, I’d still snuck to the windows and watched almost every one of the practice matches he’d been in. I remembered that, at the time, I’d told myself I was watching his stance, and the set of his shoulders. “I’ve always wanted you,” I said.