Random (Going the Distance) (6 page)

I wish my mother really was here.

I get these dreams a lot, where she comes to visit for a little while. She always hugs me. She always cooks for me. She often says that I shouldn’t worry about her, that we all live forever and we’ll be together again.

I had psychology my senior year, and I know what the dreams mean. My subconscious is trying to comfort me, and it’s not a big surprise I have the dreams when I’ve had a bad day. But I also like to think they’re real in a way, that she really is coming to see me.

After a while my bladder is screaming. I pad through the house in my t-shirt and underwear, getting a pang when I pass the spot where my mom stood to cook for me. I also wish I had a fridge full of bacon and waffles and eggs. There might be a yogurt and some milk in there if I’m lucky. I will have to spend some of my minuscule pile of cash on some groceries. As I pee and brush my teeth, I try to think of the best way to maximize the amount. Ramen noodles. Somebody always has ten for a dollar. A box of powdered milk for my tea. Eggs from somewhere.

It’s going to hurt to miss that meal from Billy’s every work day.

I make a cup of tea, trying not to think about Rick or the fact that there are no messages on my phone. I don’t have time to worry about him, anyway. I have to get to the library and grab a computer before the rush starts, find out who might need waitresses. There are places I’d like to work that go on my mental list, and I’ll see what else there is.

I also have to wash some clothes. That will only take four dollars, because Electra has given me permission to use her clothesline and I don’t have to dry my laundry in the machine.

Carrying my tea outside to the garden, I wander through the rows of strong-looking vegetables and edgings of herbs. The lavender is starting to bloom and, as Electra has taught me, I bend and bruise a leaf, bring my fingers to my nose. It’s a calming scent, she says, and I don’t know if it’s the smell of fresh air or the garden or the lavender, but I feel like I can face the day.

Maybe I’ll even Google my other dad.

* * *

I’m almost out of time on the computer—they only give you 55 minutes—when a text comes in on my phone. I’ve filed for unemployment and filled out seven applications and I’m on the eighth when I feel it buzz against my leg. I have to finish filling out the last application before I look at it. The librarian is giving me the evil eye, and I put my head down, type in the last three answers as fast as I can and hit send. I close the program so some creepy person can’t come after me and read my email, then jump up.

An older guy shuffles over and takes my seat. Tucking my papers under my arm, I pull out my phone to check the text.

How r u holding up? (From Ty)

A zing goes through my blood. Tyler! Walking toward the fiction stacks, I text back:

Ok. U?

I’m not sure what I’m in the mood to read, so I wander through the shelves, head tilted sideways. I’ve been on a classics kick. Last month it was Steinbeck,
Call of the Wild
and
The Wayward Bus
. Of course, I read other stuff in between—all kinds of fiction, from werewolves and vampires to romances, and even sometimes a thriller or two. I’ll pretty much read everything but westerns. Hard to get romantic about the Old West, in my opinion, but that’s just me. Whenever there’s a blizzard here, I wonder how anyone survived. I don’t have a TV, and my phone doesn’t get the internet. I read like other people watch TV, long and short, happy and sad, whatever.

Or that’s what I tell people, anyway. Honestly, I just
like
reading. It’s more private to read than to watch something. Even when I was a little kid, I liked diving between the covers of a book into somebody else’s life. Now it’s my lifeline.

Considering that my life weighs a billion pounds right now, I’m not in the mood for anything heavy. I pull down a glitzy paperback about an artist in the twenties and a romance set in Greece. By the time my phone buzzes again I have five books. A mystery, a romance, the artist one, and a couple of others that just look like they’ll take me somewhere else.

At the end of the display is a bunch of travel guides. As if my mom is pointing, there’s one on New Zealand and, just in case she’s really talking to me from the other side, I add it to my stack.

I carry the books to the check out line, and my phone gives a second buzz to remind me that I haven’t read the text . I bide my time. I don’t want him to think I’m too eager. While I wait my turn, I pull out the phone.

U free for lunch today maybe? I’m off.

A burble of nerves rolls through my belly and up through my spine. Grinning, I text back.
  Make it waffles and I’m in.  

When? Where?

I’m checking out books downtown library. Be home in 20.

Wait! I’m downtown now. Came to pick up my check. I’ll be outside the lib in two minutes.

“Miss?” a lady says behind me. “Your turn.”

I can’t hide my grin as I whirl around. “Oops! Sorry.”

As quick as I can, I demagnetize the books and hurry out. It occurs to me that I’m not going to want to feed more coins to the meter, so maybe I should just have had him meet me at home after all. It brings back the tense feeling in my chest that’s been there all morning. There weren’t that many jobs listed, and least not many I’m qualified to do. I could work retail, but minimum wage is just not enough by itself.

I’m biting my lip, thinking about this, when I hear a whistle. Not a sexy one but an “over here” type. A black Audi is pulling up to the curb, a two-door with a sunroof that confirms that he’s out of my league.

Tyler’s waving a hand toward me, the sun catching his brown and gold hair, and my feet carry me over. I lean down to look at him through the open window. “Hey.”

“Hop in,” he says, moving things to the back seat. I’ve forgotten how beautiful his mouth is, like something I would draw or dream up. Looking at it makes me touch my tongue to my own lips quickly.

“I don’t want to pay for more parking.” I say. “You want to follow me home and I’ll park there?”

His eyes catch the light, too, the pupils nearly disappearing as he looks up. It leaves the iris a field of ocean blue and meadow green, almost eerily beautiful. Mesmerizing. “I can, if you want. Or we can just swing by your car and put some quarters in the meter. My treat.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He smiles. “I can spare a dollar. I’m pretty sure you can’t.”

“True enough.” Relieved, I open the door and climb in. The smell of leather and a recent car wash greets me. Test #1 passed—his car is clean. I hate messy cars with junk all over them. “Nice car,” I say lightly, as if I ride in Audis all the time.

“Thanks,” he says. “I like it.” He frowns at me. “Did you get that black eye during the accident?

I touch it, unwilling to explain the insanity last night. “Crazy, right?” It covers my bases without actually lying.

“Sorry to hear it.” His hand rests on the gear shift. The hair on his muscular forearm glitters against his tan skin, and I want to put my hand on it, brush my fingers over that hair. “Waffles, you say?”

I meet his eyes and something hot and quick and real arcs between us, so intense it almost makes a sound. I can feel it all the way down my back, sizzling and popping. “Yes, please.”

His gaze slips to my mouth, stays there for a second, comes back to my eyes. “I know just the place.”

Then he’s shifting, looking over his shoulder and pulling into traffic. As the wind starts to dance in my hair, I pull it into a twist over my shoulder and feel something soaring inside me.

* * *

He takes me to Manitou Springs, a hippie suburb on the skirts of Pikes Peak. It’s packed with tourists, and we have to circle a few times to find a parking place, then he leads me to a hole in the wall restaurant on the lower level of an old house. The walls are covered with flowered red wallpaper, and the tables and chairs don’t match. A woman in a blue t-shirt dress and curly hair comes over. “Creekside?” she says to Tyler, like she knows him.

“Please.” His hand touches the middle of my back as I go in front.

We sit beneath an umbrella on a shaded patio overlooking the creek that races through town. A sign on a tree nearby gives directions on how to get out of the way of a flash flood. “That’s creepy,” I say, pointing. “Where would we go?”

“Up,” he says, pointing behind us. “They’ve been doing drills. We’d just run across the street and up the steps.” His eyes shine as he looks at me. “But today we’re probably all right.”

“Good to know.” The menu is one laminated sheet. Breakfast at the top, lunch on the bottom. My mouth waters as I look at each item, calculating how much I can get on one plate without looking greedy. I worry for a second that he might not have meant he was going to pay, but then I remember that he took care of my parking. I’m safe.

In my pocket, my phone vibrates. “Sorry, I have to look,” I say, pulling it out. “I’ve applied for a million jobs today.”

“That’s fine.”

It’s not a job, though. It’s Rick. I put it back in my pocket.

Tyler says something, but I’m lost in the choice between the Cottonwood Special and the Miner’s Breakfast. “Hmm?”

His chuckle is low and kind. “I’ll wait. I can see you’re a woman on a mission.”

I slap the menu down. “Nope, I’ve decided on the Miner’s Breakfast.” Waffle, bacon, eggs
and
hash browns. Value for the dollar.

The server comes by and takes our orders. I want coffee with mine, even if it’s hot out. When she leaves, I sigh. “That’s the thing I’m going to miss about my old job. Great coffee by the bucketful.”

He folds his hands over his flat belly, stretching his legs out in front of him. I can’t help but imagine how that belly looks without the t-shirt covering it. Is he as tan on his tummy as he is on his arms?

“Have you seen your friend?” he asks. “Do you know how things went with her crushed arm?”

“No. I tried this morning.” I pick up a spoon and turn it end over end. “They wouldn’t let me in. They won’t even tell me what her injuries are or anything. She’s in intensive care, though. That’s pretty bad, right?” It gives me a sick feeling to think about it.

“Maybe,” he says with a slight shrug. “Maybe they just need to keep an eye on her. Don’t worry more than you have to.” He inclines his head. “Did you see the paper this morning?

“No, was the accident in there?”

He takes his phone out and brings up the screen. He flips through something, then hands it over.

The phone is much lighter than I would have thought, and warm from his hand. Sunshine is on the screen so I can’t see it, and I have to turn sideways to get it in the shadows. There’s a photo of the car sticking out of the restaurant. In memory, I suddenly see Virginia, her bloody arm mangled and hanging loose as they brought her out, and my stomach roils dangerously. I hand the phone back. “I…no…I can’t.”

“Sorry.” He leans forward and touches my shoulders, gently soothing. “It was pretty fucking violent. You must be feeling shaken.”

For a dangerous moment I really want to cry. The contrast between Tyler and Rick is so gigantic that I feel like the world’s biggest idiot for ever liking Rick at all. With effort, I pull myself under control. Swallow. “I’m okay. Thanks. I just really want to find out about Virginia.”

“Maybe we can go by there again on the way back to your car.”

I look at him for a long minute. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

A strange expression crosses his face, half-longing, half-bemusement, like he doesn’t exactly know himself. “You seem like you could use a friend.”

Friend.
I’ve been totally misinterpreting this whole thing. Of course. My ears get hot as I think of how I’ve been flirting with him. I must seem like a kid to him, and he’s clearly got some money and—

“Jess,” he says, quietly, and his finger draws a pale line down the flesh of my inner arm.

The feather touch sends ripples through me. I’m too embarrassed to look at him, and he draws a circle in my palm, which to my complete horror makes my nipples hard. Can he see through my shirt? I close my eyes.

“Hey,” he says, quietly. “Can I tell you something?”

I nod.

“You have to look at me.”

I raise my eyes. Again I’m snared in the blue heat of those irises, but now the pupils are big and dark.

“I waited twenty-four hours to text you because I didn’t want to look too eager.” His finger spirals around my palm, tickling and arousing.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “What about that boyfriend of yours?”

I lift my shoulders and let them drop. Sliding him a sideways glance from under my eyelashes, I say, “We broke up last night.”

“Huh,” he says, and smiles very slowly. A locked door opens in my chest and glitter pours through my veins like a magic potion. “Good.”

The server brings coffee and two tall, thin glasses of red juice. “House special this morning is watermelon juice. Enjoy.”

I raise my eyebrows and pick up the glass. “Have you ever had it before?”

“I come here quite a bit. I live close by.”

“In Manitou?” I test the juice, and it’s not only delicious, it’s one of the top five things I’ve ever tasted. I gulp a big mouthful. “Oh, my God, that’s amazing!” I close my eyes, sip again. “So refreshing.” I narrow my eyes. “Is there cucumber in it?”

Tyler grins, watching me. “Whoa, there, Ms. Top Chef.”

I blush and put the glass down. “Sorry. Got carried away. People always give me a hard time about that.”

“People?”

I shrug, but I’m pretty sure he knows I mean Rick. The whole band. I think of Jake last night, calling me a cunt, and my throat fills up with acid. Why have I put up with them for so long?

Tyler puts a hand on my arm, his thumb falling to my inner wrist like he’s going to take my pulse. “I shouldn’t have teased you about your palate. I meant it in a good way.” His thumb moves. “You make me a little nervous.”