Authors: Kate Channing
Maddie
Super Fancy
“Are you going to eat that?” Kyle points at the gruesome brown shells filled with rubbery jelly sitting on a plate in front of me.
My nose scrunches. “Most definitely not.” I poke one of the shells with my fork. “This is escargot?”
“Yes. Snails.” He covers his mouth with a hand. And I glare.
“That’s disgusting.” I lean across the small table. “They even smell bad.”
He doesn’t hide his laughter this time. “I know. I can smell them from here.”
“Well, why did you let me order them?”
He shrugs. “I thought you knew what you were doing.” He raises his eyes and lifts a hand. A waiter dressed in black pants, a white shirt, red bow tie, and red vest comes over.
“Yes, sir?”
Kyle picks up the plate of snails and hands them to the waiter. “Please take these away. The lady,” he indicates me, “has changed her mind.”
The waiter nods. “No problem, Mr. Hadley.” He takes the plate and turns to me. “Would you care for anything else?”
“No, thank you. I’m good.” I can’t help fiddling with the napkin in my lap, folding and unfolding it.
“Very well.” He walks away.
“You sure you don’t want something else?” Kyle places an outstretched hand on the table and wiggles his fingers. He’s asking if he can hold my hand, and I happ
ily comply. His fingers entwine with mine, making my skin prickle, my whole body vibrate. It’s as though nothing else exists but his hand and mine. “Maddie?”
I snap out of it. “Huh?”
He snickers. “Nothing.” His thumb is caressing my inner wrist. “What do you think of this place?”
“It’s nice,” I say, clearing my throat.
A little too nice
, I don’t add. It’s super fancy. Thick white linen tablecloths cover each rounded table. Large centerpieces filled with red roses adorn each table. The silver is real. The plates are made of china. And the napkins are thicker than my bath towels. A ten-piece orchestra is playing softly off to the right. They’ve just started playing
Pachelbel Canon in D
. The bass begins, then the violins and violas along with the cello. A beautiful round of notes. I can’t help but close my eyes and listen. Even though this piece of music is considered mainstream classical, it’s always been one of my favorites. I focus on each note. The violins play staccato on the E string while the viola and second violins continue the recurring round.
The gut wrenching pain in my stomach that never fully goes away calms slightly. I take a deep breath. Kyle squeezes my hand, and I open my eyes.
“Everything okay?” His brows are pinched together. Worry presses his lips into a frown.
“Yes, just listening. I love this song.”
He wipes his mouth. “I like it too.”
A different
waiter brings our main course. He seems familiar. “Here you are.” He sets a plate in front of me. Kyle moves his appetizer. It was a minestrone soup. The waiter places a plate in front of him. “Would you like some fresh Parmesan on your Chicken Marsala?” he asks me politely.
“Sure.”
He begins grating. “Tell me when.”
“That’s good,” I say after a few spins of the grater.
“And for you, sir?”
“No thanks, Evan.” Kyle smirks. “You’re
really laying it on thick, cuz.”
Evan’s
eyes go wide. He looks at me. “I can’t believe you’re little Maddie Martin. Pudgy Mudgy. You used to be a little plump around the middle. Not any more though. You’re stunning.”
I look away, down at my plate. Heat is rising up my neck and covering my cheeks. A lot of kids called me Pudgy
Mudgy. One thing about going to school in Bellam Springs I don’t miss. And I remember Evan. Never did like him. But for Kyle’s sake, I try to be nice. “Thanks, I guess.” I pick up my fork and spin it in my noodles.
“That’ll be all
, Evan.” I hear the controlled anger in Kyle’s voice.
“Come on. I just—”
“Get out of here and leave us alone,” Kyle snarls, keeping his voice low. “Or I’m going to tell Uncle you’re being a pain in the ass.”
I glance up just in time to see Evan
grind his jaws. “Fine.” He walks away. I watch, wondering about him. He looks like he’s about our age, but I can’t remember him. He seems to know who I am, though.
I glance at Kyle, admiring him. He’s wearing dark jeans, a gray shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a navy blue jacket. He looks exquisite, just not as dressed up as everyone else. Everyone seems to know him, and I wonder if he brings all of his dates here. I push that away. I heard his anger when he spoke to Evan. Kyle protecting me. I can’t help but like it, like the way it warms my insides, makes me feel cared for. I’m going to focus on that.
“Sorry about my cousin,” Kyle says, playing with my hand still lying on the table. “Do you remember him?”
I shrug. “Kind of.”
“He’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”
“I’m sure,” I say, pulling my hand away. The way his cousin
acted, so flippant about the awful nickname, I don’t buy it. I’m not sure I’m ready to be back in Kyle’s world. Even as much as I want to be with him. Maybe it isn’t a good idea.
“Okay, yeah, he’s pretty much always an asshole. I just never really noticed until now.” He cuts into his dinner, sticks
some in his mouth, and chews.
I follow
him: cut a piece of chicken, pick up some noodles, and take a bite. “Mmmmm.”
“Seriously. Uncle Ryan runs the best restaurant in Wyoming.”
I nod. Swallow, and focus on my plate. Talk of his family is making me uncomfortable.
“Do I hear my name being spoken in vain?” A man with dark hair, silver dusting his sideburns, and dark eyes walks up to the table. He’s an older version of Evan with a little paunch. His forehead is broad and his face is stern.
Kyle stands, clapping his uncle on the back. The man does the same to Kyle. I try to smile, but don’t quite make it. My heart starts to race. Something about him seems familiar.
Finally they stop embracing and his uncle turns to me. My breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure why. He sticks out his hand.
“You must be Maddie Martin. I’m Ryan Hadley. Nice to meet you.” He has an easy smile and a deep timber to his voice. I’ve heard his voice somewhere before, but I’m not sure where.
I rise, and take his outstretched hand. It’s warm. “Nice to meet you too.”
His smile falters slightly, and he drops my hand. “I’ll let the two of you get back to your dinner.”
“Thanks,” Kyle says
. “The food is delicious, as always.”
Kyle’s uncle
turns his gaze on me and I see a flicker of coldness in his eyes. “You didn’t like the escargot?”
I glance at Kyle for help. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it
; I didn’t even try it. My stomach roiled at the thought. Kyle steps in. “She didn’t know what it was. I should’ve told her. It’s my fault.”
His uncle
raises a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, boy. Think nothing of it.” He gives me a final glance before walking away.
I feel my head tilt in confusion and
I sit. Kyle does the same. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“Don’t worry. My uncle is a little on the odd side.” He shrugs and goes back to his food.
I try to do the same, but it tastes like powder.
“Why did you start playing the piano?” Kyle asks as though everything is normal.
I want it to be normal. I do. He’s asked a standard question. Lots of people have asked the same one over the years. None were Kyle though. The son of a murderer. The reason I no longer live with my parents. Never got a chance to have my father teach me to drive, or my mom talk to me about a first date—first anything.
My hands shake and my bottom lip trembles. I stand, knocking my chair over. “I-I-I
have to go.” I throw napkin on the table.
Kyle stands, shock on his face.
I can’t do this. Why did I think I could?
I push past waiters and patrons. Brush past
Kyle’s uncle and fall out the front door. The night air is cold and I bend over. Putting my hands on my knees, I inhale deep breaths, like a fish out of water.
And that’s what I am.
I don’t know how I thought dating Kyle, or kissing Kyle, or almost doing other things with Kyle, would be okay. It isn’t.
Kyle steps out, hands on his hips. “What the hell, Maddie?” I scan his
face, recognize the frustration in the lines and furrows. He reminds me vaguely of his uncle. When his eyes find mine his face relaxes, replaced by concern. “Hey, are you alright?”
I want to remain calm, but I’m not. “No, I’m not okay.” I walk away, but turn back, running into his outstretched arms.
“Why not? Did I do something?”
“Yes! No.” I sag in his arms. “You don’t understand.”
He kisses the side of my head. With those lips. Gorgeous lips. “Tell me, then.” I press my head against his chest and breathe him in. He smells like aftershave and clean laundry and garlic. “Maddie?”
“Ugh, it’s nothing.” I can’t tell him. I don’t want him to know I think his dad is a murderer. I don’t want him to feel bad. “I’m just tired.”
“Come on, let me take you home.”
“
’kay.”
He drives me to Irvine Hall. After he puts the Jeep in park, he runs around to my side and opens my door.
Then he kisses me. A quick but tender kiss. I can’t help but lean into him. Kiss him back.
“You’re a quick study,” Kyle says, smiling.
I perk up. “Ya think?”
“I know.” He taps the tip of my nose with his finger. I get the implication behind his words. He knows because he’s made out with a lot of girls. I’m not sure whether to think he’s complimented or insulted me. He kisses me again, this time longer, and I wrap my arms around his waist.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lover Girl. Should we meet in the practice room at five? Professor Jenkins gave us a standing reservation.”
I quickly scan through my day. “I’d like that.
But don’t call me Lover Girl. Please.”
“Fine
. I’ll stick with Freckles, even though they seem to have vanished.” He walks away, then turns back.
I try to think of a quick come back.
When we were young I called him Brace Face and Frizz Head. Neither of those apply any longer. Words like “hottie” and “gorgeous” enter my mind. But then, like he said, the small smattering of freckles that used to adorn my face are gone. Then I get a stroke of genius.
“I guess Freckles is better. See
ya, Pretty Boy.”
He busts out laughing.
“By the way, I have your music. From the other day. I’ll bring it.” He winks.
I’d completely forgotten a
bout the music. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kyle
“She seems nice,” Evan says, closing his apartment door. He zips his jacket, pulls out a pack of cigarettes, flicks the lighter, and ignites one. The air is freezing, the sky clear, and millions of stars shine overhead. Even the Milky Way is visible. Evan inhales and exhales, walks over to the old balcony, and leans his elbows on it.
“She is.” I take up space
next to him, stealing the cigarette from his hand and taking a drag. There’s no need to clarify. I know he’s talking about Maddie. I take another drag and hand it back, enjoying the mellow buzz that steals over my body.
“But,”
Evan inhales, “she seems like a lot of drama.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “That she is.”
“So why the fuck are you putting up with it?” His eyes narrow and he searches my face. “You’ve got girls lining up to be with you. Hell, Baby and Beth ask me about you at least once a day.” He shakes his head. “I don’t get it.” He hands me the cigarette.
I
take a drag, blow it out. “She...” I close my eyes. Remember all the times she was there for me growing up. The way she took care of me. I never had a mother, and with Maddie around I didn’t miss her. At least not that much.
Now that we’re grown, it’s not about the way she took care of me. It’s about the hurt I see in her face. The way she tries to hide it, block it away, and I feel this undeniable need to be there for her. Like she’s the Earth, and I’m bound
to her by gravity. Even if I'd wanted to break away, I can’t. There’s something inside me, holding me to her.
“Dude.” He shoves his shoulder into mine.
I run my hands through my hair. Open my eyes, and stare out at nothing.
“The bitch didn’t return a phone call. Not a single letter.” He flicks the died-out cigarette from my fingers.
I watch it fall to the pavement below. “You know how, after my father died, I was kind of a wreck? Drugs. Drinking. Doing shit I shouldn’t.”