"Why the hell didn't you call me back," Letang yells into the phone. "I was practically in Anne's car getting ready to drive over there to see if you got yourself killed."
"I appreciate your concern," I tell him but it's a lie.
"Don't get like that," he huffs.
"Like what exactly?"
"'I appreciate your concern,'" he mocks my voice but it doesn't sound like me. "Seriously. Is everything okay?"
"Shouldn't you be busy fucking instead of obsessing over me?" I can't help it. I always manage to somehow take things out on him. Besides, this is really all his fault.
"Call me tomorrow," he says and hangs up. He's used to my abuse.
But honestly, I do sort of blame him for these feelings I'm having for a girl I don't know. A crazy girl who has a boyfriend, to boot. If he would have just let it go, I'd be somewhere else right now instead of driving thirty or forty or however many miles home in the pouring rain with a soaking wet passenger seat and dog fur in my backseat. I'd probably sleeping in a bed somewhere with or without arms and legs draped all over me.
Maybe she is actually crazy. I’d never considered that before. Why else would her family treat her like she could break at any moment. Oh what am I talking about? The only thing I do know about her family is that they didn’t find it necessary to tell her that her boyfriend is a pill popper. Well that and her brother’s girl likes to party. I bet she’s a good time in bed, that Rachel. She’s always smiling and she has the right kind of curves in the right places. Why couldn’t I have caught her in an awkward moment? Not only would I be in a different place right now, I’d be in a different state of mind too.
-------------
“Who was that,” my father’s voice startles me.
He’s sitting on his chair in the living room with a book in his lap. He won’t admit it, but he’s been waiting up for me. He’s done it all my life.
“That,” I sit on the coffee table. Lucky sits at my father’s feet. “Was Jordan Staal.” What’s the point in lying?
“Oh,” is all he says but it has a question mark at the end.
“Yeah. He said he was coming by to make sure I was okay,” I try to laugh like I think it was stupid of him to come by but it comes out more like I think he’s a prince in a fairy tale.
“And why would you not be okay?” He’s not prying. He already knows.
“Does Ben tell you everything,” I try to sound irritated but I’m not.
“Yes.”
“Danny got mad at Anne and made her get out of the car. Jordan had to take her home,” I sigh.
“That was nice of him,” he says simply and picks up his book. He just looks down and goes back to pretending he’s reading.
“Dad?”
“mm hmm,” he doesn’t look up.
“Do you think I should break up with Danny?”
“Probably,” he says like he’s been waiting for me to ask.
“Well you didn’t even hesitate. Why didn’t you say anything before,” I ask softly and look down at my fingernails. They need re-painted. The soft pink polish is starting to peel.
“Is everything okay?” Still not looking at me.
“Yeah,” I pick at my nail polish. “I mean, not really but he hasn’t hit me or anything.”
“Is that the line,” he asks and finally puts his book back down and looks at me.
“What? I don’t understand the ques…”
“Is that the line?” He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “The line that he has to cross before you break up with him. You won’t break up with him unless he hits you?”
“No,” I’m becoming quite confused and starting to think I’m dreaming. “No, I mean, there are other lines.”
“You’re allowed to not be in love with him, Caroline,” my mother’s voice says from the stairs.
I sigh heavily and cover my face with my hands.
“I do love him.” It comes out muffled through my palms.
“You’re soaking wet,” my mother observes.
“I like the rain.”
“She likes the rain.”
We say it at the same time, me and my father.
“Well you still need to dry off when you come in the door,” she says and turns to go back up the steps. I hear drawers opening in my bedroom.
My dad leans back in his chair and Lucky puts his head on his leg.
“You can love somebody without being in love with them,” my father says as he’s rubbing Lucky behind his ears.
“I know, but…”
“But what?” My mother asks from the stairs. She tosses a pair of pajamas at me. Capris and a buttoned shirt. She always buys me pajamas and I don’t usually wear them. I prefer t-shirts and shorts or sweats. I play with the buttons on the top. “There’s no but here. We didn’t tell you something we should have told you because we wanted to protect him.” She snips out ‘him’ in the same way she said Claudia’s name like its poison.
“What happened,” I ask them, pulling at the threads that hold the buttons on.
“Before or after he tried to kill himself,” my father asks in a whisper.
“He didn’t…” I start to protest
“He did!” My mother shouts.
“So you keep things from me because you think I’m going to start taking pills too? I’m not that sheeplike!”
“Yes, you are!” My mother shouts some more.
“Caroline,” my father says calmly. “Olivia…”
“No,” I stand and throw the pajamas on the couch in one swift motion. “For the ten millionth time, I will not try to kill myself if I get upset. I get mad. I break things. I cry. I can’t live in bubble wrap because I get upset sometimes. If things don’t work out with Danny, I’ll find another guy that things won’t work out with. I’ll be fine. It’s the fucking circle of life or whatever.”
My dad smiles at me. “That’s not what that is.”
“For her it is,” my mother says and goes to the kitchen. “I’m making tea.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” I call after her.
My dad winks at me and shakes his head. I puff out my cheeks and blow out air.
“I should move out,” I tell him and watch his eyes go wide.
“No,” he pats my knee and stands. “You should not.” And he goes into the kitchen. Lucky starts to follow him but stops and looks back at me.
I wave him on and start toward the kitchen behind him.
“We can’t keep having these conversations where nobody ever says anything. I’m an adult. I can find a job and move out,” I say casually and sit at the table.
My mother scoffs and my father taps her on the butt with his book. Then he comes over to the table and sits beside me.
“You, my little angel,” he takes my hands in his, “are still in school and you have to save up some money before you can…”
“I’ll find a roommate,” I plead. “And I’m quitting school.”
Neither of them says anything. They’re not surprised.
“Maybe I’ll go back at a later date.” I wait for a protest but none come. “Maybe I can move in with Rachel until I find a place of my own.”
My mother still hasn’t turned from the stove. My father now has his arms crossed on the table and he’s buried his head.
“Am I talking to myself?”
Lucky barks on cue.
“I just don’t want to have this conversation right now,” my dad says like he’s exasperated.
The teapot whistles.
------------
She left her hoodie in my car. I carry it inside with me and toss it onto the couch. Then I just climb in my bed still wearing all my clothes and lay there staring at the ceiling. I should call Letang back. I don’t mean to be such an ass to him all the time. He’s just so easy to be mean to for some reason. He gets it though. He knows I’m not mad at him. I should start taking out my frustrations on Engelland. Maybe he’d just punch me to shut me up. Or Orpik. Yeah maybe Orpik. I’ll call Tanger in the morning. I’ll set my alarm so I can call him before he calls me. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to call and wake me up. I’m not always very pleasant when somebody wakes me up.
It’d probably be a good idea to find some ice tomorrow. Lacing up my skates should help my mood. Not that I’m in a bad mood or anything like that; I just need to focus on things I can control. I get a feeling it’d be pretty tough to try to control what’s going to happen or not going to happen with Carly.
My phone rings and I have a quick debate over whether or not I’m going to answer it. But it’s Tanger, so I do.
“Hey man, sorry,” I say when I answer.
“Hi,” he says questioningly. “Sorry for what?”
“For being such an ass,” I climb out of bed and go to the kitchen.
“Oh,” he hesitates. “That’s fine. Anne said she thought you should be home by now.”
“So you’re checking up on me,” I say teasingly.
“Yeah. Sorry man. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely. I know you were tired and that’s a drive.”
“Don’t apologize, Tanger. I appreciate your concern.” I remember our last conversation. “Truly. I do appreciate it.”
“You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me harping on you about her so much,” he says softly.
“Mess? I’m not in a mess. I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. You know how it is; sometimes you just want something that’s out of reach.” I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and hop up on the counter.
“Out of reach,” he questions.
“Yeah, you know, she has a boyfriend and they seem good together. As soon as I get her sweatshirt back to her…”
“Why do you have her sweatshirt?”
“She left it in my car,” I answer simply.
“Why was she in your car?”
“Oh I guess I didn’t tell you about my visit with her…”
“No, you were too busy being huffy,” he laughs.
“Her dog liked me instantly so we went to the backyard to play and then we went to the lake.”
“You and the dog?” Kris laughs at his own joke.
“And Carly,” I reply.
“And?”
“And what?” I know what he’s getting at but I’m a jerk, so I make him ask specifically.
“What happened? What was the conversation about? Was there flirting?” There’s a lot of rustling on his end of the phone so I have a feeling Anne is listening in now.
“Nothing really happened. We sat on a bench then it started to rain so I drove her back.”
“You didn’t talk at all,” he prods.
“A bit… about anchors and stuff… nothing really. Can we talk tomorrow? I’ll call you when I wake up.” I’m not getting into it with Anne listening.
“Sure,” he says. He sounds relieved. He probably doesn’t want to talk with her listening either. “I’ll probably be home by the time you wake up,” he laughs.
“Take it easy on Anne tonight,” I tell him. “Or tell her to take it easy on you. I want to get on ice tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea,” he says dreamily. Nobody loves the ice more than Kris. Well except maybe Sid.
------------
The next two days fly by and before I know it, it’s Tuesday and the boys are supposed to come by to work out with Danny. I want to get my hoodie from Jordan but I don’t know how I’d explain that to Danny. Not that I’m even sure he’s still speaking with me. I haven’t talked to him since we got home Saturday night.
I spent most of Sunday hanging with Lucky. I gave him a bath and walked him around the lake. In the evening he lay on my bed and listened to me talk about Jordan. I’d been thinking about him all day and I had to tell somebody how I was feeling. There is something natural about being with him. Sharing the step with him in the back yard, the bench at the lake and the front of his car; it all felt very comfortable.
Yesterday, I spent the day quitting school. That felt natural and comfortable too. I’ll find a job and volunteer at the animal shelter. I talked to Rachel about moving in with her until I could afford my own place. She loved the idea. She loved the idea so much she drove over after work with a bunch of boxes. She has an extra bedroom that is actually used as an extra bedroom. A spare for when guests stay over. Most people, I thought, turned those into “offices” or “gyms”. I’ve stayed there several times after too much drinking or after she had a fight with Ben or I fought with my parents. Actually, I’ve stayed there so often, the room is practically mine already. Our plan is to bring Lucky along and convince the landlord later that he’s no worse than a small dog (her townhouse allows cats and small dogs) and certainly better than a cat. I’m hoping that by the time it’s a problem, if it becomes one, I’ll have plans to move out already.
My parents aren’t exactly thrilled with me quitting school but they didn’t try to stop me. They know there’s no use. They convinced me to wait until the weekend to move out. They’re not exactly thrilled about that either but they know I have to grow up. I have to “learn to be responsible” and yadda yadda yadda. It’s been a while since my mother has said that to me but I know she still thinks it all the time. They spoil me so I think she sometimes blames herself that I’m a loser.
I finish getting dressed and look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to look like I put a lot of effort into what I look like. Sometimes that takes work. Grey cut-off sweatpants, white t-shirt, white flip flops, my hair pulled carefully into a messy ponytail, and makeup carefully applied to make my skin look naked. I grab my lip balm and head out the door.
I start the walk through the woods and realize I have no idea how I will be greeted by my boyfriend.
