Catch (8 page)

“I’m sorry about that,” she replied, putting
an arm around Miranda’s shoulders. “I hope you’ll talk about me one
day to your own children more than I have about my mother. I feel
bad about that now. She and I might not have had the best
relationship, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk about it.
Since those pictures were stolen, I’ve realized there are other
ways I can preserve her.”

Miranda slipped her arm around her mother and
squeezed as they reached the fountain. “I’ll get them back,
Mom.”

“Hah, nice!” Julia laughed as Michael
Jackson’s “Billy Jean” started playing. Between the lights and the
water shooting up like fireworks against a violet velvet sky,
everybody fell silent.

Miranda’s phone buzzed halfway through.

I saw Ryder today. Ugh! He was with Amber.
Can you believe he’s still with her? She’s a total skank.

Miranda’s heart fell as she realized it
wasn’t Ollie. It was her friend Cammie, who usually only texted her
when drama was happening.

She typed back,
Eh, who cares about them?
I don’t miss him at all.

She wanted to say,
Oh, and I’ve met
someone new …
but she wasn’t sure if that was entirely true.
What exactly was this thing they had going, and why hadn’t he
messaged her today? Especially when he knew she was leaving the day
after tomorrow. Especially when she’d been screwed over by one too
many guys. She had to face the possibility that Ollie could be
another one, simply because she had taken a chance and opened her
heart the tiniest bit. As her history proved, that was always a
mistake.

“I wonder what Grammy thought about men and
love,” Miranda mused as she sat down to breakfast with her family
the next morning. Ollie still hadn’t contacted her, and she was
beginning to worry. Had he gone back to his father? Had the
situation escalated into something worse? Or did he want to call it
quits and sever ties with her? He had seemed so into her when
they’d had coffee together. Maybe she was really bad at reading
body language.

“She was not a romantic, if that’s what
you’re wondering,” Miranda’s mother said as she cut a piece of
French toast. The syrup on the top pooled on the white plate
between each piece. “She loved my father, yes, but I don’t remember
her with stars in her eyes, or ever talking about love in a
passionate way. It seemed very straightforward and logical for
her.”

Julia took a big bite of watermelon then a
sip of orange juice, making Miranda grimace. “That’s kinda sad,”
she said with her mouth full. “I mean, nothing about me and Gavin
is logical.”

“No,” Miranda teased, “it’s all crazy
physical passion for you two, isn’t it?”

Julia smirked and said, “Mmmmm, yes.”

“Just be careful, please,” their father said
with a growl in his voice.

Miranda speared a piece of cantaloupe with
her fork. “I already told her that, Dad. She will be.
Right
,
Julia?”

Julia laughed. “I’m not stupid, you guys. I
know all about the birds and bees. Sheesh!”

“As long as you know,” their mother sighed.
“But mistakes do happen, especially when it comes to that.
Understand?”

“Yes, Mom, I do.”

“Then we’re good.”

And that was that. Miranda chuckled to
herself and ate the rest of her cantaloupe. It was perfectly ripe.
When she was done, she started sipping her coffee and closed her
eyes at the memory of drinking coffee with Ollie. She wanted to
feel like that again. Excited and … illogical. In the past, she had
been like her grandmother. Levelheaded. Logical. She’d avoided
passion like the plague because she was scared of giving too much
of herself away too fast. Then Christian had happened and she’d let
herself slip and fall harder than she’d ever fallen before. But not
for long. Even before the end of her relationship with him, she’d
put her guard back up little by little, letting that logical side
of her take over. But why?
Why
? Julia was passionate with
Gavin and still careful … so far, anyway.

“Was Grammy happy?” she asked her mother.

Gabriela frowned. “You know what, Miranda?”
she said in a droopy voice. “I don’t remember her being the
happiest person in the world. It’s sad when I think about it, but
I’m going to face it and write that memoir anyway.”

Miranda took her time finishing her coffee
then checked her phone once again. No messages. She couldn’t even
call him. She didn’t even know his last name. Maybe if she did a
little research she could find out who his father was, and that
might lead her to him. Or maybe something as illogical and strange
as Ollie was better left behind. She hoped it wasn’t. That might
break her heart more than anything else … and she’d never even
kissed him. Not even close.

At the zoo, Miranda texted
Lions, Tigers,
and Bears
to Ollie, but he didn’t answer. She kept looking
around all day to see if she could spot him, but by dinnertime
she’d given up completely. It was over, she told herself. She was
leaving in the morning, and it was over.

That night, she went to bed with her heart
heavier than it had been in a long time. Once their parents were
asleep, she rolled over and told Julia everything that had
happened. Her sister listened intently, her eyes filling with tears
toward the end.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t even tried to
contact you again,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. You have
the worst luck ever with guys.”

“I know. I’m doomed forever.”

Julia pulled her covers closer and wet her
lips. “I don’t know about that. You don’t really need a man to make
you happy, right? You’ve got college and stuff.”

“Yeah, and who knows what will happen at
school. It just pisses me off, you know? Here I was finally getting
to an okay place after all that crap with Christian happened, and
this guy has to drop into my life. I don’t care if he stole stuff.
He means well, and I doubt he’ll keep doing it.” Her eyes went
distant and Julia’s face turned hazy in her vision. “I know
nobody’s perfect, but he seemed a lot like me. He didn’t want to
feel stuck anywhere, and I get that, you know? I thought it might
turn into something amazing, that’s all. I’m so not like Grammy.
I’m logical, but I want to be a romantic.”

Julia laughed, and her face came back into
focus. “Oh, you’re a romantic. You’re totally falling all over this
guy and you’ve only known him for, like, three days.”

“Yeah,” Miranda sighed. “I guess I am.”

They talked for another hour and then Miranda
went to sleep. She dreamed about a big office building and a shiny
black desk. She dreamed about Ollie sitting in a chair at that
desk, his expression cold and harsh, and a picture of his
tyrannical father hung on the wall in front of him.

The next morning, she packed up her bags. On
their way to the airport, she pulled out her phone and sent one
last message to Ollie.

Airplanes. Last chance.

He didn’t answer.

Miranda hated to admit it, but she cried the
first week away from home. None of her dorm mates seemed homesick.
They were all too busy loving their freedom. There were parties and
guys and alcohol to keep them distracted. Miranda couldn’t seem to
enjoy any of it. She called Julia almost every night and told her
about her classes, her professors, and her party-crazy dorm mates.
Julia listened and sympathized, and then gushed about Gavin.
Neither of them mentioned Ollie, although Miranda had to admit she
looked at her phone more often than she might have otherwise. He
seemed so far away, like a blip in her existence—something bright
and shiny and odd she’d found on the sidewalk one afternoon and
then lost.

Walking to class, she looked around at the
trees changing to orange and red and yellow. No palm trees. No hot,
sticky days filled with casinos and hotels. She had to let him go!
It was harder to do than she thought it would be because she didn’t
know what had happened. It was one thing to have a boyfriend tell
her things were over and everything ended in a final bang. It was
another to have a barely-there relationship drift away from you
like a sailboat on the horizon. Once in awhile she thought she
might try to find it, but it had been long enough for him to
message her again, even if things had escalated with his
father.

She was close to her class now. It was in a
building across from a pretty fountain she loved to sit near and do
her homework sometimes. She rounded the corner and headed into
class. Halfway through, her phone buzzed and she smiled because it
was probably Julia telling her something about Gavin again. The
girl was obsessed with him, and Miranda had to keep telling her
that while it was great to be passionate about him, she still had
to pay attention to school so she could go to college one day
too.

Pulling out her phone, she slid it into her
lap and tried to peek at it so her geology professor didn’t chew
her out and tell her to leave. He hated cell phones in class.

Red brick circle.

She almost choked on her wintergreen gum. It
couldn’t be. It was from a number she didn’t recognize. Not
restricted. As fast as she could, she typed her response.

Do you see palm trees?

A guy who always sat next to her cleared his
throat. When she looked up at him, he nodded at her lap. “You
better put that away,” he whispered.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and
shrugged, as if she had no choice. She really didn’t. She had to
follow this through. The phone vibrated in her lap.

No palm trees right here. Kinda weird.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It was him. He was
back. Maybe he was
here
. Red brick circle. What could he be
talking about?

Are you here on campus?
she typed,
getting more impatient by the second.

“Miranda, I asked you a question,” Professor
King said in a tight-lipped, irritated voice. “Is that a cell phone
you’re using? Because you know the policy.”

She snapped her attention to her professor.
He was tall and gangly and his glasses made him look like a
studious owl. A skinny owl. It was odd. “Yeah, I guess I’ll leave,”
she said quickly, gathering up her books and notepad. She shoved
them into her backpack and stood. “Sorry.”

A few people giggled as she left the
classroom under Professor King’s glare. She knew if he kicked her
out more than twice, she would be asked to leave the class
permanently. If she left too late in the semester, she’d get a
failing grade. It wouldn’t happen again, she told herself as she
exited the building and stood under the warm sun. A breeze rustled
through the autumn leaves, and she breathed it in deeply as she
kept staring at her phone.

You look good today, the next message
said.

Her heart nearly pounded through her chest.
He was here.
Where
? Then she looked across the road and
realized that a circular red brick plaza surrounded the fountain
she loved so much. Where was he?

Hurrying across the crosswalk, she rushed
past a few students and followed a red brick path to the fountain.
There he was, on a bench beneath a shady tree. He was in jeans
instead of a suit, and she might not have recognized him if it
wasn’t for his Las Vegas 51s baseball cap. Her heart continued to
thud as she neared him. Finally, she stood in front of him, and he
looked up at her with a grin spreading across his face. He was
clean-shaven, and she realized she had never actually seen him in
natural lighting before. His eyes were a beautiful clear gray, but
even more intriguing in the sun. They were filled with something
Julia might have described as “moons and stars.” He looked like he
wanted to throw his arms around her, but he was restraining
himself.

“It was really your turn,” he said as she
stared open-mouthed at him, “but I know you’ve probably given up on
me, so I took a chance.”

She wanted to say something, anything, but
couldn’t manage it. She knew she had missed him, but now that he
was in front of her, something felt like it was trying to squeeze
her heart into a diamond. She hadn’t just missed him. She had
mourned the loss of him. She had resigned herself to the fact that
she would never see him again, that he had chosen a life he didn’t
really want, and that if he could make a mistake like that, she
might screw up in her life too. It was all so much bigger than
she’d wanted it to be.

“You’re speechless,” he laughed. “I’m so
sorry. Can I explain?”

She nodded, and he reached into a leather
briefcase beside him on the bench.

“First,” he said softly. “Here are your
pictures.”

She looked down at the thick stack of her
grandmother’s pictures, still secured with the same rubber band as
before.

“Thank you,” she croaked, taking them. “My
mom will be really glad to get these back. I am too. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ve got your purse in my car. I
can get it for you later. Is that all right?”

She nodded and asked, “What happened, Ollie?
It’s been two months. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He hung his head for a minute and slid his
white tennis shoes across the red bricks. “I called my father that
next morning after we had coffee. I told him I wanted to talk to
him about other options, and he said he was open to figuring
something out. Then I told him about the purses and he chewed me
out for ten minutes. He said if I wanted to work under him, I had
to talk to the police about what I’d done.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yeah, all the thefts had been reported
except yours. I haven’t told anyone about yours.”

“What did they make you do? Did you have to
go to jail?”

He shook his head and laughed. “No, like I
told you before, my father wouldn’t let that happen. They told me
if I could pay for the stolen items, I’d be let off. Of course, I
had no money to do that, really. So I had to go back to work for my
father and earn the money. That took me a few weeks. My father made
sure it was a painful process. He had me cleaning bathrooms at the
Bellagio.”