From What I Remember (51 page)

o, Langs, where you going, G?” Jesse Stern asks me as I brush past him and Charlie.

“Looking for someone,” I say.

Charlie doesn’t say anything. He knows what I’m doing, who I’m looking for. Thankfully, he doesn’t offer his opinion. It took me a while to untangle myself from the crowd, and I’m still reeling from my conversation with Lily, but I have to catch Kylie before she leaves.

“You coming to the beach with us, homes?” Jesse asks. “Gonna catch some breaks.”

Jesse Stern, nice Jewish boy from La Jolla who thinks he’s a gangster. Wonder if he’ll keep up the game at Amherst.

“I’ll meet you there. Wanna hang with my dad for a while this afternoon.”

“’Kay. Peace out,” Jesse says.

I head toward the parking lot. Charlie jogs to catch up with me.

“You think this is a good idea, dude?” he asks. Guess I’m going to hear his opinion, like it or not.

“Honestly, I dunno.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.…She’s a great girl. But serious. Major serious. The girl is going to want you to commit. You really want to do that this summer?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot.”

“Maybe let it ride for a while.”

“I know that’s what I should do. But I don’t want to.” And then I head for the parking lot, leaving Charlie standing on the lawn.

He’s right. I should let it go. I’m moving on from Lily. I haven’t been single in almost a year. I should mess around. And I’ve got a ton of shit to figure out this summer. The last thing I need is to throw myself into a relationship. What am I doing? I stop for a minute and just stare out at the parking lot. Is this a mistake?

I don’t think so. I can’t get this girl out of my head.

As I step into the parking lot, I see Kylie getting into an old Honda Civic.

“Kylie!” I call out.

She doesn’t seem to hear me as she climbs into the car and closes the door. The car pulls out, and I charge after it like a lunatic.

“KYLIE, WAIT…” People standing nearby look at me like I’ve lost my mind. But I don’t care.

The car makes a left onto Prospect and picks up speed.

“KYLIE…KYLIE…” She never turns around. The car disappears around the corner. It’s a losing battle. I stop and walk back to the parking lot.

Did she hear me as I was running after her, screaming at the top of my lungs like some pathetic dude from one of those lame chick flicks? I think so. But what can I do about it? Not much. I fucked up this morning.

I wander back through the parking lot. People look at me out of the corner of their eyes, wondering what’s up. What’s up is I’ve fallen for a girl who just majorly blew me off. That was humiliating, everyone. I get it, trust me. I’ve crossed over into this other world where I’m doing things I never would have done in the world I come from.

I’m making my way back to campus when Luca Sonneban approaches me.

“Hey, Max. How’s it going?”

I like Luca; he’s been a buddy for years, but I’m not really in the mood to shoot the shit right now.

“Pretty good.”

Luca looks down at his feet and thrusts his hands into his pockets.

“I was just making sure you’re cool, you know, with me and Lily.”

What? I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“You and Lily?”

“Uh, yeah. We’re gonna go to Charlie’s party tonight. I thought, I don’t know, I thought you knew. You guys broke up, right?”

How is it possible that in the span of twenty minutes Lily and I broke up, the news traveled around the world, and she and Luca are now together? Whatever. The truth is I don’t care. At least I know she’ll be okay tonight. I don’t have to worry about her.

“Yeah, we broke up. She’s all yours, man.”

“Okay, cool, ’cause I wouldn’t want to—”

“We’re cool, Luca, don’t worry.” I just want him to go away.

“All right, I’ll catch you later.” Luca shuffles off, relieved, I’m sure.

I pull out my phone to text Kylie. One last play. And then I remember her phone’s dead. Damn. Why must this be so hard? Maybe it’s not meant to be. What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico.

I see Will, Juan, two younger girls who must be Will’s sisters, and their parents getting into a massive Range Rover. That is some serious gas the Bixbys are guzzling.

“Hey, Will,” I say. “Did I ever thank you for coming to Mexico?”

“Not that I can recall,” Will says.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Well, it didn’t do much good since I couldn’t actually give you a ride home.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was cool of you to come.”

“I did it for Kylie.”

“I know.”

“You know, Max, I saw your photographs.…”

“Where?”

“In your room. When I was getting your passport. You’re good. Annoyingly good.”

“Dude, you snooped through my room?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Will…” Juan chastises.

“I know. I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry about the mirror.”

“What mirror?”

“You’ll see it when you get home,” Will promises.

Great. Can’t wait. Man, Will Bixby is a freak.

“I like her, Will,” I blurt out. Because, really, why else would I be standing here talking to him? It’s not like we bonded in Mexico. I need help and he’s the guy. Plain and simple.

“I know,” he says. And that’s it.

I wait for a minute, but he doesn’t say anything else. Damn, I am really having to work for it here. This is not my thing. So not my thing.

“What should I do, man? I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.…” I’m getting a little desperate. I know he can hear it in my voice. I need to pull it back. Get my shit together. This girl is running me through the ringer. I’m starting to think I don’t need this. Or her. Or her crazy friend.

Suddenly Will lets out a long beeping sound. What the hell?

“‘At the beep, please leave your name, number, and a brief justification for the ontological necessity of modern man’s existential dilemma, and we’ll get back to you,’” Will says.

“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” I ask. Dude is completely mental.

“It’s a line from
Reality Bites
,” Will says.

“Uh…okay.”

“The thing is, Max, I can’t say anything. I promised her I’d stay out of it. I swore to it, and my allegiance is to her. Not to you.”

“Stay out of what?”

“Anything having to do with the two of you. She says she wants to move on.”

“Do you think she means it?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Will, are you ready to go? We’re late for lunch,” Will’s mom says, leaning her head out of the car.

“Yeah. Ready,” Will says. “Look, Max, I’m sorry. Truly. I would love nothing more than to get involved, but I can’t break my promise.” And with that, Will climbs into the car.

“A pleasure meeting you,” Juan says, and then jumps into the Range Rover after Will.

I’m at the end of the line here. I don’t know what more I can do except go home and see my dad.

ot it,” I say as I kick the ball toward the makeshift goal.

Dad expertly blocks my shot and sends the ball sailing back to Jake. We’re actually playing soccer together. It’s pretty mindbendingly weird. Granted, it was my idea and I practically had to drag Dad into the backyard to get him to do it, but once we were here, he was into it. Maybe that’s what I should have been doing all along, forcing Dad, kicking and screaming, to pay attention to us. I’ve been letting him set the pace all these years when what he really needed was for someone else to shove him out of his own way. It’s hard to ignore the similarities between us.

Dad’s wearing the yellow soccer jersey from Manuel. He stared at it for about ten minutes when I first pulled it out of my backpack, and then he disappeared into the bathroom for a while. When he came back out, he was wearing the jersey.

I told Dad and Mom all about the stolen computer, Ensenada, and Manuel. I left out some of the grittier details, but I did mention Max here and there. I played it down because I don’t need the third degree. Dad didn’t want to talk much about the accident. So I let it rest. For now.

The mere fact that he and Jake made it through a long evening together (okay, Jake did run away, but at least Dad found him), in which they went out to dinner, without Mom, is a huge relief. Dad probably isn’t ever going to be this warm and fuzzy guy, but today is already better than yesterday, and maybe tomorrow will be better than today. At least I know why Dad is damaged, and I don’t feel the same antipathy toward him.

Jake stops the ball with his foot, picks it up, and throws it to Dad.

“You can’t touch the ball with your hands,” Dad says. “Only your feet touch the ball in soccer.” I can hear the annoyance creeping into his voice. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I know that. I play soccer in school,” Jake says. “I just like catch better. I’m tired of playing soccer.”

“Okay,” Dad says. “Then let’s play catch.”

“Catch is a game for two people,” Jake says.

“Three can play catch,” Dad insists. I’m not sure he’ll ever come to terms with the particulars that make Jake Jake. Catch will never be a three-person game to Jake. His rules are hard and fast. He’s grown a lot in the last few years, but Asperger’s has its limits. And Dad has his limits. Hopefully, in the Venn diagram of their lives, they can find a little more overlap.