Love Me Broken (13 page)

We reach the end of the block, and he stops to look both ways. I notice that he sets his feet down to balance. I wonder for a moment if I’m supposed to do that too, but then I figure if he wanted me to do it, he’d ask me.

We turn onto the road and start heading uphill. The engine is revving to fight the climb, and gravity is forcing me backward so that I have to clutch onto Adam even tighter. The wind is blowing his hair, and I feel the breeze on my arms and legs and through my clothes. This is completely different than riding in a car. I’m much more exposed, much more part of the environment. I glance up at the clouds and am glad it doesn’t look like rain.

We turn onto level ground and start heading east around the town. I think about Nicole. I wonder how her party is going. But my thoughts are cut short as Adam starts to go a little faster. My heartbeat accelerates, and for a moment I can’t breathe inside my helmet. It feels like we’re doing sixty, maybe seventy miles an hour—and then I notice the speedometer. We’re not even doing thirty.

Okay. I calm down a bit. I guess all the wind and the fact that I haven’t ridden in a vehicle for almost a year is playing with my senses. It will be okay.

And as I realize this, I start to relax and get into it again. It is sort of exhilarating, like riding a roller coaster over the hills of town.

When we reach the other side of Astoria, the ground is flatter and the roads straighter. I start to really enjoy myself. It feels—it feels like we’re flying. Yet it feels probably safer than it should, under the bubble of my helmet, with my arms around Adam, feeling his warmth and the way his stomach inflates with each breath.

I don’t know him that well, but I don’t care—I want someone to share this moment with. I lean forward and press my body into his back. I already had my arms around him, but now it feels like I’m hugging him. His body reacts without changing his position. He leans back into me ever so slightly, and even above the vibrations of the engine I swear I can feel a moan escape from his chest and rumble through his frame.

It’s a moan of longing that runs deeper than sex. It’s the moan of a lonely soul. And I just press up against him tighter.

Erica’s got her hands around me the whole way to the party. A few times when we make a turn or go downhill, her grip tightens and I have some trouble breathing. Not that I’m complaining. I’m just glad she feels safe.

And then about halfway there, she starts hugging up against me even when we aren’t turning.

It makes me glad I took a shower before heading out to pick her up. Yeah, it made me a little late. Which is not cool. But I’d rather have her angry with me than thinking I was gross. Plus I knew she’d be looking hot as usual, which she is.

Finally our ride is over and we pull up to Nicole’s, a single story brown house standing across the street from some tidelands. I scoot past a line of cars and trucks parked outside and pull the bike up to the front by the garage. It’s not dark yet outside, but there’s a yellow light on the front porch, and from inside comes the sound of music. People-shaped shadows move against the closed blinds.

I turn off the engine and put my feet down to balance. Then I step off and help Erica down. Her hand is shaking when I take it, and for a moment I worry that she was freaking out the whole time. Maybe the ride was as bad for her as crossing streets alone—or worse?

But when she pulls off the helmet, her hair is flustered and there’s a huge grin on her face. I smile with relief when I see it.

“That was incredible!” she gasps. I take the helmet and she starts to smooth down her hair, looking past me and almost laughing at the memory of the ride. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

“You told me,” I say, and laugh a little too. I set the helmet down on the seat. “You ready?” I ask, and motion to the house.

Her smile freezes a little and her shoulders hunch slightly as she listens to the sounds of the party. She tries to smile again, but it seems forced. “Yeah,” she says, a little too light-heartedly. “Let’s go find the birthday girl.”

We step up onto the porch and Erica raises her hand to knock, then reconsiders and just opens the door. I follow her inside, and the bass of the stereo hits me at once. It’s a song I don’t recognize, and I can’t say I’m a fan of it. It sounds like something by a teen pop group formed to sell records to lonely young girls. It lacks any kind of heart or soul to it.

Inside, the room is almost bare of furniture. It’s nowhere near as nice as Erica’s house. There’s a shabby old couch on the far wall and a brown beaten-up table in front of it, littered with red plastic cups. And even more different than Erica’s, this house is full of life. There’s a crowd of young people in here, and the smell of smoke clogs in the air. I cough. I’m not a smoker, but even if I were I’d probably be choking right now. Erica scans the room. “She’s not here. Maybe the kitchen?” She nods toward a door at the end of the room, and I find myself wondering how much time Erica has spent here. And if Nicole’s parents usually allow this kind of party—or if they don’t know.

We go into the kitchen, where there are sodas and beers laid out on the counter along with some half-empty bottles of cheap vodka. Her friend isn’t here either, so we stop to get drinks. She hands me a plastic cup, and I reach for a beer, wanting to get her drink first.

“Want any?” I ask.

She looks at the can of beer in my hand like it’s insect poison. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t drink.”

There’s something going on here beyond teenage abstinence. Her shoulders are too rigid, her eyes too blank with dull pain. It’s the same way her body reacts when getting near a street crossing. So I put the beer back on the counter. “Sure,” I say. “What would you like?”

She looks at the choices on the counter and grabs a Sprite. She pours it into her plastic cup, and I grab a Dr. Pepper for myself, also pouring it into a cup. It’s probably a waste to use a cup when you can drink out of a can, but when you’re at a party, you don’t want to be the only one who’s not drinking. People will constantly ask if you want a real drink.

We turn around and see a group of girls coming in through the back door of the kitchen. They look me up and down, then they notice Erica and wave to her. Their motions are a little too enthusiastic, and I’m guessing they have something stronger than Coke in their glasses. Erica gives them a strained smile in return.

“Have you guys seen Nicole?” she asks them.

Two in the crowd shake their heads, but a short girl with frizzy black hair puts out a heavy hand and touches Erica on the shoulder. “Yeah, saw her out back.” Then she leans in to Erica, and even I can smell the booze on her breath. She’s whispering, but so loud she might as well not have bothered. “She’s with Chad.” She shakes her head and gives a look that says she disapproves. “Anyway,” she says, leaning back and smiling again, “It’s good to see you around, Erica. Haven’t seen you much since last summer, since—” She stops, catching herself in mid-sentence. One of the other girls with her nudges her.

“Way to go, Rita.”

The short girl, apparently Rita, gives Erica a look of pity. But it only lasts a moment, and then she shrugs and walks away, ready to rejoin the party.

Erica does not move a muscle. She remains exactly still until it is just us alone in the kitchen again. I don’t know what to say. I just want to put my arms around her. But at the same time I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be touched.

And more than that: What happened last summer? I realize how little I know about this girl. How much there is to learn.

She shakes her head, as if waking herself up. “Okay,” she says, and looks over at me. “Let’s try outside.”

I nod and we walk out the back door together. There’s a small porch where, surprisingly, no one is smoking, despite several overflowing ashtrays. There’s a yard that slopes down to the edge of some woods here, and we start to trudge through the damp grass. There are a few people scattered back here, guys leaning into girls trying to steal a kiss, and a group of high school girls who look way too young to be here. We walk past them, and I see where Erica’s eyes are fixed: to a couple in the middle of an argument toward the back of the yard. The girl is blond and wearing shorts and a low-cut top. The guy’s wearing jeans and a neon orange polo. Even in the dark, he stands out.

We approach, and their voices quiet as the girl sees us. She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Erica!” she screams, and runs forward with her arms open. Erica gives a much more subdued hug back, and the guy glowers at me from the distance. He makes no effort to join us, and stands kicking the grass with his shoe. “I’m so glad you came!” continues Nicole. Then she turns to me. “Why hello there!” she says, and laughs. “You must be the mechanic.”

“This is Adam,” Erica says, an edge to her voice.

Nicole is eyeing me up and down like a piece of meat. “Mmm-hmm,” she hums. “He sure is.” Then she turns to Erica and nudges her in the ribs. “Damn! He’s cute!”

It’s dark, so I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure Erica blushes.

“You must be Nicole,” I say, to move the conversation along. This snaps her back to attention.

“Yeah,” she says, and gives a little wave. Then she points behind her and frowns. “And that’s Chad.”

Chad, still at a distance, tilts his chin toward us. “What’s up?” he says.

“Get over here, you silly goose!” Nicole calls to him. Chad gives a huge huff and walks the three feet over to us. He’s been drinking, and I realize I don’t know him at all, but there’s something about Chad that I instantly don’t like. He seems to have the same reaction to me, because when he gets close enough that we can see each other’s eyes, I swear he snarls a little. Like a dog that wants you off his property. But I’m not one to back down from intimidation. I meet his gaze and keep it, even though he’s a good head and shoulders taller than I am. He puts a heavy arm around Nicole, but keeps his eyes on me.

The girls seem fairly oblivious. Or maybe they deal with this on a regular basis. They ignore us and Erica takes an envelope out of her purse and hands it to Nicole. “Happy birthday,” she says.

Nicole gives a little squeal and rips into the card. She pulls it out and—I’ll give her credit for this—she reads the front before opening it up, which must not be easy since there’s a bulge of papers inside. Even I’m curious to see what it is. You can tell a lot about a person by the gifts they give. I don’t mean price. I mean, this is Erica’s friend. It should count.

Nicole opens the card and her eyes widen. “Is this...?” she starts, and then opens up the little booklet inside the card. “Oh my god!” she screams, and her glee pierces my eardrums and makes me wince. She steps away from Chad and throws her arms around Erica. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” she babbles. She pulls back, and there are tears in her eyes. “It’s
perfect
.”

I still don’t know what “it” is. Neither does Chad, and he has a lot more trouble containing himself. “What’s that?” he asks, and reaches for the card without asking. Nicole lets him look, but doesn’t take her hand off of it.

“Tickets,” she explains, then turns to me as well. “She got me tickets to come visit her!”

“Why you need tickets?” Chad asks. “She lives right here.”

I’m wondering the same thing, and Nicole says, “Not for long. I told you already. She’s moving to New York for school.”

My stomach sinks. Even though I can’t stay here, the idea that Erica has kept this from me feels like a betrayal. I know I’m a total hypocrite for saying that, but it’s true. She’s planning to leave and she didn’t even tell me. I can only stare at her. To her credit, she squirms under my gaze.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I got into Columbia.”

I take a deep breath. Remember, I tell myself, it’s not like you can be with her anyway. This is good for her. She should have a life.

“That’s great,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. It’s actually incredibly painful to imagine the life that Erica will have without me. “That’s a really good school.”

She gives a small, uncomfortable smile. Fortunately, Chad provides a quick distraction from the awkwardness. He’s looking at the tickets, struggling to read them in the low light. Then he looks up at Erica with a sneer.