The Day Before (9 page)

a good son

Black letters
on the hull say
THE GAL.

She looks much older
than the ones around her.
Smaller, too.

I step up and over,
onto the boat,
and watch as
Cade puts the lead weight
next to the other one,
near a big net.

“We lost a couple of these
last time we were out,” he says.
“I was supposed to replace them
after our last trip.”

“What are they for?”

“They keep the lines deep.
That’s where the fish are.”

Relief washes over me.

They’re for fishing.
Not for drowning.

“Is this your dad’s boat?”

“Yeah.
He’s a commercial fisherman.”

The wind has picked up,
and I wrap my arms
around myself, trying
to stay warm.

Cade doesn’t seem to notice.
He’s scanning the boat,
like he’s lost something.
He steps past me,
and I want so much
to touch him,
to feel we’re connected again.

But I wait,
because if drumming
has taught me anything,
it’s that timing
is everything.

“Come on,” he finally says.
“Let’s go eat.
You must be starving.”

But I don’t move,
because there’s something
more going on here.

“Can I meet your dad?”

He looks at me,
but the falling darkness
provides him
with a mask.

“No,” he replies softly.
“Not today.”

I guess that’s
the only hint
I’m going to get.

together again

Back on the street,
Madison stands by her car,
the sun now tucked in tight,
the moon rising, ready
to take watch over our world.

I hug her and say good-bye.
No explanation necessary.
She knows this
is where I need to be.

Back in his Beetle,
a dozen questions
circle my mind like vultures.
I can’t let them move in
on this moment though.

It’s not time.
Now is the time
to let him know
he is safe with me.
That we can have fun
and be friends,
and it can be enough.

I’ll make it be enough.

unnecessary

I get my words ready.
I want to tell him
I won’t push him anymore.
That whatever’s going on,
it’s his business,
and whether he wants to tell me or not,
it doesn’t matter, we can still
be friends.

Being a friend means
knowing when to push
and knowing when to pull back.

I’d forgotten that.

I get my words ready,
mixing them up and around,
wanting to say just
the right thing.

But while I’m
preparing,
sorting,
organizing,
stressing,
he speaks.

“I’ll tell you, Amber.
I will tell you.
Just not now.”

He reaches over for
my hand. Holds it there,
on my leg. My heart
skips a beat, and I give
his hand a little squeeze
as I put all of my
carefully selected words
away.

that’s more like it

A pink lobster
glows neon
in the window.

Because it’s dark,
I can’t make out
the name of the place.

He leads me in,
waves at the guy
behind the register,
and takes me
to a booth in the corner.

It’s obvious
he knows this place.
It’s more than just somewhere
to get something to eat.

I look behind me
and see a bar
and pool tables.

We’re underage,
but, obviously,
for reasons I don’t understand,
it doesn’t matter.

“So, no Chinese food?”

“Nope.”
And that’s all he says.

This boy likes to keep me guessing.

The waiter comes over,
says, “Hey, Cade,”
and asks if it’ll be the usual.

“Yeah,” he says.
“But two this time.”

He knows what he wants.
No flipping coins.

I tell him I need to use the
restroom, so he gets up
and leads me to the back
where there are two doors,
one with a GONE FISHING sign
and one with a GONE SHOPPING sign.

“I hate shopping,” I tell him.

“You can go in with me if you want.”

Is he flirting with me?
Damn, I hope so.

piling it on

As I wash my hands,
I stare in the mirror,
thinking about this
weird and wonderful day.

It didn’t turn out
like I thought it would.

Nothing ever does.

The good news is
I’ve hardly thought about
tomorrow at all.

The bad news is
I’ve now added new worries
to the pile that’s so high,
it feels like it could topple over
at any moment.

Cade???
Why the hell are you here?
What can I do to help you?
Please, there must be something?
Will I ever see you again?
What if I don’t like my new family?
What if my new family doesn’t like me?
What if my real family doesn’t miss me?
What if my real family even likes having me gone?

Wish I could demolish it
the way Cade destroyed
that sand castle.

If only it were that
easy.

hints of truth

My phone rings.

It’s my sister.

She yells at me,
says Mom and Dad
had a horrible day,
that I’m being selfish
and I should come home tonight
and not make them wait
until tomorrow.

I’m so tired of her yelling.
It’s all she does lately,
going on about how
I’m not the only one
affected by the verdict.

But what the hell am I supposed to do?
I can barely keep it together myself;
how am I supposed to help her?
Help my parents?
Help my friends?

I can’t.

“Kelly, don’t yell at me!
I needed to do this today.
I needed one day to myself.
Whatever I say, you’re not going
to understand, but—”

“They think you’re not coming back.”
Her voice shakes as she says it.

“What? Why—”

“They think you don’t want to go,
so you’ve run away.
And they feel bad, like they didn’t
fight hard enough.”

“I’m coming back.”
But I say it like there’s sand in my throat.

“You took your sticks.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You took them, just in case.
Maybe you left, thinking you’d come back.
But admit it, Amber.
It’s crossed your mind.
Not coming back.”

I sigh as I run
my fingers through my
messy, sandy hair.

“Just come home. Please?”

“You’re not gonna win this one, Kel.
I’m sorry.
Tell them I’m fine, all right?
And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She sniffles.
“Love you, Jelly.”

“Love you too, Kelly Belly.
I gotta go.”

I hang up,
my heart racing,
the back of my neck sweaty.

“Hey, Amber?”
Cade knocks.
“You okay?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Cade’s words echo
in my head.

I bet others would say screw it,
and just not go back.

Six months ago

Dear Amber,

Like I told you when you were ten, you can tell me anything, ask me anything, even if you have to write it down.

Here’s what you have to remember—you are a strong girl. I admire you and your strength. Look at how you helped your sister, and even me at times, through the divorce. You have such a good head on your shoulders.

You can do this. You can! And you know we’ll be right by your side doing everything we can to help you through this.

Although you will have to leave the things and people you love, you’ll always come back to them. You aren’t losing us, sweetheart. I know it may feel that way, but you’re not losing us! We can talk every day on the phone, we can do Skype chats, I’ll even come down a couple of times and spend the weekend with you. I’ve already checked with Allen and Jeanie, and they said they wouldn’t have any problem with that.

We must stick together and adjust to this big change.

Thank you for letting me know how you feel. I’m always here for you—don’t ever forget that. No matter where you are, I’m here for you.

I love you,
Mom

more surprises

Back at the table,
I want to put everything
out of my mind
except for Cade.

While we wait for food to come,
we stick to safe
topics of conversation.

Our favorite seafood—
him: lobster
me: crab

What we like to read—
him: graphic novels
me: realistic fiction

Our pets—
him: a dog named Boo
me: a cat named Tiny

How said pets got their names—
him: white like a ghost
me: the fattest cat you’ve ever seen

How many girlfriends/boyfriends we’ve had—
him: two
me: one (although I don’t tell him it was one
of those fake fifth-grade romances)

Whether we are attached at the moment—
him: no
me: no

And then we get
quiet.

Luckily the waiter
brings our food.
Steak and lobster.

“Uh, this is your usual?” I ask.

“My mom’s a vegetarian.
I can’t eat like this at home.
Plus, my older brother owns the place.”

“Family discount, then?”

He smiles.

“Thanks.
For bringing me here.”

As if on cue,
music starts to play.
It sounds like it’s coming
from upstairs.
I take my knife and fork
and tap out the beat
on the table.

It makes him laugh.
“I had a feeling you might like it here.”

And I have a feeling,
as the drumbeats
get louder,
that he is exactly right.

where I belong

Bellies full
of surf and turf
and spirits tired
of trying too hard
to keep things simple,
we head upstairs.

A small crowd
has gathered
to listen to the band.

The loud, fast music
with a hard edge
comes at us,
and I feel it

slicing
us

wide open.

They want us
to feel the loudness,
not just hear it.

And people do,
raising their fists
in the air,

punch,

punch,

punching it out,

showing the band
they’re with them
all the way.

It’s not the best
music in the world,
and who knows
what the hell
the lyrics are,
but right now,
loud works.

I watch the drummer
and focus on
the rhythm he plays.

He pounds out
the beats
with purpose,
and my arms ache
to make some noise.

Cade leans in,
yells in my ear,
“Do you want to play?”

“What? With them?” I ask.
“Yeah. I know them.

They’re cool.”

They finish the song and the
lead singer bends down
to grab his drink.

“But I don’t know their songs.”

“I bet you can find something.”

I can’t deny it. I’d love to play.
Still, I try to keep it cool.
“Sure. If they’re up for it.”

He runs up onstage and
I see him talking
and pointing at me.

It’s not long before
I’m onstage, Cade
introducing me
to the band members,
Martin, Chase, and Henry.

“How about some White Stripes?” I ask.

“Seven Nation Army?” Henry suggests.

I nod.
Awesome.

The drummer, Chase,
jumps offstage and heads
for the bar.

I sit down.

I raise my arms in the air.

And before I know it,
there is nothing in this
world except me
and the rhythm
and the music
and the display of fists
telling me that right now,
everything is exactly
how it should be.

music is such an aphrodisiac

It’s the release
I needed.

I play like a girl
possessed.

The boys offer me
the gift of
a solo, so I take it,
open it up,
and make it mine.

All mine.

When we’re through,
the crowd yells
and I take a bow,
gratitude dripping
off of me.

I give my temporary
bandmates a wave
and jump down
into Cade’s arms.

He spins me around
saying words like
“amazing” and
“incredible.”

And I think to myself,

Yes you are,
yes you are,
yes you are,
yes you are,
yes you are.