The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (13 page)

He laughed. “Yeah, a little pretentious, isn’t it?”

“No, no, it’s just…it’s just…BIG! And really nice. Do only you, and your mom and stepdad live here?”

“And Kara, my stepsister, but she’s in college in Cali so she’s rarely home. So, are you ready to meet my mom?” He grinned, and then stepped out into the misty weather. Before he could make it to Aimee's side, she opened her door and slid out, pulling her pack out with her. He grabbed the pack, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and huddled her into his body just like he did when he held on to a football. They ran to the porch to escape the rain. Both giggled while Aimee wiped the raindrops from her hair and face. Just as he opened the front door, her phone buzzed in her backpack.

“Just a sec, Dylan.” She pulled it out and checked the caller ID.

Number Withheld
.

She opened the phone and put it to her ear. Dylan waited patiently for Aimee to finish. “Hello?” she answered.

Silence.

Aimee started again. “Hellooo.”

More silence.

“Is there someone there?” she asked with her eyebrows drawing together.

Nothing but
dead
silence.

“If there is someone there, I can’t hear you so I’m hanging up. Please call back.” She closed her phone and stuck it back in her pack.

Dylan asked, “Wrong number?”

“I don’t know. It didn’t pick up a number, and I couldn’t hear the caller. Strange, huh?”

“I get those sometimes. Probably a wrong number. Anyway, let’s get inside out of the rain.”

“All right, I’m ready,” Aimee answered as she nervously straightened her hair. She relaxed immediately when she looked into Dylan’s dark, serene eyes.

Dylan’s stepfather was out-of-town on business so his mother greeted them as they came into the kitchen. She had on an apron and was stirring a bowl of cake batter. Aimee glanced around quickly, taking in the immenseness of the room. The room seemed larger than her entire house. It was off-white with bright lights and all contemporary features. Large glass windows covered the entire back wall of the breakfast area. A French door looked out onto a covered patio and magnificent landscaped backyard. Large pots of rainbow colored flowers decked the surroundings. The patio had a large hot tub in the corner. Steam bubbled out from under the cover. The inside and the backyard were even more impressive than the front of the house; gorgeous, posh, and pristine.

“Mom, I want you to meet Aimee. Aimee Schmidt, this is my mom, Jill Lane.”

Mrs. Lane quickly put down her bowl of batter and wiped her hands on her apron. “Aimee, it’s so nice to meet you. Please call me Jill. You’ll have to excuse my mess,” she said, and then casually waved her hand towards her kitchen counter, which was cluttered with an assortment of baking paraphernalia. The rest of the room was immaculate; a place for everything and everything perfectly in its place. So unlike Aimee's house. Of course she kept it clean, but it definitely looked more lived in. Comfortable, like an old worn shoe. She could always find a week’s worth of newspapers covering the coffee table or an assortment of their shoes at the backdoor. Aimee wondered if life at the Lane’s was as perfect as everything appeared.

“Thank you for inviting me Mrs. La...uh, I mean Jill. Dylan tells me you are a wonderful cook.”

“Dylan is too biased. All moms are great cooks. I’m sure yours is, too,” she said, then she started again to whisk her chocolate batter effortlessly.

Dylan shot her a stern look, and Jill looked puzzled at him.

Aimee replied immediately, “Well, my mom died a long time ago, but my dad enjoys showing off his culinary skills when he has time.” She managed a smile hoping that she saved Dylan's mother from any unnecessary embarrassment.

Jill smiled quickly and kept on chattering. “Well, men think they're better in the kitchen, or anywhere else, for that matter. You know men are chefs and women are just cooks, so I’m told.” She chuckled sarcastically.

Dylan rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, Aimee, let’s go study.” He took Aimee's hand and guided her from the kitchen behind him while they moved into the formal dining room.

His mom kept pacing about the kitchen preparing lunch. “I’ll have lunch ready in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you kids study in the dining ro...” But they had already disappeared into the dining room.

Dylan instantly took both of Aimee's hands. “I’m sorry about Mom.”

“Don’t worry about it. She didn’t know. Besides, I’m okay talking about it. It happened when I was born so I’ve had a lot of years to get over her…uh, her not being a part of my life, our lives, Dad, James, and me. So it’s okay to discuss. I can’t tiptoe around it forever.”

Fortunately he didn’t press on with the subject. Aimee wasn’t sure she really wanted to talk about it at this point. She wanted to think and talk about Dylan, not herself, so she changed the subject. She eased her hands from his grasp and swung her arms around his neck. On her tiptoes, she stared into his eyes. Suddenly, she attached her lips to his, giving him a brief, but excited kiss.

He pulled back with a surprised expression, then a smirk slowly lit up his face. “Well, I can tell we won’t get much studying done if you keep this up.”

“What, you don’t like it?” she asked with a playful pout.

He grinned. “No, I
do
like…too much.”

“Good,” replied Aimee. She dropped her arms from their embrace. He took her hand, then escorted her to the opposite end of the room, and set the pack down on one of the dining chairs.

Just like the kitchen, this room was expansive. A long, glass-topped table spread from one end to the other surrounded by twelve elegant looking chairs. At the opposite end a huge stone fireplace served as the supporting wall in the center with openings on either side of it leading into what looked like a massive den. One wall was mostly windows, which also looked out onto the backyard.

“Geez, I’ve never sat at a dining table this large.”

Dylan laughed. “Yeah, well, Mom and Paul like to entertain a lot.”

During their date on Friday they had talked a bit about their families. Aimee knew he referred to his stepdad by his first name, Paul. He was an attorney who worked for a lot of high profile corporations on the west coast so he was out of town most of the time.

“Well, your house is awesome, and, really, really big.”

“Yeah, Mom is used to being pampered,” he said, “and Paul was the perfect person to marry to keep her pampered.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, more of a funny thing how it worked out. Actually kinda poetic justice.”

“What do you mean?”

Dylan pulled out a chair for her, then gestured for her to sit down. He was always quite a gentleman; pulling out chairs and opening doors for Aimee. It felt nice to be spoiled. Dylan chuckled. She could tell he was about to tell her something amusing.

He sat down next to Aimee in the grand chair at the end of the table, and proceeded with his story. “Well, Paul was, actually still is, my dad’s attorney. Dad had a bad habit of messing around with other women, and finally after years of sneaking around on Mom, he decided to call it quits. He asked Paul to handle his and Mom’s divorce. Dad didn’t know Mom and Paul were having an affair. Within a month of the divorce, Mom and Paul were married, and shortly after that we moved here to Medford.” Dylan snickered. “Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?”

Aimee shook her head. “You mean Paul is still your dad’s attorney after everything that happened?”

“Yeah, they are actually good friends. I guess no hurt feelings. Mom and Dad’s marriage was over at the end so it worked out okay.”

“Okay for you, too?” She hoped the question wasn’t too personal.

He looked at her for a few seconds before answering. “The whole split family thing kinda sucks, you know, but I was old enough to understand when it happened, and they didn’t fight over who got custody of me. Actually, they let me decide.”

“And your dad doesn’t mind you living with your mom and Paul?”

“He did at first, but he finally realized it was better for me. He travels a lot with his company so I would have been left in Portland by myself, or with the housekeeper. Anyway, Dad is used to being in control. He gets off on his power trips. He donates a lot of money to West Columbia, and I’m sure he had a lot to do with me getting the scholarship. He was so sure I was taking it. God, he was friggin’ pissed with me when I told him I was going to UC. He thinks throwing money at people is the answer to getting his way. It’s one of many reasons I’d rather live with Mom and Paul. Paul makes a lot of money, but at least he’s cool about it. You know, living here is healthier for me.”

“It sucks you don’t get along with your dad, but…” Aimee paused, “…I’m happy you moved to Medford with your mom and Paul.” She was
so
happy at this exact moment. She hated to think about anything but the present. It felt too wonderful to be real. Her perfect dream. She prayed it continued forever, that she wouldn’t wake up. For some unfathomable reason he wanted her. She couldn’t imagine how she might feel if he wasn’t here.

Dylan touched her blushing cheeks. He said in an extremely serious voice, “Me, too.”

Just then Mrs. Lane burst through the door carrying a tray of delicious smelling food. She instructed Dylan to get the drinks from the kitchen counter. Before she left she commanded, with a grin, they leave room for a piece of double chocolate cake. Aimee looked at Dylan with wide eyes. He shrugged. “Just eat what you want. She’ll feed you until you bust if you let her. She has some insane need to feed everyone. She gets off to cooking. Paul loves it, though. I think he’s gained twenty pounds since they got married.”

“You won’t get upset if I…I destroy some of your mom’s wonderful creation? I mean, I hate to upset you, or her.” Aimee looked nervously at the kitchen door while she picked at the bread on her sandwich.

Dylan looked at her worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect. Well, everything except I forgot to tell you I’m a tree hugging, peace loving, vegetarian.” She mustered a smile hoping he wouldn’t be offended by her quirk.

He leaned back in his chair and cackled. “Is that all? I thought something was terribly wrong with you, or you found a hair in your sandwich.” Dylan continued chuckling while he took off the top piece of bread, whipped off the meat, and stuffed it in his mouth. “There, problem solved.” He smiled at Aimee, then picked up his sandwich and took a big bite.

After lunch they studied for a couple of hours, stopping occasionally to talk about other things besides physics and world history. They covered their circles of friends, upcoming school activities, and other random things of interest. Of course he didn’t remember Aimee from school or other events until this past summer when their paths brought them serendipitously together like two stars colliding.

Before leaving Dylan took her on a tour of the house. They stopped at his bedroom. Since his stepsister was rarely home, he had the entire second story to himself. Just like the rest of the house, his room was mammoth. Also, like the rest of the house, it was bright, and had one wall covered with glass looking out over the backyard. Oddly for an eighteen year old male, it was immaculate. The bed was even made, something that only happened in Aimee's house on the weekend when she cleaned, or when special company, like Aunt Lauren, was coming. Everything - the furniture, the lightening, the accessories - was modern.

“Nice. I like.” Aimee strolled around the perimeter, casually surveying the surroundings. He followed behind her while she circled around his massive bed, her extended fingers gliding smoothly across the black, silky comforter.

Aimee lingered at the display case. It was the entire length of one wall, and contained books, CD’s, pictures, and a large number of trophies. Football plaques, medals, awards, team photos, all kinds of tokens memorializing his athletic talent from pee wee football until State this year at East Medford High, were strategically placed. Aimee was impressed as she ran her hand along the length of the smooth teak shelf, stopping briefly to survey each piece. At the very end was a framed snapshot of Dylan. It looked like a banquet. His mom and Paul were standing on one side, and another man, who Aimee assumed was Dylan's dad, was on the other side. Dylan favored his dad. His dark brown hair, his slightly pointed nose and high cheek bones, but mostly the rich, chocolate brown eyes looked like his dad’s. But right next to his dad a person’s image had been blotted out by a black piece of paper, as if intentionally trying to obliterate the person from existence. Aimee picked up the photo, looked at it for a moment, then glanced back at Dylan. He took it from her with his mouth pursed in a crooked frown, and set it back down.

“It was the only picture I had of my family at the ceremony. I didn’t want to throw it away so
I covered
her
picture.”Aimee knew
her
was Brandi. She smiled ineptly and moved quickly to another photo, one of
Dylan posing with his dad and some people Aimee didn’t know at the Munich Airport in Germany.

“You went to Germany?”

“Yeah, a couple summers ago. I went with Dad and his girlfriend, Gretchen, the blonde with her arm in a deathlock around Dad’s waist. My old man likes them young and pretty. I think Gretchen’s half his age. She just finished getting her masters from West Columbia before we went. Anyway, Gretchen’s from Germany so we flew over there for a couple of weeks and stayed with her family. We even went down and toured Italy. It was great, except I had to hang with the old man the whole time. So, have you been?”

“No. I haven’t been to Europe, but I’d love to go. The farthest away I’ve visited is Texas. Does that count for traveling abroad?”

He snickered. “I believe so. I hear Texas considers itself another country.” He paused a few seconds. “Well, I hope you get a chance to go. I guess I’ve been lucky. I’ve been able to see a lot of countries where Dad has offices, but I prefer traveling with Mom and Paul.” He grabbed Aimee's hand and inched his fingers into hers, then led her out into the hall. “I guess I better get you home before your dad comes looking for you.”