What Remains (14 page)

Nineteen

And that's how I find myself behind the wheel of Spencer's car on Tuesday, heading to see Dr. Reynolds. My parents said they'd replace my car with the insurance money
if
I'm actually going to drive. But I have to prove myself before they'll spend the money.

And Spencer is on a crusade. He's determined to find a way to get me over my fear. His current plan is to bribe me to drive to my appointment today. And my reward for doing that is getting to borrow his precious Sweeney on Saturday to go see Dr. Collins and then to pick up Ally for the game.

I'm committed to doing whatever it takes to make that happen. But it's easier said than done and as soon as I'm behind the wheel, the now-familiar terror washes over me. I go from calm to clammy and huffing for air in under two minutes.

Lord, Cal. Just drive the damned car already.

Lizzie is impatient, which is making me more anxious, and finally Spencer reaches over and turns off the car.

He thinks for a minute, then asks, “What do you have faith in?”

“What?” I haven't the foggiest idea of what he's talking about.

“Some people have faith in religion, or fate, or love, or whatever. What do you have faith in?”

I look at Spencer, who is probably what I have the most faith in, but there's absolutely no chance of my saying that out loud.

“I don't know. Science, I guess. Cause and effect?” I offer because it seems as good as any.

Spencer nods and sits back in his seat. “Fine. So what's the science of driving a car?”

My head fills with visions of pistons, and valves, and intake systems, but I know that Spencer couldn't care less about how a car works. “You really don't want me to go into all that, do you?”

A grin spreads across his face. “No, not really. I just want you to think about it.”

“Fine. I'm thinking about it,” I say sarcastically, but from the look on his face I can tell that I'm still missing his point.

“Calvin,” he exclaims in an exaggerated whiny voice that he learned for a show and that would make my skin crawl even if his use of my full name didn't.

I take my hands off the wheel. “I hate that, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughs. “Perhaps I'm just going to call you Calvin until you get this thing moving.”

I think of transmissions and fuel injection processes and of having to hear Spencer calling me “Calvin” for the rest of my life, then I turn the key and try to think about nothing while I back us out of the driveway.

I drive like a five-year-old on his first bike. I wish the car had training wheels. By the time I get us to Dr. Reynolds' office, I'm a shaky mess and even Spencer is looking a bit green when I stop the car.

He wanders down the block to get food, or maybe tranquilizers for the trip home. I turn the other way and head up to see Dr. Reynolds. The newest yellow piece of notebook paper, the one I haven't thrown out yet, that I haven't decided whether to show him, is crammed into my back pocket.

I'm still a little shaky when I get to the office, which Reynolds of course notices.

“You look pale, Cal. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I take my usual seat. “I just drove here and … it was hard.”

“I bet. Did you come alone?”

“No, it's Spencer's car. He came with me.”

“Well, that's good. That's a step in the right direction. It will get easier from here.” Dr. Reynolds seems so certain, but then he doesn't know yet about my promise to Ally.

“That's what I want to talk to you about. Driving, I mean. I expected it to be easier with Spencer, once I could actually do it. I'm always relaxed around Spencer. Well, usually.” And then I laugh a little because my hands are still shaking and there's no way that I look relaxed. “Well, more relaxed than with anyone else.”

“And it
will
get easier, the more you do it.” That makes sense, but … even before the accident spending time with Ally probably would have made me a bundle of nerves.

“Yeah, maybe. But what about having other people in the car?”

“Like who? Your mom?”

“No. There's this girl.” And I tell him the whole story about Ally transferring to our school and how I haven't been able to take my eyes off her, but never had the nerve to talk to her until we were thrown together on the team.

“I'm curious what was keeping you from speaking to her before. You aren't normally shy around girls, are you?”

I think about it. “No, but Ally … I … I'm not sure I totally understand it myself. I just thought she was out of my league. And then there was Lizzie … ”

“Lizzie? But I thought you weren't interested in her as a girlfriend.”

“I'm not. I wasn't. Lizzie was always telling me to talk to Ally.” I think back to the night at the theater when I was watching Ally and all of the vulgar suggestions that Lizzie was making to creep me out. “But, it's just … right before Ally moved here I went out with this girl once.”

I have to sift through my memories to come up with her name. “Karen. Her mom and my mom worked together and for some reason they thought it would be a good idea for us to meet. She was okay. My mom dropped us off at a movie. And halfway through, my phone started vibrating. I tried to ignore it but it didn't stop, so I went out into the lobby to check it. It was Spencer. Lizzie had called him. She found her mom unconscious and couldn't wake her up. She'd called 911, but … ”

“You felt like you had to go over there?”

“I did. Of course I did.”

“Why?” he asks.

His question blanks out my brain. It's like the way that old scoreboards used to be cleared, each board clacking back to a black space where a number used to be. There's nothing in his question for my mind to grasp onto. I don't even get it. “What do you mean, ‘why'?”

“Well, why did you have to go over there? She'd done the right thing by calling 911 and Spencer was going over there, so why did you feel like you had to leave your date to be with her?”

“Because Lizzie was my friend,” I sputter out. My chest is pounding like I've been running laps. I'm not sure what he's getting at, or what he thinks I was supposed to do, or how he could have expected me to sit in the movie theater with this girl I didn't even know when Lizzie needed me.

“So if one of the guys on your baseball team had called you, would you have left the theater?”

“No, probably not,” I say, frustrated. “You aren't getting it.” What little sense of accomplishment I was feeling from driving has evaporated. I launch up from the chair and walk over to the window. I let the leaves of the plant run through my fingers and concentrate on breathing until I think I can talk without wanting to punch something.

Dr. Reynolds hasn't moved. When I turn around I take another shot at explaining it to him.

“It was Lizzie. I couldn't just watch that stupid movie with this girl I didn't even know when Lizzie needed me. Don't you understand that?” I thought I'd calmed down a little but I'm surprised to feel that my cheeks are getting hot and my eyes are stinging again. I don't know what it is about this damned office that makes me feel like crying every time I'm here.

“Come sit down and try to relax, okay?”

I do as he says and then take a stab at stringing the words together. “Spencer and I had our families. We had each other. We had other friends. She didn't. She just had us. And we promised we'd always take care of her. I wasn't going to bail on that just to watch a movie.”

“How did the girl you were with react?” he asks.

I think back, but I don't really remember because I guess I didn't really care. Staying wasn't an option.

“I think she was pissed. She had to call her mom to come get her. I never saw her again. I just told my mom that we didn't hit it off.”

Wow. I never knew that. I'm sorry, Cal.

“So you were worried that the same thing would happen with this girl? Ally?”

His question makes me stop and think. Could Lizzie have been the reason why I was too afraid to talk to Ally?

“I didn't want it to. I really, really wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask her out. I thought about it every time I saw her. Every day. But I just didn't know how to do it.”

“Because you might have to leave her to be with Lizzie?”

Blame it on me. Seriously, it doesn't matter anymore.

“Maybe. And,” I admit, as much to Lizzie as to Reynolds, “because I was scared of screwing it up.”

“But now Lizzie isn't around and Ally seems interested in you.”

It isn't a question, and I'm glad, because I hadn't thought about it like that. I mean, what would have happened had Ally started talking to me before the accident? It adds a whole other layer of guilt onto what I'm already feeling and it's the first time I've really regretting talking to Dr. Reynolds.

“Cal?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” I say, trying to push all of his words out of my head. I can't have Ally wrapped up in the guilt that's already overwhelming me.

“So you're upset because a girl that you're interested in is interested in you?”

“No. I'm happy about that.”

“So what is it that's really worrying you?”

Finally, we get to it. The whole point of my coming today. “Like I said, I told her I'd pick her up, but I can't imagine how I'm going to be able to do it. How I'm going to drive with her in the car without losing my shit.”

“Did you think of telling her the truth? That you're scared of driving?” Dr. Reynolds asks me.

“Of course. I just don't want to be that guy. The one who can't do things for her. Don't I already have enough strikes against me?”

He looks down at my file, which I find amusing for some reason. “Well, let's see, you're an athlete, a good student, you have friends, people like you, you're handsome. Yes, I can see why you think you have so many strikes against you.”

“I mean … it isn't really like that. She's just … I've been wanting to talk to her for a year and now she asks me out. I wish it would have happened before all of this. Before I was this,” I say, pointing to my chest.

For the first time he looks at me like I would have expected a shrink to. Like he's tapped into some font of wisdom that I couldn't possibly be aware of. “Cal, I'd strongly suggest that you talk to her and tell her how you feel. She doesn't sound like she'll be scared off. But in the meantime, let me ask you a question. Okay?”

I wait to see what he's going to pull out this time but his words surprise me. “You're playing ball and you're down two runs in the third. The bases are loaded, there are two out, and you're up. And you strike out and that stinks, right?”

“Definitely,” I say, shocked that we're talking about ball.

“So now it's the bottom of the ninth and you're still down the same two runs and there are men at first and third. You slam it over the wall. Your team wins.”

“Okay … ”

“It still stinks that you struck out the first time. But it doesn't take away the fact that you won the game at the end of the day. Right?”

I cough out a laugh. “You're saying that it's better late than never?”

“In your case, I'm actually saying that later
is
better. Because I'm not sure you would have let yourself explore this opportunity before. I suspect that you would have stood at the plate and watched strike three go right by you.”

It's strange, but he just might be right. I don't know how I would have reacted had Ally and I talked before. Could I have made the time? What would I have done if Lizzie had needed me? Now I've got the time to see where this can go. And although I still don't know how I'm going to get behind the wheel of a car with her in it, I at least leave the office wanting to try.

And once again, I completely forget about the yellow list in my back pocket.

Twenty

On Saturday morning, Spencer comes over to get me. I've hardly slept, but that's okay. I'm tired in that vague way that makes it hard to be too upset or worried about anything and I'm hoping that will work in my favor.

I drop him off at home on the way to the hospital with promises that Sweeney will survive. That I'll observe speed limits. That no food or drink will cross the threshold of its door. That I'll get the car washed if we go through any mud.

Surprisingly, it's easier to drive alone. Without Spencer in the car, without anyone, the only one I have to worry about hurting is myself. I wouldn't say I'm comfortable, but at least I'm moving.

My appointment at the hospital goes well. There are no words for how happy I am that I'll only be having biopsies once a month now. I guess it shows because three different nurses comment on how cheerful I seem, and I am, just not only for the reason they think.

I'm not quite as calm driving to Ally's house. She lives in a really high-end subdivision where each house is different. Some have columns, some have fountains out front. We have a nice house, but these are in a different league altogether. The closer I get, the more anxious I feel. I almost forget that in the middle of the day is a baseball game. That says something on its own.

I'm a little early so I have the luxury of parking down the block from Ally's house and taking a few minutes to calm down. I do all of the usual deep breathing things, counting backwards from a hundred, running through the batting averages of the players who are going to be starting today, that sort of thing. By the time I finally pull up in her drive I don't think I look red and sweaty like someone who has just run a marathon, or worse, like someone who had to sit in a borrowed car down the block to calm down.

She must be waiting by the door because she comes running out as soon as I pull up. She's wearing jeans and a Mustangs T-shirt, the same thing half the people at the game today will be wearing, but there's no chance of anyone looking as good in them as she does. Lizzie wolf-whistles in my head. I'm eternally grateful that Ally can't hear her.

Ally smiles wide when she sees me and gets in the car. Without a pause, she leans over and gives me a quick hug that makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She smells like vanilla and sunshine.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she says. “I would have hated to miss this game.”

“Any time.” I mean it as much as someone who hasn't been able to drive can mean something like that.

I watch as she puts on her seat belt and then I take a deep breath and back the car out of her drive. The trip to Fairview involves a short stint on the freeway that I'm really dreading, but I'm hoping that sitting next to Ally will distract me.

Already, though, my hands are clammy on the wheel and I can feel an all-too-familiar pounding start in my temples in spite of the fact that we're only doing twenty-five down her street. I'm still worried that I'm not safe to drive with; that what happened with Lizzie will happen again.

My thoughts, not even Lizzie's, are so loud that I'm not talking to Ally and she's looking ahead, not talking to me. I'm sure by now she's figured out that I'm a nutcase and she regrets ever asking me to come get her.

As we turn the corner onto the street that will lead us towards the highway, she says, “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure,” I push out through my clenched teeth.

“I know it sounds funny, but my dad said he might buy me a new car for senior year and I was thinking of getting one of these. A Golf, I mean. I've never been behind the wheel of one, though. Do you think Spencer would mind if I were the one to drive us there?”

I pull over and pry my hands off the steering wheel one finger at a time. I know it's bullshit, and she knows it's bullshit, but still, she's throwing me this lifeline and making it look so effortless. I don't know what I've done to deserve her being so nice to me.

I say a quick prayer that Spencer won't kill me, unbuckle the seat belt, and get out. She does the same and then we've switched places and are ready to go.

She puts the car into drive and soon we're calmly heading down the road. I'm surprised to see her turning the opposite way from the freeway. “I promise I'll give the car back to you after the game, but I thought we'd take the side roads. You know, in case you wanted to come back this way.”

I turn on the radio and find that Spencer left it on my favorite local rock station. Big surprise. He hasn't missed a trick.

But that gets me thinking. This is all too good, too easy. What the hell am I doing in this car with Ally Martin driving me around like I'm her boyfriend or something? It doesn't make sense after our silent staring contest. Did Dillard set me up somehow? That idea starts to fester inside me and it only take a few blocks before I'm worried I might be sick if I don't get some answers. The cold sweat is pouring out of me already.

“Pull over, Ally. Please, can you pull over now?”

She doesn't hesitate. She swings the car over to the edge of a playground that reminds me far too much of the one at the monastery where Lizzie and I used to hang out.

Once we've stopped she gives me a concerned look, like she's worried I'm going to pass out or die. I'm getting sick of people looking at me like that.

“What is it? Are you sick? Are you okay?”

“I'm … yeah, I think so. Okay, I mean,” I say, and I realize that the feeling like I'm going to puke all over the car has subsided and I can mostly breathe again. “Ally, what's this all about?”

“This?”

“You and me. Why are we here? I know your car is in the shop and all, but there are a million people you could have asked for a ride today and any of the guys would have jumped at the chance. You know that Dillard would have loved to drive you.” I throw the joke in hoping that the rest of what I'm saying doesn't come across as too freaky.

“I'll pretend that you don't sound like you're regretting being here with me,” she says and unbuckles her seat belt.

“Shit, I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant.”

“I know.” She smiles again and my stomach lurches, but not in a bad way. “Come on.” She gets out of the car and I've got no choice but to follow. She starts to head for the swings, but I just can't do it. It reminds me too much of Lizzie. I grab Ally's hand and lead her over to the old metal merry-go-round. We sit down, both in the same space so that we aren't separated by one of the metal bars. I focus on the trees overhead rather than the fact that I'm actually holding hands with this girl because I know the sheer reality of it would freak me out, but she hasn't let go and I don't want to.

We sit there like that for a minute, both of us looking around the surprisingly empty playground, before she starts talking.

“You know, ever since I transferred to Maple Grove you've been watching me,” she says.

I feel my face go red and wonder if the next words out of her mouth will include the words “restraining order.”

She holds up her other hand to keep me from saying anything. “I know that you've been watching me because I've been watching you too. But what I never understood is why you've never ever, in over a year, come over to talk to me.”

“Ally, I … ” Abject terror somehow isn't going to be a valid explanation and beyond that I have nothing more rational to offer without spilling all of Lizzie's secrets. Thankfully, she put her hand on my arm and stops me.

“I know I'm guilty too.” She looks at me shyly through her dark lashes. “I mean, I wanted to talk to you, but I just heard so much about ‘Cal Ryan baseball star.' My dad never stops talking about you. Plus … ” She stops and all of a sudden she isn't looking at me. “I heard all the rumors. You know … about the three of you.”

I'll bet she did.

I can tell from her expression that she didn't want to
cop to it, but I sigh because it makes my stomach sort of twist to think of her hearing those things.

“Did you believe them?” My voice comes out a little shaky. The last thing I really want to do is to have to discuss each of the rumors with her, dissecting my life like a lab rat.

To her credit, she looks right at me and gives me what is probably the most honest answer she could have. “I don't know. I mean, I guess I didn't know what to believe. I just heard them whenever your name came up.” She puts her other hand on top of mine and brings it to sit on her raised knees. “And Spencer and Lizzie … ”

“What?”

“They kind of scared me,” she admits. It's so strange because the Ally that lives in my head isn't afraid of anything or anyone. I guess I didn't know as much about her as I thought.

“Why?”

“Well, Spencer is just Spencer. I mean, I keep waiting for him to turn out to be a jerk or something. Can anyone really be that nice?”

Her question breaks the tension a little and makes me laugh.

“Yeah, he's an alien, don't worry about it.”

She nods like she's really contemplating that Spencer might be from another planet.

“I'm kidding,” I say, squeezing her hand. “He's just a really good guy. We've been friends almost as long as I can remember.”

“Cool,” she says like she's letting out a breath. “And Lizzie. She seemed like she didn't really care what anyone thought. And the three of you looked like you never needed anyone else. Like you were this complete package. So I figured … you know … maybe you just weren't interested.”

I think I would have liked her, Cal. Don't fuck this up.

The combination of Ally's and Lizzie's words make my head spin a little. They're both just … right.

“Yeah,” I say to say something. Even though all of the rumors weren't true, Ally isn't really wrong about us. What she didn't know was that, ever since she came to Maple Grove, there had been three compartments to my life: baseball, my best friends Spencer and Lizzie, and this space where I wanted her to be. I open my mouth to tell her, but she keeps talking.

“Then, I joined drama club this semester and got to know Spencer a little bit, and you and I got thrown together on the team, and … ” She squeezes my hand, really hard. “Spencer and I started talking one day … ” She winces and a guilty look crosses her face as she tugs on her sleeve. I'm worried that whatever she's about to say is going to ruin this wonderful thing that hasn't even had a chance to get started. “I asked him about you.”

“Why?” I ask, shocked.

She looks exasperated for the first time. “You really don't get it, do you? I've been to your games. I've been waiting for you to talk to me, but you never did. You were watching me every time I looked over. Every single time for over a year.”

Ha! Told you!

I suddenly feel like a total idiot. All of those nights that I'd spent in my room alone dreaming of this girl before I even knew that she's as great as she is and she was sitting in her own room wondering why I was being such a dork. All those times that Lizzie said that I should talk to her and I didn't listen because it was Lizzie and I wasn't ever totally sure what her motivation was, I was dropping the ball. All that wasted time and it's one more thing that's all my fault.

I kick off the merry-go-round until we're spinning around slowly. I try to watch the trees go by, the street, the rest of the playground, but I can't keep myself from looking into Ally's gray eyes. I want to respond, to apologize, to do something, but I'm in over my head and so I grasp at something completely different. Something that is suddenly crystal clear. This was a set-up, but it had nothing to do with Justin Dillard
at all.

“What did Spencer tell you? He told you that I was having problems driving, didn't he? This is all his doing.”

She grabs my hand again and links our fingers together and smiles like she's proud of herself. “It wasn't total bullshit. I did need a ride. And Spencer thought it would solve both problems. It would get you behind the wheel and it would force you to have a real conversation with me.”

Well, that explains why he was willing to let me drive his precious car. A slow blush creeps up her face and while I'm processing the fact that my best friend was behind this whole thing she says, “He told me other things too.”

Crap. I can't believe there's more. “Like what?” I try to imagine Ally and Spencer sitting in a room talking about me and what he might have told her, but I come up short. And I don't want to get it wrong. I don't want to tell her something that she won't like, that will ruin this magic.

“Well, for instance, he said that you like things to be planned in advance.”

I relax a little at this because it's true and I find it interesting that, out of everything, that's what Spencer thought was so important.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I'm not really big on surprises.”

She nods and folds her arms. There's something practical and businesslike in her gesture. “Fine. Just so you know. After the game, when we get back, I'm planning to kiss you. I wanted you to know that. I mean, if that's okay with you.”

For a minute I assume she's joking. I mean, how often does it happen that reality is better than what you dream about? But no, her face is deadly serious. And there's something flickering within me, something pushing me forward, perhaps it's Lizzie, perhaps it's years of pent-up desire. Whatever it is, I give in to it because I've spent enough time being an idiot for one lifetime.

I swing for the fences and lean in to kiss her.

As good as it was to kiss her in my dreams, this is in another league altogether. Time stops. The entire world holds its breath and there isn't a single sensible thought going through my head and for once, I don't care.