No Turning Back

Joseph gave himself thirty minutes to walk the half-mile to his scheduled meeting with Leo and Dr. Baker. He determined shortly into his foray that he was ill-equipped for the conditions. Winter in Oklahoma, subject to the pressures and systems around her, was mercurial. Yesterday was seventy degrees. Today, overpowering the winter sun, a frigid wind pushed the temperature below freezing. Though long-sleeved, his thin cotton shirt was underperforming. But, as quickly as he felt the bitter conditions turning all exposed flesh raw, he let these sensations go. There was no turning back for additional protection. He needed to be on time. Too much was at stake.

Here he was, weeks after the initial consultation with Dr. Baker, just minutes away from the critical meeting with Leo. He moved quickly, taking a shortcut to the downtown office by following the Tahlequah Creek through the university campus. The thin trickle, which would swell in the rainy season, was fighting to find purchase but persisted, struggling over rock, debris, and shards of ice crystals forming along its edges.

Contained within a sharp gust of air, within its burgeoning swell, he heard someone yell, “Coach Lightfoot.” More often than not, he would see one of his former students when he passed through the university grounds. When Joseph lifted his head to see who called, the expanse of frozen terrain was empty, barren of all traces of life.

With five minutes to spare, he grabbed a cup of hot chamomile tea and collected the thoughts he hoped would help his daughter heal.

****

Dying light sliced shadowy ribbons across the sidewalk as Leo cycled through the small downtown to her weekly therapy session with Dr. Baker. For the first time, her dad would be there. She was anxious to bring up the subject of her mother’s death. Leo hated causing her father pain, but she needed to know. She would turn eighteen soon. Now was the time. She deserved to have answers.

A sharp series of familiar whistles pierced her contemplation; she slammed on the bike's brakes. Across the street, standing outside of Ned’s Bar, smoking a cigarette, was Jake.

He sauntered toward her. “Well, howdy sunshine.” Jake drew out the words as his eyes traveled the length of her. He wickedly grinned when he reached her face and blew out a plume of smoke. “Man, have you ever grown up. You’re a sight for hungry eyes.”

Leo glanced at her watch. She had five minutes. “Thought you moved to Tulsa.” His flaxen hair was longer, hanging floppily around his face, which seemed a little harder but still looked handsome to her. He hadn’t changed much since she last saw him three years ago. Except now, she thought, I’m taller.

“I did move right after, you know, at the end of that summer.” He wasn’t apologetic. “I’m visiting friends.”

Leo nodded and pushed her bike forward. “Good to see you, Jake, but I have to get going.”

“Wait. Leo, wait!” She turned. “Why don’t you come to Tulsa with me?” He threw the words toward her like a dart. He continued, giving her a signature smile that worked so well in the past. “I’m working at Bama now. They love me. I bet I’ll be a supervisor soon. For sure I could get you a job. You could move into my apartment, ditch this nowheresville town, move to the big city.”

Leo laughed nervously. He was joking. He had to be. Jake seemed excited by her doubt. She remembered this heightened look of his, feeding off her as if he had all the answers.

“Come on, Leo. Remember how I noticed you that first year when no one else did? Remember how good we were?” He moved closer. The sense he needed her stirred past emotions. They did have some good times together. And, when he was around, he knew what to say to make her feel better.

She remembered the first time they were alone in his father's house. The late afternoon sun slanted through angled blinds. Jake was lying by her side, touching her, his blond hair scrubbed clean by the light. “I live with my dad because my old lady kicked me out.” He kissed her neck. “So, in a way, I am motherless too.” He looked into her eyes as if sizing up the effect of his words. His vulnerability was a testament to his devotion. The last threads of hesitation fell away as she wrapped her arms around him. He was like her, navigating life without a mother.

A year into therapy, Leo admitted the relationship probably wasn't healthy. She explained to Dr. Baker things hadn’t started that way, recalling the day everything changed. Leo had stayed home under the pretense of studying for an exam. Uncle Paul was on a business trip, and her dad was at a cross-country meet. Jake took the opportunity to rummage through their bathroom cabinet when his eyes lit up. “Hot damn, your old man has some good stuff here.”

He expertly opened the childproof lid, popped two tablets in his mouth, and pushed one into Leo’s before she could protest. “They’ll help you git through a lot of shit.”

Jake was right. Judicious use of the pills helped her navigate the tumultuous landscape of adolescence until that fateful night. Still, Leo wouldn’t have taken her dad’s prescription medication to the party if not for Jake’s urging. Initially, being his mysterious secret made Leo feel cherished and flattered, but as the months progressed, the veneer wore thin. She wanted to be acknowledged and be part of her boyfriend’s visible life.

Finally, eleven months in, he said she could tag along with him to a party. She was overjoyed. “But you cain’t come if you don’t bring something good, and you’re too young to buy alcohol. Bring your dad’s stuff. You better not embarrass me in front of my friends. Don’t make me regret inviting you.” Working with Dr. Baker enabled Leo to see why she self-medicated. Together, they developed wiser coping mechanisms for when she felt overwhelmed.

Yes, the relationship wasn’t healthy then, but they were three years older. She’d done a lot of growing and changing, and she was confident he had too. Taking the alcohol and pills out of the equation, who could predict how good things might be? How could a freshman-senior relationship of the past be compared to a possibility?

Leo shook her head as if to knock some sense into herself. “That’s a sweet offer, but I have months until graduation. You probably won’t feel the same way then.”

“I probably will.” He paused and stroked her from her wrist to the soft indentation underneath her chin, the pressure not particularly gentle. “You’re a knock-out, Leo. I remember now why we dated. Hey, you don’t have to wait until you graduate. You don’t need a worthless piece of paper for this job. I’m pretty high up. I can get you in.”

The touch was familiar. He was all Leo had known.

“I don’t know, Jake, my…” Her words were cut short by one arm that snaked around her back, his fingers resting between her rib cage and the swell of her breast. He pulled her into a kiss, alcohol mixed with smoke that tasted like the last time they made out on a dirty, sheetless mattress on the factory floor.

“Think about it,” he whispered into her neck. His breath was hot. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away.” He stood back, as if aware of the effect he had. “Give me your cell. Come on, Leo,” he coaxed. “Hand it over.”

Leo reached into her back pocket.

After a few moments of concentration, he pushed the cell into her palm. “You have my new number. Give me a holler whenever you want, and I’ll come git you.”