Call it post-game letdown. I have Mom’s car, and on the way back home from the performance, I decide to stop at the French bakery for coffee. Tomorrow we’re having a big cast party, but tonight, I’m sort of dreading going home to face up to Mom. She’ll be all happy after her big date with Arnold, doing some kind of happy-Mom-dance, maybe showing off her engagement ring or committing random acts of lust on our living room sofa. I so can’t deal with that. I have a lot of things to think about here.
I’m sitting, drinking a coffee, and reading a free copy of the New Times when Nick walks in. Great. He pretends he doesn’t see me. Or maybe he does see me because he orders his coffee and goes back out to his car. Huge sigh of relief. I can’t deal with Nick either. A few minutes later, I finish my coffee and leave too.
But when I get outside, the car won’t start. I remember what Mom usually does when that happens, pressing on the gas pedal before she starts the car and stuff, but, like my mother, it doesn’t work. It’s almost midnight and too late to call a mechanic. Finally, I decide to walk home.
It seemed like an okay idea. But when I start down the road, it suddenly seems a lot farther than when I drive, and it’s like every slasher movie I’ve ever seen. It’s after midnight now, and the shadows are moving. Night things rustle in bushes. Two cars slow when they see me, then roar past.
Then another car slows to a crawl and follows me. At first, it’s a block behind, the tires crunching across a gravel driveway. I wave to it to pass, but it doesn’t. I turn the corner. The car turns too.
I start to run. I’m about to run to the nearest house and bang on the door until they let me in. But then I hear a voice.
“Cat!”
God. How perfect. It’s Nick. Is he stalking me? Did he follow me from the French bakery? Is it good that it’s him and not some random pervert, or is it worse?
I turn. “Leave me alone, Nick.”
His interior lights are on, and I see him holding up a hand in mock helplessness. “That’s not fair, Cat. I haven’t been bothering you.” He thinks about it, then amends. “Not for a long time, anyway. You know that’s true. I haven’t called you since April. I wasn’t even going to talk to you tonight. I drank my coffee in the stinking car, so I wouldn’t make you nervous. But then I saw you flirting with death out here. You shouldn’t be walking at night. There’s all kinds of people in the world, drunks who’d run you off the road like you’re a target in a computer game. There’s lots of guys worse than me out there too, even if you don’t believe it.” He reaches for the light switch and turns it off. “But hey, you want to walk, walk.”
I see the window start to go up, and I realize he’s right. I’m still pretty far from home. The night is strange and scary, and you hear all the time about guys who would cut you into little pieces. Nick’s not one of those. He’s not a rapist either.
“Wait!” I barely get the word out before the window reaches the top.
He doesn’t make me wait. I see the window start down immediately. Then the light goes back on, and I can see his face.
“I’m sorry.” I walk closer. “I do want a ride. It’s nice of you to offer, after…”
I don’t finish the sentence, but he gestures at the passenger seat, and I get in. My hand sweeps across cool, soft leather, and I think of Sean’s junky old car. I catch a glimpse of Nick’s face before he turns the light off again. He isn’t grinning or anything.
“Should we go back to your car?” he says. “I have jumper cables.”
I shake my head. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow. But thanks.”
We drive in silence a few blocks. Finally, I say, “So why are you out all alone on a Saturday? Where are your friends?”
I can almost hear his shrug. “Don’t know. The past few months I haven’t related much to those guys. I quit the football team.”
I squeak in surprise.
“I just wasn’t real good at it, you know. It stressed me, and I’m trying to cut down on things that stress me. Some things, you’re just never going to be good at, no matter how hard you try.”
I think of dance class. And leaving Key to get away from cheerleading. “Yeah.”
“Anyway, since I quit, I don’t have that much in common with those guys anymore, other than partying and getting trashed, which I’m also trying to cut down on. I don’t feel right with them anymore. Except Tom, I’m still friends with him.”
I nod again. I wonder if the changes he’s making are because of me. “Yeah. I feel that way all the time.”
“You?” He laughs. “Nah, everyone loves you. Me, I’m the smartass.”
“I’m not smartass enough at my school. Everyone’s so much more exciting than me there.”
He shifts his arm on the seat, but doesn’t move to touch me. “Yeah, I heard you were going to that arty school. It’s really true?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but now I like it.” I get ready for him to say something about how nerdy the school is.
But he says, “That’s amazing. I always liked that about you, how you knew what you wanted to do, that singing stuff. I’m not like that about anything yet.” He thinks about it. “Maybe writing. I got some stuff published in the school literary journal. Poetry. Maybe I’ll be a poet. Ha! My dad would think that’s completely stupid—you can’t make money being a poet. But he thinks everything I do is stupid.”
“I don’t. Lots of people…” I realize we’re driving toward the causeway, off the Key. Where is he taking me? Then I remember what I told everyone. I touch his arm. “Oh, I’m back with my mom now. I didn’t … it didn’t work out with my dad.”
He gives a nervous laugh, then slows to make a U-turn. “Didn’t work out? Sounds familiar.” He looks at my hand, then away. I pull it back to my lap.
“Your dad’s still…?” Still hitting you?
“Still a jerk? Yeah. He’s … still him. It’s better lately. We had it out over the summer, and he isn’t on my case as much as he used to be.”
I nod. “I’m glad.”
“But it’s still … strained. I’m marking time until I can go away to college. I’m already collecting brochures. I want to go someplace that’ll give me a full ride so I don’t have to depend on him. I’m thinking maybe the west coast—Washington State or California.”
“Wow. That’s so far.”
“Yeah, I want far. There’s nothing for me here. Besides, it would be cool to go someplace new, try something new—like you did with that school. It was really brave, you leaving everything and going there.”
I think of the summer program in New York. Someplace new. “You don’t think I was just running away?”
“I don’t know. Sounds like you were maybe running to something.”
“Maybe so.” I hadn’t thought about it that much, but he’s right. I was running—am running—toward opera, toward something that’s right for me. We pass under a street lamp, and I see him in the light, the shadows falling across his sharp cheekbones. He is a man of light and shadow, like he always was. I realize I’m leaning closer to him, staring at him and remembering what it was like to have someone like him want me, kiss me. I look away.
“And even if you are running away, hell, what’s wrong with that when you’ve got something to run away from? I’m running for sure. I know I don’t want to live with my dad, and if I stay here, I might end up like him.”
“Like him?” We’re on my street. I have two minutes, max, left with him, and the knowledge makes me brave. When he nods, I say, “I don’t think so. That’s why you took the class again, isn’t it? So you wouldn’t end up like him?”
“Right. I graduate next week, you know. Or maybe I never really graduate. Maybe I’ll always have to think about … what happened with you, and spend my whole life making it right. You said you didn’t believe me when I said I loved you, when I said I was sorry. But I did love you, Caitlin. I did. I loved you so much, and I screwed up so bad. It took me a while to realize … what happened, it was a wake-up call for me. Mario—that’s my counselor—he said it was like God kicking me in the butt so I would know I screwed up, and he was right. I hate what I did to you.”
“God kicking you in the butt, huh?” We’re in my driveway now. The lights are still off, but Mom should be home any second. It’s way after midnight. I should run for it, thank him for the ride, and go. It’s so close. I say, “I know. Believe me, I know all about not wanting to be that person.”
He turns to me and smiles. “Do you?”
“Yeah. Thank you … for the ride and for talking to…”
My voice goes choky, and then he’s kissing me. Or maybe I’m kissing him. I don’t know who starts it, but I’m not fighting it. We’re kissing, and I’m in his arms.
Finally, we separate. He stares at me. I stare at him.
He speaks first.
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me either.”
My mind is racing. I’m thinking, What have I done? What have I done? I transferred schools and spent a whole year trying to stay away from this guy, and I’d just about done it. Just a few days ago, I was saying I didn’t need a boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Nick, I don’t think…”
“I’m sorry, Caitlin. I think it’s a bad idea, you and me. When I offered you a ride, I was just … offering you a ride. You have to believe that. I spent so long trying to get over you. I can’t go backward.”
I gape at him. “You’re saying you think it’s a bad idea … this?”
He looks down. “Yeah. I’m sorry. But I can’t let this relationship with you define me.”
Define me. I start to laugh. “Oh, thank God. I think so too.”
“You do?” He laughs, a nervous laugh.
“Yeah. I don’t know. You were there in the moonlight and I guess it’s no secret I always thought you were hot, but… Oh, god, you’re so right.” I can’t stop laughing like a crazy person.
“Yeah. For the longest time, I was telling myself, You have to move on, man. She doesn’t want you. But I never really thought I would. But I can, and I think that’s okay, Cat.”
“Me either. This is the first time since I broke up with you that I really felt like I had broken up with you. I’ll always care about you, but you’re right.”
We sit there another few seconds, laughing. Then he says, “Guess I should go.”
I nod and open the door. “Thanks again … for the ride. And for everything.”
I wonder if Mom’s going to pull up any second. She’ll freak if she sees me with Nick. But probably, she’s too busy being overjoyed about Arnold.
I start toward the door. When I’m almost there, I turn back. “Nick, wait!”
“Yeah?”
I walk back to his car.
“I just want to say…” I have no idea what I want to say. “I won’t be afraid of you anymore. I’m not the person I was a year ago. I’ve changed, and so have you.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “Sing some opera for me someday, huh?”
I nod. I start away from the car, then turn and give him a wave. It will be all right. Mom forgot to turn on the porch light, but between the streetlights and the stars, I can see clearly. I find the key. It will be all right.
Opera_Grrrl’s Online Journal
Subject: Nick
Date: December 11
Time: 1:27 a.m.
Listening 2: “Ride of the Valkyries” from Wagner’s
Die Walkure
Feeling: Satisfied
Weight: 113 lbs.
I’m listening 2 Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” The valkyries were these Norse goddesses who took fallen warriors up 2 Valhalla (sort of like heaven). They were the women with the horns! They were big and strong and powerful.
I feel like a valkyrie right now, like I could do anything—even w/out horns.
It’s really over w/Nick ........... he drove me home 2night, and we kissed and ............ it’s over. We *both* realized it’s
A squeal of brakes in the driveway. Then I hear voices, angry voices.
“Stay away from me!”
I stop typing and run to the window.
It’s my mother. She has on the velvet dress from this afternoon, but her shoes are in her hand, and there’s yelling as she slams the car door. I catch a few words.
“Get away from me. You stay away, or I’ll call the cops!”
“Crazy slut!”
I run downstairs. I open the door just as Mom stumbles in.
“Oh, Caitlin!” Her hair’s messy, and she’s crying. Her mascara’s running down her face. She slams the door behind her and leans on it while I pull the deadbolt. “Oh, Caitlin, you were so right about him!”