THAT NIGHT
“Will you stop here for a minute? Please?” Andy asks suddenly as we pass the Wal-Mart. “Let’s get some ice cream.”
“There’s a 7-Eleven up a little farther. . . .”
“No, no, here, please,” he begs.
It means I have to make a U-turn in order to go back, which isn’t a big deal, but neither is just going to the 7-Eleven. I turn back at the next opportunity.
“You’re high maintenance,” I say.
“I know, I’m sorry.” And after a minute he says, “You know what, it’s stupid. Forget it. We don’t have to stop.” But I’ve already turned back and I’m heading into the parking lot.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, although I am worried about how late it is and every minute that ticks by makes me more and more anxious. I’m only a little late right now, but each stop makes the potential of my parents’ fury grow exponentially.
I park and then look over at him, still shivering in his wet clothes. “You look like you’re freezing,” I say.
“I am,” he says.
“I’ll go in,” I say.
“No, I can go,” he says and gets out of the car before I can object. I turn off the ignition and follow him. As we’re walking in, I see Zeena Fuller, Andy’s ex-girlfriend, walk out dressed in her work uniform, which explains why Andy wanted to come here and not 7-Eleven.
Zeena notices Andy and me as we walk across the parking lot toward her. I watch as Andy brushes by her and then notice the way she turns her head just slightly to look at him as he continues walking.
He stops suddenly and looks back at Zeena, who continues walking to her car. He looks up at the sky like he’s looking for some kind of answer, then back at Zeena who is unlocking her car door.
“I’ll just be a minute. Is that cool?” he says.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, although I wouldn’t really classify this as cool. More like awkward or weird.
“Okay, thanks,” he says and takes off running after her.
I watch him as he calls out for her. The way she looks up at the sound of her name and waits for him.
I turn and go inside. The year-round air-conditioning that is practically mandatory in Florida gives me goose bumps. I head to the ice cream aisle, which is even colder, and look over all the flavors.
I pick coffee. I look at my watch. It’s 1:35. I’m officially in a shit load of trouble. I suddenly realize that Andy doesn’t have a car, and I’ll either have to take him back downtown or drop him off at his house, which I’m not even sure where that is. Then I’ll really be late and my parents will totally freak out. I sigh and do what I hate doing. I call them.
My mom answers in a sleepy but loud voice. “Hello?” she says quickly.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Relax, Mom. I’m fine. I’m gonna be late is all.”
She sighs. “Frenchie . . .”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I flounder for an excuse, but a flat tire will only worry her more, and running out of gas will only prove to her that I’m irresponsible. “I just lost track of time. I’m really, really sorry.”
There’s another heavy sigh, followed by bits and pieces of a conversation with Dad. Frenchie, late, ssshhh, go back to sleep. “How long will you be?” she asks.
“Well . . .” I cringe. “I’m still downtown and have to drop Robyn off . . . and Joel . . . and his girlfriend,” I say, thinking this will at least buy me as much time as possible.
“Jesus, French!” another loud sigh, “Fine. Just get home, but don’t speed. Be careful. And don’t pull this shit again,” she says. My mom is very motherly and all, but she can curse like a sailor when she’s pissed.
“Okay,” I say. “I am really sorry, Mom. At least I called, though, right?”
“Goodnight, Frenchie,” she says and hangs up before I can say anything else.
I decide I can’t stand around and wait for Andy, so I look at all the other flavors, trying to figure out what Andy would like, but I have no idea. For all I know, he could be allergic to peanuts. Vanilla is too plain. Strawberry is too girlie. Chocolate for a non-chocolate lover can be overwhelming. And everything else seems too personal. Maybe mint chocolate chip? I finally decide on vanilla fudge swirl.
I pay and head back outside where Zeena and Andy are still talking by her car. I get in my car and start it up. Andy notices me and then turns his head back to Zeena. For an awful minute, I think I might watch them kiss, but no. It looks like Zeena is upset and Andy just shakes his head and starts walking back toward my car. I look away and pretend I haven’t been watching them. When Andy opens the door and gets in, I fling the pint of ice cream at him and say, “Hope you like this. I didn’t know what you’d want.”
He looks at the label and nods. “This is great, thanks.”
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says, but he sighs like he’s just lost something. I put the car in drive and pull out. I look in my rearview mirror and catch a glimpse of Zeena, still standing where she was, looking at my car as we drive away. She gets smaller and smaller, and still she just stands there.