It’s strange to be stood up for a date by your mother. But that’s my world.
It’s July 15, and Mom said yesterday that we’d go out for dinner to celebrate her birthday. She said that she would try to get off early, that it shouldn’t be a problem.
It’s already eight at night, and it looks like something indeed was a problem.
Maybe you’re the problem, Chris.
I shove the Debbie Downer voice away even though I’ve tended to think that way recently when it comes to Mom. I’ve always wondered why she and Dad didn’t have more children. Did they even try? Or did they have me and then wipe their foreheads and shake their heads and go, “Phew! No more of those!”
I don’t know.
I just know that the present I bought her (and had nicely wrapped, thank you not so very much) is sitting on the breakfast table all by its lonesome little self. I don’t want to call—nope, I’m not doing that. I’ve checked our landline, and it works. I don’t bother checking my cell since I haven’t told Mom about it (since it’s from Pastor Marsh and all).
It’s eight fifteen when I decide to head out.
I used most of my remaining money from working at the Crag’s Inn on the present. Fifty dollars. Not much, but it got me a nice gift card from Ann Taylor, a store Mom used to shop at a lot back home. I’ve heard her complain many times about her clothes—a complaint she never used to have back home when Dad worked and Mom spent.
A small Happy Birthday note is in the card. I hate regular Hallmark cards with phony phrases. I don’t have a lot to say to my mom. Everything I want to tell her isn’t particularly good, so the note simply says, Happy birthday, Mom. I hope this next year is a better one for both of us!
It’s true. Maybe it’s a selfish note. Maybe I should tell her she’s special and beautiful and that I haven’t given up on her. She is special, and she certainly is beautiful, but I think I have given up on her. Sorta like I’ve given up on this town.
The less I have to think about Mom or Solitary, the better off I am.
I get the key for the motorcycle and leave the gift on the table.
Hopefully Mom will come home before I do, open the gift, and feel sorry for forgetting about her son.
I know that’s kinda mean. But maybe it’ll get her attention.
Something has to.
I drive up to the bed-and-breakfast. It’s barely noticeable behind the trees and fading light. I’m hoping that I can surprise Lily. I told her that I was going to be spending the evening with my mom, and I even half considered inviting her. But I sorta want to keep Lily all to myself. I don’t want my mother and all that suddenly intersecting with her.
I shut off my motorcycle at a spot across the street. For a second I think of texting her to let her know I’m here.
But only for a second, because just then I actually see her.
Walking down the sidewalk arm in arm with some guy.
Some older guy. Like in his late twenties or early thirties.
I’m a bit breathless as I try and make out what I’m seeing.
Lily’s smile—flirtatious and dreamy—and her hand that gently strokes back her hair. She touches her grinning lips, then laughs at something the man said, then nudges him with a hip.
She’s wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top, like some kind of skimpy outfit for a night out on the town. But Solitary isn’t a town, and Lily isn’t …
The dude next to her sure isn’t her big brother.
He’s got a big, fat grin on his face, the kind that professional athletes have that says, I have it all.
A big, fat grin.
I still want to believe or hope or try to imagine that it’s nothing, but then she kisses him.
On the lips.
For a long time.
I’m watching the whole thing, and they’re oblivious, this couple across the street, walking away from the B and B.
Oh man.
My mind is doing cartwheels as I just sit there on my bike, trying not to flip out. I see the guy get into some fancy, expensive silver car. Then, as he pulls out, the empty space allows Lily to see me.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even react. She just looks at me and stares. Since I’m not that close, I can’t see the true expression on her face.
I shake my head and try to start the bike back up.
I don’t need her. I don’t need her, just like I don’t need my mom or anybody else.
“Chris!”
I keep trying to start the motorcycle, cursing, and then suddenly Lily is standing next to me, touching my arm.
I yank it back and look at her. “Don’t touch me.”
I have a weird déjà vu but don’t recall what it is.
“Chris, please.”
My heart is pounding, and I really have no idea what to say.
“What was—who was that?”
“Calm down.”
She’s so calm and unfazed, but I continue to shake my head and laugh. “Oh, okay, sure.”
“Chris, please, just—get off the bike, okay?”
“Who was that?”
“Just an old friend.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’d say he’s an old friend. Looks like you guys were really good friends.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” I ask. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“Don’t—oh, sure—fine. Yeah, I’m the jerk.”
“I thought you were with your mother tonight.”
“She had other ideas.”
And I guess you did too.
“There’s nothing going on with him.”
Sure doesn’t look that way.
I can’t say anything.
“Chris, listen—he’s an old friend of the family. We go way back. That’s all. He stopped by to check on my mom and me.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“She’s inside.”
I look at her, and suddenly I see Jared all over again. Another person coming into my life to lie and cheat and steal from me.
And I don’t have that much to take. That’s the craziness of this.
“You want to go inside and see her? Let her tell you who Kurt is?”
“Kurt?”
The name sounds obnoxious and fake.
I look ahead down the street and remain lost for words. I hear the katydids droning on in the trees around us.
“Chris—”
“What?”
She grips my shirt in her hand, and she yanks at it. Hard. She pulls my whole body down, and I suddenly can’t believe how strong she is. She forces me to look her in the eyes, and then she curses at me and tells me to cut it out.
“Don’t be some stupid guy getting jealous over nothing.”
“Over nothing?”
“Yes, Chris, over nothing. I’m not going to play games here—not here, not with you, not this way. You got it?”
She releases my shirt, and I bring my aching shoulder back up.
“You want to come in for a few minutes or what?”
Not now, not like this.
I shake my head.
“Well—I can’t hop on your motorcycle if that’s what you’re wanting,” she says. “My mom is pretty upset, okay?”
Yeah, well so am I.
I don’t know what to say.
“Call me tomorrow,” Lily says.
I nod.
“And stop, Chris. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“The sad puppy dog eyes. The little lost boy routine. Just stop. Grow up, okay?”
Ouch.
“That—that’s the last thing I need, okay?” Lily says.
“What?”
“Guilt. Suspicions. Jealousy. I swear—men are all the same. Doesn’t matter how old or young.”
She curses again and starts to walk across the street.
For a moment I want to follow her, but I don’t.
I watch her disappear under the trees, and I wait for a few minutes, then try to start the motorcycle again. This time it works.
I hope I’m never going to be running for my life and needing to start this old bike. Because the horror movie cliché is totally going to be there when I can’t start the stinking thing and the zombies come to bite into my flesh and carry my heart away in their mouths.
That’s the image I’m thinking of as I drive away from Lily.
A blood-sucking zombie with my heart in its mouth.
I drive into the night, feeling tired and very much alone.