Sweet
Page 68I smiled up at him, taking it. “I don’t. Wrapping paper is overrated and environmentally unsound.”
He inclined his head toward the box. “Wait until tonight to open it?” His gaze dropped to the floor, thick lashes falling against his cheeks. “After whatever you’ve got planned to celebrate your bein’ twenty-one, I mean.”
The boy who’d seen the inside of Ms. Ingram’s office more times than any single person I knew in high school—usually for cutting up or smarting off in class—was shy when it came to gift-giving? I wondered if he’d ever given anyone a gift, and how long it had been since he’d received one. My heart ached, because I knew the answer to that without asking.
“I’m having dinner with Mom and Thomas tonight, but I’m going out with classmates Friday to celebrate—La Playa and then some barhopping. Would you… want to come?”
His eyes lifted to mine and he was quiet for a long time. I realized he might have Friday-night plans. Plans he wouldn’t want to confide and I damn sure wouldn’t want to hear.
“I could do that, if you’re sure you want me along,” he finally said. “I usually meet up with Thompson Friday night for supper, but I think he can survive without me.”
Senseless relief filled me—it was only a matter of time until our lives went in opposite directions, after all—but today, I’d take it. “I’m sure. If you’re sure Randy won’t mind.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile brimming with secrets. “He won’t mind.”
“Maybe a little. Just don’t drop it.”
As clumsy as I’d been lately, I decided shaking was right out. “What if—oh, never mind.” I waved a hand.
“What if what, Pearl?”
“What if you call me tonight when you go outside for your evening smoke? And I’ll open it while we’re on the phone.”
He smiled. “Deal.” He took the box and set it atop my suitcase and slid my backpack from my shoulder to the floor. “One more thing before you go.” His voice rumbled softly like the idling hum of a powerful engine.
His cool hands framed my face, and I inhaled the citrusy smell of the oil-removing soap he kept by the aluminum sink in the garage. His eyes crept over my features one by one like he might never see them again. When he reached my lips, his hands slid into my hair, cradling my head. As he bent to kiss me, I rose on my toes to meet him. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, and I knew he felt them connecting with his palms, baptizing his miraculous hands and giving me away.
Brow creased in confusion, he touched his thumbs to the tears. “What’s this then?”
His frown deepened and I realized my mistake.
“Why do you think I’m leaving?”
Me and my careless mouth. “I… I just assumed,” I stammered, knowing my eyes were telling him what a liar I was.
“Ah, dammit Pearl.” He sighed, mouth tight. “Did Sam tell you?”
I shook my head. “I overheard you telling her what you were doing for me. I’d meant to call Mama this week to let her know I missed her. What you told Sam just gave me incentive to do it. We needed this break because it’s past time she began regarding me as an adult, but we also needed the reconciliation.” And I needed to know the truth about my father.
An hour later, sitting in class, I realized that he’d deflected my question about when he planned to leave town. I had no business wanting him to stay when I would be gone before the end of August. I’d asked to move home to liberate him to go find his future. My longing to be part of that future didn’t figure in.
• • • • • • • • • •
Mama: Happy birthday, Mija. We’ll see you tonight?
Melody: Hey chica – FINALLY 21!!! WOOHOO!! Sorry I’m not there. ☹ Scratch that. Sorry you aren’t HERE. When you come to Dallas this fall we will party our butts off. K??? Miss you!
Lucas: You’re welcome – it’s a great apartment. Heads-up, the Hellers’ daughter Carlie may elect herself your new best friend, and a bossy orange cat may show up at the door. Francis considers the apartment his and I didn’t disabuse him of that notion. Carlie takes care of him and will keep that up if you don’t want to. Jacqueline and I plan to fly down for Thanksgiving. Dad’s meeting us there. If you’ll be in town, J wants to meet you.
Mitchell: Happy birthday, Pearl. Thinking about you a lot lately. Hope you’re doing well. I miss you and wish we could at least be friends.
I told Mama I’d be home after lab. I sent Mel a winking emoticon and Miss you too! I thanked Lucas for the tips on Carlie and Francis, assured him that I would welcome a friend and a guard cat, and told him I’d love to meet Jacqueline. My first, second and third instinct was to ignore Mitchell, but he wasn’t getting the message. By the time I was unpacking in my old room, folding clothes into the dresser and stacking textbooks on the desk, that text was like a burr under my saddle.
I set the lightning whelk shell he’d tried to destroy on my desk, finger tracing the whorls, and then I picked up my phone.
Me: I’m fine, and I wish you all the best, but we can’t be friends, Mitchell. We’re done. Please don’t text me again.