who
to call, and scrolled through my contacts.
No, not that doosh.
“Screw you.” I touched Nash’s name to call him.
Avery, dang it. Why him?
“Hey, there,” Nash greeted, his voice sounding happier than
usual. I hadn’t realized until that second just how very serious he was all the
time.
“Hi … are you doing anything right now?” I asked. “I’m
sitting beside I-5 with smoke coming out of my engine. I broke down on the way
back from Medford.”
“Are you past the first Ashland exit?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, okay? I just have
to drive up to the next exit and come down. Just hang tight.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
We hung up, and I ignored the mean thoughts running through
Marcus’s head. (My head, actually.) Before, this would have been great. It was
an excuse to call Nash and do something outside of class. We’d gotten such a
slow start … I wasn’t sure what it was. In high school, you start going out and
that’s that. In college, you do about the same thing, but you don’t have to
sneak around behind any adults’ backs. I thought dating would be easier.
Should be.
“Do you have to ruin everything for me?”
I just don’t see why you had to call him. We could have called
a tow truck and taken the car into a mechanic in Medford.
“Oh. Nice that you tell me that now. I didn’t know what to
do. You said you didn’t either. So I’m sitting here kinda scared about being broken
down on the freeway, and you didn’t have any ideas—”
So call him back and say you don’t need him.
“I do need him!” I hit the steering wheel. “You’re a flipping
voice. That’s it! You can’t help me do anything. You can’t touch me. You can’t
be here. ”
Relative silence. Just the traffic whipping by with a zoom,
zoom, zoom and burst of wind. Another vehicle honked. What the hell? The car
was all the way onto the shoulder. What did they expect me to do? You’d think
someone would stop to help.
The smoke was clearing. Maybe that was why no one stopped.
But that didn’t matter. Nash was coming. I leaned my head back and closed my
eyes.
I’m real enough to draw pictures and play the guitar with your
hands.
I shook my head and looked out the side window. My hand
lifted to my face and rested against my cheek, the way someone would hold your
face while looking into your eyes.
Feel that?
“Yeesss.”
Does it feel real?
My hand moved against my face and I closed my eyes. It was
my hand but I felt tenderness from Marcus, something I wouldn’t think he could
feel for me in the midst of all his frustrating limitations. I saw him in front
of me, except that I couldn’t picture him clearly. Just features coming through
a dream fog. Warm eyes: light brown, like crystal amber. Wavy blond hair in startling
contrast to his light brown eyes.
“I see you!” My eyes flew open. It was just the freeway lying
out before me and that damn blank sky. The image was gone.
“Marcus?”
I felt him around but he didn’t say anything. My hand was
still touching my face. Feeling like an idiot, I jerked it away.
Bam.
I jumped so hard I was surprised I didn’t hit the ceiling.
Nash was leaned over outside the passenger door, his knuckles against the window,
ready to tap again. I hit the unlock button. At least that worked. He wore a
black jacket, dark gray shirt, and black pants, like he should be walking
around in rainy Seattle or New York. Not Hippie-and-Beatnik-ville here in
Oregon.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, sitting down but not closing the door.
Had he seen? My face flooded with heat. I could clearly picture my freckles
standing out in contrast.
“Yes, I’m good … it’s the car.”
“If you pop the hood, I’ll take a look.”
I nodded and pulled the little lever. Nash stepped back out
and walked to the front, where I couldn’t see him once he put the hood up.
I felt let down, but couldn’t figure out what I’d been
expecting. For him to touch
to call, and scrolled through my contacts.
No, not that doosh.
“Screw you.” I touched Nash’s name to call him.
Avery, dang it. Why him?
“Hey, there,” Nash greeted, his voice sounding happier than
usual. I hadn’t realized until that second just how very serious he was all the
time.
“Hi … are you doing anything right now?” I asked. “I’m
sitting beside I-5 with smoke coming out of my engine. I broke down on the way
back from Medford.”
“Are you past the first Ashland exit?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, okay? I just have
to drive up to the next exit and come down. Just hang tight.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
We hung up, and I ignored the mean thoughts running through
Marcus’s head. (My head, actually.) Before, this would have been great. It was
an excuse to call Nash and do something outside of class. We’d gotten such a
slow start … I wasn’t sure what it was. In high school, you start going out and
that’s that. In college, you do about the same thing, but you don’t have to
sneak around behind any adults’ backs. I thought dating would be easier.
Should be.
“Do you have to ruin everything for me?”
I just don’t see why you had to call him. We could have called
a tow truck and taken the car into a mechanic in Medford.
“Oh. Nice that you tell me that now. I didn’t know what to
do. You said you didn’t either. So I’m sitting here kinda scared about being broken
down on the freeway, and you didn’t have any ideas—”
So call him back and say you don’t need him.
“I do need him!” I hit the steering wheel. “You’re a flipping
voice. That’s it! You can’t help me do anything. You can’t touch me. You can’t
be here. ”
Relative silence. Just the traffic whipping by with a zoom,
zoom, zoom and burst of wind. Another vehicle honked. What the hell? The car
was all the way onto the shoulder. What did they expect me to do? You’d think
someone would stop to help.
The smoke was clearing. Maybe that was why no one stopped.
But that didn’t matter. Nash was coming. I leaned my head back and closed my
eyes.
I’m real enough to draw pictures and play the guitar with your
hands.
I shook my head and looked out the side window. My hand
lifted to my face and rested against my cheek, the way someone would hold your
face while looking into your eyes.
Feel that?
“Yeesss.”
Does it feel real?
My hand moved against my face and I closed my eyes. It was
my hand but I felt tenderness from Marcus, something I wouldn’t think he could
feel for me in the midst of all his frustrating limitations. I saw him in front
of me, except that I couldn’t picture him clearly. Just features coming through
a dream fog. Warm eyes: light brown, like crystal amber. Wavy blond hair in startling
contrast to his light brown eyes.
“I see you!” My eyes flew open. It was just the freeway lying
out before me and that damn blank sky. The image was gone.
“Marcus?”
I felt him around but he didn’t say anything. My hand was
still touching my face. Feeling like an idiot, I jerked it away.
Bam.
I jumped so hard I was surprised I didn’t hit the ceiling.
Nash was leaned over outside the passenger door, his knuckles against the window,
ready to tap again. I hit the unlock button. At least that worked. He wore a
black jacket, dark gray shirt, and black pants, like he should be walking
around in rainy Seattle or New York. Not Hippie-and-Beatnik-ville here in
Oregon.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, sitting down but not closing the door.
Had he seen? My face flooded with heat. I could clearly picture my freckles
standing out in contrast.
“Yes, I’m good … it’s the car.”
“If you pop the hood, I’ll take a look.”
I nodded and pulled the little lever. Nash stepped back out
and walked to the front, where I couldn’t see him once he put the hood up.
I felt let down, but couldn’t figure out what I’d been
expecting. For him to touch
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