by saying nothing she agrees with me.
We drive a few miles in silence before Kaylee says, "Austin, I..." Then she pauses.
"What? What is it?"
"I, um..." She's struggling, whether it's to find the right words or any words at all, I don't know. "I worry." She sighs. She looks disappointed in herself, as if she wants to say something else but can't. "I don't like seeing you hurt. I, uh, care about you."
"Kaylee, can I tell you something?"
She completely ignores the question. "I mean, we're best friends. I just want you to be okay."
The
F
word again, the ultimate blowoff. "The stuff I'm doing, it's not just for them, you know. I have my own goals, my own needs."
"I get that, but no more of this stuff, okay? I can't bear to see you hurt. I lo—" She stops herself short again, thinks, then says, "I loathe it."
"You loathe it?"
"Yeah, I loathe seeing you hurt." I raise one eyebrow at her. "What?" she says.
"Is that really what you were going to say?" I'm ribbing her, I know, but it seems like she wants to say so much more.
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"It just seems like a weird thing to say. 'I
loathe
when you get hurt'?"
She looks at me and giggles. "Shut up."
"Fine. I'll shut up." For the first time that weekend, our entire relationship in fact, I think maybe, just maybe, Kaylee might like me as more than just a friend.
Chapter Sixteen
I stare out the window admiring the Tacoma skyline as we head back to the more familiar parts of town. I pull out my camera and start filming video aimlessly as the sights speed by. We pass the Tacoma Dome. The once pride and joy of downtown Tacoma was host to now defunct Sabercats hockey, Tacoma Stars soccer, and even one season of the Seattle Supersonics. A bit rundown these days, but grand still, it now sees home and garden shows, art and craft fairs, concerts, and high school sporting events.
We take the 705 toward the north end, over the railroad tracks, past the museums, homes to history, art, and glass. I look over the Thea Foss waterway, new condos lining the west side, though nearly empty, having been built right before the recession. I look back over my shoulder at Mount Rainier. It seems like days instead of the few hours since Kaylee and I have been there.
I ask Kaylee to take the Stadium Way exit so I can absorb mighty Stadium High School, the castle on the hill. We drive back down to the waterfront, where beyond the docks, restaurants, and the Puget Sound sit Federal Way, Browns Point, and Vashon Island.
We pass through a tunnel under the old smelter site, the aluminum smokehouse, once a landmark of Tacoma's waterfront, now just a fading memory, demolished just a few years back. That smelter was vital to many families in this area, including mine. It paid the bills for my grandfather on my dad's side. After it closed, he drank himself to death.
We enter Point Defiance Park and roll down the long, windy hill to Owen Beach. We get out of the car to walk across the beached logs and stick our feet in the icy water. Kaylee, Jake, and I used to come here a lot during the summers. We would just sit on the logs and talk, or walk down the beach and carve our names in the clay cliffs. Sometimes Jake would climb the steep hill leading up and away from the beach and try to ride his skateboard down. He crashed every time, even broke his arm once.
With daylight fading fast, we climb back into the Mustang. I have Kaylee drive me through Five Mile Drive, where we take in views of the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, the Narrows Bridges, and Gig Harbor. A sadness sets over me as we cruise past the now empty, rundown Never Never Land, once a fantastical haven of life-size nursery rhyme and storybook characters. I brighten a little as we pass its neighbor, Fort Nisqually, an interactive living history museum that was once a Hudson's Bay Company outpost. This park holds many memories for me. They come rushing at me, full force, the picnics, the bike rides, the trips to the zoo. I begin to
We drive a few miles in silence before Kaylee says, "Austin, I..." Then she pauses.
"What? What is it?"
"I, um..." She's struggling, whether it's to find the right words or any words at all, I don't know. "I worry." She sighs. She looks disappointed in herself, as if she wants to say something else but can't. "I don't like seeing you hurt. I, uh, care about you."
"Kaylee, can I tell you something?"
She completely ignores the question. "I mean, we're best friends. I just want you to be okay."
The
F
word again, the ultimate blowoff. "The stuff I'm doing, it's not just for them, you know. I have my own goals, my own needs."
"I get that, but no more of this stuff, okay? I can't bear to see you hurt. I lo—" She stops herself short again, thinks, then says, "I loathe it."
"You loathe it?"
"Yeah, I loathe seeing you hurt." I raise one eyebrow at her. "What?" she says.
"Is that really what you were going to say?" I'm ribbing her, I know, but it seems like she wants to say so much more.
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"It just seems like a weird thing to say. 'I
loathe
when you get hurt'?"
She looks at me and giggles. "Shut up."
"Fine. I'll shut up." For the first time that weekend, our entire relationship in fact, I think maybe, just maybe, Kaylee might like me as more than just a friend.
Chapter Sixteen
I stare out the window admiring the Tacoma skyline as we head back to the more familiar parts of town. I pull out my camera and start filming video aimlessly as the sights speed by. We pass the Tacoma Dome. The once pride and joy of downtown Tacoma was host to now defunct Sabercats hockey, Tacoma Stars soccer, and even one season of the Seattle Supersonics. A bit rundown these days, but grand still, it now sees home and garden shows, art and craft fairs, concerts, and high school sporting events.
We take the 705 toward the north end, over the railroad tracks, past the museums, homes to history, art, and glass. I look over the Thea Foss waterway, new condos lining the west side, though nearly empty, having been built right before the recession. I look back over my shoulder at Mount Rainier. It seems like days instead of the few hours since Kaylee and I have been there.
I ask Kaylee to take the Stadium Way exit so I can absorb mighty Stadium High School, the castle on the hill. We drive back down to the waterfront, where beyond the docks, restaurants, and the Puget Sound sit Federal Way, Browns Point, and Vashon Island.
We pass through a tunnel under the old smelter site, the aluminum smokehouse, once a landmark of Tacoma's waterfront, now just a fading memory, demolished just a few years back. That smelter was vital to many families in this area, including mine. It paid the bills for my grandfather on my dad's side. After it closed, he drank himself to death.
We enter Point Defiance Park and roll down the long, windy hill to Owen Beach. We get out of the car to walk across the beached logs and stick our feet in the icy water. Kaylee, Jake, and I used to come here a lot during the summers. We would just sit on the logs and talk, or walk down the beach and carve our names in the clay cliffs. Sometimes Jake would climb the steep hill leading up and away from the beach and try to ride his skateboard down. He crashed every time, even broke his arm once.
With daylight fading fast, we climb back into the Mustang. I have Kaylee drive me through Five Mile Drive, where we take in views of the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, the Narrows Bridges, and Gig Harbor. A sadness sets over me as we cruise past the now empty, rundown Never Never Land, once a fantastical haven of life-size nursery rhyme and storybook characters. I brighten a little as we pass its neighbor, Fort Nisqually, an interactive living history museum that was once a Hudson's Bay Company outpost. This park holds many memories for me. They come rushing at me, full force, the picnics, the bike rides, the trips to the zoo. I begin to
Similar Books
