Текст книги "The Bridge from You to Me"

Автор книги: Lisa Schroeder

11
Lauren

 
When i got here a few weeks ago,
Josh and Erica gave me a shiny new
bicycle – sky blue with a fat seat
and wide handlebars.
 
 
They smiled at me
like they’d just given me
the keys to the sweetest ride
known to teens.
 
 
I wished I were six
with pigtails
and an endless imagination,
instead of seventeen
and filled with uncertainty
about this small town.
 
 
“It’s called a Cruiser,” Aunt Erica said.
“Isn’t it fun? Now you can get yourself places.
Anywhere you want to go, really.”
 
 
That first day,
I looked at my aunt and uncle
and my three cousins,
who live in the middle-of-nowhere Oregon,
and thought the only place I might
want to go was to see the birds again
at Grandma’s house in California.
 
 
That’d be one long-ass bike ride.
And besides, she didn’t want me.
Said she wasn’t prepared to take me
in for an “unknown length of time.”
 
 
Like I was prepared to leave
for an unknown length of time?
 
 
Today’s the first day I’ve ridden anywhere.
My maiden voyage is to Jiffy Mart,
to get myself some Bugles.
 
 
As I park my bike
and fiddle with the lock,
an old Chevy pickup,
black as night and covered in
at least three coats of wax,
pulls into the parking lot.
 
 
I watch as the guy gets out.
He glances at me, probably
thinking I’m twelve because
I’ve got a sky-blue bike
and one of my cousin’s
baseball hats on to cover up
my unwashed hair.
 
 
God, he’s cute.
Short brown hair that curls
at the edges and eyes the
color of rich, dark coffee.
 
 
When I go inside, I see
him head down the aisle
at the far end of the store.
I find the chip aisle and grab
a bag of my beloved Bugles.
 
 
We meet up at the register.
He’s carrying a loaf of bread
in the crook of his arm,
like a football, along with a
bottle of red Gatorade.
 
 
“Go ahead,” he says.
 
 
“Thanks,” I mutter.
 
 
I step ahead, but the woman
at the register doesn’t even
acknowledge me.
 
 
“Hey, Colby,” she says, smiling.
“How’s it going?
Survived the first day, I see.”
 
 
“Yep. Just finished the second practice.”
 
 
I drop a dollar and a bunch
of coins onto the counter
and count out the exact amount.
The cashier can’t stop looking at
bread boy, or Colby, or
whoever he is.
 
 
Guess I’m not the only one
who thinks he’s cute.
 
 
With my Bugles in hand,
I scurry to my bike,
hoping to take off before
he comes back out.
But of course, that’s not
how it goes for me.
 
 
No. I can’t unlock the bike
because I can’t find the key.
I’m swearing inside my head,
wondering why my life always
goes like this.
 
 
Nothing easy.
Nothing as it should be.
Nothing found, just lost all the time.
 

12
Colby

“Is this yours?” the cashier asks me, holding out a small silver key.

“Mine?” I ask. “No. Must be that girl’s. Want me to give it to her?”

She smiles. “Would you mind? Since you’re going out there anyway?”

“No problem.”

When I get outside, the girl is searching the pavement. “You looking for this?” I ask her, holding out the key.

She turns around and lets out a big sigh of relief. Though she has a Giants baseball cap on, I can see she’s good-looking. Big green eyes, high cheekbones, and a real pretty smile. Her cheeks turn pink as she stands there, looking at me.

“Oh God,” she says. “I dropped it in there?”

“Just left it on the counter.” I walk closer and hand it to her.

“Thanks,” she says. “Maybe that’s why my aunt and uncle got me a bike, instead of a car. Losing car keys would be a lot worse.”

When she says “aunt and uncle,” I realize why I’ve never seen this girl before. “Wait a second. Are you Lauren?”

She looks at me funny. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“I was at Whispering Willow earlier today, and your uncle was asking me to watch out for you when school started. You know, to say hi or whatever.”

She groans. “He did? Well, that’s kind of, um, embarrassing.”

What would she think if she knew people were talking about her? Wondering what her story is and how she ended up here? Well, I’m not going to tell her. I’m guessing she’ll find out on her own soon enough, anyway.

“Nah. Don’t worry. He didn’t mean anything by it. Just cares about you, that’s all.” I decide I should change the subject, so we don’t end this chance encounter on a bad note. I point to her bag of Bugles. “Do you think it’s weird I’ve never had those before?”

Her eyes get big. “You’ve never had a Bugle? You are missing out. Forget potato chips, these are the best snack food around.”

“Yeah? So, are you waiting until you get home to tear that bag open?”

“I guess I could let you have one, but I’m not sure I should be handing out my Bugles to strange guys in parking lots.”

“Oh man, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Sorry. I’m Colby. Senior, like you.” I hold my hand out. She frees up her right hand by putting everything in the left and shakes mine.

“Good to meet you, Colby.” She moves over to the curb near my truck and sits down. “Might as well open them now and show you what you’ve been missing. Nice truck, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I take a seat next to her. “Nice bike, by the way.”

She looks at me like I’ve just insulted her. “Maybe if I was ten.”

“No,” I tell her, setting the bag of bread down next to me. “I’m serious. I like it. The thing is, when you ride a bike, it’s like a two-for-one. You get some exercise andyou get yourself somewhere.”

She rips the bag open and starts putting the funnel-shaped munchies on her fingers. She turns and paws at the air. “Food and wicked claws. How’s that for a two-for-one?”

“Okay, now I really want to try one of these.”

She hands me the bag, and I take one and pop it in my mouth.

“Delicious, right?” she says before she sticks a claw in her mouth and eats it.

I look her in the eyes. “Thanks to you, I think my life is complete now.”

“Yep. I know. Hey, you want to trade my bike for your truck? Two-for-one, just like you said.”

I grimace as I get to my feet. My legs are killing me. “That’s a really nice offer, but I think I get enough exercise.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“At the convenience store, buying Bugles?”

“Yep. Pretty much. Stupid small town.”

“Think of it this way,” I say as I walk toward my truck. “If it weren’t small, I probably wouldn’t have met you today.”

She laughs. “And your life would have continued to be incomplete?”

“Exactly.”

13
Lauren

 
There’s that moment
when you
get a gift
from a friend
with the cutest
wrapping paper
you’ve ever seen,
covered in
colorful cupcakes,
and you’re wishing
that what’s inside
makes you smile
as much as that
adorable paper with
the matching bow.
 
 
You open it
slowly,
savoring it,
your hopes
floating higher
and higher,
like a birthday
balloon.
 
 
And then
you see
it’s
good.
 
 
Not just good,
but the best thing ever,
and it’s exciting
and you’re happy
and you’re wondering
when you can sneak away
and spend some time with the
amazing gift.
 
 
Yeah.
Meeting him
and talking to him
was pretty much
like that.
 

14
Colby

I drive home thinking about Lauren.

The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.

The sound of her laugh.

The easy way we talked, without one mention of football.

There’s a creek party coming up this Saturday, and I realize I should have told Lauren about it. Invited her to come along. It’d be a chance for her to meet people, maybe make a friend or two before school starts. I almost turn around to see if I can find her and her blue bicycle, which probably wouldn’t be too hard, but I want to get the bread home to Gram, like I promised.

When I pull up to our house, Benny’s motorcycle is parked in the street, and he’s sitting on my front porch. Waiting for me, apparently.

“Didn’t I spend enough time with you today?” I ask him.

“I need your help.”

Benny is a big guy, with muscles like boulders. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he’d need help with anything.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s my mom’s birthday.” He reaches behind him and grabs a grocery bag he was hiding. “Can you help me whip up a cake?”

It makes me laugh. “Whip up a cake? What, do I look like Rachael Ray? Also, why in the hell didn’t you just buy one? Isn’t it a little late to be doing this now?”

He stands up. “Nah. We got time. We aren’t eating dinner until eight. And she doesn’t like store-bought cakes. Hates ’em, as a matter of fact. It’s the frosting, I think. So I thought I’d make her an angel food cake. I even bought some strawberries to go with it.”

“All right. Come on. Let’s see if Gram is willing to share her kitchen with two sorry-ass chefs like us.”

Gram and Grandpa are sitting in the family room, working on a crossword puzzle they set up on a card table.

“Gram, I got your bread. And Benny’s wondering if he can borrow our kitchen to make his mom an angel food cake.”

“Fine with me,” she says. “I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker, but the oven is free. Do you want me to help you?”

“Nah,” Benny says. “I don’t want to put you out. We’ll be okay. I even bought the right kind of pan, since I wasn’t sure if you had one or not.”

“That’s real sweet of you, Benny,” Gram says. “I’m sure your mother is going to love it.”

“If we don’t burn the thing,” I mumble.

“Knock it off, Pynes. We are going to make the best-looking cake you’ve ever seen.”

“Judith, you should find these boys some aprons,” Grandpa says. “Pretty ones with lots of ruffles. And be sure to get a picture – I bet the Valley Timeswould love to see what some of the Eagle football players do in their spare time.”

“Don’t tease them, Hank,” Gram says. “It’s not nice.”

“Yeah, just tease Benny, Grandpa.”

Benny drops the grocery bag and attempts to put me in a headlock, but I wriggle away before he gets the chance.

We’re both laughing as I grab the bag and head for the kitchen. “Come on, big guy,” I say. “Let’s do this thing.”

The kitchen smells amazing, with the roast cooking away, and my stomach rumbles. I set the bread I bought at Jiffy Mart along with Benny’s grocery bag on the counter before I take out the cake mix and pan. I read the instructions and say, “Well, what do you know. It looks to me like you picked the easiest cake ever. We just have to add water to the mix and that’s it.” I look at him. “Why’d you come here? You could have done this by yourself.”

He shrugs. “This way, if we somehow screw up the easiest cake ever, I can blame you.”

I pull a bowl out of the cupboard. “You’re such a good friend, Ben.”

“I know it.”

“You do realize I’m gonna have to follow you home when it’s done, right? Unless you bought a special cake carrier for your motorcycle while you were at the store too.”

He slaps himself upside the head. “Dang. I didn’t think about that. You’re right. But I’m guessing you don’t have anything better to do tonight. Hey, you can even come in and have some cake with us. Ma would like that.”

I have to say, I do love strawberry shortcake.

“Twist my arm.”

15
Lauren

 
I tell my uncle
I met Colby
at the store.
 
 
“Nice kid,” he says.
“Great football player.”
 
 
I’m glad about
the nice part,
but who cares
about football?
 
 
My cousins are playing
the most annoying
game in the history
of the world
with hippos and marbles,
so I take refuge
in the backyard.
 
 
As the sun begins
to set in the distance,
I listen for the
friendly owl,
but all is quiet.
 
 
Loneliness creeps in
and settles down
next to me.
 
 
I think of my friends,
Andi and Martina.
Do they miss me?
Do they wonder where I am?
Do they know I’m sick
about not saying good-bye?
 
 
I could call them,
but the thing is,
I know it’ll make me
miss them even more.
 
 
It wouldn’t do any good.
I’m here and they’re not.
 
 
The ache in my chest
grows and grows
until I’m about ready
to go inside.
 
 
Right now,
annoying noise
might be better than
lonely silence.
 
 
But then, he’s there.
 
 
whooo-hoooo
 
 
The haunting sound
of the owl’s call
fills the empty space.
 
 
I close my eyes
and thank the owl
for talking to me
tonight.
 
 
My new friend learns
I’m a good listener.
 

16
Colby

On the way to Benny’s house, the warm wind blows through the open windows of my truck as the sun hangs low in the sky. Benny’s in front of me, on his old Suzuki. He loves that bike almost as much as he loves football.

We drive through town, past the Hasty Freeze with a parking lot full of people. Past Purcell’s New and Used Cars, where most kids get their first cars. And we drive past the Towne Pump, the gas station where we all meet up on Saturday nights, trying to figure out where we can find some fun.

As much as I think about leaving and moving on to bigger and better things, there are moments, like right now, where this small town makes me smile. It is home, after all.

When we reach his house, Benny pulls his bike into the driveway behind his mom’s car. I park on the street, and then I grab the cake and strawberries.

I hand the cake off to him before we go inside. “Nice job, Rachael Ray,” he says before he opens the door and yells, “Happy birthday to the best mother in the whole wide world!”

She peeks her head around the corner. When she sees him carrying a cake, she claps her hands over her mouth and comes all the way out from the kitchen.

“Benny. And Colby. What did you boys do?”

He walks over and hands it to her. “It’s angel food. We made it ourselves. I got strawberries too.”

“Oh my word, it looks wonderful.” She looks at me. “You boys really made it?”

“Sure did,” I say. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Lewis.”

She sets the cake down on the coffee table, pulls Benny into a hug, and kisses him on the cheek. Then she does the same to me.

“Can you stay for dinner, Colby?” she asks. “The lasagna is just about ready. As soon as Ben’s dad and brother get here, we’ll eat.”

“Ma, you shouldn’t have cooked,” Benny says. “We could have taken you out.”

“I don’t mind,” she says. “As long as we’re together, that’s the important thing. So, Colby, you staying?”

“Yeah, my grandparents aren’t expecting me home for a while. They know it’s your birthday and that Benny and I wanted to help you celebrate.”

“I just can’t get over it,” she says. “You boys doing this for me.”

Just then, Mr. Lewis walks in the door. He’s carrying a bunch of red roses wrapped in floral paper.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he hands her the flowers and gives her a kiss.

Benny motions to me to follow him into the kitchen, so I do.

“They like kissing each other,” he tells me. “But that don’t mean I have to watch.”

It makes me laugh. “Well, it’s good they love each other that much after all this time, right?”

“Right,” he says as he flips through the pile of mail sitting on the counter. He flashes a couple of college brochures at me. “Since I took the SATs, they keep on coming.”

“Hey, that’s a good sign. Your scores must have been pretty decent.”

“Yeah, I guess. Not sure it’s gonna happen unless I get a scholarship, though. And I’m not talking one based on my academic achievements, if you know what I mean.”

“Something will come through,” I tell him. “Try not to stress about it.”

I say it because this is what I want to happen for him. Maybe if we say it enough times, it really will.

“What about you?” he asks. “You made a decision?”

I sit at the kitchen table and Benny joins me. I take a deep breath. “I know it’s hard for people to understand, but I swear, I’ve thought about it a lot . . . and I’m pretty sure my mind’s made up. I don’t want to play college ball. I don’t want the added pressure in college. The expectations. The baggage that comes with it, you know? I don’t want professors to see me as the stupid jock. Or anyone, for that matter.”

He squints his eyes like he’s confused by my response. “But you’re good, Pynes. I mean, do you know how good you are? It’s like taking that beautiful and delicious cake we made, that we worked so hard on, and throwing it away. It’s such a waste.”

“As long as I go to college, isn’t that the important thing? I mean, I played ball these past four years because it was fun, with you and the other guys. And around here, you know how it is.”

“As my dad likes to say, it keeps us out of trouble,” Benny says.

“Exactly. I’m glad I played. We all make a good team.”

“Not just good, Pynes. A hell of a team.”

“Yeah. But next year, it’s a whole new ball game. The reasons I’ve loved it so much these past four years won’t be there anymore.”

“So how you gonna go without a football scholarship? Aren’t you worried about that?”

I fiddle with a burgundy place mat in front of me. “I don’t know. But I figure people do it all the time, right? I can get a job. Take out loans. My grades are really good; there might be other kinds of scholarships I can get.” I look at him. He’s trying to understand, but I also know he would give just about anything to trade places with me right now. And if I could, I would.

“And you know, it’s important for you to remember that too,” I tell him. “If you don’t get a football scholarship, there are other ways. We can help each other figure it out, okay?”

“But I want to play,” he says. “You probably don’t even know how much I want to play.”

He’s right. I don’t. Just like he doesn’t know how much I’m ready to move on from living and breathing football.

His mom comes in. “Russ is pulling up. Can you boys get the table set, please? I just need to finish up the salad, then we’ll be ready.”

Both Benny and I stand up. I look at him. “For now, let’s forget all that. Focus on the task at hand. To take state.”

He reaches for a fist bump. “You can count on that.” His eyes light up when he asks me, “Hey, after we eat dinner and have cake, wanna watch The Avengersagain?”

I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve watched it.

“Is the Hulk green?” I ask.

“That would be a yes,” he says.

And then Benny laughs. He laughs and laughs, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And then I’m laughing, and his mom is too. Happy birthday, for sure.

17
Lauren

 
Four nights a week, Erica works
graveyard as a nurse at the hospital.
 
 
That way, the kids always have
a parent at home with them.
 
 
Sometimes Erica is asleep in the evening
when it’s time for the bedtime routine.
 
 
But tonight both their mom and dad
are here for books and bedtime kisses.
 
 
“Want to join us?” Erica asks
as she gathers the kids to go upstairs.
 
 
I politely decline, because tonight
my heart is missing home pretty bad.
 
 
Maybe I didn’t have a mom who
read books to me or tucked me in.
 
 
And maybe I wished for a mom who
liked to cook and gave long hugs.
 
 
But I never wanted this – to be
living somewhere else without her.
 
 
I miss our spa nights on Sundays,
with bottles of polish, a kaleidoscope of colors.
 
 
I miss the way she hummed, all the time,
but especially when she was nervous.
 
 
I miss passing the pint of ice cream
back and forth, like a special secret, between us.
 
 
I feel like I should try to let her go,
but if I do that, where does it leave me?
 
 
It’s not like this nice happy
family is mine to keep forever.
 
 
“Good night, Lauren,” Demi says as her
little arms, full of love, reach up for a hug.
 
 
Leave it to a four-year-old to show
 

me what I really want, most of all.

18
Colby

Tuesday afternoon, I stop in at Whispering Willow Bookshop again, between work and the second practice.

“Hey, Colby,” Mr. McMann says. “I heard you met Lauren. Kind of funny you ran into her after we talked yesterday.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Some of us are getting together on Saturday. We’re going up to the creek to swim, and I thought I’d see if she wants to come along. Does she have a cell phone?”

He shakes his head. “No, unfortunately she doesn’t. She’ll have to get a job if she wants one. We just can’t afford one for her. You could call her at the house, though. Do you want the number?”

“Sure.”

He grabs a pad of paper, and when he’s finished writing, he tears off the piece of paper and hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You bet. Hey, did you give your grandpa the book yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Last night. He liked it a lot. Thanks again.”

He smiles. “My pleasure.”

“See ya later.”

As I walk to my truck, I think about how I probably shouldn’t have lied. Maybe Mr. McMann wouldn’t have thought anything of my weird fascination with bridges. It’s not like I had to tell him how far my fascination goes. Just because I bought a book doesn’t mean he has to know about my list of the top twenty bridges I want to visit in my lifetime.

Last night, after looking at the book for a while in bed, I redid the list. I do that sometimes. Narrowing it down to twenty is about as hard as scoring a touchdown on a kickoff.

The top five stayed the same, though:

 
1. Sydney Harbour Bridge, Sydney, Australia – the world’s largest steel arch bridge
2. Brooklyn Bridge, New York, NY – designated a National Historic Landmark in 1964.
3. Tower Bridge, London, England – it looks old and modern at the same time
4. Chapel Bridge, Lucerne, Switzerland – the oldest wooden covered bridge in Europe
5. Millau Viaduct, southern France – the tal est vehicular bridge in the world
 

A couple of weeks ago, Gram was asking Grandpa if he’d take her out for a picnic at a spot near an old bridge she’d heard about.

“I just love old covered bridges,” she’d said. “There’s something special about them, don’t you think, Colby?”

It was kind of weird she’d asked me. I hadn’t ever said anything to them about my strange fascination. But I agreed with her. And then she said something I’ll never forget: “I’ve always thought a bridge is like a good friend, holding its hand out to help you along on the more difficult parts of your journey.”

In one sentence, she described it so well.

I’m not sure where I’ll be going when I leave here. But wherever I go, one thing’s for sure: There’ll be bridges along the way. Since I don’t plan on playing football next year, they may be the only friends I have for a while.