I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (15 page)

“That explains why I never met you when I was a kid,” he says, like this is something he’s been thinking about, considering. “We moved out to Vegas when I was eight. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

Chase picks up one of his fries. “That’s what I thought. You’re a year younger.” He takes a bite. “You would’ve still been in Columbus when we left Ohio.”

“Where in town did you live right before you moved out west?” I ask. “Out near your grandmother’s house?”

There are only two fries left and Chase indicates I should eat them. I swirl one through the ketchup. Chase watches my movement for a few seconds, then answers. “No, we lived south of Market.”

“No way!” I exclaim, pointing my fry at him before biting into it. “That’s where we lived too,” I add.

The roads we once lived on—we soon discover—were only a block apart. How differently my life may have turned out if Chase had never left Harmony Creek back when he was a boy. Perhaps my first boyfriend would have been him instead of Doug Wilson. How great would that have been? The whole course of history could have been altered, and maybe Sarah would still be alive today. Yeah, maybe… If only and what if, they don’t count for much in retrospect.

Chase notices that I’ve gotten quiet, and I must look as distraught as I feel, because he asks in a very worried tone, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

I quickly compose myself. If there’s one thing I’m a pro at, it’s pulling my shit together and deflecting other people’s concerns.

With an ease I don’t feel inside, I try to make a joke. “No, it’s nothing. Just, I mean, south of Market…to where I live now.” I gesture to the window, in the direction of the west side of town. “Pretty pathetic, huh? It’s quite a drastic change, even I have to admit.”

The waitress comes to the table—at long last—and finally refills our waters. Chase continues to ignore her. She huffs, loudly, as she leaves. I take a drink. Chase’s blues never leave me. “What?” I say, setting down my glass.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Kay, it’s none of my business, I know. But I thought about it a lot last night, and I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea of you living down there. I don’t want to make you angry, but I have to say—one more time—I think you should seriously consider moving.”

He’s right, but I try to play it down. “I’ll be fine, Chase. I’ve lived there for a year now, and I’ve never had a single problem.”

I don’t share that I fear the junkies and their leering stares; I don’t tell him the area has gotten so downtrodden that the only grocery store closed its doors. No, I say none of those things. Even so, I’m sure Chase is well aware.

He taps his long fingers on the table. “Still, I don’t like it.” He sighs. “Are you sure there’s no way I can talk you into renting the place above my garage?”

“Chase…” I begin, “I would, it’s a great place and I’d love to live there. But, I…just…can’t.”

He shrugs one shoulder, like he’s done trying. For now. He probably thinks I’m worried about how it will look if I move onto his property, but it has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want Chase taking less money for my sake, it’s just not right. And I would never ask him to wait until the fall to rent his place. He probably needs the money now. I just have to forget about his amazing apartment and stick with my original plan. I’ll save money this summer and find a new apartment in the fall. If his place happens to be—by some miracle—still available, well, then maybe.

We drop the apartment conversation and talk returns to family. Chase asks me some questions, and I tell him some things about my early life.

He asks what it was like growing up in Columbus. “Not much different than living here in Harmony Creek, just a little bigger,” I reply.

I don’t say much about my parents. And I definitely don’t touch on the shell of a relationship we currently have—nonexistent with my mother, not much better with my dad. I also only say a few words about Sarah. Like, I mention that I once had a little sister, but she passed away.

I don’t need to say more. When her name passes my lips I see right away—from his expression of sadness and pity—that Chase already knows the story, at least the story everyone assumes to be true. I can’t say I’m surprised. Gossip is like a pastime here in Harmony Creek. That’s how I know so many things about Chase, things he’d never dream I knew. Or maybe he would. He knows this town as well as me.

Chase must sense that I’m uncomfortable, he smoothly steers the conversation back to his own early years. He becomes more open, to a point. It sounds like he once had a great life in Nevada, until his father died. He doesn’t say much about his dad dying—just that he did—but it becomes clear that was the point where many of Chase’s troubles began.

A few of those he shares.

But he paints in broad strokes, giving just an overall picture, leaving out details, like how he really felt about everything that was happening.

Chase mentions that he, his mom, and his brother lived on the road for a while, after his dad died and their house was repossessed. At some point his mom won some money and the three of them finally moved into an apartment.

That’s it, that’s what he says. All nonchalant, like it was no big deal he lived in a minivan with two other people for a while. Or that it was acceptable his mother spent much of her time in casinos, leaving Will in Chase’s care, and giving her eldest far too many opportunities to get into trouble. Some of which I know all about, like his drug use.

That’s what he talks about now, albeit briefly.

Chase touches on the fact that he once used, and though it’s only a mention, I appreciate his honesty on the subject. Despite his downplayed version of events, it’s very apparent drugs once played a huge role in his life. I also sense Chase is uncomfortable talking about drugs and the role they once played. After his first few remarks, he quickly changes the subject. So quickly in fact that it tells me a part of this man still battles to stay clean.

We’re both quiet for a few minutes, and I assume Chase is done talking, but then he mentions his brother. His whole face lights up when he talks of this Will-kid. But when he mentions how he had to leave Vegas, leave Will, back when he was eighteen, Chase’s expression saddens.

He tells me when he returned to Harmony Creek the hardest part was leaving his brother back in Vegas with their mom. Chase didn’t want to come back, his mother made him. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell Chase still misses his brother very much, even after all these years.

I ask Chase to tell me more, hoping for a happy story. In a weird way hearing about his little brother makes me feel better about Sarah. Even though I will never again be someone’s older sister, Chase sharing his older-sibling perspective comforts me. And the obvious depth of his love for his brother reminds me of how very much I once loved Sarah. I still do, but that love is static, unchanging. Chase’s relationship with his brother is the opposite, it’s ever-changing. Mine with Sarah will forever stay stuck in place. Their relationship is dynamic, full of
life
.

My heart needs life. I’ve been immersed in death for far too long, and I yearn to soak up any stories Chase has that celebrates living. So that’s exactly what I do when he shares this happy tale…

“Will,” Chase laughs, reminiscing. “That kid was so uncoordinated when he was younger. Shit. And funny as hell.” He pauses, smiles this really genuine smile that makes me grin right along with him. I don’t care if I’m living vicariously; at least I’m
living
again.

Chase continues, “But Will was always too stubborn for his own damn good. Still is, in fact.”

A flash of pain crosses Chase’s face when he utters that last sentence. It tells me there’s a rift between him and his brother. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it probably has a lot to do with Chase going to prison. I don’t pry though. I just let Chase talk. And soon he’s wrapped up in telling me about a time he and his little brother were catching lizards in the backyard of their house in Vegas, the one that got repossessed.

“God, Kay, it was so funny.” Chase chuckles. “Will was probably around five, I don’t know, maybe he was six. Anyway, there were always these lizards in our backyard, tons of them, little guys, all brown and skinny. Kind of cute, though, you’d like them. They run like crazy when you get too close. But they’re harmless. They don’t bite or anything and you can catch them if you’re fast enough.”

“I bet you were fast,” I muse, biting my lip. Just looking at Chase—all lean and streamlined—you just know he’d be quick.

Chase smiles at me, like he knows what I’m thinking. He probably does, he seems intuitive like that.

“I guess I was fast.” He shrugs. “But my brother sure wasn’t.”

Chase sits back in the booth and presses his lips together, like he’s suppressing another laugh. “That poor kid couldn’t catch a single lizard that day. I’d already caught, like, a couple dozen in less than an hour, and I was hardly trying. Will, though…” Chase shakes his head. “He couldn’t catch a single one.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Was it because he was so much younger?”

“Nah,” Chase says, “that wasn’t it. His friends always caught plenty when they were over. Will was just too impatient, and he couldn’t judge distance for shit. Every time he spotted one—like, after bunches ran past without his even noticing—he’d jump at the poor sucker like some kind of a maniac. Then, in all that haste, he’d trip right over his own two feet and fall on his ass.”

I try to imagine this cute little kid running around a backyard in Vegas, stumbling around, while trying so hard to keep up with his much more coordinated older brother.

“So, what happened? I bet you felt bad and caught one for him.”

“No, no way.” Chase pauses. “I mean, yeah, I felt bad, but Will would never have gone for me catching one for him. He had to do it himself. Otherwise, it was like it didn’t count. He was like that with everything.” Chase takes a breath and the smile in his blues warms me. “So, I sat there and waited, slowly let go of all my lizards as the day came to an end. I thought maybe Will would catch one of those. But no, that kid didn’t even notice them running off. He just chased other random lizards around the yard until it finally got dark.”

“Did he ever catch one?” I ask. I’m invested in this story now and hoping for a happy conclusion.

“He did,” Chase confirms, flicking the base of his water glass with his finger.

“Yay,” I cheer, making Chase look up at me from under these long, long lashes. He smiles, I smile wider. “See,” I continue, “Will’s persistence paid off. I bet he was ecstatic.”

“Beyond.” Chase nods. “In fact, he was so damn pumped he almost squeezed the poor thing to death.”

My eyes widen, imagining one squished and lifeless lizard. “Oh, no,” I gasp.

“Don’t worry,” Chase says in a hurried voice, probably due to my horrified expression. “I saved the little fellow from Will’s death grip.” He chuckles again. “Kay, you should have seen that lizard run. I mean, they’re all fast, but this one was so relieved to have made it that he looked like he was nothing but air. Like something out of a cartoon or some shit.”

I sigh. It’s official. I love the way Chase tells stories, especially this one, reliving a once happy time with his brother. I settle in the booth, all set to hear more. But when Chase glances up at the big clock on the wall, I know it’s time for us to get back to work.

“Tomorrow?” he asks as we rise to leave.

“Yes,” I say enthusiastically, “absolutely.”

And just like that the diner becomes part of our daily routine. I quit bringing brown bag lunches. Sometimes one of us texts prior, but mostly our lunch dates are a given.

Wednesday, I go over to the school to meet Chase. Thursday and Friday, he comes to get me. We sit at the same booth every day, share more and more stories. We are slowly becoming friends, real friends.

I learn more about Chase, and he learns more about me—little things, big things, lots and lots of stuff. Like, I discover Chase was born in April, he learns my birthday falls in February. His middle name is Michael; I tell him mine is Marie. I love pickles, but Chase hates them with a passion. He gives them to me, with a grimace, whenever they’re on his plate at lunch.

I also discover Chase loves lemon-lime soda, like to a bizarre extent. He even brings a small cooler of the stuff to work. Not the name-brand variety, mind you, just the store brand in the no-frills green metal can, big yellow letters spelling out
lemon-lime
on the side.

One afternoon in the hallway of the school, I tease him as he finishes off a can. “All that sugar, Chase.” I shake my head in mock disapproval. “You better watch. You could end up fat. It creeps up on you slowly, I hear. You might not even realize it until it’s too late.”

We both know this is so far from reality that it’s laughable, but that’s kind of the point.

Chase pitches the can into a recycle bin and plays along.

“You think?” he asks as he lifts up the hem of his T-shirt and displays probably the finest washboard abs I’ve ever seen.

It’s not easy, but I resist the urge to reach out and touch the cut abs
and
the trail of fine hair leading down into his low-slung jeans. I swallow, hard.

Chase smirks as I mumble, “Nope, I was wrong. You’re good for now.”

And is he ever. Damn, like I needed a reminder of how hot Chase is. When we get to the diner that day I ask for extra ice in my water.

I think about the other things I’ve learned about the hottest guy in town, a guy who I can now call my friend. One of my many discoveries is that Chase has quite the appetite, he orders huge lunches. I noted this the first day we ate together, but it continues throughout the week. And like our first lunch, I still order salads…or a small sandwich.

It’s not like I’m trying to eat like a bird, not anymore, and it’s not that I’m too nervous to eat around Chase, like day one. It’s just that the smaller stuff is all I can afford.

Needless to say, I’m secretly pleased when I find out Chase likes to share.

Besides the pickles from his plate, he orders extra fries every day and gives me half. He knows I won’t let him pay—apart from that first day—so I suspect it’s his way of surreptitiously buying me food.