Life Interrupted (28 page)

              “Yeah, you’re here, Flow.  You’re okay.”

             
I hear Lauren’s voice and realize I’ve spoken aloud.  I look over at her and she holds my eyes, like she knows I can’t look at what’s around me. 

             
“He’s coming.  They had to get him off of Marcus and hold him back while they bring Marcus to his feet, but once they get him out of here, Tripp will be inside.  He’ll be here,” she says and I feel my eyes prick.  Seeing this, she continues quickly, the words tumbling out one after the other.  “He kicked the door in.  I saw Marcus go inside,” she explains, talking, still talking, keeping me calm with her words, her steady gaze.  “I almost left you there, almost told myself you were fine, but I knew better.  So I started banging on the door, and then Tripp showed up and he kicked it in right as you were grabbing to come out.”  The people restraining Marcus bring him to his feet and Lauren’s fingers tense on mine, her eyes never wavering, never faltering.  “You got yourself away, Flow, you saved yourself.”  Her voice is hard, a reminder of my strength and I slide my gaze from hers to Marcus as he’s hauled out.  His head is hanging, his shoulders slumped.  I can’t see his face, but everything that was strong and dominant only moments ago is now broken, defeated, gone.  Except for me.  I’m here.

             
I find Lauren’s face again, latching onto her gaze that remains steady on mine.  “Thank you,” I whisper and she nods.  Then we both hear it, my name, a rushed expulsion of breath and pounding feet and he’s there, his face replacing Lauren’s, his hands framing my face, his thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones.

             
“Rachel,” he says again, this time without the panic, without the rush.  It’s tender, painful, as if his words will hurt me if he says them too loudly.  When he presses his lips to my forehead, everything that held me together until now disappears and I break, folding into him, grabbing on, my hands fisting at the back of his t-shirt, my face pressing to his chest as he crouches down and cradles me there.  “I’ve got you.  You got away, Rachel.  You’re here and I’ve got you.  I love you so much, I won’t leave you alone.  I’m here, Rachel,” he says and I can hear the tightness in his voice, the struggle. 

             
I nod, trusting him, and I wrap myself around him as he lifts me, sweeping his arm under my legs and bringing me to his chest, talking to me the whole time he turns and leaves the bathroom.  Someone else says his name, and then mine, but I don’t look up and I don’t say anything.  I don’t try to stop the tears as they fall.  Instead, I rest my head on the crook of his shoulder and let him hold me up.             

I’ve been sitting through my graduation for almost an hour and I’ve discovered there’s really nothing about it that’s entertaining other than knowing there’s eventually got to be an end (please, dear god, let there be an end).  My gown is stuck to my legs, my ass is numb, and the idiot next to me is snoring while Kennedy gives her valedictorian speech.  I try to listen, shoving Sir Snory when his head bobs my way.  It’s hot enough in here without someone’s breath making it worse, especially when said mouth breather doesn’t appear to be all that big on brushing his teeth.  Jesus, teenagers are gross. 

A few rows ahead I can make out Tripp’s profile.  We’re seated in alphabetical order, Katie at the front, him in the middle, and me in the back, the rows of graduates shaped like a horseshoe because there are so many of us and the gym is so small.  Tripp’s row is angled so that
it sits facing the side of the stage, while mine faces it head on, making it an easy angle for me to watch him.  As if he senses me, Tripp turns his head just a fraction to the side and our eyes meet.  We stare for a minute, our eyes locked as we do our smoldering I’m-taking-your-clothes-off-in-my-head look, which reminds me of the other night when he did just that. 

We went down to campus and began searching the outskirts for a house with enough room for the four of us and Gracie, and somehow in that time he talked me into the backseat, where he promptly talked me out of what I was wearing.  (Whisperer, I tell you, not that I’m really working on my immunity to his powers; seeing him with no shirt is pretty amazing—lose the rest of his clothes? There are no words.)  After we’d done all the damage we could do and struggled back into our clothing, we wandered the streets hand-in-hand, discarding any options that looked as though they belonged to a fraternity or just a really dirty group of people. 

“Gracie’s not living somewhere that’s permanently damaged by smoke and germs,” I told him and he nodded his agreement.  “And she’s not living next to someone who’s throwing ragers all day and night and bringing shady characters around.” 

“Newer definitely, hopefully one that
has only been inhabited before by clean little engineering nerds who spent more time at the library than home.”

We found five potentials and sent the addresses to Tanner and Katie, who were suspiciously similar in their responses.  On our way home, Tripp pulled over to the side of the road before we got to my house and turned the engine off.  Turning toward me, his beautiful face illuminated by the streetlight coming through the windshield, his eyes were heavy and serious. 

“Are you doing okay, Rachel?”

“Yeah,
why? You trying to tell me it wasn’t as good for you?” I teased but he just shook his head.  “Tripp, what’s going on?”

“It just occurred to me that there’s a lot more going on for you than there is for me, with the trial and the likelihood that Marcus gets off with counseling and probation, which means he’ll be around here.  Then you have summer workouts and tryouts coming up.”  He blew out a breath and took my hands, lacing our fingers together.  “I just want to make sure you’re not regretting staying here when you could have gone somewhere with more of guarantee for volleyball, and somewhere further away from Marcus and his family.  Somewhere new.”

It’s odd being on the other side of insecurity.  Until now, it’s been me worrying that Tripp would need more, that he would wake up one day and realize that he had wasted his younger years balancing a girl and a baby that took more time and energy than any one eighteen-year-old should have to give.  Looking at him in that moment, his eyes heavy with worry, his face showing all of the insecurity he was feeling, I realized that love didn’t just make you happy, it made everything bigger, including the fear of
what if
.  What if she regrets staying? What if he regrets choosing me? What if one or both of us isn’t happy? What if we can’t make it work? The questions that seize up to grab you are endless, because along with all of the good, we wait for the bad, it’s how we’ve been trained.  Not now, though, not anymore.  I have my fantasy, and reality can fuck off because I’m keeping him.

Leaning forward I kissed him, slowly at first, our mouths meeting, tongues clashing, until his fingers were at my hips, pulling me closer, my arms wrapped around his neck.  “Thank you, for thinking of me, for caring,” I said as I pulled away.  “But with or without Marcus and his drama, being here, being with you and our families? That’s what’s best for Gracie.  And for me.”

I saw the relief cross his face right before he rested his brow against mine.  “I love you, Rachel.”

“Ah, you’re such a sissy,” I teased, but I gave him back the words, just as I gave him everything else.  For Tripp, it seems, I’d give anything.  And seeing how terrified he was in that moment, I know he feels the same.

Now, on a day when we’re leaving behind part of our past, I incline my chin at him across the gym, knowing he’s remembering the same thing, that we’re together and today doesn’t mark the end like it does for so many people, but a new chapter, and then he winks and turns back to the stage.  I smile and do the same. 

Kennedy’s still blathering on about the future and what it means.  Since she isn’t showing, and since there were no rumors circulating about her, I gather she’s not pregnant anymore, which means her future is as open as it gets.  I tune her out again and turn the other direction to find Gracie and my mom in the stands.  It’s raining out, so the football field graduation was cancelled and we were all hauled inside to the gymnasium, each person getting a ticket with a designated amount of seats for family.  I got four, so my dad, Stacy and Nick are sitting next to my mom, and for a minute, I watch as they play pass the baby. 

As usual, Gracie’s loving the attention and playing them ruthlessly.  Once one stops bouncing her or lacks in their entertainment value, she reaches for another.  At one and a half, she’s a pro at running the show and getting what she wants.  She’s turning into quite the terror, and I’m as grateful as I am terrified that she’s going to be exactly like me. 

When Stacy sees me looking, she leans down and whispers something to Gracie, who turns her head and begins scanning the crowd immediately.  When she finds me, she waves like a
maniac, using both hands so the people around her turn to stare.  A second later, she shouts “Hi, Mama!” and it’s just loud enough that the sound isn’t completely absorbed by the bodies around her.  Kennedy falters a little in her speech as people laugh, and I see her eyes track to Gracie, who’s still waving even though Stacy—who is mortified—is trying to calm her.  I wave back and then turn away in hopes of getting her to quiet down, my vision locking back on the stage where Kennedy is still standing, speechless as she stares at Gracie. 

When someone behind her says her name, she looks back down to the podium where her speech must be, and then back at the crowd of her peers in front of her.  Taking a deep breath, she speaks again, but this time I know the words are real. 

“We’re leaving here, a place we’ve been for the past four years, and we’re leaving behind the person we’ve been, while trying to find the person we’ll become.  I don’t have a lot of regret about that, but if there’s one thing I hope to remember, that I hope we
all
remember, it’s that no matter who we were when we were here, good or bad, that person must be respected and remembered, as should the decisions they made.  Learn from who you are right now in this moment, and take those lessons with you to teach whoever you become.”  Her eyes meet mine in the sea of people and I nod at her, understanding.  “The future is exciting, but it’s also scary—you’re going to regret, you’re going to hurt, you’re going to want to stop and come home because life isn’t what you want it to be.  Don’t quit—live, and if you don’t know how to do that, find someone who can help show you, even if you don’t like them.”

The crowd is quiet, no doubt trying to figure out where Kennedy tran
sitioned from quoting Dr. Seuss, to baring herself to all six hundred plus of her classmates.  Crickets will begin chirping any second it’s so quiet in here.  Her face is red as she turns from the podium and sits down at her place of honor, but before the Principal can stand and begin doling out diplomas, someone in the front few rows stands and begins cheering and, whether by default or decision, others join until I feel myself surge to my feet and begin clapping.  Kennedy stays seated, her face red, and when I catch a glimpse of her wiping away her tears, I understand that she did it; she made her decision, and she just talked about it for the first time.

While
I wait for my name to be called, I understand that very few of us are leaving here without heartache, regret, and a few scary moments that have left some scars.  But we’re leaving here nonetheless, looking forward and trying to make a plan for our lives, and that fucking counts. 

~

Lauren opens the door the day after our graduation and pauses when she sees me.  I stand there, hands shoved into the pockets of my shorts, working to feel confident instead of awkward.  She doesn’t come out, but she doesn’t invite me in and at once I’m grateful that I don’t have to walk inside of her house to do what I came to do.  She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the door jamb and somehow her unwelcoming pose makes my shoulders loosen. 

“Lauren.”

“Flow.” 

I stepped back from the door after I knocked so we’re about four or five feet apart and for a second, I stare at her wondering if we would have ever had a chance at being friends if we hadn’t loved the same boy.  Her gorgeous waterfall of golden-strawberry hair is pulled off of her face, her lips are slicked and shiny with some gloss, and she’s wearing seriously short pink shorts
with a matching tank top.  She has a silver scarf around her neck and cotton-candy pink UGGS on her feet.

“Are you going somewhere?”  She raises a brow and shakes her head no.  “You’re pretty dressed up.”

“Matching isn’t being dressed up, it’s basic fashion sense.”  Her tone is just shy of bitchy and in that second I’m positive that with or without our affection for Tripp, we would never have been close.  Why this makes me feel better I have zero idea.

“Well, whatever.  I just came by to say thank you, for what you did a couple of weeks ago, how you helped me.  I don’t really know what took me this long to say it, but I wanted you to know I’m grateful.  I might have been able to take care of myself, but I also might not have and things would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t gotten help.”

She shrugs, but her face softens a fraction and I’m reminded of how strong she was standing there with me, holding me up, saying all of the right things to keep me from breaking down before Tripp got to me.  “You’re welcome.”  Then her eyes snap to mine.  “This doesn’t make us BFFs.”

“Well
, that’s a relief.”

She raises her eyebrow, but there’s amusement behind it.  “I still think you’re a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, you’re probably not wrong about that.”  A smile twitches at her lips.  “Don’t worry, Lauren, I’m not looking for a hug and a heart-to-heart.  In fact, I’ll probably deck the next person who asks me how I am.”

             
“I wasn’t going to.”

             
This time it’s me who can’t keep in the smile.  “Glad to hear it.  And in case you’re wondering, I don’t like you any more than I used to, either.  I’m still kind of hoping you join a sorority at Oregon and they shave your head as some initiation ritual.”

             
She grimaces.  “Why that specifically?”

             
“Please, with hair like that? It’s every girl’s dream.  You dated my boyfriend first, I need to see you ugly to assure myself he won’t go running back to you when he realizes I have bed head and no fashion sense.”

             
“Don’t worry, that was obvious before he decided to break up with me.”

“Look at you, comforting me.  Are you sure you don’t want to be BFFs?”

She just shakes her head.  “As long as we’re sharing, I threw a party when I found out you were pregnant.” 

             
I smile and rock back on my heels.  “Ah, it was you.  I always wondered where the term ‘Fat Flow’ was coined.”

“Pure genius, if you ask me.  I was sure that once you were fat and ugly and unable to play volleyball and do everything else
that made you
you
, Tripp would take you down from the pedestal he held you on.”

“Well, I did get fat for a while.”

              “And he still chose you.  Like I said, you can relax about the bed head.”

             
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry about that.”

             
“I don’t want you to.  I’m over it.  I’m going to Oregon, I’ll meet someone there, someone who doesn’t look at another girl like she’s everything I want to be to him, and when I do, we’ll move somewhere that’s not Corvallis and I’ll never see you again.”

             
My eyebrow zings up.  “That’s quite the plan, so I’ll let you get to it.  Thanks again for helping me.”

             
“Let’s hope it’s the last time a crazy man tries to beat you up.”

             
“I can second that.”

             
She turns and closes the door as I walk down the steps, and though it wasn’t the world’s sweetest conversation, I feel like I just shut another door on my past.  The girl I hated because he loved her hated me for the same reason.  That type of quid pro quo puts my unsteady ego back on its feet and by the time I get to my car, I’m smiling.