Running Dry (17 page)

                      My eyes start to search for LeRoy as I round the corner.  He's in his usual spot, but as I approach, I can see that his eyes are closed.  I get closer and think about shaking him to make sure he's okay, when I hear his light snoring.  I don't want to wake him, so I decide to leave the water on the ground next to him.  Then, I see another bum across the street stir a little and I have second thoughts, grabbing the bottle back up and quickly tucking it away. 

                     All day, as I pack boxes and attempt to block out the noise and heat, I anticipate my walk home.  Why I'm looking forward to seeing LeRoy, I don't know, but I've been contemplating asking him about the notebook.  It doesn't help my shift go any faster. 

The only other interesting thing that happens during my entire eight hours is that Frankie and I make quick plans during our break to meet up this weekend.  She is going to take me to the Watering Hole, whatever that might be.  Hopefully, I'll be able to figure out a way to appease Jameson with something from there.  Just the thought of seeing that touchy-feely weasel again makes my skin crawl, so I push it out of my mind. 

When the clock strikes five, I bolt out the doors with the rest of the factory and half jog toward LeRoy.  I'm actually giddy when I see that he is in his usual spot and he's awake. 

"Hey, LeRoy," I say, unzipping my pack to give him the bottle of water.

"What did you call me?  Do I know you?" he says.  His voice is far away and has an edge to it. 

I freeze and look him hard in the eye. "I'm, uh, Legs, remember?" He is looking at me, but I don't think he is seeing me.

"Legs?  I don't know anyone named Legs.  What kind of name is that anyway?  I used to know a man named Leggie Lewis.  He didn't have any arms.  That's not you though."

"No.  I gave you some water yesterday.  I just thought…"

He kind of makes a sour face and says, "Water?  I don't need water.  I've got oceans worth of water."  He sounds angry with me.  I wonder if I did something to make him mad.

"Oh.  Okay."  I start to walk away, confused.  When I'm about half a block away, he calls to me,"And stay out of my yard!"

I don't look back, but pick up my pace.  Does he really not remember me?  And to think I was planning to give water to him.  What an idiot I am!

Back home, I admonish myself for trying to make friends with a crazy, old homeless man.  The reality of my situation is that I'm so lonely I'm willing to talk to just about anyone.  My mind wanders to Zane and for the first time since I've been here, I let myself think about how much I miss him. 

Zane

Between the awkward interaction with Harlow and now another potentially weird situation I'm headed to with Frankie, I long for the ease and comfort I always had with Bekka.  I like Frankie, but I'd rather just keep things simple.  Falling for a Southie seems like a bad idea, almost as bad as getting involved with a runner.

When I arrive at the cliff, I don't see Frankie anywhere, so I just sit against the rocks and listen to the sound of water crashing against the cliff below.  It begins to calm me and I close my eyes for a minute. 

                     The next thing I know, my eyes pop open and I can just barely see the shadow of someone sitting next to me.  I turn to look closer.

"Good morning," I hear Frankie say.

                      "Oh, I didn't mean to fall asleep.  Have you been here long?"

"Just a little while.  No big deal."

                     "Sorry," I say, feeling stupid.

                     "It's fine.  I didn't really have a solid reason to meet you, other than wanting to get to know you better," she says.

                     "Did I say anything interesting in my sleep?"

                     "Plenty," she giggles.  Then it's quiet.  I'm not sure what else to say and she must not either.

                     "So..." I say still trying to wake myself fully.

                     "Yeah, this is a bit awkward," she interrupts, "I just..."  I hear what I'm noticing as a familiar sadness in her voice.

                     "What do you do over there?" I ask, trying to break the tension.

                     "I'm a food packer.  It's terribly exciting."

                     "Ah."

                     "My mom is a shift manager, so I got to follow in her footsteps."

                     "And your dad?"

                     "He's dead.  Died in the war"

                     "Sorry.  So, now I know why you are a rebel of the state."

                     "Yep.  Textbook stuff.  I know it's polite to ask you what your story is, but I don't need to..."

                     I guess maybe she's been doing her homework on me, which makes me a little creeped out.   "Okay," is all I can think to say.

"That...came out wrong.  It makes me sound like a lunatic stalker or something.  I'm not."

"It's okay," I say, but it's kind of a lie.

"Can we, I guess, I just wanted to chat, you know?  Let's talk about something else."

"Sure.  What?"  My words are sharp.  I'm tired and feeling a little awkward.

"Oh, God.  This isn't going the way I wanted it to..."  And then she starts crying and it isn't just a little bit.  It's intense.  I'm trying to wrap my head around this girl, debating whether I should run for the tunnel or something, but I feel sorta bad for her at the same time.

              I reach out my arm tentatively and touch her hand.  "Hey, are you okay?  Is it because of your dad?  I'm sorry.  If it makes you feel any better, I lost my dad, too."

              She sniffles and wipes her nose with her sleeve.  She looks up at me, "At least yours is still alive." 

              Now I'm really freaked out but as I pull back, she grabs my hand even harder and pulls me toward her.  "I'm sorry," she says as I feel her practically trying to burrow into my chest.  "This is embarrassing.  I'm not usually like this.  I never cry.  I just miss him so much."

              I don't know how to respond to that because I'm not sure that I really miss my dad.  I mostly hate him, but for the sake of compassion I say, "I understand.  I miss my dad sometimes..."

              She pulls back and looks at me.  "Your dad?  No, I'm talking about Zander!"

              "Zander?  I don't..."

              "Oh.  This is embarrassing.  I thought you knew..."

              "Knew what?"

              "Zander and I..."

              Ah.  It all makes sense now.  How could I have been so stupid.  "You and my brother were together."

              She starts to cry again, then between fits, she says, "I feel so stupid.  I just wanted to feel close to him again, but you aren't him, as much as I want you to be."

              I move closer to her and put my arm around her.  "I didn't realize..."

              "I thought Devin would have mentioned it."

              I shake my head.

              "And Zander didn't tell you about me?"  She sniffles.

              "He wasn't one to tell me personal things.  He usually lectured in a way only big brothers can."  I laugh a little to try to lighten the mood.  "But, it makes sense.  The last few times I saw him, I could tell something was different about him.  He was definitely lighter, happier.  He even tried to crack a few jokes, which was not Zander at all.  But, he didn't tell me very much about what was going on in his life ever.  I'm starting to think I didn't know the real him at all."

              "He talked about you so much, I feel like I know you already."

              "He did?"

              "Yeah.  Like the story of the time when he was showing you how to ride a bike and you flew over the handlebars because you didn't understand the brakes."

              I laugh at the memory.  "That was his fault!  He was supposed to be teaching me."

              "He said you hated taking instruction from him."

              "I did.  He was right about that,” I pause, trying not to start crying myself.

              "I’m sorry.  I just really miss him, you know?" she says.

              "I do know.  I miss him a lot too."

              "It just makes me so angry.  I thought talking to you would help.  I'm sorry if I'm bringing up sad stuff."

              "It's good.  I haven't talk about him for a long time.  I usually only talked about him with my ma and Bekka."

              "Your girlfriend.  Zander told me all about her, too."

              "She was just a friend, but not anymore."

              "No?  He said you two were inseparable.  He often told me he was jealous of what you guys had, before he met me.  I'm sorry.  I just thought we could get together and mourn.  You know, like a date, except not at all like a date."

              I sniff a little,"You know, I thought that's what this was and even though I did feel this weird draw to come, I didn't want to think of you like that.  Maybe subconsciously I knew you were connected to Zander."

              "Or maybe you aren't over the girl yet?"

              "Maybe…"

              "She's a runner, right?  Zander told me she was obsessed with it."

              I didn't really feel like talking about her anymore, so I just said, "Yeah.  That's her."

 
Chapter 24

Bekka

There is a huge solid fence hiding something big on this lot, which sits right in a busy part of the city, amongst shops and apartments.  By the name--The Watering Hole--I was expecting another snack joint, like Chuggers, but the fence, though rickety, is not revealing any secrets.  I speculate further, from the street corner, while I wait for Frankie, who is late.  I sit down on the curb and watch as two teenaged boys head toward the backside of the fence.  There must be a door there. 

I start to wonder if I was suppose to meet Frankie somewhere inside of that strange and mysterious compound.  I contemplate following the boys when I see Frankie barrelling toward me from one of the side streets.

              "Hey!" she says. "Sorry I'm so late."

              "Hi.  No problem."

              "Let's go."

              I get a glimpse of her as she turns and heads toward the fence.  Her eyes look sort of red and puffy and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. 

              "You okay?" I ask.

              "Sure.  I'm fine."

I follow her toward the back and we reach not a door, but a set of concrete steps going down.  Our downward stomping creates booming echoes and mixes with other odd noises bouncing around that I can't identify. 

"What is this place?" I ask.

"You'll see."

We come out of the stairway and are standing on a ledge that looks down on a huge

pool, except it's not empty, it's filled with tons of kids, skateboarding inside of it.  Their boards are making them float and fly everywhere within the big, concrete basin which has been painted blue on the inside.

We're standing on a lofted level above with tons of other kids mulling about, either observing the skaters below or hanging out at a small snack bar situated at the back.  Frankie grabs my arm and leads me to a different set of stairs on the other side of the room that takes us down so we are standing on the same level as the pool, where kids are continuously sailing from the lip of it, twisting and grinding.  She sits down back against the wall and I follow.

"So, this is where all of the kids hang out?"

"Pretty much," Frankie says.

"It reminds me of a friend who skated, although he just did it as a means of

transportation.  Nothing like this," I say, watching a skater directly in front of us as he flips and diving back down the side of the pool.

"Oh, yeah?" Frankie asks. "You are speaking in past tense.  A former boyfriend?"

"No."

"Then how come your face looks like it's about to crack in half and your eyes are far away?"

"Just thinking about stuff.  You ever have regrets?  Like big ones?"

"Sure.  Tons," Frankie says quickly.

"Really?  Like what?"

"Like having to go to The Food Bar everyday."  Then she laughs and nods a hello to

one of the skaters walking past us.

"How long have you worked there?"

"Three very long years," she says.

"And this is what you do for fun?"

"What did you do on the Westside?"

I stumble and think. "Read books."

"So, this at least has cute boys!"

"True.  Very true," I say.  Another guy wanders over and Frankie exchanges small talk