The Nights Were Young (10 page)

X

Marie looked out her bedroom window over the lake
. The sun was lowering beyond the line of houses, and in her head she replayed what happened earlier that afternoon at the coffee shop.

              There was a knock at the door, and before Marie could answer her mother opened it and stayed in the doorway. “Hey sweetie.”

              “Hey Mom. What --?”

              “We need to talk.” Her mother entered and sat on the edge of the bed.

              “The applications are ready to mail out. I can send them off tomorrow,” Marie said, keeping her eyes to the window.

              “Good, good. That’s not what I want to talk to you about, though.”

              “Okay…”

Marie turned to her, nervously. What did she know?

              Her mother took in a breath and exhaled quickly. “You know that I know Ms. Halliway right?”

              “My English teacher?”

              Her mother nodded.

              “I do now.”

              “Look. She called me today saying that you had been in some trouble at school. Something about a fight?”

              “Mom, that was nothing. It happened a week ago,” Marie groaned.

              “Are you okay?”

              “Yes Mom I’m fine.”

              “Okay, okay. Look, Marie, I know that this move was rough for you, moving during your last year and all, but it’s not good to start making the wrong kind of friends at the end of your high school career. Not when you’re so close to graduating.”

              Marie sighed. “What are you talking about?”

              “Ms. Halliway informed me that you’ve been hanging around a - less than reputable crowd.”

              The way her mother spoke made Marie nauseous.
Reputable? Really?

“Who?” Marie asked.

              Her mother closed her eyes and breathed deep again, holding back some frustration.

“A girl named Kate… and others like her.”

              “What do you mean ‘others like her’?” Marie asked. She scooted away from her mother.

              “Marie I’m not trying to tell you who you should be friends with.”

              “Good, because you have no say in that.”

              Her mother stood up quickly.

“Yes I do, Marie. You’re my daughter and you’re still living under my roof.”

“This is Dad’s roof,” Marie interrupted. Her blood was boiling and her fingers curled.

Her mother’s mouth gaped open. She regained herself after a moment and ignored her daughter. “Ms. Halliway told me some of the information she’s heard about these kids. Some of them have even been arrested. Did you know that?”

“That doesn’t make them
terrible
people, Mom. They’re still people.” Marie looked away from her and folded her arms. She crossed her legs away from her, trying to shut her out; maybe she’d get the hint and leave.

Her mother closed her eyes and bit her tongue. “They are
not
the type of people you want to be surrounding yourself with.”

              Marie rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t even know them, Mom. You don’t even know them. God! You’re talking like a cop.”

              Her mother spoke louder. “I don’t have to know them, and neither should you. You’re coming in way past curfew. You’re getting into fights.”

              “That was one time, Mom.” Marie spoke louder over her. “And I told you the fight was no big deal.”

              “I heard that boy, Travis, got suspended for it. You could’ve been, too. I don’t even want to know if you’ve been doing anything worse with him and his friends around.”

              “It’s none of your business,” Marie said. Her lips pursed tightly together and she glared at her mother for a split moment. Her face and hands were hot with anger.

              Her mother raised her hands into Marie’s face which told Marie to shut up. She lowered her voice, and she spoke as calmly as she could, “I just don’t want to hear any news of something bad happening to you. That’s all.”

              Marie looked away from her and shook her head. “You don’t care if something bad happens to me. You just don’t want to hear that others are thinking less of me.” At this point she was thinking out loud.

              Her mother stared at her. Her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want to hear either.” She stepped forward and extended an open hand. “Give me the applications. I’ll put them in the mail.”

              Marie stood in her way. “I can do it.”

              “Give them to me, Marie. It’s been too long already.”

              They stared at one another. Marie had never been so blatantly defiant before.

              But finally, Marie groaned and handed her mother the applications off her desk.

              “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” her mother said coldly.

Her mother left the room.

              Marie let herself fall onto the bed. That house was suffocating her. Her mother was smothering. She grabbed her jacket off the bed, ready to go for a walk, when a silver chain fell out of the pocket, Travis’s silver chain. Marie held it in her hand and stared at it. It felt light and the metal was warm. Travis had done much to drive her away from him, but after being in that house for too long he was the only person she wanted to see.

              She picked up her phone and sent a message to Kate:

MARIE: Do you know what street Travis lives on?

KATE: He’s out in River Shores. Jillian Street. Why?

MARIE: just wondering

Down in the kitchen her mother was finishing dinner. Her father was at the table on his computer, zoned into business.

              “Hey, Mom. I’m gonna go to Bethany’s house. We’re gonna study for the test tomorrow.”

Bethany was a girl in her chemistry class. Marie had never spoken more than a sentence to her.

              “What test?”

              “Our chemistry test. She says she’s having trouble with some of the memorization, and I was going to let her borrow my flash cards.”

              Her mother smiled. Marie knew it was because she was already hearing news of a new friend, a safer and more upstanding friend. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll save you some dinner.”

              “I’ll be back by nine.”

              “No,” her mother interrupted. “You’ll be back by seven.”

              Marie stood still. There was no fighting. “Okay, seven.”

              “And Marie,” her mother continued, looking down at the food she was preparing. “If I find out you’ve gone to see Travis, or anyone else like him, you won’t be leaving this house again until you graduate. Understand?”

              Marie’s stomach dropped. She did her best to keep her breathing normal, and she had to consciously keep her fists unclenched. “I understand. I won’t – I pr, I promise.” She couldn’t stand there any longer, and so she walked away.

              “Good girl,” her mother said while Marie escaped through the front door.

              **********

It was not hard to find River Shores. She drove her mustang down a country road leading from Crossfalls Business Center. The road led her past farm fields and overgrown woods until she found a battered sign that read the name of Travis’s neighborhood, River Shores. It was harder to find Jillian Street. River Shores was a maze of mobile homes, some kept and some gone to waste. Most of it was an untamed jungle of weeds and random objects: a tire, a chipped statue, or a broken swing set. Jillian Street was deep into the neighborhood, perhaps on the exact opposite side of the entrance.

It was a small street, and it looked the worst of all of them. There were only two single-wide trailers along the rough gravel. One was half burned down. Marie could see the tattered insides of the home, untouched from when the fire had been put out. Whoever lived there must have left when the fire happened, not bothering to come back for anything. At the end of the street was a small trailer. The exterior metal panels were rusted; weeds and grass seemed to hold a wildly tight grip around the place. A beat-up, red truck was in the dirt driveway and a faint light shown through the small and seemingly only window of the trailer.

              Marie pulled her car to a stop in the dirt drive-way and took a deep breath.

              “This is it,” she said nervously. “This has to be it.”

              She got out and forced herself to the door of the trailer – then knocked.

              Immediately a voice yelled from inside, a woman’s voice, harsh and scratched and cold: “Who the hell is that, Travis?” 

              “It’s Benji, Mom!” she heard Travis yell. “I told you he was coming!”

              The door flew open. It was Travis. “Benji I told you to call me before you --” He froze when he saw Marie.

              “Hey,” she said.

              “Don’t let that fucker in here!” the woman called out.

              Travis stepped outside making Marie back up quick. He shut the door behind him, and then stumbled forward. He was only wearing a dirty pair of jeans and his hair was like a rat’s nest. There was a glazed expression over his face when he looked at anything else but Marie. When he looked at her, he would not look for long, for he would quickly look elsewhere in embarrassment, or shame.

“What are you… doing here?” he slurred.

              “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make your mom mad.”

              He rubbed his head and his eyes could not focus on one spot. “She’s always mad. Don’t worry about it.”

              “Are you okay?” Marie asked.

              “I’m fine.” His eyes were pink where there should have been white. “Why are you here?”

              “I wanted to give this back to you.” She showed him the chain.

              He stared at it. He looked away beyond the trailer, beyond the field behind it, and to the setting sun beyond that. He wiped his nose, and it seemed like he was deciding whether or not to take it back. He did, though, and put it back on around his neck. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

              Marie stood still, not wanting to leave.

              “Is that it?” he asked, looking down.

              The trailer door opened, and it was his mother. She was a tall, emaciated looking woman leaning against the doorway with a cup in her hand. Her eyes were glazed like her son’s and she scowled at Marie as if she were eyeing a cockroach.

“Who’s this?” the woman grunted.

              Travis rubbed his head again. “Mom, go back inside.” He closed his eyes, as if he could imagine her away.

              “Who is she Travis? Some new girlfriend?” His mother drank from her cup.

              “Don’t worry about it, Mom.”

              The woman muttered something and stumbled back inside.

              Travis walked shakily back to the door and shut it, then turned around to Marie. “You should probably go.”

              “You don’t seem okay, Travis.”

She stepped closer to him and was about to touch his arm.

              He backed away quick.

“Why did you come here, Marie?” he asked angrily. “Why couldn’t you just give me this at school, huh?”

              “Travis, I didn’t --”

              “You just wanted to see where the piece o’ shit lived right?”

              “Travis, don’t call yourself that!”

              He tripped over a jutting rock and fell to the dirt. Marie rushed forward and knelt to him, getting a descent whiff of the liquor on his breath.

“Jesus! I’m not even wearing a shirt,” he said laughing.

He looked up at her and his stare held, seeing something that made him happier. His face lit up for a moment, like he’d forgotten everything but Marie.

“You should’ve told me you were coming so I could put my suit on,” he said softly.

              She smiled. “Yeah, I guess I should have.”

              His eyes lowered and he looked for a moment at her lips, but he turned his head and moved his arms from her grip. He got to his feet, rejecting her help, and then made his way back to the trailer door.

“Thanks for my chain, pretty girl.”

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, and while she could clearly see his eyes before he looked away, she saw the sadness in them that matched the melancholy in his voice. “Get outta here, Marie.”

              She put her hands on her hips and looked out at the setting sun like he had. There was heaviness in its fading light, like seeing a chance of something good sink beyond reach.