10
Rob
We drovethrough a Dunkin Donuts drive-through on our way to Boston that afternoon. I had to admire whatever makes Rhode Islanders so intense about their scenery. Even the Dunkin Donuts had weathered panels and a muted wood-and-brass sign advertising its coffee. Despite the way the storefront blended into the landscape, we still had to wait in a long line of cars to get our icedcoffees.
"I'll put your milkshake in the cup holder for you," I said, taking both iced coffees from Naomi's hands. Our fingers overlapped, and I felt that surge of energy I did whenever she touched me. God, that kiss. Funny how just kissing Naomi was more satisfying than fucking someone else. “Now I know how you take your coffee: pale with milk, double up thesugar.”
As she pulled back out onto the highway, she said, "You never told me about why you joinedtheNavy."
"Oh, you know. SawTop Gun. The whole stereotypicalthing."
She glanced over at me skeptically. I knew that wasn't going to fly, especially when we were going toseeJoe.
"I wanted to do something different with my life," I said. "Not follow my father into investment banking and politics. Or dick around trying to find myself in college, either, living off his money. Just... do. I wanted to do something. I figured the Navy would tell me who they wanted metobe."
"I know, but usually careers are in the genes," she said. "Look at me. I mean, it's hard to do something for a living that you'veneverseen..."
She wanted the big story. She wanted to know what made me tick. Like anything is ever that simple. If people were simple, she wouldn’t all but tell me to fuck off one day and kiss me on Main Streetthenext.
"Do you remember that meet we had against Wickford?" Iasked.
She shookherhead.
“I guess nothing stood out about that meet for you," I said. The way she acted with me, so hot and cold, meant she must remember that day on the bus, even if she didn’t remember the meet. "I PR'd on breaststroke. Bright spot of themonth."
Not that it had been much of a bright spot. That had been the month Mitch flipped the Audi. Somehow, Mitch had pulled himself out of the wreckage. He'd left the girlfriend-of-the-week behind as he crawled back up the embankment. And the car hadcaughtfire.
Thinking of it still made me nauseous, my stomach roiling with regret and guilt. I knew it wasn’t my fault. But he was mydad.If he was a selfish fool and a coward, how likely was it that I was the same kindofman?
At first, he kept me and my brothers home from school, while he met with his lawyers. He had tried to protect us from the news. I remember the shouting match I got into with him.Your fuckups aren’t my problem,Itoldhim.
I’ve only seen my father tear up twice in my life. Once when he came into my room when I was a kid, sat on my Star Wars quilt, and told me that my mother was gone. I’d been asking where she was, frantic when Mitch or Rebecca just changed the subject. But that night, his breath had smelled like Scotch and he had told me that he had missed her and his face had twisted. That night, I’d hugged him, patting his back, telling him it was going tobeokay.
By the end of our fight, he had the same sheen in his eyes. But the second time, I’d felt grimly satisfied to see thosetears.
I had tried to hold my father when he cried when I was just a little boy. But no one had been there for me when I used to hide among the shoes in my mother’s closet and squeeze my eyes shut, the hems of her dresses tickling my face, and pretended that she was going to come find me. Just another game of Hide-and-Seek, one that had lasted mywholelife.
In the end, because Dad could only fight battles on so many fronts at once, he'd let me return to school. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I had been surprised to have my friends sock my shoulder and sayhilike usual. Like nothing hadhappened.
"So?" Naomi prompted me. Those big golden-brown eyes were full of concern. "What made you bring up the meet againstWickford?"
"I was just thinking about when we swam together," I said. "That's all. I happen to remember the dayIPR'd."
"Yeah," she said. "That was senior year,right?"
"Youremember?"
"I remember that you stopped talking to me." There was a teasing note in her voice, but her eyesweresad.
"It was probably because I was scared of you." I took a sip of my iced coffee. My romance with Naomi had always felt strange and precarious, even though I’d known Naomi all my life. Sometimes we had sat at the kitchen island to do homework together while her mother cleaned our house. We had been friends with milk mustaches, drawing ears on each other’s kindergarten self-portraits. Then one day I turned around and we were teenagers and I couldn’t stop looking at the pouty shape of her mouth or the spark in thosebrowneyes.
After our meet against Wickford, Naomi had smiled at me as she tossed her backpack onto the floor and slid in next to me. I’d felt comforted by the warmth of her shoulder pressed against mine like any other day. My father was a fool, not the hero he had been in my eyes, but the rest of my world hadn’t changed. I still had my friends. I still hadNaomi.
When she fell asleep, like always, I’d turned my face into her dark, chlorine-scented hair. I should get off the bus with her; I should tell her how I felt. Life was too short not to kissNaomi.
My own eyes drifted shut. I was exhausted, my eyes bitter and aching from the sleepless nights since my dad’scrash.
And in my dreams, something hit the bus. I saw myself clawing my way up towards the road, pulling up handfuls of new grass in my desperation to get away from thecracklingheat.
