If You Were Wondering - Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

       Amy’s phone rang, the feeling of Aberdeen’s soft hand melting away with the noise of her ringtone. She glanced at her screen, gave me an apologetic look and walked inside, leaving me alone with my still half-eaten bagel. Her coffee sat across from me, getting cold. I found, suddenly, that my mood had darkened.

                When she came back out, a smile lit up her face. “That was the principal in Morris.” she said. “They want me to come in today for the interview.” She looked like she’d just been told she’d won the lottery.               

                “Really, so soon?” I asked.

                “Yeah!” she was giddy now. “I guess they must have liked me when I came in the first time.”

                I gave her a smile. “Well then, that’s great! When do they want you to come down?”

                Amy grabbed her cup of coffee. “The principal said whenever I was free. I told her I’d be down in an hour, so I should probably go back to the apartment and get ready.” She gave me the sorry look again, like she was asking my permission to leave.

                I gave her a hug and said, “Knock ‘em dead, kid. You’ll do great.”

                “Are you gonna be okay out by yourself?”

                I smiled. “Of course. I know where the spare is, and in the mean time I can just walk around. I’ve been meaning to go look around Newah Park again, anyway.”

                Amy’s smile, that huge, infectious, sunny smile, came back, brighter than ever. “Okay, then. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” Then, maybe by reflex, she kissed me on the cheek and left. I turned to watch her go, stunned by the unexpectedness of Amy’s lips on my cheek, and saw her stutter. Her body froze, as if she had made a terrible mistake just by kissing me. But it last only a second, and then she was off towards the apartment, no doubt with a big smile on her face.

 

                I sipped my coffee as I took the shortcut down the steps of the three-story parking complex and out towards the park. The air was comfortably brisk, and I’d unbuttoned the top button of my jacket and let the breeze hit my chest. I felt the wind make my hair bounce whenever I took a step, and I laughed, because Amy had noticed it first. In chorus class, of all places. We sang “Your Move” by Yes, and we would stomp our feet on the risers whenever the teacher told us too. I looked over my shoulder to Amy once when we were in class, and she was laughing at me. Not like mean laughter, but the way she usually laughed; soft and light, like every joke someone told her was an inside joke in between friends.

I asked her why she was laughing, but she just nodded her head, and that made her laugh more. I had started getting paranoid, like I was doing something wrong, so I stopped stomping my foot for the rest of the song.

After class, Amy and I walked down to lunch together. She leaned her head against my shoulder and said, “Your hair was bouncing up and down whenever you stomped your foot. I just thought it looked funny.” And that made me feel better, the way she’d told me and the way her head rested on my shoulder. It made me want to stomp my feet more often.

I crossed the road and ended up at the Italian restaurant next to Amy’s apartment. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils. My mouth watered and I decided that I would have to go out to dinner once before I left.

Before I left.

I realized I still had no idea what I was even doing here. When I bought the plane ticket a month before, I planned to go back for a week. Just enough time to see Mom again, and maybe confront Hugh again, if I had to. But I really didn’t have a plan. How was I going to act when I saw Hugh again? Would I be able to control myself once I saw him again?

I went behind the restaurant and crossed the train tracks, long abandoned by any train. Grass grew tall in between the rails, and the wooden planks were starting to disintegrate. I walked along the tracks and remembered that my senior pictures were taken here. The wind made me shudder.

                Newah Park looked the same. The baseball field was still up, banners still attached to the sides saying, ‘Oneonta Outlaws! Kids get in free!’ The parking lot was vacant and the stadium was empty; the season had ended weeks before.

                Trees were scattered all across the place. Kids were running around the playground, their parents sitting at benches, making sure they didn’t go wandering off. Some people were walking their dogs, others were just walking. A couple sat on a bench under a tree and leaned on each other’s shoulders. I felt the warmth of Amy’s head resting on me when I saw them.

                I found an empty bench, sat down, and looked at all the people. I didn’t see any faces I recognized; maybe they’d all left after college? I remembered my classmates telling each other what their plans were after school: Rhonda Kennedy had planned on studying abroad in Taiwan before going to Temple University for Marketing. Jason O’Donnell wanted to go into the Navy, like his big brother. Connor Branson was going to work for his dad’s bakery, and maybe someday, run it himself. Then there were the people like Amy and I, people who didn’t know what to do with our lives until they were happening. I sat on that bench and hoped like crazy that they were all doing what they dreamed of.

                I didn’t think of them long, because I suddenly felt something poke my back. Before I could turn around, someone whispered “Give me your money.”

                My first thought was, ‘Really? Is this actually happening right now?’ Then I grabbed the robber’s arm from behind and twisted. The knife came out of his hand and bounced off the bench, onto the ground. I pulled him over the bench, and he landed on the ground in a heap. Arnold Harris looked up at me like he was looking at a ghost.

                “Holy s**t.” He stammered. “Michael Larson?”

                I didn’t know what to say. The man who’d just tried to rob me was the same kid I’d beat the s**t out of the day I left. It didn’t look like he forgot, either; his eyes were wide and his hands were up in the air, signaling surrender.

                I finally managed to say, “What the hell are you doing, Arnold?”

                He opened his mouth to speak, then pushed me aside, got up, and ran like hell back towards the Italian restaurant. I watched him run off and didn’t know what to do. So I laughed. I laughed hard because this was the most ironic situation I’d ever been in. And I couldn’t wait to tell Amy.