Tricks. Part 20

So what are you going to do?

She listens as I outline my non-plan for running away: Take off and see where I end up.

Finally she shakes her head.

Stupid idea. You can't just run off without some idea of where you're going and how you'll get there. The thing is, after we talked about it last time, I started thinking about the best way to leave this stinking s.h.i.t hole.

Does that mean she wants to go too? "Really?" I hope she came up with something good. "And ... ?"

Remember I told you about my dad's old girlfriend, Lydia?

Well, she lives in Henderson.

She told me to come visit any time.

We'll stay with her until we can find a way to get a place of our own.

She has thought this through!

A place of our own? Still ... "Are you sure you want to go too?"

h.e.l.l yeah, girl. You can't go alone. Besides, there's nothing for me here. Adventure calls!

I checked it out and the bus to Vegas costs thirty-five bucks.

No big deal, right? Any way you could come up with maybe fifty? I've got a little stashed.

Enough for smokes and c.o.kes.

Where could I get fifty bucks?

The answer smacks me in the face.

She owes me a lot more than that.

I Leave My Stuff Go on home. No cops, no alarms.

No one missed me at all. Not even Gram, who's fixing dinner.

In fact, everything seems so normal it almost makes me wonder if I imagined what happened earlier.

I go over to Gram, give her a hug. "Something smells good. We've sure missed your cooking around here! Where is everybody? Is Sandy home?"

If he is, how can I possibly go?

Gram keeps stirring her chili.

No. The tests they ran tired the little guy out. They're keeping him one more day, to be sure he'll be okay. Worry weights her sigh. He'll be just fine, though.

Guilt chews at me until a sudden whiff of Pine-Sol reminds me why I'm here. "Where's Iris?"

Gram shakes her head. She and her ... her friend went out.

I doubt we'll see her tonight.

Perfect. She won't miss it until morning, earliest. By then I'll be all the way to Vegas. Now I need a way back out of here. "Hey, Gram. I was invited to spend the night with my friend, Al-"

Probably should make up a name. "Alicia. We're going to study for finals. Is that okay?"

Sure thing, hon. I'm glad you're finally making some friends. Her smile initiates a new round of guilt.

Especially considering that not long after I'm gone, she'll find out I already messed up on my finals. Oh, well. By then she'll have given up on me anyway.

The Kids Are in the living room, watching the b.o.o.b tube. They don't see me slip down the hall, and that's best.

I go into Iris's room. Top dresser drawer, beneath her underwear- yech!-there's a navy blue sock, where she stashes her cash.

I watched her do it once when she was too drunk to realize I was standing right there. Sure enough, it's here, stuffed with s.e.x money. I count out two hundred, which doesn't include whatever Walt paid her. Screw it. I take the whole wad-four hundred sixty-nine dollars. In its place, I leave a note: Not even close to what you owe me. I hate you.

"Bye, Gram," I call, eyes stinging.

I ease out the door, into velvet night, chasing a glimpse of freedom.

When I Come Through the Door Alex is packed and waiting, rocking softly side to side in a nerve-fueled rhythm.

Wow. I've never seen her look so worried. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Her odd movement stills and she looks at me with shimmering eyes. I've wanted to run forever, but I was scared to run alone. I never told you the truth about Paul.

he's not my stepdad. Mom and him never got married.

When they sent her away, he let me stay with him, but only if I ... you know.

I have nothing here, or anywhere, except for what I have with you. Let's go before he gets home, okay?

The Half-Empty Bus Idles, preparing for departure.

The diesel fumes are strong, but the seats are comfy. No one cares about Alex and me in back, sipping rum from a water bottle. Before long, I feel zero fear. Zero pain.

I flip up the armrest between us, slip my hand into hers.

Heedless of any prying eyes, she kisses me, and I kiss back, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

My heart dances. My body, abused so viciously just hours ago, at last knows joy.

As the bus begins to roll, my lips spill words unspoken until now. "I love you, Alex."

I love you too. Now let's get the flying f.u.c.k out of here.

Together we break free.

A Poem by Cody Bennett Flying Is that what it's like when you die? Do you slip out of your skin, go soaring up into a b.u.t.terscotch sky? Do you surf waves of light? How far?

How high?

I hope that's what it's like, but I'm afraid it's a lot more like falling with no net to catch you, and no way of knowing how hard you will hit or where you'll stop. Will you touch down back on Earth, or will you land in the nightmare you always feared you'd never wake up from?

Cody

Funerals Suck

This isn't the first one I've had to go to. There were a couple in Wichita. But this is the first one that mattered. Old people are supposed to die. Jack wasn't old, and he sure wasn't ready to die.

It's a blistering day, and we're standing here graveside, dressed all in black. f.u.c.k you, Jack. How could you leave us? You swore you'd take care of us. And now you're nothing but pickled flesh, broken promises. Mom is a mess, although she pretends she's okay and looks steadier than Cory, who is completely tattered. The two brace each other, trying to stop shaking as the minister drones on about Going home to his heavenly father.

Funny, but none of us really thought much about heaven until the last few weeks. Is there such a place, and is Jack already there? Is there a chance in h.e.l.l someday I'll join him?

If Funerals Suck Wakes are worse. I don't even know who half these people are, laughing and drinking and scarfing the food they brought so Mom wouldn't have to worry about cooking for a day or two.

They should just go and leave the food. Better yet, run to the grocery store and fill up the fridge. It's almost empty.

The only thing emptier is my chest-where my heart used to be.

The doorbell rings. I open it to find Ronnie, a total knockout despite how ashen her face looks.

Is all that pale meant for me?

Hey, you. Her voice is soft. So is the hand that touches my cheek.

How are you doing? Sorry I missed the service. I meant to come, but I overslept and ...

She shakes her head. The truth is, cemeteries scare me to death.

The last word makes her flinch.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not big on them either." I take her hand, pull her through the door. No one else has even noticed her presence. Good. "Let's go to my room, okay?" I want to hold her, want to make love to her. Need to feel something warm and alive. Need to fill that empty s.p.a.ce inside. I lead her to my disheveled bedroom.

"Sorry it's so messy," I whisper, pulling her into me. "G.o.d, you smell good." Like baked apples.

Not like flowers. Don't want to smell those. They remind me of death. Ronnie rises on her tiptoes, lifts her slick, honey-sweet lips to meet mine. It's the sweetest kiss ever, but it soon becomes more. I lock the door, guide her to my bed, and for maybe the very first time, s.e.x is more than getting off. This time, s.e.x feels like love.

For the First Time I stop myself before Big Bang, look down into Ronnie's violet blue eyes. "I love you." And at this moment, I do. And at the words, surprise (or maybe disbelief) contorts her pretty face. "What?"

Nothing. She smiles. It's just ...

wow. She undulates seductively, the rise and fall of her body like salty waves beneath my own.

Another first, this time no faking climbing higher and higher, until she finishes with an amazing gush and tears of satisfaction.

I love you, too, she exhales softly.

We lie, tangled together, unmoving, unspeaking. And we both know this is what s.e.x should be.

All Awesome Things Must come to an end, d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l. Ronnie and I are slipping toward sleep, still intertwined, when the doork.n.o.b rattles. Cody?

It's Cory. Good thing I locked it.

Are you in there? Can I come in?

Ronnie starts to scramble.

I hold her tight, put a finger to my lips. "Shh." Then I say toward the door, "Just a minute, okay?" I've never had a girl in here. He probably thinks I'm taking care of business, solo. I really don't want to let Ronnie go. All the hurt will come flooding back. But Cory is waiting. I kiss Ronnie's face, her neck, lick the shimmer of sweat from the deep fold between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She sighs, and that makes me want more.

But Cory again b.u.mps the door.

I rest my chin on her belly, look into her eyes. "Thank you."

We Throw on Clothes But dressed or undressed, it's obvious what we've been doing in here. When I open the door, Cory is pretty much amazed. Oh. Uh ... sorry. I, uh, didn't know you ...

His face is the approximate shade of an unripe plum.

Ronnie and I both have to grin. "No problem, bro. Oh, this is Ronnie. We've been going out for a while now."

Cory has no patience for my method of dealing with grief.

His voice, curt, slices the air.

Yeah, well, people are starting to leave. Mom's looking for you.

He pivots sharply, leaves the room.

I start to apologize, but Ronnie stops me, stroking my lips with soft fingertips. It's okay. He's hurting. And your mom needs you right now. I should go. Her kiss is a bittersweet good-bye.

One by One Everyone leaves. Mom stands at the door, looking worn. Torn.

Emptied. She has managed the day so far without breaking down.

But now she dissolves. I go to her, put my arm around her shoulder, steer her to the sofa. "Sit down.

I'll get you a drink." Something strong, to help her sleep. She hasn't slept much since the day Jack up and left us. Mom isn't much of a drinker. I pour her three fingers.