|Truth About Forever From Wes
Author: Summer Glory PM
The title says it all. Just something I'm experimenting with. If you like it and want me to keep going just review.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 12 - Words: 28,154 - Reviews: 231 - Favs: 130 - Follows: 204 - Updated: 06-15-12 - Published: 03-13-07 - id: 3439251
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Guess what I did…Updated! Again, sorry it's been so long, I hope you like it. I'd also like to apologize to the reviewers I didn't respond to from my last chapter. I appreciate all of them and thank you for the kind words! Enjoy
Kyle and Levi lumbered up to the Bertmobile at some point. They gave Macy the once-over, but, besides a few appreciative glances, they were polite. Kristy had gotten her a beer, and it was comical to watch her stiffen every time she took a sip. It was obvious this hadn't been her typical Friday night in high school, and I had to admit that I felt a little guilty bringing her along. But, overall, she seemed to be comfortable and enjoying herself. She appeared to blend in with ease to the surrounding crowd with the look that Kristy had masterminded. I caught myself checking her out once more, and awkwardly cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair, though no one had noticed.
Kyle subtly pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and offered them around. Levi grabbed one, and, as he pulled a cheap lighter out of his pocket, Kristy made a sound of protest.
"If you don't mind," she started politely. "Could you guys smoke those somewhere else?"
"Sure thing, gorgeous," Kyle said with a grin, heading around the ambulance with Levi. He turned to realize I wasn't following and said, "Hey, will you join us? I wanna chat."
I nodded once and followed the two. They lit up and took a few drags. I itched for a cigarette as I smelled the sweet smoke, but I had successfully quit and I wasn't about to start up again. Instead, I watched the little puffs of smoke disappear into the humid night air.
"So…" Kyle began a little awkwardly, and I was certain he was going to ask about Macy. Instead, he surprised me with, "How's Becky doing?"
Kyle had always had eyes for Becky. It was something that had bothered me at first, but I knew Kyle now. He was a loyal friend, and I trusted him not to try anything. He looked at me now uneasily, and I knew he would only ask about her if he was desperate for information.
"She's okay," I said, running a hand through my hair. "She hates it there, though. You know how she is."
He let out a laugh.
"She's never been one for authority," Levi stated, taking a quick drag before nursing his beer in his other massive hand.
"You miss her?" asked Kyle.
I met his eyes evenly, challenging him to undermine the legitimacy of my feelings for my girlfriend. "Of course I do."
He cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded.
"When are they setting her loose?" Levi asked.
I shrugged, opening my ears to the relaxing babble of voices and music of Crooked Stick. "It's up to her. If she's good, then in about a month or two. But it just takes one screw-up."
Kyle said, "She'll be a good girl if it means getting out."
"If she had been a 'good girl', she'd already be out," I told him.
The three of us were silent for a bit. Since I was closest to the ambulance, I could hear Kristy's voice just barely.
"Sort-of boyfriends," she was saying. "They sort-of like you, then they sort-of don't. The only thing they're absolutely sure of is they want to get into your pants. I hate that." If I had been a dog, my ears would prick in interest to the feminine voice. Call me scum, but this sounded interesting.
"Mmm-hmm," came Monica's profound reply.
"Actually," came Macy's voice. I could tell she was a little affected by the beer; a lightweight, no doubt. Normally, her voice was quiet. Not meek, just low and soft in volume. It was gradually becoming more prominent, which I assumed correlated to the alcohol intake. "It's not like that, exactly. We're more sort-of not together, and not broken up. We're on a break."
Of course she had a boyfriend. Of course, of course, of course. Kristy had even said she had the feeling Macy did, but I just brushed it off. I felt guilty when I noticed a tug of disappointment deep in my gut. It was awful of me to be disappointed; I had a girlfriend, and I wasn't a cheater.
"A break," Kristy said slowly. "Meaning…"
I didn't even notice Levi and Kyle getting into a heated debate over something as I waited for Macy's answer, listening intently from my hiding spot. Insects buzzed loudly from the woods hedging the clearing, nearly drowning out the white noise of the crowd of mingling teenagers and young adults.
"Meaning that there were some concerns about us not wanting the same things, not having the same expectations. So we've agreed to not be in contact until the end of the summer, and then we're going to see where we stand."
There was some more silence. "That," said Kristy, "is just so very mature."
"Well, that's Jason," said Macy. I repeated the name in my head, sounding it out. I'd never liked that name. Never had met a Jason I'd liked, in fact, I concluded satisfactorily. "It was his idea, really."
"Wes, man, tell him these Black and Milds are shit," Levi stated loudly in my ear, shaking a box of gas station-bought cigars in my face.
"These Black and Milds are shit," I repeated automatically, struggling to hear.
Levi punched me in the arm, and I winced. He hadn't been nicknamed Paul Bunyan in high school for nothing. The guy was enormous. "I told you, man!" he shouted drunkenly, and Kyle leaned away, out of punching distance. For a second, I thought my cover was going to be blown and I'd see Kristy or Macy or Monotone poke their head around the van to see what all the fuss was about. It wasn't like I'd heard anything terrible, but I was eavesdropping on "girl talk", which, in Kristy's slightly warped opinion, was one of the greatest crimes of all. But nobody came to investigate, and, after Levi calmed down, I could hear again.
"…hardly reacted to Wes," Kristy was saying, and my brows furrowed. Why was she bringing me into this? "I mean, you did a little, but nothing like most girls. It was a little swoon. Not a sa-woon, you know?"
I could just picture Macy's face as she repeated slowly, "Sa-woon?" Kristy had a way with words.
"Oh, come on. Even a blind girl could tell he's amazing."
I wasn't a guy with a low self-esteem, but hearing this was definitely not hurting me. I glanced at Levi, studying him to see if he was readying himself for another outburst. But, in all honesty, he looked to be about two minutes away from passing out. I noted this probably a little too happily.
"So why haven't you gone out with him?" Macy countered cleverly.
"Can't," Kristy replied without missing a beat. "He's too much like family. I mean, after the accident, when my mom flaked out and took off to find herself and we came to live with Stella, I was crazy for him. We both were."
"Bettaquit," Monica said warningly, not liking the fact her sister was spilling her secrets. I always had the feeling Monica resented me a lot for spurning her, and I knew it was because she was a girl with moderately low self-esteem and confidence. Then again, it was hard to spurn a girl that was almost physically incapable of showing interest in, well, anything.
"It's still a sore subject," Kristy explained. "Anyway, I did everything I could to get his attention, but he'd just gotten back from Myers School then, was still dealing with his mom dying and all that. So he had a lot on his mind. At least I told myself that's why he could resist me."
I felt myself grin. I loved Kristy to death, and I knew I'd like her as soon as I'd met her. But she was right, I had never seen her as more than a sister. She was beautiful, smart, and confident, sure, but she wasn't for me. She deserved somebody great, though, somebody that would worship the ground she walked on and treat her like the princess she was. But that guy had never been me.
"Myers School?" Macy repeated, and I felt a little lurch.
"Yeah," said Kristy. "It's a reform school." I knew she wouldn't say more, but Macy didn't push the subject. I wasn't certain whether this was a good or bad thing. At least if she asked, Kristy could let her know I hadn't done anything too awful, like hurt somebody. But at the same time, I liked to keep that part of my past out of my present.
"Okay, tell us about the sort-of boyfriend."
"Oh," said Macy, not expecting this. "We've been dating for a year and a half. He went away for the summer, and a couple of weeks after he left, he decided we take this break. I was really upset about it. I still am, actually."
I hadn't realized I'd been leaning forward in my chair until I felt myself slump back into it in surprise. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Who would want to take a break from such a gorgeous girl?
"So he met someone else," Kristy concluded a little cynically.
"No, it's not like that," Macy countered defensively. "He's at Brain Camp."
"Huh?" came Monica's verbose reply.
"Brain Camp. It's like a smart-kid thing."
I snorted to myself. The kid couldn't be too smart, in my opinion.
"Then he met someone else at Brain Camp," Kristy said. You couldn't blame the girl; in the Chronicles of Kristy, she'd been cheated on and dumped for other girls (and one guy) more times than I could count. I had no idea why; the other girls were always trashy things compared to Kristy. But together, we decided that there was just no one man enough to take on her ferocious spunk and independence, and this was something I truly believed in at heart.
"No, it's not about someone else."
"Then what is it about?" Kristy asked, a little frustrated that she couldn't comprehend Macy's dilemma.
"Well, a lot of things." There was a pause, then, "Basically, it came down to the fact that I ended an email by saying I loved him, which is, you know, big, and it made him uncomfortable. And he felt that I wasn't focused enough on my job at the library. There's probably more, but that's the main stuff."
All was quiet as the three of us processed this. I was trying to dispel the immense disappointment that was clouding my head as I took in the fact that she loved this guy. Maybe I could somewhat see why he would freak out over that (not that I'd mind having a pretty girl telling me she loved me), but what was the deal about the library? Was she not stacking books fast enough?
Who was this guy?
"Donneven," said Monica. And, for once, I felt like she had summed everything up pretty well.
But my eavesdropping was rudely interrupted as I jumped from my seat in a successful effort to dodge Levi's projectile vomiting.
"Oh, dude! Gross" exclaimed Kyle, looking at his puke-covered shoes in despair. Levi took one look at him and let out a few guffaws before round number two of the vomiting began.
My nose wrinkling in disgust at the pungent aroma, and the rest of the conversation lost to my ears, I sidestepped the shenanigans and took off across the clearing, calling out to them, "I'm going to go look for paper towels."
I wasn't going to look for paper towels, even though I craved to come back and gain more insight into the life of the elusive Macy. Truth is, I felt pretty guilty about hearing what was obviously not meant for my ears. And I also needed to meet an old friend for some rebars I'd been promised.
Rebar in hand, I loped across the clearing once again. I noted with a mixture of chagrin and quiet joy that Macy was all alone this time.
She hadn't seen me yet; I could easily just turn around and walk away from her. I should turn around and walk away, I knew that. But I didn't.
"Hey," I said. She looked up at me in subdued surprise as I approached, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. I set the rebar down in the ambulance before taking a seat next to her. "Where is everybody?"
"The keg," Macy said, nodding towards the other side of the clearing where a cluster of kids could be seen.
The paragon of an "awkward silence" ensued for the next minute. We both stared ahead of us, pretending (at least on my part) to be interested in the drunken antics of the people within sight. At some point, a summer breeze ruffled Macy's hair, sending the smell of shampoo and the slightest hint of perfume directly towards my nose. She smelled so feminine, so sensual. I took deep breaths of it as I stared straight ahead, resisting the urge to look at her to put a feminine and sensual image to the smell.
"So," Macy said, startling me out of my reverie. "What is that?"
When I turned to her, she was staring at me. I almost reached a hand to my face, expecting to have something on it. Levi vomit, perhaps. But she quickly glanced down at my arm. "Your tattoo, I mean. I've never been able to see what it is."
"Oh," I said, a little relieved I seemed to be vomit free. I pushed my shirtsleeve up so she could get a better view. "It's just this design. You saw it that first day you came out to Delia's, right?"
She nodded slowly, but I could tell (with no small amount of pride) that she was entranced by the design. I watched her grey eyes follow the lines.
"Right," she said in a soft, distracted voice. She looked up at me again. "Does it mean something?"
I tilted my head. "Sort of. It's something my mom used to draw for me when I was a kid." I could still see my mom's fingers wrapped around a pen as she drew the design at the kitchen table on lazy afternoons. She used to draw it on my lunch bags, on cards, anything that would let Bert and me know that it was from her.
"Really," Macy said.
I nodded. "Yeah. She had this whole thing about the hand and the heart, how they were connected." I traced my finger lightly over the design before looking back up at her. "You know, feeling and action are always linked, one can't exist without the other. It's sort of a hippie thing. She was into that stuff."
Macy had a tiny smile on her face as she stared at the design. She looked back up at me, her eyes bright. "I like it," she said. "I mean, the idea of it. It makes sense."
I smiled, looking back down at my tattoo. "After she died I started tinkering with it, you know, with the welding. This one has the circle, the one on the road has the barbed wire. They're all different, but with the same basic idea."
"Like a series," she said.
I shrugged. "I guess. Mostly I'm just trying to get it right, whatever that means."
"It's hard to do," she said after a moment of silence.
I looked at her. "What is?"
She was quiet for a second or two. Then she said softly, "Get it right."
I thought about this, how accurate of a statement it was. I felt like it could only be understood by people like us, that had gone through hell and back. "Yeah," I finally said after turning it over in my head. "It is."
I caught another waft of her charming aroma as another light breeze stirred her hair. I envisioned tracing my fingers over her bare shoulder. It looked silky, just barely kissed by the sun. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep my inappropriate thoughts at bay.
"I'm sorry about your mom," Macy said out of the blue.
I kept my eyes forward. "I'm sorry about your dad," I said softly. "I remember him from coaching the Lakeview Zips, when I was a kid." I remembered him perfectly. He had a big smile that crinkled his whole face and grey eyes just like Macy. I noticed them because they were always so vibrant and bright during our meets, even when we were doing poorly. I wondered if Macy used to have that same spark in them before tragedy struck her life. "He was great," I said, with all the sincerity in the world.
We were quiet again until something sparked my curiosity. "So, why'd you stop?"
She looked at me, a little startled. "Stop what?"
She looked down into her cup. "I don't know," she said quietly, unconvincingly. "I just wasn't into it anymore."
"How fast were you?" I asked, genuinely interested.
She shrugged. "Not that fast."
"You mean you couldn't….fly?" I asked, grinning at her.
She kept her head ducked as her face turned a little pink, but she was smirking. "No, I couldn't fly."
"What was your best time for the mile?"
She looked at me suspiciously. "Why?"
I cleared my throat. "Just wondering," I said. "I mean, I run. So I'm curious." The curiosity was bubbling over.
"I don't remember," she lied.
"Oh, come on, tell me," I pleaded, bumping her shoulder with mine. "I can take it."
She tilted her head back in faux exasperation before looking at me, smiling. "Okay, fine. My best was five minutes, five seconds."
I stared at her. It was a struggle to keep the look of shock off of my face. "Oh," I squeaked.
"What? What was yours?" Her eyes widened with her own curiosity.
I coughed and turned my head. "Never mind." No way in hell did she need to know how badly she could kick my ass.
She laughed. "Oh, see, that's not fair."
"It's more than five-five, let's leave it at that." I smiled a little sheepishly.
"That was years ago," she said, as if that made a difference to my poor, wounded ego. "Now I probably couldn't even do a half a mile in that time."
I met Kristy's eyes across the clearing. Some blonde guy was talking to her. For a second I thought he might be deaf and trying to sign with her, his arms were moving around so much. But her eyes and smile were mischievous as she looked at me, flitting her catlike eyes pointedly at Macy. I looked away.
I picked up a rod and pretended to be interested in it. "I bet you could," I told Macy. "I bet you'd be faster than you think." I rolled my eyes toward her with a smirk. "Though maybe not fast enough to fly."
"You could outrun me easily, I bet," she stated.
I looked ahead, into the clearing. "Well," I began, knowing I should just bite back the sentence and let it die. But I continued. "Maybe someday, we'll find out."
The proposition hung in there, that possibility of being friends and doing things beyond catering and hanging out with the gang. I could feel her looking at me, studying me, but I couldn't find it in myself to look back. Instead, I watched as Kristy, Bert, and Monica approached the Bertmobile.
"Twenty minutes to curfew," Bert exclaimed, louder than warranted as we were right there. "We need to go."
"Oh my God," Kristy said, feigning shock. "You might actually have to go over twenty-five to get us home in time!"
I smiled as Bert glowered at her, and crawled backwards into the van, pulling the doors shut after everyone had settled in. Then we made our way home.
As we exited the Bertmobile together after dropping Macy off at her car, Kristy caught up to me and gave me a look.
"What?" I asked her.
"I think Macy's into you, Wes," she stated. I looked ahead. "And I think you're into her."
"I'm dating Becky," I told her firmly.
She snorted. "What a coincidence, you have another thing in common: you're both dating losers that you're too good for."
With that said, she bounced ahead, leaving me to ponder what she'd said. It was the first time I hadn't automatically defended Becky.
Either way, I knew I liked talking to Macy. Once I got over the fact I found her incredibly attractive, I wouldn't feel like I'd just cheated on Becky every time I talked to the blonde beauty. I could see her becoming a friend, if anything.