[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.My parents were nothing short of horrible, but I’d been lucky enough to fall into a group of friends who became my brothers.Apparently, Nola didn’t even have that; she was all on her own.“At least you learned to fight back,” she said, jarring me back to reality.“Every year there was a new city and new bully waiting to torment me.All I did was pray for the day I could finally get the hell out and live some kind of normal life.” Nola wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.“Trust me, Scout.My mother doesn’t give a damn about me.Nobody does.”Her words stabbed at my heart.I wondered what kind of mother could turn her back on a girl like Nola; it was too inconceivable for me to wrap my brain around.“That’s not true,” I blurted out.“I care about you, Nola,” I reached for her hand, “a lot.”“Scout,” she sighed, “you haven’t even known me that long.”“Baby you can’t put a time limit on what’s meant to be.”“Oh, God.” Nola laughed, but not a happy one.Instead it came tumbling out like she’d heard a stupid joke and was playing along out of sympathy.“Please tell me you don’t believe in happily ever after, soul mates, and true love.”Her burst of cynicism caught me off guard, but I tried to brush it off.“Would it be such a bad thing if I did?”Her smile disappeared.“Yeah, actually, it would.”“And why’s that?”“Because love is dangerous.I saw what it did to my mother and I told myself that would never happen to me.”“Never?” I asked, taking Nola’s words as a challenge I was determined to beat.“Never,” she said again, her curly hair swaying back and forth.Game on.13 Nola“Midnight, right?” Scout asked.We were sitting in his Mustang and I was trying to convince myself that the next 12 hours wouldn’t be so bad.I was doing a horrible job, though.I knew it would be hell.“Yeah, midnight,” I said, not bothering to try to talk Scout out of picking me up this time.I would probably never admit it, but the truth was, I was looking forward to it.“You can still back out, you know,” he said, stroking my hand.I caught him staring at my lips and for a millisecond I thought he might kiss me.“And do what? Run away? Become a hobo? Join the circus?” I chuckled.I was already sleepy, slightly delusional, and was starting to sound like a crazy person.Maybe my mother and I weren’t so different after all.When I was little, she’d ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, suggesting all manner of ridiculous jobs.“You can be a magician, or a folk singer, or an acrobat!” she said once.“You’re already flexible, Nola darling.Maybe you can be all three.”I giggled at Sandy Jane’s absurd ideas before turning somber.“I just want a regular job, mommy.You know like a nurse or a banker.”“Why? Regular jobs are nothing but traps that suck the life right out of you.Don’t you want to see the world? Do something crazy? Have some fun?” my mother asked.“Yeah, I guess,” I said, thinking about how much I adored our trips to Saint Ann’s Parish.“But not all the time, mommy.”My mother patted my head and sighed.“Such a serious little girl.You need to live a little.You’ll see.”And I did.I saw how my parents’ fast living left my father dead and my mother a hollowed-out shell of her former self, so concerned with dulling her own pain she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, acknowledge mine.I saw how “living” quickly dissolved my quirky, but amazing childhood that was once full of adventure, love, and laughter, into an extended nightmare I was still trying to wake up from.I saw it all, and it was way too much to handle.If that was living, I told myself, I wanted none of it.“You can call in sick and we can ride up the coast, get some seafood in Santa Barbara and just hang out,” Scout said, his eyes pleading.I knew that look.It was the same one I’d give my mom when I begged her to spend time with me.I’d ask if she wanted to go to the movies or get ice cream or have a picnic in the park.Each time I got the same answer, “Maybe tomorrow, Nola darling.Mommy doesn’t feel like going out today.” I kept asking, every weekend for two years straight, until I realized my mother just didn’t feel like going out with me.I touched the side of Scout’s smooth face; he’d shaved the hint of beard that sprouted up on his chin.His skin felt soft beneath my palm and I could smell the remnants of his cologne.It seemed impossible, but I’d stumbled on a great guy, perhaps the last one in L.A.I could feel the tug of my heart whenever I looked into Scout’s deep brown eyes or each time his hand touched mine, but I refused to give in.“That sounds great, but—“He cut me off.“Don’t even think about it, let’s just go.”“Scout—““Come on, Nola.Live a little.”I took my hand away; Scout echoed my mother’s dangerous advice.She wanted me to live, like her and my father had, and I couldn’t chance it.Look what happened to them.“I can’t, Scout.” I grabbed my things and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.“Sorry.”I ran up the stairs leading to the restaurant and didn’t look back.Normally I would’ve stolen a glace at him or given Scout a quick wave, but I didn’t have the energy, or the resolve to deal with my unwelcomed feelings.It would help if he were an asshole or a jerk—that would make cutting Scout out of my life easy.But he was so thoughtful and attentive, and downright gorgeous, I wasn’t actually sure I’d be able to let him go.I dragged into Pink Taco and headed straight for the back room.I plopped down on a bench, put my head in my hands, and said a little prayer.“Please God let this day go by fast,” I whispered.“Or send a flock of locust into the restaurant, whatever’s easier.Amen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]