My favorite part of the day is right when darkness falls and the stars
start showing up, or when the starry sky is on the verge of becoming white
in the twilight of a new day. I remember when my mom and I would sit on
our apartment roof, before the pulse and before the drugs and all. I
remember how we would watch the stars appear and disappear. We'd try to
count and name them until there got to be so many we couldn't keep track
then when they started to disappear, we'd wave to each one, trying to
remember which name we'd given it. She used to sit on the ledge and I'd
stand between her legs, she'd wrap her arms around me and hold me close or
I'd sit on her lap, resting my head on her shoulder pointing and watching
the twinkling lights looking down on us. It sounds crazy, and maybe it's
just me lying to myself, but in those moments, I knew she loved me.
Despite anything that may have gone on in the previous hours. Despite the
neglect or abuse, in those seldom moments, with her arms around me, the
scent of her in my nose; in those moments, I knew she loved me. And if
that wasn't love, well then I don't know if I know what is.
I sighed, lighting a cigarette I'd pulled from my pants pocket, took a long drag, and gazed at the sky. After I'd walked out of the shack, I'd realized I didn't have anywhere to go. So I just sat in the back of a car and cried. Sure, what Scott had said had hurt, but what was worse was that he was right. I was being hypocritical. But what was worse was that I was turning into the one person I swore I'd never be like. I was turning into my mother. I hated her, but I was still becoming her. After I had cried as much as I thought I could I had snuck into the house to find Scott asleep on the bed, the blanket back around him. I wiped a few stray tears before grabbing a pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt. I was still wearing that horrid costume. I looked at myself in the mirror and wanted to break the damn thing. I even looked like her. After I dressed I went into the garage and made sure Rachel was okay. She'd stumbled into the garage and passed out against Scott's toolbox. I had totally forgotten her as Scott and I had argued.
Not having anywhere to sleep, and not really wanting to sleep I relented to the outdoors again. It was a clear night. And an old white, truck caught my eye. I climbed on top of it and sat on the roof. One of my legs was pulled up to my chest while the other lay limply on the cracked windshield. My elbow rested on the leg pulled up to my chest while my chin rested in one hand and my cigarette rested between the fingers of my other hand. I didn't smoke often, only when things got too stressful. Only when things were out of my control. As a matter of fact, the smokes were actually Rachel's. The last few months, I hadn't even bought a pack on my own even when we were swamped with work. My excuse was that working with carb cleaners and gasoline while smoking was not the brightest idea in the world, but in truth, I just didn't feel like the world was spinning away from me. At least, not until tonight.
I looked towards the shack and took another drag. I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the soft noise of cars in the distance and my own breathing. At this time of night that was all that could be heard. LA could actually be mistaken for a peaceful place. When I opened my eyes I saw Scott standing in the doorway. He'd pulled on a hoodie and some jeans and was leaning against the frame of the shack. Our stares met. Things around the place had been so tense lately. Actually, things had been tense ever since Scott had walked in on Rachel and me. Something had changed in him after that night. He kept acting funny, saying weird things or just not saying anything at all. If I didn't know better I'd think he was acting almost.jealous. But then I was acting almost jealous myself.
I took another drag. I didn't understand our recent change of behavior. I didn't understand what the big deal was. And it felt like my not understanding was the big reason I was sitting on the truck alone, thinking about the few times I actually felt like someone loved me. I just didn't understand it though. I mean, I was having fun. I was living my life. It was great. I was untouchable, right? Although, I did miss him. I'll admit it, Rachel and partying had taken up a lot of my life and I'd found myself spending less and less time with Scott unless we were actually working in the garage. And after what he said, I was rethinking my reign as the party princess.
I took another drag as I looked away from Scott. What he'd said really hurt, more than I had thought anything could hurt. As he came walking towards me, I bit my lip. I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't even know if I wanted to talk to him. All I knew is that I wasn't up for Round Two.
When he got to the truck he looked at me and nodded, "Whatcha doing?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.
I looked from the cigarette to the sky, "Just thinking."
"Oh." He nodded and stepped towards the truck to lean against the front of it.
I slid down the windshield and moved so I was sitting next to him on the hood. "How about you?" I asked.
He shook his head and looked toward the shack, "Nothing really. Can't sleep and I don't feel like working right now."
"Wow," I teased dryly, "Scott not in the mood to work on cars? Someone call the local papers."
Scott smiled slightly, "Yeah, well besides the fact that there's a black haired school girl sleeping on my tools, someone once told me that sometimes you gotta live a little."
I took another drag and looked away, "Oh, right."
He looked at the cigarette between my two fingers, "Those things will kill you."
"Yeah," I agreed, taking another drag, "Wanna die with me?" I offered him the rest of my cigarette.
He studied it then shrugged, taking it from my hand "Why not."
I watched him take a drag and nudged him, "You're a natural, Sparky."
"Well," he lamented, "To be honest, it's not the first one of these I've had." He took another drag and coughed a bit. He smiled ruefully. "Actually, I only started because I wanted to be like Zane in everything. He's the only guy I ever knew that could carry on a full conversation, leaning over an engine with a cigarette hanging from his lip and not get a single ash in the engine."
I nodded thoughtfully. Had he just opened up a piece of his past? "You quit?" I rested my head on his shoulder. I had to work at keeping the surprise out of my voice. Wow. Call it instinct, but I thought he had just told me a little something about the mysterious friend that had taught him everything he knew about cars. Maybe it was his way of apologizing. Or maybe Scott just wanted someone in his life he could trust enough to really talk to and that was a baby step.
Scott stiffened when we touched. "Yeah," he finally said.
"So, why'd you take that one?" I asked. I thought about asking more about Zane, but this wasn't the time or the place. It felt like our time, and nothing for the rest of the world.
"Dunno," he shrugged slightly, "Just felt like the right thing to do."
"Hmm." I murmured, my eyes looking up to gaze at the night sky, "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"
Scott looked at me, "Beautiful." He answered, not even batting an eye.
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, "My mom and I used to try to count and name them."
"Really?" Scott sounded surprised, at my look he recanted, "She just doesn't seem the type. Not from what you've mentioned, anyway."
I looked over at him, "I know," I gazed past him, studying an old washing machine, "But she loved me then." I shivered and focused on Scott, smirking, "I guess she had a few surprises up her sleeves, huh?"
"I guess so," Scott finished the cigarette and threw it down before stepping on it. "I'm sorry." He mumbled.
I lifted my head from my knee and looked away, "Yeah. I know."
"I didn't mean it, you know." He grabbed my hand, "I was just angry. Sometimes I lose it when I'm angry." He paused for a few seconds, like he had something else to say, but didn't want to. Finally he had this "what the hell" expression and said, "When I left the party, Jessie and I went to a coffee shop. I wasn't planning on bringing her back here. I was just going to walk her home, but we had to go past here and...and I don't know how it happened. She was insisting and I just wanted a distraction. When I got her in there, it didn't take long before I wanted her out more than anything else from her."
Watching him, I smiled. He was a good guy. Kind, sweet, almost perfect. I found myself reaching out to him and grabbing his arm. Ignoring the look he gave me I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling his back to my chest so he was between my thighs. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on his shoulder, hugging him to me, "Thank you, Scott." I whispered.
He turned his head a bit, "For what?" he whispered back.
I shrugged and hugged him tighter, "For letting me stay. For letting me help in the garage. For having the balls to kick my ass when I needed it. For just being you." I almost added, "for saving me from myself" but I think he knew anyways.
I felt him relax against me, "You're welcome." He offered.
I smiled and kissed his cheek, "You're too good to me, Sparky."
He moved to pull away but I held onto him, "No," I pleaded softly, "Just stay with me. You don't have to say anything, just stay."
He moved back against me and placed his elbows lightly on my thighs on either side of him, "Alright." He breathed.
I closed my eyes again and in that moment, just Scott and I, something changed in me. It would soon be a year that we'd been living together. We'd fixed up at least four cars from almost nothing and already had a few more we were starting in on, plus done a lot of repairs on good cars. I thought about all the time I'd spent with him, in the garage, in the shack, in the yard, in town picking up parts, everywhere. And I knew then that I loved him. Not in the mushy "Baby, I want you" way. But in the "my friend whom I love" sort of way.
I sighed and looked up to the stars. No matter how rough it got between Scott and I, and I knew we still had some talking to do, but no matter what, I would always remember this moment. Because in the moment, I was sure that Scott loved me too.
I sighed, lighting a cigarette I'd pulled from my pants pocket, took a long drag, and gazed at the sky. After I'd walked out of the shack, I'd realized I didn't have anywhere to go. So I just sat in the back of a car and cried. Sure, what Scott had said had hurt, but what was worse was that he was right. I was being hypocritical. But what was worse was that I was turning into the one person I swore I'd never be like. I was turning into my mother. I hated her, but I was still becoming her. After I had cried as much as I thought I could I had snuck into the house to find Scott asleep on the bed, the blanket back around him. I wiped a few stray tears before grabbing a pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt. I was still wearing that horrid costume. I looked at myself in the mirror and wanted to break the damn thing. I even looked like her. After I dressed I went into the garage and made sure Rachel was okay. She'd stumbled into the garage and passed out against Scott's toolbox. I had totally forgotten her as Scott and I had argued.
Not having anywhere to sleep, and not really wanting to sleep I relented to the outdoors again. It was a clear night. And an old white, truck caught my eye. I climbed on top of it and sat on the roof. One of my legs was pulled up to my chest while the other lay limply on the cracked windshield. My elbow rested on the leg pulled up to my chest while my chin rested in one hand and my cigarette rested between the fingers of my other hand. I didn't smoke often, only when things got too stressful. Only when things were out of my control. As a matter of fact, the smokes were actually Rachel's. The last few months, I hadn't even bought a pack on my own even when we were swamped with work. My excuse was that working with carb cleaners and gasoline while smoking was not the brightest idea in the world, but in truth, I just didn't feel like the world was spinning away from me. At least, not until tonight.
I looked towards the shack and took another drag. I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the soft noise of cars in the distance and my own breathing. At this time of night that was all that could be heard. LA could actually be mistaken for a peaceful place. When I opened my eyes I saw Scott standing in the doorway. He'd pulled on a hoodie and some jeans and was leaning against the frame of the shack. Our stares met. Things around the place had been so tense lately. Actually, things had been tense ever since Scott had walked in on Rachel and me. Something had changed in him after that night. He kept acting funny, saying weird things or just not saying anything at all. If I didn't know better I'd think he was acting almost.jealous. But then I was acting almost jealous myself.
I took another drag. I didn't understand our recent change of behavior. I didn't understand what the big deal was. And it felt like my not understanding was the big reason I was sitting on the truck alone, thinking about the few times I actually felt like someone loved me. I just didn't understand it though. I mean, I was having fun. I was living my life. It was great. I was untouchable, right? Although, I did miss him. I'll admit it, Rachel and partying had taken up a lot of my life and I'd found myself spending less and less time with Scott unless we were actually working in the garage. And after what he said, I was rethinking my reign as the party princess.
I took another drag as I looked away from Scott. What he'd said really hurt, more than I had thought anything could hurt. As he came walking towards me, I bit my lip. I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't even know if I wanted to talk to him. All I knew is that I wasn't up for Round Two.
When he got to the truck he looked at me and nodded, "Whatcha doing?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.
I looked from the cigarette to the sky, "Just thinking."
"Oh." He nodded and stepped towards the truck to lean against the front of it.
I slid down the windshield and moved so I was sitting next to him on the hood. "How about you?" I asked.
He shook his head and looked toward the shack, "Nothing really. Can't sleep and I don't feel like working right now."
"Wow," I teased dryly, "Scott not in the mood to work on cars? Someone call the local papers."
Scott smiled slightly, "Yeah, well besides the fact that there's a black haired school girl sleeping on my tools, someone once told me that sometimes you gotta live a little."
I took another drag and looked away, "Oh, right."
He looked at the cigarette between my two fingers, "Those things will kill you."
"Yeah," I agreed, taking another drag, "Wanna die with me?" I offered him the rest of my cigarette.
He studied it then shrugged, taking it from my hand "Why not."
I watched him take a drag and nudged him, "You're a natural, Sparky."
"Well," he lamented, "To be honest, it's not the first one of these I've had." He took another drag and coughed a bit. He smiled ruefully. "Actually, I only started because I wanted to be like Zane in everything. He's the only guy I ever knew that could carry on a full conversation, leaning over an engine with a cigarette hanging from his lip and not get a single ash in the engine."
I nodded thoughtfully. Had he just opened up a piece of his past? "You quit?" I rested my head on his shoulder. I had to work at keeping the surprise out of my voice. Wow. Call it instinct, but I thought he had just told me a little something about the mysterious friend that had taught him everything he knew about cars. Maybe it was his way of apologizing. Or maybe Scott just wanted someone in his life he could trust enough to really talk to and that was a baby step.
Scott stiffened when we touched. "Yeah," he finally said.
"So, why'd you take that one?" I asked. I thought about asking more about Zane, but this wasn't the time or the place. It felt like our time, and nothing for the rest of the world.
"Dunno," he shrugged slightly, "Just felt like the right thing to do."
"Hmm." I murmured, my eyes looking up to gaze at the night sky, "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"
Scott looked at me, "Beautiful." He answered, not even batting an eye.
I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, "My mom and I used to try to count and name them."
"Really?" Scott sounded surprised, at my look he recanted, "She just doesn't seem the type. Not from what you've mentioned, anyway."
I looked over at him, "I know," I gazed past him, studying an old washing machine, "But she loved me then." I shivered and focused on Scott, smirking, "I guess she had a few surprises up her sleeves, huh?"
"I guess so," Scott finished the cigarette and threw it down before stepping on it. "I'm sorry." He mumbled.
I lifted my head from my knee and looked away, "Yeah. I know."
"I didn't mean it, you know." He grabbed my hand, "I was just angry. Sometimes I lose it when I'm angry." He paused for a few seconds, like he had something else to say, but didn't want to. Finally he had this "what the hell" expression and said, "When I left the party, Jessie and I went to a coffee shop. I wasn't planning on bringing her back here. I was just going to walk her home, but we had to go past here and...and I don't know how it happened. She was insisting and I just wanted a distraction. When I got her in there, it didn't take long before I wanted her out more than anything else from her."
Watching him, I smiled. He was a good guy. Kind, sweet, almost perfect. I found myself reaching out to him and grabbing his arm. Ignoring the look he gave me I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling his back to my chest so he was between my thighs. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on his shoulder, hugging him to me, "Thank you, Scott." I whispered.
He turned his head a bit, "For what?" he whispered back.
I shrugged and hugged him tighter, "For letting me stay. For letting me help in the garage. For having the balls to kick my ass when I needed it. For just being you." I almost added, "for saving me from myself" but I think he knew anyways.
I felt him relax against me, "You're welcome." He offered.
I smiled and kissed his cheek, "You're too good to me, Sparky."
He moved to pull away but I held onto him, "No," I pleaded softly, "Just stay with me. You don't have to say anything, just stay."
He moved back against me and placed his elbows lightly on my thighs on either side of him, "Alright." He breathed.
I closed my eyes again and in that moment, just Scott and I, something changed in me. It would soon be a year that we'd been living together. We'd fixed up at least four cars from almost nothing and already had a few more we were starting in on, plus done a lot of repairs on good cars. I thought about all the time I'd spent with him, in the garage, in the shack, in the yard, in town picking up parts, everywhere. And I knew then that I loved him. Not in the mushy "Baby, I want you" way. But in the "my friend whom I love" sort of way.
I sighed and looked up to the stars. No matter how rough it got between Scott and I, and I knew we still had some talking to do, but no matter what, I would always remember this moment. Because in the moment, I was sure that Scott loved me too.