"Stick with the people who pull the magic out in you instead of the madness." – Unknown
Adam pulled out onto the highway quietly, giving Lacey time to settle her thoughts. He didn't want to bombard her, but at the same time, he wanted answers to a couple of key things here.
"I have just two questions," he finally spoke up after clearing his throat. "First, are you okay?"
"... Yes and no."
"Fair enough," Adam replied. "Secondly, why'd he do it? Who would leave a girl to fend for herself on the side of the road at 1am?"
He couldn't help the edge in his voice. Lacey never had any business being with that clown. Max Shipley had always had a tough reputation, and even though Adam had tried to cut him a break when they first started playing varsity against one another–he always tried not to assume anything about a person's behavior off the ice by what they did on it - it had become increasingly evident that the guy was a terrible sport. Then, to boot, there was what he'd done to Adam's car, which he could almost forgive more easily than what he'd just done to Lacey. Had the guy not known what she'd already been through?
"I guess the easiest answer is, I asked him to," Lacey replied quietly, staring out the window into the darkness.
"That bad, huh?" Adam glanced over at her.
Lacey reached up and swiped her hand across her cheeks. "Yeah. It was bad. But it's over. And this time, for good." She swallowed. "There's no coming back from this for us."
She continued to face away from him, and Adam knew why.
"Lacey?"
"Yeah?" Her voice sounded fragile.
"It's okay to cry."
Lacey sniffled, turning her head away from the window only a little. She still wouldn't look at him. "Thank you for this. I know it's late, but I didn't know who else to call."
He looked over and smiled. "I'm glad you did. And it'll all be okay. I mean you don't have to give me details, I'm just sorry it happened since I guess you were in love with the guy and all."
Lacey let out a short laugh. "Or it was just easy. I mean, he was there, and I was…" she trailed off.
It was then that Adam recognized what was glittering in her hands. It was a really nice tiara. And she was bending it hard enough to break it.
"Hey wait, what are you doing?" he reached over before he could think and gently took the tiara from her hands. "Is this your crown? Did you win Homecoming Queen?" He grinned, hoping to distract her.
But she just stared down at her empty hands as Adam reached to set the crown carefully in his back seat.
"It's a pretty big honor, Lacey. Be proud," he encouraged her.
"It's a plastic crown," she retorted suddenly, looking over at him with messed up makeup and anguish in her eyes. "A piece of plastic given to me because a bunch of high school kids apparently think I'm pretty and nice and have a hot hockey boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. But what does it really matter? I mean, is this my biggest lifetime achievement?"
"Well, you're in high school. No one expects you to win the Nobel Prize right now or anything, but… do you get what it means? People see good things in you. I mean, can't we look at it that way?"
Lacey didn't reply, leaning back against the headrest.
Adam gave her a sidelong glance. He could tell she had worked hard to look exquisite tonight. Her dress was a striking shade of blue, and every blonde hair on her head was well-placed with various rhinestones woven into the strands, each catching a gleam of moonlight through the window every so often.
She was really a beautiful sight to behold, cried-off makeup and all, but he bet she didn't feel that way right now. Not after being dumped on the side of the road. But Adam was going to have to let that part go so it didn't continue to piss him off so much.
At least she was safe now.
Meanwhile, he adjusted his vents again, trying to warm his body up as much as he could. The pain in his joints - particularly his shoulders and hips - was excruciating, and he'd spent all night trying to ignore it. They'd had a scrimmage against the Hornets, and by the time he'd removed all his pads at the end of the game, he couldn't move without gritting his teeth. Dr. Bartlett had given him some "Tylenol 3" and he had the IcyHot, but neither was working. Not like the Percocets had. But he had a feeling the doctor would want him to try this other stuff before he prescribed the heavy-hitters.
He was afraid he knew what Dr. Bartlett might be on the road to telling him: "Just stop playing hockey." But that wasn't an option and Adam would continue to get the potent pain meds any way he could, legal or otherwise. He knew plenty of pro players who'd had devastating injuries on the ice, yet somehow kept playing. He would just have to get tougher so he could do it, too. The NHL draft was in the center of his vision.
It was close to one-thirty when he finally pulled up in front of Lacey's modest townhome. As was his habit, he opened the door to get out of the car and walk with her up the sidewalk, but it took him a little longer to move tonight, and when the cold air hit him again, his knees nearly buckled. Even so, he came around the car to meet her.
She stood there facing him, hand on her hip. "Adam, you're hurting."
"No, I'm not."
"Don't lie. I saw you getting out of the car, I know you're in pain. This cold air can't be helping. Was there a scrimmage tonight?"
She stared up at him willfully before following him up the sidewalk. He hoped she would just go inside when they reached the door and let it go.
"Yeah, there was."
"Then that must be what kicked it off. Come inside, just for a few minutes?" she requested, bending to take a key out from under the welcome mat. His dad would be horrified that the Primmers left a key to one of his properties in such an insecure place. "I have something that might help you."
"It's okay, I'm headed back home. I'll take care of it when I get there."
"No, please. Come in." She unlocked the door and turned to look back at him. "Just for a minute."
Adam wanted to protest. All he wanted at this hour was to go to bed. But she really wanted him to come in, and he couldn't deny the bud of curiosity that was growing inside him. Lacey's family lived a pretty humble life - that much was evident the last time he'd gone in the house. But there was something about it that fascinated him, all the same.
"Fine. But not for long."
She led him into the hallway, then down to the door on the left which led to the living room. Adam took the opportunity to glance around once again.
The wallpaper was definitely outdated. Even he could see it had probably been in here since the seventies. He'd have to talk to his dad about that. The couch, a loveseat and an easy chair were all crammed as tastefully as they could be into the small space, facing a TV in an old console, a bookshelf nestled in beside it. But also around the room were potted plants, lots of photos hanging on walls and sitting on tables, and well-used throw pillows. Everything in here was fully lived in, and it gave off a sense of comfort Adam couldn't explain.
"Here," Lacey was instructing him, gesturing. "You can sit in the easy chair."
It was painful to sink down into the green upholstery, but Adam obeyed, looking up at her inquisitively.
"Just trust me. I'll be right back."
As Lacey left the room, Adam continued to look around, his eyes resting on the window her mother had slammed closed the night of the game when he'd come to pick Lacey and the girls up. He smiled a little. It was obvious she'd been smoking, but if his dad ever found out about it, it wouldn't be from him.
Several minutes went by, and Adam was just about to get up and go find Lacey when she emerged from the hallway with two long cloth sacks.
"Here. What hurts the most?"
Adam looked up at her, hesitantly. "Um, maybe my shoulders? I don't know, it's kind of all over."
"Okay. These are heat sacks my aunt in Mantorville made. You heat them in the microwave, and…well, smell." Lacey held one of the sacks close to his nose, which made him lean away warily.
"I'm weird about smells. What's in it?"
Lacey chuckled. "It's just lavender. Anyway, they're filled with rice and they feel divine when you've sprained an ankle or have a backache. Put one on each shoulder and just relax for a minute. If they help, you can take them home for a while."
"Ah, that's okay," Adam replied. "They're yo-ours." He paused mid-word as he felt the delicious warmth sink down into his aching shoulders. They did smell like lavender, but not too strong.
He let out a breath and closed his eyes for a minute. He could feel muscle knots, courtesy of tensing up against the joint pain, loosening. Even if the relief was only temporary, he was grateful for it.
Lacey sat down on the sofa reaching up to take the rhinestones and bobby pins out of her hair. So many pins, Adam noticed. She pulled them from her updo from every angle, and it was all Adam could do not to laugh.
"Surely you've heard back about your bloodwork," she spoke as she unwound her hair from its bobby pin-prison. "What did the doctor say?"
Adam sighed. "Do we have to talk about this?"
"Yes, we do," she answered quickly. "What did he say?"
"There is inflammation," Adam conceded. "He could tell from something he called a 'sed rate' that checks blood markers. So… yeah." He looked up to study the pictures on the wall. He identified one immediately as Lacey when she was probably around five years old, and smiled at her dark, wavy hair and teased bangs. She was beaming proudly, holding a Raggedy Anne doll and sporting pink saddle oxfords.
Lacey's eyes followed his, but then she looked back at him, still raking her hair down. "Did they do any x-rays? You never said."
"They did, and they can tell there's joint inflammation from those, too. They still just don't have a firm diagnosis." He took a deep breath and looked back at her, realizing he wasn't going to get away from this conversation. "But it's okay, I can deal with whatever it is. I mean it's obviously not cancer or anything."
"Is physical therapy helping at all?"
Adam thought about it. There were certain exercises the therapist had told him to do that had definitely been helping with some joint stiffness.
"I guess maybe some. I mean it helps me kind of manage the pain, but it still doesn't take it away. The therapist says to use ice to keep swelling down, but cold just hurts worse, so…" he shook his head, feeling the frustration building in his chest. "I don't really want to go into this right now. Let's focus on the fact you won Homecoming Queen. That's so cool, Lacey. Oh wait, I left your crown out in my car."
"I'll go out with you and get it when you leave. And Adam, thank you again. I mean you've helped me a ton tonight." She looked over at the picture he had been staring at before. "Do you ever feel like no one has the first clue who you really are? And that maybe you don't even know yourself?"
Adam knew the question was rhetorical, so he just watched her, waiting to see where she was going with this.
"I mean, Max said to me, while he was driving us home, before I… well, asked him to stop…that I was only voted Homecoming Queen because of him and his popularity. And he was right, to be honest. So I guess that's why I said what I did earlier about it. I just don't know if I want to be known as 'someone' only because of some jackass." She continued to rake through her hair, despite the fact that it had come down completely several minutes ago. It was almost like she was trying to rid herself of something.
"But you did also say you were probably voted in because people think you're pretty and nice. Couldn't that be a reason, too? I mean, if so, that's not even associated with Max."
"Well, but would they even know me if I wasn't dating Max?"
She had him there. Adam had no idea what people would think of Lacey if they really knew her apart from who she was with. I mean, did he?
But before he could respond, she continued. "I guess it doesn't matter now. I won, and the crown is pretty," she smiled distantly. "How are your shoulders?"
"Better," Adam glanced on each side of him at the sacks, catching a whiff of the lavender inside. "These are pretty cool. And you said your aunt made them?"
"Yeah. My Aunt Rachel. She's basically the only relative we talk to on my mom's side. And of course Stuart's family is all still in Scotland." Lacey finished her sentence with a yawn.
"Okay, well…" Adam braced to push himself up out of the easy chair, trying to keep a straight face despite the fire that reignited in his bones the moment he moved. Some days were worse than others with this, and today was definitely on tworse
Lacey stood. "Wait, I have one more question," she asked in a serious tone, taking a few steps toward him.
"What?" Adam straightened his back slowly as he rose fully out of the chair.
After pausing a moment for dramatic effect, Lacey grinned. "Did your mom notice yet?"
It took a minute for him to figure out what she was talking about, as his brain was beyond dead for the night, but he remembered their prank and laughed. "Not yet. I honestly can't believe it. She must not look at that shelf very often."
"Mine either!" Lacey's dark eyes danced. "Maybe we need to switch out the actual books they're reading right this minute. Then it would be right under their noses, literally."
"Hey, I'm up for that. I'll take one of your mom's books and put the bookmark in it," he plotted.
"Yes! And I'll do the same thing tomorrow. Now come on, let's get my crown out of your car."
Adam smiled to himself as they walked outside. Lacey was maybe beginning to embrace being Homecoming Queen. But before he left, there was one more thing he had to do.
After unlocking the car and wincing as he leaned into the backseat for her tiara, he stood to face her and carefully set it on her head himself. "There. I like it."
"Even without the fancy hair?"
"Especially without the fancy hair."
That's when she crossed the gap between them and stood on tiptoe, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a hug.
After recovering from the initial surprise and slight pain, Adam held the embrace. How tightly could he hug her back without her thinking him forward? As embarrassed as he would be to admit it to anyone, he'd never been in this position with a girl before other than the two on his hockey team. And post-game victory hugs were very different from this.
But just as he was about to say to hell with it and hug her tighter, she pulled back shyly.
"Just, you've been a great friend to me. I mean, and I do consider you a friend by now, gee. Paying for my coffee at a bougie place, teaching me all about hockey, picking me up from an old A&P in the middle of the night… I'd say you're a pretty standup guy. Never mind that you play for Eden Hall," she widened her eyes dramatically.
"Yeah? And you're alright yourself for a Rocket groupie," he grinned.
Lacey laughed and headed back toward the front door, turning once to wave at him before stepping inside and closing it.
With that, Adam left. He was tired. In pain. Cold. Angry at Shipley. But the memory of Lacey's soft brown eyes warmed his soul, and he gathered his strength to stay awake on the drive home and make it up the stairs, only to collapse onto his bed after taking another Tylenol.
