Chapter 8

Sounds of piercing laughter woke me up the next morning. My face pressed on my floral sheets and I laid under my comforter, eyes open and listening to voices from downstairs. I could clearly distinguish Kim's cackle, Jared's guffawing, and my mom's loud giggles. But there was a fourth sound: a deep and deliberate laugh. Paul, I thought. But why was he back again so early?

I pulled on a large black sweatshirt and headed down stairs to see Jared and Kim at our kitchen table and my mother and Paul standing near the griddle, making pancakes like it was Leave it to Beaver. Their laughter tapered off when they saw my confused face.

"This one looks like a frog," Kim said to me, showing me an oddly shaped pancake, trying to explain their sudden humorous burst. I didn't respond to her, but instead looked at Paul. He looked so chummy with my mother, still in the same clothes as the night before.

"Did you sleep here?" I asked.

My mom interjected. "I said he should, Lovie. You guys came back so late. He slept on the couch with Jared." I looked over to a very well rested Jared who wore an impish grin and stroked Kim's arm like a pet cat. Slept on the couch my ass. Mom's room was down the hall on the other side of the house, but Kim and I shared a wall. I was certain he experienced no couch sleeping.

But Paul looked a little rugged, a little less rested. Our sofas were not particularly comfortable and he didn't live all that far. After 7 hours in the car and an emotionally tumultuous day, why wouldn't he go home and crash in his own bed?

I sat down at the table and he sat down next to me, my mom still flipping pancakes. He placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, his large biceps so close to my face as he leaned over to me. "I hope it's okay," he whispered. "I just wanted to be close to you."

I looked at him wide eyed and expressionless. I nodded my head. It did feel ok, I supposed.

My mom came and set some pancakes in front of us.

"Thanks, Chris," he said with a relaxed smile. My mother was generally a Christina, sometimes Ms. Conweller, but Paul jumped right into Chris. He was so at ease around her, unlike the detached mood he had with his own mother.

He gleaned over to me and whispered in his husky voice. "I have to do some stuff today with Jared, and Sam,"

"Sam? You mean Emily's boyfriend? That older man that was at the bonfire?"

Jared chuckled, hearing my words. "He's only 21, Mal," Jared said before stuffing his face with an oversized bite.

I crinkled my brow and looked at Paul. "There is no way," I said, trying to confirm. There was nothing boyish about Sam. In addition to towering over a very huge Paul and Jared, his skin was tougher and his hands were more coarse. No part of him looked like he recently exited the teen years.

"He's just really mature," offered Paul, meagerly. He tried to get back on topic. "Anyway, Emily's birthday is tonight. Do you want to come to her party? You can go with Kim and meet us there," his eyes seemed hopeful.

I looked at Kim who opened her eyes wide at the idea. I was breaking my own rules of our agreement. He hadn't made all the apologies yet, but we seemed to be spending quite a bit of time together anyway. And, to top it off Kim knew I wasn't a huge Emily fan. But a part of me, and a growing one at that, liked being around Paul.

I shook my head yes. He beamed like a child on Christmas.

Kim was undeniably a terrible driver. This was mostly due to lack of practice, in my opinion. I mean there was no reason she couldn't be a good driver, but Jared drove her pretty much everywhere. So, as we walked toward our mom's Pontiac that evening to go to Emily's birthday party, I insisted she take the wheel. Of course I would come to regret that decision.

Maybe the whole thing was my fault. I wasn't trying to push buttons and it wasn't that I didn't like Emily. I could recognize she was a good friend to Kim. Still, they weren't friends before Jared. Emily grew up on another reservation and was also a few years older. The circumstances of how she got together with the man-boy were kind of hazy to me, but my real issue with her was her obsession with muffin baking.

"Who wants muffins?"; "Oh snap! I'm out of flour for muffins!" ; "Kim, let's make muffins!"

This vomit seemed to come out of her mouth whenever I was near her, which purposefully wasn't that often. It was strange that she seemed entirely ready to accept some sort of 1950s Donna Reed role and provide an abundance of baked goods for a bunch of teenage dudes. Why couldn't they bake their own fucking muffins? Because they had dicks? And furthermore, I didn't want Kim to be sucked into that shit. Kim's passivity about it really bothered me. So, since I was invited to Emily's birthday party, of course I had to bring her a present that might enlighten her and maybe Kim too.

"Would you just tell me what it is?" Kim barked at me as my present for Emily sat nicely wrapped on my lap. The car jerked back and forth as she was heavy on the break.

"I'm sure you'll see it," I sniggered, smug over the hilarity of my gift. "Won't she open them at the end?"

"Is it something that's going to embarrass her Mal? It's her birthday." I pursed my lips at this. I thought this was the perfect gift. It might help her in the long run, but maybe I should give Kim a heads up , I thought.

"It's The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvior." It was a classic in my opinion and might give Emily some important history lessons on why she should give her male friends a baking lesson and do something more worthy with her time.

Kim huffed. Clearly she didn't think it was as apropos as I did.

"What are you trying to insinuate Mallory? That she views herself as subordinate? She's a bad woman because she's engaged at a young age?" I made Kim listen to the audio version last summer on our road trip to our Aunt's house in Portland and she didn't dig it, to say the least.

"No," I said flatly. This was me and my women helping other women kick, I told myself. "I just mean it seems like all she does is support those dudes and make muffins. Is that what she wants? Maybe she is just caught in society's trap and she can figure out what really makes her happy."

She scowled at me. "So she can't like baking? Being in love can't make you happy? That's rude, Mallory. Who are you to judge her? Or assume you know what she wants or all the things she does? You think you're so much better because you listened to a stupid french audio book from decades ago?" She was aggressive and mindful in her words. I had hit a nerve and the book now felt heavy in my lap. Kim didn't let up.

"You're so quick to come to the aid of your friends, all those girls who you think deserve apologies, but it's completely ok to treat some girls like crap. Girls who don't live up to your ideals," she spat to me as we neared Emily's house. I had fully pissed her off, which I hadn't done in years. I wasn't even sure if she was talking about Emily anymore. "You are not giving her that book. No way."

I should have acquiesced, but I chose a different route.

"What?! I most certainly am! This cost $29," I huffed, spotting Emily house at the end of a long dirt road. She had a point, but I was too cheap to admit it. I gripped on to the wrapping.

"Give that to me!" She said incensed, and turned her whole body and jabbed toward my lap as I pulled the book away. In her anger she let go of the wheel and the car veered toward the left.

"Kim, stop! Watch out, we're going off the road," I hollered, still keeping the gift away from her. She ignored me and then after just a few seconds we heard BAM! A big bump and a loud groan.

Kim slammed on the brakes. "Holy fuck!" I yelled as we both slammed forward from the abrupt stop. She put the car in park and I scurried to the front of the car to see Embry Call on the ground, awash in headlights and run over.

Kim looked apologetic, but not alarmed. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Embry. I was arguing with my sister and I got distracted," she said like she got mustard on his jacket or something.

"Kim!" I screamed. We need to call 911! Embry, can you hear me?" I knelt close to him on the ground, nearly shaking.

He wiggled around a bit, then got up as if he just stumbled on some cracked pavement. "It's cool, Kim" he said, cracking his arms as he stretched.

"What?" I said in a breath, slowly moving up to a stand. "Embry, she was going like 30 miles per hour. How are you not...? I mean you could have a concussion if nothing else. You really need to see a doctor."

"I'm fine, Mal. She didn't hit me. I jumped out of the way and tripped. What were you guys arguing about anyway?" he said playfully.

I definitely heard a thud. Wasn't that his body? Or maybe it was just him hitting the ground. How did he know we were arguing? I was fully confused.

We were about 50 feet from Emily's house. Paul and Jared came out and walked over as Embry continued to shake off, as he noticed his gift of a Mr. Coffee was laying crushed on the ground.

"You ok, baby?" Called a concerned Jared out to Kim.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking, sweetheart," Embry replied, annoyed and feeling neglected. Jared frowned at him as he moved over to encircle Kim with his body.

"I'm fine, Jared," she said, kissing her arms wrapped around her, "Mallory was just distracting me…" she was irritated. I noticed Paul eyeing me to my left, but I moved closer to Embry, as I was apparently the only person concerned about him.

"Are you really okay, Embry? I can drive you to the clinic right now." He smiled at me sweetly and continued to shrug it off and then walked into the house with his broken gift. Kim and Jared got into the Pontiac and drove it up closer to the house. That left me and Paul who could tell I was thoroughly freaked out by Embry's miraculous recovery.

"He's like rubber, he's fine, Mallory," he tried to assure me.

"I swear we ran over him, Paul. There's no way he'd be totally fine."

He looked at me in the moonlight and smoothed over some hair that was crowding my face. His hands felt warm and made my heart gooey. Maybe I was being unfair. As we walked down the dirt road and passed the Pontiac I left the wrapped book inside the car.

Inside Emily's house there was no evidence that Kim ran over Embry besides the crushed Mr. Coffee. He sat on a sofa unscathed drinking a beer and chatting with Quil, Jacob and Seth about video games. Kim sat cross legged on a loveseat with Jared, preoccupied and miffed. There were some other women there that I don't know. I guess she did have other friends besides teenage boys.

Emily looked beautiful. She wore red lipstick and a blue dress, her hair pulled back. She seemed completely unashamed of the visible scars that defined her face. She was oddly powerful in her confidence, more than what I had pegged her to be. Maybe I was unfairly judging her. She hung onto Sam's back, her head in the nook of his neck. They spotted me as I walked in with Paul.

"Hey Mallory!" She said in a chipper voice. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Happy birthday, Emily. Thanks for extending the invitation,"

"Oh, of course. Paul can't stop talking about you." I looked over at Paul who was hardly one to gush. He didn't blush at Emily's words, but instead pulled the label off his beer he just picked up.

"I don't think we've met yet. I'm Sam," boomed the man-boy. He was kind and fatherly if anything. After a while she slid off to the kitchen and I watched as she pulled a supermarket cake out of the fridge. She didn't slave away the afternoon baking a perfect homemade confection, but would she be less to me if she had? I chewed my cud feeling guilty about my earlier exchange with Kim. As she and Sam placed candles in the cake, I slipped out of the house and onto the porch. Paul followed me.

"You feeling ok, Mal?" he asked. I took a deep breath.

"I should be asking you," I said, "I mean after yesterday and everything,"

"I'm feeling fine," he assuaged.

"Really? I mean that was pretty intense Paul. Candance and then seeing your mom after all those years. How she kept her house. And then what you told me in the car… about you and me… and the soulmates thing…"

He exhaled. "I tried to make peace with Candace. Seeing Shelly and the house was odd, and honestly, I am not totally sure how I feel about it. I'm not angry or sad. I think I just need more time to process it all," he said. That seemed reasonable.

"And about you. I feel perfectly fine. More than fine about you, Mallory," He inched closer to me, radiating an intense heat.

"But you didn't answer my question. Are you ok?" He asked.

"Um. I got into a fight with Kim. I was being an asshole."

"You should apologize," he smirked. He then cupped my face, nearly covering it with his large warm hand. I gulped.

"I'm not ready for you to kiss me...on the lips, if that's what you want to do," I said boldly, but still afraid. Every wall I had ever put up around Paul was slowly being dismantled over the past few weeks, but I still couldn't fully let go.

He stood back.

"Forehead?"

I nodded. He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulled me close and kissed my forehead. It was intensely overwhelming and soothing.

"What is that?" I said, nearly drunk off the permeation. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he wanted to. He just rubbed my back as I melted into him.

Paul was gentle and tender on the porch. Emily was confident and flexible and Kim was assertive and cognizant.

If I was sure of anything at that moment it was that things aren't always as they appear to be and people could surprise you.