Rocket Car

Chapter 7

Rocket Car

"Why do you hate me?"

The question takes me off guard. Who the hell just asks that? Besides, I never hated him. How could I? Well, now that I think about it, I have blamed him for the last ten years of heartache and misery. I guess… I have no idea what to say. Where the hell are Davis and the kid, anyway? They've been gone all day. The sun is about to set over the waters and we haven't caught a single thing besides memories.

I sigh. "I don't," I admit.

"Then where have you been all this time? Where did you go? Why haven't you talked to me?" he asks. It's weird to hear his voice sound that demanding. He'd only spoken to me like that twice before, and those were not good memories. Davis is a real jackass, leaving me alone with this guy.

"Does it matter? You're engaged, right?" I question. I wince at the biting tone in my own voice.

"Yeah, because you were absent the last eight years of my life."

I hear him huff. From my peripheral I see that he's about to cast out again but stops midway. I watch as he begins to disassemble his pole. Another irritated sigh comes from him as he drops the pole into the shallow water.

"Look, I don't know what happened between us that made you hate me so much. I'm sorry, alright? I can tell you're judging me. You always judge everyone. You think I've moved on or something, huh? Well you don't move on from love, alright? The girl that gave me Edgar was a mistake. I never cared for her half as much as I did for you. But this girl I'm with now? I care for her just as much as I care for you."

"You mean cared."

"No, I mean care. Because you know something Kristy? Love doesn't just end. There's different kinds of love but it doesn't end. We spent five years together, and they were really good years, some of the best of my life. And I love you for that. That's not going to change."

Now I'm beyond annoyed, beyond irritated, and moving straight into furious. I've always reacted to these kinds of badly-timed declarations this way. Sometimes it seems like the only emotion I can properly express is anger, which is pretty pathetic for someone in their late-twenties. I refuse to look at him. My eyes stay focused on the river.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I demand.

"Because you didn't let me tell you eight years ago? Or five years ago? Or yesterday?" he says, his voice rising a tad. Then, he sighs for a third time and picks his pole up from the water. His voice is much softer when he speaks again, "I'm… I'm not trying to make you feel something if you don't. I'm not trying to change anything. I'm going to marry the girl I'm with now, and she's going to be an amazing wife and a great mother to Edgar and whatever other kids we have. But I'm still going to worry about you when I don't hear from you. I'm still going to pray for you at night. I'm still going to think about you on your birthday, on April 2nd, on August 20th. When I play catch with Edgar I think about when we played catch. That doesn't change – it's never going to change. And I'm okay with that. I just wish you would be okay with that, too. We impacted each other's lives in a way no one else ever could. Isn't that pretty cool?"

Isn't that pretty cool? Yeah, I guess it is.

I can tell he's slightly embarrassed, well aware he's ranted beyond his normal time. The backwards Mariners cap on his head is soon flipped around and he now covers his face with it. I say nothing and focus on reeling in my line. Then I carefully ensure the lure is hooked on one of the line guides.

It's my turn. "I'm sorry," I say. It seems to catch his attention as he slides the cap off of his face and peers at me with one eye. "I didn't know what I wanted back then. I still don't. You wouldn't be happy."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

That's the end of our conversation. Edgar and Davis are back, as revealed to us by the shrill cry of, "Daddy!" Little Edgar latches onto his dad's bad at such a velocity it nearly sends him into the drink. Davis isn't far behind, but he stops himself from entering the water.

He smiles and says, "Sorry about the wait. He wanted to play on the swings. My arms are tired."

Willie laughs; it's a sound I've definitely missed. He says, "Yeah he'll stay on those all day if you aren't careful. Hey, did you still want to crash like usual despite your extra cargo?"

The thumb he jabs in my direction means I'm that extra cargo. For a brief moment Davis looks at me before he answers, "If she wants to join us, sure. Otherwise we can just take her home."

Ten minutes later and I find myself in the back of an old pickup truck as it weaves down back roads through farms generations old. I'm not sure why I agreed to go along. I guess being alone at home doesn't sound very intriguing. There's still plenty of time until I start my new job, might as well enjoy it. I just hope Willie's future wife isn't upset that's bringing an ex-girlfriend home for a night.

Finally we arrive at a house I spent much of my youth at. The driveway leads right to the large shop that was always full of equipment that needed to be worked on. There's a batting net and mock baseball field still carved into the large lawn. Behind it are acres upon acres of apple trees. The house itself is a modest rambler, fitting for a small family with big dreams.

It's nighttime when we get there. The city is far enough away that the stars are clear to see. The moon is absent so they're shine is brighter than ever. I want to stay in the bed of that truck all night and just stargaze, but Davis nudges me to move. Edgar has already bolted inside and Willie isn't far behind.

I'm the last to enter. A wave of nostalgia hits me like never before. Nothing has changed. Even after the house went from one generation to the next, it had remained the same. The only new object was the large TV plastered on the wall above the fireplace. It's already on, playing tonight's baseball game.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Look at what dog you rescued today!"

Before I can respond or even move, I'm engulfed in an embrace that's much too strong for my liking. I can't even move to return it since he's trapped my arms. He leans back and I'm coming off the ground. When he lets go, I plop back down the few inches to the Earth. Then he ruffles my hair, as though I'm some punk kid that he's picking on.

"What're you doing here, Kiki?"

He's the only one that gets away with calling me that. I swat his hand away and joke, "I'm homeless."

"No!" he cries out in disbelief. The grin on his face is just what I'd expect from an older brother. "I always thought you'd marry some old rich guy and make off with his money!"

"Jeez give her some room to breathe, Barry," Willie says as he physically pushes us apart.

"Wow, still don't like me flirting with her, huh?"

"f**k off."

July 1st, 2003

It's a long bike ride to the movie theater, considering the drive is already forty-five minutes. They're not calling it a "date" just yet, but they do want to spend some time alone together. Neither set of parents want or have the time to drive them that far, so Willie just calls in a favor from his older brother.

The Waechters are new to town. Willie's mother just moved back to her childhood home after being gone for many years and their dad was an outsider. Kids around town are just learning their faces. Kristy's certainly heard about his older brother, and she's probably seen him in passing several times. In a small town, everyone knows everyone. So she isn't sure how to react when she sees a tall high schooler step out of a car just outside her house.

Then Willie steps out and she's a bit more confident. They look nothing alike. Compared to the light haired, freckle faced, and very short Willie, his brother is a foot taller and a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. His hair is covered by a ball cap but based on the hair growing on his face it's a darker brown.

Willie leads her from her doorstep to his brother's car. There, the older of the two opens the door of the front passenger seat. Willie ignores him and opens the door for the backseat.

"The hell are you doing? Ladies get front seat always," he chastised.

Willie's cheeks turned red in an instant. "And have her sit next to you? No way."

"What? I'm not going to do anything. I don't even know her name," the older brother said, his voice teetering on rude.

"It's Kristy," she told him.

"Kiki?" he said aloud, convinced that's what he heard.

From that moment on, she always rode in the backseat if he was driving.

June 10th, 2005

It was past midnight, so he entered the house as quietly as he could. Considering how insanely drunk he was, it was a miracle he didn't wake anyone up. Not that it mattered; his parents had dipped out for their anniversary the morning before, so just his little brother (and maybe his girlfriend) would be waiting inside.

A pair of shoes at the doorway made him tumble and he cursed loudly when he smashed his face into the wall. Dizzy, he somehow managed to stand back up instead of just passing out on the floor like he wanted to. Besides, the TV was in the family room and it was never on in that house past ten o'clock.

Unable to get fully back to his feet, he crawled until he reached the couch. He lifted himself off the ground using the back of the couch and peered over to see who might be up at this time at night. Laying on the couch, clutching a throw pillow like it was the meaning of life, tears threatening to fall, was his little brother's girlfriend of nearly two years.

Never one to let a girl cry all alone, he hoisted himself up and asked, "'S goin' on?" There's no answer. Instead she began to shake, unable to control her emotions any longer. Somehow, he successfully maneuvered himself around to the front of the couch, all the while repeating, "Hey, hey, hey! Don't cry! It's okay, it's okay!"

He lifted her up, forcing her to no longer lay down. In an unsophisticated manner only he was capable of, he plopped down on the couch and yanked her into a tight embrace. No doubt he smelt horrible of alcohol and sweat, considering he'd done nothing other than pound beers for the past week. Still, he tried to be as comforting as he could, even going so far as petting her hair and back to keep her calm.

"Tell me why I gotta beat up my lil' bro."

May 18th, 2007

"You're good with kids. My brother's a lucky guy. You'll be a great mother."

She didn't take it as a compliment. Nothing ever is coming from him, since she never knows if he's serious or not. Sometimes she thinks it's just because he's jealous of what they have, since he can't seem to make anyone happy. There's been a few times where she's admitted that he's pretty cute, and all things considered he's actually a really nice guy. Too bad he spends so much effort giving off an air of apathy. Otherwise, he might actually make a girl happier for longer than just a night.

As she packed up the last of equipment left behind by the kids, she decided to glance up at him. There's something about the look in his eyes that appeared serious. She ignored it. The last bat inside the overstuffed Mizuno bag, she finally stood to leave. As she walked past him, he had the audacity to slap her butt. That stopped her. He asked, "What's up? No jokes today? Wishing I'd be the dad instead of him, aren't you?"

"Oh, so it wasn't a compliment? It was just a joke?" she asked. Her voice is harsh enough that she's sure the point is made. Davis heard the slap and saw the look on Kristy's face, and he was tempted to come interrupt the two when he heard her speak. Of course, she had it under control.

The never-ending grin dropped into a frown. "What? No, I… well, you're only seventeen. You shouldn't be thinking about kids and stuff. But, if my brother does start a family – someday, anyway, not right now… I guess you'd be okay."

There aren't any words from her after that. Children? That was well beyond anything she had planned.

July 21st, 2010

"You finally told him no, didn't you?"

Everyone in their group turned to eye her after that. It was the last time the entire gang from high school reunited since graduating. Willie was one step closer to achieving his dream of playing professional baseball. He'd been drafted (although very late in the draft) by the team he'd dreamed of playing on since he was a toddler. It was his debut in the Rookie league and he was playing like absolute garbage.

Before the game he'd trotted over to the third baseline seats and called out to her; she'd complied and went to visit. They hadn't seen each other properly since starting college – nearly three years of separation. Somehow, he'd remained completely committed to her, despite the rumors that their group had passed around. She? Well, when he asked her again to marry him, this time he got a solid answer.

They watched as he swung through a ball in the dirt, striking out. It made her tense to see him fail so horribly at something he appeared born to do.

An arm snaked around her and he whispered into her ear, "Hey. Relax. If he sucks it's his fault, not yours. He shouldn't have asked you before the game. He'd probably suck even more if you'd have said yes, right?"

He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. They'd gone to so many of Willie's games together they'd often been confused as a couple. Despite his relentless teasing, he'd been good to hear. It was a shame that he couldn't show his softer side to other girls. Maybe if she'd met him any other way, she would've been with him instead. It wasn't that she was in love with him or anything like that. He was simply stable; he was real, grounded, and sincere when it mattered the most. Exactly what she knew she needed in a husband.

Exactly the opposite of the boy that chased his dreams on the baseball field.