your head injury vision thing. Seriously, dude, you don’t remember that at all?”
I explain that I don’t. It’s true. Sitting up and looking closely at Clyde, there’s nothing remotely familiar about him. And what’s odd about it is that he’s an instantly memorable character. Someone you would never forget. Ever.
Slapping me on the back, Clyde says, “Concussions. Can’t be good, dude.”
We go to Watson’s, this ice-cream parlor/soda fountain place that’s supposed to be like something in the 1950s. Vauxhall shares a float with me. The two of us like the dogs in that Disney cartoon drinking from the same frosty mug. She laughs so loudly that it startles me when she does. We laugh so much that by the time we say bye to Clyde and Ambrosia, my sides are aching and my throat is dry.
I drive to Wash Park and we walk around the lake. There are other people out even though the moon has vanished. Near the playground we sit on a bench and Vauxhall asks me about why she was in my vision. She says, “Tell me why you think it was me?”
“Destiny? Fate?”
“You believe in those things?”
Ducks spin lazily in the lake. Bats dart above us. Cars backfire.
“Not really. You?”
Vaux mumbles something. Her face smooth like it’s under filigree.
She asks me if I’m disappointed.
“With?”
“Me. Two years you’ve been waiting and here I am. Me, not your dream girl.”
“You’re even more amazing than I imagined.”
“And?”
I shrug. “What else?”
She reads my sincerity, smiles. “Nothing. Give me a hug.”
And what’s crazy is that all we do is hug.
It’s brief, but just having Vauxhall’s body that close to mine is exhilarating. Feeling the warmth of her, the shape of her, pressed against most of me, I never want the moment to end.
Vauxhall says, “It’s so private. The most private thing.”
I realize she’s talking about the other guys. All the other guys.
“You love any of them?” I ask.
Vauxhall shakes her head. “In some way. That bad?”
“No. I don’t-”
“It’s the stories inside them. Each and every one has something hidden, something like a tumor inside them that’s eating them alive only they don’t know it. Me, I find that tumor, I bring it to light. I change their lives. And these guys, most of them just melt into nothing. They become children again.”
“And the Buzz. The high.”
“Right.” Vauxhall smiles and closes her eyes briefly. “The high.”
“If you didn’t have the high. Would you…?”
“-”
I clear my throat. “I don’t want to end up eighty by the time I’m thirty-five. I don’t want someone to be changing my diaper. I want to remember all this.”
Vauxhall looks at me, her bottom lip trembles slightly like she’s going to say something heavy but then she swallows that back down and says, instead, “Are you asking me to stop?”
I shrug. “I’m just telling you what I’m doing.”
“I’m happy for you, Ade. Really happy.”
“But you’re not going to…?”
Vauxhall looks like she’s holding back tears. Her face is all scrunched the way a dam scrunches into a valley to hold back a river. She shakes her head. Says, “I’m not sure I’m ready. I want to be. Really want to be. But-”
“Vaux, those guys, you ever think that maybe what you tell them they don’t really want to know? You ever think that stuff’s hidden for a reason?”
Vaux shakes her head. “Not at all.”
“And how about the fact that maybe they don’t care about what you tell them? Maybe they’re just happy to get laid? Maybe they just want to grab your tits and… I know it’s harsh, but maybe they-”
“You haven’t seen their eyes,” Vaux interrupts.
“Okay. You’re right.”
Vaux, “Ade, it’s beautiful. Not about the sex. Or the high.”
I say, “I believe you.”
But I don’t believe her. I know her too well already.
Vaux hugs me. Holds me tight to her, so tight I can almost feel her heart beating through the cacophony of mine. And then I go in to kiss her and she turns away biting her lip and shaking her head. She says, “I want things to be different with you, Ade. I don’t want the same thing.”
FIVE
We sit in silence.
Far away a car backfires or someone is shot.
I turn to Vaux and put a hand on her knee. It’s gutsy but it feels right.
She doesn’t pull away.
I say, “I know that I love you.”
Vaux’s eyes don’t widen. Her lips don’t quiver. Her cheeks do flush, though. She says, “I don’t know what I can say to that, Ade.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want to say it.”
“Two years, huh?”
“Two.”
“And you’re sure I’m the girl. I mean you’ve never been mistaken before.”
“I’m sure.”
A tear forms in the crease of Vauxhall’s left eye. Just a bubble at first, but it spills over and down her cheek quickly. Just glides down. And I want to reach up and wipe it off with the softest part of my hand, but I don’t.
She lets the tear go. Says, “You don’t know how hard it is for me. To be me.”
“-”
Vaux clears her throat. More tears fall. “Do you want to know why I transferred here? Why I came to Mantlo?”
I ask, “Not for film?”
“Not just for film.”
Vaux stops there and cries. Openly. Tears pour down her face and spot her shirt and I sit watching, starting into her eyes. My hand still on her knee, I squeeze it. Vaux turns away. Wipes her face with the back of her hand and laughs.
Vaux says, “You won’t believe it, but I came here to quit.”
“Quit?”
“Like you did. Cold turkey. Abstinence. Hasn’t really worked, though.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the-”
“You saw me at the party,” Vauxhall says. “I’m weak.”
“You’re not. Not at all.”
Vaux smiles, tears bending around her cheeks. “That’s sweet, but I am. I thought when I came to Mantlo that things would be different. Different people. Different scene. The pressure wouldn’t be there, you know? But it’s already started. I can just feel myself slipping back…”
“-”
