Page 26 of The Marigold Trail
“ T hey left us without a ride?” I say, shamelessly considering my own feelings over this predicament.
My cheek muscles hurt from all the grinning I’ve been doing and I feel like I’ll never come down from this skate high. I massage the lingering cheek ache as we go back inside the building and Ben returns our skates.
I’m hanging on to the fresh memory of us together on the rink floor. Those actions—his actions felt real, almost purposeful. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. And even though it was likely a tease, meant only to keep things light and playful, I can’t get it out of my head. The buzzing aftereffect of what it must feel like to walk on clouds fills me despite the new need to draw up some best friend and her boyfriend ‘wanted’ posters.
I trail after Ben who leads me to a booth instead of a table this time. We sit at the back wall where only the food court separates us from the arcade games. Thanks to the disappearance of Diana and Tyler, the night has gone from unexpectedly perfect to, dare I say, awkward.
At this point, we’ve nonverbally decided to sit and wait until Tyler and Diana come back with the car or until the rink closes—whichever comes first. The music sounds muffled outside of the main rink as we sit in silence and I’m able to hear my own thoughts a little too well. Is Tyler and Diana’s departure the reason he wanted to quit skating, or was he over having to carry me around the rink?
Ben gets up, heaving a strong sigh, leaving me to wait by myself. He must be so over this double date when his whole objective’s been rattled. He was here for “them,” not “us.” I’d known that from the start.
He’s not gone long and returns with two sodas, looking as if he’d given himself a little pep talk to pull himself out of his own mood on the walk back over.
Slurping into my wide straw, I cast a look at Ben who’s like a watchdog guarding the front entrance with his eyes. It’s a chance for me to admire his facial features and dewy skin that shines like clay. His chocolate brown eyes look deep and sincere as he switches his expression to an anxious one. Concern may be hovering over his disposition like an angry storm cloud but he still manages to look square and strong despite the fact that he’s troubled—not to mention ten years younger than I am used to.
Ben catches me staring a few seconds too long, triggering him to lift his eyebrows with a knowing look and a heckling smile. I fold my arms across my chest feeling a flush in my cheeks and look to my side where the neon-lit arcade games stand. He can play this game of catch and release all he wants. I really didn’t need him to fall for me. I had years of experience as his non-romantic partner. He was the confusing one, pulling me against his chest and acting all warm and gooey intermittently throughout the night, not expecting me to adore that. He can think and do as he pleases, and though I don’t want to play this game, I can play it. I had more to attain here than a love interest. I just needed him to be friends with me.
“I still can’t believe Diana would leave with Ty. I mean it’s been three days.” Ben cuts the silence. He must want my attention though it’s lost on the desk manager overfilling a soda cup and spraying clear carbonated liquid all over his hand. I turn back to face Ben in the booth seat across from me.
“Why would she go along with something like that? What if she goes off and does something stupid?” he says. “Something she’ll regret.”
“What makes you think she’ll do something stupid?” I ask.
“Because Tyler’s stupid,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
“You’re not wrong.” I smile, thinking of all the stupid things Tyler has done over the last week and in all the years I’ve known him. “Your sister’s smart though. She’s capable of handling herself. I’m sure she’ll make the right decisions.” I lay both hands flat on the table in front of me, signaling some heavy “trust me” body language.
“How can you be so sure?” he says. We sit in silence for a few short seconds. “She only has me to protect her. I’m with her on her date and I can’t even do that. How is she going to know who’ll stay and who won’t?”
The way he says it makes me sense there’s more to this than I can comprehend. Though his father in this universe passed away in ‘85 and Ben has taken care of the family ever since, it’s not like his father left them.
We had a similar experience growing up with both of our father’s passing. Though I was much younger when my father passed and I recall spending a lot of time comforting Diana after her father passed. He declined quickly after his last season in the NBA, but that wasn’t the case here in Non-80s-Land. Ben’s grandfather—who would be his father in this universe—would have passed within the last couple of years. But Ben shouldn’t be concerned or feel the need to take on the overprotective father position when it comes to Tyler. I’d known Tyler long enough to know that his irresponsible behavior wouldn’t end up hurting Diana. If only I could convey that to him and help him overcome the trust issue he seems to have with Tyler. Ben knew Tyler better than any of us which gave him the right not to trust him but I knew the future. Tyler and Diana would date for a short year and then amicably part ways. There really wasn’t much to worry about.
I don’t know how to respond, so I reach for his arm across the table.
“Diana’s full of hope and potential and she knows it. Tyler’s just a short-term fling. I promise. You can relax.”
“That’s what scares me.”
“A short-term fling? Why?” I ask.
“It might ruin our friendship,” he says, letting my hand rest on his arm without a care.
“It will all work out.”
“What makes you so confident?” He looks down at my arm holding onto his, with a serious face that says he’s confiding in me.
“I’ve seen the future,” I say with a smirk, knowing the truth might make for a nice sarcastic sounding remark that will hopefully put a smile on his face, even if it’s just for a quick second.
“Atta, seriously,” he says, with a heated half-smile. He wants an honest response, not a sarcastic sounding one.
“We used to talk about our future spouses growing up, you know as all girls do. If I remember correctly, Diana wanted someone that makes good banana bread—like really good banana bread,” I say, raising evil eyebrows so that they’re super high-arching. “Our interests back then were based on what kind of food could be provided,” I finish.
I was never good at serious conversations. I always needed a little humor to get me through them. I wait for Ben to slip a smile but he doesn’t, so I continue. “Tyler can’t make banana bread can he?” I ask. This gets a smile.
“No, Tyler can barely get his Fruit Roll-Ups unraveled.”
“Well, good. She’ll never accept a proposal then. Plus, she wanted someone hardworking, that wants a lot of kids. That isn’t Tyler. She’s just having some fun right now. Even though Tyler looks like he could ruin her, he won’t. She won’t let him,” I say.
Ben nods, as if working through some deep thoughts.
“So what did you want?” he asks, catching me off guard with a question like that.
“Want what?” Is he asking what I think he’s asking? For my preferences in a man?
“What kind of guy do you want to end up with?” he answers.
I didn’t expect those words to ever come out of him.
“Someone who I see as more than a friend,” I say with impertinence.
My glib remark is met with an eyeroll.
“Well, obviously,” he interjects.
“I think I would’ve said something like he must be handsome and super into me. Someone who’d do anything for me and I’d do anything for him,” I say, feeling more comfortable answering the question as if I was recollecting childhood memories. Though my answer still applies. I’d felt that way for as long as I can remember. “I’m sure I also said something like he’ll give me Tootsie Rolls every day since I was young and most of the interest came from what kind of food a boy could offer.”
“A man with Tootsie Rolls,” he says as neon spotlights once again sprinkle over the maroon and blue paint-splattered table. Those same lights travel back to the rink, highlighting the mix of young and old skaters continuing their cult-like behavior. Diana and Tyler are still nowhere to be seen.
“Have you found a good Tootsie Roll-supplying prospect?” he says looking up through his dark lashes, rubbing his knuckle with his other hand.
“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” I say, taking a long sip of the cream soda in front of me. I suddenly feel incredibly thirsty. “I wouldn’t be monitoring Diana and Ty with you on this quote, unquote ‘double date’ if I had someone else to be with.” I cringe at my use of “quote, unquote.” After it came out, I realized that might give away my feelings about how seriously I want this to be a date.
My thoughts go back to my last date prospect, Kenny, who turned out to be a real sociopath. I suppose if I did have another prospect, I’d still spend my evening with Ben.
“I’m glad you’re here,” is his response. “The look on your face makes me think you’ve got someone on your mind. Who would you rather be on this date with, Atta?”
I don’t have an answer for him. No one else, if I’m being honest. I shake my head instead of choosing to answer.
“You’re not going to answer?” He looks as if he’s ready to pester me for the next two hours.
“Are you ever going to answer my question? Why did you quit basketball your senior year?” I make it a point to turn the tables and switch the subject.
He presses both hands into the table’s flat surface and pushes off the table to stand up. His eyes, dark chocolate in the dim light, emit defeat. He reaches out for my hand. I take it and walk with him and, to my surprise, he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“The other night, when you asked me that question, I answered it. I just left out all the details.” He pulls me toward the arcade.
“That much I figured,” I say shyly, aware that he still has my hand and I don’t quite know what message he’s trying to send. False hope? Standard of friendship in the eighties? Or maybe Good Samaritan trying to lead the blind? It was definitely the latter—he continues to pull me by the arm, his long strides hard to keep up with. “You said you confided in someone the other night. Who was it?”
He pauses in front of the car simulator in the middle of the arcade then hesitates, but his hand continues to hold mine. I take inventory of the arcade. There’s no one else in the area.
“Tyler’s dad,” he says. I turn, giving him my full attention. He seems conflicted.
“Tyler’s dad is the guy you were talking about the other night?” I ask. “The person who asks too many questions?”
He nods.
I repeat this information a few times in my head. Why?
“Tyler had raced bikes with me a few times over the years and his dad asked me to be more present in Tyler’s life recently. He thought Tyler could use a positive influence or something. Heaven knows why,” he says sarcastically. “When I’d come over, Tyler’s dad kept asking me questions. The man is intimidating, so eventually I opened up.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Homelife, my motivations, why I wanted to quit basketball. I was surprised when he understood. It made it easy to trust him,” he says. “He has been there for me over the last few months.” He lets go of my hand and sits down at the wheel of a racing game. I mirror his actions and sit in the car seat next to him.
“I’ve thought about it and I figure, since confiding in him’s been a good thing for me, I can share my thoughts when it feels like the right time. You’re asking just as many questions and it’s been nagging at me. Why are you doing it?”
“Because I have many of them,” I say, grabbing the racing wheel and watching as the very two-dimensional car graphic runs red and orange cars past my screen.
“You want to know why I quit basketball?”
“Yes,” I say softly, patiently.
“When my father passed last year it became a strain on my family financially.” We both pause at the wheel. I wait intently for him to continue. “After the concert with Corky, Mom scolded me for using money we didn’t have to drive to Kansas City and I ultimately decided to just quit so I could focus on working.” He tilts his head back looking toward the ceiling as if he’s reflecting on his decision.
“I love to play, but there comes a point when trying to support your family becomes more important. Seeing my grandma and mom so desperate for my help and disappointed that I wasn’t taking their situation seriously made me rethink what I should be doing.”
He looks at me, almost as if to assess my reaction. I remain quiet, contemplating whether or not his reasoning for quitting basketball was the same as it was back in Non-80s-Land. Shortly after his father passed he quit basketball. But his family wasn’t short on money at the time, being that his father’s NBA career was successful enough to keep his mom and grandmother stable for years to come. The circumstances he was facing here in this universe were as unexpected as his explanation.
“It’s a pretty lame excuse, isn’t it?” He looks over at me. At this revelation, I’m more comfortable staring at the race on the screen while processing his words.
“You’re left to support your family on your own?” I ask, a bit stunned at his confession.
“Not on my own. Robyn works as many night shifts as she can, but I’m expected to help. It’s not that unreasonable of a request really, especially after skipping school and having my mom discover the amount Corky and I had spent at the concert."
“I’m sorry, Ben. Diana’s never told me any of this,” I say.
“She doesn’t know."
“But you said Tyler’s dad encouraged you to quit?” I ask.
“He didn’t encourage me to quit but he did give me a job opportunity. He has friends who need their cars and bikes detailed and fixed. He’s got a lot of work set up for me that can easily be done after school.” He spins the racing wheel with both hands like he wishes to race the game but needs to finish telling his story.
“It won’t take away from school and trying to graduate.”
“I’m glad he’s able to support you. Do you still talk to Ty’s dad?” I smile and look up at him.
“Yeah.” He perks up a bit at my question. “He’s actually helping me prepare for college as well. When he offered me the job I told him what I had planned for my future. He’s got me mapping out the next few years so that it’ll work out for me. The man’s a rigid planner and has his crap together. I study at his house every day after working a few hours in his garage.”
“I wish you would have told me sooner. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you to come back from Kansas City and be told that you’re the man of the house now and responsible for the whole family. You’re barely eighteen.” I say it keeping my eyes locked on his, so that he can feel the sincerity of my words. “But I’m proud of you. You’ve had to give up a lot in just the last few weeks. If there was a way I could lighten your load for you I would.” My eyes stay locked on his a few seconds too long. My words “I’m proud of you” strike feelings that spread all over his face.
He leans in closer, until I feel a zing of awareness as he enters my seat space. The car on the game screen zooms past background scenery with a whining rocket-powered VROOM as Ben’s eyes catch on my lips, falling the way I’d fallen for him, like snowflakes that meet a bed of snow, slow and purposeful with a perfect landing. His eyes have found the perfect landing.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, as a rebellious grin spreads over his face.
I lean in as his hand slides around my neck. My stomach flips and everything inside takes a free fall as he coasts closer toward me, pulling me in toward his face for a second that feels like forever—until his lips brush up against mine. His kiss is soft and his lips are much bigger than mine, like firm juicy rosebuds curved into a smile. They beg me to kiss him back.
I feel reckless and my whole heart beats with profound power. He doesn’t stop, so I continue kissing him back, matching his movements with my hands still at the wheel. My grip on the race car wheel tightens. He kisses me so sweetly and deeply, as if we’re only capable of sharing the type of meaningful kiss that only deep-rooted lifelong friends could have.