Leaving Paradise

Page 13

I didn't have the heart to tell her a pretty dress can't erase the ugly scars hiding underneath.
We head over to the Paradise County Fairgrounds. They've transformed the fairgrounds into an amusement park, complete with a Ferris wheel and dunking booth.
The Ladies' Auxiliary sponsors the festival each year. Usually the entire town attends.
The food pavilion is covered in twinkling lights, reminding me of Christmas.
Mom puts down the brownies she made on the pot-luck table, then scans the crowd. "Look, there's Lou," she says, pointing.
Sitting next to him is his mother, my boss. "Should we go say hi?" I ask.
Mom shrugs. "It would be nice."
When we reach the table, Mr. Reynolds stands up and smiles. "Linda, glad you made it. Hi, Maggie."
"Hi, Mr. Reynolds. Hi, Mrs. Reynolds."
Mr. Reynolds leans close and whispers in my ear, "We're not at the diner. You can call me Lou."
"That'd be weird," I say. Calling Mom's boss by his first name is just too ... I don't know ... familiar.
"Okay, well, when you don't feel weird about it give it a try.
Mom sits next to her boss and I walk around the table and plop down next to Mrs. Reynolds.
"Mrs. Reynolds, it was so generous of you to give my daughter a job," Mom says. "As I told you on the phone, I'm very grateful."
"I'm the grateful one," Mrs. Reynolds says. "We've had a productive first week. Haven't we, Margaret?"
My fingernails still have dirt under them that I haven't been able to scrape out. "Mrs. Reynolds is an expert on daffodils, Mom."
"When you get back from Spain they'll be up and blooming," Mrs. Reynolds says.
I smile, thinking about leaving for Spain. It's about the only thing making me smile lately.
Mrs. Reynolds looks longingly at the buffet table. "I'm famished," she says. "How about we take a gander at the food and see if there's anything worthwhile."
"Mom, don't stuff yourself," Mr. Reynolds says over the loud dance music the band just started to play on the makeshift stage in front of the Fun House.
Mrs. Reynolds rolls her eyes. "My son thinks I'm a child."
"Mom, you know what the--" Mr. Reynolds' gruff voice chimes in.
Mrs. Reynolds silences her son with a single stare. Mom looks kind of nervous and I feel the same way. I don't want to get involved in this. It's clearly out of my jurisdiction as companion.
Mr. Reynolds turns to my mom. "Linda, how about showing the teens some old dance moves?"
Wow, that came out of left field. Mom never dances. She and my dad would come to the festival year after year and I never once saw them sway to the music, let alone dance.
"I'd love to," Mom says. "Maggie, you don't mind, do you?
When I shake my head, she takes Mr. Reynolds' outstretched hand and he leads her away from the food pavilion.
I'm sitting here with my eyes wide open. What just happened? Did my mom accept a dance with her boss? Isn't that illegal?
I can see the dance floor from where I'm sitting. Right away, Mom is wiggling her body and moving around like a teenager. I scan the fairgrounds to see if anyone else is paying attention. Sure enough, a group of kids from school are watching her.
I want to die.
Why would Mom want to dance in the first place? She's making a spectacle of herself, jumping around as if she doesn't care people are staring. Isn't it bad enough people stare at me?
"Margaret, I'm ready to load up my plate now that my son who thinks he's a doctor is out of my hair. Will you help me?"
I tear my gaze away from the dancing queen. "Uh, yeah, sure."
Mrs. Reynolds leans on her cane as we head to the food line. I hold her plate and pile food on as she points to various dishes. The old lady is totally oblivious to the scene on the dance floor.
"What do you keep staring at?" Mrs. Reynolds asks.
"Nothing."
"That nothing's getting a lot of attention."
I make a harrumph and move down the line. But when I get to Mrs. Becker's famous Spaghetti Spectacular, I freeze and wonder if Leah and Caleb are here.
"This one looks good," Mrs. Reynolds says, referring to the spaghetti dish.
"It tastes good, too," I admit. "But can you eat it? Mr. Reynolds said--"
"Margaret, I'm an old lady who enjoys her food. If I can't eat what I want, you might as well bury me six feet under right here and now."
"Okaay," I say warily. "If you insist." I place a small spoonful on Mrs. Reynolds' plate, but she raises her eyebrows and urges me to heap on another spoonful. When we get to the end of the buffet line, I'm afraid to take another glance at the dance floor.
It's like a car wreck. You know what you're going to see is bad, but you can't help it. I wonder if that's how people felt when they saw me lying on the ground after the accident.
Okay, so I'm just like everyone else. I check out the dance floor and, thankfully, my mom is nowhere to be found. But I do see Kendra Greene. She's slow dancing with Brian Newcomb as if he were the love of her life.
My dream is to find a guy who'll love me despite my flaws and won't turn away from me when a perfect girl walks by. Maybe a boy like that doesn't even exist.
I'm sitting at the table watching Mrs. Reynolds eat. I have no clue how she packs it all in for such a small woman. She takes a small bite of the Spaghetti Spectacular and gives me a nod. "It's like a burst of flavor and different textures making it taste ..."
"Spectacular?" I say.
"Quite," she agrees, and we both laugh. Mom comes sidling over to the table. Was that a shimmy I just saw her do as she sat down? "What's so funny?" Mom asks.
"The spaghetti dish," Mrs. Reynolds says. "It is spectacular."
There's silence now, because Mom immediately knows we're talking about Mrs. Becker's award-winning specialty.
Mr. Reynolds is sweating and takes a sip of water. "Is something wrong?"
Mom shakes her head.
The band guy is yelling for the over-twenty-one crowd to get on the dance floor. Parents flock to the middle of the floor, ready to show off their moves.
I watch the other kids in my grade running around and enjoying themselves. Brian and Kendra enter the Fun House. Drew Rudolph is trying to coax Brianne onto the Tilt-A-Whirl. My cousin Sabrina is sitting next to her sister on the Ferris wheel.
"Go on," Mrs. Reynolds says. "Join your friends."
"I don't have friends," I admit. "I'm what you call a loser. Or a loner. Take your pick."
"Pshaw."
"Huh?"
"Pshaw. Hogwash. You're a smart, pretty young lady. Girls like you are not losers. Or loners."
"I'm not pretty, that's for sure. And I limp."
She looks me up and down. "You may lack fashion sense, but you have fine features when you're not pouting or looking startled. And the limp ... as long as it doesn't bother you, it shouldn't matter what people think."
I believe I have that startled look on my face right now.
"And what's this nonsense about you not having any friends? Everyone should have at least one friend."
I glance around and spot Leah Becker, sitting alone at one of the tables. Her parents are in a deep conversation with another couple a few feet away. I would walk up to her, but she'd probably ignore me.
Mrs. Reynolds puts her hand on mine. "Is she a friend?"
"Used to be."
"Go talk to her."
"I wouldn't even know what to say."
Mrs. Reynolds lets out a frustrated breath. "Suit yourself, child. But when you're an old bird like me you'll be wishing you had more friends in your life. Being alone isn't fun, is it?"
"No. Being alone isn't fun."
I look over at my mom, who is now line dancing. She doesn't look alone. In fact, she hasn't looked this happy for a long time. Mom smiles at Mr. Reynolds and he smiles back.
Mr. Reynolds. Lou. My mom's boss. My boss' son. Well, whatever his name is, it's clear to me he has the hots for my mom.
I don't know if I should be embarrassed, angry, or happy for her.
NINETEEN
Caleb
My pants are too fucking tight and this shirt has so much starch in it I feel like a mannequin. But I'm here, at the Fall Festival. Once I'm done acting like the model son, I'm outta here.
I spot my parents by the food pavilion, talking with another couple. Nothing has changed since I've been back. My sister is still a zombie, but it's worse now, because since she ran out of the lunchroom Monday, she's ignored me. My parents haven't brought up the accident since I've been back. I tried to talk about it, but I've been shut down.
When I walk up to my parents, my mom smiles. "We were waiting for you, Caleb."
"Well, I'm here," I say unenthusiastically, not in the least ready to put on this show.
My dad looks tired; there are circles under his eyes and he's not walking as tall and straight as I remember. "Caleb, do you remember Dr. and Mrs. Tremont? Dr. Tremont owns a dental practice in Denton, and just opened one up in Paradise now that Dr. Kryzanowich retired."
"Really?"
Dr. Tremont points to the east. "Over by Central and Carriagedale Roads. You know, the new building next to the Paradise cinemas."
I shake my head. "I haven't seen it yet."
"Where have you been hiding out?" Dr. Tremont says, laughing. "It's the building with the big tooth out front."
My dad is turning red under his collar. "I'm starving," he says before I tell Dr. Tremont that I haven't seen his big toothed building because I've been locked up in jail for the past year. "Why don't you taste some of my wife's dish while Caleb finds his friends."
Mom does a really good job of directing the Tremonts to the buffet table and away from me. Do you think Mom realizes it wasn't the best idea to try and pretend like I'm a perfect son? My sister joins them, totally ignoring me.
The Fall Festival is a zoo. It's hard to believe Paradise is a small town when there are so many people around. Brian and the guys are hanging out near the parking lot.
"Wow, Caleb, who dressed you?" Brian quips, shaking his head in disbelief.
I grimace. "Would you believe it if I told you my mother did?"
Brian nods. "Yeah. Paradise wasn't the same without you, man. But those clothes have got to go."
Drew chuckles while he lights a cigarette. "You're right, Brian. Paradise isn't the same. I saw Mrs. Armstrong dancing with that guy from the diner. They looked pretty tight. Do you think they're ... you, know? God knows Maggie's not gettin' any. That girl needs a bunch more surgeries before she'll attract any dude. Maybe she could get a prom date over the internet."
Nobody laughs, because Drew is not funny. He's been a jerk ever since I came back, trying his best to piss me off on purpose.
Tristan throws a football in the air. "We're heading over to the field to play ball. Let's go before our moms try to make us dance with them."
I take off the ridiculous shirt while I play, but my balls are being strangled by the pants I'm wearing. After forty-five minutes, we head back. But when Tristan and Brian are ahead of us, I grab Drew by the shoulder and push him back into a tree. I take him completely off guard. He has no clue I'm tempted to kick his ass. One thing I learned at the DOC from the inmates ... take them when they least expect it.