A Small Town Dream Read online

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  A Small Town Dream

  by

  Rebecca Milton

  ***

  1

  She was too big for the borders of her tiny town. All she wanted was to stretch her wings, to break the bonds of prying eyes, judgmental voices, and whispered disbelief, to be somewhere she could be herself, without fear, without worry. Somewhere she could finally be who and what she really was…

  Annie put down the book and looked out the window. The light summer novel she’d picked up on a whim was about spreading your wings and finding yourself in the world. But while wanting to be somewhere else might be true for someone else, as it was for the girl in the book, it wasn’t true for Annie Stewart.

  Her small town fit her like a favorite dress, one worn all summer long. One to wear walking through the fields, or down Main Street. One to wear with friends at county fairs and barn dances. She was happiest in that dress, just as she was happiest in her little town. She was happy in Rockland. Happy with her friends, her school, her place in life. She loved her parents, and she knew others who wanted to leave, to spread their wings, and many had, but not Annie.

  That last summer, as she and her little circle of friends looked forward to high school graduation, many nights found them sitting atop of the water tower that looked out over well-ordered streets that were margined with historical buildings. Brick buildings, full of history, real history. Their numbers varied, depending on work schedules, or dates, or family vacations, and they would pass a bottle of cheap whiskey, feeling like rebels. They would spin stories of breaking out, of shaking this small town’s dust off their shoes and really living.

  Annie passed the bottle, tilting it from time to time, but she never spoke of leaving. She liked Rockford’s dust on her shoes. It smelled of home and comfort. She couldn’t imagine her wings spreading any wider. She was happy where she was, and happy with who she was.

  “Nothing to add, Annie?” they would ask. She’d just smile, shake her head, shrug her shoulders.

  “I’m sure going to miss you all when you go but—” Then she’d take a sip, pass the bottle back, and look into the night, into the cosmos of earth-bound stars, the streetlights and shop windows. “—I’m happy here.”

  The girls would laugh and tease her. They’d never believe her. How could they? How could you, they’d ask, smart, funny, beautiful Annie Stewart, be happy in this nowhere town, with its nowhere people, doing nothing? In their eyes, people like Annie didn’t settle for mundane. They ventured out and conquered.

  So, the girls would laugh, say sure, sure, hug her, and cherish her, because, in spite of all her blessings, she didn’t see the truth they fully believed. Her naiveté made her even more appealing and for that, they loved her even more. And because they were her friends, she saw something special, wonderful, and perfect in each of them. She loved all of them back with a strength she never questioned and believed would last forever, no matter how far apart they ever were.

  A feeling of sweeping change filled the air that July, a change they all pretended to welcome and look forward to, but one they also secretly feared. Apprehension bubbled beneath the skin, so there were even more gatherings at the water tower. Boys, always fascinating before, took a back seat to girl-time, to talking, planning, or just sitting quietly, the fear held at bay by the company of those who shared it. Those summer nights were more precious and held more meaning. The talk grew deeper, and so eventually, the fear surfaced.

  “Well,” Connie Baker said, missing her mouth with the bottle, whiskey spilling down her chin and ratty t-shirt, sending the girls into a chorus of laughter and teasing. She recovered, laughed at herself, and loved them for their kindness of laughing with her and not at her. “I, at least, am going to be just fine.”

  No doubt. Connie was smart and pretty, nowhere in Annie’s league, but her parents had money enough to dress her well, and for dance lessons, all to make her a lady as a sort of insurance. Not enough for Europe or an out of state college, however. Still, Connie had drive and determination. She had a plan and would always land on her feet. Her friends were more than curious and encouraged her to share.

  “I’ll be leaving this little town as soon as I graduate,” she said, smiling and pleased with herself, “because last night, Parker and I…went all the way.” Everyone shrieked, demanded details. Connie demurred, protesting, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell. She hinted, skirted, gave just enough specifics to hold her audience. “He’s going to New York City, early acceptance and all that, and naturally, now I’ll be going with him.” She sighed, thinking of life in a real city, with thousands of people and something to do, every night of the week.

  The others listened in awe. Not only had Connie been the first of them to reach that coveted feminine milestone, she had done it with Parker Levitt, the pride and joy of Rockland. The smartest boy in school. The boy destined to change the world. A full scholarship to Columbia University in prelaw, darling of the church choir, baseball team hero, captain of the debate team, class president, and, of course, a shoe-in for prom king. He was the dream. The bright future and Connie Baker landed him. She was congratulated, and both admired and envied.

  But after the praise and cheers, the pleading for more, the peals of giddy laughter abating to giggles and winks, Annie Stewart spoke up.

  “Did you use protection?”

  Silence reigned, everyone suddenly considering the question. Connie was special, no doubt, but she, of all of them, wanted out the most. Her parents couldn’t afford more than state college, only three miles east. She didn’t have the grades for a scholarship to a big school in a city far away. What she did have was determination, a can-do spirit, and a get it done at any cost river running through her heart. The girls all suddenly wondered if she would do something like that.

  “You wouldn’t, would you, Connie?” Annie continued. “I mean, that would be bad for poor Parker, wouldn’t it?”

  Again, silence. Connie held the bottle, leaned her forehead against the railing of the tower, looked out over the dark town she finally saw herself putting behind her, and soon.

  “Poor Parker,” she echoed, chuckling. She took a swig from the bottle then passed it along. “Let me tell you about Poor Parker.” She was quiet for a time. Something was there, inside her, now boiling. She looked down the line to Annie. “Poor Parker has it all. Poor Parker has the future in his pocket. He knows it, his parents know it, everybody does. He’s smart, he’s careful, and above all, Parker Levitt is a gentleman.”

  They listened intently, knowing somehow another shoe would drop. Connie motioned for the bottle.

  “A gentleman,” she saluted the boy with another slug of whiskey, “always carries a condom.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and the rest released a collective sigh. Then they laughed again, congratulating her as if she had won a blue ribbon at the fair. But Annie still sat quietly. There’s more to this story, she thought. But she had already over-stepped too far for one night, so she let it go.

  “But Annie, seriously,” Connie said, “thank you so much for thinking so highly of me. It makes me feel so very loved.” Anni
e shrugged. “Except…I thought you were my friend.”

  “She is your friend.” Ellen Lane turned to face Connie. “She only asked because she was worried about you.”

  “Really,” Connie said.

  “Sure,” Ellen continued, trying to make peace. “Look, we all know Annie says she’s happy here but, we also know…she’s full of shit.” Almost everyone snickered. “She wants out just like the rest of us. She was probably dreaming herself into your life and, you know Annie, practical to the end, even in her fantasies she’s going to be safe. She was just...you know, hoping that, in the heat of the moment, you hadn’t… Knowing you had your way out, that you still remembered to…look out for yourself.”

  Connie considered Ellen’s proposal.

  “Is that true, Annie?” Connie asked finally. “Were you really worried about me?”

  Annie thought before responding. She was not prone to lying. The truth, she believed, no matter how painful, was always the way to go. She looked out into the night, realizing that sometimes, though, the truth was not the best option. This was one of those times. Did she want Connie hating her all through their senior year? Did she need that stress and hassle? No, she didn’t, and it wasn’t worth it. This time, the truth would not set her free.

  “Connie,” she began tentatively, feeling her way, “I’m happy you have a way out, I am. I was just worried that you’d get caught up in the moment and…spoil it by…not being careful.” The other girls murmured in agreement. “I mean, New York City...wow. You’d want to spend time just living in that place before you started a family…right?” More mumbled agreement, more support for Annie’s wisdom. “And, honestly, Connie,” she continued, “El is probably right. Maybe I do want out of here as badly as you. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of my…freedom…once I had it.” They all sat quietly, taking it in. Finally, Connie spoke.

  “I figured that’s where you were coming from, Annie.” The group relaxed. “Truth be told, if Parker hadn’t come prepared, I don’t know if I could have said no. He is just so—” She wolf-whistled and the others burst out in giggles and shrieks. Crisis averted, friendship intact, evening unspoiled. Annie leaned her head on Ellen’s shoulder and whispered, thank you.

  “You’re welcome,” Ellen whispered back, “but we still need to talk about this.” Annie nodded. The bottle went around again. The laughter continued. Connie shared more of her elaborate plans, and Annie sat quietly, wondering if Connie was being truthful.

  ***

  “What was that all about?” Ellen asked Annie. They had climbed down and bid the rest good night. They stood in the shadow of the tower. Maybe it was the darkness itself that let Annie speak the truth. Annie was a cheerleader of sorts. She never had an unkind word to say about any of her friends. She saw them all in the best possible light, encouraged them, believed in them, and trusted them completely. Her question to Connie, she felt, had been a betrayal, but one she could not keep in.

  “I was just... following up on what you said,” Annie stammered but even in the dark, Ellen sensed the lie. Annie felt it being ripped apart and braced for what might happen next. Ellen grabbed her arm and yanked her violently out from under the tower and into the circle of light cast by an over-bright streetlamp. A light intended to deter kids from climbing the rickety ladder to spray paint the tower’s sides, but a light that also allowed people to see better, and therefore climb faster and paint faster. Ellen held Annie’s shoulders, looking into her face, searching for something. Annie held her ground and tried to look casual.

  “Annie Stewart, you’re lying.” Ellen’s disappointment colored her voice. Annie took it like a slap in the face but knew Ellen was right.

  “I am,” she whispered. “I honestly believe or...believed that Connie would get herself pregnant just to hold on to Parker, to guarantee her way out. She hates it here so much.”

  Ellen turned away. Annie waited and worried. She didn’t like this side of herself and wasn’t sure where it came from. She knew Parker—everybody knew Parker—but she was not close to him, or even in his circle of friends. She was surprised that Connie was in that circle. And something in Connie’s tone, her relief with finally getting out, made Annie think there was something underhanded going on.

  “I hate myself,” Ellen said, turning back, “but I was thinking the same thing. Connie’s too happy, too sure.”

  The two stood silently for a long time, the night growing cooler. It was a tough realization for them both. Connie, someone they cared about, trusted, and loved, had caused them to doubt and to question, to see her in a way that caught them both unprepared.

  “We’re wrong, Ellen,” Annie said finally. “We have to be. Connie isn’t like that. None of us is. She’s in love with him, he’s in love with her, and it’s worked out for her that’s all. She’s getting what she wants so very much.”

  Ellen agreed, they hugged and forgave, promised to get those thoughts out of their heads, and to support Connie in her happiness.

  “What about the other stuff, though?” Ellen asked. “What you said about realizing you wanted out of this town. Was that a lie?”

  “Of course,” Annie said quickly. “You know how I feel. I’m not like you, not like the others. I’m happy here. I love it here. I’m not interested in any other life. I don’t need to run away.”

  “I’m not looking, either,” Ellen said, “but I am hoping to leave one day, to grow somehow, see more of the world.”

  “Well, I like this world, and that’s never going to change,” Annie said. They hugged again, said their good nights, and Annie felt better as she headed down the dark wooded path toward home.

  However, her thoughts returned to the idea of Connie purposely trapping Parker. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed possible, maybe even probable. She hated thinking of one of her friends that way, but she couldn’t deny that of all of them, Connie would be most likely to pull something like that. Connie didn’t just want to get out Rockland, she had to. She was not meant for small town life. She did not belong or function well there. She had friends, and did all the things that girls her age and her social class were supposed to do. But Connie always seemed to have her eyes down the road, her face in a magazine, reading stories about travel and life elsewhere. Connie went through the motions of being a cheerleader, an enthusiastic student government member, but everything seemed to be for a reason unknown to anyone else.

  Annie had felt this way for a long time, and had seen it in Connie, heard it in her voice. But before tonight, before the announcement about sleeping with Parker, she had never been able to put her finger on it. Now she could. Now she understood. Connie was so desperate to get out of Rockland, she was not afraid to get out by any means possible. That’s why it didn’t seem like such an outrageous idea. That’s why it had come to Annie so quickly at that moment.

  “She would,” Annie said to the trees. “She would do something like that. Not poor Parker. Poor Connie.”

  ***

  As August dwindled, the lazy days of summer tingled with anticipation of the final school year, and of making the most of those last weeks. Connie wasn’t pregnant after all. Annie felt a mixture of relief and shame. She talked to Ellen about it only once, and they both vowed to put the incident behind them. And they did. They spent time together, Connie included, going to the lake, staying out late, going to barn dances, and reveling in youthful excitement.

  Connie often spoke of dating Parker, but the two were never seen together. Connie excused this, saying he was always studying so he wouldn’t lag behind at Columbia. She never brought up Annie’s accusation again. No one did. It faded like a fight most always will between good friends.

  ***

  “Parker gets back tomorrow,” Connie announced, joining then all at the coffee shop in the town square. A lazy Saturday morning, none of them having to work, no real plans, the best kind of summer day, and the freedom to do anything and everything—or nothing at all. Connie was all smi
les and chatter. None of them had noticed Parker was not around. They already saw him so infrequently.

  Connie said he had gone to New York two weeks earlier to tour Columbia, sign forms, and get a lot of things out of the way so that after graduation, he could hit the ground running. His folks were picking him up at the airport that afternoon, and she couldn’t sit still. Everyone was happy for her, teasing, and she basked in it. Now that she had her exit strategy, she was calmer, laughed more, and seemed more present. Where once, as Annie had often observed, Connie did things for show, or with an eye to some result, watching who was watching, and gauging what they were thinking, now Connie just enjoyed. Annie liked this side of her. They all did.

  “I’m going to miss you, Connie,” Annie said during a lull in the conversation. “I’m happy for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still wish you’d stay around forever.” The others nodded, agreeing, adding their sentiments.

  “Well, I’m still here now,” Connie said, breaking the somber mood, “and I am not going to spend my last summer break all mushy and sad so... Fifteen minutes, everybody back here, bathing suits, coolers, and we are all going to the beach!” Everyone scattered toward home to gear up for the day.