A Small Town Dream Page 3

  “I told him the truth, Annie, and do you know what he said?” Annie shook her head slowly. “He said, I didn’t need to trap him because he was already mine.” Then she burst into tears again. Annie pulled a tissue from her purse. Connie dabbed at her eyes, calming down, then smiled. “He said he loved me, Annie, and that he wanted a life with me.” Connie laughed with relief, and so did Annie.

  “Connie, that’s amazing.” She meant it. She was surprised—and pleased—that she had been so right, and yet so wrong.

  “But, you were right, Annie,” Connie said, the tears starting again. “You were right about me and... I’m sorry I was mad at you and…I love you so much, and... I was sick that you saw me that way. I was even sicker that you saw the truth. You saw through me, Annie, and I was so ashamed.” Annie felt ashamed as well.

  “I didn’t think that was the truth about you, Connie. I knew... I know how much you need to get away. We don’t feel the same, but I understand. The school year was coming, and you were terrified to be stuck, going only to Davenport. That would have been horrible for you so, I thought... You were just being yourself, that’s all. You’d never hurt anybody, or try to ruin Parker’s life. You’re a good person, Connie. I just know how badly you want out of here.”

  “Well,” Connie said, chuckling, “it was the truth. Was, not is. Parker and I are very careful now. I’m going to get out of here, but we’re in it together, and that’s perfect.”

  They hugged tightly for a long moment. Then Connie ran off to class, and Annie sat alone, thinking. She had known Connie her entire life. They had grown up together, and been close friends, but Annie never used the term best friends because she didn’t like the idea of one person being better compared to others. They had been close ever since they met, holding their mother’s hands in the park one Sunday afternoon. Since that day, they, along with all the others in their little group, had been inseparable. Now, Annie realized, this moment was the closest she had really been with Connie. This confession, this sharing of truth, and shame, and asking for forgiveness, was the closest she was with anyone outside her immediate family.

  This closeness filled Annie with such warmth, such ease and love that she, too, started to cry. She didn’t gloat, even to herself, about being right. She simply took joy in having a friend like Connie.

  “She is my best friend,” Annie said, smiling. “I have a best friend.”

  ***

  “Will you read it?” Parker still stood over her, pleading. “Would you read this and...I need you to read this and…I don’t know... tell me…how you feel after…what it does to your…heart and...your soul?”

  Annie looked at the book, then back at Parker. He was rambling again, and this time sounded desperate. Why did he need her to read a book?

  “Has Connie read it?” Parker flinched. “Your girlfriend, Parker, Connie, has she read it?” His mouth opened, then closed. Had he forgotten, even for a second, who Connie was?

  “Connie, um, no, I haven’t...she wouldn’t, um, be interested…in this.”

  “And you think I would be?” Parker nodded. Too enthusiastically, Annie thought.

  “I do, I mean...this will…it’ll hit you... right in the heart, right in the gut. Like it did me.” He raised his eyebrows, and out of the corner of her eye, Annie saw his foot begin to tap. It scared her a little. Parker had a reputation of being even-keeled, controlled, but now… He abruptly sat down, reached across, and began fiddling with a paperclip.

  “Connie has a heart and guts too, Parker, so why wouldn’t it…hit her?” He shook his head violently, looked furtively around the library, and then he leaned in to whisper.

  “She’s not the same as you, Annie. She’s great, and I love her and all but...something...” He took a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself. “She lacks something. It’s not a bad thing. I just don’t think she’d...” He looked at her, his eyes questioning. “Will you read it? Please? I need somebody to talk to about it. I need to know I’m not... all alone.”

  The word hung between them, and Annie felt the weight of it. She looked at the dustcover. It was plain, simple, just the words, all capital block letters in a line below a small abstract graphic art piece. ON…THE…ROAD. Then the strange name, Jack Kerouac, at the top. She looked up at Parker, and he smiled, hopeful.

  “How do you pronounce his name?”

  Parker told her, explaining, “It’s French-Canadian.”

  She played it over in her head. It sounded foreign, exotic. “Ok,” she said after a moment, “I’ll give it a read.”

  “Yes!” Parker shouted, throwing his arms in the air. He got up and ran around the table, ignoring those who stared, got on his knees, and hugged Annie where she sat. “You’re going to just... I cannot wait to hear what you think!” Then he leapt to his feet, kissed the top of her head and ran out of the library.

  Annie laughed at his joy and his energy. She turned the book over.

  “The voice of a new generation,” she read and shrugged. “How bad could it be?”

  She glanced at the clock, saw it was time to head to class, so she slipped the book into her backpack. She was still thinking about Parker as she walked to class, his strange behavior, and how oddly he spoke about Connie. She cautioned herself not to get too worked up, not to read anything into it. She had been wrong about them before. She was determined not to make that mistake again.

  As she turned the last corner toward her class, she saw Parker leaning against a locker, looking down at the floor. He suddenly looked up, caught her eye, and smiled, warm, full, and somehow special. Annie’s heart skipped a beat. He held up his copy of the book, all bent and dog-eared. He pointed to it, smiled again, and nodded. Then he mouthed some words. Annie swore they were, I love you. She frowned and moved close enough so he could hear her.

  “What did you just say?” She was almost afraid to ask.

  “I said, you’ll love it.” She stood for a moment, then moved on.

  In her classroom, she took her seat, waiting for the class to begin. “Is that what he said?” she asked herself. She pulled the book from her backpack and stared at the cover.

  “Well, Ms. Stewart,” said Mr. Gleason, her English teacher, as he walked by her desk. “I never figured you for someone who would like the beats.”

  She flinched. “Excuse me?”

  “The beat writers,” he said. “We’ll be getting to them toward the end of the year. I couldn’t possibly release your young minds into the world without at least introducing you to the voices of the beat generation.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Good?” He shrugged and kept moving. “I think so. But it’s not about good or bad,” he continued, now having a personal conversation with her in front of the rest of the class. “It’s about how it hits you, how it makes you think and feel. Dangerous stuff, Ms. Stewart, so be careful. It may change your mind about your entire life.” He gave her a wicked little smile. She laughed.

  He turned his attention to the rest of the class. “But for now, we’ll stay in the safe, comfortable world of Jane Austin. Pride and Prejudice, page—where did we leave off?”

  The rest of the class opened their copies of Austin. Annie looked at On the Road once more, then slid it into her backpack. She was happy to get back to Jane Austin because she loved her work. But for the rest of the day, Mr. Gleason’s words echoed in her head.

  Dangerous stuff, Ms. Stewart, so be careful.

  4

  Annie slipped into bed, clicked on the reading lamp, and then opened the—according to her English teacher—dangerous book Parker was so eager for her to read. She loved to read, and had a small but impressive collection of her own. Most were required reading for English classes, but her aunts had given her a few and others she had bought for herself, including the find yourself and spread your wings summer novel she hadn’t bothered to finish.

  But what was so magical about this book? Apparently it had changed Parker’s life, and Mr. Gleason had warned her i
t could change her life. It was also in a category all its own:

  It had been thrust upon her by a boy.

  “Well, this will either be boring or very interesting,” she said. She opened the cover, skipped the dedication and the author’s notes, and began to read the first page.

  I first met Dean not long after…

  She froze, not even halfway into the first sentence. Something in her world ground to a halt, a bit like déjà vu, but not. She’d never experienced anything like that before. Maybe I’m just tired, she thought. But she’d promised, so she tried to shake off the feeling and continue reading.

  I had recovered from…

  There it was again. That feeling. More words began to jump off the page.

  …serious…won’t…talk about…miserably weary breakup…feeling that everything was…

  “Dead.” She said the word aloud, needing to hear it to make it real.

  There was something there. Something in that opening that both frightened her and spoke of possibilities, of things to come. Of meeting this Dean person, and though knowing nothing about him, going with him on an adventure like none she had ever experienced.

  “All right, then,” she whispered to the book. “Lead on.”

  5

  She closed her locker door, then gasped when she saw Parker standing there.

  “You scared the—wits out of me, Parker! What is wrong with you?”

  He ignored her. “Did you start it?”

  “What—?”

  “The book, did you start it?”

  She collected herself and started walking down the hall, doing her best to control herself. She had indeed started reading it. She had, in fact, finished it in one sitting.

  Parker followed close behind her, waiting for an answer. She stepped back between a row of lockers.

  “Yes, I finished it.” He burst out laughing, then lifted her off her feet into a hug. She didn’t stop to think, just hugged him back and held on. He set her back down, and they stayed in a loose embrace. “I couldn’t stop! I read all night long. I haven’t slept a wink!”

  “I knew it. I just knew you’d just love it.”

  “It’s crazy, and at places, I was out of breath, like I’d been running or something. It was so—I don’t know. I really don’t have words.”

  They babbled back and forth, topping each other’s sentences, but hearing every word, all the while remaining in their embrace.

  “If you weren’t my best friend, I might be jealous.”

  At the sound of Connie’s voice, they turned. They didn’t guiltily break the embrace, just looked at each other and laughed. Connie walked toward them. “What’s going on here?” There was no anger or jealousy in her voice.

  “This book.” Annie broke the silence and pulled it from her backpack. “Parker told me about it and I read it and... Connie, you have to read this book.”

  “I dunno know, Annie. If it makes me want to steal my best friend’s boyfriend, it might not be my kind of book.”

  “I’m not—!”

  “I’m kidding, sweetie. What’s the book?” Annie handed it to Connie. She looked it over. “Oh, yeah, this one. I didn’t think it looked that interesting.”

  “Oh, it is!” Annie’s excitement bubbled over. “It really is.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to read it then.”

  “Really?” Parker stepped toward her. “You’ll really read it?”

  “Of course,” she said, hugging him. “I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

  “It does,” he said and kissed her. “I love you, Connie.”

  Annie stood back, watching her best friend with her boyfriend, her someday-husband kiss, connect and be happy, and it filled her with joy and... Something else. Jealousy?

  “I have to get to class,” Annie said, turning to leave. Parker grabbed her arm.

  “Thanks for reading it, Annie. I knew you’d love it.”

  “I do...I did...it was just...I’ll see you two later.” She hurried off but paused before the corner. She looked back to see them kissing again. She smiled.

  “Connie’s lucky,” she told herself. “She deserves somebody like Parker.”

  The jealousy, however, continued to ride on her shoulder.

  ***

  “I just can’t.” Connie flopped down next to Annie in the cafeteria. She dropped the book on the table. “I can’t. It’s just...weird,” she said and sipped her Styrofoam cup of coffee. Annie’s mouth fell open. She didn’t expect Connie to love the book as much as Parker did. She didn’t think anyone could, but assumed Connie would at least like it. “I can’t get past the first ten pages. You liked this thing?”

  “I loved it,” Annie said, picking up the book and running her hand over the cover. “I read it in one night.” Connie did a double-take.

  “You’re not serious.”

  Annie shrugged. “I’m surprised you didn’t. It’s all about adventure and freedom and escape...and romance.” Annie smiled, recalling passages from the book that had touched her heart. “It’s the voice of a generation.”

  “Not my generation,” Connie snorted. “Okay, Annie, tell me what it’s about, and what I should like about it, so I can tell Parker.” Annie looked incredulous. “I’m not joking, Annie. There’s no way I can get through this thing, and I don’t want to disappoint Parker, so help me out here.” Annie thought for a moment. It seemed dishonest and somehow wrong.

  “No, I can’t. I mean, Connie, it’s okay if you don’t like it. Parker loves you. He’s not going to change his mind just because you don’t like a book.”

  “But it’s so important to him,” Connie said, taking the book back and rifling the pages, looking disgusted. “I want to like the things that are important to him.”

  “Tell him.”

  “Tell him what? That I can’t stand it?”

  “No, tell him the truth, that you want to like it, because what’s important to him is important to you. Tell him that, and it’ll be fine.”

  “You think?” Connie bit her cheek.

  “I’m sure.”

  But am I? Annie wondered how Parker would react. She could have told Connie a few highlights, some lines to quote, and Parker would be none the wiser. But she was stuck now.

  “It’ll be okay, Connie. It’s just a book after all, and I’m sure with time, there’ll be other books and other things you’ll share. This isn’t the end of the relationship.”

  “You’re right. One book isn’t going to ruin our relationship.” Connie sounded more cheerful. She was confident in this, because she believed in what she had with Parker. “Thank you,” she said, hugging Annie. “I have to say, when I saw you two hugging, and found out it was because of a book, I was worried.”

  “Connie, I would never...” but Annie’s was a half-hearted protest. Connie didn’t notice.

  “I know, sweetie. I was just being silly. But you’re right, I’ll tell him the truth and it’ll be fine.” The bell rang. They gathered their things.

  “Annie?” Connie stopped in the hall.

  “What?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  Annie smiled, watching Connie walk away, but there was a sudden heaviness in her heart, one she didn’t understand.

  Or rather, a heaviness she didn’t want to understand.

  ***

  “Wow.” Annie sat down across from Parker in the lunchroom. They were the first ones at the table. “You look like somebody smothered your puppy. What’s going on?”

  Parker sat, shoulders hunched, fiddling with something in his hands. Suddenly Annie was actually worried.

  “Parker, is everything OK? Did something happen with Columbia?” He shook his head. “What is it, Parker?”

  He didn’t raise his head but said, “She didn’t like the book, Anne.” She waited, but he said nothing else.

  “Well, maybe she needs to—”

  “No!” He cut her off almost violently. “S
he didn’t even read it. Said she ‘couldn’t get through it.’” He made quotations marks in the air with one hand. “Said it ‘made no sense,’ that it was ‘weird.’” He went back to fiddling with whatever it was. “She called it weird.” He looked on the verge of tears.

  Annie got up and moved to his side of the table. She reached to take his hand to comfort him, but stopped.