A Small Town Dream Page 4

  “What’s this?” He held out his open palm. “Can I see it?” He shrugged.

  She turned it over in her hands. It was a Zippo lighter, obviously second-hand, but nicely cleaned-up and engraved. To P.L. love C.B. “This is sweet, Parker. Connie gave this to you, right?” He shrugged again.

  “Come on, Parker. Don’t you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “Parker, she’s trying to make it up to you.”

  “Make up for what?”

  “You took up smoking in New York, right? So she told me she was going get you a lighter for Christmas, but didn’t have a lot of money, and didn’t know what kind to get that would be special. I told her to try a pawn shop.” Still no reaction.

  “Parker, don’t you get it? She knows you hate it that she doesn’t like the book, so she gave you a present early to make up for it. Don’t you like it?”

  He leaned forward, took it back, and silently stuffed it into the pocket of his now ever-present black jeans. Annie tried again.

  “Parker, come on. Connie loves you. It’s not that big a deal if she doesn’t like Jack Kerouac. It’s just a book.” At that, Parker’s chin shot up, and he glared at her.

  “You don’t mean that, do you?” he demanded. Annie took a breath, buying time. I can’t lie to him.

  “No, I don’t mean that, Parker. I know it’s important to you but—” His eyes went flat, and he hung his head again. What is going on here? She reached for his hand to comfort him, but the touch sent sparks throughout her body. The attraction was so strong, she began to tremble. She managed to pull her hand away and move back to her side of the table. She’d barely sat down when Connie sat down next to Parker. Oblivious to his mood, Connie nudged him gently with her elbow.

  “Hey, there. Did you tell her yet?” she asked him. Without waiting for an answer, she turned to look at Annie. “I told him I didn’t like the book. Now you two can gang up on me, call me a heathen, whatever. I can take it.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and made puppy-dog eyes. “He’ll get over it, right, baby?” He turned his head to give her a half-smile, and that was all she needed. “He still loves me,” she told Annie. “Did he show you his present?” Parker caught Annie’s eyes, and she saw sadness.

  “It’s really nice, Connie. I’m glad you found one.” Then Annie looked at Parker. “He really loves you a lot,” she prompted. Parker gave Annie a look as Connie, still oblivious, kissed his cheek.

  “Of course he does,” Connie quipped. “Now let’s get some lunch. I’m starving. Come on, Annie.” She stood to go to the lunch line, but Parker stayed in his seat.

  “I’m not hungry, so I’ll just…hold down the fort.” Connie shrugged and headed off. Annie looked at Parker who sank back into his chair. Annie got up, intending to follow Connie.

  “It’s just a book, Parker,” she whispered.

  “It’s more than that,” he hissed, “and you know what I mean.” Annie sighed and left him alone.

  As she joined Connie in line, she pondered what Parker meant. Part of her knew, but she didn’t want to give that part too much attention.

  6

  “May I hold your hand?”

  Annie and Parker were sitting on a log on the east side of the lake. The moon, full, pale and bright, hung in the sky, simultaneously floating in the dark water. It was all suddenly far too romantic for Annie’s taste. She was there against her better judgment, but Parker had been so earnest when he showed up, unannounced, and asked her to go for a drive.

  “Parker? What are you doing here?” she’d said when her mother called her to the door saying some boy was asking for her.

  “Go for a drive with me, Annie.” She just looked at him, blinking. “Please? I really need to talk.” He wore the same smothered-puppy look she’d seen in the cafeteria.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen with Connie?”

  “Actually, she told me to come talk to you.” Was that true? It might be.

  “Well, I guess so,” she said, pushing open the screen door, “but we could talk here.” She indicated the porch swing. “It also sounds corny, but my mom made an apple pie tonight. She knew Jack Kerouac ate a lot of that when he was writing the book. Can you believe it? My mother read—”

  “I really want to take a drive. And your folks don’t like people smoking.” That was true.

  So now she was here. In the moonlight. Alone. With her best friend’s boyfriend. They had walked around the lake for a while in silence, then Parker asked to sit so he could smoke a cigarette. His Zippo glinted in the moonlight, and there was something sort of…sensual was the word that came to her mind, about his smooth movements. How he shook the cigarette from the pack, tapped it on the lighter, then ran the lighter once down, then back up the leg of his jeans. The flame was hypnotic, softly lighting his face as he lit the cigarette. Then he clicked it closed, tucked the lighter into his back pocket, took a deep drag, exhaled, and asked to hold her hand.

  She hesitated. This is wrong, she thought. But she didn’t want to be rude, so she held out her hand. The touch of his fingers against her sent more sparks through her, and at the same moment, her world stopped, just like when she’d read the beginning of the book. What is this? She still hadn’t figured out why she’d had all those moments in the first place. But whatever it was, it was exciting, and intriguing, this time, when the electricity sparked between their hands, she didn’t let go.

  Parker didn’t say anything or try to pull her close. He just held her hand and smoked the cigarette. She watched the smoke fingers rise against the trees, lost in her thoughts—that weren’t really thoughts at all—just a peaceful, comfortable feeling. She had begun to think of the song with those lyrics when Parker quietly spoke.

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer.” Annie shook her head. She’d been so caught up in the spell of the moment, she’d nearly forgotten he was there. “Annie?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Parker. You don’t want to…?”

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer.” He turned his head to look at her. “Does that sound crazy to you?” His tone was earnest, but she didn’t know what to say. When she didn’t respond, he turned his head and looked back at the water. “It is crazy, isn’t it?” He took a last drag off the cigarette, then flicked it into the sand, seemingly disgusted with himself.

  “No,” she said at last. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all.” He sighed, and she felt relief flood through his hand that still held tightly to hers.

  “I don’t want to stay here, in this town,” he said, still looking at the water. “I know you don’t understand that part. I want to go to New York, maybe to Columbia, but not for law school. I want to read and to write and...to live. Moment to moment. Do you know what I mean?”

  “No,” she whispered, “what do you mean?” He let go of her hand and stood.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked a ways into the trees, then returned with some branches. He set about building a fire. Annie watched, once again entranced. He worked efficiently, pushing aside the sand to make a pit, piling the branches and sprinkling a few dried pine needles for kindling. He lit the Zippo against his jeans, touched the flame just below the dry branches, then stood back. She watched the fire catch and grow. He adjusted a few of the branches, then sat down next to her and took her hand again. This time she didn’t hesitate.

  “I saw myself, Anne,” he said. How wonderful that he calls me Anne, she thought. He truly takes me seriously. Everybody else called her Annie, and that was sweet, but Parker…

  “I saw myself in New York, Anne, working at my uncle’s law firm, coming home to Connie, and it was...” His chin dropped to his chest.

  “What, Parker?” It was what?”

  “It was fine. It was stable and good, I guess, but it wasn’t enough. There wasn’t any risk. It wasn’t living in the moment. It felt like I’d be living someone else’s life, something they’d planned out and planted me into. Doing what was
expected of me, not what I wanted. It felt hollow, and distant, like I was trapped in some boring TV movie about a nice guy.” He shook another cigarette from the pack, went through the routine of lighting it, then exhaled the smoke through his nostrils.

  You don’t look like such a nice guy anymore, either, Annie thought. You look like a bad boy. And deep inside, she thoroughly loved it.

  “What?” he asked quietly, as if sensing her thought. “Did you say something, Anne?”

  She shook her head, just squeezed his hand. A breeze whispered through the trees around them. Finally, she spoke in a matching whisper.

  “What do you want, Parker?” She braced for his answer. What if he said, I want you, Anne? She bit her lip, realizing she wanted him as well. But could she steal her best friend’s man? Be that kind of girl? Or would she be able to deny him? Then it hit her.

  What if he didn’t say he wanted her? She held her breath, her palm growing sweaty in his.

  “I don’t know, Anne. I know what I want right now, at this moment, but I don’t know what I want in the big picture.”

  “What do you…?” She cleared her throat and swallowed, afraid to ask. Afraid to find out. Finally, “What do you want, Parker? In this moment?” He answered while still looking at the water.

  “I want to kiss you. When you told me you read the book in one night, Anne, I was so happy. Part of me already knew you’d love it, but to hear you say it...” He rose to put a few more branches on the fire, and then stood opposite her. Annie watched him in the fire’s glow. He really was very handsome.

  “I’ve always liked you,” he continued. “When Connie introduced us, naturally… Well, in a little town, everybody knows everybody else, but I didn’t know you. When we finally met, I liked you. As a person. And I loved the way you thought, and how you treated people. I thought you were a good person. But after New York, when things started to change, when I started questioning law school and life, and…Connie…I knew somehow I could talk to you. When I finished the book, you’re the first person I thought of. Then recently, I realized I think about you…a lot.” He knelt down and poked the fire with a stick. Annie stood, walked to his side, and put her hand on his shoulder.

  She took a moment more to gather her courage, and then said, “Just once, Parker. Just this once, tonight, and never again, because Connie’s my friend and I love her, and I care about her happiness, and...” And this is wrong, she thought, so very, very wrong, but just this once…

  “Just this once, yes, I think you should kiss me.”

  She had never really been kissed, only pecks on the cheek and congratulations kisses. A few dates had ended awkwardly, but a real kiss? Never. She always wondered why not, because others told her she was sweet, and she didn’t hate what she saw in the mirror. But romance had always eluded her. So she’d assumed she wasn’t ready. When the time is right, and it felt right, she’d kiss someone. And make love with him, that place deep inside her said.

  It also said, now, Anne, now it’s time.

  He turned to her. She took a deep breath. “Parker, I’ve never—”

  “I know. Connie...well, she told me.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks burned. She looked away.

  “Don’t,” he said, putting his hand on her cheek to turn her face toward his. They held that moment, eyes locked, faces so close, she could smell the nicotine on his breath. It was intoxicating.

  “Don’t worry, Anne. I think it’s... I think you are…”

  Then he closed the gap and pressed his lips to hers. She felt the same spark as when he’d touched her hand, but stronger. He parted his lips, and she followed his lead. The tip of his tongue touched hers, and she trembled. This was so worth the wait, and with that thought, she gave herself over completely.

  He pulled her into his arms. She wrapped hers around his shoulders, their bodies pressed close and tight. Their tongues danced. Annie let the warmth of the fire, and the heat of his kiss, envelop her. She held him tighter, and he pulled her even closer. She wanted this to last forever. She would have let him take her right there. To be naked with him, in body and spirit, and completely, utterly connected.

  I think I’m falling in love with Parker Levitt. When that thought broke through, she broke the kiss and leaned back, though still in his arms, still with hers around his shoulders.

  “Ok, Parker,” she said, dropped her arms. He let her go. “Never again.” He stepped back but only an inch or so. “I mean it, Parker. You have Connie, and you’ll be leaving, and taking her with you, and you… You love her, so we can’t.”

  “I know,” he said in a monotone, “but I can’t give her what she wants. I need something different.”

  When did he start talking like this, Annie wondered. When did he begin to be dissatisfied with the future? When did he… When did we start growing up?

  She suddenly wanted to be back in grade school with Connie and Ellen and all the others, back when the future was no farther away than summer break. Back before the worries, and the wanting to escape. Back when it was simple. That’s what she loved the most about her little town and her sweet life – they were simple. Now though, both were quickly becoming very complicated.

  Step took a step farther back. “I don’t need anything different, Parker. I like my life.” He moved to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand on his cheek. “No, Parker, I said only once and I meant it.”

  “Didn’t you like—?”

  “I loved it. It a perfect first kiss. I couldn’t ask for more.”

  He hung his head a bit, but she took his hand and pulled him back to sit on the log. He lit one more cigarette, and they watched the moon dance on the water awhile. Then he doused the fire. They walked to his car in silence.

  She stepped out of his car when they stopped at her house, and then leaned into the open window.

  “I don’t want to be mean, Parker, but we can’t ever do this again. Not that I wouldn’t love to. But there’s Connie, and school and life, and you need to work things out with her, be honest about what you need to be happy. Maybe she’ll be hurt, but then you’ll be gone, and she’ll be fine. She’ll find somebody else, and you will, too. But it can’t be me. We can’t. Do you understand?”

  He took it all in, looking at her with those sad eyes, and her heart ached. She wanted him to smile. She wanted him to kiss her again. And never stop.

  “I know, Anne. You’re a good person.” He smiled faintly. She stepped back from the car. She watched him drive slowly away until his taillights vanished into the night. Then she sat down on the porch and cried.

  She didn’t know if she was crying because of the betrayal, or because she let Parker go. She was so conflicted, she felt sick. But that kiss. It came rushing back into her memory, and she instantly wanted it again.

  “I’m not a good person,” she said to the darkness. She held her head in her hands, hoping for an answer, but none came.

  She was all alone.

  7

  “Did you talk to Parker?” Annie was alone in the library. Suddenly Connie was there, grilling Annie. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Thank god he was telling the truth, Annie thought. She’d been so worried Parker had come to see her on his own.

  Connie fumbled to sit, her backpack and purse falling to the floor. A boy at the next table looked up and shushed her. “Oh, shush yourself, geek,” Connie snapped. He blushed and sank deeper into his reading.

  Annie closed her book, shoved it into her pack, grabbed the rest of her things, then tugged on Connie’s arm. “What are we doing, Annie?” In answer, Annie snatched up Connie’s bags and dragged Connie out of the library.

  “We’re avoiding detention,” Annie hissed, once they were in the hall. Annie continued tugging Connie along until they were in the courtyard, then sat her down on a bench.

  “Okay, Connie, now, what the blazes is going on?” Connie hung her head between her knees. Annie waited, worried.

  “Parker is... something’s w
rong, but I don’t know what.” Connie was a wreck. Annie rubbed her back. “We haven’t had sex in, I don’t know, at least two months, and we used to do it all the time. He barely speaks to me. He says he still loves me but, there’s something under the surface, something he’s not telling me.”

  “He says he loves you?” Annie wasn’t sure why she needed to hear that, but she did.

  “Yes,” Connie said through her teeth. “He says ‘I love you,’ whoopee-doo. But he doesn’t want to fu—” Annie flinched, and Connie’s hand flew to her mouth. She knew Annie did not use that kind of language, and was always upset when one of her friends did, even when stressed. “Sorry, Annie, I’m just... I wish I knew what was going on with Parker.”

  Then Connie grilled Annie about Parker’s behavior, if Annie had noticed any differences. Annie hedged.