Girl By Any Other Name Page 9

  Love always, Miss Melanie Adams.

  Fuck.

  I should have known better. Sylvie wouldn’t have written me a gushing note, rhyming “drip” with “flip” in some lame-ass poem that didn’t meet any stanza requirements. It wasn’t her style. Why had I assigned this dumbass homework in the first place? Now I’d have to talk about impropriety to the damn girl, who obviously had some misguided crush on me.

  I did away with the whole anonymous thing and just read the rest of the letters in plain sight. It would be an understatement to say Sophie Becker’s letter was a disappointment, although it was a poem.

  Dear Barista,

  I waited in line for twenty minutes. I disliked the pretentious atmosphere here. Why must it be your call to rename large, medium and small? Why are there so many blends? I just want something hot with caffeine…maybe some sugar and cream. Is it too much to ask? Too much to dream? Coffee should be brewed and consumed not contrived in the boardroom. I don’t want it steamed, whipped or blended. I want it in an old-fashioned sort of way with a paper cup that I don’t have to display.

  Sincerely,

  Sophie Becker

  Nice. I asked for an unsent letter to anybody, and the girl wrote a complaint sonnet to her local coffee shop.

  I was acting foolish. Surely, she would just tell me and not have me go through this heartache. My Sylvie wouldn’t do this to me. I had to face it. Sylvie died a long time ago.

  Glancing at my watch, I debated cancelling my plans. But if there was any night I needed a drink, it was tonight.

  * * * *

  “Hey, man,” Tony greeted me, smacking me on the back as I took up residence at our usual table.

  “How’s things, Doc?” I asked.

  “Not bad. One step forward, ten back, but still chugging along.” He still wore his deliveryman’s uniform.

  Tony was one of the few friends I’d made in Portland. We frequented the same bar. At first, we’d just talked about football, and a friendly rivalry ensued as we debated the merits of the Cowboys versus the Giants, but then we’d started discussing life in general. Tony was an orphan, and he’d confided in me. Since I’d lost my dad, I knew some of what he’d gone through. It had been during one of those nights after a few too many Alabama Slammers when my Texas twang came out in full force that I’d revealed the story of Sylvie. Tony hadn’t judged. He’d just listened to me go on about the girl I loved and lost. The one I refused to give up on.

  I liked Harkin’s place. It was a dive bar by all considerations, but I preferred that. A real hole in the wall where a man could do his drinking in peace.

  Molly joined us soon after I arrived. “How are you, Caleb?” she asked as she took up the seat between Tony and me. She always called me by my full name. Molly was a stunning girl with shiny platinum-blond hair, baby blue eyes, and legs that clamped around a man’s waist perfectly. She didn’t fit at Harkin’s but she always insisted on meeting up with us. She was a good friend. Even though I ended things, I missed our casual hookups. She wanted more. I couldn’t give it to her. Hell, she deserved more.

  “Acceptable, and you?”

  “The same,” she said as she took a sip from her wine glass. “Did you order the chicken wings?”

  Tony nodded. It was our usual greeting.

  “Any word on our Raven Girl?” Tony asked, referring to my nickname for Sylvie.

  I thought of telling him about Sophie Becker, but I didn’t want to go into it, especially with Molly there. In fact, I should forget the whole stupid idea that Sophie and Sylvie were one and the same. “I think I’m going to give up the ghost finally…or maybe I should say the raven.”

  Molly leaned into the table, patting my hand. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said in a long time.” Unlike Tony, Molly did judge me. The only reason I’d told her was because she’d been so upset when I ended things and wanted some explanation. So, I explained how I still loved another girl. I couldn’t be any more to her than a friend and occasional sex partner. The disclosure hadn’t been my brightest idea. Like my family, she thought I needed some serious counseling.

  “C’mon, Tanner, you said so yourself she’s out there. Are you giving up just like that?”

  Molly shot Tony a warning glare, but he ignored her in typical Tony fashion. She’d never really cared for Tony. It didn’t help he encouraged my crazy pursuit. He thought my search was romantic. Strange, since he never talked about the opposite sex with any long-term goals. He always had a slew of girls hanging off him. I mean, the guy was a weight-lifter, for God sake. He had helped me get back into shape. I hadn’t let myself go exactly, but my six-pack had disappeared for a while. I didn’t consider myself vain, but I missed the definition my body once had. I’d even started running again despite my limp.

  Molly thought I was a workout fiend. I worked out a lot, but it wasn’t an addiction like she thought, or even for the health benefits. It was the distraction I craved from the dark thoughts inside my head. What could I have done differently? How many ways could I have saved her? I’d spent many hours wondering all the possibilities. Currently, the answer to the last question had fifty-six possible answers.

  I let out a cynical laugh. “Let’s face it. I’m no Sherlock Holmes. Hell, I’m not even Fred from Scooby Doo. Besides, I think it’s a wasted pursuit. I’ve read too many novels, and they’ve colored my perspective. Call it an occupational hazard.”

  “So, you’re just giving up?” Tony asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

  I shrugged. “I think I’m just going to live my life for a while and not focus so much on the past.”

  “So, what does that mean, Caleb?” Molly asked, running her finger around the rim of her glass.

  Shit.

  I knew what she was thinking. I wasn’t ready for a relationship yet. I had never allowed myself to mourn for Sylvie. I needed to before I completely moved on. “I’m not sure.”

  She looked hurt. The last thing I wanted to do was cause her more pain. “Let’s talk about you, Molls. Do you like your new job?” Molly, a recent graduate from nursing school, just started working in the field.

  She sighed. “Eh, it’s more boring than I thought it would be and my feet ache. I’m wondering if all those years were wasted, and I chose wrong.”

  “You’ll get used to it. Just give it a chance.”

  “You think so?”

  “It’s what you’re meant to be doing. You heal people. That’s pretty amazing, girl.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t light up her face like it usually did. A new wave of guilt hit me. She was wondering why she couldn’t heal me.

  She didn’t realize it yet, but I was a lost cause.

  Chapter 10

  Excerpt from Raven Girl

  Age 15

  “Cal, you are such an idiot!” Sylvie said for the twentieth time since we’d been walking home from school.

  “Quit it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? Look at your face.”

  “You should have seen his,” I said with a cocky smile.

  She stopped and shook her head at me. “Why did you get into a fight with Nate?”

  “He deserved it.”

  “Y’all are best friends.”

  “Girl, you’re so cute when you try to sound Southern.”

  She squared her shoulders, in a stance I recognized as pissed-off Sylvie mode. “Not funny.”

  “But you’re wrong,” I said, tugging on one of her pigtails. “He’s not my best friend.”

  “He’s not?”

  “You’re my best friend, Sylvie.”

  She shook her head at me, but I could see the smile curling at the edges of her beautiful mouth. “Are they going to suspend you? Oh, my God, are you going to get kicked off the team for this?”

  “Are you on crack? We’re in Texas, and I’m the reason we’re in the state championships. They care more about us winning than Nate’s busted nose.”

  I hadn’t thought I could play foo
tball after my dad’s death. The whole island rallied around me, trying to persuade me, but it had been Sylvie’s encouragement that made it possible. Everyone said I had to play for my dad. It was too much pressure until Sylvie told me I should just play for myself like I always had. My dad would be proud no matter what happened.

  That’s just what I did. I played for me. She came to every game, cheering me on, right next to Momma and Mandy. Exactly the confidence boost I needed.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t get in trouble.”

  “Principal Sherman said he’s not even going to tell Momma. Nate’s parents won’t either.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “I’m the kid who lost his dad. I’m getting a lot of free passes these days. Everyone thinks I’m just acting out.”

  “Is that why you hit him? Did he say something about your dad?”

  I got quiet, not sure if I should tell her. I readjusted our backpacks, one on each shoulder. She reached out for hers, but I took a step back. I always carried her backpack when we walked home together. Today was no different. “No, we just had a disagreement,” I said in hopes it would stop her interrogation. It didn’t.

  “What kind of disagreement would cause you to pummel another kid? You could have gotten hurt. You risked injuring yourself before the championship game. What the hell was worth all that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, staring me up and down, as if she could find the truth by studying my body language. Hell, she probably could. “He said something about me, didn’t he?”

  Bingo.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “What did he say? Spit it out and don’t lie.”

  She stood on her tippy toes as if trying to intimidate me. I’d had a few major growth spurts and I towered over her now. She jabbed her fingers into me as she asked every question. “Did he say I’m a freak? A retarded mute? Or maybe he called me a psycho anorexic? I’ve heard all of them, and they don’t bother me. They shouldn’t bother you either.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and brought her face close to mine. “They bother the hell out of me.”

  Her body went rigid, her baby brown eyes widened, and her soft lips parted. I imagined all the possibilities if I laid a hard, wet kiss on her. Would she push me away? Draw me closer? I let her go. “But that’s not what he said.”

  “Then what?”

  She’d keep this up until I gave in, so I surrendered. “He said you had nice tits and a fine ass.”

  To my annoyance, she started laughing. “Hell, Tex, that’s kind of a compliment.”

  “Not to me. He can’t check you out like that. It’s disrespectful.”

  The conversation pissed me off. I wasn’t mad at her. She couldn’t help she was hot. She wore regular clothes now and did away with the powder crap. Today, she was in a pair of dark jeans and a simple t-shirt. She wasn’t trying to be appealing, and the clothes were still loose on her, but her beauty shined through anyway. How could it not?

  She had long hair that felt like fine silk, golden sun-kissed skin, and the most pouty, kissable lips I’d ever seen. I’d always known she was beautiful, but that was a fact I wanted to keep to myself.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  Was she trying to piss me off? But she was right. We weren’t together in that way. Since I’d kissed her last year, we hadn’t done anything else. Well…except sleep together. Not sexually, but ever since my father had died, I’d found it difficult to fall asleep alone. She’d always had insomnia. So, she needed me, too. I wasn’t sure if there was a limit to the number of nightmares someone could have, but this girl broke all quotas.

  I’d sneak over to her house at night, and we’d fall asleep talking. We didn’t do anything except sleep, although on more than one occasion I’d woken up with a serious boner. She’d just laugh and push me away. Hell, I practically ran away from her when that happened. I’d gone out with other girls in the last year. Nothing serious. Truthfully, I was just waiting for her to give me a sign, a signal she wanted me, but she took her damn sweet time. She didn’t even seem jealous, which was weird, because I knew she had feelings for me. Yet, I couldn’t stand the idea of Nate making comments about Sylvie’s body, let alone looking at her.

  “It’s degrading to you.”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Don’t get yourself in trouble for me again. I mean it.”

  “I can do whatever I want, Sylvie.”

  “No, you can’t. Not if you care about me…please.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll never forgive myself if you get hurt.”

  “I can take on Nate or any other guy. I won’t let anyone talk about you that way.”

  “There are a lot tougher people than Nate Mitchell in the world.”

  Not our world, I thought. Her voice sounded weary and tired all of a sudden. I wondered what she was going on about.

  “I swear you are the weirdest girl, you know that?” I said, making a sad attempt at humor.

  She offered me a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I am. Come on.” She clasped my hand. “I want to clean you up before your mom sees your face and has a heart attack.”

  We walked into her house. All the curtains were drawn, and it was dark as usual. I always thought it was creepy and cold except for her bedroom. Her father snored on the couch with an empty Glenlivet bottle on the table. I wondered how his liver still functioned. She looked at me, placing her finger to her lips to secure my silence, which was ridiculous. The man was so far gone I doubted he even knew what day of the week it was. She pointed to her room. I started walking toward it, but I stopped just short. I watched as she approached her dad.

  “Daddy,” she said, gently shaking his shoulders. “Daddy, did you eat today?”

  “What?” he replied groggily.

  “Did you eat?”

  “I’ll get something later.”

  “Do you want me to fix you a sandwich?”

  “Leave me alone, Gabby. Let me sleep.” Gabby?

  “Sylvie. I’m Sylvie. I’ll fix you a sandwich later, and you need to eat it. There’s some leftover pasta Mrs. Tanner made for you if you want that instead.”

  “What part of leave me alone did you not understand?” he said through gritted teeth, shoving her away from him. My fists clenched. I wanted to knock those teeth right out of his mouth, but Sylvie would never talk to me again if I did that. He might not give a damn about her, but she sure as hell loved him.

  “Sorry,” she said, standing up.

  Our eyes locked. A crimson blush spread across her cheeks. She was embarrassed I’d witnessed the private moment. I should have felt guilty about it too, but my anger superseded any other feelings. How could he talk to his own daughter like that? We walked into her room in silence. Mr. Cranston wouldn’t say anything even if he was sober. He didn’t acknowledge her in any way. My daddy would have had choice words for Mandy if she wanted to take a boy into her room. Plus, the boy would have been in a world of hurt. But Harry Cranston appeared completely apathetic.

  .

  I headed to the record player I’d given her last Christmas. She loved it so much you’d think I’d given her a diamond ring. I chose a record and placed the needle against it. America’s “Sister Golden Hair” played softly. I wondered if I played enough of these songs for her, she’d finally get the hint. Sylvie approached me with the first-aid kit she’d fetched from the bathroom. I sat on her bed.

  “Why did he call you Gabby?”

  She concentrated on taking out the needed supplies to fix the small cut at my temple, the one place where Nate’s fist had connected with my face. “He’s just confused,” she said, rubbing my forehead with a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant.

  “Shit, that hurts.”

  “Good,” she replied. “Serves you right for getting into a fight.”

  “Do you get off on my pain or something?”

  “Hardl
y.” She placed a bandage over my wound. “I finished the book by the way.” Sylvie and I had our own private book club. Whenever I bought a book, I’d lend it to her afterwards and vice versa. She was the only person my age who loved to read as much as I did. I had turned her on to Stephen King, and she’d gotten me hooked on Anne Rice.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Why not? It’s a classic.”

  She sat on the bed next to me. “I don’t think Steinbeck liked women very much.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, there was only one female character. She wasn’t very likable. He didn’t even give her a name. He called her ‘Curly’s wife,’ for God’s sake, throughout the whole damn book.”

  “Not every single character needs a name.”

  “I think you’re wrong, Tex. Everyone needs a name. It’s a right, not a privilege.”

  “You’re reading too much into it. It wasn’t intentional, I’m sure.”

  She stood and put her hands on her hips. “How could you say that? I mean, think about it. Sometimes a name is the only thing you own. I’d hate it if people started calling me ‘Cal’s nutty neighbor’ or ‘Cal’s crazy friend.’” She looked so damn beautiful when she was aggravated.

  I grabbed her waist and pulled her onto my lap. “What about Cal’s hot girlfriend? Would you be okay with that title?” I whispered against her ear.

  She pushed my hand away. “We’ve talked about this.”

  “Shit, why not? Is there something wrong with me? I recall you mentioning I was the second coming of Justin Timberlake. Aren’t you a fan?”

  “Yeah, and you let it go straight to that big head of yours.”

  I smirked. “Girl, stop acting hard to get. You know you want this.” I plucked my T-shirt, knowing full well she’d been checking out my abs at the beach yesterday.”

  “Vanity is a sin.” She crossed her arms, but the corners of her lips twitched as she fought a smile.

  “Seriously, Sylvie, why not? You have to know how I feel about you. Don’t you feel the same?”

  “I told you, my dad won’t let me date.”