Out of Nowhere (18 page)

“You’re worried about my spinal cord? Why?”

I poked him in the chest with the journal. “Why do you think? You do all these risky, dangerous things. You surf, you skate, you ride that crazy death trap of a bike—”

“Hey, don’t insult my bike.”

“—and you’re taking off to California all by yourself.”

“It’s California, Riley, not Iraq,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“My point
is
,” I said, exasperated, “you think you’re invincible. You think since you survived your car accident, then nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.”

He gave me that look again, the one that made me wonder if he suspected I was mentally deranged. “I don’t think I’m invincible,” he said. “Of course bad things can happen to me. They already have. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to live in a bubble.”

“Exactly. You know bad things can happen, so why put yourself in so much danger? It’s almost like you’re
inviting
disaster. Testing your mortality or whatever.”

“That’s not why I do these things,” he said with a tinge of irritation. Cole was the calmest, most tolerant person I knew, but just like with Dr. Kapur, I clearly tested his patience at times. “I do these things because I
want
to. I like the rush it gives me. I like challenging myself. It’s called being
alive
. And besides, people test their mortality every single day. You could be walking down the street some sunny afternoon, minding your own business, and get hit by a bus. Shit happens. Life is unpredictable and random and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

I looked away, focusing my gaze on the playground a few yards away. Deep down, I knew Cole was right. Death could happen anywhere, to anyone, at anytime. It didn’t need an engraved invitation. People got hurt and killed doing all sorts of ordinary, everyday things. Driving a car. Walking across the street. Standing in the safety of their own kitchen, warming up lasagna for dinner while their daughter sat in the next room.

But I didn’t say any of that to Cole. The more I got to know him, the less I wanted to see the pity/morbid curiosity that would undoubtedly cross his face when he heard the whole story. Even Dr. Maser had gotten that look, and she’d heard much more horrifying things. Whenever someone found out, it was like they couldn’t look at me anymore without thinking about that one defining moment in my life. I was “the girl who’d watched her father die.” I didn’t want Cole to see that girl when he looked at me. I wanted him to see
me
.

Turning back to him, I said, “I don’t know why I read stuff like this. It just ends up scaring me.”

“Why does it scare you?”

I stretched out my legs, feeling the prickle of grass on the backs of my knees. “I think it’s because I know too much now. Like, all the millions of things that can go wrong with the human body. There are so many ways to get sick and die.” On this cheerful note, I laughed a little. “When my mother was pregnant with Tristan, I researched pregnancy complications. Big mistake. I drove her
nuts
the entire nine months. ‘Did you take your prenatal vitamin today? The baby might get spina bifida.’…‘Don’t eat sushi because it contains mercury.’ Things like that. She was ready to kill me by the end of it.”

Cole nodded as if he knew the feeling. “Ah, but you mean well,” he said, picking a piece of leaf off my sleeve. “Reading about diseases and cures makes you feel better, I think. Like you’re doing something worthwhile. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Knowledge is power,” I agreed. “Or maybe ignorance is bliss?”

“That would explain why I’m so happy all the time.”

I smiled and leaned back on my elbows, tipping my face to catch what was left of the sun. “Okay, I know you’re never going to stop taking unnecessary risks, even if I ask you to—which I won’t—but will you at least promise to be careful? I’ve grown kind of fond of your limbs.”

“I’m always careful. But for you, I’ll be extra careful. I promise.” His warm hand grazed my thigh. “I’ve grown kind of fond of your limbs too. Especially these legs. They go on for
weeks
.”

“What does that even mean?” I said, laughing. There were people around so I removed his hand and stood up, tucking the journal under my arm. Instead of bounding to his feet like usual, Cole tentatively lifted his body into a standing position, as if every one of his muscles was screaming in protest. “You okay?” I asked, doing a horrible job of disguising my amusement.

“Yeah.” He retrieved his basketball from the edge of the court. “You can stop mocking me anytime.”

“I’m not mocking you,” I said. But then a snicker escaped, belying my words.

“Next time you talk to Lucas, tell him I want a rematch.”

We started walking toward the car, our footsteps making a rustling sound in the grass. When we reached the sidewalk, I looped my arms around Cole’s waist and kissed him, even though he was sticky and gross and we were in a public place.

“What was that for?” he asked when I pulled away.

I smiled. “Just being unpredictable and random.”

Chapter Fourteen

Since the night of the barbecue—when I called Mom judgmental, implied that Jeff was dumb, and then purposely broke curfew—the vibe between my mother and I had been tense. It was clear we were both still holding grudges. I realized this on Sunday morning, when she got that disapproving glint in her eye as we sat around the kitchen table, eating pancakes. And I knew exactly what was coming.

“Cole was here last night, wasn’t he?” Her gaze stayed on me as she haphazardly cut up a pancake for Tristan, sawing at it like it was an overdone steak. When I didn’t answer right away, she kept talking. “When I took out the garbage this morning, I ran into Tom and he asked me who owned the Camaro he saw in our driveway last night.”

Tom was our next-door neighbor, an elderly man whose disgusting cigar smoke always drifted into my bedroom window in the summer. In all the years we’d lived here, I’d only heard the guy speak maybe three times. Of course he’d break his silence to tattle on me.

“Yeah, he was here,” I said, dousing my pancakes in syrup. “We watched a movie,” I added with emphasis. It was true…we did watch a movie. Bits and pieces of it, anyway, between make out sessions on the living room rug.

Mom plunked Tristan’s plate down in front of him. “Riley, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t want boys in this house when I’m not home?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you have nothing to worry about?” I glanced at Jeff, who was yawning into his morning protein shake and looking totally hungover. He and Mom had gone to a party at a friend’s house last night, leaving me to babysit. I hadn’t even heard them come home. “And Cole isn’t some random boy. He’s my friend.”

“He’s more than your friend and you know it,” she said, pointing at me with her fork. “Why didn’t you mention he was coming over?”

I sighed. “I didn’t know until the last minute. He had plans with his friends but they fell through, so he called me and I invited him over. What was I supposed to do, call you at your party? I’m seventeen now, Mom. I think I should be able to have friends over without asking for your permission first.”

“You know the rules as well as I do, and you know why I enforce them.” She dropped her fork on the plate with a clink. “What has gotten into you lately? You’re disrespectful, you’re defiant—”

“Sorry,” I said, cutting her off. “I guess I’m not perfect, after all.”

“No one’s asking you to be perfect, Riley. I just want the truth.”

“I’m
giving
you the truth.” The pancakes tasted like sawdust now, so I pushed my plate away. “Too bad you don’t trust me enough to believe it.”

Mom blinked a few times, quickly, as if surprised by a sudden gust of wind in her face. Then she stood up, pushed in her chair, and left the kitchen. Jeff’s sleepy gaze followed her for a moment before settling back on me.

“She’s trying,” he said, offering me an apologetic little smile.

“Yeah?” I got up and brought my dishes to the sink, bending down to kiss Tristan’s head on the way. “Well, so am I.”

* * *

An hour later I was at work, complaining to Lucas. “What’s the point of having an open dialogue if no matter what I say, she just assumes I’ll make the same choices she did and screw up my life?”

Lucas nodded as he hunted through a pile of rags for a clean one. “Good point. Say nothing. Show her, instead. And ten years from now when you’re a famous surgeon and she needs a heart transplant or something, tell her you can’t do it because you got knocked up by a patient and had to be suspended from your job.”

I burst out laughing. Obviously Lucas had been overdosing on
Grey’s
too. “Is this patient hot?” I asked.

“Naturally,” he said, winking as he passed by me on his way to bus the tables. “Why else would you risk your entire career?”

That’s exactly my point, I thought. I
wouldn’t
risk it. What would it take for my mother to believe that? What would it take for her to understand that I was creating my own path and not following hers?

For the first time, I began to have second thoughts about attending college so close to home. Mom and I had worked out a plan about a year ago—I’d apply for and hopefully receive a full scholarship for Kinsley, live at home for at least the first year, and maybe have a part-time job. It would be like a continuation of high school, basically, only I’d be that much closer to medical school and my dream career.

But what if I went away? I wouldn’t be able to count on a scholarship, obviously, but that’s what student loans were for. I could go to an even better school, live in a dorm, and come home on holidays. No one looking over my shoulder, no one reminding me about rules or questioning me about who I spent my time with and how. I’d live in a room without ghosts, where I could walk across the floor and see nothing but tile and scuff marks and dust. I’d be free.

When Lucas came back from bussing the tables, I ran my idea by him. “What do you think?” I asked.

“Are you serious?” He grabbed my upper arms and yanked me toward him, crushing me against his coffee-splattered apron. Lucas planned to go as far away as humanly possible for college and could never understand why I’d want to stick around Weldon. Just as I’d suspected, he was thrilled with this new plan. “We could go to college
together
. How amazing would that be?” He let go of me and stepped back, his smile turning sly. “Or you could to go California with Cole.”

I snorted. Yeah, right. I moved over to the display case and busied myself with replenishing the muffin supply as Lucas waited on a customer. When he was done, he immediately returned to my side. “Why not?” he said.

“Why not what?”

He sighed impatiently. “California. With Cole. Doctors are needed everywhere, right? You could go to college there.”

I slid the display case closed. “Sure, I’ll go to Stanford. Great idea, Lucas.”

“There are less prestigious colleges,” he said, poking me with his Sharpie marker.

“And where do you think I’d get the money to move several thousand miles away and pay for four years of college and med school? Is the tip jar crammed with hundred dollar bills today?”

He shook his head at me, disappointed. “My practical Riley. Where’s your sense of adventure and romance?”

“Probably hiding somewhere with your common sense,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the back room to get more muffins.

* * *

One good thing about the events of the morning—they distracted me from freaking out about meeting Cole’s parents after work.

I clocked out at five minutes to four so I’d have time to change and brush my hair in the bathroom. Now my nerves were kicking in. Generally, parents liked me—at least Adam’s did—but what if Cole’s parents thought I wasn’t right for him? Cole had told me about his past girlfriends and the way he described them, they were all athletic and adventurous like him. Not nerdy bookworms. Not girls in therapy who had panic attacks at the mere thought of leaving their comfort zones. What if they thought I was a huge wimp?

Before I left, I went in back to say good-bye to Lucas.

“You look nice,” he said, giving me a once over. “Like a respectable girlfriend.”

I peered down at my outfit—white shorts, blue cami, flip flops—basically what I wore every day in the summer. But I appreciated the self-esteem boost. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thanks.”

Cole was waiting for me out by the condiment station, cup of coffee in each hand. He passed one to me and we made our way to his car, the only two people on the street drinking hot coffee in ninety-degree weather.

“How were the waves today?” I asked once we were settled in the car.

“Almost nonexistent,” he said, turning onto the highway that would lead us to Rocky Lake. “The water was pretty calm.”

I sipped my coffee, wishing I could say the same about myself. Inside, I was a tsunami. The surge of caffeine wasn’t helping, so I stuck my coffee in the cup holder and turned my face toward the window, inhaling the breeze. The farther we got from the city, the fresher the air smelled.

After driving for about ten minutes, we turned off onto the exit ramp for Rocky Lake and then came to a stop at a three-way intersection.

“This is where it happened,” Cole said, putting his empty coffee cup in the slot next to my full one.

“Where what happened?”

“My car accident.”

He said it so nonchalantly, just like the first time he told me about it, at the park back in June. “Here?” I said, glancing around. “But it’s so close to your house, isn’t it?” As if location mattered. As if there were rules against catastrophes occurring within a certain number of miles from home.

“Yeah. Five more minutes and we would’ve been home.” He nodded toward the road on our right. “The car came from down there. It was weird…I didn’t even see it coming. One minute I was talking to my father, laughing about something, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed. I can sort of remember headlights and a loud screech, but after that…nothing.”