I went back to school to finish my time. I had earned my high school diploma at sixteen, but the only reasons I went were because, one, I wanted to bother my mother; two, I wanted some control over my own life; and three, I wanted to spend time with Violet, like a normal person.
On my first day back, I ran into Ace, who wore aviator glasses and a cheeky grin.
“Scarlett,” he nodded.
“Ace,” I nodded back.
That was the extent of our conversation.
As the day wore on, a thick excitement bubbled in the halls. Violet found me and gave me Ace’s glasses, which were mangled. She informed me that Brando had walked into Coach Peter’s physical education class and asked to see Ace.
The glasses were a byproduct of Brando’s fists, and so was the jaw wiring that Ace required.
The entire class pretended like they hadn’t seen what happened or who’d done it. No one liked Ace, and word in the halls was that Coach Peter still had a soft spot for his favorite athlete. I was prepared to go to the cops to tell them what happened in Texas in return for Brando not being charged—if Ace decided to write down what happened—but nothing came from it.
Ace turned out to be smarter than his actions, so I let sleeping junkyard dogs drool.
To fill the time until graduation, I did as expected. Packed. After packing, I spent time with Elliott. Eunice was a permanent fixture throughout my days, a byproduct of my parents, and she would tag along with me. She’d usually bring a book and read in the car, not wanting to intrude on my private time.
Saying goodbye this time seemed harder than the first. But I always felt like someone was there, watching me. I had a shadow that refused to leave. It didn’t comfort me, but it was there nonetheless.
It wasn’t Eunice. She didn’t creep.
After graduation, Violet and Mick offered to help me bring my things to the small shipping store downtown. We packed Mick’s small blue Luv Truck with the few boxes I had—excess resulted in waste, so only meaningful things were packed—and the three of us crammed into the two-seater, preparing to send all that belonged to me to another country.
Finding parking was easy enough. Mick took the first box. And as I went in for a lighter one, I hesitated.
I felt him. Again, he was standing in the shadows of my life. Close but not close enough.
Turning into a strong beam of sunlight, I blinked afterward to give my tender eyes relief. Once the initial shock faded, I took a deep breath and marched inside. Safely behind closed doors, I asked Mick to grab the last few. Though I knew the idea of safety was an illusion where he was concerned. Whatever he wanted, he took, regardless of the consequences.
Before I left, I gave the guy working the counter a letter for Maggie Beautiful. I had asked her if she’d like to be my pen pal since I’d be in another country. I told her she could fill me in on her life, and I could do the same with mine, and at the bottom, I signed off with…give Puddin’ my love (Ha!).
I also had an envelope prepared for Brando, but I gave it to Violet to give to him after my arrival in Paris. It had enough bills in it to cover my mistake, a bit more for interest, and a sheet of paper with a spritz of rose perfume. No return address listed.
Violet’s hand kept me steady on the way out. I kept telling myself that if I was strong enough to survive Elliott’s death, I was strong enough to survive leaving Brando.
Truth be told, I wasn’t.
There are some things worse than death. Such as, choosing to leave.
As Mick drove away, I rested my head on Violet’s shoulder, closing my eyes tight. She kissed my temple and whispered, “We’re almost gone. We’ll be in Corona del Mar in a few hours. We have most of the summer to sit by the pool and gaze at the Pacific.” She wiped my eyes and my cheeks. “I need out too. Like yesterday. Then it’s straight to Paris from there.”
I nodded, closed my eyes, and let the teardrops fall, wondering if I’d ever feel whole again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Brando
Sometimes I wonder about Elliott’s death. What he saw before that train impaled his car. Did he see the light before his final breath?