Sometime Soon - By Debra Doxer Page 0,42
removes three bottles of water.
“I know you’re not a vegetarian since you ordered a burger at lunch,” Ryan says. “I figured turkey was probably a safe bet.”
“Turkey is great,” I tell him, not sure why I’m so dumbfounded that he’s gone to the trouble of bringing lunch for all of us. I almost want to cry at the gesture.
“I know a girl who’s allergic to poultry,” Wes states casually.
I turn to him surprised. This is the first sentence he’s offered that wasn’t prompted by a question. “Really?” I answer, taking the offered sandwich from Ryan. “That’s unusual.”
He nods. “She goes into anaphylactic shock when she even gets near it.”
“From poultry?” Ryan asks skeptically, sitting himself down beside me again.
Wes confirms this with a solemn nod. “It happened one day in the school cafeteria. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Was she okay?”
He shrugs. “I guess. She was back in school in the next week. She missed her afternoon midterms though. I wished I’d thought of that. Maybe I could suddenly become allergic to paper or something.”
“You’re already allergic to homework,” Ryan mutters.
“Ha ha.” Wes smirks at him, unbothered.
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly in a swirl of animated conversation, fleeting moments of eye-contact between Ryan and I, and attempts at swimming in the seaweed laden ocean. In late August, the beaches around Massachusetts seem to overflow with seaweed, thickening the water and covering the sand. I cringe at the feel of it brushing against my skin, but I don’t want to be the wimpy girl. So I follow Ryan and Wes when the afternoon heat drives them into the water.
As we head down to the water line, I imagine horsing around in the water with Ryan and hoping we’ll get to touch again, but Wes has brought a football with him. Although Ryan tries to include me in their ball toss game, Wes seems intent on holding his brother’s attention. When the throwing distance becomes far more than I can achieve, I beg off and head back to my beach chair.
The air chills my wet skin, and I wrap a towel around myself as I go for my cell phone again. This time there is a message. Feeling hopeful, I dial into my voicemail. At first I don’t recognize the voice. “Hi Andrea. It’s Jason. Just thought I’d give you a call. Hope you’re having a good weekend. Get in touch if you’d like to meet up again one night this week.”
I stare at my phone. It’s unlikely I’ll be returning that call. Frustrated and bordering on angry, I dial Katie’s cell phone number. It goes straight to voicemail. “It’s Andy,” I begin, “I hope you got my previous messages. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m worried about you. Please at least text me and let me know that you’re okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just a quick, ‘Hey, it’s Katie. I haven’t stuck my head in an oven’ would be good.” I wince as I push the End button. I’m always trying to make a wisecrack, but if Katie really is completely depressed right now, that was a stupid message to have left.
I look up to see Ryan and Wes making their way toward me with water dripping off their hair and smiles on their faces. Watching them walking beside each other, I can imagine Wes as an adult, filled out and less awkward, more like his brother. I hope he gets his act together soon, before he gets into trouble he can’t get out of.
By late afternoon the crowds began to pack up and drift off to their cars. After much hinting from Wes, our little group does the same. I slip my clothes on over my sticky skin, trying to brush the clinging sand away, and I look forward to the shower I’ll take the minute I get home. Overall, it has been a very pleasant day. I can’t help but think how differently the day might have gone if it had just been the two of us. Ryan seemed uncomfortable talking about anything more than surface topics in front of his brother. So, other than his family issues, I haven’t really learned anything more about Ryan. But I don’t want to begrudge him time with his brother.
The car ride home is much quicker than the ride there. Tired from the day, we’re mostly silent, enjoying the radio and watching the passing scenery. We arrive back at my