Sing Me To Sleep Part 23

When my new dreams will spring to life.

You' ll drop from the stars.

Happy evermore

Like old stories say.

You can believe.

We land at Charles de Gaulle with plenty of time to make it to our flight, but the place is so confusing. We get off their stupid bus at the wrong place, stand forever in a big pa.s.sport-control line that isn't going to our gate. Terri's almost crying by the time all eighty of us are running down the concourse to our gate. This French woman behind the desk screams at Terri because we were supposed to be here early. And then the plane is delayed for some mechanical thing, but everyone acts like it's because of us. We miss our connection in New York and get rerouted to Detroit through Chicago. We get stuck at O'Hare all day. When we arrive in Detroit, I have no idea what time it is-what day it is. I just know it's dark out. Humid.

I see Mom.

Her hazel eyes water. Her graying brown hair sticks to the sides of her face.

c.r.a.p. I can't do this now.

I fall into her arms, and she starts to sob.

"Stop it, Mom." I pat her back, fight to keep myself from dissolving like she is. "My life is great." I've got a huge lump in my throat that makes me croak the words. I sniff and give her a little shake by the shoulders. "I mean it."

"Oh, honey, you need to face this."

No. No. No. I've figured out how to escape it. Derek.

I got him online in Chicago. We've worked out a plan. Every morning, 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. Swiss time, is mine. That's two in the morning for me. I glance at my watch. I don't have a clue when I last reset it. "What time is it, Mom?"

"Half past midnight."

"Great-we're going to make it."

"Make what?"

All the way home she gets the gushy Derek dish-as much as I dare tell her. None of the private stuff, or my suspicions about his drug habit. She'd go ballistic. "You're going to love him. I can't wait for you to meet."

She smiles at me and nods along as she focuses on the road. "I saw Scott at the Save-A-Lot. He mentioned he's got something for you."

Scott? The prom. How badly I wanted to kiss him that night. It all rushes back in HD-quality vision. But, I've got Derek now. I'm safe. Scott and I can be friends again.

I'm too tired to carry my suitcase up to my room.

"Just leave it, Beth. Get some rest."

I kiss Mom good night. "I'm okay." I look at her, and she gets what I'm talking about. "Let's not make it a big deal."

She shakes her head.

I haul my tired b.u.t.t up the stairs. My alarm clock reads 1:50 a.m. Ten minutes. I fall into the shower and throw on a fresh nights.h.i.+rt. Clean feels delicious. I can't remember when I showered last.

I sign on. Derek's there, waiting. Early. That's delicious, too.

Derek: where are you?

Beth: home Derek: you should go to bed Beth: I need to talk to my new boyfriend I send it before I realize what I wrote. Boyfriend? I wanted him to say it first. Thirty plus hours of travel will do that to you.

Derek: about time you owned me Beth: you've never said it to me Derek: uh-huh . . . three times.

Like I would have missed that. I yawn and shake it off while I type.

Beth: you are delusional Derek: girlfriend . . . girlfriend . . . girlfriend Beth: now I can sleep I stretch and yawn, get ready to sign off. I'm not sure what to write. I don't know how he'll respond if I go on the gush side. I feel overheated, romantic, and so into him even though he's so far away right now.

Derek: you're not going to grill me again over my plans for today?

Beth: I don't want to have nightmares Derek: my poor little Beth . . . relax . . . we decided to take it easy Beth: good Derek: we rented mountain bikes and took them on the train up a mountain . . . a small one . . . we're in a wired cafe having that fried potato stuff with eggs and cheese and ham all over it . . . it's pouring out I take a perverse delight in Derek's ruined day. Good. He won't be able to risk breaking that neck I left my imprint on. I'm hungry for it again. These two weeks are going to be way too long. I'm major possessive.

Beth: rain? YES . . . we can chat longer Derek: the guys are done . . . I gotta go Beth: INSERT BLOODCURDLING SCREAM HERE Derek: get some rest . . . girlfriend Beth: what about your cold? don't make it worse He's gone. Definitely no gush. I fall on my bed, imagine him riding a mountain bike full tilt down a mud-slick mountain path. He starts to cough and wipes out. I fall asleep. The vision is worse in my dreams. I'm there riding, too. I wipe out into him-cause the crash. He's lying in the rocks-b.l.o.o.d.y, muddy. I crawl over to him, and we get it on in the mud. I wake up way too soon.

chapter 17.

FRIENDs.h.i.+P.

The doorbell rings.

I roll over, crack an eye at my alarm clock. It's almost 2:00 p.m. I've given in to jet lag. It's summer. Who cares? It's been overcast and humid nonstop since I got back to Port. I wish it would just rain already and get it out of its system. I want it to be nice out by the time Derek gets home. I want to get him to the beach, get him some sun, make out in the sand. We've never kissed lying down. Or in the water. These past couple weeks I've imagined every possible place we could make out. I've compiled quite a list.

Derek was stuck in the Amsterdam airport last night. We chatted until almost 4:00 a.m. my time. Then he got on a plane. I didn't have the guts to tell him about the list. I'll show it to him when he gets here.

The doorbell rings again.

c.r.a.p. How many hours is that? Could it be him?

I fly out of bed. Sloppy oversize T-s.h.i.+rt. No makeup. Wild hair. Total wreck. Race down the stairs. Throw open the door, and there's a guy walking away.

"Hey. Stop. I'm here."

He turns around.

"Scott?" I can feel the flush that's running up my face.

"So you are home."

"Yeah."

"I thought maybe you'd call." He takes a step toward me and stops. "I told your mom-"

"I've been out of it. Total jet lag." And I've been avoiding you. Still.

He nods slowly. "Did I wake you?"

I realize I'm not dressed for visitors. "Sorry. I must look awful."

He eyes my bare legs. "I don't mind." He gets his naughty grin on. "Honest." He walks up the cement path that leads across our scorched lawn to our white-painted porch-still looking at my legs. "It's nice to see the real you." A car zooms by behind him.

"Don't be morbid." I slap at a mosquito on my thigh.

He comes up the porch steps and hands me an envelope. "I brought these-if you still want them." He's wearing a short tank top and cutoffs. He must be doing the weightlifting thing with his legs, too. Nice. His neck is even thicker now. And I can see real abs beginning to form on his stomach. And those shoulder muscles are even more defined.

I take the envelope from him, slide out a dark brown folder, and open it. There's Scott looking sharp in his black tux with his arms around a tall blonde stranger. "This is me?"

He nods his head. "One of you." He stares for a moment. "I think I like this one better."

I manage an embarra.s.sed smile. "That was the best night. You were so sweet. Thought of everything."

"What did you like best?"

"The brownies-no, the dancing." I get redder remembering how we slow danced.

"Too bad Colby is such a creep."

I lean against the doorway with one leg bent up, like a stork. "It did make it exciting."

"But we didn't get to dance again."

"That's right-you owe me a nice long slow dance." I can say that now. I have Derek. I can tease Scott. We're friends.

"Okay." He doesn't look at me like a friend. He looks at me like Derek does. He seems taller. Could he finally be growing? And he's been at the beach. His hair is blonder, and he's got a great tan. Scott messes with his iPod, moves in really close, hands me an ear bud-the first slow song we danced to plays. He puts the other end in his ear. "Dance with me, Beth." He smiles like he's playing around, but the intensity I read deep in the blue of his eyes says something else.

His arms go around me. He pulls me tight and lays his face on my chest. Shoot, he's wearing that same aftershave he had on prom night. I can't resist touching his shoulders. His bare leg brushes mine while we move to the music.

I close my eyes, and the lyrics take me back to that night: Remember when you first held me?

And I believed love could be?

Your lips awoke my senses.

You melted my defenses.

"You need to tell me something, Bethie." Scott raises his face. "I'll never bug you about it again, but it's driving me crazy. Promise you won't get mad?"

"At you? I'm never mad at you." I stroke his head like at prom. Derek won't mind. Scott's my friend.

"Why didn't you let me kiss you good night? One kiss. What's so awful?"

Man, it's hot out. Sticky. "You wanted to kiss me?" I really need a fan. How can he still do this to me? I have a boyfriend. I'm not starving anymore.

"Wasn't that obvious? Why did you run like that?"

I don't answer. Whispers of the words I wrote after my escape float through my memory.

Can't you see how much you have changed?