A Life, Forward: A Rowan Slone Novel Read online

  “HI, ROWAN!” Trina popped up beside me, all hips and smiles and perfume. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet like a kid in a candy store.

  “What do you want, Trina?” I yanked my English book out of my locker.

  “Just to chat.” She leaned toward me. “You seen Dad yet?”

  “Why?” I snapped.

  She shrugged and twirled her hair around her finger. “He’s dying, you know.” If she’d just been given a bag of lollipops, she wouldn’t have sounded more excited. Her pupils were huge—the large, black masses nearly pushing out the blue around them.

  “Yeah. I know.” I pulled out my notebook.

  “So, you should, like, really forgive him. I mean, he’s harmless now. Dying and all.”

  “Shut up, Trina. You don’t know anything.”

  Her smile faded to a sneer. “You’re such a self-righteous bitch, Rowan. He made a mistake. What are you going to do, cut us all out of your life forever?” Her words came out in a manic rush.

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to do.” But I wasn’t sure those words were true. How would I feel a year from now, five years, fifteen? Would I start to miss my family? It was one thing to refuse to have a relationship with someone when you know they are just a few miles away. If they were dead didn’t that change something?

  “He’s coming to dinner tonight if you want to come over. Gran said to invite you. She’s always talking about how much she misses you. Oh Rowan this and oh Rowan that. She’s going to put a shrine in your room. Stupid if you ask me since you left us and you know, got a new family.” I don’t think she took a single breath until she finished that useless string of words.

  I started down the hall. “No, thanks. I’m not up for playing happy little family.”

  Suddenly, Trina grabbed my arm, her nails digging in through my shirtsleeve. I tried to yank away but her hand was clamped so tight, I couldn’t. “Let go of me.”

  To my surprise, she did.

  “Don’t EVER touch me again.”

  “Oh, is that a threat? What are you going to do about it? You’re losing weight again. You’re about as skinny as I was when I was eight. But you’re eighteen, aren’t you? You couldn’t hurt anything. You are a pathetic kid, stuck in a little boy’s body trying to act all bad and tough and grown-up. You’re such a poser. I bet you really are a little boy. Dad had his boy all along.”

  My vision turned red, and my fists clenched. “Shut up, Trina.”

  “I never did understand why Mike wanted you.” Her huge eyes ran up and down my skinny body, and I had never felt uglier. “Especially when he could’ve had this.” Trina lifted her shirt in the middle of the hall, exposing her pink bra with cups that were filled to the point of overflowing.

  Soon chants of oohs and ahhs filled the air around us, but I didn’t care. Rage tore through my body with the strength of a fire hose, and I shoved her so hard she stumbled then fell, her shirt still hiked up over her chest.

  “You’re just jealous because he would never want a slut like you,” I spat. I turned on my heel and started down the hall, my body rigid but my insides tumbling.

  Her footsteps pounded toward me. I didn’t have enough time to react before she yanked a handful of my hair so hard my books went flying out of my arms and across the floor.

  I screamed but she wouldn’t let go of my hair, and I whipped around to grab at her face. When I felt skin, I dug my nails in until she cried out.

  Within a heartbeat, her hand was up, landing a blow on my cheekbone. Pain shot through my face, but it didn’t stop me. I shoved her so hard she fell onto her back again and then I was on her, fists flying into her as fast as hers were flying into me. Somehow I pulled together all of the hatred and anger and resentment I’d ever had toward my sister and used it in the weight of my punches.

  Someone yanked me off her. “Rowan, stop!” Miss J. wrapped her arms around me like a vice.

  Trina sat up, blood trickling from her lip. Her left eye was swollen and her face was flushed bright red.

  Principal Thompson shuffled down the hall, trying to move faster than his substantial weight would allow. He leaned over Trina and helped her up. “Girls. In my office. Now.”

  Miss J. let go of me with a sigh. “Come see me when you’re done.”

  My sister and I followed him into his office.

  PRINCIPAL THOMPSON motioned for us to sit down, then stared at us for several minutes. His office was large with an enormous wooden desk, an equally large chair behind it, and overflowing bookshelves. The window looked out on the lawn in front of the school.

  His breathing was loud like he was asthmatic. With arms crossed over his protruding belly, he said nothing. Trina’s legs were crossed, and she was kicking one of her feet so fast there was no way he didn’t notice. And what about her eyes? He’d have to notice that, too. But he didn’t say anything about those things. Rather, he said, “Now, girls. What happened out there?”

  His voice was surprisingly high-pitched for such a large man. When neither of us answered, he continued, “You’ve had a rough year. I get that. But that doesn’t mean you can roll around on the floors of this school like animals.” He looked at me. He looked at Trina. “Is something new going on?”

  “No, sir,” I answered, flipping my own gaze up to meet his, then quickly dropping it again.

  “No,” said Trina.

  “This school year is almost halfway over. I don’t want anything like this happening again. If the two of you are having a problem at home, or just in general, come to me or Miss Johnson.”

  I prayed for this lecture to be over soon, and I started biting my nails.

  “I’m going to ignore what happened out there as long as it doesn’t happen again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Thank God he wasn’t going to suspend us. He did not take fighting lightly.

  “Yes,” croaked Trina, her foot going a mile a minute.

  “Rowan, you’re excused.”

  Trina pushed to her feet at the same time but Principal Thompson motioned for her to stop. “Not you, Trina. I need another word with you.”

  I didn’t look at her when I walked out of the room. The hallway was empty, and I was glad. I could feel the burn of embarrassment reddening my cheeks. My books were gone from the floor, and I assumed Miss J. had gathered them for me. I turned left and headed straight for her office.

  “WHAT HAPPENED back there?” Miss J.’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “What is going on?”

  I had never hit another person in my life. It felt so good to pummel Trina’s stoned, lying, bitch face, I kind of yearned to do it again. I clenched my fingers around my arm to keep from lifting my shirtsleeve. My body was on fire with more emotions than I could handle, and I felt the old, familiar urge send my insides into a tailspin.

  “Spill it,” Miss J. said.

  “You said you’d tell me why you were proof that if someone wanted something bad enough they couldn’t let anything stand in their way. What did you mean? What happened?”

  She went to the small refrigerator that sat to the side of the room, pulled out a cold diet drink, and handed it to me. “Put this on your face.”

  I did, wincing as the cold made my skin scream.

  “Why do you want to know?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Because. I get one step forward but it’s always two steps back. Always. I need some inspiration here.”

  The room was quiet except for the loud whir of the school’s heating system. She watched me as I watched her. I could almost see her mind flipping between excuses and the truth.

  Finally she said, “I was molested when I was little. By my uncle. No one believed me when I told. There.” She slapped her palms on the desk.

  “My God. That’s awful.”

  “Yes. It was awful. But I survived. And here I am. I have managed to be a happy person despite what my childhood was like. That’s what I want for you as well, Rowan. And I know you can do that. You are more, so muc
h more, than your family.”

  “How long did it last?”

  Her jaw clenched, and I wasn’t sure she would answer me. “Five years.”

  “I’m sorry.” My voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “Well, it’s over and I’ve moved on. It took time. It took therapy, which I highly recommended for you, as you know. And it took determination not to let that identify and shape my future. I moved past it, Rowan, and so can you.”

  Another thirty minutes passed with us talking in low voices. Trina was barely mentioned.

  When I finally got up from the chair, I felt more drained and exhausted than I had ever felt. In one hand was an excuse slip for missing class and in the other was the soda. It had grown warm against my skin but felt amazing on my dry throat. After all of that talking, I needed it.

  Last year if something like this had happened, I would’ve run into the girls’ bathroom, razor vibrating in my pocket. But this time I walked right past it to my next class. I yearned for that release except I was too depleted to give in to the urge.

  Miss J. had overcome more than I could’ve imagined. Was I destined for a future where I kept falling over myself as I tried to stand on my own two feet? With my family and my past trailing me like a foul odor? Or was I destined to let it go? To forgive and if not forget, move beyond it?

  I didn’t know the answers, but I spent the rest of the day thinking and not paying one bit of attention to what my teachers said.

  “HEY, RO.” Mike called just as I was walking to my car. It was a welcome respite to hear his voice after such a long day even if it was over the phone. “How are you?”

  “Um, good.” I dug through my bag until I found my keys.

  “How was school?” His voice seemed foreign to me all of a sudden, as if the weird places my mind traveled today were places where he didn’t exist. And now I was trying to come back into a world that had Mike in it.

  “It was fine. Nothing too crazy.” But that wasn’t true, was it? “What are you up to?”

  “Just got back from practice. It was a tough workout today. We had a new trainer that kicked our butts.”

  “Why do you have a new trainer?” I slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  “Coach says we’re out of shape. This spring he has us in double the tournaments than any other year plus regular season games. He’s determined to have us play so much soccer we play in our sleep.”

  We both knew what that meant, but neither of us brought it up.

  “Well, you’re already in great shape. I can’t imagine the trainer can do too much to help you.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised. The trainer’s name is Rob, but he has this assistant named Suzie, and man, she really gives it to us hard.”

  “You have a female trainer?” And she gives it to you hard?

  “Yeah. She graduated from the sports medicine program two years ago and is helping out on the side. She says she needs more experience.”

  “Why do you know so much about her?” I cringed as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

  He laughed. “Cause she kicks my butt every day. She’s in charge of the freshmen, and since there are only five of us on the team, there’s plenty of time to talk between sets.”

  Plenty of time to talk, he says. Well, I was glad he had time to talk to her. He certainly didn’t have time to talk to me.

  “I gotta go,” I said.

  “What? Why?”

  “I just have to go.”

  “Wait a minute. When do you expect to hear from the colleges? I can’t remember when those letters come.”

  “Not yet.” I tried hard not to snap.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ll get in. Then you can be up here with me.”

  I pulled at my earring. “Yeah. That sounds good. Or there might be another school that offers me more financial aid. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Nah. You’ll come here. I’m sure they’ll offer aid. You need to be here with me.”

  “Why, Mike?” My voice echoed my frustration. And once the words started, I found I couldn’t stop. “It’s not like we see each other now. What does it matter what school I go to? You’ll be so busy with soccer we’ll still never see each other.” Irritation colored my words.

  “We could see each other more. Isn’t that the point?” His own words were clipped, short.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to fight with him. We saw each other so rarely and hardly spoke to each other as it was. Fighting wasn’t how I wanted to spend our phone conversations.

  “Sorry. It’s just been a long day,” I said.

  “Is everything okay?” His voice softened. He knew my history, and I loved that no matter what, he was always concerned about me. He usually had good reason to be.

  I thought about Jess, Dad, Trina, how lonely I was. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Just a couple of things going on.”

  “Like what?”

  Some invisible wall kept me from speaking. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like there was anything I could say to him that would be surprising. He knew I came with a lot of issues; that was really how we’d gotten together. He had come to my rescue last spring like a knight in shining armor. I owed him honesty and openness.

  So I took a deep breath, ready to force myself to launch into everything that was going on, but he started talking to someone in the background.

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he was saying.

  “Do you have to go?” My heart fell to the floor.

  “I do. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he said, “Love ya,” and hung up. I sat in the parking lot for a long time, thinking, and trying not to think all at the same time.

  I DROVE toward the interstate. The animal shelter was in the opposite direction, but I wasn’t due at work until five o’clock. I hadn’t been on the schedule for a few days and it would be nice to be back among the animals. Before I went to work, I had just enough time to get to the small college the next town over, the one Miss J. encouraged me to apply to, and the one I doubted I had much chance of being accepted into.

  To get there, I had to drive a winding road that circled up a mountain like a snake. It would be difficult to get to school if the weather was bad, but that couldn’t be a concern now. I might not even like this college despite Miss J.’s conviction that I would.

  Finally, the campus loomed before me. It was a small school, but it seemed huge to me. There was a large brick arch that read Berkeley Mountain College in black iron letters right at the peak. I drove through it and was on the campus. There was an empty parking space so I pulled into it, taking a minute in my warm car to look around.

  From this vantage point there were six buildings, all brick, and all looked to be four stories high. There were tall, black iron signs placed around to point students and visitors into the direction they wanted. Student union? Straight ahead. Library? Make a right. Biology lab? Go left.

  There was a large, flat grassy area to my left that I would walk through each time I headed to class since all the parking seemed to be on the right side of the campus. In the middle of this was a water fountain, now off for the winter. Several students sat along the short wall that enclosed it even though the day was cold.

  Other students walked between the buildings across the wide green lawn, or sat on benches huddled in their winter coats. Miss J. had tried several times to get me to visit this college, but I had never given it much credibility. For one thing, it only took students who were smarter than me and who had far more money than I did. And I didn’t think a liberal arts college would have a good enough biology program to get me into veterinary school. Miss J. said that it was a stellar program, though, and even offered classes on zoology and animal nutrition. Finally, it wasn’t the university where Mike was. Suddenly, though, it seemed like a possibility…

  I stepped out of the car. I put my hands in my pockets as I vee
red left toward the biology building. Groups of students piled out of the main entrance, backpacks slung over shoulders.

  “That lecture was amazing.”

  “I love how eccentric she is, always carrying those little umbrellas.”

  “I’m going to sign up for that extra lab. What about you?”

  Their voices faded into the afternoon as they walked away. I changed my mind mid-stride and followed them at a distance, close enough to hear their voices, but not what they were saying as they headed toward the student union. When we came to the entrance, they walked in. I stopped near a group of students standing around a guy playing the guitar.

  He sat on the highest of the five long steps that led into the building, off toward the side so people could get past if they wanted to. I stopped at the bottom and leaned against the railing, listening.

  He was playing an eclectic mix of familiar bluegrass and what sounded like Spanish guitar, similar to what I had heard in class last semester. It was by far the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. If I could listen to music like this every moment of my life, surely there would be no pain—no past, present, or future. Just the beauty of the music.

  I didn’t know enough about guitars to describe the music he was making. The only thing I could think was that it was mesmerizing. Haunting. Insanely beautiful.

  If there was tension in my body it was gone by the time he stopped playing. My eyes were closed, and when I opened them he was watching me from the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. My cheeks were covered in tears, and I looked away as the group started to leave.

  I tensed and turned my back when he started coming down the steps.

  Please don’t stop and talk to me. Please.

  I felt him hovering behind me, just to the side of my right shoulder. I turned and glanced up. “I’m sorry. That was amazing,” I choked. Then I laughed, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Music should move you. I’m just glad it was my music that did.”

  Warmth spread across my cheeks. “You are very talented.”