Check, Please?

Chapter 13

The black sheet fell off of my tiny, rusty, old Volvo.  The red paint was almost completely gone at this point, but even through the rust that crusted the doors and hood I could see the deep red color that the car used to be.  What remained of the windshield was coated so heavily in dirt that you couldn’t see through it, but enough of it was cracked and missing that you could see into the front seat of the car where I had so many memories…

My feet carried me forward.  I didn’t know what I was doing.  I was in shock.  At a loss for words.  Unable to take my eyes from the crunched-up metal in front of me.  In front of everyone.  There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t know what it was.  They all watched me as I approached the stage and climbed the stairs.  I didn’t blink as I studied the rotting frame of the car and the decaying front seats over the torn up and dusty dashboard.  I ran my finger gently over the harsh rust that disguised the door handle.

“It’s a piece of art.  A reminder for the current students and future students at BSHS,” Therese was saying, but I didn’t hear a word of it.  I was sinking too far into the memory of that night – the party.  I had hidden the memory so far in the back of my mind that I was struggling to remember… whose party was it?

I hadn’t noticed that Harry followed me up to the stage. “Where did you get this?” He hissed under his breath at Therese, trying to turn her away so that they didn’t fight right there on the stage in front of the crowd.

“Where it’s been since her accident… the junkyard, duh.” Therese pushed past Harry and grabbed the microphone again. “Let’s all thank the artist for her contribution, shall we? Scotlan Ray, everyone!”

Therese clapped ecstatically.  I still didn’t know what to feel or say.  Check, please?  I thought.  Timeout?  I looked sideways slowly at Harry who was standing on the other end of the car, watching… waiting… worry flashed across his eyes. “Scotty?” He whispered.  He started to reach his hand out to me, but the look on my face made him stop and lower his hand.

I lifted my toes up and spun around slowly on my heels to look at the group of students I graduated with.  I was a little bit relieved to see that Therese was the only one clapping. The disturbed looks on the faces of my other fellow students was almost comforting.  Therese expected everyone to point and laugh at the depressing pile of car that represented my high school years, but no one did.  Maybe they had a little more sympathy for me than I always thought they did.  My arm trembled as I held out my hand for the microphone.  Therese was thrown off by my action but quickly passed it to me.

I breathed slowly as I scanned all of the faces in the crowd.  I was finally beginning to recognize everyone.  People from my classes, people I sat with at lunch, people I saw at the convenience store after school… They knew me too.  They knew what happened to me and my little red Volvo. 

“I…” My voice was shaky. “That’s the shittiest artwork I’ve ever seen… but I’m glad the school has it now.  I hope no one ever has to go through what I did.”

Harry’s warm hand slipped around my lower back.  He kissed me lightly on my temple, distracting me as he took the microphone from my hands and passed it back to Therese. “You’re a bitch,” he said to her, looking her dead in the eyes and not letting go of the microphone until she stared back into his. “You’re an immature little girl.  When will you realize that this isn’t a game anymore?”

Harry had spoken the trigger words.  The first part of the memory flashed in front of my eyes.

“When will you realize that this isn’t a game anymore, Scotlan?!” My mother screamed. A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at me from across the kitchen.  I sat coolly at kitchen table, staring at my horrible grades and her bottle of vodka that I had just finished. I had never heard her so upset in her life.  She wasn’t angry at me.  She was upset because of me.  “Do you really think that all of this drinking and sleeping around and not caring in school is going to matter next year?  College isn’t going to want you if your grades are in the toilet!  This is real life, Scotlan!”