Waves, Stars, and Other Things to Catch

Part 6

“Tomorrow,” I repeated hollowly.  We were outside the mini-mart, since Seth had taken the phone away and told us we couldn’t use it again without buying something else.  And since we were down to our last dollar, I wasn’t sure it was a risk we wanted to take. 

“Yeah,” Ford said, shaking his head.  He held out his hand, palm up, and I gave him three sour watermelon slices.  “Apparently, if we’d just locked the keys in the car, it’s an easy fix.  But to get the trunk open, they’ll have to drill, and the guy with the drill isn’t available until tomorrow morning.  I told him where we were anyway, but . . .”  he shrugged. 

I nodded, trying not to freak out.  I was suddenly regretting that we’d spent most of our money on snacks.  I wasn’t sure what we would have done with six dollars as opposed to five, but still, in retrospect, it wasn’t seeming like the best choice.  I looked at Ford, hoping he had some sort of a plan.  When he just ate his watermelon slices slowly, one after the other—Ford usually tossed down sour gummies by the handful—I got the impression that maybe he was still working things out.  “Well, my dad or Bruce might still come by,” I said, and I could hear in my voice how I was straining to be upbeat, find the bright side.  “So there’s that.”

Ford nodded.  “They’ll know where to find the car,” he said.  “Even if they can’t call us back.”

“So . . .” I started.  I wasn’t quite sure, but it sounded like we should probably head back to the car, in case either of our fathers showed up.  And in the morning, the AAA guy would be there.  But did that mean I was going to spend all night in a car with Ford?  Before I could ask him, or even start to wrap my head around this, he was pointing down the highway, in the opposite direction of where we’d left the car. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a garage down that way,” he said.  “If nothing else, I think we have to try.  They might have a way to get the trunk open.  Or at the very least, they could tow us back home.”

I nodded.  “Sounds good,” I said.  It was totally dark now, the stars bright above us and reflecting down on the water that was so close, just across the highway and over the guardrail.  I tried to focus on the hopeful tone of Ford’s voice, and not listen to the voice of reason that was quietly pointing out—in a British accent, for some reason—that Malibu garages were probably closed by now.  After all, Ford knew this area much better than I did.  Maybe there was an all-night garage and towing service that he knew about. 

We started walking down the road together in silence, and I held out my Slurpee cup to him. He gave me a half smile and took a long drink.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I needed that.”

“So what do you think was on Seth’s phone?” I asked, nudging Ford with my shoulder.  “I mean, he really didn’t want us looking at it.”

Ford laughed.  “I was thinking the same thing,” he said.  “That seemed beyond normal phone protectiveness.”  We walked next to each other in silence for a moment, and I just breathed it all in—the crash of the close waves, the warm night air, the stars above, and Ford next to me, the Slurpee cup passing back and forth between us.  It was certainly not the night I’d expected, or one I would have chosen, but I was suddenly glad that if I had to be doing this with anyone, it was him. 

We rounded a bend, saw some lights in the distance, and I felt some hope flair in my chest, before I saw that it was the neon sign of a fast-food place—the Maliburger.  That seemed to be the only other business still open, and I looked around for the garage Ford had mentioned. Maybe it was further down the highway? 

Ford pointed to the building next to the burger place and I now saw the sign that read Al’s Garage­—with all the lights off, and the tow truck parked in front of the building.  “Ruh-roh,” Ford said, and I smiled at this.

“You can say that again.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me.  “Gem, can I borrow that dollar?”

“Sure,” I said after a second, totally confused.  I took it out of my pocket and handed it to him.  “Want the nineteen cents as well?”

“Nah, this is all I need,” he said.  He pocketed it, then nodded to the burger place, giving me a half smile.  “Buy you some fries?”

Ten minutes later, we were walking back up the highway toward the car, the bag of warm, delicious-smelling fries in my hand.  We’d used the Maliburger counter employee’s phone to call both our dads again, and leave still more messages.  But after we’d done that, there hadn’t seemed to be much to do but head back.  We’d made a tacit arrangement to not eat the fries until we were back in the car, because out here in the darkness, it would have been totally possible to eat all of them, or take out the best ones without the other one seeing. 

“Did you ever get any better at your constellations?” Ford asked after a few minutes of walking in companionable silence.   He nodded up at the sky, which was filled with stars and the winking, moving lights of the occasional plane.  “I remember you telling me you were going to learn them all.”

I looked over at him.  What was he talking about?  “When did I—?” and then the force of a memory that I usually tried not to think about hit me like a punch to the gut.