Fools

Growth

Chapter 4

As if things couldn’t get any weirder once I shower, dress, and go downstairs I can make out the smell of burned toast. “I don’t remember having bread in my house.” 

Florence looks up from the book in her hands. “My house did. You eat too many poptarts you’ll become a poptart. And take your pills.” How she was able to say that with a straight face was beyond me. I couldn’t. 

I chuckle as I grab a piece of toast. “Well thank you for watching out for my health. Bus coming?” 

She nods. I grab her bag and toss it over my shoulder. “Gimme my bag.” 

“I got it, it weighs like two pounds.” 

“It weighs ten. What are guys affected differently by weight? I thought weight was a constant, not something up for debate.”

“Most definitely. I might have to kill you now that you know our secret.”

She rolls her eyes, pale red hairs getting caught in her eyelashes. Florence bats it away with the annoyance that seems ingrained in all women. “Sure. Like you could.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as we reach the bus stop. 

“You’re too soft.”

“Soft?”

“Soft.” She nods.

“What do you mean?” 

She leans against the stop sign, looking up at me. “You’re not intrinsically violent or rude or mean. Just not you. I can’t think of many men who’d put up with what you have.” My head began to tilt in confusion, but then she says, “With Grace. Not many guys would put up with that.”

“Not like I have a choice. You don’t pick who you love.” The bus pulled up to the stop, and the group of students filed onto the bus. I didn’t quite hear what Florence said as she snatched her bag off my shoulder, but what I heard was,

“Yes you do.” Is what I hear, the whispered words with with sighs at my stupidity. 

“What?” I look over at her as she sits in the squishy seat beside me. Her head shakes slightly, lips sealing shut, refusing to tell me. 

“You shouldn’t furrow your brow like that. Wrinkles aren’t cute this young.” 

“Huh?” I look at her. She isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at the black floor dusted brown by the refuse from the years of shoes that have stepped on it. 

“Nothing. Don’t, just don’t furrow your brow like that. It causes wrinkles.”

A smile grew on my lips, the spattering of clouds in my head dissipating for the moment. “Prove it.” 

“Give me your email and I’ll send you the source.” I could see the smile on her face even if I couldn’t see her face. I settle against the seat, a smile on my lips because there was a smile on her lips because of me. 

When the bus reaches school it all falls apart. Florence dissipates into the air. One second beside me, next gone. I look for her, for the flash of her hair, but she’s gone. I try to hide my disappointment and walk to Grace. 

“Jesus why are you wearing that? Did you not get my text?” I look down at the clothes Florence picked out for me. 

“What do you mean?”

Her eye roll stops me. “I mean the fucking text I sent you. I told you to wear your green button up. Jesus you’re so dense.” 

“Grace, I left my phone at home ok? Calm down.” 

“Excuse me? Me calm down. I was going to get our pictures taken for my parents!”

I catch her elbow and pull her away from her crowd of friends. “What so you can use me to cover up what you actually do?”

“What I actually do? Oh tell me, what do I actually do?” 

I let go of her elbow. “You know exactly what you do. You know it hurts me, and you don’t care.” And I walk away. The first time I’ve walked away from her lies. From her. And I felt… I felt good. Florence did have a point, I did have control of something. Maybe not over the fact I loved Grace, but I could control how she treated me. 

I wanted to find Florence and tell her about how I did it, about what I did. I wanted someone to be proud of me. But I didn’t see her that day. Not in the halls, not at lunch, nowhere. I didn’t see her until I got on the bus to see her in sitting against the window. 

“Hey. Where were you today?” I ask as I sit beside her, my legs in the aisle because with her feet against the window she takes up half the seat. 

“Class. You know where I’m supposed to be.” 

“I didn’t see you at lunch.”

“I was taking a test.” I didn’t like her tone, it was distant. I don’t get why she’s acting like this again. But before I can say anything to her, she’s off the bus along with the rest of the people who get off at this stop. She’s in her house before I can stop her. I didn’t even get to tell her about standing up to Grace today. 

I pick up my phone and call Grace. “Hello?” I hear her voice. It almost sounds like when I first met her. Nice. Quaint. “Hello? Who is this?”

“It’s me, um Trey.”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to…talk. See if you wanted to go out tonight.”

“No. Why would I want to go out with someone who ignores me, then blows up at me for no reason in front of like everyone.”

“I didn’t blow up.” I pulled her to the side to talk to her this morning, I didn’t blow up.

“Yes you did! You were screaming at me about all sorts of stuff. Me cheating, treating you bad. Like what the fuck Trey?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t do that.”

“Yes you did. Everyone saw. It was embarrassing.”

“Grace I didn’t.”

“Whatever Trey. I didn’t sign up for this. You treating me like this. You’re so forgetful, you don’t remember anything. You’ve just gotten worse and worse about it.”

“Yes I do.”

“Do you remember us having this conversation at lunch?”

“No. I don’t. I was looking for Florence at lunch.”

“Florence? Who?”

“She has red hair. Quiet. Pain on her hands. Freckles, pale. Lives next door to me.”

“What?” The phone clicks off. I am left with silence.

“Grace? Grace?” I try to call her back so we can talk. She doesn’t answer. I try all evening. But she ignores each call. Each text. Florence’s light isn’t on. I don’t know where she is. I think she’s getting her car. It should be fixed. Maybe I won’t have to ride the bus. Now I wish I had her number. Or at least her email.

I don’t though. So I go next door. Mrs. Lemieux answers the door. “Hi Trey, how are you?”

“Is Florence home?”

“No. No dear. She’s not. Has your dad been home?”

“No ma’am. Not for a while. Tell her to stop by when she gets home. Thank you ma’am.”

She nods and smiles. “Yes, well, I will. Goodbye. Have a nice evening.”

“You too Mrs. Lemieux.” I walk back into my house and go to my room. Staring at the ceiling is very appealing.