Chapter 6

-

After leaving the movie theatre that night to an empty mall, the lot of us had a grand ol’ time, more than one would expect of a closed shopping center. After riding the racecars and fire engines for a quarter a pop, Talulah bet Ashlee that he couldn’t fit his six foot self into a kid’s helicopter ride. As I force-fed a dollar into a Coke machine, Ashlee proceeded to get himself stuck, of course, and we spent the next ten minutes unlacing his shoes to help him fit back out. He won five dollars off Talulah for that stunt.

Next, we moved through the darkened mall past a lingerie store, where Ashlee wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips close to my ears, whispering:

“Would you ever wear that Mrs. Claus suit for me?”

I laughed quite loudly, as Talulah, Hilary, and Hilary’s sister were scoping out shoes from the store across the way.

“No, I’m serious,” Ashlee went on, and I chuckled some more.

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are,” I replied, wriggling free of his hold around me, not liking the feeling of being surrendered to him. “That’s why I’m laughing.”

“What if I bought it for you?”

“Wouldn’t wear it, sorry.”

He seemed disappointed, which I found amusing.

We soon came upon the center of the mall, which had a huge two-story carousel in it, with only a short fence around it. Talulah was the first to hop the fence and race up to a zebra on the second story. Me, feeling bold with Ashlee and Talulah around, tried to hop the fence too, but found I was a bit too short. Ashlee immediately climbed to the other side, and grabbed my underarms like I was a child, and lifted me over with him. He lost his balance a bit, which I deemed a convenient ploy, since I fell into his arms and he was able to hold me for a good moment. He started to lean in for a kiss, and I panicked and drew away.

When Talulah called after me, I found it another good excuse to avoid Ashlee’s hold and run to mount a buckskin horse, while he found a black horse beside me.

“I’ll race you,” I joked, flicking the reins of my horse and bouncing in the saddle like a jockey. He did the same, as I laughed and rambled on like an announcer:

“Over the hill pass, she’s coming around, she’s coming around, with boy blue taking up a close second, they’re nose and nose, it’s gonna be a close one folks…”

“Go Boy Blue!” Talulah called out like a bleachers fan from the second story. “Move your bloomin’ arse!”

“And Boy Blue wins!” Ashlee called out, raising a fist in the air. I whipped his plastic horse on the butt with my reins.

“No way, I totally had you on that last turn,” I argued, which I seemed to do a lot of with Ashlee.

“And the boy wins a victory kiss…” Ashlee cooed, leaning in again. He was nothing if not determined. I put a hand to his mouth and pushed him back.

“No, he doesn’t,” I countered.

I wasn’t ready to kiss this boy I barely knew. I was barely adjusting to the fact that he was interested in me at all. Not to mention he was reminding me a little too much of an immature version of Ryder, and it was creeping me out.

After we grew tired of the carousel, we found an empty AT&T kiosk, which Talulah tried to enter and act like a salesman, except… we didn’t know there was an alarm. After the loud beeping blared through the echoing mall like a siren, the five of us took off running to the parking lot before the security guard could come running after us.

After a few races with abandoned shopping carts around the empty parking lot, I got a call. It was a familiar ringtone of dreary Beethoven’s Fifth to signify the dread of a text from Trent. Finding it odd he would try and contact me at close to five in the morning, I checked my inbox quickly.

“Talulah, we’ve got to go,” I said quickly. “Trent’s having a kid crisis.”

Talulah checked her phone.

“He didn’t text me,” she stated. “He probably just needs you. Go ahead and go, and Ash and I will ride home with Hilary.”

I wasn’t too cool with leaving Ashlee in the hands of Hilary, who was starting to make the eyes at him, or with going to Trent’s house without Talulah, but if Trent was sucking up his pride enough to ask for my help, I knew it was only decent to oblige.

-

I didn’t know what to expect when I got there. I noticed that Danny’s Jetta wasn’t in the driveway, and I could hear the baby crying from inside. I ran up, not even bothering to knock, and entered the house.

I saw little Wyatt crying in his playpen, while Trent was sprawled out on the couch surrounded by college textbooks and a cloud of strange smelling smoke.

“Oh, my God, Trent!” I exclaimed after I surveyed the scene. “Are you smoking weed?”

“I’m trying to study,” he mumbled. “The kid won’t be quiet.”

I quickly grabbed Wyatt and moved his playpen into another room. Then I went back into the living room and slapped Trent upside the head.

“I am calling child services in the morning,” I declared. “This is totally unacceptable, Trenton Wilder. Talulah was right about this.”

“Why do you think I called you?” Trent said, sitting up. “I need some help, Jonnie Sinclair. I want to keep this kid.”

“Not like this, you don’t.” I grabbed his bag of crushed marijuana and I went outside and threw it over the fence. Then I grabbed a fan and some Fabreze and started to attack the offensive smoke.

“Get up!” I commanded Trent. “Go take a shower! Don’t come out until you get your act together.”

I was sounding dangerously like my mother. Trent was surprisingly obedient. I didn’t see him again for another hour, while I called my mom for advice. She wasn’t happy about being woken up so late… or early, technically, but she proved very helpful, especially since I left out the part about Trent being high. Next, I went to the store and got some baby foods, and some small baby spoons, and even a high chair. I was still feeding Wyatt when Trent emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed and looking very sober. He came and sat next to me in the kitchen, not speaking, probably out of embarrassment.

“Still going to call child services?” he asked.

“I should,” I replied, as Wyatt spat up some of his applesauce all over himself. I took the bib I had made out of a kitchen towel and wiped his mouth. “I don’t think you get how huge a responsibility this is.”

“No, I do,” Trent retorted. “He’d been asleep for a good hour before I took the hit. When he woke up, I knew I was too far-gone and that’s when I texted you. See? At least I know when I need help… and it’s not going to happen again.”

“Why were you smoking in the first place?” I asked harshly.

“I hate reality.”

“Well, so do I, but you don’t see me hitting on Mary Jane.”

I had no sympathy for him, though I knew my actions signified otherwise. I was letting him get his way, just like everyone else. Trent took a moment to sigh and shake his head with aggravation.

“I’ve heard the ‘you have no morals’ speech before, Jons, just in case you forgot.”

Suddenly, I was on my feet, my face fierce and my hands clenched in fists.

“Don’t call me that, Wilder…”

“What?” Trent said, sitting up straight and genuinely confused.

“Don’t call me ‘Jons’. That was Ryder’s name for me.”

Trent snickered.

“Just like his name for Monika was ‘Mons’… and this girl Emily was ‘Ems’… Yeah, real special.”

Tears came to my eyes at his gall and insensitivity, once again.

“How dare you. Don’t you ruin Ryder’s memory for me.”

“No, he ruined it himself,” Trent shot back, and baby Wyatt looked back and forth at us with large eyes, but remained quiet. “You make Ryder out to be some saint just because he’s dead, but I’ll have you know he was just as bad as me back in the day. So you want to get on me for my moral standards, get on your precious Ryder first.”

I shook my head.

“Stop, Trent, just stop.”

“No, I won’t stop. You obviously need to hear this. If you’re going to mourn over Ryder, then love him for what he really was.”

Trent shoved a magazine on the table away from him, just to get out aggression. I knew in my heart Trent was right, but I wasn’t ready to give up my shrine of Ryder just yet. Trent knew Ryder better than anyone. And if I could accept Ryder so fully for what he was, why couldn’t I accept Trent? Because Trent was different. He treated women badly, and had no heart for others.

Except for Ryder… I recalled that night when Ryder’s father had come, and Trent was defending Ryder in an instant. Ryder had probably meant the world to Trent too.

Suddenly, a wave of regret came over me, looking at Trent and his hair falling in his eyes like some emo kid in a movie.

“You know, we used to be friends…” I lamented in a very low voice.

“I used to smile too,” Trent put out.

We sat and gathered our breath, even though we had made no real breakthroughs, I knew we were somehow on the verge. The baby pounded his high chair with his palms, gurgling at us. I looked at Trent.

“What memory of him do you think about most?”

The intensity of the moment subsided as Trent took a second to think, then chuckled to himself.

“You know…” Trent pulled back. “When he was talking about you, actually. We were on the living room couch watching Robot Chicken and I asked ‘why you’.”

I perked up with real interest.

“What did he say?”

“He said, he didn’t really know. But he enjoyed finding out. That there was something about you that drew him close. Then he went on some tangent about not caring that he didn’t have sex with you, because it wasn’t about that, and I made fun of him for it.”

Trent pushed his hair back and looked at me straight.

“He really loved you…”

I nodded.

“I know. I felt the same way.”

I took a moment’s pause.

“What memory do you think about?” Trent asked me. I smiled and giggled.

“When he used to sing to me.”

“Oh, yeah, he loved to play his guitar and sing. Especially to jazz music when he could act like a lounge singer--”

“And he would always do that little dance--”

“And his favorite one to put on repeat was always--”

“BOBBY CALDWELL!” we laughed together. Trent got up and started to dance, imitating Ryder’s old way in an exaggerated manner.

“‘In my world, only you… Make me do for love, what I would not do…’” he sang. I got up and waved him to step aside.

“No, it was more like this… ‘I came back to let you know… got a thing for you, and I won’t let go…”

Soon Trent and I were laughing, singing and dancing together well into the night. It was great fun, thinking of Ryder in such a fond way, instead of the thought of him making me burst into tears. It was a welcome change.

-

Sadly, this is where I put the story on indefinite HAITUS. I can’t stand to write when it only brings me sadness. Writing is my escape, my means of happiness. For now, I abandon this trek to pursue other endeavors. I promise though, this will not be the last you see of Jonnie. Please review.
Signed,
--RedRogue55
PS. Please, my most loyal fans, support me in my new story “Green Eyes”, if you have the time. Thanks.