Page 15 of I Hear You

“It’s okay Taylor, I promise. You weren’tthatloud,” I say with a knowing grin.

“Oh Jesus,” she says, hanging her head in her hands.

Now I do laugh. I’m not trying to make her feel bad, but it is kind of hilarious how embarrassed she is. I just hope she knows I’m only teasing and not making fun of her. And I hope she doesn’t know what I did last night laying in my own bed.

“Seriously, Taylor, it’s not a big deal, I promise. I’m only teasing you. And your boyfriend is welcome here any time.”

“Thanks for being so cool. But, I promise it was a one-time thing. Jesse has his own room at his apartment, so there’s no reason for us to put you in that position again. I was just drunk and, well… it sounded like fun being in a new place,” she admits, her cheeks turning pink again. “Plus, Jesse is like five million feet tall and he won’t be able to walk for a week after spending just one night in my tiny bed.”

“Jesse?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah. My boyfriend. Wait, Did I never even tell you his name?”

I shake my head. Wondering silently if it could be the Jesse who works at the bus station. But that would be too strange, right?

“Well, I’m headed over to his place now. We’re gonna spend the day together since neither of us has work and we’ll probably be super busy next week for the first week of classes. But, since I have an eight a.m. class tomorrow, I’ll be here when you get back from work. But, hey, why don’t you give me your number, and maybe we should keep each other updated if we’re not gonna be staying in the dorm room. That way, if you meet a hot guy and stay at his place, I don’t think you’ve been kidnapped by an ax-wielding psycho who’s going to chop you into pieces.”

She’s laughing, but man, this girl loves her true crime and horror. She passes me her phone, and I put my number in, texting myself so I have hers too. She grabs her purse and heads out as I pull out the syllabus for Monday’s creative writing class. It looks like one of our first assignments is to write a three-thousand-word story about a character who overcomes adversity. Wondering if I should just write the story about my own life, I start doodling mindlessly. I’m not sure I’ve actually overcome anything. I feel like all I’ve been doing these past few years is surviving and shouldn’t I be thriving to have overcome anything?

Surprisingly not feeling in the mood to write, I pull out the syllabus for my historical literature class and start reading the chapters the professor assigned for this week.

Chapter six

Henderson

IfeelhungoverandI didn’t even drink last night. I slept like complete garbage. Tossing and turning all night, replaying every moment I was with Madison yesterday. Every time our hands touched. Every smile she aimed at me. The warm color of her golden eyes. The fullness of her lips. After all these years, I met Mads in real life and I didn’t even know it was her. I want to go back. I want a do-over.

Madison is even more beautiful than I’ve been imagining her and a million times more sexy. She’s tall with a lot of curves and has hair just dying to be wrapped up in my fingers and gently pulled on. Her laugh consumed me and I didn’t even understand why. All the feelings I had seem validated now, knowing who she really is. Knowing the closeness I felt to her was because I have been close to her–for years.Close to her heart, her words, her mind.

The bell from the sports store door chimes, interrupting my daydreaming. A mom and her two boys are heading toward the counter.

“How can I help you?” I ask, pushing all thoughts of Mads away and being grateful I’m standing behind this counter because I’m pretty sure my pants are doing a horrible job of hiding the semi I have.

“Yes, I placed an order for new baseball cleats for the boys and got a call that they were ready,” the woman tells me.

I find her order in a stack of boxes behind the counter and ring her up. This is the first customer that’s walked through the door all day and I’ve been here for four hours. Sometimes I think Mr. Grissom has me open early on Saturdays and Sundays because he thinks it keeps me from partying. Little does he know I haven’t drunk a single beer in over a year. Cheap beer isn’t worth the risk when getting caught drinking would violate my probation terms, which I thankfully only have six months left of. But, today is my monthly check-in at the probation office. Mr. Grissom should be here any minute so my shift can end.

Right on time, the door chimes and he comes schlepping in. He throws a Sunday newspaper down on the counter and points his thumb at the door, letting me know I’m good to get out of here. Mr. Grissom’s a man of very few words, but I appreciate that about him. I grab my gym bag from the back room and head to the parking lot. The probation office is on the other side of town, but I’ve got half an hour before my check-in time, so I take the scenic route. Patsy Cline’s “Walkin After Midnight” starts playing through the speakers after I hit shuffle on my music.

Mads told me once she and her dad loved 50s music and Patsy Cline was one of her favorites. During one of our late night back and forth emailing sessions, she made me promise to download some songs. A few of the ones she suggested made it into permanent rotation on my playlists. Jesse and Emmett give me shit sometimes when they come on. I just lie and say I have them on there for my mom. I turn up the song and close my eyes at the red light and imagine Madison swaying in my arms to this song. Imagine running my hand through her soft brown hair and down her back. Our bodies pushed flush against each other, her head on my shoulder.

A horn from behind me pulls me out of my fantasy and I hit the gas to pull through the intersection. I can’t keep fantasizing about her like this. Last night when I couldn’t sleep, I made my decision. I’m not going to tell her who I am. Clearly, she wants nothing to do with me since she hasn’t responded to my emails in almost a year. Sure, we now live in the same town and go to the same college, but I can at least try to avoid her. And if I run into her, I know how to be polite but keep my distance. Plus, what’s the point of telling her who I am? She'll probably go so far as to transfer schools just to get away from me.

I pull into the probation office parking lot and find a space near the entrance. When I make it inside, I take a seat in a row of chairs against the wall and wait for my officer to call me back. By the looks of it, I’m the youngest person in here, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t intimidated by some of the other people waiting in chairs next to me. Luckily, I only got stuck spending one night in a holding cell when everything happened and I was all alone because I was still a minor. The feeling of being caged in, not free to leave whenever I wanted, was still enough to make me want to pull my hair out. Plus, having to go to the bathroom out in the open was something I never want to experience again.

“Henderson Adler!” I hear from an office down the hall. I get up and make my way down there to see Officer Gatlin sitting behind his desk with a small plastic container held out to me. “Need a sample, Adler,” he says without even looking up at me.

I take the container and head to the bathroom. Pissing in a plastic cup should be something I’m used to by now. I’ve been doing it once a month for the past six months.

After I fill the cup and drop the sample off, I head back into Officer Gatlin's office. I take my usual spot in one of the plastic chairs in front of his desk and lean back into it, getting comfortable. Sometimes these check-ins take five minutes, sometimes I’m here for half an hour. The longer visits aren’t any different from the short ones. Gatlin usually just shuffles around papers and makes me sit in silence and then randomly excuses me. I wonder if it’s some type of psychological tactic. That or he’s just lonely and likes the company.

“So, Adler, are you staying out of trouble?” He asks with a hint of a smile.

He knows I am. Officer Gatlin is actually pretty cool and is half the reason I only have six months of probation left. He pleaded my case to the judge and got my probation term reduced from five years to just one.

I nod my head.

“Yup, just working, going to practice, and getting ready for classes that start this week.”

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