Chapter 9

"I thought I might find you here."

Sedgewick turned to see Allison. She stood in the entryway to the gallery, taking in the spacious room and vibrant artwork on the white walls. She was wearing one of Sedgewick's sweaters. He smiled at the floor.

"I like this one." He pointed to it and she walked over, her steps echoing. "I like the color, and I like how he's stretched in all these directions, not quite sure which way is up and which way he's going."

"How do you know it's a he?"

"I guess I don't."

They both stared at the painting, taking it in.

"Did you get breakfast and everything okay this morning?"

"No, your grandmother chased me out of the house with a broom." A sly smile spread across her face and Sedgewick startled chuckling at the image of his Gram chasing a girl out of the house with a broom. "I did manage to nab this sweater before I left."

Sedgewick's laughter turned to a sheepish grin.

"It's kind of ugly though."

"Yeah, but what are you going to do?"

They stood across from each other, in front of the pseudo-realistic painting of the stretched ambiguous gender person. Sedgewick bit his lip.

"I'm sorry I took off so quickly. It's just…" He trailed off without an answer.

"I know."

"Do you? Do you have any idea what I'm feeling?" The sudden outburst surprised both of them.

"I'm—I'm sorry." Sedgewick sighed and shook his head, trying to find the right words. "Some days I feel like my life is a walking tragedy. Most days I can forget, I can find hope in something and it makes it okay. But with your mom, it all comes flooding back and I'm right in the middle of it… again."

Allison didn't say anything.

"I just needed some time." Sedgewick sighed again, not satisfied with the words he'd chosen. He leaned against the wall and slid down to where he was sitting before. "I don't know what the time did for me."

Allison recognized his confusion and crouched in front of him.

"I've spent my time thinking about Gram and my grandfather and dad… and girls." Allison smiled, wondering about Sedgewick's romantic past.

"You need some time to think about girls?"

"I like you Allison, but--but this is an awful time for… for warm squishy feelings."

"Is that what you're feeling?"

"That and soul-crushing grief. It's a great combo."

"So you don’t know where we're going either?" Sedgewick shook his head. "Well, we're agreed on one thing then. And we both think this sweater is ugly—that's two."

"And your mom—I'm sorry about your mom."

"Me, too."

"That makes three."

"Three's pretty good."

"It's a good start."

Smiles spread. Allison looked to the floor and Sedgewick felt some his confusion lift, or at least dissipate enough that he didn't feel so lost.

"How are you doing, about your mom?"

"I just talked to my dad." Sedgewick winced.

"How'd that go?"

"He wants me home." Sedgewick nodded. "But I don't know. My dorm room is one thing, but heading back home is another. I think he wants me there until the funeral, until Thursday."

"I can see why."

"Yeah, me, too. But that doesn't make it any easier. I think I'll go up this afternoon and see how long I can take it." Sedgewick nodded and bit his lip again. "Will you be around tonight?"

"I've got to work until 10, I'll be home after that. I guess you know where to find me."

"I might need to do that." She reached out and took Sedgewick's hand. "I know we don't know what's going on here, but I still need you." She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and then Sedgewick made to get up.

"I've got class in a few minutes. I should get going." Allison nodded, still holding Sedgewick's hand.

"You running off again?" The words could have crushed him, but the smile lifted his heart.

He exhaled and said, "Yeah. Call me if you need anything." He turned to go and she held his hand, extending her arm until the last possible moment before letting go. Sedgewick smiled again, and it lifted her heart as well.

She watched him go, and then turned to look at the pseudo-realistic painting again. A few minutes later she left. She stopped off at her dorm room before heading home, and Kallie was back.

"Heading home?"

"Yeah, I think my dad needs me."

"Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not too bad. I got what I needed." It took Kallie a moment, but the smile gave it away.

"You saw Sedgewick?"

"Yeah, in one of the art galleries."

"How'd it go?"

"Well, neither of us knows what's going on, and I think we're okay with that."

"So you've decided to accept reality? That's a good first step." Allison smiled. "I can tell he's good for you—I can see a little happy in there."

"A little happy? Yeah I suppose. I'll need it."

"Do you need anything? Do you want me to come with you?"

"Oh, Kallie. You're amazing. But I think I should do this on my own." Kallie nodded, and then stepped forward to give her friend a hug.

Energized and strengthened, Allison headed for home.

The ride home would take 45 minutes or so, depending on traffic. At first Allison turned on the radio, listening to the local alt-rock station. But alt-rock didn't fit her mood. She flipped through the presets, trying a classic rock station, the oldies station and the classical station before settling on country. Allison didn't like country music, but it seemed to fit her mood just fine. She promptly tuned it out.

She wasn't as weepy as she expected to be, considering she was on her way home. She told herself it was a good thing, not wanting to have to wipe tears from her eyes and stay on the road at the same time. She also didn't want to walk in the door with puffy red eyes. She'd be that way before the night was over, but there was no need to start off that way.

Her dad was fragile, understandably so. He'd been arranging details and stowing casseroles from concerned neighbors in the fridge. He hadn't done anything but dwell on this, and Allison knew he was probably ready to collapse and drain.

Then there was Schmitty, her brother. She smiled at the thought. Nicknames began in the high school locker room and her brother Mitch hadn't been prepared. She saw it coming and threatened her teammates with great bodily harm if they called her Schmitty. She became Allie instead, a nickname that didn't stick off field. But Mitch hadn't been so lucky. As if a name like Mitch Schmidt wasn't bad enough, they dubbed him Schmitty that first season of soccer.

When he came home and slammed the door and announced to everyone that he was now Schmitty all Allison could do was laugh. He was pissed, but she could tell part of him liked it. It meant he was part of the team, that he wasn't the worst player.

"It's better than Messerschmidt, isn't it?" Schmitty punched her in the arm for using the childhood nickname. She punched him back and their parents put an end to it.

Her mom never liked how Allison and Mitch fought, and she usually blamed it on Allison. She was older and more mature and blah blah blah. Allison had that speech memorized. With a hint of sadness she realized she'd never hear it again.

Schmitty was a senior this year. The high school soccer team was actually doing well. Their mom had been to the last game on Friday night, when Allison was shopping for groceries and getting lost in the eyes of a certain stock boy. She knew Schmitty would be silent and strong, as tough as a rock. But she also knew her kid brother was in there somewhere.

Her junior year of high school she'd been getting ready for the Homecoming dance. Her mother was a buzz, as if it were a first date. But she usually went to the school dances, hanging out with her friends and dancing with the occasional sweaty-palmed boy. She loved the pageantry of it all, dressing up in some knock out dress and watching the boys' eyes pop out of their heads. On a normal school day she'd be wearing baggy pants and a ball cap pulled low over her eyes. They'd seen her on the soccer field, running like mad and plowing over opponents. She'd always feel like Cinderella when she came downstairs and her date just stared.

That night her mom was hovering, asking too many questions and checking the camera for film too often. The recently christened Schmitty had seen the Cinderella act before and didn't buy it. He usually stayed out of the way. That night he was behind the closed door of his room, probably playing video games.

The doorbell rang, sending her mom into a tizzy. In retrospect it was kind of cute. She could hear her father opening the door, shaking her date's hand with a firm, semi-menacing grip. She checked the mirror once more and smiled. She remembered thinking that night would be fun. She could hear her date's attempts at small talk downstairs with her father, and she decided to check her hair again, though it didn't need it, just to draw out the suspense.

When Glen Allen (Yeah, that was his name. Sounds like a city, doesn't it? Turns out it's a small town in Alaska.) asked Allison to homecoming it set off a buzz in the women's locker room. Glen played football but wasn't quite an all around jock. He had a sense of humor, and a sense about him that he understood what a joke high school could be. He had potential, and Allison liked that.

When she finally came down stairs her mother snapped pictures, but for the most part restrained herself. Allison kissed her dad on the cheek and gave her mother a hug.

"Be safe, dear," her mother had said and watched her Cinderella daughter head out the door with a boy she hardly knew.

As Allison drove north on I-35 she remembered what foresight her mother had. The dance had been fun, the usual blaring music and shaking bodies and spine-tingling slow dances. After the dance her and Glen headed out to a local restaurant with several friends. They drank coffee and cracked jokes and flirted shamelessly. Couples left one at a time until Glen and Allison were left and they headed back to his house to watch a movie.

By now the fancy dress was grating on Allison and her hair felt sticky. She longed to slip into her pajamas. But she also loved the thought of kicking back on a couch and watching a movie in attire fit for a downtown 5-star restaurant. The settled on a couch in the basement, some classic 1980s teen flick on the TV. Glen had showed little interest in what movie they picked, and Allison quickly learned why. He had no interest in watching.

Glen had been a nice guy. He wasn't so interested in the high school cliques, and he seemed to move among groups effortlessly. He seemed to be above high school politics, somehow more mature, more adult. He had fun and was genuinely nice. At one point the two had noticed one of Allison's friends looking downcast, and he suggested they make it a threesome. It was awkward and funny, but Allison thought it was such an amazing thing to do.

But for all his smooth moves and genuine nice guy charm, he had other things on his mind. Before the title credits had finished he had both hands on Allison and was trying to kiss her. She kissed him once and took his hand in hers and turned back to the movie. She told him to stop when he started groping her again, and for a moment he did. But then he came back again, kissing her sloppily and running his hand up her stomach and gripping her breasts.

Allison's stomach had turned. She felt dirty and violated and mad. She pushed him off one last time and when he had the gall to shrug his shoulders and ask what she punched him. Square in the jaw. While he swore and felt his lip for blood she gathered her dress and stormed upstairs. He never saw her shaking the pain from her hand.

Later that night she cried into her mother's shoulder after telling her what happened. Her mom helped her ice her swollen finger, and collaborated her later story that it happened during soccer practice. Her mom had told her to be safe, and she had. She could take care of herself, though her father wouldn’t admit it, which is why they never told him.

On Monday Glen's lip was still puffy and Allison so wanted to tell everyone that she'd done it. But she didn't. She let it go and contented herself with glaring at Glen in the halls. He got what he deserved and considered himself lucky to have no further fallout.

Thinking back on it, Allison wondered what kind of guy tried that sort of thing. It was the stuff of after school specials, though a drive in movie or some secluded park would have been the more likely setting. A nice dress and some slow dancing was not a permission slip for what Glen had in mind.

Her mom had been so understanding, picking her up from Glen's house (and you can imagine the awkward wait, Allison sitting in the kitchen with Glen's mother, who couldn't understand why a running back capable of dodging tackles could trip on a chair) and keeping the story quiet. The truth was she was proud of her daughter. Allison finally cried into her mom's shoulder more from frustration and anger than any feelings of the victim. She was just mad that Glen could be such an ass, that such a fun evening could end so predictably.

"Honestly, mom," she remembered saying through her tears, "What kind of an asshole does that?"

"Sometimes boys think that's what they want, honey."

"Forced sex on a couch in the basement with his parents upstairs?" She couldn't see how this was anyone's fantasy, and her mom tried to hide her discomfort.

"Not all boys are like that."

"And someday I'll meet a handsome and chaste gentleman? I'm not looking for a fantasy either."

"I know, honey. Some day you'll meet a boy you won't have to punch." Her mom's patience had paid off and she finally broke through Allison's funk. She smiled, despite her tears.

"Thanks, mom."