Read Online The Day I Killed James by Catherine Ryan Hyde - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Ryan Hyde
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it.”
He jumped to his feet. “Right. Sorry.”
Before he was two steps away she called after him, “Wait. Art. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“No, you’re right. I should leave you alone.”
“Art, it’s okay. I’m sorry. Really. The last thing I want to do is hurt your feelings.”
He waved over his shoulder as he walked off down the beach.
She lay on her stomach a moment with her head in her hands. It didn’t work. It never worked. Maybe it never would. You had to hurt them to keep them away, and if you didn’t keep them away, they’d get hurt. She’d tried it from just about every angle, and it seemed there was no way out.
In the morning she sat with Todd in the fog, at a picnic table on the dirt hill behind the guide trailer. He gave her half of his cinnamon roll.
Normally the hilltop rose above the summer fog. Which is why Hearst’s father camped on this site, she’d grown sick to death of saying. But this morning the fog hovered at hilltop level, cool and welcome.
Todd didn’t talk much, an appealing quality.
She said, “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
He said, “Thank you.” Apparently surprised and flattered.
They sat quietly another minute or two, and Annie finished her sweet roll and wiped her sticky fingers on a napkin. And looked at Todd. She wore her sunglasses, even in the fog. Maybe the better to look at Todd.
He was big and broad-shouldered and blond and handsome. More to the point, he was quiet and polite, which figured into her attraction to him. And that represented a problem to Annie, who knew she could take him apart if she were to let those thoughts pull her all the way into actions.
She took out a cigarette.
Then Art stuck his head out the back trailer door and said, “Hey, Annie. Leander’s on the front patio. I figured you’d want to know.”
And some part of her, a part she’d yet to acknowledge, felt relieved to see Art. As if it had been in question whether she ever would again. And even though none of that made any genuine sense, it felt real enough to cause her to overlook the fact that he was teasing her in a not entirely pleasant or well-meaning way.
“Art. Sorry about yesterday.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s not a big deal, okay?”
He disappeared again.
And she thought, Thank God. He’s here in one piece. I can stop thinking about that. Though she hadn’t been thinking about it. Not consciously. She tried to strike a match, noticing her hands shake slightly.
Todd watched in silence, his head tilted slightly to one side. Then he took the matches from her hand and lit the cigarette for her. She could easily have touched his hand to steady the flame, but she didn’t.
“I shouldn’t do this. I’m helping you kill yourself.” A pause, during which he handed back the matches. “He means well.”
“Who, Art?”
“Yeah. Art. It’s just, when he likes somebody, he’s kind of loud about it.”
“Strident.”
“Yeah. Strident.”
“He’s okay. Bit of a pest. But I don’t actually dislike him or anything. I’m just trying to make him stay back a few steps. For his own sake.” Then she talked over the moment to avoid questions. “Tell me something, Todd.” His head took on that slight tilt again. Unlike her—unlike most people—he watched and listened. “What in God’s name do you guys see in me? Honestly.”
“Well, it’s not
all
the guys. Just a group of them. Actually, it’s mostly Art and that whole little group of college trainees. Well, it’s most of them. You’re right.”
“And you.”
“What gave me away?”
“Art did. Besides, you gave me half your cinnamon roll.”
“Yeah, that I did. Well. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m also nearly bald, thirty pounds underweight, and hard to get along with. Plus, how do you know I’m even old enough to be legal?”
“You couldn’t have gotten a job here if you weren’t eighteen. There’s
He jumped to his feet. “Right. Sorry.”
Before he was two steps away she called after him, “Wait. Art. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“No, you’re right. I should leave you alone.”
“Art, it’s okay. I’m sorry. Really. The last thing I want to do is hurt your feelings.”
He waved over his shoulder as he walked off down the beach.
She lay on her stomach a moment with her head in her hands. It didn’t work. It never worked. Maybe it never would. You had to hurt them to keep them away, and if you didn’t keep them away, they’d get hurt. She’d tried it from just about every angle, and it seemed there was no way out.
In the morning she sat with Todd in the fog, at a picnic table on the dirt hill behind the guide trailer. He gave her half of his cinnamon roll.
Normally the hilltop rose above the summer fog. Which is why Hearst’s father camped on this site, she’d grown sick to death of saying. But this morning the fog hovered at hilltop level, cool and welcome.
Todd didn’t talk much, an appealing quality.
She said, “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
He said, “Thank you.” Apparently surprised and flattered.
They sat quietly another minute or two, and Annie finished her sweet roll and wiped her sticky fingers on a napkin. And looked at Todd. She wore her sunglasses, even in the fog. Maybe the better to look at Todd.
He was big and broad-shouldered and blond and handsome. More to the point, he was quiet and polite, which figured into her attraction to him. And that represented a problem to Annie, who knew she could take him apart if she were to let those thoughts pull her all the way into actions.
She took out a cigarette.
Then Art stuck his head out the back trailer door and said, “Hey, Annie. Leander’s on the front patio. I figured you’d want to know.”
And some part of her, a part she’d yet to acknowledge, felt relieved to see Art. As if it had been in question whether she ever would again. And even though none of that made any genuine sense, it felt real enough to cause her to overlook the fact that he was teasing her in a not entirely pleasant or well-meaning way.
“Art. Sorry about yesterday.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s not a big deal, okay?”
He disappeared again.
And she thought, Thank God. He’s here in one piece. I can stop thinking about that. Though she hadn’t been thinking about it. Not consciously. She tried to strike a match, noticing her hands shake slightly.
Todd watched in silence, his head tilted slightly to one side. Then he took the matches from her hand and lit the cigarette for her. She could easily have touched his hand to steady the flame, but she didn’t.
“I shouldn’t do this. I’m helping you kill yourself.” A pause, during which he handed back the matches. “He means well.”
“Who, Art?”
“Yeah. Art. It’s just, when he likes somebody, he’s kind of loud about it.”
“Strident.”
“Yeah. Strident.”
“He’s okay. Bit of a pest. But I don’t actually dislike him or anything. I’m just trying to make him stay back a few steps. For his own sake.” Then she talked over the moment to avoid questions. “Tell me something, Todd.” His head took on that slight tilt again. Unlike her—unlike most people—he watched and listened. “What in God’s name do you guys see in me? Honestly.”
“Well, it’s not
all
the guys. Just a group of them. Actually, it’s mostly Art and that whole little group of college trainees. Well, it’s most of them. You’re right.”
“And you.”
“What gave me away?”
“Art did. Besides, you gave me half your cinnamon roll.”
“Yeah, that I did. Well. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m also nearly bald, thirty pounds underweight, and hard to get along with. Plus, how do you know I’m even old enough to be legal?”
“You couldn’t have gotten a job here if you weren’t eighteen. There’s
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