Far From Xanadu by Julie Anne Peters
I craved a beer. A quart of Old Milwaukee. Absolut. The hard stuff, yeah. Burn my brain. Rip me bad. Find a tower.
They’d be going to the hayride tonight. This would be the first year I missed. So what? She’d be there with him.
She’d changed me. Ever since she came into my life, every day of my life was different. Out of kilter, out of joint. My inner connections were compromised. They were leaking. Every junction, every elbow, every vee, wye, ess, they’d all pulled loose, pulled apart. As if they — I— had lost the glue that’d held everything together. My whole system was breaking down, and I didn’t know how to repair it. Or replace it. I’d been waiting so long.
Waiting. It was the waiting that was unbearable.
What was I waiting for? A miracle? That he’d come back and show me how to fix it? Fix me. That she’d love me. Heal me.
Xanadu.
I rolled over onto my back and stared at the water spots on my ceiling. A picture of Dad flashed into my mind. Him giving me a ponyback ride to bed. Neighing through the kitchen, the living room, the hallway. He’d buck me off onto my mattress, then lean down and touch his nose to mine. The sweet odor of booze on his breath, the cigarettes. The smell of Dad. The comfort, certainty. I’d wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle into it; feel his stubble of whiskers against my cheek.
“Good night, baby,” he’d say. He’d hold my face between his strong hands and kiss my forehead.
“G’night, Daddy.”
We’d both whinny. And laugh. I never stole him, Ma. He was never mine to take. You can’t own a person. You can’t take her from someone she loves.
“Hey, chest hair.” Darryl pounded on my door. “You got company.”
I blinked back to the moment. Company? Who, Jamie? He’d come to rub it in about how delusional I was. He was right. I was so out of touch with reality, I lived in a fantasy dream world, worse than his.
The door swung open and Darryl stood aside. Xanadu rushed into my bedroom. “Oh God, Mike.” She flew across the room and flung herself on top of me. “He hates me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Darryl lingered in the doorway, hanging onto the knob, eyes popping out of his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but I guess he changed his mind. He stepped back into the hall and shut the door.
Xanadu was bawling, really bawling. I struggled to sit up. She was weighted onto me, holding me down. Her head burrowed into my neck and her arm pinned my shoulder to the bed.
“What’s wrong?” I said quietly.
Her chest heaved.
A strand of hay stuck in her hair and I plucked it out. “Xanadu?”
She cried louder.
I stroked her head. “Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”
She rolled away from me to lie flat on the mattress and swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “He hates me,” she said. “I told him about...,” she paused, her eyelashes slick with tears, “you know. Everything. He thinks I’m evil and horrid. He thinks I’m possessed, that I’m Satan.” A tear slid out the corner of her eye and down her cheek. “He got all mad; asked why I hadn’t told him before, why did I wait so long? Why did I do it? ‘Why did you do it?’ he says. Fuck, I don’t know why I did it.” Her voice rose. “I don’t know!” She covered her eyes with her forearm and sobbed. “I made a mistake.” She hic-cuped.
I didn’t know what to do. She was so close, her body generating heat, moisture. I propped on an elbow and rubbed her arm.
“He said he couldn’t handle it.” She sniffled. “He couldn’t handle being with me anymore.” Her voice broke and a flood of tears gushed from her eyes. She closed her fists, curled her wrists under her chin in the curve of her neck, and her whole body vibrated.
What could I say? I’m glad? I wasn’t glad. She loved him. He betrayed her. I despised him.
Tenderly, lovingly, I brushed back her hair.
“I thought I could trust him, you know?” She twisted her head to look at me. “The way I trust you. God, Mike.” She arched upward and disintegrated in my arms again.
I held her. Held her close. I felt her hurt, deep down and unrelenting. I wanted to do major damage to Bailey McCall. I could too. I could take him. One face-altering blow with my fist...
Xanadu murmured into my hair.
“What?” I drew back from her slightly.
She swallowed hard. “Can I stay here tonight? With you?”
My heart beat a pneumatic drill. “Sure.”
She rested her forehead on mine. “I better call Aunt Faye so she doesn’t send the fucking FBI out looking for me.” Xanadu rolled over to the edge of the bed.
While she punched numbers into her cell, I gathered all the Power-Bar wrappers and weights and dirty clothes off my mattress and kicked a bunch of crap into the closet. I’d missed a pair of Dad’s boxers and an undershirt. So what? I heard her say, “No, overnight with Mike. If you don’t believe me, here, you talk to her.” Xanadu shoved the phone at me.
I’d never used a cell phone. Where did you talk?
“Hello, Mike? Is that you?” Faye’s voice.
“Um, yeah.” I didn’t even see microphone holes. “I’m here,” I spoke into the numbers.
“Is Xanadu staying over there, or are you covering for her?”
I gulped. “No, ma’am. I’m not. I mean, she’s here. She’s kind of upset because she and Bailey.. .” I glanced at Xanadu, at her vacant expression, her eyes taking in my nudie posters on the wall. “Broke up,” I finished.
There was a long pause. “Where are you sleeping?” Faye said.
I eyed my bed.
She added quickly, “Never mind. All right. Tell Xanadu to be home by seven tomorrow morning in time to get ready for school.”
“Okay.” The phone buzzed in my hand.
Xanadu smiled at me. Her eyes softened. “Thank you,” she said.
She perched on the edge of the mattress and kicked off her shoes. Standing, she shimmied out of her leather pants. She lifted off her shirt. The skimpy bra was black. She slid in under the top sheet and fluffed my pillow. After a minute, her eyes found mine.
She lifted the sheet.
I hesitated. Dad’s face flashed, so clear and vivid. His voice: “Nothing’s ever going to hurt my baby. Not if I can help it.”
“Mike?”
I shimmied in.
She was so near I could feel her heart pounding, her lungs expanding and contracting. She ran a hand down the side of my face and said, “You’re the only one I can trust. The only one.”
I don’t know who kissed who first. Her soft lips on mine pressed deeper and harder, pressing, moving into me. She used her hands, her mouth. I let her. I helped her. I loved her.
When I woke, Xanadu was gone. The room was bathed in the warm glow of dawn. I could still feel her skin melded to mine, the heat of our bodies bonding us together. I heard her breathing, smelled the sweetness of her. I closed my eyes and drifted away.
She wasn’t at school on Monday. Bailey was there, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. Good. Last night was the first time in two years I didn’t bolt awake at three AM from the nightmare. Falling, falling, thud.
I thought about calling her at lunchtime. I got as far as the reception desk, then bailed. She was tired. Needed sleep. We hadn’t slept much either. I’d see her later today at the game. She’d come to my game, I was sure of that. She’d want to watch me play.
She’d want to be with me now.
The game was against Scott City. They were fourth in the standings, out of the running. Quarterfinals started Saturday, but I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Coalton Cougars were 15-4 this season, second only to Sharon Springs.
You could tell by the intensity of their warm-up, Scott City didn’t come to take batting practice. Last game of the season, they wanted to win. I respected that. It was going to be hard to keep my head in the game.
As I watched the stands fill, I limbered up with side stretches and knee bends. I didn’t w
Where was she?
The pep squad had squeezed into the middle section of bleachers. I still didn’t see her. I would though. She’d be here. She was my girl-friend now.
Girlfriend. Wow. I had a girlfriend.
Behind the backstop, Jamie caught my eye and rustled a pom-pom. I wanted to yell at him, “You were wrong. You were wrong about her. Wrong about me too. Wrong about everything. Anything is possible.”
One more scan of the bleachers.
“Mike, what are you doing?” Coach Kinneson called from the lean-to. “We’re ready to go.”
Everyone had finished warm-ups and returned from the field.
I jogged over. Hey! Coach Archuleta was back. We all crunched him in a hug.
He smiled, that crinkly, reassuring smile of his. I’d missed that this season. His trust in us, my faith in him. T.C. said, “You’re just in time, Coach A. You only missed the whole season.”
He tugged T.C.’s cap down over her eyes. “You don’t need me,” he said. “Look at your record.”
It wasn’t about stats; he had to know that. My eyes strayed to Coach Kinneson, who was staring back at me. She seemed...hurt? Because we liked him better? No. More sad. Bereft, as if she’d lost the whole season. Or lost me.
“Now that we’re together,” Coach Kinneson switched to automatic, “I’d like to congratulate you girls on a tremendous year. First of all, you survived me.”
There were titters of anxious laughter.
“Second, you managed to pull together as a team and get yourselves into the playoffs. I’m proud of you. Every last one of you. There wasn’t a game we played that you didn’t put out a hundred percent. Maybe that first game with Sharon Springs.”
We groaned.
She added, “If you work hard toward any goal, success is guaranteed. Isn’t that right, Mike?”
“What?” My face flared. Why was she asking me? “I, I guess.”
“You guess?” she repeated. There was challenge in her eyes.
Gina piped up, “The team party’s tomorrow night at my house. Who all’s coming? My dad needs to know how many steaks to buy.”
We raised hands and Gina tallied the count. Dr. Kinneson shook her head at me. What?
The ump lumbered over to the lean-to. “We’re ready to go, Coach.”
“One minute.” Coach K. held up an index finger. She nodded at Coach Archuleta. “We thought about waiting until tomorrow, but Manny and I both agreed we should celebrate it now, as a team. The vote was unanimous. Mike Szabo is this year’s MVP.”
“What?” My head jerked up.
T.C. intoned, “Again? How boring.”
Everyone laughed.“Wait a minute.” I held up a hand. “I didn’t vote. When did we vote?”
Coach Kinneson dropped a jaw. “Didn’t anyone tell Mike about the vote? You girls.”
They laughed again. They’d tricked me. “You’re dead,” I said. “You’re meat.”
Coach Kinneson reached into her golf bag and lifted out a trophy. It was tall. She presented it to me.
A trophy. Bigger than any of the others I’d won. The gold plaque at the bottom read: COALTON COUGARS, MOST VALUABLE PLAYER. Underneath the date and my name: MIKE SZABO.
She’d gotten my name right. All my other trophies were stored on the shelf in my closet because they said Mary-Elizabeth. I smiled at Coach and she smiled back. This wave of sadness washed over me.
Regret.
The umpire grumped, “It’s game time, Coach.”
Coach Archuleta tossed me my face mask. “Show me what I missed,” he said. Meaning all of us, I’m certain.
We hustled onto the field. Everyone on the team clapped me on the shoulder or touched gloves with me. My pride swelled. I loved this game. I loved all of them. As I strapped on my shin guards, I glanced up into the stands one last time. She wasn’t there —
Yes! She was. Sitting on the top riser. I tried to catch her eye, but she was wearing shades. So beautiful. So mine.
Nothing could ever compare with the happiness I felt at that moment. The sky’s the limit, as Dad would say. Believe it, baby. Punching my glove and swaggering out onto the field, I chanted with Jamie and the crowd, “Sza-bo. Mighty Mike. Sza-bo.”
Scott City gave a respectable showing. They only lost by a run. Never count out a team, especially one with something to prove. Same goes for a person.
Did Dad say that?
No, I did. My own personal philosophy.
We flung our gloves into the air and hugged each other. Great season. MVP. The reflection off a windshield as a vehicle pulled into the parking lot blinded me momentarily. The stereo was blaring an Alan Jackson song: “Who’s Cheatin’ Who.” The music cut out. As I snagged my glove in midair, my eyes were drawn to the truck. To Bailey opening the door and stepping out.
I craned my neck around to find Xanadu in the bleachers. She wasn’t there. She was at the backstop, breaking away from the milling crowd. Heading for the parking lot.
Bailey started toward her.
She walked faster, then he did. She trotted, he sprinted. She ran.
“Hell of a season, Mike.” Reese Tanner clenched my shoulder.
Beside him, Mayor Ledbetter said, “Looks like there’s a camp in your future, young lady. When’s it start?”
“What?”
They hung over me, suffocating me.
“The camp,” Reese repeated. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” I stammered, backing off. Bailey was kissing her. My heart was knocking so hard, it was cracking ribs. I couldn’t catch my breath.
Through the sea of well-wishers and back-slappers, I staggered to the lean-to to grab my gear. Everything was spinning.
“Mike.”
I dropped my trophy into my duffel and zipped it up.
“Mike.”
She loomed at the edge of the aluminum shell, smiling tentatively. “Great game. You were awesome, as usual.”
My eyes strayed over her shoulder to Bailey, who was standing off a short distance, talking to Faye and Leland.
“Listen, um. This is so weird.”
I met Xanadu’s eyes.
“I guess he had to get over the initial shock, you know, of me being a supplier. Not to mention drug-head and murderer.” She dropped her eyes to the ground. “God. Can you believe it?” A smile tugged her lips. “He still loves me. After all that, he still loves me.”
My brain screamed, What about me?
“Anyway.” She folded her arms loosely around herself and kicked at a glove someone had left propped against the bench. “About last night. You knew I was upset about Bailey, right? I wasn’t thinking straight. Straight.” She let out a little laugh. Then her face grew serious. “It didn’t mean anything, okay?”
Bailey called, “Xana.” She jumped. Lowering her arms, she smiled again, shyly, and said, “I better get going. His mother and father want to talk to me.” She rolled her eyes. “Persecute is more like it. Why did he have to tell them? Now everyone’ll know.” Her eyes darkened. “God, I hate small towns. I don’t know how you stand it. So Toto.” She reached out to touch me, but I was too far away. “Call me later, okay?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Just turned and jogged away.
Out of the lean-to, in the opposite direction, across third base, in front of the scoreboard, I walked, loped, broke out, ran.
It didn’t mean anything, okay?
My legs pumped, arms pistoned. Didn’t mean anything? The wind whipped at my face. It didn’t mean anything, didn’t mean anything. Okay? Okay? My chest hurt. Wheezing, coughing, gasping for air. I slammed the ladder against the tower, my hands shaking so hard I could barely grip the rungs.
At the walkaround, I stumbled over the bolts on the metal floor. I lost my balance, fell to my knees. I couldn’t stand, couldn’t balance, couldn’t force myself upright. I crawled to my spot.
Jamming my bac
Didn’t mean anything mean anything mean anything, okay?
“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “No. It’s not okay!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Atidal wave of tears surged up from a deep well inside of me. They gushed from my eyes and sluiced down my face. Mike doesn’t cry. Mike Szabo does not cry.
She does not cry because she does not feel.
It didn’t mean anything, okay?
To who, Xanadu? To who?
I bawled. I bawled like a baby. Not since I was four and fell off the roof and broke my arm had I bawled like this. “Don’t cry, baby,” Dad had said. “Big girls don’t cry.”
Don’t they, Dad? Don’t they cry? This hurt. It hurt more than a broken bone. Bones fuse, they heal. This hurt would never heal. It ruptured my core, the fiber of my being, it ripped away at my soul.
Didn’t mean anything, okay?
“No! It’s not okay!”
I don’t know how long I sat there, hunched over, heaving out my guts. Hours? Days?
Control. Gone.
Action. Over.
The gate screeked.
I curled up tighter. Go away. Please. Go away.
Footsteps. The whoomp of a body flopping down next to me.
“Go away.” My voice sounded small, frail. Not me, not Mike. Just go, I prayed. I don’t want you to see me like this.
“Wow, I haven’t been up here since I was a kid. Dad forbid it, you know. Too dangerous, he said. What do you call that? Irony?” Darryl snorted.
I lifted my head. It was too heavy for my neck. “What do you want?” I snarled. “I don’t have the truck.”
“That must be because I do. I got your stuff too. That big ole honkin’ trophy.” Darryl smirked. “Jamie said I could probably find you up here. What did you guys do, steal a ladder from Hank’s?”
I buried my face in my knees again.
“People kept telling me you guys were coming up here. Phew.” Darryl let out a short breath. “It’s a long way down. I forgot how far.”
“If you’re scared, get off.”
“I’m not scared. I’m just saying...”