Back to You

March 2001
Lauren sat on the wall near the faculty parking lot waiting for the late bus to arrive. A crowd of other students waited as well—laughing, talking, sitting on the ground trying to get some homework done—but Lauren sat by herself, her eyes downcast as she absently picked at the strap of her book bag.
“Jesus. Did someone kill your puppy?”
Lauren glanced up to see Michael walking toward her, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He leaned over and bumped fists with his friend Jay, who walked off in the other direche exhaled heavilyry, bringtion as Michael continued toward her.
“No,” she smiled half-heartedly. “I don’t have a puppy.”
“Ah. So is that why you got that mug on?” he asked as he reached the wall where she was sitting, nudging her leg with his shoulder.
“No,” she said with a tiny laugh. “It’s just been a bad day.”
Michael stood with his back to the wall and reached up behind him; with a quick jump, he was up and sitting beside her. “Do I need to kick somebody’s ass?”
She laughed to herself and shook her head, and then she reached up and fanned the air in front of her face, scrunching her nose at him. He rolled his eyes before he took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it over the wall behind them.
“So what’s the problem?” he asked.
Lauren sighed. “It’s just been a frustrating day. For starters, neither one of my parents are coming to my meet this weekend, and it’s the biggest one of the season.”
“Why aren’t they coming?”
“My dad’s gonna be away on business, and now my mom has to go help my grandma move because my aunt can’t do it anymore.”
“Okay,” Michael nodded. “What’s the other problem?”
Lauren shook her head and looked down. “It’s stupid. I just found out I won’t be able to run for student government next year.”
“Why not?”
“Because it coincides too much with gymnastics.”
Michael leaned back on his hands. “So fix it.”
Lauren looked over, her brow pulled together.
“If you want to do both, then do both. Talk to your coach. See if you can work something out. Or talk to the student advisor. The whole point of being on student government is to bring about change, right? It’s stupid that athletes can’t participate. You should say something.”
“I’m not good at confrontation.”
“True,” he said. “But you’re good at being reasonable. It’s a reasonable request. I mean, they might still say no, but shit, at least you’ll know you tried.”
Lauren nodded, looking down as she swung her feet.
“If you really want something, you shouldn’t stop until you get it, no matter what you have to do. That’s how I see it, anyway.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”
“As for the other thing,” Michael said, looking off into the distance. “I mean…is it that important for you to have someone at your meet?”
Lauren looked down as she began picking at the straps of her backpack again.
“I’m not making fun of you,” he added. “I genuinely want to know. I don’t know about this kind of stuff. Does it really make a difference if someone is there?”
In that second, Lauren could have kicked herself. She felt so stupid and selfish, complaining that her parents would miss one meet, when Michael’s parents had been missing out on things his entire life.
She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to belittle the situation. “It’s not that big of a deal. I just feel like I do better when I know someone I care about is watching me. I guess it’s like… his head, a small smile on his lips. grymotivation to make them proud or something.”
She looked over at him and saw that his expression had turned thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. But what about just doing it for you?”
She smiled. “You’re right,” she said, trying to look away before he could see it was forced.
She should have known he wouldn’t buy it.
“Alright, that’s it,” he said, jumping down off the wall and turning toward her. “Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Yep. Off the wall,” he said as he turned and walked toward the parking lot.
“I have to catch the bus,” she called after him, and he waved his hand behind him dismissively.
“I’ll take care of it. Let’s go,” he said, not even turning to see if she was following him.
She watched him for a second before she rolled her eyes and jumped off the wall with a huff.
“Where are we going?” she asked when she finally caught up to him.
“For a ride,” he said, waving his hand like a game show hostess in front of something that looked like it used to be a car a long, long time ago.
“Whose is this?” she asked, looking over the black hatchback that was missing two hubcaps and covered in scratches and rust spots of varying sizes and colors.
It looked like a Jackson Pollock.
“Mine,” he said matter-of-factly, walking around to the driver’s side.
“Since when?” she asked.
“Since now.”
Lauren lifted her eyes to his. “Did you steal this?” she asked, and he tilted his head.
“Come on now, Red. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“So you paid for this? That’s actually worse than stealing it.”
He laughed out loud, flipping her off over the top of the car. “Quit being such a bitch and just get in the car,” he said through his smile, opening his door. “Wait,” he said suddenly, holding his hand up to stop her. “You’ve had a tetanus shot, right?”
Lauren tried not to laugh as she pulled open the passenger door, cringing when it made a sound like a dying whale.
But it was nothing compared to the sound the car made when he started it.
As she put on her seatbelt, she flinched again. “That sounds like a broken blender,” she yelled over the noise.
“It’s great, isn’t it? This guy down the road from me was gonna junk it. Sold it to me for a hundred bucks,” he added before he switched gears, and Lauren cupped her hands over her ears and hoped it was a short drive to wherever they were going.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn’t help but notice the stares they were getting from the other students. She told herself it was just the eyesore of a car and the deafening, metallic clanking it made as it chugged out of the lot, but the truth was, she knew they’d be getting that look even if they’d been merely walking together.
She didn’t understand how people hadn’t gotten over it by now.
They’d been friends for almost four months, and still people acted shocked when they were spotted talking in the halls, or sitting together at the pizzeria.
Or driving off campus together. { display: block; text-indent: 0%; leasha
Fine. She could recognize the hint of controversy in that last one, but nevertheless, it didn’t make sense that they were still fodder for gossip. Lauren Monroe had befriended Michael Delaney, and she hadn’t ended up dead, or on drugs, or been arrested, or joined a cult. The whole thing should have been pretty boring, actually.
After about five minutes of driving, Michael finally pulled the car over and cut the engine, and the sudden silence made her ears ring.
“Here we are,” he said as he exited the car, and Lauren got out, wiggling her finger in her ear.
“I feel like I just left a concert,” she mumbled.
“God, you really got your panties in a bunch today,” he said with an amused laugh as he opened the chain-link gate in front of them and gestured for her to go first.
It finally dawned on Lauren that they were at the community park.
“Why are we here?” she asked as she looked up at him. “I didn’t even think this place was open in March.”
“Well, apparently it is,” he said, nodding toward the open gate. “Go.”
She glanced at the empty park before looking back at him, and he stood there watching her, waiting.
“Okay,” she sighed, walking into the park, and she heard the gate clang shut behind them as he followed her.
“To the slide,” he said, and she walked around the swings to the left and stood beside it, turning to look at him. “Go ahead,” he added, motioning for her to climb it.
She looked at him like he was crazy, but he was watching her, his expression even.
“Um, okay?” she said stoically before she climbed the ladder and sat down at the top of the slide. “Why am I doing this again?”
“Because I asked you to. Go ahead.”
She shook her head before she pushed off the top and slid down to the bottom. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she looked up at him.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “No, that was horrible. Do it again.”
“Michael,” she said, annoyed. “I’m freezing. Can you just tell me what the point of this is?”
“Yes. As soon as you go down again.”
Lauren pushed off the slide in a huff, and she heard him chuckle behind her as she climbed the slide again.
“Put your arms up this time. And say ‘wheee’ when you come down.”
“No,” she said as she positioned herself at the top of the slide.
“Just humor me, please,” he said, his smile gone. “This is serious.”
She stared at him for a second before she nodded. “Fine,” she said softly, and she pushed off the top and lifted her arms. “Wheee,” she deadpanned pitifully, and as soon as her feet hit the sand below, he burst out laughing.
“My God, that was pathetic. Get over here,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her off the slide.
“Is the point of this to make me look like an idiot?” she said as he dragged her away.
“No, that’s not the point, but it’s definitely a plus,” he said through his laughter, and she reached over and smacked him with her free hand.
“Here,” he said, backing her into one of the swings, and she grabbed the metal cI think we got a good thing go, lehains on either side as he came up behind her, gripping the chains just above her hands. And then he took several steps backward until she was as far back as the chains would allow.
Michael leaned forward so that his chest was pressed against the length of her back, and her breath caught in her throat. “Ready?” he said in her ear, and before she could respond, he shoved her forward with such force that she lost her stomach; Lauren squeezed her eyes shut as she gripped the chains tighter and curled her knees up to her torso.
As she swung back, she felt his hands on her lower back, cushioning her descent and sending her right back up, even higher than before. The cold wind whipped her hair around her face, and as her stomach dropped again, she laughed.
She careened back toward Michael and this time he caught her by the hips, gripping them firmly as he ran forward and gave her a vigorous push as he darted underneath her. Lauren flew up higher than she’d ever been on a swing set, and she screamed, followed by unbridled laughter.
“There ya go,” he said with a smile, walking back over to the swings and sitting on the one next to hers.
Lauren began pumping her legs, keeping herself going as her height gradually lessened, and she looked over at him and smiled.
“You feel better?” he asked.
“I do, actually.”
Michael pushed off with his feet, rocking gently in the swing. “Whenever I’m pissed off about something, I always think to myself, ‘What do I feel like doing right now?’ And then I go and do it, whatever it is. Screw everyone else, ya know?” He looked over at her with a smirk. “And just now, I felt like coming here.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than kicking someone’s ass.”
“Hmm. That’s debatable. It depends on whose ass I’m kicking.”
Lauren laughed and shook her head as she pumped her legs, making the swing go a little faster.
“See, Red? When life hands you lemons, you know what you gotta do now.”
“Wow,” Lauren said. “Yes, Mr. Cliché, I know what I have to do. I make lemonade.”
“No,” he said. “You scream, ‘F*ck you, lemons!’”
Lauren whipped her head toward Michael, her eyes wide, and she quickly scanned the park, forgetting for the moment that it was the dead of winter and no one else was there.
“God,” she said with a horrified laugh.
“And then you throw those goddamn lemons into oncoming traffic, and you go do what you want to do.”
She tried not to laugh, but it was pointless, and as soon as she broke, he laughed along with her. She turned to look at him sitting on the swings next to her, rolling from the balls of his feet to the heels as he rocked himself in the swing.
Lauren wondered if she’d ever stop being floored by these moments. It was almost surreal. He’d been suspended three times in the four months they’d been friends, and two of those were for fighting on school grounds. She’d seen the way others looked at him, the way they avoided him, and she’d seen the way he carried himself around those people. The look in his eyes changed, his posture changed. It was like he was actually someone else.
And it was so strange, because the truth of it was, the infamous Del was just Michael to her, the boy who was quickly becoming her best friend in the world { display: block; text-indent: 0%; leasha.
And that weekend, as Lauren stood at the edge of the mat chalking her hands, her eye was drawn to the stands, where one spectator stuck out like a sore thumb.
He sat on the highest bench, a sharp contrast to the adults sitting demurely in the rows before him, with his backward baseball hat, his overly casual posture, and his arm draped over the back of the bleachers as he absently drummed his fingers against the wood.
All her breath left her in a rush, and she shook her head slightly in disbelief.
His eyes were scanning the mats below, and when he finally made eye contact with her, she grinned up at him and waved.
And when he winked at her, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that from that moment on, she would do anything for him.
She turned then, walking to the other side of the mat as she got ready to make her run, her adrenalin racing because she knew he was watching.
And she couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the fact that the baddest boy in school could somehow always make her feel like the world was good.