Speechless(132)

                “Hello?” he says. He pauses for a moment. “Yes, this is                     he.”

                I watch him, stirring my mac and cheese around, but he walks                     out of the room with the phone before I can hear anything else.

                I tell myself that Dad is just stressed out. Justifiably so.                     He’s been sending out résumés, applying for jobs online, but the economy sucks,                     and he hasn’t had a single call back. My first paycheck from Rosie’s won’t come                     for another week or so, but I’m already planning to give the entirety of it to                     my parents. It’s the least I can do.

                I dump the rest of my lukewarm mac and cheese down the garbage                     disposal and run the tap for a while. I wish I was back at Rosie’s. Or at least                     out of this house. Six o’clock on a Saturday night and I already have nothing to                     do but kill time before going to bed. My life is so depressing.

                I tear off a page from the refrigerator pad and write, Going out for a                         drive. I’ll be back later. –C. I stick                     the note next to Dad’s half-finished plate where he’ll be sure to see it.

                I love driving. I love the feel of the steering wheel under my                     hands, all of that power. It makes me feel in control. In summer I like to open                     all the windows, the cool air rushing in and pushing my hair off my shoulders,                     and take off my shoes so that the pedal grooves dig into my bare feet. It’s too                     cold outside to do that now; the heat is on full blast, the radio low as I try                     to figure out where to go. Instinct points me toward the center of town and the                     lake.

                I’ve lived in Grand Lake all my life. It’s a small town, yeah,                     but I’ve always liked that, that I know it inside and out, the way everyone                     knows everyone. Something about that is comforting, even if a little incestuous.                     And everyone knows everything about everyone; I                     should know. I’ve spent the last few years collecting secrets and gossip the way                     other people collect butterflies or Pez dispensers.

                There are never any surprises in Grand Lake—which I think is                     why what happened to Noah was so shocking. Because things like that aren’t                     supposed to happen here. Everyone was so defensive, so desperate to downplay the                     situation. I think they all would’ve been happier if I’d kept my mouth shut so                     they could stick their heads in the sand and pretend nothing had happened. When                     they couldn’t just ignore it, they were so quick to blame it on Warren and Joey                     just being two bad apples, because if they weren’t, that meant something more                     insidious was going on. That kids who grow up here aren’t raised right. That                     this town could produce that kind of hatred in its children. And no one wants to                     believe that.