Trailer Trash(97)

Cody waited until he was gone—until the taillights of the Jeep could no longer be seen—before slipping the ring on his finger. The fact that it fit perfectly seemed like a sign, and he was happy to find that his eyes were dry.

“Do you believe him?” his mom asked quietly from behind him.

“I believe he means it right now.” He didn’t look up from that sparkling blue stone. “But once he gets to Chicago . . .” He shook his head. There were just too many things that could go wrong. He was afraid to hope for too much.

“Better to stay skeptical and be pleasantly surprised than to get your hopes up and have him break your heart.”

It seemed wise enough, but staring at Nate’s ring, Cody realized one simple thing:

He wanted to believe.





The nearest airport was in Salt Lake City, approximately 270 miles away. At six o’clock on Saturday morning, Nate climbed into the passenger seat of his dad’s Jeep, pulled out his Walkman, put on his headphones, and did his best to pretend his father didn’t exist. His clothes and his most valued possessions—namely, his cassette collection—were in suitcases he’d take with him. His father would ship the rest once Nate arrived.

It wasn’t until somewhere around Evanston that his dad took a deep breath and said, loud enough to be heard over Nate’s music, “I’ll keep sending your allowance, as long as you’re still in high school.”

Nate turned the volume down, in case his dad had more to say, but otherwise didn’t answer.

“This isn’t punishment, Nate.”

“You said that.”

“So, why the silent treatment?”

“Because no matter what you say, it still feels like punishment to me.”

“Look, you don’t want to be stuck with a kid like Cody anyway. He’s a bad egg. He’s—”

Nate cranked the volume on his Walkman, loud enough that it was a bit uncomfortable, although he’d never admit it. Loud enough that his dad could undoubtedly hear it from the driver’s seat.

“All right!” his dad yelled. “Point taken.”

Nate hit the Stop button and took off the headphones, letting them hang around his neck. “I wish you’d quit judging him based on who his parents are.”

His dad grimaced, gripping the steering wheel and twisting it like he thought strangling it would help. They spent ten minutes like that—his dad glowering and Nate simply waiting—before his father spoke again.

“I have money set aside for you for school. Your mom and I have been saving it for years. Once you figure out which college in Chicago you’re going to—”

“I’m not staying in Chicago.”

His dad turned his head so fast, the car veered a bit to the right. “What?”

“I’ll go there to finish high school, like we agreed. But that’s it. I’m eighteen now, and once I have my diploma, I’m moving to Iowa City.”

“What? Are you kidding me? What’s in Iowa City?”

“Cody.” At least, he would be. Eventually. Nate looked at the empty space where his class ring used to be. He’d had it on since his sophomore year. He hadn’t realized how much he fidgeted with it until it wasn’t there. He didn’t mind, though. He hoped he never got used to having it gone.

“So you’re just going to throw your entire future away over some boy?”

“They have schools in Iowa too.”

“And how do you intend to pay for them?”

Nate swallowed, telling himself he shouldn’t have been surprised. His dad had always said he’d pay for as much of Nate’s schooling as possible. Now, it seemed that help was dependent upon him staying in Chicago. Or, more likely, dependent upon him not dating Cody. “I’ll get a job and work my way through, if I have to.” It’d take longer, but if other people could do it, so could he.

They checked in at the airport, and his father walked him to the gate. They still had half an hour before the flight boarded, but all the seats were taken, so they stood.

People milled past them, most of them excited about their travel. The smell of burning tobacco reached them from the smoking section. One couple who couldn’t have been much older than Nate stood embracing each other, the woman openly crying, obviously counting down the minutes before they had to say good-bye. The overhead system was a constant loop of messages.

“Mr. Preston. Mr. Paul Preston. Please pick up a courtesy telephone . . .”

Nate wondered if his father was going to speak to him again at all, but he finally did.

“Why Iowa? Why can’t he just meet you in Chicago?”

“Cody’s lived his entire life in Warren. He’s never even been out of the state. I think Iowa feels safer.”