“But, Crew, Hudson can help us get to know the area. Maybe she can even tell us where to go to get the stuff,” he contends.
Alarms sound loudly in my head. “What stuff?” I blurt out, not waiting for Crew’s response.
Caleb smiles at me and states matter-of-factly, “Pot. That’s why we’re moving here.”
I can only imagine the look of bewilderment that crosses my face, but before I’m able to consider his comment for more than face value, Crew’s imploring green eyes meet mine. “It’s not like that. He, uh, well…” he stammers over his words, threading his fingers through his messy chestnut hair.
“I have epilepsy,” Caleb reveals like it’s the most normal thing in the world, his perky demeanor holding strong. “It’s the fucked-up kind that my doctors back in Texas can’t figure out, so we’re moving out here to get a new doctor and see if smoking weed can help with my seizures and migraines.”
Feeling as if I’ve been punched in the gut at his revelation, my jaw falls open, releasing an audible gasp—a combination of not wanting to believe him and devastating concern. I’ve known Caleb for less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already one hundred percent certain I adore him. He’s a funny, energetic kid who’s overflowing with a robust spirit. A lover of life.
The thought of an illness threatening to hide his vibrant personality—something the world needs more of—not only breaks my heart; it pisses me off. And instantly, I know I’ll do whatever I can to help this family.
To help Caleb.
I ignore the discomfort etched into the creases of Crew’s forehead, suddenly understanding his reluctance to have me assist them with anything. My initial reaction is to reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder, to assure him everything will be okay, but I don’t. I’m not a fan of people sugarcoating stuff for me, and seeing how I know absolutely nothing about Caleb’s situation, I figure neither of them would appreciate my bullshit empty promise.
“That really sucks,” I say solemnly, figuring there really isn’t a better word to sum up my feelings, “and I can totally help you out with finding some smoke, but I’ll have to talk to your mom first, and you’ll need to apply for a medical marijuana card so she can buy it for you.”
“Yeah, well, we have to find an apartment and get utilities hooked up so we can claim residency first,” Crew interjects, his face now expressionless, “which is why I’m trying to find us a damn place to live, if you two are done chit-chatting.”
Shuffling back a few feet to put some space between us, I chew nervously on my bottom lip, not wanting to overstep my boundaries. “Right. Well, I’ve gotta go to class now anyway, but if you’re still interested in my help, I know quite a bit about what you’re looking for. My dad and uncle own one of the dispensaries in town. I’ll be back on property around five this afternoon. Just come find me.”
Crew grunts some sort of response I don’t quite catch, but happy-go-lucky Caleb simply nods and winks at me as I walk away. “We’ll see you around, beautiful girl.”
Halfway into my lengthy drive to school, I seriously contemplate turning my new black Subaru Crosstrek—a vehicle my dad insisted on if I was going to be driving hundreds of miles in the snow each week—around and returning to help the Elliott family with anything and everything they need. Typically, I look forward to Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, when I have classes at Colorado School of Mines just outside of Denver, particularly for the three hour round-trip I get to spend alone with my music and my thoughts. Even with my older sisters all sharing an apartment in town, there isn’t much peace and quiet around the house between a rambunctious little boy and constantly bickering teenage sisters. But I don’t.
Despite Caleb’s enthusiasm for having me around—and I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact he has epilepsy—Crew made it quite clear he wasn’t interested in my assistance. Maybe I’ll just go talk to Mary directly this evening, to pass along what I know about the process.
With my mind constantly drifting to Caleb—and Crew—class seems to drag on forever. Where I’m usually alert and attentive to the lectures, today I’m having a hard time focusing on how to graph linear inequalities, nor am I sure how I’ll ever use this information at any point in the rest of my life. As far as I know, my mom and dad never break out the graphing calculator when they’re going over financials for the resort, the dispensary, or even our household budget.
I find myself hoping Mary got whatever job she was interviewing for…wondering if the three of them are out looking for a place to live…thinking about the way my body involuntarily responds to Crew’s piercing stare and deep Southern voice. All things I shouldn’t be concerned with, but am.
Utterly relieved when the professor finally announces class is over, I grab my text and notebook and stuff them into my backpack, making a mad dash for the door. Unfortunately, I have an hour break between Algebra and Literature, and where I’d usually grab a bite for lunch or take a quick smoke break, I know if I get in my car, I’ll be heading west on I-70 back home.
“Hudson! Hudson, wait!” a familiar male voice calls out from behind me, causing me to stop my forward progress and turn around. Beckham flashes a toothy grin as he jogs up to where I’m standing in the breezeway between buildings, bending down and chastely kissing the corner of my mouth. “Hey, baby girl, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
Baby girl? Wait for him? Did I miss something?
Tilting my head to the side, I peer up at him with confusion and shrug my shoulders. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to wait for you. Is everything okay?”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and begins walking, which in turn forces me to lumber alongside him, guiding us in the direction of the parking lot. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve just been excited to see you after last night. What night can you hang out this week? We don’t have to do the family dinner thing again, do we?”
“Ummm…I’m not sure.” My body is as stiff as a board under his touch. “We’re completely full at the resort right now, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to get away anytime this week. And no, you don’t have to do the family dinner again. That was a one-time meet-the-crazy-parents thing.”
“Not even one evening, for an early dinner or something? Maybe after your classes on Friday, we can go out for Mexican food.”
Sighing softly, I shake my head. “I don’t think so this week, but maybe next, if it’s a little slower.” It’s not an outright lie, even though I’m almost positive we’re booked up not only through the end of the month, but until next spring, when skiing season ends. Damn, what a shame.
We stop just in front of my car, and from the way his mouth is still cocked up at the corners, I can tell he’s not getting the hint. “Okay, baby girl,” he twists to face me, using that damn hideous nickname again, “but at least we have our breaks between classes in your car.” Drawing me into a tight embrace, he buries his face in my neck and whispers into my ear, “You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands and my mouth in tight spaces.”
Ewwww…NO!
I push forcefully off his chest to put some distance between us, my forehead rutted with annoyance. “Look, Beckham, I had a good time last night, but I’m not interested in seeing what you can do with your mouth or hands in any space. At least not anytime soon. When I told you I’m not that kind of girl, it’s ‘cause I’m really not that kind of girl. I’m not putting on an act.”