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I remembered what was happening and why I’d been on the ground. “I was waiting to talk to you,” I explained, and looked at where he still gripped my arms.
He put me down and let go. “You’re all right? Nothing happened?”
“No, nothing yet. I’m ok.” I looked at him closely because it was so nice to see him. Over the last several weeks I’d wanted to, so much. I’d even told Ward that I wanted to go out to a bar near Bowie’s apartment in case he might have been there, leading to a dreadful night with my boyfriend.
“Are you smiling?”
“I’m glad to see you,” I said, and saw a ghost of a smile on his face as well. “It feels like it’s been a long time.”
“A month,” he answered. “I’ve seen you some. I’ve watched you when you were on the field practicing and at the games. I’ve looked for you in your parking lot, too, and I drove by the NGS a few times and once or twice I went by your house. Three times,” he admitted, then shook his head. “No, it was five times. I was worried about you but I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I was around, if that guy saw me or if I texted, I’d make things worse.”
“I’ve been looking for you as well,” I answered. “I drove past your apartment building, at least five times. I even went to the Pineapple Lounge in case you might have been there.”
“I haven’t felt much like dancing,” he said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s probably lucky for everyone that they didn’t have to watch me doing my moves,” he told me. Still, he only had a little bit of smile where his usual grin was. “I was supposed to get dance lessons but that didn’t pan out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. “Not about the lessons, about everything. You were trying to be a friend and I blew you off and didn’t listen to what you had to say. I was rude and a terrible friend back to you.” The syllables tripped over each other and sounded garbled, like when I’d spoken at Aubin’s wedding. “You were so fun and I liked being with you so much, and then I just dropped you and that was awful of me. I’m very sorry.”
“I understood.”
“No,” I told him. “No, I’m ashamed of myself.” That was true for a lot of reasons, only some of which related to my treatment of him. “I wanted to tell you that I’m going to make some changes. Big changes,” I added. “I’m breaking up with Ward.”
“You are? Did you tell him that?”
“No. But I deleted all the apps in my phone that he was using to watch me and I took the tracker off my car, so he knows that something is going on,” I answered.
“The tracker. He’s been tracking your car,” Bowie said slowly, and I nodded.
“I’m not putting up with it anymore. I turned it off and took out the battery and next I’ll break it into pieces with a hammer. I turned off my phone, too, and I left that under the bed as well. I think he had installed more spyware that I didn’t know about.”
He put his hand over his mouth and shook his head back and forth. “Lissa. I know you realize that this is a bad situation.”
“It’s ok. It’s all good and I’m fine,” I assured him. I was going to make this fine and I wasn’t going to be Bowie’s problem. He didn’t want to have to take care of someone; he thought that people should handle their own issues, and I was going to. “I just wanted to see you and tell you that I was sorry, and that I’m making these changes and…I hope, maybe after a while when you don’t feel angry at me anymore for treating you so poorly, I hope you can forgive me.” I hoped it so much that I held my breath as I waited for his answer.
“I’m not forgiving you.”
“Oh.” Then I had to leave fast so he didn’t see me cry.
“I mean that there’s nothing to forgive,” he explained. “But I’m sorry, too, that I walked away from you that day we fixed your door.”
“Oh,” I said again, but this time it was more of a sigh of relief. “No, I understand. I know you don’t want to get involved in other people’s problems, that you think everyone should fix themselves. I’m going to do that.”
“Why do you think that about me?”
“You said it,” I answered, kind of confused. “You said that you didn’t want to help your mom anymore and that I should forget about my dad and trying to save him.”
“I do help my mother,” Bowie told me. “I try to get her into treatment. I hire people to drive her and watch her so she doesn’t get into trouble. I always question if I’m doing it right, if I should let her go and let things fall apart, but I can’t. I love her and I want her to be better. It’s always a worry and I can see how you feel the stress of it, too. I don’t want that for you, so I want to take your father and shake him silly until he stops putting it on you.” He shook own his head, hand over his mouth again. Then he looked at me and asked, “How did this get so fucked up? Pardon my language.”
“I don’t care about your language.” He could have talked like Coach Sam and it would have sounded like music, because I was so grateful that he was standing in front of me.
“Are you going home right now? Alone?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be alone. My dad was working here tonight and he should be at the cottage by now, but he’s been acting funny and staying out—never mind.” I wasn’t going to bother Bowie with these things, because I would act like Aubin, like how an adult would behave. He didn’t have to take care of me, because I could do it myself. And yes, I was scared out of my mind that Ward would be waiting for me at the gate to the stadium, that he’d follow me home and things would turn bad, but this was the choice I was making.
“Could you do something for me?” Bowie asked, and I nodded immediately.
