Timothy

"Nona! Hurry up!" My pudgy friend Sophie impatiently fidgeted as I fumbled with my keys. The rain was beating down on my skin and soaking my hair thoroughly.

"Got it," The door opened creakily. After entering shelter and drying off, we settled down on the couch with some freshly popped corn and the first five seasons of our favorite show. I'd gotten lost in the goofiness of the jokes when Sophie became distracted.

"Oh my god, someone's breaking into your car!" My head whipped around to look out the window. The little beat up truck was being tugged at by a boy wearing a white T-Shirt, old blue jeans and combat boots. His blonde hair was cut short. A mischievous grin spread onto my lips as Sophie stared at me. "He's breaking into your car!" She repeated. I nodded, nonchalantly watching him carefully dip a screwdriver into the keyhole of my truck.

"Timothy is back," I chuckled.

I'd grown up in little old Orchard Falls with the unfortunateness of being named Winona Twist. My parents preferred uncommon things, names and people; I always assumed this was why they had chosen each other. My mother, being a gothic, moody teenager trapped in a middle-aged towheaded woman's body; and my father, a reclusive writer with bulked up glasses and a 6"4 frame. They seemed to be two pieces from very different puzzles, and yet they cared very little. 

It had occurred to me around age ten that nothing in this backwater town ever changed. The only reassurance that kept me from constantly ripping my hair out was my neighbor, Timothy. He had been my best friend between ages five and sixteen, until he'd been shipped off to his uncle’s farm in Montana after he had been caught breaking into a teacher’s car. It was his "flaw"; he liked to break into things. He never actually stole anything, but the satisfaction of knowing he had the ability kept him sane.

"Who is Timothy? What is wrong with you? That guy is breaking into your car!" Sophie's favorite past time was shouting repeatedly in my ear as if I hadn't heard her the first time she had yelled.  

"He's not breaking in, relax." My friend stared at me incredulously. 

"Then what's he doing, leaving you a note?" As the words, laced with sarcasm, left her mouth, Timothy looked up.

"Yeah, a note."

"He might be breaking into your car but he sure looks good doing it." The boy winked, a crooked grin appearing. I waved and he went back to work. "Do you know him?" I ignored her.

After he had gotten in, I watched him scrawl a note onto the back of a napkin and hide it in the glovebox, then duck out of sight.

"Well I'll be damned," Sophie said softly as we examined the car from the window.

The rain had stopped when we approached the car. Unlocking the driver's side, I leaned against the door and looked around. The boy was nowhere to be seen. 

"What are you doing?" Sophie asked as I sat down in the car, looking around. Then I saw it: He had stashed the napkin in the ashtray, leaving just the corner unveiled.

 

I'M BACK

-T

"Are you two like, friends? How do you know him?"

"Why do you ask so many questions, Soph?" She shrugged and popped a mint into her mouth. I just watched her chew on it, and then swallow. "He's the neighbor's boy. We were friends growing up.... We used to sneak out late at night and camp out in the woods." Sophie nodded interestedly, shoving a handful of mints down her throat. "He must be back from his uncle’s," I let out a short breath as I felt my chest tighten. I hadn't felt so excited in what seemed to be years.

He was sitting on the porch when I pulled into the driveway. A cigarette jutted out of his lips and his blue eyes followed the smoke upward. Slithering off of the seat, I counted my steps to him. When I reached thirteen, his feet were just inches from mine.

"I thought you were going to stay there until your parents decided-" I began, but he cut me off.

"My uncle had a heart attack." A lengthy sigh tumbled over his lips. After flicking away some ash from the tip, he offered the cigarette to me. I declined gently. Plopping down beside him, I dropped a mint onto my tongue. The stench of dampened concrete wafted through the air, but I didn't mind.  "How have you been Angel?" Whilst gathering my response, I ignored the tingling in my fingertips at the sound of the word Angel. I hadn't been called that in years. Shrugging quietly, I whipped the cigarette butt from his mouth before he had a chance to flick it to the ground.

"You know my mom will throw a fit if she sees it," I explained, chucking it into the garbage can beside me. “And I’m really sorry about your uncle.” He did not give a response but rather watched me intently. 

"I missed you." His words came out as a whisper.  My head lowered, for I had no response.

"Winona!" My mom's voice cracked the conversation short. Tugging on Timothy's arm, I attempted to hide him from her view, but he had become statuesque. "Who’s your friend...?" I tried to shield him from view; he put his arms around my shoulder and smiled at my approaching mother.

"Mom, you remember Timothy, right?" My voice shook nervously but Timothy squeezed my arm reassuringly. My mother’s face fell as she looked from me to him, then back again. It took her a moment to speak.

 "Oh…Timothy. You’re back. How is your uncle?" A fabricated and bitter smile covered her cherry-red glossed lips. As they engaged, I felt myself drift off into memories of us being scolded for sneaking out; and if it wasn't for that, it was for reeking of cigarettes. 

“Well, you two kids have fun!” I'd drifted for so long that I hadn't noticed their conversation halt. I felt Timothy's hands, rough from overwork, hold onto my shoulders. They slid down my arms and locked onto my hands, tugging me towards my car.

"Let's go!" The childish twinkle returned to his eye that I had missed so dearly from our adolescence. Though I felt unsure, I slid into the passenger side of the truck, watching as he carefully backed out of the driveway and onto the road. His arm unfurled and was laid casually across the back of the seat, fingertips brushing my shoulder. The radio buzzed a familiar tune that meshed with the recurring rain to create euphoria throughout the car. Glancing over at him, I grinned. In my pocket, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Sophie, asking me where I was. Carelessly, I tossed it into the backseat. Watching cars bumble past, my mind emptied its contents into the wind. 

"What are you thinking right now?" Timothy's voice did not awaken me from my state of dreaming but instead pulled me in deeper.

"I'm thinking that we should do this more often," I replied.

"I agree." The corner of his mouth tipped in a lazy side-smile. I mimicked his grin and stared out the window once again, drifting off into sleep.

“Angel,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of my face, “we’re here.” I sat up instinctively. I probably looked more awake than I felt. Timothy however did not look to have slept; it was there in the pre-sunset light that I noticed how sunken in his eyes were. 

“Where are we?” My throat ached, causing my voice to emerge sounding raspy. He held onto my hand tightly and pulled me onward. The sunset had begun to emerge from the trees and I realized where we were; in the middle of the woods by the junior high we had gone to. When we were younger, we would sneak into the woods after school to smoke stolen cigarettes. I hadn’t been there since he had moved two years back.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” I nodded quietly, staring at the old car that had been there forever. It was truly overgrown; tires flattened, door hinges shriveled and rusty, and plants had anchored themselves in the fabric inside the broken leather of the seat. I stared out the window of Timothy's truck, flashbacks coming wildly. We used to sit in the front seats of that car when it would rain and pretend to drive as far away as it would take us. 

“I can’t believe this is still here.” I whispered, inspecting the forgotten vehicle. A stringy plant sprout had tangled itself around the steering wheel.   

"I missed this place a lot." He smiled childishly, turning to me. "I missed you a lot, too."

"This town is so plain without you around. I think some people actually missed being able to complain about their cars being broken into." Timothy's laugh held a splatter of nostalgia. The orangey evening sunlight shined dimly through the dirt-stained windows. My hand wandered into his as we sat in silence, being content with only each other. 

"I have to go back to take care of the farm." Timothy murmured. I sat up and turned to him, my chest tensing up.

"When? Can't someone else do it?" I was frantically searching the corners of my mind for a reason for him not to go; But instead of answering my stream of questions, Timothy pressed his lips to mine. 

My hands trembled as I pulled him closer. His hands slid down to the small of my back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our kiss was broken as I rested my forehead on his, taking a moment to breathe.

"I've wanted to do that since I was fifteen," He laughed breathlessly. I gave him another peck. "I want you to come with me," He spoke suddenly. 

"Where? What?" The bubble of paradise I'd been in was popped.

"To the farm. Come with me. It'll just be us." He was smiling but his eyes showed desperation. I looked down as the lump in my throat rose.

"But that's so far away..." I drifted off, my voice unwilling to go on. Timothy tipped my face up to meet him and he gave me one more kiss, savoring the moment. 

"I don't want to leave you again." I buried my face in his neck.

"Then don't." I breathed. He shook his head and laughed. "No, I'm serious. What if we just left? We're eighteen. We can go anywhere we want." Timothy chuckled again.

"Angel, you are crazy." He pulled me in for another kiss but I slid off his lap.

"Let's run away, Timothy. I hate this godforsaken town. I don't want to spend the rest of my life here, and I know you don't either. Let's just go." Timothy stared at me, and for a moment I could've sworn he was going to yell at me.

But instead he grinned and turned the key in the ignition.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.09.2013

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