Sunshiner

In my eyes, there is no such thing as a good person. Nor is there such a thing as a bad person. We are humans and by definition that means we are good and bad. Wilde had said it all: Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.

Dayton was both Heaven and Hell in the respect that it was filled with saints and sinners. We weren’t bad people, but we definitely did bad things. Some of us seriously lacked ethics. At the same time, though, nothing we did could truly be considered “bad,” because when one does not have morals, one has no honor; and when nothing is honorable, nothing can be dishonorable. Since everything we did was neither “good” nor “bad,” we didn’t have to worry about our actions and therefore how we could be judged.

I liked Dayton because of this. Judgmental people pissed me off beyond all belief, especially since my home-home was located in a rich little town in Concord, Massachusetts where everyone was pretty and perfect. If a parent asked where you were going to college, and you said a school that wasn’t an Ivy or some other brand name school – well, then they thought no more of you. You weren’t good enough for them if you weren’t going to a name school.

My reaction was this: Fuck them. Fuck all of them. A person with a closed mind might as well not have a mind at all.

First impressions were probably one of my biggest pet peeves in the world. The fact that someone could judge me within a few seconds after meeting me and then assume what kind of personality I had – that fucking pissed me off. That’s why I always made a point to get to know someone before I decided whether I liked them or not. And even after this, I still left my opinion open; my general attitude towards them was always subject to change and I was constantly deciding how I felt about a person.

When it came to Ben Vincente, I was still deciding. I had known Ben since I was six and, twelve years later, I still couldn’t decide if I liked the guy or not. I think I liked him for the most part. I had idolized him throughout my childhood years, and since he let me in on so many secrets about girls and Devil’s Island and Lucky Point, I thought he was the man. But there were times when he would take advantage of me and tell me secrets that were lies; for instance, there was a giant bee’s nest hanging from a tree limb in his front yard, and Ben told me that the bees were long gone and there was plenty of honey inside of it. Since I was eight and he was eleven, I eagerly believed him, and when I went to get the delicious honey he spoke of…well, guess what. The damn bee’s nest wasn’t abandoned.

So I hated Ben but at the same time I made him into a god. Now that I had grown and matured, that idolization had disappeared a bit, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I still looked up to him at least a tiny bit. He was a cool guy and he had a steady girlfriend who he would never cheat on. Some guys would think he was “whipped” and whatnot but I sort of respected him for it. He wasn’t chained down by Laura (for that was her name) and he still lived his life and partied every weekend. And the fact that he never cheated on her showed that he was honest. Ben may have lacked a few morals – in his past he had done a number of things that were pretty bold (for lack of a better word) – but at least he had enough respect for another human being such as Laura as to never deceive her.

I took the honesty he used with Laura as a sign that he would be honest to me, as well. And that’s why I was here now. I needed to ask him something.

“So ask me it already,” he said as he took a swig from his beer. Looking at him, I saw that he had grown a goatee on his chin that matched his scraggly black hair. There was a sort of dark, exotic glint in his eyes, maybe Greek or something, and his tanner-than-average skin only further proved this theory. I never really thought about where people were from; I only thought about where they were now. Ethnicity meant nothing to me.

He was a bit irritated that I had dragged him away from his day’s activities; The Shenanigang was currently out on the Lake, lounging around in tubes and inflatable rafts with a floating cooler filled with ice cold beers. I’m not really sure how they ever managed to find an unsinkable cooler, but then again, The Shenanigang was capable of pretty much everything, and they were especially determined when it came to getting alcohol. It’s just who they were. Anyway, I didn’t see why drinking out on the Lake was so important to Ben, considering how his friends did it every single afternoon, but nevertheless he was annoyed that I was taking up his time.

Since I had been the one who asked him for advice, he had taken the liberty to choose the place where he would be giving the advice: in the local bar. Since I was underage, we weren’t allowed to sit at the bar, but Ben was still able to order a drink or two. I guess that was his way of compensating for the drinks he could have been having with his friends right now. I tried to lighten the mood by reminding him that at least there was air conditioning in here (today had been one of those unbearably hot days), but all he did was grunt and shrug and take another drink of his beer.

“Well, okay,” I said awkwardly, deciding that it was about time that I asked him the damn question already. “There’s this girl…”

Ben chuckled, though the smile did not meet his eyes. I noted how grumpy he was when he was sober. “I thought you lost your virginity years ago,” he snorted in a brogue that sounded like a Georgia drawl with a bit of a Tennessee twang. I didn’t know where his home-home was; I had never bothered to ask. I suddenly realized that I knew very little about him.

“I did,” I said irritably, even though it had only been one year rather than multiple. “That’s not what I was going to ask you. Do you know Candace?”

“The Harlow doll? Yeah, I fuckin’ know her,” he grumbled, though I could tell that he was now more interested in our conversation than his beer, which was a good sign. “That girl knows some nasty pranks. Once she put sugar in my boat engine and destroyed it just because I almost ran her dog over.”

I sighed. Typical Candace. I hoped that Ben didn’t hold a grudge against her since I had been counting on him to be unbiased in this situation. That’s why I had come here in the first place – he was the only one who I could talk to without worrying about what he would think of me.

“I like her, though, I guess,” he shrugged. “She’s got an attitude problem, in a good way. If she was born a few years earlier, she’d definitely be a part of The Shenanigang. Everyone would’ve liked her.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” I said. “So, um, yeah. My question.” I was nervous. I was going to ask him whether I should run off with Candace or not…but I wasn’t nervous about whether he was going to call me crazy, or if he was going to laugh in my face for being so attached to a girl; like I said, he was nonjudgmental. And I wasn’t worried that he would care about my welfare, because I knew perfectly well that he didn’t. Which was a good thing. He was the only person I could ask that wouldn’t ask where I was going, nor would he tell anyone where I went. My secret would be safe with him.

I was worried that he would say no and that I shouldn’t go. I wanted to go – trust me, I did – but I needed some sort of reassurance from someone. Yes, I was an independent person and I could make decisions for myself…but disappearing from the face of the planet was sort of a big deal. And if Ben, my childhood hero, said that this could be a good idea, then I would feel better about doing the whole thing.

“I’m waiting,” Ben said and raised an eyebrow.

I took in a deep breath, counted to three quickly, and in one single exhalation of air I told him my whole story. I told him about Candace and her spontaneity and her crazy idea and her need to get out of this place. He nodded in all of the right places, but said nothing until I was finished.

“Well,” he said once I was done and leaned back in his chair. He placed his empty beer bottle on the table and motioned the waiter to fetch him another. “How do you feel about all of this?”

“W-What?” I asked, surprise etched onto my face.

“You just spent a solid five minutes telling me all about Candace and the things she says and the things she does. What about you?”

“Um…”

“You’ve got to have some sort of an opinion on this, man. I mean, yeah, liking a girl is good – fucking wonderful, and I would know – but you can’t let it control your life. Love isn’t an obsession.”

“It’s not love,” I said hastily, since Candace and I had only been together for a week – and hell, we weren’t even really ‘together.’ But Ben only raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I sighed. “I guess I sort of want to go. Whatever she wants, I want.”

“That’s not a good enough answer,” he said. “You need to know what you want. Ignore her for a minute.”

“I want…” I trailed off. What did I really want? Well, that was an easy question to answer: I wanted her. Wherever she was, I would be. “I want to go.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“What about your mom, and her parents, and all your friends who will be wondering where you are – “

“I said I’m sure.”

Ben grinned. “Well then, kid, you have your answer. You go with her.”

I grinned.

“Your disappearing act better be a good one,” he added, “‘cause you gotta pray that no one will ever find you.”



When I returned to my house, I half-expected Candace to be sitting on my bed, waiting patiently; she had a tendency to break through my window since the lock had been broken long ago.

But she wasn’t there. Everything was in order – except for a small sheet of paper laying on my night stand. I smiled. So she had been in here. She had been too impatient to wait, I guess; how typical.

I unfolded the paper and only found one line written on it: FW + SL. Meet me only if you’re coming.

I frowned. Meet her? Meet her where? And what did FW and SL stand for – oh. The Willow.

I wasted no more time. I grabbed a medium-sized duffel bag hiding in the depths of my closet and began stuffing it with clothes, clean underwear, tooth paste, a tooth brush, my wallet…what else would I need? iPhone? Yeah, definitely. If I was going to escape Dayton for a week without a trace, having a device that allowed people to locate me seemed contradictory – but I figured I should bring it just in case. I shrugged and put it in my bag, making sure to turn it off first. I’d only turn it on if I really needed it, I promised myself. I was sure to pack the charger for it as well; I would feel pretty damn stupid if I did turn it on for that ‘just in case’ moment and then the battery died.

I took one glance in my mirror and looked at myself critically. My unruly brown hair, which was usually pretty dark in color, had gotten much lighter because of the sunshine. I definitely needed a haircut sometime soon. My face was tanner, clashing magnificently with my sea green eyes, and my slightly sunburned nose was tinted pink and the skin was chapping a little. I definitely looked like I had been in the sun for way too long.

And I looked too much like my fucking father. I was like a living reminder of him, the trash that he left behind and forgot to pick up. My mom took it harder than I did, though; sometimes she would look at me and I could see the hurt in her eyes. Do you have any idea how bad that sucked? It was like I was being punished for his mistake.

But I didn’t want to think about that asshole now. I never wanted to think about him. So I did what I usually did: I pushed those thoughts into the dark corner of my mind and focused all of my attention on something else.

My gaze fell on the clock on my wall and I stared at it more intently than I really needed to. But by focusing on this, I could forget about him easier. Time to leave. This is what I thought about instead. It’s 5:17 p.m. and it’s time to fucking leave.

Glancing around my room one final time, I headed out my door and made a beeline to the front door.

“Where are you going?”

My mother’s voice was soft but accusing. I was grateful my back was turned to her otherwise she would have seen the pained cringe on my face. I didn’t want anyone to know about my abrupt road trip, not even my mother. I know it was terrible, but both Candace and Ben had told me the same thing: I couldn’t tell anyone where Candace and I were going. It would defeat the purpose of “disappearing for a while.”

“I’m going camping out on Blueberry Island with Johnny Boy,” I replied, turning around and looking her straight in the eye as I lied through my teeth. “I’ll be home in the morning.”

That wouldn’t be the first time I lied to my mother. And that wouldn’t be the first time I disappointed her.

Her eyes, which were the same color as mine, warmed a bit and she nodded approvingly. She had always liked Johnny Boy. “Have fun,” she told me.

Sometimes I really didn’t think I was any better than my dad. The moments when I felt this way were rare and short-lived, but they still happened. This was one of those moments. What I was doing was rash and stupid and inconsiderate to those who cared about me. They would be worried sick. And how could I lie to my mother like this? Hadn’t she endured enough pain as it was?

But there was no turning back now.

“Bye, Mom.”

Before I could change my mind about this whole thing, I jumped into my cobalt blue Mustang and screeched out of the driveway, taking the winding back roads to get to the marsh area faster.

While driving, I realized that I was really grateful it was summer. If this was during the school year, I would have never even considered doing this in my entire lifetime. I know that all of the awesome heroes in books and movies would have eagerly gone on an adventure like this, whether it was during the school year or not – but come on, this was real life. As much as America idolized these movie heroes, and as much as we all believed that that was how we should be living our lives, it was far from the truth. In reality, we were chained down by rules and school and society and all that typical shit. We didn’t just disregard the rules; we couldn’t.If I had missed a week of school, I would have come back with a month’s worth of detentions, a crap load of homework to make up, a few F’s on the tests that I missed…there wasn’t much freedom to be found in life.

But in summer I could do anything. And I could definitely run away for a little bit without having to worry too much about the consequences.

Soon enough I reached the dead end. I got out of the car, leaving the keys in it (there was no one around to steal it, anyway), and I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. However, I tossed it back into the car as an afterthought, knowing that I would be coming back here anyway. We were going to make our escape in this car.

I followed the same path I had travelled yesterday, and when I arrived at the tree house – there she was.

I had expected her to be happy when she saw me. I wanted a wide smile to blossom over her face at the sight of me. I mean, I had done all of this for her, and making her happy had been my main goal. Her smile would have been my thanks.

But instead she was frowning and a forlorn expression had set over her features. Her soft honey eyes her focused on the Weeping Willow and her delicate fingers were tracing the FW + SL over and over again.

“It’s dying,” she murmured.

“What?” I asked, astonished. “You mean the tree? No, it looks totally fine – “

“The leaves have started turning brown,” she interrupted in the same soft voice. She still wasn’t looking at me. “I came back here three times today and the leaves…they’re falling.”

I looked at the ground and, sure enough, several of the silvery leaves were scattered beneath my feet.

“All trees lose their leaves,” I choked out, unable to believe that the tree – even though it was probably hundreds of years old by now – was withering away. It didn’t seem possible its life slip away so passively. A being as massive and as powerful as this didn’t just leave as silent as a whisper; no, it had to come crashing down and announce to the world in a booming voice that it was dying. That seemed like the natural way to go. It couldn’t just die.

“Not in the middle of July,” she countered. “When a tree dies, the leaves are the first to go.”

Its branches were almost bare; I had hardly noticed it yesterday. She was right, it was dying. I felt so helpless because I couldn’t do anything about it. Yeah, I know it was just a dumb plant, but…it was the fucking Weeping Willow. It was supposed to last forever.

We were quiet for a long time.

It was her voice that broke the silence. “You came.” She turned to me and finally, finally she gave me the smile that I had been waiting for.

I couldn’t help but find her grin contagious and my mood immediately lightened. “Of course I did,” I said and walked over to her, pressing her against my chest and kissing her temple.

“I thought you would never show up.”

“That just proves how stupid you are.”

Her grin broadened and she took her hand in mind. “Come on,” she said and began to walk back towards where the car was parked. “Let’s go.”

Of course, I happily obliged and followed after her. “Where are we going first?” I asked.

She snorted. “Like hell I would know.”

I rolled my eyes. Leave it up to Candace to not plan out a single thing.