Awful Direction

It was early Saturday night when Devon received an unexpected knock on her door. Her grandmother had gone out, as she usually did on the weekends, and left Devon to take care of the house. It was funny watching Michelle treat her thousand dollar palace (which wasn’t really a palace at all, but rather an unreasonably large mansion) as if it were her child. Always cleaning it (well, paying people to clean it), buying presents for it, and sacrificing Devon’s Saturday nights to babysit it while she went out. And while she typically never had plans anyway, Devon still didn’t appreciate Michelle throwing her responsibilities out the window for Devon to catch. You’d be surprised how intolerant old women are to alcoholic beverages.

She’d been tempted to phone her father while Michelle was out gallivanting through Tempe. It had been too long since Devon had heard his voice, let alone had any sign he was okay without her. Michelle had her granddaughter up to her eyeballs in errands and private meetings; there was no time for personal phone calls. Which was precisely what Devon had wanted when coming to Arizona, a busy schedule to take her mind off things. However, she never thought her own grandmother—selfish as she was—would treat family like a slave.

Evidently, Devon had severely underestimated Michelle’s self-interest.

Right as her fingers grazed the telephone, three knocks echoed through the hallway. Breathing a sigh of almost relief, Devon shot from her spot at the kitchen table and ran for the door. Naturally she was plenty worried of her father’s well-being (considering they’d never been separated before), but there was no telling who Devon would call if she had the chance.

What lied behind the door was, to say the least, a surprise.

“Uhh.”

“Best friend!” Pat screeched with a toothy grin, “What’s up?”

“You’re at my house,” she replied, sort of bewildered.

“Yes I am. Are you going to make me stand in the cold or what?”

Her mind was saying this was shady, but there was no denying the puppy dog look in Pat’s big brown eyes. Instead of saying anything, Devon merely moved to the side and watched as Pat nonchalantly strolled into her house without any explanation as to how he might’ve found her. Or what the hell he was doing here in the first place.

“You didn’t tell me you were Michelle Hennings’ granddaughter,” Pat spoke up, poking around old family photos, “She’s like a big celebrity in Tempe, you know.”

Devon didn’t know, and now that she did her resentment towards her grandmother only doubled. She’d been pestered with enough questions back home in Washington; she never thought her grandmother’s shadow would follow her all the way to Tempe. The woman hardly ever set foot out the door without a phone to her ear and a first-class plane ticket to California. Frankly the only reason she allowed Devon to visit was so she could handle the work piling up in Arizona. It was shocking how the public couldn’t see a greedy monster when it was standing right in front of them. In Seattle everyone imagined Michelle to be this flawless, kind-hearted woman simply incapable of succumbing to greed; exactly the woman she portrayed in dozens of interviews. The truth of the matter is a greedy monster is precisely what Michelle had become always been, actually. It was disappointing because Devon had hoped the people of Arizona would be smarter than what they saw on television. Pat just was another crazed fan plotting to use Devon for an autograph.

“How’d you find me?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged and, without so much as batting an eyelash, replied, “Internet.”

Devon almost choked on her words. Pat had answered her so blatantly, it was almost scary. As though he hadn’t just admitted to stalking her or her grandmother. An awkward silence dangled over their heads as Devon stared at Pat completely awestruck. It wasn’t until he howled with laughter that she finally recomposed herself.

“I’m kidding, Devy! My mom works for your grandmother.”

“She does?”

He smiled proudly. “Yup. She’s her executive assistant or something. All those meetings you’ve been going to? My mom set them up. Have you ever seen her before?”
Devon thought for a second; Michelle had almost twenty assistants attending to her every need.

“Marie?”

“No,” Pat laughed.

“Alyssa?”

“Guess again.”

“Sarah?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the p.

She could see Pat was enjoying himself, as if this were some sort of guessing game. For a kid that looked no younger than eighteen, he was quite childish. As though he’d never lost the innocence from childhood. Perhaps, on a different occasion, Devon might’ve shied away from Pat’s friendship. Guys like him—exciting, fun, direct—typically freaked her out. However, seeing that she knew hardly anyone in Tempe, Devon was in no position to turn away a possible friend.

“Laura?”

“Bingo!”

“You’re a Kirch!” she smiled, “I’ve heard about you. Laura talks about you all the time.”

He blushed a little. “God, really?”

“Mhm, she never misses an opportunity to brag about her kids. It’s cute.”

“Whatever you say,” Pat shrugged, “Back to business though! I need your help.”

“You need my help?” she repeated.

He nodded, “Yes. I have a problem.”

“Okay?”

“I’m going on a date tonight.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yes! It’s my first date! I’m freaking out Devon! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! What do girls like on first dates? Is it too soon to kiss her? Not like, full on making out. Just a peck. Is it too soon? Is dinner and a movie too cliché? What do I do?!”

“You expect me teach you how to be the perfect date in only a few hours?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

Pat shook his head frantically, clearly growing frustrated with Devon’s cluelessness. While he re-explained his ‘problems’ she looked over his petite, thin figure clad in a plaid, short-sleeved button up, and dark blue skinny jeans. On his feet was a pair of torn Converse, held together by black duck tape, and his shoulder length brown hair was still damp from a recent shower. This kid really was inexperienced, but he’d come to the wrong girl for advice.

“Of course not, that’s impossible! I want you to come with me.” He smiled excitedly.

“W-what?” Her jaw dropped for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

“Come with me! You know, like a double date! Please, I can’t do this alone; I’ll mess everything up!”

“Pat, I don’t know anyone to go on a date with.”

Her mind was racing for any plausible excuse to use. Anything to get her out of a blind date. Not even the award winning movies could make those look comfortable. Devon was an awkward person as it is, and she’d never been good with first impressions. Arizona was a fresh start and she was about to blow it all just because a friend asked.

“I’ll set you up with Kenny or something, it’s fine,” he answered in a rush, “Please Dev, I’m begging you! Please, please, please, please, please! My brothers are all off working or something and my mom is an old woman! I have no one to help me out here!”

Electricity shot up her spine as she fully witnessed the power of Pat’s big eyes. She was familiar with the desperate expression on his face, and she could still feel—to this day—the adrenaline that came minutes before a first date. Like him, she’d been completely alone. Her father was working late, as he usually did, and she’d never been close enough to any friends to ask for advice. And her mom was, well, gone. It was with this thought in mind that Devon grabbed her coat from the closet without a word and found herself in the passenger seat of Pats hand-me-down mini-van. As they turned away from her grandmother’s neighborhood, Devon couldn’t shake off the feeling she was getting caught up in a peculiar friendship.

*~*

When John agreed to follow Pat on his date, he didn’t think everyone else would be invited too; nor did he think Pat would hunt down Devon to keep him company. Yet there she was, in all her glory, awkwardly sipping her Diet Coke from across the table. Keeping her eyes locked on the book lying on her lap. John took it as an opportunity to thoroughly check her out for the first time since they’d met.

You couldn’t tell from her smooth, sun-kissed skin that she’d grown up in a city surrounded by thunder clouds (Devon had briefly mentioned she moved from Seattle when she and John first met). Her chocolate brown curls fell messily over her shoulders in a way that appeared almost intentional and her lips were the perfect size and shade of pink. They curled up into a half smile every now and then, causing the rest of the group to smile along with her. She was tall, something John had noticed since they first met, and obviously had no idea what to do with her limbs; they always seemed to get in her way. Even so, she had the grace of a ballerina. All those things were irrelevant to John though, because he found himself most intrigued by her eyes.

They weren’t really anything special, just a pair of almond colored eyes. But that’s what he liked about them; they weren’t the kind of eyes that craved attention. They didn’t ask anything of you, or tempt you in immoral ways; they were just a pair of muddy brown eyes shaded by two rows of long eyelashes.

Devon looked up, for only a moment, and when she did John thought of Daisy. He flashed back to their first date together, and fought back the urge to throw up. The entire night had been a complete disaster, but Daisy loved every moment of it. John had been trying so hard to impress her; buying her the most expensive meal, using the smartest words in his vocabulary, leaving the waiter a generous tip. However, it all went downhill once the food arrived. First he spilled his Sprite down the front of her skirt, then accidentally squirted ketchup all over himself when it was stuck in the bottle, the waiter shamelessly handed Daisy his number in the checkbook, and finally right as John kissed her goodnight he realized he had garlic breath. God knows what made her call him back, but sure enough a day later they were talking all night.

Agreeing to help Pat was suddenly the worst thing John had ever done; he desperately wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep for the rest of the year. That was the only place he’d ever get to experience another date with Daisy.

“Excuse me,” the waitress said, “What would you like to eat?”

John cleared his throat awkwardly and closed his menu.

“I’m actually not hungry, thanks.”

She simply shrugged and went around the rest of the table asking everyone what they wanted.

“Are you as uncomfortable as I am right now?”

John looked up to see Devon folding the corner of her page, staring at him expectantly.

He smiled a little. “Depends. How uncomfortable are you?”

“Quite.”

“Then yes,” he chuckled, “We are on the same level of discomfort.”

“God I really suck a first dates,” she laughed, and then paused. “Is this even a date for me? I’m really just here to coach Pat.”

“Same. Although I didn’t think he’d invite all of us to come with him. It looks so lame.”

Devon shrugged. “Brittany doesn’t seem to mind. I think she’s having fun.”

They both stared at the small figure in front of Pat, playing with her straw and laughing carelessly. They were the poster children for a perfect couple. Devon sort of envied them, wishing she had someone to look cute with, while John felt sick to his stomach, silently wishing his special someone would walk through the door and make the grand entrance she always had.

“Did you and your girlfriend look like that?”

John was surprised she even remembered him talking about Daisy. Actually, he thought he’d been hearing things until he saw she was staring at him expectantly waiting for an answer. He clicked his silverware together and kept his eyes on his reflection in the spoon, staring up at him with miserable green eyes.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, “Other times we looked horrible together.”

“Really?”

“Yup. We fought a whole lot, but I still loved every single minute of her.”

“Shame she left,” Devon mumbled sympathetically.

Before he made a scene, John quickly changed the subject. “So do you have a boyfriend back home?”

“Nope,” she replied, “The only man in my life is my ol’ man. And I like it that way.”

“You’ve never been in one relationship?”

She sighed for a long time before answering. “I did, but I realized I wasn’t ready for a relationship. My head wasn’t where it was supposed to be, you know? So now it’s just me and my books.” She held up Looking for Alaska and grinned from ear to ear.

“Is it any good?”

She didn’t answer; Devon simply stared at John for a long minute. As if trying to see inside of him through his eyes. Finally she curled her lips into a tight line and asked, “How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?”

“What?”

“It’s a question Alaska asks Miles in the book. Kind of. ‘How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?’ and she goes on to question whether the labyrinth is living or dying. I don’t know, I think it’s a good question. This girl really knows what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, I see.”

“So?”

He blinked. “So, what?”

“How will you get out of the labyrinth?”

Pat interrupted before John could answer. Good thing too, because John hadn’t the slightest idea what Devon was going on about. He asked if she liked a book and she jabbered about some labyrinth that was either living or dying. It was very philosophical for a pretend first date. John couldn’t decide whether Devon was simply out of her mind, or too smart for an average individual to comprehend.

“I’m running out of things to talk about, what do I do?”

“Well, what did you ask her?” Devon asked.

“I asked her about her favorite things. Favorite food, favorite pass time, favorite show. Even her favorite color for Godsake!”

“Jesus Pat you’ve spent ten minutes asking her about her favorite things?”

“Why? What’s wrong? You said I should get to know her!”

“That’s hardly getting to know her,” Devon giggled, “Just talk about whatever comes up. This isn’t an interview, you don’t have to beat her with questions. Just…talk!”
As Pat nervously turned back to Brittany, John couldn’t help but laugh. “For a single lady you sure do know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to be in a relationship to know these things,” she pointed out, “I’m a girl, I know what a girl generally likes to talk about on first dates. Personally I just want to talk. Save that getting-to-know-you crap for date two or something. The first date, it all depends on whether you can hold a conversation or not.”

The way she saw things intrigued John. Devon was very straightforward, whether she realized it herself or not, and rather intelligent for a girl her age. She could’ve been an old woman in a twenty year olds body and John honestly wouldn’t be surprised. She asked questions you’d never think were important and was more interested in figuring people out for herself rather than asking questions back and forth like a normal couple. Honestly it was way more fun playing the games her way than the way everyone else did. As the waitress passed around everyone’s food, John watched Devon dig in and smiled his famous crooked smile.

“So,” he said, dragging out the o until he had her attention, “Hypothetically speaking. If we really were on a date right now, would I be passing?”

Devon swallowed hard and stared at John curiously for a second. He counted to five before she smiled, took another bite of chicken parmesan, and with a mouth full of food replied, “Very funny, John.”