If I'd Known Read online

“I’m not a little girl, Charlotte. I’m twenty-one years old.”

  I laugh. “That’s what you keep telling me.”

  We make our way back to the house, and I see her scooter in the driveway. “Is that all you drive?” I ask.

  “Hey, don’t hate on my Vespa. It’s a classic.”

  I chuckle. “Not hating, just wondering. I’m not sure we’ll both fit on it, so we can take my car to eat.”

  “That’s fine with me. Let me put my helmet and bag inside.”

  ––––

  We sit at the rustic diner in a booth toward the end of the bar. Life preservers hang on the walls, along with nets and signs that read Beach life is better. The waitress places Cynthia’s coffee down and sets my sweet tea in front of me. The pale blue walls and white leather seats make this place feel like it should––North Carolina beachy.

  I tap my straw against the table and pull the wrapper off. With purple streaks and pink toes, Cynthia takes the sugar container and tips it upside down.

  “You want some coffee with that sugar?” I ask her.

  She smiles. “Don’t judge.”

  After five creams, she seems to be happy with her caffeine. Reaching over, she slides her notebook out of her polka dot bag. I take a sip of my tea and look out the window at the sailboats resting by the docks. A man and woman walk with a kid between them. His hands are in each of theirs, and they lift and swing him high in the air.

  “Did your parents ever do that with you?” I ask as I look back at her. She turns her attention to the window and puts a stray piece of black-purple hair behind her ear.

  “No,” she says. She stares off at them, seeming to get lost in her own mind. And it’s at this moment it really sinks in. She’s had something taken away from her, too, and I don’t think I’m the only one with a story here.

  “How old is your aunt?” I ask her.

  She looks back at me and clears her throat. “She’s twenty-seven.”

  “Wow, y’all are that close in age?” I ask.

  “Yes, she’s my dad’s younger sister and the only family I have. Like your mom, my aunt saved me as well. I wasn’t easy to deal with for a while,” she says.

  “I can’t picture you being hard to deal with,” I say to her.

  She shrugs. “Well, I was.” She turns away and looks back out the window. The family has moved on, and I see something haunting show on her pretty face, but when she looks back at me, it disappears.

  Cynthia lifts her cup to her lips and hums as she takes a sip. Today she has on bangle bracelets, each one a different color, covered in glitter. She reminds me of a sparkly rainbow after a long summer shower. She puts down the cup and grabs her glasses case from her bag. Sliding them on, she grabs her notebook and pen, obviously ready to get down to business.

  “So tell me more about Travis,” she says. I grab my heart-shaped pendant on my neck and toy with it as I think about the boy who stole my heart so many years ago.

  “Travis Cole had a heart of gold. I knew that as a girl, but I really got to know his heart later in life.” I move my straw around, stirring my ice.

  “Regardless of his golden heart, though, Travis Cole was a bad boy.”

  “A bad boy?” Cynthia gives me a sly grin. “Look at you, Charlotte Harris.”

  I scoff and feel my cheeks pinking. “Hush, now.” I dismiss her with my hand. “Anyway, he got into some fights and drank a little too much, and smoked grass and cigarettes as I’ve already told you. It’s just where he came from and how he grew up. He had a few alcoholics in his family and they all smoked grass.”

  “There you go saying grass again,” Cynthia says.

  “Well, what would you have me call it?” I ask with a lifted brow.

  She shrugs as she reaches for the sugar container for the second time.

  “Loud, Jazz Cabbage, I dunno,” she says as she adds a little more sugar and twirls the spoon around in her coffee.

  I cover my mouth to keep from spitting my tea out. “Jazz Cabbage?” I repeat.

  “Hey, I didn’t make up these names,” she says. The waitress walks over with our plates, and I grab the salt.

  “So, he smoked Jazz Cabbage as you call it.” I smile as I trade out the salt for my strawberry jelly pack. “I remember one time Jennie and I were riding in his car. Travis and his brother, Mason, were smoking. She leaned over to me and said, ‘Don’t breathe it in or you’ll get high.’ I got as close as I could toward the cracked window.”

  Cynthia giggles.

  “We were so naïve,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Regardless of Travis’ bad choices and your mother’s feelings, you couldn’t stay away from him?” she asks.

  “No, I couldn’t. Travis Cole became my reason to get up every day. Knowing I would see his handsome face was everything to me.”

  Cynthia chews on a piece of bacon.

  “Our relationship happened quickly,” I tell her. “The next weekend we hung out again at Taylor Creek Bridge, which was the local hangout for all the teenagers. It was a medium-sized bridge that no one used anymore. Had a creek running under it. Some railroad tracks and an embankment set off to the side of the flowing water, and an enormous strangler fig tree was already latching onto the bridge twirling its vines around the railing…”

  ––––

  June 1973

  With the sun at our backs, Jennie and I sway our feet over Taylor Creek Bridge. Jennie blows the biggest bubble with her Bazooka gum, and I poke it, causing it to pop all over her nose.

  We both laugh as she takes the gum out of her mouth and tries to get it off her face. A boy she kinda likes calls her down by the fire, and Jennie grins at me.

  “Did I get it all off?” she asks.

  “You’re bubble gum free,” I tell her as she pops it back into her mouth and stands up. Her ruby red hair sits in a high ponytail, swinging in her face as she slips her shoes back on.

  “Wanna come down, too?”

  I look behind her, seeing Travis walk up. She follows my gaze before turning back to me.

  “I’m good,” I tell her.

  She gives me a knowing smile.

  “Mind if I take your seat?” Travis asks Jennie as she walks by him.

  “It’s all yours,” she replies.

  I watch as he holds onto the railing and sits beside me. Butterflies take flight inside my stomach, and my skin tingles.

  “How you like living here?” he asks.

  “I guess we could live somewhere worse.”

  He chuckles. “That good, huh?”

  I laugh and look down, putting a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “No, I love it. I love the beach.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” I reply indifferently.

  “It’s cool,” he mocks softly. I hit his shoulder with mine.

  “Hey, Travis. Come shotgun a beer with me,” Mason says. He looks down.

  “You go on ahead. I’m good, man.”

  “What, you don’t wanna shotgun a beer?” I ask, playfully acting shocked.

  “No,” he says, looking over at me. “I wanna hang out with you.” The boy I’m already addicted to shows me dimples, and my hearts starts pounding––blood rushing and pulse pushing hard against the skin on my neck. He sets his beer down beside him and pulls his soft pack from his front pocket.

  “You seeing anybody here?” he asks as he pats a smoke out.

  “I thought you already asked Jennie that.” I kinda smile as I watch him place the cigarette between his lips.

  “I asked her if you had a boyfriend in Georgia. I haven’t asked her since you moved here.”

  “I’m not seeing anybody,” I tell him, biting my lip.

  “Good,” he replies, cuffing his smoke and striking his lighter.

  “Why is that good?”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d wanna go out with me.” He looks over, slightly narrowing his right eye to keep the drifting smoke out of it. />
  I shrug and look away from him. “I’ll think about it.”

  He chuckles, looking amused. “Okay, you think on it.”

  “Yo, Travis. Let’s go,” Mason yells from the embankment. “This guy right here thinks he can beat your GTO.” I look down at Mason and the guy standing beside him.

  Travis looks over at me with a smile. “Wanna come?” he says.

  “Sure.”

  He stands and reaches for my hand to help me up. I like the feel of his skin on mine, and he must, too, because he doesn’t let go until we get to his car.

  “You’re riding with me,” he says.

  ––––

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I stand on the side of Indian River drive and watch the boys get in their cars. Travis looks laid-back cool, and I don’t see how. Jennie stands in the center of the cars and holds up her hands.

  “Ready?” she calls out.

  Travis nods, and the other guy revs up his motor. She counts loud, and when she gets to three, both cars take off down the road and all I see is headlights in the distance as Travis takes the lead. I look over at Jennie as she cheers, and Mason laughs. “That dumbass,” Mason says. “He knew he couldn’t win against my brother.”

  The sun falls in the evening sky, casting its golden rays over the bridge. With his hand in mine, we walk down, coming to a stop at the spot we were seated at before he won fifty bucks from racing.

  I go to sit, but Travis says, “Hold up.” He looks down below at our friends before tugging on my hand, pulling us away from their sight. I bite my lip as he smiles at me.

  He grabs me closer and places both his hands against my cheeks. I swallow as he leans in, searching my eyes, and I look down at his lips as they grow nearer to mine. When he kisses me, tingles crawl up my back. I feel everything. His hands— rough from working, his lips—soft, yet firm, the brush of his tongue against mine, and my heart as it beats fiercely against my ribcage.

  ––––

  “I can still remember the way he smelled after the golden rays disappeared and the bright moonlight took its place––like grass and summertime air,” I tell Cynthia as I breathe in. “Everything disappeared when we kissed. Our friends below the bridge, Mama’s fear of me being with a boy who wasn’t perfect to her but what perfect meant to me. Nothing mattered or existed except for us. I was completely gone after that. Being around Travis was fun and exciting, but kissing Travis…” I look down, slightly embarrassed to be talking about this with such a young girl, but I feel as though Cynthia is older on the inside. I look up at her and see a small smile on her lips and recognition in her eyes. This girl has been kissed like that, too.

  “Go on,” she says encouragingly.

  “Kissing him was my new favorite thing to do. And boy, did we do a lot of it.” I laugh. “I landed a job at a small furniture store doing their books not too long after we got settled. My lunch breaks consisted of very little eating and a whole lot of Travis.”

  ––––

  June 1973

  I giggle as we round a building downtown. Travis has my hand in his, and as soon as we are out of sight, he pushes me up against the cement wall. His lips find mine, and his fingers go to my hair. My hands move to his biceps and grip for dear life, like my hold is keeping me on the ground.

  The sky is bright above us, the clouds spreading out in just the right places. The sun’s beaming down, warming us on the outside, but he’s warming everything on the inside.

  He pulls back and searches my eyes before he looks down at my lips.

  “You gotta go back to work?” he asks me.

  I frown. “Yes.”

  He places his forehead against mine, and we say nothing for a moment, just breathing each other in, but then he says, “I like you, Charlotte.”

  I smirk. “I like you, too.” If that’s what you want to call it. Like. I look down at our shoes, feeling his small breaths against my face as he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses each finger softly, gently.

  “I mean, I really like you.” He moves his head back, and his eyes dance over my face.

  I swallow.

  “Kiss me,” he says, and I don’t hesitate. I kiss him with everything inside of me. I hand him my soul right here in this alleyway. He exerts passion and makes me feel alive, like I’m the only thing that matters.

  ––––

  Later that night, I walk into my house and hear Mama talking with some friends of hers.

  “Is that you, Charlotte?”

  “Yes.” I make my way to the kitchen, still tasting Travis’ lips. After work, I met back up with him. We left our friends and parked his GTO in a parking lot near the beach.

  We walked barefoot across the sand and threw a blanket down before we got lost in each other. We talked about everything––his mama and stepdad. He told me he didn’t like him, and they didn’t get along for shit. His words, not mine.

  We had to keep a watch on time, though, because movies only lasted so long. In between talking, we kissed and explored—boy, did we explore. And I was falling more in love every moment we were together.

  “Did you have a good time with Jennie?” Mama asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I reach up and grab a glass from the cabinet.

  “Yep.” I fill my glass with water from the sink and take a few sips.

  “What’s on your neck?” Mama asks with a wrinkle between her brow. I put my hand up to my skin and rub. Flashes of me all over him in his car make my insides warm, and I try to control the blush rising from my chest.

  The hot, humid breeze passes through the windows of his GTO as my bare legs dig into the leather of his seat. My shirt is sticking to my skin, and sweat slides down my back. He controls my lips and consumes my mind. Every emotion possible fills my chest, and I’m hot and needy as I straddle his lap. There are too many clothes, not enough room, and not enough time to do what I’d really like to. I pull back, and he notices.

  “You okay?” he asks, a little out of breath.

  “I gotta go in.”

  He moves, and I feel how I make him feel between my legs. He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I don’t want to,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure if Mama found me parked down the road in your car, she’d never let me leave the house again.”

  He smirks and opens his door. I climb out and breathe in as the wind cools my hot skin.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask as he grabs his pack of smokes.

  “If not before then,” he says, giving me a wink. He pulls my arm, making me lean down and kiss him again. His mouth opens, and his tongue touches mine. I pull back.

  “I gotta go!” I laugh, thinking if we start that again, I’ll never get home.

  “Your loss.” He winks, and I shake my head, thinking how right he is.

  “Bye,” I call out as the car roars to life. He shuts the door, and I hurry down the road, hearing his tires screech as he guns it at the stop sign.

  “Jennie was straightening my hair and accidentally burned me with the iron.” I come up with the lie so quickly I surprise myself.

  “You two need to be more careful. Let me get you something to put on that.” Mama stands up from her chair, and I see her friends eyeballing me a little closer. Nosy bitches. Mama takes the top off and goes to put some ointment on her finger.

  “I can do it,” I say, taking the tube from her hand.

  “Okay,” she says like I hurt her feelings. I feel bad, so I give her a smile and kiss her cheek before I put my glass down.

  “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll put this on. Goodnight, ladies.”

  “Night,” they all reply slowly as if they’re trying to figure me out.

  “That girl sure has been going to the movies a lot,” one says. I stop and listen.

  “Well, there’s not much else for a teenager to do,” Mama replies.

  “But four or five times in a week?” another says. I wanna walk back in there and tel
l them to mind their own business, but instead, I walk away from the room and toward mine. With a deep sigh, I close the door behind me and toss the medicine onto my bed. I can’t help the smile that takes over my face and the giddy feeling I have in my chest.

  ––––

  “Charlotte Harris, you got a hickey?” Cynthia puts her coffee cup on the edge of the table with a grin.

  “I got plenty of hickeys,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “And your mom really thought you burnt your neck on an iron?”

  I take a bite of my toast and shrug. After I chew, I say, “She wouldn’t have any reason to think I was lying. I was a very good kid.”

  “Until Travis came along.”

  I narrow my eyes and look out the window. “I guess you could say that, but it was never him making me lie. He hated it. He wanted nothing more than to pick me up from my house. To walk up to my door and ask Mama if he could take me out. But that could never happen. Hell, every time he called, she’d take the phone from me and hang it up.”

  “She really disliked him that much?” Cynthia asks as she puts salt in her grits.

  “Yes, she did. Those friends of hers filled her head with so much bullshit, she couldn’t see the forest for the trees.”

  “I know you hated that.”

  “I did,” I reply. “But it didn’t stop me from seeing him every chance I could…”

  ____

  June 1973

  I’m lying on the bed with my feet propped up on the wall, listening to my records when I hear something hit my bedroom window. I turn to look and hear it again. Twisting around, I plant my feet on the floor and stand to walk over. I grin when I see it’s Travis. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he looks bad boy sexy. Looking back, I make sure my door is closed all the way and I let my window up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I wanted to see you. Come out.”

  “I just saw you a few hours ago.”

  “So?” he says it like what the hell does that matter. I shake my head at his smirk and think for a moment. Mama’s been asleep for a little while now, so maybe she won’t notice.