Yes, No, Maybe So - Chapter Four
A Story of Love, Grief & Toilet Phones
Star the story here:
Song for this chapter (but, like, minus the crime):
The Past
My car idled in front of the Speller family’s house. Today’s plan was for Rocky to tell her parents that she was quitting the family restaurant. She would explain that her aspirations weren’t to manage a failing restaurant, to waste her potential when she could be striving toward something great. Then I was supposed to swoop in with my fifteen-year-old, secondhand car to rescue her from the wrath of her mother.
I’d been sitting in their driveway for about two minutes, texting her that I was here and asking her where she was without receiving a response. I was about to kill the engine when the front door burst open, swinging wide open and then bouncing back.
In a flurry of suitcases and bulging garbage bags, Rocky flew from her childhood home, her wild curls catching the morning sunlight and creating angry flames around her head. Hot on her heels was Colleen Speller.
“—ruining your life!” screamed Mrs. Speller, shaking her fist at her daughter.
Rocky and her mom had more in common than either of them would like to admit. They were both stubborn to a fault, totally convinced that their way was the best way, and in possession of fast-flaring tempers. Not to mention that Rocky was the spitting image of Mrs. Speller twenty-five years younger.
“Ruining my life?!” Rocky barked a caustic laugh as she threw her luggage into the backseat of my car on top of my own suitcases. “That’s rich coming from you, considering you’ve made it your life’s mission to tear me down until I’m your little clone! It was never my life to ruin, was it?”
As inflammatory as her words were, I wasn’t sure how many of them Mrs. Speller actually heard since the woman hadn’t stopped talking long enough to listen.
“—most disrespectful things I’ve ever heard in my life, Rochelle! We taught you better than this, and here you are throwing away every opportunity you’ve ever been given! Of all the ungrateful things—”
“Ungrateful? Please, Mom, tell me what I have to be grateful for! The anger management problems or the clinical depression?” She shook off Mrs. Speller’s grabbing hands and flung herself into the passenger seat.
“Anna!” Rocky’s mom hammered her fist on the window as she made desperate eyes at me through the glass. “Anna Jeffries, do not move this car!”
Rocky countered with, “Drive, AJ, drive!”
She looked ready to dive over the center console to hit the gas pedal herself, so I hurried to put the car in reverse and peeled into the road. To my absolute horror, Mrs. Speller ran after us, her bathrobe flapping in the wind.
“Rocky, what is she doing?!”
“Acting crazy! Just keep going!”
“But what if I hit her?”
“Then she shouldn’t be playing chicken with a three-thousand-pound vehicle.”
Gritting my teeth, I slammed on the brakes to prevent the car from ramming into the Spellers’ mailbox. Colleen was still running straight for us, the manic gleam in her eyes causing my hands to shake and fumble with the gear shift. Throwing the car in drive, I swerved around Mrs. Speller, tires squealing, and raced down the residential street going fifteen miles over the speed limit. The first red light we hit had me glancing in the mirrors, praying that Rocky’s mom hadn’t jumped into her own car to follow us.
Rocky had to elbow me in the ribs to let me know when the light turned green. Not until we passed the city limits did my knuckles finally relax around the wheel and I breathed a little easier.
“So … that went about how you expected?”
Rocky laughed. “Better, actually. She didn’t throw my bags out the window and set them on fire.”
My gaze darted between this stretch of road and my best friend. Rocky looked lighter than she had in years. She rolled down her window and let the wind whip her hair into a frenzy, smiling the biggest smile I’d ever seen.
Eventually, the pavement was replaced by a dirt country road. We took twists and turns past green fields, white fences, and a rainbow of wildflowers that reached for the sun. The fresh air cleansed the car of tension, leaving me feeling buoyant. I knew exactly how Rocky felt when she started to laugh. She unbuckled and pulled one leg onto her seat. Then she pushed herself up, gripped the sides of the open window, and stuck her head and shoulders outside.
“What are you doing?” I laughed and eased my foot off of the accelerator. Rocky shoved her arms out the window next.
“Woohoo!”
“Rocky!”
I slowed down even more and released the wheel with one hand just in case I needed to grab the back of her shirt. Rocky couldn’t care less. She cackled and whooped into the wind.
Suddenly, she dropped back into the car and thumped my arm with the back of her hand. “AJ, pull over! Pull over!”
“What? Why?”
Alarmed, I tapped the brakes. The tires threw up gravel and dirt as I guided the car to the shoulder of the road. The vehicle wasn’t even in park yet before Rocky had her door open and kicked off her sandals. I fumbled with my buckle then spilled out of the car. Still trying to figure out what was wrong, I watched Rocky sprint up a short, grassy incline. With another whoop, she dropped to the ground and went rolling down the hill.
“Come on, AJ!” She waved her hands in the air for me to join her.
“No!” I laughed. “I’ll get dizzy and puke.”
“Okay, okay.” Rocky picked herself up and brushed the dirt off of her shorts, inadvertently rubbing in the grass stains. “I think I’m ready to meet the new landlord now.”
Back in the car, Rocky tried to turn on the radio, but my speakers were old and made everything sound like it was being filtered through gravel. She started rummaging through the glove compartment, grumbling about my massive CD collection that had the gall to be packed away at the moment.
After a few minutes, she let out a victorious cry and held up a very dusty cassette tape.
“What even is that?” I asked. I hadn’t owned a cassette player since I was a little kid.
“This was a used car when you bought it, right?”
I nodded. An excited glimmer twinkled in Rocky’s eyes.
“Then this probably came from the previous owner. Let’s turn it on!”
The stereo spat out a bubble of static as I switched it over to the cassette player. Rocky impatiently batted my hand out of the way to insert the tape. It clicked and clicked while she pushed the rewind button. When she hit play, the car was filled with a light hum.
The soft sounds of an emotional, classical piano piece brought us into a soothing embrace. Huh, I wasn’t expecting to hear that, but it was nice. I turned up the volume just in time to magnify the obnoxious bleat of sheep laid over the music. Rocky and I looked at each other, mouths agape. Our surprise soon morphed into confusion as the bleating gave way to the honks of many geese. Next came the high-pitched whoops of a gibbon. All the while, the piano played on.
Rocky doubled over, laughing through pursed lips and spitting all over the dashboard.
“What is this?” I wheezed, mirthful tears filling my eyes. I reached for the stereo to turn it down, but Rocky grabbed my wrist.
“No! This is the best thing I’ve ever heard!”
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I wondered, “Where would you even find something like this?”
“Maybe the last owner made it.”
“Buy why?”
“No idea, but we are keeping this tape forever. Hand to God, I will dance to it at my future wedding.”