Twice Shy
Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2019 6:53 am
Traversing Seattle always confused Ami Flynn. The mechanics of how places were mapped out made no sense to her. Bustling city blocks, quiet slices of suburbia and dirty landfills and trailer parks, scattered around without any real logic. It always surprised her to find herself lapping along the outskirts of the city when only minutes ago there were trees all around her. Ami felt apprehensive going to a place she had never been before, even in her late teens.
When she was young it made no difference to her; the last thing she had on her mind was getting from place to place. Her parents always provided that for her.
Even so, the trip over to Maynard Hurst's house always felt surreal no matter how she got there.
Maynard lived only three or four miles from Ami's home. He lived on a residential cul-de-sac, with houses that were made for the atomic family but stumbled over their feet very recently. It was a perfect fit for Maynard. By contrast, Ami's neighborhood was very well-to-do, homes that looked polished obsessively by shoeshiners promised triple. Not even on opposite sides of the city and yet on opposite sides of the world.
Everything in between was strange, too, and the scenery to and from were never the same. Sometimes there would be an expanse of grasslands, sometimes not. Other times they'd to dip inside Bohemia, passing by coffee shops and bright-haired beatniks.
The oddest trip of all had to be when her parents did not drive her at all.
It was a cold November weekend, close to Thanksgiving. Ami was in middle school, proclaimed 'math wizard' by the teacher that always wore those really lame sweaters all year long. That was his cheeky way of saying that she had one of the highest grades in the entire class. She was very proud of this achievement, though never that eager to brag. Not that she really talked much.
Maynard Hurst was the complete opposite. He grasped English liked the back of his hand, and the poetry he showed her was way above middle school level work. They bonded over English, and up until then shared the same English classes. He sucked at math. Maynard was awful. He could barely remember the order of operations let alone any formulas. Ami sometimes saw him shrink in his seat when the teacher was looking for an answer to a question. It was actually kind of sad, though she never told him that.
So it came as no surprise when Maynard snuck up next to Ami during lunch and asked her, sheepishly, afraid of offending, if she could help him study for the test.
Of course, she said yes without thinking.
It wasn't her first time going over to Maynard's but it would be the first time she'd be going over to help someone study. It was also the first time she'd be over to his house when his parents wouldn't be home.
Oh. Also, his parents wouldn't be home.
Maynard told her when he first asked, abashedly telling her they wouldn't be able to get her a ride. Ami thought very little of it at the time. In hindsight, she probably should have worried. Especially a few years later when she started learning about herself and, well, all it goes without saying. But Maynard was a nice boy and he was a good friend. If he needed her help, Ami would certainly try to provide.
There was a problem though; Ami wouldn't be able to get a ride. Her father was busy, her mother was out of town, and she had no idea where her uncle was. Maynard's parents wouldn't be home, obviously, and it wasn't like she or any of her friends could drive yet.
Perhaps it had been impatience, the fear of how Maynard would react to her suddenly canceling or her sheer insistence in wanting to help him. Ami cannot recall the reason. Whatever it was, she figured that instead of waiting for a ride, it would be easier to walk to his house.
It was only 20-something degrees outside. And she had to walk several miles.
It made sense to her at the time.
She had enough sense to put on a light jacket, sweatpants that she had to roll up at the ankles and gloves that made her hands looked comically big. Just the bare minimum though. The cold wasn't about to turn her into an ice cube but it felt enough of an impression to make Ami realize her mistake, and she was kicking herself for half of the trip.
A trip that would have only taken a hour took Ami nearly twice that. She was going in circles for a good period, passing the exact same gas station and feeling scared each and every single time. That was until the gas station attendant came out and, looking a bit weirded out, pointed her in the right direction.
By the time she recognized the hard right that lead into Maynard's neighborhood, her arms were coiled tight around her front, desperately stealing heat from herself. Her teeth were gnashed, more in a scowl than a chatter. She rubbed her gloves against her arms, clutching the straps of her backpack in her fingers. It wouldn't be very long now.
The Hurst residence was one story, timber like all the others surrounding it. Even at such a young age Ami could imagine that they were all built at the same time; when the builders finished with one house, they would just pick up their tools and walk over to the next one. Maynard's house was different in that it was painted white rather than a sickeningly cheerful color. It made it easy to spot once she found his block.
It was also the one with Holiday decorations that looked like severe hand-me-downs. Maynard's father was an antique nut or something. Ami had no place to judge though. Frankly the definition of a 'normal father' seemed foreign to her.
She nearly caught her shoe against a large candy cane sticking straight out of the ground. The cold was getting to her, making her limbs a little stiff. She wouldn't become a popsicle, no way, but the thought seemed more and more likely. Finally she reached the doorstep, peering at the mahogany door, through the windows. The lights didn't look to be on inside. Was he even home?
She decided right then that if Maynard had ditched her, and she ended up freezing to death, she'd come back as a ghost and haunt him silly.
A moment passed before Ami reached and gently pressed the doorbell brief hesitation, opened the glass door and knocked.
"Maynaaaard, c'mon." She stamped her feet against the welcome mat.
When she was young it made no difference to her; the last thing she had on her mind was getting from place to place. Her parents always provided that for her.
Even so, the trip over to Maynard Hurst's house always felt surreal no matter how she got there.
Maynard lived only three or four miles from Ami's home. He lived on a residential cul-de-sac, with houses that were made for the atomic family but stumbled over their feet very recently. It was a perfect fit for Maynard. By contrast, Ami's neighborhood was very well-to-do, homes that looked polished obsessively by shoeshiners promised triple. Not even on opposite sides of the city and yet on opposite sides of the world.
Everything in between was strange, too, and the scenery to and from were never the same. Sometimes there would be an expanse of grasslands, sometimes not. Other times they'd to dip inside Bohemia, passing by coffee shops and bright-haired beatniks.
The oddest trip of all had to be when her parents did not drive her at all.
It was a cold November weekend, close to Thanksgiving. Ami was in middle school, proclaimed 'math wizard' by the teacher that always wore those really lame sweaters all year long. That was his cheeky way of saying that she had one of the highest grades in the entire class. She was very proud of this achievement, though never that eager to brag. Not that she really talked much.
Maynard Hurst was the complete opposite. He grasped English liked the back of his hand, and the poetry he showed her was way above middle school level work. They bonded over English, and up until then shared the same English classes. He sucked at math. Maynard was awful. He could barely remember the order of operations let alone any formulas. Ami sometimes saw him shrink in his seat when the teacher was looking for an answer to a question. It was actually kind of sad, though she never told him that.
So it came as no surprise when Maynard snuck up next to Ami during lunch and asked her, sheepishly, afraid of offending, if she could help him study for the test.
Of course, she said yes without thinking.
It wasn't her first time going over to Maynard's but it would be the first time she'd be going over to help someone study. It was also the first time she'd be over to his house when his parents wouldn't be home.
Oh. Also, his parents wouldn't be home.
Maynard told her when he first asked, abashedly telling her they wouldn't be able to get her a ride. Ami thought very little of it at the time. In hindsight, she probably should have worried. Especially a few years later when she started learning about herself and, well, all it goes without saying. But Maynard was a nice boy and he was a good friend. If he needed her help, Ami would certainly try to provide.
There was a problem though; Ami wouldn't be able to get a ride. Her father was busy, her mother was out of town, and she had no idea where her uncle was. Maynard's parents wouldn't be home, obviously, and it wasn't like she or any of her friends could drive yet.
Perhaps it had been impatience, the fear of how Maynard would react to her suddenly canceling or her sheer insistence in wanting to help him. Ami cannot recall the reason. Whatever it was, she figured that instead of waiting for a ride, it would be easier to walk to his house.
It was only 20-something degrees outside. And she had to walk several miles.
It made sense to her at the time.
She had enough sense to put on a light jacket, sweatpants that she had to roll up at the ankles and gloves that made her hands looked comically big. Just the bare minimum though. The cold wasn't about to turn her into an ice cube but it felt enough of an impression to make Ami realize her mistake, and she was kicking herself for half of the trip.
A trip that would have only taken a hour took Ami nearly twice that. She was going in circles for a good period, passing the exact same gas station and feeling scared each and every single time. That was until the gas station attendant came out and, looking a bit weirded out, pointed her in the right direction.
By the time she recognized the hard right that lead into Maynard's neighborhood, her arms were coiled tight around her front, desperately stealing heat from herself. Her teeth were gnashed, more in a scowl than a chatter. She rubbed her gloves against her arms, clutching the straps of her backpack in her fingers. It wouldn't be very long now.
The Hurst residence was one story, timber like all the others surrounding it. Even at such a young age Ami could imagine that they were all built at the same time; when the builders finished with one house, they would just pick up their tools and walk over to the next one. Maynard's house was different in that it was painted white rather than a sickeningly cheerful color. It made it easy to spot once she found his block.
It was also the one with Holiday decorations that looked like severe hand-me-downs. Maynard's father was an antique nut or something. Ami had no place to judge though. Frankly the definition of a 'normal father' seemed foreign to her.
She nearly caught her shoe against a large candy cane sticking straight out of the ground. The cold was getting to her, making her limbs a little stiff. She wouldn't become a popsicle, no way, but the thought seemed more and more likely. Finally she reached the doorstep, peering at the mahogany door, through the windows. The lights didn't look to be on inside. Was he even home?
She decided right then that if Maynard had ditched her, and she ended up freezing to death, she'd come back as a ghost and haunt him silly.
A moment passed before Ami reached and gently pressed the doorbell brief hesitation, opened the glass door and knocked.
"Maynaaaard, c'mon." She stamped her feet against the welcome mat.