Page 95 of The Apple Tree

“I like the world through her eyes. I like her young, wild heart, and I think it would be tragic if she ever conformed to anything but staring at the stars, picking apples, and …” I trailed off, slowly shaking my head.

Making love in wildflower fields.

“She doesn’t take herself too seriously. She’s perfectly content cleaning rooms at a motel like it never occurred to her that everyone else her age is falling in line to get an education so they can live the American dream—whatever that is. Sometimes, I think she’s not the best role model for Josh because her standards are so low, but other times, I think the world might be a better place if more people like Eve were content withbeing themselves. Let living be the dream and work be an afterthought.”

I quoted the young woman who refused to think math teachers were admirable because she wasn’t thinking clearly about what the word meant. That made me smile because Eve was brave andadmirable; she just didn’t see that in herself yet.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

I laughed. “Not enough.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid. Don’t think with your dick; that’s my MO, and don’t fool yourself into thinking there’s even a tiny chance that her dad will give the two of you his blessing. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” I sighed as something moved to my left.

Eve sauntered toward the stairs in baggy gray sweats, a pink hoodie, and a bottle of booze in her hand.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“Alright. Later, man,” Adam said.

I stood, eyeing Eve as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking a drink of clear liquid from a glass bottle. I set the dog on his feet to go to her before I quietly opened the back door, set the phone on the counter, and returned to the deck.

“It’s past your curfew,” I said.

“I know. That’s why I had to sneak out.” She wasn’t slurring her words, so she was only one or two sheets to the wind.

“Where did you get this?” I sat on the steps and leaned forward, taking her bottle of tequila as the dog jumped to sniff it.

“In the old milk box by the garage.” She grinned, picking up Clifford. “In plain sight. It’s where my mom keeps a planter, but no one ever looks inside.”

“Is this leftover from Drew’s dad’s place?”

Her lips pursed into duck lips. “No. I have a new supplier.”

“Who?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Can’t tell you, Mr. Collins. You can’t be trusted.”

I narrowed my eyes and tried not to laugh. “Ican’t be trusted?”

“You’re a mandatory reporter.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure that applies. And you’re not my student or a minor.”

She let the squirmy dog down and reached for the bottle as I held it just out of reach.

“Can I ask why?” I stared at the bottle, wondering how often she drank.

“Why what?”

“Why do you drink this shit?” I took a swig. It was cheap tequila. Horse piss.

“Because it’s free.”

“So are STDs. I mean, why do you drink cheap alcohol all by yourself at eleven at night?”

She shrugged. “I like the buzz.”

---