Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 (2 page)

I climbed the stairs to the two
bedroom apartment I shared with Ami, Mother Theresa re-incarnate. Man, I hated
my roommate. It wasn’t that she was a mean person. Quite sickeningly the
opposite, in fact. She didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t do or ever try any
drugs, got all A’s in school, had a good body, and was pretty. Basically, a
mother’s wet dream. My mother’s wet dream. It sucked.

Halfway through the hall, I heard
the first screech of nails on chalkboard: “Where were you last night?”

Could the woman get a life? Any at
all. Hell, a game of bridge or bingo at a church function would be better than
hanging around, looking through books, and waiting to throw verbal stones when
I skulked in looking like a homeless show girl.

I slowly turned to face the
interrogation head-on, head held high. Hands clasped to hide the tremor, I
straightened my back and oozed purpose. Hopefully she didn’t smell the stale
beer from my clothes from the few mishaps in balance last night.

“I was with a friend.” I said in a
matter-of-fact tone, easily hiding the lie. “Why?”

“Oh. You went to a slumber party,
then?”

“Not since I was five, no. I stayed
over at a friend’s house.”

“Oh, I see.”

“His house was closer to the bar.”

“The bar?” Her eyes flared as she
glanced down to my clothes. She was judging. She must be! I looked like a hot
mess.

“His house?” she continued
excitedly. “Oh! Is this a new boy-friend?”

“No, actually. Just a friend. That
I know. From school. No big deal."

“Oh. That’s nice! How long have you
known him?”

“A while. It’s no big deal. Just a
friend. So…” I half-turned, indicating that my unraveling had nothing to do
with her questions.

“How exciting!” She threw me a
friendly smile, missing my subtle cues.

“Well, not really. It was kind of a
dull night. Well, I am going to head to the shower…”

“But, didn’t you shower at your
friend’s house? Did you forget your overnight bag?”

Honestly, only the intensely naive
were this inquisitive. Either that, or her mental pen was scribbling furiously
in anticipation of relaying all of this to her busy-body, snooty mother.

I attempted a nonchalant,
overconfident hair flick, but with so much residual hairspray tangling
un-brushed sex hair, my fingers got snared. I yanked my hand away, painfully
ripping a few strands of hair with it, and tried for an all-knowing smile to
hide my discomfort.

“I didn’t actually know we were
going to a bar that was so far away. You know cab drivers; they can be
dangerous at night. So, I just stayed with him at the last minute. Didn’t have
my toiletries so I thought I would just head back home to shower.” Lie.

“Oh my God! You should have called
me! I could have come and picked you up. I was home early from dinner with
Randolph
.
You definitely don’t want to be entrusting your life with cab drivers. A nice
looking young girl in this city? No way!”

I clutched at a change of subject.
“So you were out with
Randolph
? How
did that go?”

I took a step toward the bathroom,
conjuring up a face that could only be described as Nice, as if to say, “Look,
I’m friendly, I’m interested, and I would rather talk about you than my
intensely soul-crushing, sexual proclivities."

“Oh
Randolph
,
he is so funny.” She got a faraway look in her eyes. “He took me to the cutest
little bistro, I swear. He really has great taste in restaurants. And he’s sooo
romantic!”

I threw a friendly grin at her and
took another subtle step away. When she refocused on me, I amped up the fake
enthusiasm. “Oh great! Is he your boyfriend yet?” I attempted an eye twinkle.

I could only muster a slightly
neurotic, glazed hang-over eye. Damn.

Her brow furrowed slightly, her
eyes analyzing my face.

"I think we are close,"
she said with a noticeable hitch in her words. She was two seconds away from
asking if I was all right. I hated that question, because I never was, but
didn't want to admit it to Miss Perfect.

"I really do." she went
on. "And my mother approves of him wholly, which is a good sign. He is
from good stock, my mom says.”

“Oh, well, that is good! Ha ha,
yeah. Good stock. Excellent.” My face was starting to crack under the strain of
Nice. I was close the bathroom now. I already knew I would be slamming the door
in her face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“So, how long have you known this
friend of yours? The one you stayed with last night? Any potential?” She
stepped after me, smiling all the way. Her mental pen was getting all the
details, including my escape attempt.

“No. No way. Nah-uh, no. No. I’ve
known him a while, but just a friend he’ll stay I think. He isn’t really my
type. Too nice...I mean--” Shit. “You know, girly nice. Too...you know...”

Her eyebrows rose mid-smile,
waiting for me to finish. This Nice thing was ridiculous. It just wasn’t in me.

With one last effort, I attempted
the resurgence of my Nice smile. Result: a fracture in my face that looked like
a grimace.

“So, I better head off to the
shower. Great talking to you. Really." I slipped away to bubbly nods and
requests to join her after for some coffee.

Later that night I met up with the
girls for our weekly dinner. The idea was to meet at a new hotspot in
L.A.
every week, drink fancy drinks, dress in designer clothes and feel fabulous.
Being that we were in college, poor and had few material things with a name
anyone knew, we didn’t live up to that aspiration often. But in our heads we
did, and that was truly all that mattered. At least to us.

After I entered the dimly lit,
slightly dingy restaurant, I heard a perfectly tuned chorus of cackles. It
looked like the girls were here. Sure enough, in the back, sitting around a big
table, were the dearest four girlfriends a gal could have. All different, all
extraordinary, they were my chosen family. Nothing happened that I didn’t share
with them, and visa versa.

That’s why this dinner was about to
truly suck. I would be breaking the news of my eventual departure of this city
and my lifetime home. School would be ending soon, and my life needed a severe
change of direction. I couldn’t keep going like I was. It was dangerous, not to
mention disgusting. I had to grow up, and I had to do it soon.

“Hey, girl!” Flem shouted, waving
her hand. Her real name was Clementine, and most often went by the nickname
Clem. Which we then, in a moment of hilariousness that no one outside of our
group shared, or even understood, changed it to Flem.

I ignored the outstretched menu of
the server slash host and zig-zagged through the mostly empty tables.

“Hey, Jess,” Jane said, looking up.

“Jane, is that a text book in your
bag?” I asked with a pronounced eye roll.

“I have a test in a few weeks. I
keep going over some of the things I need to remember, then realize it isn’t in
my head where it should be.”

“So you brought your entire text
book? Isn’t that what your smart phone is good for?”

“I want to make sure I have exactly
what will be tested.”

“Dumbest smart person I know,"
I droned as I sat down. And it was true. Jane the brain: Quiet, reserved, and
sometimes naïve—at least for our group—she could write an essay without her
morning coffee and still get an A. Point her to the classroom and she smiled,
right along with her teachers. But ask her where she parked her car, or how to
get from point A to B on the bus, and you got a blank look. School smarts.

On the opposite side of the table
sat Lump, who would probably punch you in the head if you called her by her
real name, Betsy. Street smarts. The two ladies were proof the two existed.
Drop Lump in the middle of a citywide riot, and she’d get the whole group home
safe without raising her blood pressure. Give her homework, and she’d probably
not bother to turn up to school the next day. Our own little science
experiment, the two girls.

I sat down to a menu that was half
Chinese and half Japanese. A joint venture, huh? Yikes.

Flem greeted me with, “What’s up,
girrrrl?”

“Hello ladies. How’s life?” I
answered to the group.

I was met with smirks. Oh joy.
Judging by the anticipation on everyone’s faces, I could tell I only remembered
half of last night’s excursion.

“Where’s Claire?” I asked the
table.

“She’s probably afraid to show her
face after picking this place. She doesn’t even eat seafood and it’s half the
men,” Jane intoned.

“Here,” Lump handed the wine in my
direction, “have some wine.”

“No way! No alcohol. My liver needs
to re-calibrate!”

There was a chorus of laughing and
“Shut ups!” Flem immediately reached for the bottle and glass at the same time.

As I was about to protest for the
second time, the door swung open, emitting a loud, “Fuck!”

Claire stood in the doorway,
juggling cigarettes, a lighter, and her handbag while bending over a shoe.
After she shooed two waiters away and started laughing, she saw our table and
headed over.

“I picked this arse hole, I did?
Feck!” She threw her bag down at her feet.

“I don’t know what she just said,
but she sounds pissed.” Lump said with a smirk.

“She’s from
Ireland
,
they’re always pissed!” I laughed.

Jane handed Claire a menu without
saying a word.

“It is mostly seafood. Load of
bollix, this menu. Ah well.” Claire put the menu down and looked at all of us.
“Well. How are ye now?”

All eyes one me.

Then it started.

“So...” Claire began, putting down
her wine glass and looking at me. “You found a Prince Charming last night, did
ye?”

“Yeah, girl.” Flem leaned in toward
me as she asked, “What happened there? We leave you for one minute and you
sneak away with some guy. Who was it?”

I hesitated.

“Come on, Jess. We won’t judge,”
Jane said with an encouraging smile.

Laughing, Lump said, “I will so
judge you, and then point and laugh! But I will at least wait until you’re done
telling your story.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” I sighed.
“Alright. It wasn’t my great design at the time, but the man I woke up with was
very well built, tanned, and hung just right…”

“Wh-at?” Lump shouted. “Who was he?
How did I not see him?”

“Well, uh...” I scratched my nose
to stall while my insides shriveled. “It was probably because you were looking
straight ahead, and he walked right under your eye line.”

Jane said, “That is nothing new.
She’s a giraffe--most men pass under her nose!”

Lump shot Jane a dirty look.

“Okay,” I said, “he is a little
shorter than that, even.”

“Short isn’t the end-all, be-all,”
Flem uttered with a wave of her hand.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly gorgeous,
either.”

Claire’s smile widened, prodding me
on with a nod.

“He was a little less than fairly
ugly.”

“This isn’t sounding good...” Jane
muttered, looking down at her glass of wine. She was losing the fight of
positive thinking.

“Come clean!” Flem shouted.

I let them have it. I explained,
from beginning to end, the horror story of my morning. When I finished, I
looked around the table expectantly.

Jane was sharing my misery and
probably would’ve reached out and hugged me had she been closer. Lump looked
like she was reliving some similar past horror. Claire was looking past me and
watching what someone was doing behind me, apparently having lost focus. And
Flem... well, Flem was looking at me with the oddest expression I have ever
seen.

Half her mouth was slightly twisted
in a sort of smirk. Her eyebrows were furrowed, almost like she was witnessing
some tragedy, and her eyes held a quizzical look. She was leaning toward me,
but her head pulled back as though there was poop on the table in front of me.
She looked around at the others. Then back to me.

And guffawed.

She rolled with laughter. Roared
with it. Body heaving, she slammed her hands on the table. She laughed so loud
it echoed. Somewhere a glass broke, which startled Claire into looking around
wildly.

Flem threw out her finger and
pointed at me, doubled over. “He-was-so-ugly!”

“Yeah, I remember that lad."
Clare nodded, watching a waiter go by. “Fecking disaster!”

And there went Flem again.

“We’ve all had our memorable
moments, you guys!”

Bless Jane and her sweet temper.

“All I’m saying is, I am getting
too old for this.” I looked for the waiter and more wine before I went on. It
was time to break the news. It was time for that new life. It wasn’t just an
idle thought, either. I was hoping that a relocation might help sort me out. It
might help shake things up so I could make a change.

“I have some news.”

The table went quite. Eyes dropped
to the table, except for Lump, who was staring at me. That was never a good
sign.

“I’ve applied to jobs all across
the country,” I paused to take a sip, trying to cure my suddenly dry throat. “I
got one in
Texas
. A house, too.
I’m…ah…moving.”

“Yeah, Jane already told us,” Flem
said with eyebrows shelving her eyes like a cartoon character. “And you’re
headed to a dumb f**king place, you know that?”

“Is that because you were born and
raised in the inbred state?” Lump smirked, still staring at me despite the fact
that she was talking to Flem. Men quailed in that look. She had the mite and
know-how to do serious damage. Had since she was young. Her father was a
martial arts expert, her oldest brother a master. She got beat on until she
followed in her dad’s footsteps. She had slow to temper, but if she did ever
get riled out, get out of the way.