Living with Jackie Chan (29 page)

Clover comes in and jumps on the bed and rubs against me. She purrs softly and paces back and forth against the side of my body. “It’s OK, I’ll come back and visit,” I tell her. But she keeps pacing.

I shut out the light and look up at Larry’s smiley-face stars.

“I really will,” I say again. I hope it’s true.

I wake up to the sound of a distant pounding.

It takes me a minute to figure out that it’s coming from the hallway. The door. Someone’s pounding on the door.

I sit up, pull my sweatpants on, and run out to the hall.

Stella comes out at the same time, hobbling without her crutches. She’s wearing just my T-shirt, which comes down almost to her knees.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I know you’re in there!” a voice yells from the other side of the door.

Shit. I mean, it’s
the Shit.

Stella leans against the wall. “Not now,” she says, exhausted.

I squint through the peephole to see if he’s alone or if he brought any friends to help him bust down the door.

I am not prepared for what I see.

I expected him to look angry.

I expected him to look like he wanted to beat the crap out of someone. Namely, me.

I did not expect him to be sobbing like a baby.

I step back from the door and sigh.

“What?” Stella asks.

I motion for her to see for herself. As she squints through the hole in the door, I swear I can see her anger melt away.

“What do you want to do?” I ask.

She hesitates, then says quietly, “I want him to go away.” But it doesn’t sound like she’s sure about that.

“Stellaaaaa,” Britt whines from the other side of the door. He sounds like Larry imitating Rocky. Only way more pitiful.

And sincere.

“Go away!” Stella yells.

“I just want to talk to you!” he cries. “Please!”

His voice is desperate.

Stella steps farther away from the door. “I don’t want to talk to him,” she says quietly.

I move farther away, too. “I don’t think he’s going to go away.”

Britt bangs on the door again. “Please,” he says, more pitifully. “I have to see you!”

“Maybe you should let him in,” I say. I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. By the look on Stella’s face, I can tell she can’t believe it, either.

“He’s
crying,
” I say.

“I know that!” she hisses, suddenly angry at
me
now.

“Do whatever you want, then,” I say. “But whatever you decide, you’re going to have to face him eventually.” God, I sound like Larry.

Britt raps on the door again. “Please,” he says. “I’m sorry! I never meant to hurt you! I love you!”

Stella steps back, away from the door. “I’m scared,” she says quietly.

“I’ll be right here.”

“No,” she whispers. “It’s not that. I’m — I’m scared I’ll change my mind.”

Oh.

He pounds on the door again. “Please,” he cries. “Please, Stella!”

“I don’t think he’s going to give up,” I tell her.

She looks down at her foot.

“You can do this,” I say.

She leans against the wall while Britt continues to pound on the door and cry for her. Finally, she nods. “OK. Let him in. But don’t leave us alone. Promise.”

“All right.” I slowly switch the lock and open the door.

Britt wipes his face with his T-shirt, then looks at the two of us. I know we are giving the worst impression possible, what with Stella wearing what is clearly a man’s T-shirt, and me not wearing one at all.

“You can come in,” Stella says quietly. “But only to talk.”

He nods.

I help Stella to the couch in the living room, and Britt sits on the chair across from us. I watch him look around the apartment like how we live is completely foreign to him. Larry’s apartment is probably the size of Britt’s living room.

For a while, no one says anything.

“Well?” Stella finally asks.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” He looks so wrecked, I can’t help feeling sorry for him.

Stella crosses her arms at her chest. “OK, well, you said it.”

“And to ask you — to ask you —” He looks at me like I’m a piece of dirt. Or worse. “Does he really have to be here?”

“Yes,” Stella says.

He makes a huffing sound.

“I want another chance,” he says.

“Why?” Stella asks.

“What do you mean, ‘Why’?”

“Why do you want another chance? So you can drive over my other foot?”

“It was an accident!” He leans forward in the chair, like he’s about to get up. It’s weird, but you can almost see the anger building up in him. I lean forward, too, just in case he tries . . . I don’t know. Anything. I realize he hasn’t even asked her if she’s OK, or in pain, or basically anything that matters.

“Then, why?” Stella asks again, calmly.

“Because I love you, Stell,” he says. “And I don’t understand what happened. We had everything planned. And then suddenly you’re telling me you want to go to a different school. A school you never even told me you applied to. And I got upset. Can you blame me? We’ve been talking about going to college together forever. I know I acted a little crazy. But you really took me by surprise, OK? I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s only because I love you and can’t bear the thought of not being with you. You’re my
life.
”

“But don’t you see that that’s the problem?” Stella asks.

“No! I don’t! What’s wrong with loving someone?”

“Nothing,” she says. “It’s the way you love. If you loved me, you’d want me to go to the school of my choice, not yours. You’d want me to follow my own dreams. You — you’d know what my dreams
are.
”

“Well, maybe if you told me, I could have applied there. If I knew it meant that much to you.”

“You never asked,” she says quietly.

“That’s because you acted like you were cool with the schools I chose for us! If I’d known how much this other place meant to you, I would have added it to our list!”

“You would really do that?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you have no interest in that school?”

“Yes!”

“And you don’t think there’s anything wrong with that?” she asks.

He stands up and starts pacing. “No! It shows how much I love you!”

“But that’s the problem!” she says. “I can’t do this! I can’t be with you every waking hour. I can’t report in when we’re not together. I can’t breathe! I need to be
me.
Not
Britt’s girlfriend.
And I want
you
to be . . . you. I want you to go to the school that’s right for you. Don’t you get how crazy it is to go somewhere just to be together?”

He shakes his head. “You never thought this before. Not until you started hanging around with him.” He gestures toward me in disgust. “You think this guy really cares about you? He’ll just use you and then dump you.”

I’m about to say something, but Stella holds up her hand to stop me. All I can think of when I hear the word
use
is Ellie. I feel like I deserve his insult, even though he doesn’t know about my past.

“We’re just friends,” Stella tells him. “He hasn’t used me. And he never will.”

No. I won’t.

“Then, what are you doing here dressed like that? Is that his shirt?”

“Josh was just letting me crash here tonight. That’s what friends do.”

He makes a face like,
Yeah, right.
I notice he doesn’t ask her why she needs to crash here in the first place.

“You could come to my house,” he says. “You don’t have to stay here.” He says
here
as if he means “in this pathetic excuse for a house.” “You know my parents won’t care. You can stay in the guest apartment.”

Guest
apartment? Figures.

“I don’t need to stay anywhere. I can go home anytime.”

“To what?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Stell. I know your mom’s never home anymore.”

Stella squirms. “So?”

“So you shouldn’t be alone. And you shouldn’t have to live like”— he looks around the apartment again —“this.”

He says it as if he truly can’t believe anyone could live here. Like he just doesn’t get it. Like it’s a choice. He reminds me of the Disney-type hero prince, all blond and muscular, who rescues the poor girl and makes her a princess. I can see it in his eyes. This is really what he believes. I’m sure of it.

“I love you,” he says. “I always have. I know I overreact when I don’t know where you are or who you’re with, but it’s because I
care.
And I’m the only one who does. You know it.”

Am I not sitting here?

“My mom cares,” Stella says. “She’s just caught up with Calvin right now.”

“Like that’s an excuse? If she cared about you, she would make the time. She’d take care of you. She’d know where you are!”

And now I get how this works. He tries to make her feel small. That without him, she has nothing. He tries to make her feel unloved by everyone but him. He tries to make her feel like he’s all she’s got. Maybe he even believes it.

“You’re not the only one who cares about her,” I say. “Stella has plenty of friends who care.”

“Stay out of this.”

“Whose apartment is this?”

He looks around. “Proud of this dump, are you?”

“It’s not a dump,” I say. “And you can leave anytime.”

“I’m not leaving without her.”

Stella doesn’t move. She slowly looks around the apartment, as if seeing it through his eyes. Then she looks at me. She seems so sad and unsure. Tempted.

“Please come home with me,” Britt says quietly, trying a different tack. “I promise things will be different this time. Just give me another chance. I’ll take care of you.”

I know he’s sincere, but his words are all wrong. He should know Stella can take care of herself. She’s not a helpless puppy. Maybe if he knew that, she’d be more tempted to give him a second chance, but the more he talks, the more she seems to move away from him.

“You need to go home now,” Stella tells him. She stands up. “I’m sorry.”

Britt stands up, too. “Stell —”

“You need to go,” she says. “Please.”

“You can’t stay here.” He clenches his jaw. As it dawns on him she’s not going to leave with him, his body gets more and more rigid.

“I’ll be fine. Josh is a friend, OK? That’s all he’s ever been.”

“Whatever. Fine.” Any sadness that was left in him has clearly turned to anger now, and my sympathy for him is disappearing by the minute. “Live like this,” he says. “Be with this loser. I couldn’t care less.”

“Obviously,” she says.

I can’t help smirking. That’s the Stella I lo — know.

“Fuck you,” he says to me.

He walks to the door and opens it, but stops before he leaves. Like he’s trying to think of one more thing he could say to make Stella change her mind and come with him.

She stays where she is, staring at him. He waits a minute more, then finally walks out the door, leaving it open behind him.

I shut the door and go back to Stella, who has flopped down on the couch.

“You OK?” I ask.

She nods. “Thanks.”

“Want me to help you back to bed?”

She nods again, then gets up and puts one arm around me so I can guide her back to Larry’s room. As soon as she gets in bed, she rolls over and faces the wall.

“You sure you’re all right?” I ask.

She nods again. I stand there, watching her, not knowing what to do.

“I just need to be alone,” she says.

So I leave her.

But I feel like she knows she’s not really alone. Not truly.

Because she has me.

I wake up at around noon the next day. Stella is still asleep, so I decide to start breakfast: Larry’s “famous scrambled eggs” and toast. I’m not sure what makes the eggs so famous, but Larry insists his way is the best. I’m sure it has to do with the massive amounts of cheese he melts into them. Stella hobbles into the kitchen just as I’m finishing up.

“Wow,” she says. “This is nice.”

“You should probably taste before you decide,” I say.

“I just mean that you went to all the trouble.”

I shrug.