Never Enough (20 page)

I got home at nine-thirty and went straight to my room. The bathroom door
was ajar again, and oddly,
I
reached over to shut it this time. I’d never really had something to hide from my sister before. But this.

This.

My whole body trembled and shivered, and I threw on my Kings T-shirt over top my clothes. I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, thoughts and feelings piling on one another like a multicar accident, and because I couldn’t process anything of the evening, my thoughts kept returning to Shayleen.

I couldn’t get her and everything she’d told us after the big seventh-grade sex talk out of my brain. The things I questioned
were first about her:
Had she lied about her sexual experience?
Then I started to question myself.
Did I do it wrong? Is there something wrong with me?
Maybe it wasn’t supposed to hurt like that.

And Josh? I couldn’t even go there. I couldn’t let myself wonder if something so monumental for me had meant next to nothing to him.

I had to talk to someone—and it wasn’t going to be my parents. After a dozen deep breaths, I padded down the hall and knocked on Claire’s door. She told me to wait, and then after what felt like forever, she opened the door with an arm outstretched, inviting me in like she was a welcoming hostess on a cruise ship. I shuffled to her bed and sat down, and the bounce of the mattress caused an M&M’s wrapper to fly out from under it. Claire snatched the wrapper from the floor and threw it into the garbage can beside her desk, which was already nearly overflowing. She shoved it down the side and murmured something about Jasmine. I interrupted her blabbering.

“Does sex hurt?” My foot fluttered beneath me, but I looked at her intently when I said it. If there was any more lying or denial I wouldn’t miss it like I had with Shayleen. I just wished I’d had this conversation earlier, years ago.

“I don’t know, Loey, I haven’t done it yet,” she said, flipping through her desk calendar.

I tried not to let the shock register on my face. “What about Josh?”

“Oh, he wanted to, Loey. Boy, did he want to!” She laughed and I could tell it was true, and that she was over that whole relationship. “That’s why I broke up with him. I wasn’t ready, and he didn’t want to wait.”

She broke up with him? Since when?
I’d always assumed Josh had broken up with Claire, since she’d been so upset. I’d thought Josh could have had anything he wanted, with anyone. But no, I guess just with me.

Part of me still didn’t believe it, after all the time they’d spent up in her bedroom. Would anyone really pretend to be a virgin if they weren’t one, though? I’d always felt so behind, so naïve. I studied her. She really wasn’t lying.

I couldn’t process it. She seemed so sure, while I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. What I’d done.

“So you really haven’t done it?” I forced out.

“No, I want to wait until I’m married, Loey. Why?”

Married?
She sounded serious. Then it hit me. She was
proud
of her virtue. That would be just like Claire. She stared at me, waiting for an answer. “Uh . . .”
Why, exactly, would I be asking?
“Just wondering.” I sprung up and headed for the door to hide the tears I felt welling up.

“Loey, do you have a boyfriend?” she asked in a teasing tone. “Come on, Loey. Tell me.”

I shook my head. Claire tried to chase after me, but I shut her door on her. I got into my room and hooked the lock before dropping onto my bed and letting it all out.

So, what? Josh was just with me to get back at her? To prove something?

I hated him. I hated him and I hated Shayleen. I hated liars. And I even hated Claire, if nothing else, for making it all true.

*   *   *

All night I tossed and turned. In a groggy stupor, I heard Josh whispering, as though he was right beside me, “It’s okay, I’ve got a condom.” Over and over again, it ran in my head as if a CD was skipping. It didn’t occur to me until about the twenty-fifth time, that I could be pregnant. I mean, condoms weren’t a hundred percent, right?

Josh had told me he had a condom to reassure me, but I wondered if pregnancy would’ve even occurred to me if he hadn’t. Would I have stopped him if he hadn’t had one? I tried not to think about any diseases the condom may have saved me from, but I couldn’t help myself.
How many girls had Josh been with before me?
I started to cry again and buried my head under my pillow to deaden the sound.

An hour later, I headed down for breakfast, hoping no one would ask about my red eyes.

Mom raced around the kitchen—not out of the ordinary
for seven-thirty on a weekday. Claire sat hunched over a magazine at the kitchen table with a large glass of water. My anger came back in full force and I strode into the kitchen practically begging for a fight.

Sure, Claire had stopped puking, but she still had one fault. She was barely eating.

“Want some toast, Claire?” I asked.

“Uh . . . no thanks, Loey. You go ahead.”

Funny how she never questioned what I ate the way she did with Jasmine. Obviously she didn’t care how
I
looked.

I plunked a piece of bread into the toaster, then stomped to the other side of the kitchen.

“Apple?” I asked as I picked one up, tossed it in the air, and then held it out toward her. Mom was now chattering on her cell, and turned away from me as if annoyed by my volume.

Claire glanced up and shook her head. I put the apple down and picked up a banana.

“Banana?” I asked a little louder. She shook her head harder, like she had flying insects in her hair. I walked over and placed the banana on the table in front of her anyway. I went to the pantry and yanked the door open.

“Cereal?” I asked, walking over and dropping two boxes in front of Claire. Just then, my toast popped up. Claire kept
her eyes on her magazine and away from the spread I’d laid before her. I dropped my toast onto a plate, grabbed a knife and the butter, and went to sit down beside her.

Right beside her.

I hated her for being pretty and thin and sweet and honest and virtuous.

I spread a thick layer of butter across the toast within six inches of her face. She did everything she could to ignore me, but her face became pale, then gray, then an odd shade of green, and I wondered if she might puke right here in the kitchen. I scraped another full knife-load of butter out of the container and continued with another smear.

“You sure?” I held it directly under her nose.

She backed her chair away from the table, stared straight at me, and whispered, “I hate you.”

Good. Now we’re even.

Mom didn’t notice a thing when Claire stood up and left the room. I was certain the production I’d put on could not have been missed, but Mom faced the wall calendar, telling Mrs. Emerson about Claire’s next dance performance. To top it off, she droned on about how much Claire absolutely loved her ballet!

When Mom hung up the phone, she looked at my grease-dripping toast and said, “Loann, honey, why don’t you have
some fruit instead? You’re never going to keep a pretty little figure if you eat like that.”

I stared at her for a long moment, wondering what I could possibly say in reply. Finally I dropped the toast onto a plate and walked out the door without a word.

At first I thought maybe I’d just hang out and cry by the river. After all, Marcus
had ditched me for work yesterday. If he bothered to show today, I could just ditch him right back. But it wasn’t in my nature to be irresponsible, no matter how much I wanted to. At the very least, I needed to lay out a schedule of which days Marcus would work and which days I would work. Besides, I couldn’t help myself. A small part of me hoped Josh would come back into the café—that maybe I’d read that last look wrong, and the night before had actually meant something to him.

I marched into the café with such purpose I didn’t even notice Marcus alone on the other side of the counter until I’d crossed half the floor. Armando had apparently already left for the day.

I stopped in place. “Oh. I guess you’ve got it today, then.” I spun for the exit.

“Wait, Loey.” I didn’t feel like obeying him, but then he added, “Please wait,” in a quieter voice.

I turned. My venom from the breakfast table with Claire this morning still lingered in my veins. “What? It really doesn’t take two of us to run this place, Marcus. And as you mentioned yesterday—no, wait, yesterday was the day you didn’t bother to show up or call. As you mentioned the day
before
yesterday,” I went on, “we’re not really friends. You obviously have no ability to talk about your life with me, and I have no ability to keep my mouth shut, especially about something like this.” I stared at him for a few seconds, thinking he’d simply nod and we’d be done. But he stepped around the counter and walked toward me.

“Don’t you understand?” he said in the calmest voice. “This,” he motioned between himself and me, “this is my life. My whole life.” His eyes were so intense, so round and pleading, I couldn’t look away. “That other stuff,” he waved off to the side. “That’s not me. It’s not any part of who I am or who I want to be, and that’s why I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

He was good. His words started to soften my conviction.
Started.
“But even if you don’t want it to be, I need to know.” My soft voice surprised me. “Somebody needs to know.”

Marcus grabbed one of my hands. Then the other. They were
so warm in mine, but today I wasn’t thinking about romance. After last night with Josh, I never wanted to hope for romance again. But I knew Marcus didn’t have it in him to do what Josh had. He would never push me with something like that.

We stood there for a long time, and I could feel Marcus wanting me to look up at him, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t pretend there was nothing wrong when I knew a major part of him was hurting. I couldn’t
not
see that anymore.

“I need some time,” he said finally. I was about to protest when he added, “We’ll talk about everything, if that’s what you need. I promise. But . . . not here. Maybe at my apartment.” I tilted up to look at him.
Was he serious?
“I just need to figure out a good time.”

I had so many more questions, but the door opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Shayleen. Alone. I pulled my hands back from Marcus.

“Oh.” She stopped in place and looked at me, then stared down at my hands. “Oh, I thought . . .” she trailed off and just stood there staring like she’d never seen fingers before. I walked for the counter.

“Iced mocha?” I asked on my way, then wanted to slap myself. I needed to stop being so obvious about remembering
certain
people’s orders. To Shayleen it must be obvious how much I lacked having a life. Marcus followed me behind the counter and reached for a cup to make up her order.

“So . . . I heard something,” she said in this different, almost sweet voice as I passed her the change. For a second her tone reminded me of when I’d truly liked hanging out with her. “About you and Josh Garrison,” she added, looking over at Marcus.

All the oxygen in the room disappeared and I sucked in nothingness.

“Is it true?” she asked. The blender whir stopped behind me, and I could feel Marcus’s stare.

It had only been last night! How fast could word have gotten around? Did Josh put all the shameful details up on Facebook or something? I grabbed the side of my T-shirt and twisted it into a ball.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I forced a laugh, like this was funny, even though it so was not.

Shayleen studied my face. She shook her head and let out a little snicker as she took her cup from Marcus. “I didn’t think it could be true,” she said scornfully. “By the way, your mochas need more chocolate.”

It took everything I had not to yell after her when she went. But what would I yell? That I
had
been with Josh last night? That we’d had sex, oh, and by the way, it meant nothing to him? I didn’t want to shout that any more than I wanted to shout about my frizzy hair or my fat thighs.

I remembered Marcus behind me. I wanted to say something,
but I barely wanted to admit to
myself
that any of this was true. We were probably both relieved when the door opened again, this time to a steady stream of customers.

During the next lull, Marcus came up behind me while I finished making us each a latte. I felt him there, right behind me, and it made me nervous. The thought of being close to anyone right now just made my insides squirm. I didn’t want to think about Josh, but I couldn’t help it with Marcus’s chest practically touching my back.

“You okay?” he asked, when I stopped the machine.

I nodded, but kept my back to him. I sidestepped to get out of close range and then handed him his mug. “Yeah. Fine.” I led the way to our table, and after a minute he followed.