Notes from the Blender (16 page)

DEC DIDN’T STOP BEING A DICK TO ME A FTER THE
night of our party. Instead, he continued being a dick right on into the next day, to the point where he made me cry. In fact, it seemed like that was his main intention.

Stupid, huh?

But I guess he thought I was the one who was stupid. For letting him off the hook for my dad’s commitment ceremony. Like I should’ve known it would matter to him. Dec got all high and mighty, told me I was a crappy friend, that I didn’t even see him as male or human—or something, I don’t even know—and that I let myself be treated like shit by everyone because I have low self-esteem.

If there was anyone with low self-esteem in the room, I didn’t think it was me. Not that I bothered to say that. Because I was so floored.

Before the verbal spew he puked all over me, I had been under the impression that Dec and I had gotten to be friends. Maybe even really good friends.

Turns out he’s just another dick in disguise.

We’d been having, like, pajama parties in my room every night, talking about anything and everything, and instead of actually listening to me, all he was thinking about was sex, my boobs, and whatever other kind of perverted crap goes on in guys’ minds. All because I kissed him on the cheek once, and accidentally fell on top of him after we made the house all Halloween-y. Or at least I think that’s what he was trying to tell me, among other mean stuff, during that whole diatribe.

And so I guess it really wasn’t a hammer in his pocket after all.

Ick.

When I told Sam about it, his response was, “See? That’s why guys and girls can’t be friends.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because the girl thinks everything is all platonic. And the whole time, the guy is thinking,
I wonder if I can get into her pants yet.
And that’s why mixed-gender friendships never work.”

His pronouncement made me sadder than ever. Now not only couldn’t I be friends with Dec, but I couldn’t be friends with half of the Earth’s population. And how depressing is that?

So I’d spent the week avoiding my future stepbrother, ex-friend. Every time he saw me, he’d give me these puppy dog eyes like I should apologize or something. But I really didn’t think I needed to apologize for anything, especially seeing as the last time I did, look what it got me. Ripped a new a-hole.

In addition to his pathetic looks, Dec also seemed to be spending a lot of time being a big baby about some little scrape or something he had on his arm. It was covered up in gauze, and he kept touching it and wincing like he had gangrene and they’d be amputating soon. I guess I was supposed to ask if he was okay, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

The big bully was nothing but a wussy.

Make that a big, perverted wussy.

Thank God he wasn’t going to be my escort to the wedding. Now I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally giving him a boner or his looking down the front of my dress if I happened to lean over for something.

No surprise, we still weren’t speaking by the time Saturday rolled around. The day of my dad’s wedding had finally come, and I was just finishing up my hair—wash, condition, air-dry until just damp, blow-dry, add thermal product, spank it with a flat iron until it’s pin straight—when the doorbell rang. I checked myself in the mirror and deemed what I saw as good. Very, very good. My fuchsia Betsey Johnson dress was a great mix of funky and flirty, my makeup was dramatically different than my daytime look, which consisted of nothing but ChapStick, cover-up, and eyeliner, but subtle enough that I didn’t look like some weird, painted china doll, and my heels were sexy yet still walkable. All in all, I was pleased as hell.

So imagine my shock when I opened the door and saw Sam, not in a tux and holding a corsage but in a T-shirt, shorts, and high gym socks and holding a beer can, looking very much like Paulie Bleeker from
Juno
.

I just stood there, mouth hanging open, staring at fake Paulie Bleeker clutching an all-to-real Bud, and for one of the first times in my life, I was left completely speechless. I truly had no words for the travesty in front of my face.

Sam semi-leaned, semi-fell against the door frame. “Wow, Neilly. I’ve never scheen you look scho beautiful.”

My formerly paralyzed tongue suddenly went into action. Probably loosened up by all the alcohol Sam was breathing my way. “Wow, Scham. I’ve never scheen you scho drunk. Or dishgushting.”

He leaned into kiss (kissch?) me, but I backed away.

“Awww, come on now, Neilly. Don’t be mad at me.”

I could not believe the guy’s gall. Was I supposed to be happy he’d come to pick me up for our date to my dad’s wedding piss-drunk in a
Juno
costume?

“Sam, why don’t I drive you home so you can take a quick shower? I’ll pick you up a double shot at Starbucks while you’re getting ready, and we can forget this whole scene ever happened.”

Sam shook his head as if to clear it. It seemed to work, at least a little bit, because when he opened his mouth again, the slurring was under control.

“Yeah, see, here’s the thing, Neilly,” he said, lifting his index finger to the sky, like God himself was about to make the pronouncement. “My dad is really not cool with me going tonight. In fact, he forbids it. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he said it’s a crime against nature, and that I can kiss the season good-bye if I do.”

“It’s a crime against nature to escort me to my dad’s wedding?” I demanded. “And he won’t let you play any more football this year if you do? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!”

Sam put his hands on my shoulders. The fact that he leaned too much of his weight on me reminded me once again of his ultra-inebriated state. “Neils, I can’t
not
play.”

I was losing my patience. “I really don’t think your dad would go through with it, Sam. Be realistic.”

Sam shrugged. “You know I’d do just about anything for you, Neilly.…”

“Clearly not,” I said quietly. “I mean, you won’t even stand up to your dad for me.”

Sam stared down at his shoes, then back up at me. His eyes were all watery, but I couldn’t tell if he actually felt bad about doing such a horrible thing or if he was just glassy-eyed from all that drinking. “Neilly, please. I already stood up to him, and he wouldn’t budge. I love you. But I just can’t go.”

“You don’t love me,” I growled. “You never did. Love isn’t a part-time thing, where you get to be around for the easy stuff, the fun stuff, and then completely bail on the hard stuff. Love isn’t cheating and hoping you won’t get caught. Love isn’t showing up in some stupid freaking seventies sweat socks when you’re supposed to be in a tux. And love isn’t having to get shitfaced so you can tell me you don’t have the balls to take me to a same-sex wedding, because you and your dad are freaked out that you’ll somehow become gay by association. You don’t deserve to even talk to me, much less tell me you love me.”

That’s when I slammed the door in his face. Sam knocked on the window a few times to try to get my attention, but I pulled the curtains shut. Eventually, he shrugged and walked away, taking swigs off his Bud every few steps.

I knew I was really going to have to suck it up and put on a happy face, despite the fact that all I wanted to do was scream and cry and freak out. My dad and Roger were counting on me, and I was due at the church in fifteen minutes.

I texted my mom from where I stood. The prospect of walking up all those stairs to her and Thomas’s room was just too overwhelming at that moment.
Can I grab a ride with you guys?

Sure. Won’t even ask why
, she shot right back.

I plunked down on the couch, my chin in my hands, and tried just to breathe. In, out, in, out. It was a humongous effort, but eventually my anger started to fade a little bit.

And who knows how long later, I felt a plop on the couch next to me. I glanced over, expecting to see my mom, but it was Dec. In a tux. “I’m not afraid of your dad’s gayness rubbing off on me, so if you still need an escort, I’m all yours.”

I gave Dec a pathetic little smile that probably looked more like a wince. “You heard, huh?”

He nodded. “Every last word.”

“That’s just icing on the humiliation cake,” I said, closing my eyes like maybe that might make me invisible and, therefore, not publicly mortified.

“The only person who should feel humiliated is Sam,” he told me. “Well, and his dad, too. But you? You should be proud of yourself.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I am. Proud of you, that is,” he said. “And I take back everything I said last week. You really stood up for yourself with Sam. And I loved your whole ‘love isn’t’ spiel. It was, like, straight out of a romantic comedy.”

“Except those usually have happy endings,” I pointed out.

“So maybe this will, too.”

“Hey, Dec? I’m really sorry.”

“Me, too. About everything. I was a complete asshole.”

“Me, too,” I said, grinning. “Friends?”

“Friends,” he said, grinning right back at me.

SO LIFE IS PRETTY WEIRD.

I yelled at Neilly for being spineless, and then I was the one too chickenshit to apologize first.

“Listen,” I said, “I just…If I…I don’t want you to worry all the time about my perviness or anything.”

She laughed. “I’m not worried about it. I’m just aware of it. I think it’s probably better that way, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess so. So, um, I’ve got a lot to catch you up on. I just…I’ve…I don’t want this to sound creepy or anything. But I’ve just missed you. I know I went off on you, but you are a good friend. Actually, you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had. And I want you to still be my fri—no, I want you to be my sister.”

She smiled. “Yeah. We can do that. But if we’re going to be real siblings, we have to be able to hug once in a while without you getting all …”

“Erect?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“I think I can handle that. I’ve got a couple of…Well, I have to start at the beginning.”

Just then the car pulled up, and Dad honked the horn. “Okay, well, we have to go,” Neilly said. “Come on. You can tell me in the car.”

Into the backseat we went, and Dad was all fretful. “Everything okay? I mean, are you guys all right? I thought—Dec, you were supposed to…And Neilly, what about—”

Carmen put a hand on his arm. “They’re here. They’re fine. We’re fine. Now let’s go watch my ex-husband marry a dude.”

God, Carmen is so cool.

“So,” Neilly said. “You were going to tell me the whole story.”

I looked nervously at the front seat. “Uh. Well. Maybe you should, um, ah, maybe when we get there”—I kind of nodded my head at Dad—“I can talk more freely, and—”

“Dec, just spill it,” Carmen said. “He’s got to find out some time.”

“Find out what? What are you guys talking about? Is this…Oh God, what is it. Dec, did you get arrested again and not tell me?”

I laughed. “Keep that image in your mind, Dad, so when you hear the real story, it won’t freak you out so much.”

“Freak me out? What? What’s going to freak me out?”

“Dec, you’re making it worse. Tell the story,” Carmen said, smiling.

“Okay. So last Sunday, after having been a total dick, I was crying in the kitchen, and Carmen here talked to me, and Dad, you got a bargain here, ’cause I got better therapy from her than I have gotten from Dr. Gordon, but anyway…I told her how I was tired of being mad all the time.”

“Yeah, we’re all tired of your being mad all the time,” Dad said, smiling. Score one for the old man.

“Anyway, Carmen had this great idea, so she used her graphic design mojo to help me make this mock-up of what I wanted, and then she signed the form as my parent, even though, you know, legally—”

“
What
form?” Dad asked.

“Honey, watch the road. Let Dec tell the story,” Carmen said. She was enjoying this almost as much as I was.

“I really wanted to sign my name as
Stig Costello,
which I’ve decided to adopt as an alias should the need ever arise, but Carmen said I should just do it in a completely aboveboard way.”

“Do
what?
” Dad and Neilly both screamed.

“Jinx,” I said. “Dad, Neilly, you owe me a vegan smoothie. I prefer mango. Anyway…Dad, watch the road, for God’s sake, will you? I lost one parent in a car wreck, let’s not make it two or three.”

“Sweetie,” Carmen said, patting Dad’s arm, “just pull over for the end of the story.”

“Did you just make a joke about your mom’s death?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said.

“Wow. So now you’re admitting it happened, if only in a sort of twisted way. Good deal.” Damn it. Score another one for the old man.

“So, Stig,” Neilly said. “What form did you sign?”

“So glad you asked, my sister. The form that one signs when one goes to get a tattoo.”

“A
what?
” Dad and Neilly both screamed again.

“My new friend Anastasi—aka veganchick17, who, by the way, I’m meeting for coffee before the SOI show at the VFW next week—is, as you recall from the SuicideGirls comparison you made, Dad, rather heavily inked, in addition to bespectacled and delicious, so I inquired of her where one might go for such a thing. She sent me to a very nice place—all vegan, by the way. Did you know some tattoo inks have animal products in them? How gross is that?”

“Let’s see it,” Neilly said. “That’s why you’ve been babying your arm all week, right? Let’s see it!”

I looked forward at Dad. He kept looking back at me and sideways at Carmen. “You knew about this?” he asked Carmen. “He’s sixteen! Dec, when you get to be my age—”

“I’m still gonna be stoked as hell to have this on my arm,” I said, removing the tuxedo jacket and rolling up my sleeve.

“Oh my God,” Dad and Neilly both said, but I’m not sure if that one counted as a jinx, since Neilly’s was, like, “Oh my God, how cool is that,” and Dad’s was more in the “Oh my God, my kid has a big ass tattoo on his arm vein.”

I looked down at my tattoo. No skulls, no demons, nothing anybody would remotely expect from me. Instead, a single lily, and above it,
PATIENCE
. Now I’ll always be connected to Mom because her name is on my arm. And yeah, if it reminds me to take a deep breath before I get mad, well, I guess that’s okay, too.

“You are the coolest person I know,” Neilly said.

“You act like you don’t know your own mom,” I said.

“Apparently, I don’t!” Neilly said, laughing. “Knocked up, hanging out at tattoo parlors…Mom, do you want me to drop you guys at the mall so you can hang out by the fountain and go shopping at Hot Topic?”

“Not tonight, sweetie. I have to watch your father marry a dude, remember?”

“Right.”

“Dad?” I said. Dad still had this stunned look on his face. At least, I think it was stunned. I realized it might be something else when I saw the tears start leaking out of his eyes.

“It’s really beautiful,” he choked out in this semi-crying voice.

“Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Carmen said, stroking Dad’s arm.

He takes a minute to collect himself. “Don’t be,” he says. “I just…I just got overwhelmed with how lucky I feel. That’s all.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which I was trying to think about how to break when Dad—Dad! What’s the world coming to?—suddenly collected himself and said in a chipper voice, “Now, are you ready to go watch your ex marry a dude?”

“Totally,” Carmen said, and the two of them gazed at each other so lovey-dovey that I thought I might puke.

“Hey, Dad, try to keep it in your pants till we get home, willya?”

Neilly hit me really hard on the tattoo—which was still kind of tender—when I said this, and I was yowling in pain, and Dad said, “Thank you, Neilly. All right, family. Let’s go to a wedding.”