Authors: Susan Oloier
“Mom.”
Both of them cried into each other’s collars as Doug and I silently observed. It was as though no bad feelings ever passed between them. They each seemed thrilled to see the other.
“Mom, this is Doug.”
Doug extended his hand. Before taking it, my mother studied him from head to toe. She realized the age difference, but kept her words in check. She finally looked at me, seeming to want the same sentiment she shared with Becca, but was unable to rouse anything within herself.
“It’s good to see you, Noelle.” She pushed the words out.
Inside, I felt like an outsider. Except this time it was in my own home. My mother indulged Becca and feigned friendliness with Doug. I was a background prop, a knickknack, a mere object that warranted little attention.
“Before we sit down, I have an announcement.” It was Becca. “Doug and I are getting married.” She screamed with excitement.
My mother’s eyes blossomed into poppies. It was not what she hoped for or expected. She slapped a Colorform smile on her face.
“Congratulations.” It was more of a question than a statement.
I needed a cigarette.
“Mother, I want you to be happy for me. I promise my life is getting back on track. I’m even going to school to get my GED.”
The three of them sat around the coffee table, hashing over the details of the wedding: the date, the colors, the dress. Blah, blah, blah. They no longer noticed me. I slipped outside where I belonged. It was a stellar seventeenth birthday. I walked to the Circle K and treated myself to a pack of cigarettes.
It rained in Prescott,
Superior
, and Sedona. Snow formed in the White Mountains,
Flagstaff
, and the higher elevations of
Tucson
. But none of it irrigated the Valley. Storms skirted around us. The sky dangled the temptation of rain clouds like jerky in front of a dog.
I avoided Becca for the remaining time she was home. My mother had the daughter she wanted so she didn’t need me. I spent Christmas with Aunt P. We opened presents in the morning, had dinner at Z Tejas in the evening. P bought me another car, a used
Toyota
. It held less appeal than the first one. I didn’t deserve it. But then I didn’t deserve many things.
January. School. My locker door had been replaced. A good sign. Audition posters littered the hallways. They advertised an end of the school-year play,
Barefoot in the Park
. I didn’t know how he did it, but Father Dodd convinced the high school to permit the play.
I anxiously awaited graduation. I was only five months away from leaving parochial school and never looking back. On the first day after Winter Break, Cassie and I celebrated our last semester at lunch with a bag of marijuana. We drove to her house and toked with Pete by the pool. I hadn’t seen him since Homecoming. I never told Cassie what happened between us. There was no reason to involve her.
“I’m going to grab some munchies.” Cassie strutted away, leaving me alone with Pete.
I tensed a bit, but pretended he wasn’t there, taking drags from the joint, watching the smoke curl into a tiny spiral staircase.
“You’re a real tease, you know?” Pete tossed his accusation at me. A smirk perched on his face. He wanted to pursue the subject further, but Cassie emerged with a bag of Doritos and three bottles of Samuel Adams.
“Party time.”
She laid the snacks on the table and immediately stripped down to a bikini and dove in the pool. With a glance, Pete bid me to join them. Instead, I opened the beer bottle and sunk more deeply into my lounge chair. Pete tore off his clothes and jumped in after Cassie. The sound of splashing water and laughter leapt into the air. I watched Cassie wrap her arms and legs around Pete. It was more than I cared to see.
Turning up at my Aunt P’s house on school nights became a ritual for Grace.
We sat on the patio, listening to the pool fountain percolate. I worked on my English paper. I read the book, made an outline, and was halfway through the first draft of the paper.
“What are you working on?”
“English paper.”
She stopped what she was doing, suddenly curious. “What’s it on?”
“The motif of confession in
Crime and Punishment
,” I answered in mid-sentence.
“Interesting.”
I knew Grace crept around an issue she was afraid to discuss. I still hadn’t told her specifics about Becca or my mom, so her curiosity got the best of her.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and ask me?”
Her eyes widened. She didn’t expect to be confronted.
“You want to know why I’m living here.”
Relief washed over her. Maybe she meant to ask me something else. Maybe something about
Chad
. Another topic where I skimped on details.
Because I never said anything to her before, she had no idea how drastically things changed for me.
“So Becca’s in
Chicago
, and my dad’s shacking up with another woman who’s young enough to be my sister.”
“Sorry,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do…”
I cut her off. “What about your family? How’s Jake?”
“He’s fine. They’re all fine.”
“Tell them I said hi.” I wanted Jake to be reminded of the night he had abandoned me. But honestly, I doubted he cared.
I decided to work behind the scenes again for
Barefoot in the Park
. Trina ruined the joy of acting for me, so I refused to audition. She, of course, tried out and won the part of Corey.
Chad
, who grew into an incredible actor, was cast as Paul. And unbelievably, Grace wound up with the role of Mother. Jamie wormed his way into the part of Mr. Velasco. Father Dodd sensed a quality in him that made Jamie perfect for the role. All I knew was that Mr. Velasco and Corey’s mother have a fling in the play, and Jamie would never dream of touching a girl.
I convinced myself that I participated because I wanted to remain immersed in Drama. But in the dark hours of the night, while I lay in bed with my insomnia, I confessed the real reason to the figures that emerged from the stucco and paint in the ceiling: it was to keep a close eye on
Chad
and Trina. I didn’t trust her.
I managed to complete my designated tasks quickly, so I could spy on them from the wings of the stage. I volunteered with lighting and scenery, things that required no interaction with Trina. She saw me watching from the side because it was in those moments that she touched or nuzzled closely to
Chad
, smirking at me from the corner of her eye. I hated her.
“Noelle, will you check in the girls’ dressing room for a step stool?” Dara asked. She graduated from makeup to scenery. She seemed more confident than last semester.
“Sure,” I reluctantly complied, rushing to the dressing rooms in search of the much-needed step stool.
I scrambled from end to end, finding nothing. Before I headed out the door, I caught sight of a purse openly displayed on Trina’s makeup table. It had to be hers. Part of me envisioned an array of possibilities. Another part told me to keep walking out the door. I looked around. No one was in sight. I closed the door behind me and made a beeline for the purse. Finding the wallet, I opened it to verify it truly belonged to her. It did. I rummaged through it like a rat in a garbage canister. I had to move fast in case Dara decided to search for the step stool herself.
A makeup bag with an assortment of products took up most of the bag. She also had a roll of breath mints, a set of keys, and a packet of birth control pills. Who was she having sex with that she needed those? She didn’t have a boyfriend. I instantly thought of
Chad
. Maybe she had them in case she could get him back in bed. I quickly fished through her wallet. Fifty dollars in cash, a credit card, pictures of her friends, her driver’s license. I considered taking the money, but opted for the birth control pills instead. I put everything back and left the dressing room. It wasn’t the step stool, but it was something.
Cassie suggested the idea, first placed the thought in my mind. I voiced my suspicions to her about Trina—that I believed she was after
Chad
.
“It’s only a matter of time before she strikes back,” Cassie warned.
I liked her idea. It was harmless, an act of revenge where no one but Trina suffered. And she wouldn’t be physically injured. Humiliation was what we had in mind, and just in time for prom and graduation. All Cassie’s plan required was access to the theater dressing rooms and some Nair hair remover, the same thing we studied not so long ago in Chemistry. One I had, the other I could easily get. Cassie was brilliant. Stupid school projects would pay off after all.
At a point where I felt that nearly everyone deserted me, Grace drifted closer. I tried to ignore the fact that she wasn’t there for me during my bleakest moments, but it was difficult.
I typed the last of the bibliography for my English paper and saved it on the computer. Grace reclined on the floor, calculating Trig problems while tapping her pen to the Jay Z CD she insisted on playing.
“Want something to drink?” I asked.
“Pepsi with ice … and lemon if you have it.”
I edged my way toward the hallway.
“I really like lemon.”
She acted weird, but then Grace always was peculiar. After an extensive search of the refrigerator, I managed to unearth a lemon. I diced it and threw a wedge in the glass, returning to the room.
Grace stood when I returned, appearing a little flustered.
“Thanks.” She took the glass, tasted a few sips, and set it down.
“I have to go. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“It’s only eight forty-five.”
“I told my mom I’d help Matt with his science project before bedtime. Oops.”
She gathered her books, CD, and bag and scurried out the door. Something was going on with her. I just wasn’t sure what it was.
February. With Lent on the horizon, my parents divorced. Instead of telling me face-to-face, my mother phoned to say she put the house up for sale. She planned to move into an apartment. I needed to take what I wanted of mine, or it would be given to Goodwill. There wasn’t an ounce of sadness in her voice. She was the same as she always was—indestructible.
My mother met me at the front door, escorting me to my room without a hug or a
hello
. I guess I never expected either.
As I foraged through my closet and drawers, finding nothing I cared to take, she stood in the doorway.
“Your father and I signed divorce papers yesterday. I can’t afford the house. He doesn’t want it.”
“Oh.” I avoided looking at her as I leafed through pages of my junior high school journals. Who needed the memories they held? I threw them in the garbage.
“Your father’s getting married this summer. I suppose he already told you.”
I swung around toward her in shock. “No.”
My mother remained passive. I wanted to look at her and share a moment. But I knew it was something we just didn’t do.
“How are things at your aunt’s?”
“Good.”
“I’ll only have a one-bedroom where I’m going so…”
I nodded. I was on my own.
“I’ll leave you alone with your things.”
So there it was. She was rid of me for good. A quick divorce from my father and a move to a one-bedroom apartment, and that was it for me. I felt grateful for my Aunt P. Otherwise, I’d be on the street. I took nothing except a few clothes and my Monet journal with the poem tucked inside. I wanted to chuck all of the memories of my house and family just like my mother disposed of me.
From all appearances, our relationship seemed repaired. On the surface, we looked like a happy couple. We walked the halls together, he met me at my locker after class, and he drove me to and from school every day. Yet I was moody.
Chad
attributed it to the stress in my family life. While it was a contributing factor, it wasn’t the main reason. Our relationship was a lie, and I was the cause of it. I felt undeserving of
Chad
’s sweetness, so I took it out on him.
On Valentine’s Day, he took me to dinner, then drove to the far end of
Squaw
Peak
Park
where we sat under a ramada.
Chad
even brought a bottle of sparkling cider and two wineglasses.
The sun spread tangerine and watermelon over the sky like jelly on toast. We watched solitary hikers drag to their vehicles after an arduous trudge uphill and back down.
It was a beautiful moment. But something lay under the surface like a splinter infecting the skin it has pricked. It was my dirty, little secret. My blister-red lie.
“I’m so glad things are better between us,”
Chad
announced. He leaned toward me. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Again, I said nothing. He read my silence to mean
yes
. The touch of his lips on mine made my insides ache.
“I love you.”
His words completely crushed me. I bowed my head in shame. I was no longer worthy of anything he offered, especially his love.
He removed a box from his pocket and set it in front of me. I must have stared at it too long because his voice stirred me from wherever I went. “Open it.”
I lifted the lid, and a sapphire ring twinkled from the folds of the box. I kept my eyes on the jewelry, so I didn’t have to see his hazelnut eyes.
“I hope I’m not out of line.”
A ring. Sapphire.
“It’s not an engagement ring or anything like that. I wanted to give it to you sooner, but…” He let his words trail off. I already filled in the blanks with images of my night with Jake. I shoved them away.
I stared at the brilliant blue gem. The old Noelle, the Noelle before everything went wrong deserved that ring. But the one sitting at the table next to Chad, the one with the wild hair and smoking habit, the one who betrayed the only person who loved her for who she was, was not worthy of that gift or the affection behind it.
“It’s beautiful, but I don’t deserve this.” I pushed it across the table to him.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t make me tell you.”
The tears flowed freely from my eyes. There was no controlling the flood of emotion that overcame me.
“Tell me what?” Concern lightly brushed his demeanor.
“I didn’t mean to do it.” I wiped away tears with the back of my hand. “I thought you and Trina were together again,” I rambled.
He looked at me, afraid of the words that rushed from my lips. But I kept going.
“It was a party, I had too much to drink, one thing led to another. I thought you and Trina were back together.”
“You already said that.”
“It was a mistake,” I choked, sniffling back my emotions.
“What are you talking about?” He asked even though I was sure he already knew.
“It was only one time. It never happened again.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know him,” I breathed through the cough of tears.
He absorbed the information I fed him, staring beyond me into the murky desert night. He tried to discern images in the shadows, make sense out of what I told him. Finally, he stood and looked directly at me. His silence was brutal. I wanted him to cut me with his words, tell me how horrible I had been. At least then I could have defended myself. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat and his response tore out everything within me.
“How could you?”
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “Please let me explain—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Noelle.” Tears pooled in his eyes.
“Please forgive me,” I said chasing after him.
Chad
turned around, completely wounded. Then he looked me straight in the eyes. “I can’t.” He took off toward his car, kicking up dust in his wake.
“Please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything.”
“I’ll call a cab,” he said over his shoulder as if speaking to something remote in the desert night. I sat under the ramada, sucking up tears while he waited inside his vehicle until the cab pulled into the park. Then he drove away without looking back.
I cried silently the whole way home. I wasn’t fit enough to survive what just happened to me because
Chad
drove away with my pound of flesh.
Sitting alone in the corner of my bedroom, I wore my sadness like an argyle sweater. I tortured myself, bought the Colbie Caillat CD, and listened to it over and over.
Tears cramped in my chest, curdled in my throat, but they wouldn’t come out. I ruined the only good thing I ever had. Like a glass of spilled water, I wished I would soak into the carpet. Life was not for me.
My door throbbed like a human pulse. It was Aunt P. She entered when I didn’t answer.
“Your dad’s on the phone.”
Old
Town
Scottsdale
. A sea of tourists twisted in and out of shops like a vortex in the middle of the ocean. It was February. The vacationers drew attention to themselves by wearing shorts, tank tops, and cameras. The locals, accustomed to the heat, dressed in pants and the occasional jacket.
All the stores peddled the same dream catchers, mummified scorpions under glass, and kokopellis.
I was already bored. The three of us strolled up and down the side streets: my dad, his girlfriend, and me. It was a challenge to even fake an interest. She tried too hard, attempting to find common ground between us. It shouldn’t have been too difficult for her since we were so close in age. Yet she failed miserably. She commented on how
cute
some of the paintings were and how
adorable
I would look in a tie-dyed Indian shirt. Was she blind? I knew little to nothing about mid-life crises, but this had to be one. Sheena. The name spoke for itself.
“Why don’t we get something to eat, Jack?”
She clung to his arm like a trained chimpanzee, sweeping her long blond hair back with her French-manicured nails. She smelled so strongly of perfume that I nearly saw the aura of it surround her like Pig Pen’s dust in the Peanuts comic strip.
“Good idea.” My dad looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction to things. I revealed nothing.
“So your dad tells me that you’re getting ready to graduate from high school.”
“Uh huh.”
“Do you know what you want to do when you get out?”
She put a great deal of effort into easing the tension between us. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t be nice to her.
“I heard there’s a lot of money in drugs.”
“Noelle,” my dad reprimanded.
Sheena’s eyes expanded like balloons; she turned to my dad for help.
“She’s kidding.” He reassured her.
He treated her the way he should have cared for Becca and me but never did. Envy swept over me. Why was she more deserving of his love and attention than we were?
“When are you going to tell her, Jack?” Sheena whispered to my dad as though I was invisible.
We turned a corner onto the
Civic
Center
Plaza
. My dad led us to the edge of the fountain. It was the same place where Cassie first introduced me to pot. Sheena immediately sat down. My dad inched beside her, grasping her hand in his. I stood not knowing what to expect.
“Noelle…” I hated the way he spoke my name. It was a portent. “Sheena’s going to have a baby.”
They both smiled as if that was good news. They awaited my reaction.
“Is it yours?” I asked my dad.
The two of them chuckled. My question was not the punch line to a joke. I was serious.
“Of course.”
I remembered the night Cassie and I smoked. We wandered around the
Civic
Center
, even ventured to the same fountain where I presently stood confronted with the realities of my life. Maybe if I poured my energy into my family instead of drugs and a social life, things would have been different. Sheena never would have existed in my world, and my parents would still be together. Somehow I allowed everything around me, including myself, to disintegrate. My life mirrored the very things that I once detested about Becca. I studied my reflection in the store window. The girl whose face was baptized with freckles and whose hair was as unbending as a straight edge suffered extinction. I didn’t recognize the person who replaced her. Maybe I didn’t really want to.
I broke my trance. “I want to go home.”
“I didn’t expect you to be happy about the news,” my dad diplomatically declared.
“What
did
you expect?” I stared blankly.
Sheena cowered from the ensuing confrontation.
“I don’t know.”
He wanted to say more, but was afraid to voice that he secretly wished for my blessing. He’d never get it.