Pretend You Love Me (4 page)

“The ecstasy was bad. I admit that. But everybody does it. That or dust. But dust’ll mess you. You don’t want to do dust.
You have to do E, though. I didn’t think it was dangerous or anything. Not until…” Her voice changed. “Until…”

I twisted my head around to look at her.

She swallowed hard and met my eyes. “Until Tiffany died.”

“What?” I shot up straight and whirled on my butt. “Someone died?”

“God.” Xanadu’s head lolled back. She closed her eyes and released a thin, shallow breath.

“What happened?” I asked.

Through the globs of mascara, a tear glistened on her eyelashes. She hunched forward in a ball, clutching both knees to her
chest and rocking a little. “I didn’t know her that well,” she said. “Tiffany. She was a senior. It was her birthday party
at her house, her eighteenth birthday. Her parents weren’t even there. Okay, that doesn’t matter. Even if there are adults
around, someone always manages to sneak in a bag of E and sell it. Maybe it was a bad batch or something. I don’t know. Tiffany
took too many. Who knows? She just passed out in the bathroom and everyone was too scared to call 911. Someone should have
called, you know? They waited an hour. A whole fucking hour.” Xanadu exhaled a long breath. “By the time the paramedics arrived,
she was already in a coma.”

I was trying to absorb all this. Tiffany, ecstasy, coma.

“I can’t believe she died.” Resting her cheek on her kneecap, Xanadu picked up a chunk of horse chow and flung it off the
side. “None of us could. I mean, God. I’ve never known anyone who died. Have you?”

My stomach clenched.

“You have?” She lifted her head and looked at me, through me.

“A couple of people,” I said.

“It’s freaky, isn’t it? It makes you realize, you could be next. That it could happen anytime, anywhere. Without warning.”

No warning.

“Mom and Dad got all I-don’t-know-you-anymore, how-could-you-do-this-to-us?” Xanadu mocked in a sing-songy voice. “I don’t
know how they even found out I was at the party. Or who told them I was doing E. Mom went ballistic, of course. She was ready
to turn me over to the authorities and, like, have them put me in lockdown. Whatever.” Xanadu released her legs and stretched
them out in front of her. “She always overreacts. Is your mom like that?”

I let out a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I hunched forward.

“Come on. I just revealed my whole life to you.”

She was right. I never talked about my stuff. Who cared? “I’d be happy if my mom
could
react,” I muttered.

Xanadu’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Why’d I say that? I couldn’t do this. Not yet. “Forget it.” My eyes raked the ground and I twisted away from her.

Xanadu said, “I’m sorry. I talk too much.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw her gaze out across the fields into the deepening sky.

“No,” I said. “It’s just, I don’t want to go there. I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “That’s fine. You don’t have to. You don’t even know
me; why should you trust me? It’s strange, but I already trust you. It usually takes me a long time with new people. There’s
something about you, though. You’re so… open.”

Me? I wished I could be. I wanted to be. She trusted me. I felt honored.

We watched the sky together. After a minute Xanadu said, “They were right. Mom and Dad. I was on the road to ruin, in Dad’s
words. With the drugs, though, yeah. I mean, I didn’t do that much, but my grades were shitty and I was ditching a lot. I
was in trouble already. Then… Tiffany.” Xanadu blinked to me. “I’m sorry. I keep telling you all this.”

“It’s okay. It’s good.” Get it out, I thought. “So you came here,” I said.

“Yeah. Like I had a choice.” She let out a bitter-sounding laugh and nudged me again with her elbow. “I definitely needed
a change of scenery. I wasn’t exactly prepared for
this
.” She swept her arm out to the side, as if indicating the entire planet. Another planet, which, I suppose, Coalton had to
seem to her.

Leland trudged out of the barn, humped over, obviously in pain. “You two still here?” He arched his back and grabbed his spine.

“We finished the unloading,” I told him, in case he thought I was slacking off.

He eyed the storage shed, the neatly stacked bags of feed. “Nice job. Thanks.” He smiled at me, at Xanadu. His eyes warmed
to her. “Well, I’m all done in, girls.” He smacked his dusty hat against his leg. “Headin’ back to the house. You coming,
Xana?”

She ran a fingernail over a freckle on her leg. She had exactly fourteen freckles, that I could count. “I’ll get a ride back
with Mike, if that’s okay.”

Please let it be okay, I prayed.

“Fine by me,” Leland said. “Stop by the house on your way, Mike, so the missus can write Everett a check.”

“Will do.”

He puttered off in his boat-sized Buick. The hearse, Jamie called it. A cloud of dust billowed across the road in his wake.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Xanadu said. “I am so
not
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” She tilted her head at me and grinned. “Neither are you.”

She got that right. “Since I’m a townie, I wouldn’t qualify anyway.”

Her smile widened. She had perfect teeth, white and straight.

The sun was beginning to descend behind her, illuminating the sky in a color wash of gold and orange and peach. “So, okay,”
she said. “I’m stating the obvious here, but you’re gay, right? Is this like your total butch look?” She passed a hand down
my body.

All my muscles seized at once. I felt the blood drain from my face.

“God.” Xanadu covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh God. I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean…” She reached over to touch my leg,
but retracted her hand. “I have a big mouth. You can’t shut me up. Someone should wire my jaw shut or better yet, remove the
language chip from my brain. I didn’t say that, okay?”

I flexed my quads. I could move, at least. Run if I had to.

“I know a few gay people back home,” she kept on. “It’s no big deal. Not to me. But maybe here… I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I
won’t tell anyone.”

My eyes rose to fix on hers.

“So, um, listen.” She flipped her hair. “Change of subject. What does one do on a Friday night in Cans Ass, USA?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. She knew gay people. Guys or girls? How well did she know them? What did she think of me
really? I think she liked me. Forcing a light tone, I said, “Usually we hang out at the Dairy Delite and chug-a-lug Mr. Mistees.”

Xanadu frowned. Then she burst into laughter.

Jokes, I thought. She likes to laugh. “Or we drag Main, which takes about ten seconds. Sometimes we run the service road on
both sides of the tracks and pitch cow pies in each other’s windows.”

Xanadu laughed louder. I smiled, and wished it was a joke.

She slugged me on the arm. The sun grew to a huge red orb and set the world on fire. Xanadu gasped. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve
never seen anything like
that
before.”

I felt proud, as if the beauty of nature originated here. A Coalton creation. A reason for her to stay.

There were no words. Speaking would’ve spoiled it. We sat on the flatbed watching the sun sink slowly off the horizon and
vanish into space. I wanted so much to put my arm around her, have her lay her head on my shoulder.

“What’s the best time you’ve ever had in Coalton, Kansas?” Xanadu asked quietly.

“I’ll have to think on that,” I answered. I didn’t have to think at all. Sitting here on a flatbed truck sharing a sunset
with the most beautiful girl in the world? It doesn’t get any better than this.

I
snuck into Ma’s room a little after midnight. Her radio had clicked off an hour or so ago and she was propped against the
headboard, mouth agape, breathing labored. Both pillows were crushed under her neck to keep her head up. It was the only position
she could lie in anymore without suffocating herself.

I tiptoed past her fleshy mound and over to the double dresser. What I wanted was in the bottom drawer. I’d seen it there
on Tuesday when I’d come in to get more undershirts and boxers. Ma had fallen asleep in front of the TV that night, giving
me extra time to snoop.

I knelt in front of the dresser and lifted the brass handle. I pulled gently. Crap. The drawer was stuck. I gave it a tug.
Nothing. I wedged my palm onto the edge of the frame and tugged harder. The drawer popped open and all the contents shifted,
clinking and clanking around. I braced, holding my breath.

Why? It’s not like she’d yell at me. She didn’t speak to me. And it wasn’t like his stuff didn’t belong to me.

There was a lot of junk in this drawer. Five or six softballs rolling
around, Dad’s mitt. All my team pictures. His stat book on me. I wouldn’t touch that. Presents I’d made him for birthdays
and Father’s Days. I didn’t know he kept all this.

There it was—the lighter. The one with
DMS
engraved in the chrome. I snatched it up and flipped open the lid. I held it to my nose and inhaled. The smell of lighter
fluid; the scent of him. I closed my eyes. Dad.

“Baby, don’t play with Daddy’s lighter.” He’d taken it away from me when I was little. “Here, I’ll show you how it works.”
He popped the cap and his thumb flicked the spark wheel. Licks of flame. Orange, yellow, blue. I reached for it. “No, Mike.
Hot. Don’t touch. I don’t want it to hurt you.” He closed the lid. “Nothing’s ever going to hurt my baby. Not if I can help
it.”

My breath came out in short spurts. I thumbed the cap shut and clenched the lighter in a tight fist.

I felt eyes on me, watching.

I turned. Her eyelids fluttered. Was she awake? Aware? She gulped in an ugly snore and every pound of flesh on her shuddered.

A chill made me shudder.

How? How could he have ever loved her?

Jamie called me first thing Saturday morning. “Today’s the day, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Two years. Hard to believe. You going to River View?”

“I guess.”

“Want me to come?”

Did I? Yes. No. This was something I had to do alone. “Not necessary. But thanks.”

“Give Luigi my love. Or whatever.”

Whatever, I repeated to myself.

“See you at the game. Oh, did I mention I made up a new cheer for you?”

“Jamie,” I threatened, “don’t you dare embarrass me at the game.”

“Me? When have I ever embarrassed you?”

The phone buzzed in my ear. Damn Jamie. I downed the rest of my power shake and tossed a frozen bottle of water into my duffel.
The game was in Garden City, a doubleheader, so I wouldn’t get back before two or three this afternoon. I considered snitching
one of Mom’s frozen hoagies but didn’t want her to starve to death. Heaven forbid she’d miss a meal.

The back screen door rattled and a kid’s voice called in, “Pig slop for the big fat elephant.”

I crashed out to see who the mouth was. Too late. He’d cut across our yard and was halfway down the block. Probably one of
the Tanner boys. They were all brats. Two boxes of groceries teetered on the edge of the crumbling back porch. How long had
they been here? A little kid couldn’t have carried them.

Great. Now she was having it delivered. Why didn’t we just insert a feeding tube in her stomach? Tie on a feedbag? I don’t
know why I was being so hateful today. Two years. Get over it.

I dug through the boxes: Banquet frozen dinners and Toaster Strudels and pies and doughnuts and greasy chicken from the deli.
I’d be happy to do the shopping if she’d only ask.

Oh yeah. I forgot. I didn’t exist for her.

I hauled the boxes inside and started unloading, making as much racket as I could. Where was Darryl? In bed probably. He and
his stock jocks had had a big Friday night dragging Main. On cue, Darryl padded into the kitchen. His gut hung over the waistband
of his sloppy jeans. “Food,” he intoned. Snatching the Hostess box out of my hand, he ripped the tab open and popped a Donette
into his mouth.

“You could at least help put these away,” I said.

“What do you think I’m doing?” He popped another Donette and smirked. His gnarly tufts of hair resembled the Ledbetters’ Persian
cat that had to get shaved last summer. It had an abscess on its butt. Darryl was the abscess, his bald spot the butt. If
he looked this way at twenty-four, he was going to be completely bald by thirty. Same as Dad.

I edged around him with a stack of frozen pies and crammed them into the freezer. “I’m taking the truck today,” I informed
him. “I have a game in Garden City and I’m stopping by River View first.”

There was a long moment of silence, static in the air. If Darryl was going to fight about this—

“What time?” he asked.

“What time what?”

“What time are you leaving?”

“Why? You planning on coming?”

Darryl relieved me of the gallon jug of milk. “Maybe.”

“To River View?”

He cut me a death look. He’d never go there. “To your game.” He uncorked the plastic plug on the milk and glugged straight
from the bottle.