She Loves You, She Loves You Not... (12 page)

I said to him, “Go to hell.”

The other guy yanked on Sarah’s hat and pulled it off. She cried out because he ripped some hair with it. I lashed out at the guy but missed. The other guy wedged between us, pushing Sarah to the wall and holding her arms. He said, “Do you even know what you’re missing, babe?” and smashed his mouth on hers.

With superhuman strength I didn’t know I had, I wrenched him around and kicked him in the balls. The other guy clenched my arm, but I kicked him too. Next thing I knew, Sarah and I were flying out the exit, running for our lives.

Was that the day I decided to get my driver’s license? A car would’ve been a godsend. Those jerks didn’t catch up, but they could have.

Sarah broke down. She started crying uncontrollably.

“Baby, it’s okay.” I held her. “They’re just assholes.”

She pushed me away. “I can’t do this!” she yelled in my face. “It’s too hard!” She turned and fled.

I caught up with her at Gracie Field, and she whirled on me. “I hate this! I hate the way people look at me and the way they treat me and what they think of me. I hate lying to my parents and sneaking around.”

“I thought you told your parents,” I said.

“I didn’t tell them everything. They know you kissed me.”

“You kissed me first.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She did. But what difference did that make? I wanted it.

“It doesn’t matter what people think,” I said.

“Yes it does!” she shrilled.

I tried to calm her down. She was crazy. “I hate it! I hate living like this!” She kept screaming, stomping her feet on the dirt like a little kid having a temper tantrum.

I shouldn’t have laughed.

Sarah stopped immediately. Her eyes hardened and she said, “I can’t do this with you anymore.” She stormed off.

“Sarah,” I called after her. She wouldn’t slow down. “What are you saying?”

She stopped and twisted around. “I can’t, Alyssa. I’m sorry.”

My stomach was in my throat. Did she mean we were over?

A car turned the corner and honked at us. Sarah’s father. She ran over to him. Out of cars and vans, hordes of kids in baseball uniforms streamed onto the field, and Sarah disappeared into the crowd.

That night was the worst night of my life. I called and called and called her cell. Sarah’s voice mail picked up every time. I lost count of how many times I redialed. The last time her mother answered.

“Is this Alyssa?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is Sarah—”

“Stop calling her. She’s not allowed to see you or talk to you. Do you know how old she is? Barely fifteen. You can destroy your own life, but don’t take my daughter down with you.”

I felt humiliated. Ashamed. Why? I’d never made Sarah do anything she didn’t want to do. She’d decided. Fifteen was old enough to decide.

Twenty-one is definitely old enough. Finn should be living out and proud. Last year M’Chelle dated this college girl, and that was cool. She didn’t have to play out her whole love life at Homophobic High.

Finn’s face materializes in my head. She isn’t beautiful in a classic way, like Sarah. Finn has that gorgeous skin and hair and those eyes. I could lose myself in those bottomless eyes.

Forget Sarah. And Finn too. Finn doesn’t need her first girlfriend to be some reject on the rebound looking to avenge her ex. And I don’t need or want a girlfriend.

I see the sign to Blue Spruce Road and turn left. After a few feet, the pavement ends. Over a blind hill the topography flattens out, and I spy the building ahead. The neon sign:
WET WILLY’S
. Underneath, flashing naked women and curlicue lights that read:
GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS
.

God, Carly.

A hundred vehicles are parked in a dirt lot. Cars and trucks and motorcycles. Music blasts out the open door.

I should bail. Do I really want to see this?

Yes.

I park in the hinterlands and hike up to the entrance. The bouncer, who’s ear-gauged and tattooed head to toe, says, “Can I see your ID?”

“Sure.” I finger my billfold in my bag, fumble around, pretend I can’t find it. He keeps waiting. Grabbing my billfold, I flip it open and flash my license at him. I go to flip it closed, but he snatches it out of my hand. “Sorry, sweetcakes,” he says, handing it back. “Kinder Care is that way.” He thumbs toward the road.

“I promise I won’t drink,” I tell him. “I just want a Coke.”

“There’s a 7-Eleven in Frisco.”

How bad do I want in? Bad. I sling my bag over my shoulder and stick out my boobs. I shimmy up close to the bouncer and say in his ear, “Please?” My fingers trickle down his arm. I sort of vomit in my mouth.

A group of rowdies surge out the door, squeezing us together in the tight opening. Then a van pulls up, and an entire construction crew piles out.

The bouncer calls, “Hold up, boys,” and I slip inside.

Behind me, I hear, “Hey, where’s that kid?” I skitter behind a booth, between tables, keeping my head down.

The bar is straight ahead. I glance back once and don’t see the bouncer, because the place is packed. He’ll never find me. I look up and freeze.

Finn’s behind the bar. Her eyes rise, and I duck down, scuttling sideways toward the wall, weaving through a clot of hairy bikers and slinking along the perimeter.

I should’ve made the connection. Finn knows Carly. Finn tends bar. Finn knows more about Carly than she’s letting on.

There’s a dark corner by the ATM machine, and I huddle there. I can watch Finn without her seeing me.

She’s dressed in black. Black jeans, black tee on her lean, narrow frame. She’d be completely androgynous without the braid.

A pair of guys at the bar begin to talk her up. She pours whiskey into a glass of ice with one hand while drawing beer from the tap with the other. One guy makes a joke, and Finn smiles.

Not with her eyes. She just looks tired.

She glances my way. I dodge her gaze, but it doesn’t matter, because the lights go out. A blaze of red light strobes in front of me, and a screech, like a flock of seagulls, makes my ears squinch. Guys start hooting and whistling, and I can’t see what’s happening.

I peer around a beefy dude. There’s a stage, and on the right, lit with a red spotlight, is a pole. Dry-ice fog rolls across the floor, and Carly appears onstage. She’s changed her clothes—into practically nothing. I have to cover my ears, the whistling is so shrill. I can’t see clearly through the mass of smarmy bodies and smoke and haze. A bass beat pounds, and then this oily music comes on.

I sneak a peek at Finn. She’s stopped working and stands motionless, eyes glued to the stage.

People begin to sit, opening a view of the stage to me, where Carly squats, her knees apart, behind the pole. She reaches up her long fingers and grabs the pole. Then she slides herself to an erect position and raises her head.

Through the mist and haze, Carly’s eyes travel the room,
stop, and fuse to my face. No words are exchanged, because none have to be.

It’s not all Carly’s show. A blue light illuminates the left side of the stage, where there’s another pole, and Geena appears. Guys whoop and catcall. She and Carly must’ve rehearsed this number, because they slide up and down their poles in unison. So raunchy. At one point they hang off their poles by one hand, lean over, and kiss each other.

That’s enough for me. I’m gone before I see how far they’ll go.

I bury my head in my pillow, amp up my music, and cover the earbuds with both hands. I can’t shake the image of Carly with her legs spread, clinging to that pole. How could she—how could anyone—sink so low? I had an idea what stripping or pole dancing was, but it’s worse than I imagined. My own mother. I have absolutely no respect for her.

A hand touches my arm, and I startle. Her cloying perfume bites my nose, and I roll over in bed. Carly stands there in broad daylight, her arms crossed. “Paulie’s left two messages on the machine. You never called him back, did you?”

Shit. I’d spaced out. I wait for her to say more—about last night.

She leaves, and I blow her smell out of my nose.

What time is it? If it’s light, I’m late! Then remember I don’t work today.

I sit up and see Carly didn’t go far—to the doorway. Her hair is down, and she sweeps her too-long bangs across one eyebrow and over her ear. “Are you going to call him?”

She has on tight capris and a plunging V-neck top. She’s had a boob job. Those are too high and round to be real.

“Did you hear me? Call your brother.”

“I will.”
Get out of my room
, I think. I slide out from under the sheets and skitter into the bathroom. When I come out, she’s made the bed, and she’s perched on the edge of the mattress, waiting for me.

“I only have two clients today, so I should be done around one, one thirty. I thought maybe we could drive to Dillon and go shopping for shoes. My friend Mitchell, who’s a state trooper, has a boat, and he said anytime I want to go waterskiing to let him know. It might be fun.” She examines her fake nails. “Afterward we can go out for a nice dinner and talk. Just the two of us. We need to talk, don’t you think?” Her voice is scary serious.

“I’m… busy,” I say, backing into the bathroom and easing the door shut.

She snaps, “Get unbusy.”

I hear the bed creak and open the door a crack to peek out. She’s still in the room. “From now on, you drink only when I’m here.”

I shut the door and lock it. The image of last night won’t dissolve, and now another memory surfaces. The way Finn watched Carly, kept her eyes on her.

Like hell Finn doesn’t know she’s gay. She’s cruising for Carly. No wonder she’s so evasive whenever Carly’s name comes up.

I hear the garage door whir underneath me and head downstairs. Carly’s stuck a Post-it to the fridge.

The cordless phone rests on the table. I really do want to talk to Paulie, except I’m afraid I’ll break down. I punch in the number slowly, deliberately, and hear a ring. Tanith answers.

“Hi,” I say. “Is Paulie there?”

“Alyssa, hello. How are you?”

I almost snipe,
Peachy keen, Tanith. Strawberry pop with sprinkles on top.
Instead I go, “Okay.”

She says, “You sound upset.”

Do I, Tanith? “Why would I be upset?”

She doesn’t answer me.

“Is Paulie there?” I ask again. “He called and left a few messages, but I was working.”

“He’s not here. He went with your dad to pick up the RV. So, you have a job?”

A dagger pierces my heart. The RV to drive to Corpus Christi to visit my grandparents. The last two or three summers I whined about going. The drive is long, and it’s hot in the summer, and I wanted to be home with my friends.

“What kind of job?” Tanith asks.

“Waitressing.”

“That’s good,” she says. “It’s hard work, though, isn’t it?”

I don’t feel chatty. “I should go.”

“Did Paulie tell you he got his purple belt?”

“He did?”

“Oh, shoot. I shouldn’t have let the cat out of the bag. He’ll want to tell you himself. Act like you don’t know, okay?”

I can’t even speak.

“He is
so
excited. I wish you could’ve been here….” Her voice trails off.

My eyes close. We have this family tradition that every time Paulie advances to the next level in tae kwon do, Tanith bakes or buys a cake. We decorate his room with banners and balloons. Paulie and I spar in the living room until Dad tells us to quit or take it outside. Then we watch one of Paulie’s Jackie Chan movies. I’m so sick of Jackie Chan.

“Are you going to be there for a while?” Tanith asks. “I know Paulie wants to talk to you before we go.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. I mean, no.” I don’t want to be here when Carly gets back. “Tell Paulie major props. Tell him…” I can’t go on.

Tanith’s voice softens. “I will.”

I hang up fast.

March

For your seventeenth birthday Dad got you a car. It was a used Civic, but you laid the love on him. He said, “Look out, buildings.”

You wanted to come out to him so badly that day. You knew he loved you. He proved it in so many ways. But when you opened your mouth, the only words that formed were, “Love you, Dad.”

He gave you a hug and said, “You’re growing up too fast.”

Sarah gave you the complete
L Word
DVD set. That had to cost. You loved it but didn’t know when or where you’d be able to watch it on TV. Not at home, that was for sure.

Sarah told you her plan was working out beautifully. If only she’d thought of it sooner. The sarcasm dripped.

She had a “convenient” boyfriend now. Guess who?

Dad asked you one day why you didn’t bring Ben around anymore, and you said, “We broke up.” Dad said, “Then who are you on the phone with at all hours? Who are you spending all your time with?” Meaning every night and weekend, staying out till one minute before curfew.

You said, “Someone else.”

Dad leveled you with a look. “Bring him home.”

A few days later at dinner, he brought it up again, sort of. “For spring break I was thinking we might go to Maine to visit Mom and Dad.” He meant Tanith’s mother and father. “We’ve talked it over and agreed you and Paulie can each ask a friend to come.”

How many times had you begged Dad and Tanith to let you bring a friend on these trips?

Sarah. God, could you ask her?

Tanith met your eyes. She telepathed the answer.

You said to Dad, “Um, I was thinking about staying home for spring break. I got really far behind in my schoolwork when I was sick, so I think I should stay here and catch up.”

He said, “Stay home alone?”

“I’m seventeen,” you informed him.

He didn’t reply.

“I’m not planning any wild orgies.”

Paulie piped up, “If Alyssa stays, I want to stay too.”

Tanith scraped back her chair. “No,” she said.

“I have to, Tanith. If I don’t catch up, I’m not going to pass four of my classes, which either means I’ll have to go to summer school or basically repeat junior year.”