The Brat and the Brainiac (10 page)

Once I’m up in my bedroom, I throw myself down on the bed and cry. I don’t know why I’m so upset about having to stay here while they’re gone. I love my home, and Jason’s condo is pretty cramped with all my junk lying around, and more to come. I guess we can work it so I just spend the night all the time and then come home, because the truth is, there’s not even any closet space at his place.

I sit up and grab my phone, sitting cross-legged on my bed. I churn out a quick text to tell him I agree with him, and sit back and wait for his response.

Before I know it, Uncle Tommy’s knocking at the door.

“Come in,” I tell him.

He comes in and adjusts his ball cap, and then he just looks at me with a slight shake of his head.

“What?”

“You really blew it this time,” he tells me.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, he says you’re finished. He doesn’t want to marry you anymore and he doesn’t want to be your boyfriend.”

My phone slides out of my nerveless hand and I just stare at him, astounded.

“I think it was that final ‘fuck you’ that got him.”

I pick up my phone and speed-dial Jason’s number, my heart pounding. I’m too wound up to even cry, too panicked to think of anything but getting Jason back.

My call goes straight to voice-mail, and I feel like an elephant’s stepping on my chest. I’m having a hard time breathing and my heart hurts.

“Uncle Tommy...”

“Sorry, Brat, but you did this to yourself.”

I feel my butt throbbing from my earlier spanking, and I just want to cry. I’d rather have twenty minutes of the bath brush than this empty feeling I have inside.

I try to call again with the same result, and I set my phone down on my nightstand.

“Maybe...maybe he just needs a day or two to think about it,” I say.

Uncle Tommy shakes his head.

“I don’t think so, kiddo.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“He doesn’t like the way you treat him when you’re mad.”

I glance up at him, and he doesn’t look as depressed about it as he should.

I say, “You’re glad this happened, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, in a way. I’ve realized I don’t want you to live somewhere else. I want you here.”

“Why can’t we just ask him to move in here, too, then? There’s tons of room here.”

“Because he doesn’t want you anymore.”

A big, salty tear rolls down my cheek and I dash it away.

“I need him. I want him. Please make him come back.”
            “It’s over, Miranda.”

I gasp for breath and he offers to go get me a paper bag to breathe into. I refuse it and try on my own.

“Look,” he tells me. “I know this is the worst possible time for this, but I’ve got to go finish packing and get the hell out of here.”

“Okay.”

A little while later, Uncle Tommy comes and kisses me on the cheek, reminding me to behave.

“You listen to Ignatius while I’m gone. I love you, Brat.”

“Love you, too.”

After he’s gone, I go downstairs to at least hang out with my best friend, but even he’s unsympathetic.

“You drown in a spoon of water,” he tells me.

“I know.”

“Maybe you’ll learn for next time.”

“I hope so. It’d be kind of dumb to repeat the same mistakes over again.”

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks.

“Nothing. I’m too upset to eat.”

“Nonsense. Look how skinny you are.”

“Just make me some soup, then. Maybe I can choke that down.”

He grabs his favorite chef’s knife out of the block and gets an onion out of a basket he keeps under the counter. He moves the cutting board over so we’re across from each other while he works.

For the first time ever, I really pay attention to his technique, watching carefully as he cuts the onion, then some celery and carrots. Finally, he cuts up some chicken breasts.

“Ignatius?”

“Yes?”

“Will you teach me how to scrub a toilet?”

He looks up at me and laughs.

“Why, for the love of God?”

“In case I ever get Jason back, so I’ll know how to do stuff. How about ironing a shirt? I bet I’ll need to know that, too.”

“You can’t afford any help? At forty thousand dollars a year?”

“It always just seems to evaporate.”

“There are families of four who get by on less.”

“No, there aren’t,” I tell him, sure he’s joking.

He grabs me an ink pen and a sheet of paper.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Do the math. How much are you going to make?”

“Nine bucks an hour.”

“How many hours a week?”

“I don’t know. About thirty.”

I sit there and figure it out, and I’m dismayed to find it’s not even three hundred dollars a week. Before he even suggests it, I’m figuring out what that is a month, then a quarter, then a year.

“No,” I say aloud. “This can’t be right.”

He glances at my figures and nods.

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“That’s how much I’m going to make a year?”

“What you need to learn to do is budget. How about you get up early tomorrow and we’ll start your lessons?”

“I have to work tomorrow from eleven to five, but how about after?”

After work, I rush home, eager for Ignatius to teach me all that junk about housework and living like a pauper. As we start going through my lessons, I realize it’s a lot harder than I expected it would be. There’s a lot to remember about doing this and not doing that. Ignatius tells me once you get on a schedule, though, you’re kind of set. We don’t get to the ironing, because we have to eat dinner and goof off until Uncle Tommy calls.

“How’s Jason?” I ask right away.

“Fine. Sad. I saw him today after the game and he looked pretty tore back. Poor guy, he’s probably dying to call you.”

My eyes fill with tears. I never meant to hurt him. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, but I have a rotten temper and I’m kind of bratty, is all. The elephant’s back, stepping on my chest again, so I try to distract myself by telling Uncle Tommy all about my plan to learn housework.

“What are you doing, trying to replace Ignatius? Because I won’t let him go.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to. Do you think there’s any way Jason can find out I’m learning housework?”

“Let’s just leave him alone for a couple of days, and then maybe I’ll go talk to him.”

“Okay. You probably know best in this case.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t had to dump a chick in months. Besides, I don’t dump them if I’m going to feel bad about it, like he does. I dump them because I don’t care anymore.”

I laugh. “You’re way more experienced with women than he is. I mean, I kind of had to teach him where to zoom in at.”

“All right. I’m getting off the phone before you say something horrifying.”

“Okay. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Brat.”

I hang up with Uncle Tommy, and a little while later, my phone rings again. Ignatius is teaching me how to load the dishwasher for maximum savings, so I answer, just for a break.

“Hi, Miranda. This is Amanda Rankin.”

“Hi,” I say, happy to hear from her. “How are you?”

“Do you want to go shopping tomorrow? Jordan’s birthday is coming up and I need to get him something.”

“Okay. I’ll be working until five. I got a job, did you know? I can meet you there at five.”

We hash out the details, and I turn back to Ignatius.

“Well, it’s good to see you still maintain your social life, even through your heartbreak.”

“Kittens,” I say.

“Kittens? Where?”

“No, you have to say ‘kittens’ in your head. That’s what they taught us in charm school. It makes you smile, even when you’re down, because who can think of kittens and not smile?”

“Rats and mice.”

“Stop. I’m trying to be cheerful.”

But just thinking about being cheerful leads me on to thinking about Jason and his sweet, lop-sided smile.

“All he ever wanted was for me to be happy,” I tell Ignatius. “I am such a bitch.”

“Miranda...”

“No. I mean, I probably looked like a spoiled little princess when I stomped up the stairs and told him to fuck off.”

“Yes. Your uncle’s been telling you to curb your temper for years now. Maybe now you’ll listen.”

“Damn right I will,” I tell him. “Now what were you saying about silverware?”

Amanda and I have a pretty good time shopping, even though my heart aches inside, especially when she talks about Jason.

“I hear you’re going out with that nice Jewish boy who coaches pitching.”

“He’s not Jewish. I don’t think. No, he totally ate a ham sandwich in front of me. But anyways, we broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Oh, well, plenty of fish in the sea.”

“What’s it like being married?” I ask, and she smiles. I have to hurry to keep up with her because she has a long stride, but I manage.

“It’s great. I know a lot of people complain about their marriages, but I love it, I love being married to my best friend.”

I think about her answer, and I wonder if Jason and I were best friends. It’s true we didn’t know each other a hundred percent, but I feel like we bonded immediately. When I first went up to him at Uncle Tommy’s party, I fully meant to blow him off, but he was so nice I couldn’t.

“Anyway, don’t worry,” she says. “You’re so young and pretty, you’ll have a million chances.”

I nod and wish I could believe that, but deep down inside, I don’t. I don’t think Jason’s the type to spread rumors, but I’ve been around the ball club long enough to know how these things get around. I feel like everyone will find out how stupid and bratty I looked, and my reputation will be in shreds.

“Too bad I don’t know any non-baseball guys,” I tell her.

She stops in the middle of the mall and turns to me.

“Miranda, everything will turn out all right. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry I’m such a whiner.”

“You can talk to me any time.”

We finish shopping and I don’t buy much, even though I have Uncle Tommy’s credit card. For some reason, I just don’t feel like wasting money frivolously right now. I think about Jason and his tiny condo, and I realize things aren’t the way I always thought, that even guys with a decent income can find it hard to make ends meet. That’s a concept I wasn’t really aware of until recently.

“Well, it costs a lot of money to live around here,” says Ignatius, buffing the silver tray he’s just polished. “I’m lucky your uncle lets me live in.”

“He’s really nice, isn’t he? I don’t treat him nearly as well as I ought to.”

I sniffle, and Ignatius glances over at me.

“My God, you’re in a morbid mood lately. I’m going to stop hanging around you if you’re not careful.”

“No, don’t do that. You’re almost my last living friend in the world.”

“Oh, Miranda, I see I’m going to have to send you to bed.”

Our glances meet and my tears spill over. He sets down the tray and the rag and reaches toward me. I can smell the polish on his hand and it’s a comforting smell.

“Can I help?” I ask.

“Certainly. There’s always plenty to do. Why don’t you pour us some wine and I’ll get you set up.”

I go to Uncle Tommy’s wine cellar under the stairs and grab a bottle of the Chianti Ignatius favors. This time I remember to bring back a couple of glasses, too.

“Is two enough, or will Kevin be joining us?”

“You tell me,” he says. “Are you going to weep all over the table if he comes?”

“No. I’ll be all right.”

The funny thing, the thing nobody ever told me about is, physical labor is good for a broken heart. Helping Ignatius polish that silver keeps my mind off Jason. Not all the way, but enough so I can tolerate the presence of Kevin with equanimity, like I promised. Plus, he jumps right in and helps us, so Ignatius’s task is done three times faster than it normally would have been.

“Let’s eat,” I say, having built up an appetite.

“What would you like?”

“What have you got?”

“I’ve got some beautiful prawns. I could make Shrimp Scampi.”

“Okay,” I tell him. “That sounds good. Kev?”

“Yeah, sounds great to me.”

“All right, then. Shrimp Scampi it is. Miranda, come here and grab a knife. I think it’s time you learned cooking, too.”

“Aw, come on, Ignatius. I’m tired.”

“Too bad. A woman’s work is never done. Now get over here and learn how to peel and chop garlic.”