Zero (14 page)

I freeze up
. Jenn catches me standing here and waves a weak hand.

I could run. Just bolt. And probably should, because what the hell is she doing here? I do
not
need this today.

Four years of friendship become too much for me, though. I walk slowly toward her. At least we’re in the open; outdoors, visible. Feels safer somehow. And, ironically, more private.

Jenn is dressed demurely. For Jenn. Blue capris, black cami, and an unbuttoned oxford. Her hair is tied into a cranky ponytail, with wisps of hair sproinging out along her hairline. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her hair pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” Jenn says immediately. “I feel like a stalker. But I didn’t want to show up at your house. And I didn’t think you’d talk to me about this over the phone.”

“Gosh, Jenn, talk to you about
what
?”

Jenn looks at the ground. “Do you have a few minutes? Please, Zero.”

I sit down and she joins me. I look straight ahead, holding my bag in front of me like a shield. “Fine. Talk.”

Jenn wipes her forehead. “It’s complicated,” she starts.

“Uncomplicate it.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, Z—”

“It,”
I say. Finally, I face her. “You fucking kissed me, Jennifer. On the
mouth
. For
starters
! And then you … do you realize … god, I don’t even
know
.” And, well, there it is.

That morning at her house, I was paralyzed; “shocked” would be a polite way to put it.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. Her hands wandered over my entire body. Not until her touch drifted below my waist did I push myself up. I stumbled around to find my clothes as she sat up, all frowny-face like I’d done something confusing. Jenn said my name, with a question mark, and I just said, “Sorry, I need to get home.”

Jenn asked, “Are you okay?”

And I—god, I
smiled
, maybe even convincingly, and said, “Uh-huh! Just gotta get home is all. See ya.” Like nothing had happened.

I didn’t know what else to say. What else was there?

Jenn lay back down, sighed, and stretched. Her arm snaked out and rested where my head had been on her pillow just a minute earlier. “Okay,” she said. “Call me later.”

So I found my keys and drove home, took the longest, hottest shower on record, and did
not
call her, did
not
answer the phone for the following week. The next time I saw her
was the night I met Mike at The Graveyard. And that was almost a month ago now.

Jenn takes a long, deep breath and lets it out. I don’t think she’s faking the way it shakes.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be,” she says.

“Why.”

“Well,
because
, Z, I don’t—”

“No, I mean, why did you do it? Seriously.”

Jenn frowns. “You know, it took me a week to realize why you weren’t talking to me. You didn’t say anything. I had to figure it out myself.”

“Well, I’m saying it now. Why?”

“It never occurred to you? Even a little?”

“What? Hooking up with you? Uh, no.”

“No, not—that. I mean, it never occurred to you that I …”

I wait. Jenn crosses her stomach with her arms and leans toward me. Something in her expression makes me hurt. Goddammit, I’ve
missed
her. I’m having a great time with my first boyfriend, and I haven’t been able to talk to her about it.

“I wanted to be close to you,” Jenn says. “From the first time we hung out. You were
there
, and you seemed to care at least a little….”

“Of course I cared, Jenn! But not like
that
. So, what, you’re gay? God, just say so! I mean, in and of itself? Really not a big deal.”

She actually
laughs
. “No,” she says. “I mean, not exactly. It’s only … ever been … you. In a way.”

Wait, what?

“Are you saying you—what, like, had a
crush
on me?”

“That’s one word for it,” Jenn says. “I guess.”

“Okay, so you’re bi. You could’ve just said that, too.”

“But I’m not! … I don’t think …”

For the first time, it occurs to me to ask her this: “Have you slept with any girls before?”

“… Sort of?”

That’s news. I shouldn’t be surprised. “All right, so there it is. So what?”

“But it wasn’t the same thing,” Jenn says, her eyebrows bunching together. “It was just—it was sex, okay, yes. But it didn’t feel the same. There isn’t anyone else I ever felt like this about. I mean, do you know how many guys I’ve slept with?”

“Um, rounded up? A lot.”

“But I didn’t love any of them. I know they didn’t love me. The next one won’t be any different. With you, I could be myself. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel that way. Like I was worth something.”

Jesus, Jenn. I stare at my boots, taking this in.

“When I’m with
you
, hanging out or coffee or going to those shows … it’s the only time I feel close to being
me
. If that makes any sense.”

I wish it didn’t. I wish I couldn’t compare that feeling to the one I get when I’m with Mike. I wish.

“But you’re
always
with those guys!” I point out. “If you wanted to be around me, why be with them so much?”

“Because sometimes … feeling something else is better, I guess.
Anything
else.”

Oh.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Z, and I am so sorry if I did. It wasn’t about anything like—you know, like getting together. It was about you.”

I hesitate, not sure I want to know the answer to my next question. “So, if I hadn’t gotten up, if I hadn’t gone home when I did … how … 
far
exactly did you plan on going?”

Jenn angles away. “I really don’t know.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezing shut. “God, I’m sorry, you must hate me so much right now.”

“No,” I say cautiously. “I don’t. But I mean … I never wanted to, like, see you naked, you know?”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I get it. I wasn’t thinking, and I didn’t know how to tell you how I felt all these years.” Then she adds quietly: “But you didn’t stop me.”

That pisses me off, but only for a second. Because goddammit, I knew. I knew it was happening, and I didn’t tell her to stop. Maybe it was the way she looked at me, like I was … I dunno. Priceless. When Mike looks at me, I feel cool. Badass. Punk-rock. That morning, Jenn looked at me like I mattered more than anything in the world. More than music, more than art.

“I’m a slut,” Jenn blurts, and her bitterness is damn near tangible. “It’s, like, the only language I speak. I’m good at it. Never been good at anything else. I can’t write you a song or paint you a picture. I would have if I could.”

“You could have told me. You could have just said it like you did just now.”

“And what would you have done, huh, Zero? Given me a nice big hug? Like that wouldn’t change everything?”

“And this didn’t?”

Twin tears trickle down Jenn’s face. I cross my arms, my shoulders bunching up around my ears. Somehow I feel more naked now than I did in her room, and we were
dressed
then. For the most part.

I try to regroup. “Jenn, it’s not—look, it’s not what you did, it’s who you are. You know? It wasn’t fair. If you’d just said something, we could’ve talked about it. But you didn’t talk, you acted. Just like always.”

Which, even as I’m saying it, I realize is something I’ve admired about her, despite myself. I could never go around hooking up with people the way she does. Still—there’s a confidence to it, no matter how messed up it might be.

I stare at the middle space between us, not meeting her eyes. I don’t want to know what I’d see there, whatever that could be. I hate that she’s upset, I do. But I mean … what now?

“Jenn, I don’t know what else to say here.”

“Me either. I don’t know
how
to talk, that’s why I just … did what I know how to do. I want to be able to hang out with you again. You know? Like we used to? I don’t have anyone else.”

She’s right.

For all the time we’ve spent at each other’s houses the past four years, it’s been months since I’ve seen her parents. And as for all the guys—and girls, apparently—none of them
lasted more than a few days. At least when
I’m
by myself, I’m painting or drawing. Maybe it’s true I’m not my biggest fan, like Mike said, but at least I get along with me. I don’t think that’s true for Jenn. I’m alive when I’m alone and working.

What’s Jenn got, when she’s alone?

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Huh. You didn’t do anything to apologize for. Maybe I should’ve just told you what I was thinking that night about my mom and dad.”

“Wait, what about them?”

Jenn sniffs, and rubs at one eye. “They weren’t even there, Zero. At graduation. I know you were kinda focused on that scholarship letter, so I get it if you didn’t notice. But they didn’t even
care
. You did. You were there. I know you were upset, but you still saw me. You hugged me.”

God. At least Mom and Dad came to graduation. Dad gave me a gift certificate for Landscapes Art Supply, Mom hugged me, and for just a little while, despite the SAIC letter, everything was good—no arguments or alcohol. Jenn lingered awkwardly nearby. Mom hugged her, too, but now that Jenn’s saying all this, I realize it can’t be the same as if your own mom or dad was doing it.

“I guess I sorta freaked out,” Jenn goes on. “But I didn’t want to talk about it. About
them
.”

“It’s okay,” I say quietly. “I get it.”

“I swear to god, I won’t ever do anything like that again,” Jenn says. “I won’t. I mean, unless …”

She lets the word hang.

I shake my head. “Look, I don’t want to make you mad or
anything, but I’m kinda like looking around inside myself right now? And it’s just not there. I think I’d know. I’m in love for the first time in my life, and it’s with Mike.”

Whoa. Did I really just say that?

Yep. Ohhhh-kay. We’ll come back to that.

Jenn jerks her head up. “Mike?” she goes. “The drummer? You’re going out now?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

I can see she wants to know more. Until that night, I’d’ve told her, too. Told her everything. Now I’m not sure I can. But I still want to.

“That’s cool,” Jenn says, clearly disappointed that I don’t give up more information. “So … what do we do now? I mean, can we hang out again? Sometime?”

Part of me wants to say no. But there’s this other part … I mean, she is my best friend. And come to think of it, it must’ve taken a lot of guts for her to track me down, make me listen to her apology. I can’t just ignore that. If it was me, I would’ve just locked myself in my room. Like,
forever
. I wouldn’t have tried to contact her at all. Jenn knows me well enough to know that, too. But here she is anyway, trying like hell to make it okay.

Jenn makes no move, no sound. Her shoulders are slumped, her hands forming tight fists like—

Like her heart is broken.

Maybe for the first time in her life.

“Yes,” I say.

She looks up. “You sure?”

I’m not, but I can’t say it. “Yeah.”

Jenn’s expression softens. “Thanks, Z.”

We both stand, looking at each other and not.

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?” she asks.

I don’t say anything. Just step toward her and wrap her in both arms. She does the same. Gotta say, it’s a weird thing; it feels good, like we’re going to be okay now, but awkward too, knowing what I know now. And as I hug her, I sort of feel her body relax, like a weight’s been lifted.

We split apart, and Jenn smiles a bit. “So, you’ll call me?”

“Or you can. Whatever.”

“Cool. Thanks for listening to me. And I’m really sorry.”

“Tell ya what,” I say. “It’s done. Everything’s out in the open, and … we know where we stand, right? So we strike it from the record and go from here.”

Jenn, still smiling that little smile, shakes her head. “You’re pretty awesome, Z.”

“Yeah, I can’t help it.” I finally smile back at her.

Jenn gives me a short little wave. I watch until she disappears around the library, then sit back down on the bench.

Ever wonder why it’s called a crush?

Now I know.

“So, you free
tonight?” Mike says the following Tuesday night on the phone.

“Nope,” I say. “I was planning on hanging with my boyfriend.”

Gothic Rainbow played two gigs over the weekend, F’ing killer shows that blew the roof off these tiny dives where there was barely enough room for all their equipment. But they headlined, which on the one hand means they got paid more than the other bands that night, but on the other hand didn’t amount to much, since the venues were so small.

“So yes, I’m free,” I add, eyeing my next painting for Doc S with disdain. Whether for her or the work, I’m not sure. This one’s the skyline of downtown Phoenix, as seen from Camelback, stretching and twisting upward into a sort of black hole in the sky where the moon should be.

“Cool. Can you bring your gear and meet me at Hole in the Wall?”

“My
gear
? Shooting black tar heroin now, are we?”

“Oh, haha. Your art stuff. What do
you
call it? All your charcoals and whatnot?”

“My gear.”

I hear Mike chuckle. “You’re a mouthy broad sometimes.”

“Thanks!”

“So, seven?”

“Sure,” I tell him.

We say goodbye and hang up. I pack my bag with a sketchbook and box of charcoals and head out. Rather, I
intend
to, because Mom’s busy cooking when I enter the kitchen, and we all know where this is headed.

“Going out,” I say automatically.

Mom sighs. And I stop, hand on the door. I turn around.