NaNoWriMo2010 Attempt #1
It was kind of comical. We were all standing around Joanie, as she swiped her passport, and fumbled through the electronic check-in. There were her grandparents, Chris and I, all standing kind of helplessly, with her large duffle black bag at our feet. She had a backpack too, giving her a hunched effect, as she crouched over the screen. Wisps of her blonde hair had somehow fell in front of her face, creating a veil or pale vapors.
Her grandmother was as sweet as pie. She had her arm around my waist, quite literally, because she was nine inches shorter than me, her graying hair pulled back into the most perfect chignon. She patted my hand as I sniffled helplessly. I wish I wasn’t making such a scene, but I couldn’t help it.
In stark contrast, on the other side her grandfather stood tall, an inch or two above me, his hands behind his back solemnly, his posture reminiscent of military days. He had a three-piece suit on, with a bow tie. His hair was astray though, his glasses and a little crooked.
Then, there was Chris, partially blurred by Joanie’s body. His jaw was slack, and he had this helpless look on his face. He didn’t quite know what to do. No one really knew quite what to make of him being there.
The machine spit out Joanie’s boarding passes, and she fit them between the pages of her passport before turning from us. She turned to Chris and help his hand.
“Good-bye,” she said.
He swallowed in response, and leaned on the check-in machine despondently.
Joanie turned, and leaned down, hugging her grandmother, who swayed back and fourth, patting her hair, cooing. Joanie let out a sob, before letting go, and hugging her grandfather awkwardly, before turning to me.
We both looked at each other. Joanie’s blonde hair was flying out of her perfect braid, her blue eyes were perfect little jewels in her lovely face, freckles still dotting her flushed skin in remembrance of summer. Tears were swirling in the rims of her eyes, and she scrunched up her face, and sobbed unexpectedly, falling into my arms. We began to cry in unison.
Joanie and I were sisters. We made friends in kindergarten and hadn’t turned back since. Her departure meant losing a part of me. Losing years of me. Eleven perfect years, with my other half. I had no idea what I was going to do.
I hiccupped loudly into her shoulders. Her hair smelt like strawberries.
“It will be okay,” she whispered.
“But I’m going to miss you!” I replied.
“I’ll write to you.”
I cried. “What am I going to do without you?”
Joanie released herself from the hug, and looked me square in the eyes, and told me with the truest sincerity. “You’ll be okay.”
I pulled her close to me. “I’m going to pray for you.”
She sobs, her voice breaking, “I’ll pray for you, too”
Joanie kisses my cheek and pulls out of the hug, holding my hands. “I’m going to miss you, Margaret. I love you. Be good.”
She lets go, and her grandmother hugs her again momentarily, before Joanie picks up her bags and walks towards security, her head down, the small silver cross glinting dimly in the artificial light. She turns the corner and disappears.
We all stand there, sort of shell shocked. I know my face must look ugly and red, and my hair, which, to be honest, has never been in place, a horrible curly mess framing it. Joanie’s grandmother is wringing her hands with her linen handkerchief, Chris is still standing there crooked and awkward, taller than us all, and, Joanie’s grandfather still stands there stoically, with his hands behind his back.
We walk to the parking lot together, Chris and I lagging behind the busy grandparents.
“Do you need a ride, darling?” Joanie’s grandmother asked.
Chris inhales, nodding, “Yeah, that would be great, actually. Thank you so much.”
So, together, we make our way to their little car. A simple blue rosary hangs from the mirror, silhouetted by the evening sun.
Joanie collected rosaries. I bet that it had been one of her gifts to her grandparents. I remembered the one she had given me, sealed away in a box on my night side table.
Joanie’s grandparents sat in the front, her grandfather driving, her grandmother humming along to the classical music they were playing, and keep time by tapping her hand on her leg. Chris slouched next to me in the back, his messy brown hair draping his face. I simply sat, and stared at my hands, or stared out the window, trying to reasonably deal with the fact that Joanie was actually gone. I had known that she was leaving all summer, maybe the whole time I had known her, but there’s a difference between slowly ignoring a fact, and coming face-to-face with it. It was still summer, now. But now I was more alone than I had ever been.
Almost like a bonsai tree to wire, I had grown my life around Joanie. She was the only person I knew who seemed to care about me, or care about anything really. It was something I wanted to imitate. I didn’t want to be like my uncongenial who only seemed to care about their business. I didn’t want to be like my classmates who only seemed to care about their petty fights. I wanted something bigger. Joanie always offered that.
Joanie is a vibrant Christian. She has always been one. She was born into it. Her parents were missionaries, and led an organization that ran missions in poor nations around the world. Once she was old enough to attend school properly, her grandparents had begged their daughter to stop running around with Joanie like she was a savage child. Seeing their reasoning, Joanie’s parents decided to allow Joanie to stay with them, while she carried out her schooling.
Joanie visited her parents in the summer, and always talked about going off to live with them. It never really felt tangible though, always this foreign idea, like visiting Asia (which, in all honesty, is something she had done). I had never met her real parents, and they were just this far-off mystical strangers to me. She didn’t share much about them with me. They were close to her I think, the one thing she could keep secret and safe from the world, while everything else she did was held up on a pedestal. I always found it ironic, the way that her grandparents were such prominent figures in her life, and her parents so distant, whereas with me it was completely opposite.
I wondered what life would be like, living with my grandparents instead. They lived in Florida, in a small cement house, with plastic flamingos on the lawn. My grandmother kept a kooky collection of porcelain figures in the foyer, and my grandfather gardened. They always had an interesting stories about something. And when the stories weren’t interesting, they made something up. I hadn’t visited them since I was thirteen.
I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, and pulled it open.
“want to go to church tonight?”
I looked over at him, and he was staring out the car window nonchalantly. I almost wanted to laugh at his irrational fear of Joanie’s grandparents. But, instead, I smirked and typed back: sure.
Soon, we pulled up to his house, and he hoped out, smiling at me, and thanking the grandparents duly, leaving me to sit in the backseat of their car, alone, without Joanie for the first time.
***
There is an eerie calm when your in church. It is a sort of all encompassing experience in church, as you sit, stand, sit, stand, kneel, cross yourself, bow you head, walk. There’s the smell of incense, and the romantic flickering of candles while the priest gives his homily, and soft, almost paper, taste of the Eucharist melting in your mouth. If you concentrate really hard, you can feel all the church bussing in unison through hymns. If you try really hard, you forget that you are just a part of a large group of people, and instead feel like your simply the whole. This is the whole group. This is your home. Your family. And there’s a feeling on invincibility, like, together, all our voices are so much louder than when we are alone. Together, God might hear us, and understand.
Church can be a drug if you let it. If you let it, church can be the most inspirational thing in the world.
Afterwards, Chris blasted Switchfoot in his mom’s Prius, and stopped at a gas station to pick up some junk.
“Come on,” he told me. “Tonight, we feast.”
We walked into the gas station. He grabbed a few large bags of chips off the shelves, some cookies, some licorice, M&Ms and mentos. We went to the back of the store and he handed me two 2 litre bottles of Pepsi. After checking out, we drove around for a half hour before settling on an empty park in a neighborhood that neither of us lived in. With our plastic bags, we ran to the dilapidated park, where rusty chains hung in place of swings, kicking up sand in our wake. Chris decidedly say under the monkey bars, leaning against the post lazily.
“I don’t even know what this means anymore,” he told me, while screwing open the pop bottle. “I just hate how easily she left.”
Chris had been a casual friend of ours for about two years. We met him at a retreat. He was an only child. He played guitar. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he had decided to ask Joanie out. It had created an awkward balance this summer, having him around. It was like having a broken foot.
But, the whole summer was kind of a broken foot in itself. Joanie never spent summers in town, and it was haunting to have her in town, only to know how soon she would be leaving.
It was her birthday in the end of July, and our Youth Group threw a party for her in the church hall. After sung happy birthday, she escaped to the bathroom. I heard her sniffling behind the stall, and I didn’t know what to do. For every time that she had been there for me, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand what it must feel like, to know that everything you had known was about to be gone. She chose it, though, and maybe because of that, I didn’t quite forgive her. But had she really? I sometimes wondered if she really wanted to go live with her parents, or if she just felt obligated, after all the years of talking about it, after all the chatter about wanting to change the world for the better.
Chris had simply come at a bad time. I don’t think that Joanie didn’t love him. I think she just wasn’t allowing herself to. He really did have impeccable timing, though. He knew the end was inevitable, and still went through with it. I asked him why once, and he told me, simply that he just, “needed to know.”
So they were together. And now, they weren’t.
“I hate to say it,” I replied, unscrewing my pop bottle as well, and taking a swig. “But you knew it was coming.”
“Still doesn’t change anything. She most definitely could have stayed until senior year, if she really wanted.”
I wanted to tell him to give her more credit.
“I know, I’m kind of being selfish, and that I should support her,” he rubs his face, “But I really believe that she could have been it. And now, what? Maybe we’ll write a few letters, chat on skype or something. It’s just… it kind of hurts. She left me with a handshake… And I miss her already. I just feel like maybe if I had told her earlier or done something different, maybe she would have stayed.”
I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as well. If I had been a better friend, if I had been more interesting, if I had gotten her better presents at Christmas… all of these were stupid simple vain things, but I kind of just felt like it was my fault that she left. That she chose to left after all this time instead of just waiting a little longer.
“We’re supposed to be happy. This is… everything she believes in. Everything she’s been working towards. Like, she’s going to go live with her parents. Can you even imagine not living with your parents? For eleven years?”
Chris sighed. “Yeah, you’re right… it’s just that she was so great.”
I closed my eyes. “She is great. She is.”
We were quite for a while.
“Hey,” Chris tells me. “To Joanie.”
I lean in to meet him halfway, awkwardly crashing our large plastic bottles together. “To Joanie.”
***
School began two days later. It went. It was school. I ended up spending a lot of time studying, and going to clubs to burn time. Environmental Club, Knitting Club, Choir, Christian Club, LGBT… I ended up losing track. I found that by focusing on those things, it was easier to get through. There were still people I knew around school, if I needed to talk to anyone. I just didn’t, though. It wasn’t my nature.
Until we were given a group assignment in politics. The gist of it was that we would get into groups, and study a political philosopher and present our findings to the class.
I kept my head down, as the class busily divided itself. It was stupid, but I found myself holding back tears. Like, this one thing, this stupid project, was making me completely fall apart. It had broken my stride. I couldn’t concentrate on distraction any more, and I just felt so alone. I hadn’t heard from Joanie, which I expected. She warned that internet wouldn’t be readily available, but, I just missed her. Simply, and truly. I missed having someone to talk with, or drink hot chocolate with. I missed being next to her natural light, that just drew everyone in to her. I missed being a part of that. Everything felt so grey without her.
“Hey. Um, can I be the third person in your group?”
I ignored the voice, willing myself not to look up.
“Margaret?” I looked up. It was Holly Day. I had no idea why she would need to be in my group. She was one of the most popular people in school.
I looked around me, too, in case. I didn’t want it to be some stupid joke, or something. I would just keep ignoring her if that was the case.
But, no one seemed to have taken any notice. No one seemed to particularly care.
“Uh, yeah… sure.”
“Don’t act so surprise,” she deadpanned.
I turned to look behind me, noticing the brunette boy sitting behind me, scrolling through his iPod. He must have been the second member of the group.
Holly looks at me puzzled. “You’re super red. Are you okay?”
I roll my lips into my mouth, and nod. She kind of recoils, like she senses that she’s done something wrong.
We’re assigned with Thomas Hobbes for the assignment.
“That sucks,” Holly commented. “He’s such a downer.”
The other boy was still listening to his iPod.
Holly leaned in, “Do you know his name?”
I shrugged. “No clue.”
“Hey!” He didn’t respond. She pulls out one of his ear buds. “Yo. You’re a part of this project, too, guy. I’d appreciate it if you listened.” Her voice is high pitched and delicate, except not in an annoying way. Kind of like glass chiming.
“What’s your name?” Holly demands.
“Jim.”
She holds out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Jim, I’m Holly. This is Margaret. We’re going to have to meet up or something to do this. Can you give me your number? I’ll text you when we’re meeting. You’ll just have to show up.”
Jim kind of looks at her in disbelief. She’s pretty. He’s not going to say no. I think he’s still trying to comprehend that he is a part of a group that is doing a project for school. “Sure. Whatever.”
She scrolls through her phone and inserts his number, and then mine. The bell rings soon after, and we agree to meet up before the week ends.
Instead of immediately jumping up and leaving, Holly has to put some of her stuff together.
“Hey, Margaret,” Holly stops me.
“Yeah?”
“My friends and I are going out for lunch. Do you want to come?”
It’s my turn to look at her in disbelief. “What?”
She looks embarrassed, but this doesn’t phase her. “Do you want to come to lunch with me? We’re probably going to go out, and get something cheap, but…”
“Uh…” I pause.
“Look, don’t worry about it.” She gets up quickly, and I see a wave of hurt, or something like it, flash on her face.
“Hey!” I call, as she pushes her way past me to the door. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure it’d be really cool to come. I just… I have to think.”
Holly pauses in her tracks shifting her weight. “Seriously?”
This is so awkward.
“No, I’m just b.s.-ing you.”
She laughs. “You’re being sarcastic, right?”
I nod.
“Okay, I’ll come with you to your locker, then we’ll stop by mine? They should be waiting outside.”
“Do I know them?”
“Probably not. But they’re really cool. Trust me.”
I kind of feel a wave of nervousness wash over me, but swallow it, quickly. I was going to lunch with someone.
Holly chatted nervously with me, as we walked down the hallway.
“It’s going to be my boyfriend, and a few of his friends. He’s in college. Most of them are. They’re in a band together, though. You’ll like him, once you get to know him, but he’s a little rough on the edges. It’ll be really good having you, because usually I’m just alone with the boys…”
And on, and on she went, while I put my backpack into my locker, and pulled out my hoodie. While we continued down the crowded stairway to her locker. While we continued out into the parking lot.
“They should be in an old red pick-up truck.”
The parking lot was kind of crowded, with kids walking out or driving, everyone going off to carry out their lunch plans.
Holly tip-toed, and then pointed. “Right there. Follow me.”
So, I did.
Battling the sound of other teenaged stereo systems, heavy metal was emanating from the rusty truck. Sitting in the bed of the truckwere two dirty boys, and I could briefly make out the silhouette of another in the cab.
“Heeyy! Holly!” the boy facing us called. He had black hair, circling his head in a huge fuzzy afro. He was sporting a beard as well, despite the fact that his lively eyes and skinniness hinted that he was near my age. He was wearing glasses, as well.
The second boy turned, a huge grin lighting up his face. He had blond hair that fell below his cheeks, almost exactly like Kurt Cobain. “Hey, babe.”
Holly stepped up, kissing him. “How are you?”
“Fantastic.” They stare at each other momentarily, before the dark-haired boy interrupts.
“Who’s your friend, Holly?”
Holly breaks from her reverie, turning to me. “This is Margaret. She’s in my politics class.”
“Ahhh. Good old political science.” He pushes his glasses up on his noise.
“Heeello,” the blond grins. “Why don’t you guys hop in quick, so we can go?” He stands up, holding Holly’s hand to pull her up, and then doing the same for me. I end up sitting next to the dark haired boy, across from Holly.
“I’m Levi Meiri,” he says holding out his hand to me.
“Nice to meet you.”
“And this,” Holly tells me, “Is David,” she rests her head on his shoulder. “And Liam is the one driving.” She turns, yelling. “Hey, Liam!”
He sticks his hand out of the window in response. “I brought another ginge around, so maybe you two can be friends!”
“It’s called fucking auburn!” he shouts back.
“Last time I heard, that‘s just another shade of red!”
He sticks his middle finger at her, before revving the truck and pulling off.
Holly chuckles to herself, nuzzling David.
Levi slouches down, so that his head is awkwardly angled against the walls of the bed, and he closes his eyes, appreciating the music. It’s so overpowering, that combined with the wind, it makes it impossible to talk (what would I say, anyway..?) Holly and David are amusing themselves by comparing their hands, so, I follow Levi’s lead, and just listen to the music.
It gets cold and awkward, sitting on the back of the truck, with the wind whipping my hair around my face, battering my skin, making me freeze. I’m starting to wonder why I’m here, but, luckily, it’s not long before we pull into a sketchy pizza place, and Liam cuts the engine.
He hops out, and circles around to us. “Okay, cough it up.” He’s tall , at least six foot, and thin. His hair, like Holly had teased him, was dark auburn -- definitely more brown than red, in my opinion. Aviators on top of his perma-scowl added to his sobriety.
David is reaching into his pocket, while Levi hands him a five dollar bill. David is counting coins, when Holly says, “You didn’t introduce yourself, prick.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies sharply. “Is someone paying for her?”
“I’ll” - Levi begins.
“I have food,” I mumble defensively.
“Huh?” Liam turns to me.
“I have food,” I repeated, loudly.
“What do you have?”
Does it matter? “A sandwich.”
“What, is it peanut butter and jelly? Is this fucking third grade? Have you ever eaten here before?”
“Can you stop being such a jerk for a second?” Holly snaps. “Seriously Liam. Back the fuck off.”
“Whatever.” He grabs David’s money and disappears into the greasy building.
“Don’t mind him,” Holly tells me. “He’s just PMSing today. Normally, he’s not such an ass.”
Soon Liam returns with a white box soaked with oil. He passes the box to David, and lithely jumps into the bed of the truck.
Levi manages to be the first one to reach into the box, pulling out a slice of shiny, gooey pizza. He takes a large bite, and the cheese stretches and hangs between his mouth and the pizza slice. David offers the box to Holly, before taking a piece.
“You should have a piece,” Liam says authoritatively.
I raise my eyebrows. He can’t be serious. “I’m fine.”
“I know it looks disgusting, but I swear that it’s the best pizza in the world.”
“I didn’t pay for my share.”
“There’s enough.”
“I have my sandwich.”
“Margaret,” Holly intercedes. “Have some.”
I glare at her.
“I know Liam was being a jerk, but, seriously.”
Now Liam glares at her. “Oh, yeah, sorry, um, did I forget something? You don’t exactly have the best of luck with girlfriends.”
Holly recoils visibly, and David wraps a hand around her, his fingers awkwardly sprawled as he tries not to stain her shirt with grease.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, Holly, I just”-
Holly stops him with a hard stare, before turning to me, and says, “If you haven’t had Newman’s before, like, you need to.”
I kneel, then lean forward to take a piece cautiously. Napkins would have been incredibly helpful -- plates would have been better. The thin crust bends to gravity, and grease flows throw my fingers. Holding the pizza as far away from me as possible, I take a bite, and try to balance the slice in one hand, so that I can wipe my face.
“It’s great. Thank you,” I say automatically. Holly looks pleased, though.
***
Going out doesn’t become a tradition, but hanging out with Holly does. As if the weird little references during lunch at Newman’s wasn’t a hint in itself, then the hanging out with me definitely was. It wasn’t that I minded her company, but Holly had always been popular, at least from what I remembered. The fact that she was ignored by nearly everyone at school except for me was really strange. Something had to have happened in the social sphere that I wasn’t aware or. What ever happened in the social sphere that I was aware of?
I didn’t want to pry though.
One day, though, one of my friends from Christian Club said, “I heard that you’re hanging out a lot with Holly Day?”
“Yeah, it turns out she’s pretty cool.”
Tom nodded. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. I think it’s really good that you’re reaching out to her, but, you have to be careful, Margaret. Maybe you should bring her to Christian Club.”
I appraise him. “Well, Tom, I don’t know if she’s Christian, or not.”
“Yeah, but…” he shrugs. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Tom, I kind of think it would be appropriate if”--
“Just, Margaret. You don’t have to. I think it would be a good idea. I’m not one to believe rumors, but I’ve heard some stuff going around, and I just… if you need anything… if she needs anything… we’ll be welcoming.”
I look at him, curiously trying to figure out his motive. “Thanks,” I reply, curtly.
After that, I felt like I needed to know. I felt like I needed to know more than anything, because if I was going to be hanging out with Holly Day, I would appreciate it if I knew what sort of rumors were going on about her. But how do you approach the subject? I’d never had to deal with rumors. Some teasing here and there, but never rumors. I felt stupid and insensitive, but I thought I had a right to know. So, casually I invited her to Christian Club, hoping that, maybe, I would find something out there.
“Are you a part of any clubs?” I asked her one day. We were sitting in the public library drinking Starbuck’s.
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “I’ve always been too busy. It hasn’t ever appealed to me.”
“Are you busy tomorrow at lunch?”
“Depends.”
I take a deep breath. “You could come to Christian Club with me.”
She snorted. “Are you serious? Christian Club?”
“Yeah. Christian Club.”
“I apologize, Margaret. I love you and all, but I am no Joanie Striker.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “Well, it’s your choice, but you’re welcome to come, if you want. You’re always welcome. ”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. By the way, not meaning to change the subject, but this Friday, the guys are having a gig. Would you want to come?”
“I’d probably have to check with my parents first, but…”
I look up, and see Chris walking toward me. “Margaret! Hey. I haven’t seen you, in forever.”
I grin. “Yeah, what’s up? By the way this is my friend Holly. Holly, this is Chris.”
Chris shakes her hand., and looks behind him. There’s a group of guys hanging behind going off to do their own thing. “Those would be my friends, except they’re kind of ditching me… So, how is school going?”
“Great, yeah… How’s school for you? How’s senior year? ”
He shrugs. “It’s good. It goes. I’m going to take the SAT in October, again, and… try not to freak out. But everything has a tendency to work out how it’s supposed to, right? I don’t know, I was even thinking that I might take a gap year -- maybe with Joanie’s parents organization or something -- if I don’t get in where I want. Or maybe I’ll work or something. I don’t know. I honestly have no idea what I want to pursue. Have you heard from Joanie, anyways?”
“No, but it’s just been a little over two weeks now. I’m not too worried. It might be at least a month until she can get in contact, if that.”
“Yeah…” he trails off. “Do you think she’s going to get in contact with me?”
I pause because I don’t want to lie to him.
“It’s okay you don’t have to answer me.”
“No, I just honestly can’t say. I have no idea.”
“Well, if you do hear from her, let her know that I’m praying for her, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“We should hang out again, too. It was fun hanging out in the park with you. What’s your number? I don’t think I have it.”
“Do you have your phone with you?”
“Yeah,” he pulls it out of his pocket, and hands it to me, so that I can enter the number. He turns to Holly. “So, were you a friend of Joanie’s?”
“Not…per say. Margaret says really great things about her, though. You guys dated?”
“For like, three months. I mean, it wasn’t long, and we didn't really publicize it oy anything, but..."
"That really sucks, though. Like, just beginning a relationship with someone and they have to move away."
Chris shrugs. His face is stoney, and I know he doesn't really want to get into it.
"You seem really cool though. I was just telling Margaret that my boyfriend's band is having a gig on Friday. You're totally welcome to come if you want, or bring your friends, or whatever."
"Really? Cool. What's their name?"
"Jack the Giant. They've been together for a little over a year. They've just been playing gigs, but they're trying to release an EP soon, though."
"Yeah... I'm actually a musician, too. I'm not a part of a band or anything, but I play for church sometimes, and stuff. My dad taught me. It's a great instrument."
I hand Chris back his phone. "Thank you. So where's the gig?"
"504 Krishna Road. It's kind of a sketchy pub, not too far off from the university. It's at, like, nine."
"Cool. I'll probably tell Margaret if I'm coming or not. Thanks for inviting me. It was really great to meet you."
"You, too."
Chris gives me a little wave. "See you soon, Margaret."
He walks off, looking awkwardly for his friends, before getting on th escalator, and texting someone.
"Who was that?" Holly hisses. "He's super hot."
I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "You and him should totally get together."
I laugh. "Uh, no."
"Why not?"
"Um, for one, he's Joanie's ex?"
"And Joanie is gone. Where did she go again?"
"Sudan."
"Yeah, Joanie is in Sudan, riding elephants or whatever without internet or phones, and, now, there's this totally hot guy, like, here, alone..."
"I really don't feel comfortable with that idea. He's like my brother."
"Right. Whatever you say. He was totally giving you the signs, though."
I laugh. "The signs?"
"Yes! He totally gave you the signs."
I think of a bad M. Night Shyamalan joke, but contain myself. "What were the signs?"
"He was all 'oh, we should hang out,' and 'can i have your number?'"
"Yeah, but it wasn't like that. We were all friends, him, Joanie, and me, before they started going out."
"Exactly! So, what doesn't make you fair game? He could have just as easily asked you out instead of her three months ago."
I shake my head. "It doesn't work like that. He's just really hurt. He needs something to hold on to. Besides, what makes YOU the expert of signs."
"No offense, Margaret, but I think I'm a little better at social skills and guys than you are. Have you ever even kissed a guy?"
"I have actually, thanks." I look up at her, and we hold each other's gaze for a second before laughing.
"Ah, you just never saw them together. They had something special."
"Okay," she surrenders. "Whatever you say. But, I swear, if it's not him, you're getting together with someoner on Friday. I'm forcing you."
"Whatever you say."
***
It wasn't so simple to just ask my parents to go to some pub to watch an obscure band play music with a ton of drunk teenagers. So, I sold it to them as having a sleepover with Holly, and I think, in all honesty, that they were a little relieved.
"That's great, Margaret," my mom said. "It's really good that you're making new friends."
"Yeah," my dad added. "We were getting a little worried there. You seemed so boggged down in school, and you're clubs, and that's just not healthy for a girl your age."
Thanks, Dad.
I love it when parents talk about being worried about you. Like, "Oh, sorry sweetheart, we weren't going to tell you this, but we secretly questioned your sanity due to your lack of a social life."
So, on Friday, I took the bus with Holly to her house. It was in a bit of a questionable neighborhood, except not really. You don't really get super questionable in our city. The people next door probably just owned a ton of black clothes, and went to Rocky Horror every Halloween or whatever.
It was a small house, though. Kind of dirty, but only by my standards, which are the standards of a paranoid stay-at-home mom. Meaning that, there are a few dirty dishes are in the sink, and you wouldn’t eat off the floor, even though you would sit on it… etc.
It lacked something, though. I expected style from Holly Day, and the house seemed kind of generic. A plain foyer and linoleum tiles. The kitchen was made up of a white fridge, a stainless steel sink filled with some dirty dishes, fluorescent lights, a Formica counter and a wooden table with a few seats. There was a note on the table in loopy cursive, and Holly picked it up to read it, resting her messenger bag in one of the chairs and making her way to the fridge.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, opening the door.
“Sure.”
“We have,” she calls her voice muffled from behind the door. “Pop, orange juice, water, milk…”
“Pop sounds good. Do you have Pepsi, or something?”
“Good call.” She hands me a cold can. “You will most definitely need more later.
“I’m thinking they’re going to come around five or something, and steal food from me, but we won’t need to actually leave the house until, like, seven at the earliest. I have no idea if they need to set up or do sound check or whatever. So, I guess we can do whatever in the meantime. Want some chips or a snack or whatever?”
“I’m okay.”
"So, what do you want to do? We could watch a movie, or something, or go up to my room, but my room is actually, like insane. I didn't really get a chance to clean it up or anything and shit is just...everywhere."
I laugh. "It's cool. Whatever you want to do."
"Okay. Can you wait down here for, like a second while I go try to make my room kind of presentable?"
"No problem."
Holly runs off up the stairs, and I exam the down stairs. I walk into the living room, which is small and simple: a fireplace, two leather couches, a T.V., and a stereo system. The carpet is plush, though, a lovely red, and thick vertical black-and-white stripes run up and down the wall paper.
I keep walking. There's a door that leads into a laundry room, which has a huge basket in the doorway filled with a man's clothes. Then there's a downstairs bathroom with scented candles.
It feels like something is missing, and I don't know what.
I walk through the foyer, into the dining room. It has wooden floors, and an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner, and pictures on the wall. One is black and white of some band playing. Another is an awkward picture of a white guy's face next to a baby. The picture is really awkward, though. It looks like it was taken on a disposable camera. His eyes are closed, and the picture is overexposed. The baby is looking straight into the camera, with her (the ears are pierced, and she's wearing pink) bottom lip tucked into her mouth. In the next picture, the same baby and man are in front of a window on a bus. They're silhouetted against the blurred scenery, and the child is reaching out, grabbing his nose.
"Hey." It's Holly. "I see you found the baby pictures."
"That's your Dad?"
She grins. "Yeah. He used to be in a band." She jerks her head towards the first picture. "I don't know why he has these pictures up. Or why he framed them at all. They're kind of bad. He was most definitely was drunk in this one." She points to the overexposed one. "I don't think we've taken a picture together since the 90s. But it's kind of endearing that he still treasures them.” She looks at the pictures. “My mom took most of them, too, which is funny. I guess it doesn’t