All I Need - Chapter 1, Part 2
Angela pulls the passenger side door to Jordan’s car shut as she climbs in and buckles her seatbelt. She looks over at him as he starts the car.
I used to dread going to school, suffering through long classes and navigating the halls. My only refuge was coming home after school to my dad making me a snack. Now I dread coming home. Even before Dad left, towards the end, he was barely here. Now that he doesn’t live with us, and he has the restaurant to worry about, we only see him every two weeks. I remember the night he left, though, so clearly.
Angela closes the front door gently so as not to disturb the quiet, darkened house. She leans against the door, smiling, and turns towards the kitchen. Started, she looks at Patty, whose body is turned directly towards the refrigerator, her palms and forehead lying flat against the vertical surface, shoulders bent forward heavily, as if the triangle connecting her to the fridge is the only thing keeping her upright. Slowly, she turns towards Angela. It is clear that she has been crying: her eyes are puffy, cheeks pale and tear-stained in the moonlight flooding from the window, and her mouth curled into a frown too depressed to be surprised at Angela’s entrance. Angela goes to her, pulls her into a tight hug as Patty collapses against her, arms falling onto Angela’s shoulders awkwardly as she relaxes into the embrace.
Dad moved in with my uncle Neil a month and a half ago. Mom’s never talked about it with me, but I know it was because of his business partner, Hallie Lowenthal. They’re not divorced yet, or anything, but I can’t help feeling it’s just a matter of time. And that when it finally happens, she’ll just break. She tries to stay strong, but she’s working too many hours and everyone can tell she’s not okay. The only good thing to come out of this whole thing is that we’re actually a lot closer.
“So… do you wanna go somewhere?” Jordan asks, peering at Angela from underneath some of his shoulder-length hair, left hand draped over the steering wheel casually.
“Anywhere,” Angela replies, smiling. He grins back at her.
“I’m kinda hungry. You want something to eat?” he questions. She smiles, nods, and tucks her stray hair behind her ear.
They sit across from each other in the booth of a pizza place, eating and laughing. He is twisting his ring around his finger compulsively, and she reaches out a hand to stop it. She leaves her fingers lying on top of his. His eyes scan from where their hands meet up towards her face and look into her eyes kindly. “So, Tino’s having this party on Friday. Do you wanna go?” he asks softly. She gives him a surprised but delighted smile.
“Oh! Yeah. That sounds good,” she says, then pauses, frowning slightly. Is he asking me, like on a date? No, no, it can’t be a date. Why am I still trying to turn every little thing he says into something bigger? “I mean, I’ll have to see what I’m doing, but yeah. That could be fun.” Jordan looks wounded then carefully hides his disappointment at her response by looking down for a moment. He slowly withdraws his fingers and sets them on the edge of the table, tapping a little bit.
“Yeah, I mean, I might check it out. But you should come. With your friends. Maybe I’ll see you there or something.” Angela too appears hurt, but masks her sorrow by shyly smiling at him. “I should get you back, right?” Another weird thing? My mom and Jordan had like, created this, this bond. They like, talked. About stuff. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea.
Angela exits Jordan’s car and turns to wave to the disappearing form halfway up the path to her front door. She enters her house and is immediately bombarded by a bouncing Danielle. “Is he your boyfriend?” She asks, whining slightly.
“No! No. I don’t know,” she admits. She fidgets with the sleeve of her flannel shirt and glances at the floor.
“Well, Mom says you spend an awful lot of time with him for someone who’s not your boyfriend. Ryan says you guys are probably doing it.”
“Danielle!” Patty swoops in, throwing an arm around Danielle’s shoulders as a gesture of both love and irritation. Angela simply glares at both of them. “I was just telling Camille that I thought it was good that the two of you are still friends. And, you’re not… you know… are you?” She smiles, tightly, worried.
“Mom! God! How can you even ask me that?” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll be in my room.” It’s weird, though, to think about. I always thought I’d lose my virginity to Jordan, and sometimes I still think maybe I will. But now that we’re not, like, together… I just can’t picture it happening. At this point, I am just like, embarrassingly far from anything.
Rickie and Angela walk down the hallway, talking excitedly. Rayanne jogs to catch up them. She walks backwards, facing them, as she talks. “Okay, tonight! The three of us are going out! Just like old times. Tino’s having a party and it’s gonna be so awesome! We are gonna have so much fun.” Angela and Rickie look at each other, smiling awkwardly.
“Actually, we were just talking about that,” Rickie replies. Rayanne looks shocked and a little disheartened. “Jordan invited her. But you are so coming with.”
“Coming with, yeah…”
Angela, Rayanne, and Rickie enter through the front door of Tino’s house. Rayanne is dressed extravagantly, with her hair up in countless braids with a ribbon tying it all together, eyes painted in bluish eye shadow and lips stained a dark red. Angela is slightly dressed up in a black dress and has heavier makeup than usual. Though their styles are completely different, they both look beautiful. Rayanne, immediately seeing someone she knows, deserts them at the front door. There are people crowding in every direction, but Angela scans the masses until she sees Jordan among a group of guys. He is facing her, not really participating in the conversation around him. She smiles at him and does a little wave. He nods up at her and pushes off the wall he has been leaning on, cutting through the group to meet her. Rickie, looking distracted, quickly excuses himself just as Jordan arrives to greet them.
“Hey,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Hey. You made it. You want something to drink?” She shakes her head in response. He puts a palm to the small of her back and guides her out of the doorway as more people come in. She leans back against the wall, looking up at his figure looming over her. The left side of his body is pressed against the wall with his arm leaning by her head. His right hand is in his jacket pocket, fidgeting with something inside.
Rickie rushes over to where Angela and Jordan are standing in the living room. He tries to make eye contact with Angela, but failing, reaches out to touch Angela’s arm. She starts, but then sees the look on Rickie’s face, full of worry. “I need your help, just for a few minutes. It’s Rayanne. Tino said he’d drive us home, but I have to go find him first.” Angela bites her lip in distress and looks up at Jordan regretfully. Rickie anxiously waits during their interaction.
“Do you need any help?” Jordan implores hopefully.
“No, I should just deal with her myself. Go find your friends, have fun. I’ll see you later.” Rickie pulls her away through the crowd, but she looks back to see him watching her leave. She turns her attention back to Rickie, but smiles softly. They reach the bathroom and enter, where Rayanne is throwing up forcefully. Rickie leans over her and pulls her hair back.
“Can you just stay with her? Make sure she stays over the toilet and have her drink some water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Rickie moves towards the door as Angela imitates his earlier actions, pulling her tiny braids away from her face. Suddenly, Rayanne seems to gain more conscious thought, twisting her head around and glaring at Angela. She flushes the toilet and wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand.
“Don’t touch me. I’m fine. Just leave me alone.” Angela, surprised and confused, just looks at her, open-mouthed as Rayanne pulls at her clothes clumsily in a failed attempt to straighten them out.
“God! I was just trying to help,” she says, then softens her voice. “Here, do you want some water?” She picks up a glass already full and tries to hand it to Rayanne. Rayanne simply glares deeper.
“I don’t need help. I don’t need anything. Especially from you.”
“What are you saying?” Angela’s voice and face distort in anguish.
“Oh, Ang-ela. You’re a smart girl, you can figure out, can’t you? You’re so perfect. You think you’re so much better than me. Well, I don’t need Little Miss Perfect,” she said it so deliberately that each word cut Angela to the bone.
“Why are you saying this, doing this?” Angela pleads. “I need you! I need you to not drink! I thought you were serious about this. You told me you’d quit drinking for real, and you just betrayed me. Again.” Rayanne visibly shrinks back at this, staring at Angela from her crumpled position on the bathroom floor. Angela just gazes back at her with equal intensity, the force of the combination of hurt and disappointment and adoration too much for her to say anymore. Rickie bursts through the door at this point, looking from Angela to Rayanne and back again. He pulls Rayanne to her feet and slides her arm around his neck.
“We’ve gotta go. Tino’s waiting out front and if I don’t get home soon, Mr. Katimski will have a conniption. Look, whatever she said… she didn’t mean it. She’s just drunk, don’t worry about it,” he laid a hand on her forearm in comfort as he shifted Rayanne’s body against him. “You coming?” She shakes her head.
“No, I…I just can’t be near her right now.” Rickie nods, understanding her decision, but sad about it, both for Angela and himself.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek in farewell.
“Rickie… Rickie baby, let’s go. I’m tired,” Rayanne pleads, collapsed alongside Rickie’s body. She giggles and hiccups “See? Just like old times.” Rickie looks Angela apologetically one last time as he pulls Rayanne out of the house. Angela shuts the bathroom and leans against it momentarily. She goes to the sink and splashes water on her face. She gazes at herself in the mirror, her makeup smeared but reparable, her eyes still dark with anger. Slowly, she fixes her makeup and prepares herself to go back to the party. She opens the door, intent on finding Jordan for a ride home, or just to cheer herself up. She weaves her way through the hoards, making her way back to where she had seen him last. When she finds him, he is leaning in a similar position, with a pretty, curvy blonde girl smiling up at him in her place. She is flirting with him obviously, fingering the bottom of his jacket and laughing at something he says. Angela takes a deep breath as she sees him smiling back at the blonde and spins around quickly. She knocks into a guy carrying a beer, which tips over and pours all over her chest. She only sighs resignedly, and hurries back to the refuge of bathroom.
She tries to wet her dress in the sink, but to no avail. The last thing she needs is to walk home, smelling like beer. She braces herself against the sink, once again staring at herself in the mirror. She hears a sharp knock against the bathroom door and opens it quickly, annoyed and expecting (maybe hoping) Jordan will be there. Instead, it is the guy who spilled beer all over her. He smiles sheepishly.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize and, you know, take the opportunity to introduce myself. It’s not everyday I get to make a fool of myself in front of a beautiful girl. I’m Chris.” Angela just looks at him, surprised and flattered. She studied his face, his body, carefully. He wasn’t strikingly handsome at first glance, but he wasn’t plain either. He was tall, taller than Jordan, but had a lanky quality to him. He had blonde hair, cut just short of his ears, warm brown eyes, and a single dimple on the right side of his smile.
“Angela,” she replied warily.
“It’s nice to meet you, Angela. Can I get you a drink? I seem to have misplaced mine.” She smiles at him and nods as he takes her hand and leads her through the crowd. Do not look at Jordan Catalano. Do not look at Jordan Catalano. She tries to casually glance at Jordan and sees him talking to the same girl, though this time he notices her in return. He looks concerned and makes a small gesture as if to leave, to follow her, but Angela just turns away from his stare, following Chris into the kitchen where the keg is situated. She hides a small smile at Jordan’s reaction and accepts the beer Chris has poured for her. They relocate to a couch in the living room, in plain view of Jordan and the unnamed blonde. She refuses to look behind her at them though, and instead focuses her attention on Chris, smiling as he talks to and flirts with her. Okay, I admit, at first I was only talking to him because of Jordan. But now, he’s funny, and good-looking, and very charming. And I need to get over Jordan Catalano. I mean, he’s obviously over me.
I used to dread going to school, suffering through long classes and navigating the halls. My only refuge was coming home after school to my dad making me a snack. Now I dread coming home. Even before Dad left, towards the end, he was barely here. Now that he doesn’t live with us, and he has the restaurant to worry about, we only see him every two weeks. I remember the night he left, though, so clearly.
Angela closes the front door gently so as not to disturb the quiet, darkened house. She leans against the door, smiling, and turns towards the kitchen. Started, she looks at Patty, whose body is turned directly towards the refrigerator, her palms and forehead lying flat against the vertical surface, shoulders bent forward heavily, as if the triangle connecting her to the fridge is the only thing keeping her upright. Slowly, she turns towards Angela. It is clear that she has been crying: her eyes are puffy, cheeks pale and tear-stained in the moonlight flooding from the window, and her mouth curled into a frown too depressed to be surprised at Angela’s entrance. Angela goes to her, pulls her into a tight hug as Patty collapses against her, arms falling onto Angela’s shoulders awkwardly as she relaxes into the embrace.
Dad moved in with my uncle Neil a month and a half ago. Mom’s never talked about it with me, but I know it was because of his business partner, Hallie Lowenthal. They’re not divorced yet, or anything, but I can’t help feeling it’s just a matter of time. And that when it finally happens, she’ll just break. She tries to stay strong, but she’s working too many hours and everyone can tell she’s not okay. The only good thing to come out of this whole thing is that we’re actually a lot closer.
“So… do you wanna go somewhere?” Jordan asks, peering at Angela from underneath some of his shoulder-length hair, left hand draped over the steering wheel casually.
“Anywhere,” Angela replies, smiling. He grins back at her.
“I’m kinda hungry. You want something to eat?” he questions. She smiles, nods, and tucks her stray hair behind her ear.
They sit across from each other in the booth of a pizza place, eating and laughing. He is twisting his ring around his finger compulsively, and she reaches out a hand to stop it. She leaves her fingers lying on top of his. His eyes scan from where their hands meet up towards her face and look into her eyes kindly. “So, Tino’s having this party on Friday. Do you wanna go?” he asks softly. She gives him a surprised but delighted smile.
“Oh! Yeah. That sounds good,” she says, then pauses, frowning slightly. Is he asking me, like on a date? No, no, it can’t be a date. Why am I still trying to turn every little thing he says into something bigger? “I mean, I’ll have to see what I’m doing, but yeah. That could be fun.” Jordan looks wounded then carefully hides his disappointment at her response by looking down for a moment. He slowly withdraws his fingers and sets them on the edge of the table, tapping a little bit.
“Yeah, I mean, I might check it out. But you should come. With your friends. Maybe I’ll see you there or something.” Angela too appears hurt, but masks her sorrow by shyly smiling at him. “I should get you back, right?” Another weird thing? My mom and Jordan had like, created this, this bond. They like, talked. About stuff. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea.
Angela exits Jordan’s car and turns to wave to the disappearing form halfway up the path to her front door. She enters her house and is immediately bombarded by a bouncing Danielle. “Is he your boyfriend?” She asks, whining slightly.
“No! No. I don’t know,” she admits. She fidgets with the sleeve of her flannel shirt and glances at the floor.
“Well, Mom says you spend an awful lot of time with him for someone who’s not your boyfriend. Ryan says you guys are probably doing it.”
“Danielle!” Patty swoops in, throwing an arm around Danielle’s shoulders as a gesture of both love and irritation. Angela simply glares at both of them. “I was just telling Camille that I thought it was good that the two of you are still friends. And, you’re not… you know… are you?” She smiles, tightly, worried.
“Mom! God! How can you even ask me that?” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll be in my room.” It’s weird, though, to think about. I always thought I’d lose my virginity to Jordan, and sometimes I still think maybe I will. But now that we’re not, like, together… I just can’t picture it happening. At this point, I am just like, embarrassingly far from anything.
Rickie and Angela walk down the hallway, talking excitedly. Rayanne jogs to catch up them. She walks backwards, facing them, as she talks. “Okay, tonight! The three of us are going out! Just like old times. Tino’s having a party and it’s gonna be so awesome! We are gonna have so much fun.” Angela and Rickie look at each other, smiling awkwardly.
“Actually, we were just talking about that,” Rickie replies. Rayanne looks shocked and a little disheartened. “Jordan invited her. But you are so coming with.”
“Coming with, yeah…”
Angela, Rayanne, and Rickie enter through the front door of Tino’s house. Rayanne is dressed extravagantly, with her hair up in countless braids with a ribbon tying it all together, eyes painted in bluish eye shadow and lips stained a dark red. Angela is slightly dressed up in a black dress and has heavier makeup than usual. Though their styles are completely different, they both look beautiful. Rayanne, immediately seeing someone she knows, deserts them at the front door. There are people crowding in every direction, but Angela scans the masses until she sees Jordan among a group of guys. He is facing her, not really participating in the conversation around him. She smiles at him and does a little wave. He nods up at her and pushes off the wall he has been leaning on, cutting through the group to meet her. Rickie, looking distracted, quickly excuses himself just as Jordan arrives to greet them.
“Hey,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Hey. You made it. You want something to drink?” She shakes her head in response. He puts a palm to the small of her back and guides her out of the doorway as more people come in. She leans back against the wall, looking up at his figure looming over her. The left side of his body is pressed against the wall with his arm leaning by her head. His right hand is in his jacket pocket, fidgeting with something inside.
Rickie rushes over to where Angela and Jordan are standing in the living room. He tries to make eye contact with Angela, but failing, reaches out to touch Angela’s arm. She starts, but then sees the look on Rickie’s face, full of worry. “I need your help, just for a few minutes. It’s Rayanne. Tino said he’d drive us home, but I have to go find him first.” Angela bites her lip in distress and looks up at Jordan regretfully. Rickie anxiously waits during their interaction.
“Do you need any help?” Jordan implores hopefully.
“No, I should just deal with her myself. Go find your friends, have fun. I’ll see you later.” Rickie pulls her away through the crowd, but she looks back to see him watching her leave. She turns her attention back to Rickie, but smiles softly. They reach the bathroom and enter, where Rayanne is throwing up forcefully. Rickie leans over her and pulls her hair back.
“Can you just stay with her? Make sure she stays over the toilet and have her drink some water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Rickie moves towards the door as Angela imitates his earlier actions, pulling her tiny braids away from her face. Suddenly, Rayanne seems to gain more conscious thought, twisting her head around and glaring at Angela. She flushes the toilet and wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand.
“Don’t touch me. I’m fine. Just leave me alone.” Angela, surprised and confused, just looks at her, open-mouthed as Rayanne pulls at her clothes clumsily in a failed attempt to straighten them out.
“God! I was just trying to help,” she says, then softens her voice. “Here, do you want some water?” She picks up a glass already full and tries to hand it to Rayanne. Rayanne simply glares deeper.
“I don’t need help. I don’t need anything. Especially from you.”
“What are you saying?” Angela’s voice and face distort in anguish.
“Oh, Ang-ela. You’re a smart girl, you can figure out, can’t you? You’re so perfect. You think you’re so much better than me. Well, I don’t need Little Miss Perfect,” she said it so deliberately that each word cut Angela to the bone.
“Why are you saying this, doing this?” Angela pleads. “I need you! I need you to not drink! I thought you were serious about this. You told me you’d quit drinking for real, and you just betrayed me. Again.” Rayanne visibly shrinks back at this, staring at Angela from her crumpled position on the bathroom floor. Angela just gazes back at her with equal intensity, the force of the combination of hurt and disappointment and adoration too much for her to say anymore. Rickie bursts through the door at this point, looking from Angela to Rayanne and back again. He pulls Rayanne to her feet and slides her arm around his neck.
“We’ve gotta go. Tino’s waiting out front and if I don’t get home soon, Mr. Katimski will have a conniption. Look, whatever she said… she didn’t mean it. She’s just drunk, don’t worry about it,” he laid a hand on her forearm in comfort as he shifted Rayanne’s body against him. “You coming?” She shakes her head.
“No, I…I just can’t be near her right now.” Rickie nods, understanding her decision, but sad about it, both for Angela and himself.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek in farewell.
“Rickie… Rickie baby, let’s go. I’m tired,” Rayanne pleads, collapsed alongside Rickie’s body. She giggles and hiccups “See? Just like old times.” Rickie looks Angela apologetically one last time as he pulls Rayanne out of the house. Angela shuts the bathroom and leans against it momentarily. She goes to the sink and splashes water on her face. She gazes at herself in the mirror, her makeup smeared but reparable, her eyes still dark with anger. Slowly, she fixes her makeup and prepares herself to go back to the party. She opens the door, intent on finding Jordan for a ride home, or just to cheer herself up. She weaves her way through the hoards, making her way back to where she had seen him last. When she finds him, he is leaning in a similar position, with a pretty, curvy blonde girl smiling up at him in her place. She is flirting with him obviously, fingering the bottom of his jacket and laughing at something he says. Angela takes a deep breath as she sees him smiling back at the blonde and spins around quickly. She knocks into a guy carrying a beer, which tips over and pours all over her chest. She only sighs resignedly, and hurries back to the refuge of bathroom.
She tries to wet her dress in the sink, but to no avail. The last thing she needs is to walk home, smelling like beer. She braces herself against the sink, once again staring at herself in the mirror. She hears a sharp knock against the bathroom door and opens it quickly, annoyed and expecting (maybe hoping) Jordan will be there. Instead, it is the guy who spilled beer all over her. He smiles sheepishly.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize and, you know, take the opportunity to introduce myself. It’s not everyday I get to make a fool of myself in front of a beautiful girl. I’m Chris.” Angela just looks at him, surprised and flattered. She studied his face, his body, carefully. He wasn’t strikingly handsome at first glance, but he wasn’t plain either. He was tall, taller than Jordan, but had a lanky quality to him. He had blonde hair, cut just short of his ears, warm brown eyes, and a single dimple on the right side of his smile.
“Angela,” she replied warily.
“It’s nice to meet you, Angela. Can I get you a drink? I seem to have misplaced mine.” She smiles at him and nods as he takes her hand and leads her through the crowd. Do not look at Jordan Catalano. Do not look at Jordan Catalano. She tries to casually glance at Jordan and sees him talking to the same girl, though this time he notices her in return. He looks concerned and makes a small gesture as if to leave, to follow her, but Angela just turns away from his stare, following Chris into the kitchen where the keg is situated. She hides a small smile at Jordan’s reaction and accepts the beer Chris has poured for her. They relocate to a couch in the living room, in plain view of Jordan and the unnamed blonde. She refuses to look behind her at them though, and instead focuses her attention on Chris, smiling as he talks to and flirts with her. Okay, I admit, at first I was only talking to him because of Jordan. But now, he’s funny, and good-looking, and very charming. And I need to get over Jordan Catalano. I mean, he’s obviously over me.