“Thanks,” I say taking the cup from him. Our fingers touch and he flinches away.
“Something wrong?” This can’t go ignored.
“No. Just tired from last night.” He gives me a tight smile that almost looks painful, and goes to get his own cup before sitting down at the table.
“Yeah, me too.” Things are a little tense, so I turn on some music, but keep the volume low so I don’t wake Hazel. “Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran comes on. I almost laugh at how ironic it is. Jett’s eyes aren’t green like the lyrics, but pretty much everything else is spot on. Creepy.
I hum along a little bit as I wait for the first set of penguin waffles to be done. Jett sips his coffee and seems lost in thought. I don’t want to bug him, so I get out the plates and so forth myself.
The waffles are done and I dish them out. Jett drenches his in syrup, but I’m a little more conservative than he is. I like to actually taste my waffles. We eat in silence, except for the music, and I almost can’t stand it. I’m trying to think of something to say to start a neutral conversation, but I’m coming up empty. Jett ends the silence for me.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” He’s looking into his coffee, and swirling his fork in the leftover syrup.
“Are you going to safe word?” My heart clenches in panic. I’ve only been this scared a few times in my life.
He opens his mouth and the closes it, then picks up his cup and takes a sip. Not knowing what to say, I just sit there and wait in terror. This can’t be happening.
Can your heart stop beating? I think mine does for just a moment.
Jett is looking at me and I can’t help but meet his eyes. They’re looking, searching, trying to find something in me. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I desperately want him to find it. My heart stops again before he says, “No. Nevermind.” And then I get a genuine smile.
My heart starts going at warp speed, like it’s trying to make up for the times it stopped.
“Do you want some more waffles?” I get up and take both our plates over. I hadn’t put any more batter in the iron in case he didn’t want any more.
“Yes, more penguins, please.” I want to release some of the tension, so I do a little penguin walk after I put the plates down. I’m rewarded with a whoop of laughter from Jett and then I hear a groan from Hazel’s room. Jett clamps his mouth shut and I stop acting like a penguin.
“Crap,” I whisper as Hazel emerges from her room.
The term “hot mess” was coined for the look she is currently rocking. Smeared mascara, crazy hair, clothes that she didn’t bother changing out of all askew, pillow mark on her cheek.
“You . . . suck . . .” she says slowly stumbling into the kitchen with her arms out, as if she’s begging for something. I quickly pour a cup of coffee and hand it to her. She stands over it, as a caveman must have stood over a fire when he first lit one. For a moment, she just breathes it in, and then she starts sipping.
“Better?” I say, going to the waffle iron and pouring in a second batch. I’m going to be making a lot more if Hazel wants some now.
She slumps down in the only other chair, so I’ll be forced to lean against the counter. Or I would have, but Jett gets up and motions to the chair.
“I have to deal with the waffles. It’s fine.” He sits down again and Hazel is still enthralled with her coffee. It’ll take at least one more cup for her to be human. And then she’ll probably still go back to bed for a few hours to sleep the rest of her hangover off.
“You know, I think we need to get you a chair,” I say as Jett drowns his penguin pancakes in more syrup.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but I’m not making him stand every time he comes over.
We finish the rest of the waffles and Hazel goes back to bed. Since I’m destitute from buying Jett food, and splurging on the pajamas, we go to the local thrift store to get Jett a chair, despite his protests. As a compromise, he drives.
“Okay, so since you’re the one who’s going to do most of the sitting in it, I think you should get to choose.” I make Jett wait while I assemble the three candidates for him to judge.
“Here, we have chair number one. It is a lovely . . . mahogany chair with lots of . . . chair-like features. Plus, it has four legs, so you don’t fall over.” I present it to him with a flourish of my arm.
“Well, that is a stunning prospect,” he says, clapping.
“And here we have chair number two. It is from the early . . . psychedelic period and is pre-rusted for added style.” He takes in the second chair and claps again.
“Another solid choice. This isn’t going to be easy,” he says.
“Oh, but wait. There is one more choice.” I present the third chair. “This little beauty comes all the way to you from the exotic location of Topeka, Kansas and features a lovely finish, that has been delicately chipped to give it that rustic feel.” In case you couldn’t tell, the third chair is my favorite. It will go best with the other two we already have, and it’s the least beat-up of the three.
“Well, these are all solid choices.” Jett walks up and down in front of the chairs. “You make very good points on all of them.” He taps his chin, thinking.
“But I think I’m going to choose chair number three.” He puts his hands on it and this time I clap.
“Good. That was the one I was hoping you’d pick.”
“Yes, your hints were very subtle.”
“Well, what are you doing? Try it out. You can’t really pick it unless you sit in it.” He agrees and sits down, sighing.
“Yup. This is the one.” I decide that he can’t really try it out without me, so I sit on his lap.
“Perfect. I like this chair.” I lean down and give him a kiss.
“Me too.” I hear a woman sigh about “young love” not that far away from us. Yeah, I’m sure we’re disgusting. I wouldn’t be able to stand me either.
After picking the chair, we go through the rest of the store, picking out the weirdest and wackiest items. Jett forces me into the ugliest sweater ever born from a knitting machine. It’s dingy army green with orange balls on it, and a giant ugly cat face on the back. I force him into an equally ugly sweater that looks like one Bill Cosby might have worn if he was on acid. We take pictures on our phones, and actually end up buying them for potential Ugly Sweater parties that people are always having.
Jett also talks me into buying a ceramic cup that is shaped like a bear that’s running. It doesn’t sound bad, but it’s poorly painted, and the eyes are so big and crooked, it’s cross-eyed.
“Don’t you feel bad for him? He’s just sitting here with no one to wuv him,” Jett says, picking up the bear and pouting. He could get me to do anything with that pout. Anything.
In retaliation, I make him get an umbrella stand with pigs frolicking in mud puddles on it.
“Everyone needs an umbrella stand. You know the saying.”
“What saying?”
“That everyone needs an umbrella stand.” He shakes his head, but buys it anyway. Before we can spend any more money we don’t have on anything else we don’t need, Jett gets the sweaters and the stand, and I get the chair and the bear mug and we pay at the counter.
Wedging the chair into his car is interesting, but we finally get it. Jett’s smiling as we shut the back.
“What is it?” I say.
“Nothing. I’m just . . . happy.”
“Me too.”
“You make me happy.”
“Same here.”
Something in my stomach drops, and it’s a bit like fear. But I’m not scared. I’m telling the truth about the happy part. I haven’t laughed so much, or been so . . . free since I can’t remember when. That probably isn’t a good thing.
I try to ignore it as Jett turns on the radio, looking for a good station. He finally settles on the “we play pretty much everything” station that’s currently playing “Punk Rock Princess” by Some
thing Corporate and pulls out of the parking lot. I adore this song, and it seems Jett does too, since he’s tapping the steering wheel to the beat.
Once we get back to my apartment, Jett carries the chair in and I find a spot for the bear mug. I can’t wait to hear Hazel’s reaction. She’s probably going to tell me to get rid of it. She has this weird fear of inanimate objects that are made to look like real things. As in, she’s terrified of dolls. Like they’re going to come alive and kill her while she’s sleeping or something. Yeah, I know, but we all have our quirks.
Jett sets the chair down and then sits in it.
“Perfect.”
I grab some of the hundreds of pens we have just lying around and throw them into the bear mug. Hopefully it won’t freak Hazel out too much.
“Ugh, I have homework to do,” I say. I still have some studying to do for my test.
“Homework is lame,” he says, patting his lap. I sit down and he puts his arm around me. I used to be concerned that I was going to break him by sitting on him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“I agree. But it has to be done.” He sighs and buries his head into my shoulder.
“I should probably go home and check on Javier. Make sure he made it to bed and didn’t pass out on the hood of a car in the driveway.” I almost pout when I realize that we’re going to be separated, but I pull it back.
“So I’ll see you tonight?” I say, pretending that it’s no big deal that I’m going to be without him for a few hours. Really, it shouldn’t be a big deal. I can function without him. I just . . . don’t want to.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
“I’ll text you before I come over. I’ll bring pizza.” He gives me a quick kiss and I want more, but I pull back and let him go.
As Jett predicted, I get a 94 on my test the next week, and after only being in the kitchen with the bear mug for an hour, Hazel makes me put it in a cupboard and promise to never bring it out at night. She’s been having a rough time, and when she gets back from class one day, she looks so exhausted that I can’t help but notice.
“Can I get you some coffee?” She drops her bag by the door and slumps down in a chair, lying on the table and smashing her head down.
“Remind me why I wanted to be a lawyer?” I push a cup of steaming coffee at her and she lifts her head.
“Because you look fabulous in a pencil skirt and you like telling people what to do.” She gives me a look and sips the coffee, sighing in pleasure.
“Both of those things may be true, but they’re not the only reason. I’m just so fucking tired that I don’t remember what it was like to not be tired.” She’s treated me not so great lately, but she was there for me when no one else was, and nothing can change that. And I can control how I treat her. Kill her with kindness.
“Drink. Then I’m making you dinner and we’re watching a movie. You pick. I will rub your feet and you can tell me about anything you want to tell me about and I will not bring up the guy I’m seeing or anything related to it. This is a penis-free evening.” Hazel finally cracks a smile and drains the rest of the coffee.
“Thanks, Shan.” She gets up and gives me a hug. “You’re the best.”
“So I feel like I’m surrounded by morons. They seriously just don’t care. I doubt they’ll ever pass the Bar. Probably just using Daddy’s money to kill some time before they get shoved into the family business. Ugh. I hate people.” She takes her right foot out of my hands and gives me her left. I squirt some more moisturizer on my hands and start rubbing. Some people have issues with feet, but I’m not one of those people.
“Most of them are pretty terrible.”
“Yeah, sometimes good people can be terrible, though,” I say, giving her a look.
“Sometimes they can.”
Hazel finishes the bowl of chili I made for her and sets it down on the coffee table as Anchorman plays in the background. She lights a cigarette, promising me it’s “just one to take the edge off.” It’s her night, so I let it go. I also don’t ask her if she knew anything about the girls confronting me about Jett. That conversation never happened.
“I really need to have sex,” she says out of the blue. “You having sex all the time is making me want to have it all the time.” Right. Because I’m having sex all the time.
“Is this a hint for me to buy you a vibrator? I am not letting you borrow mine. We are close, but we are NOT that close.” That’s just nasty.
“No, I am not asking to borrow your vibrator. Plastic doesn’t do it for me. I need a hot, sweaty man. Just some guy to grab me and have his way with me. Some good old-fashioned animalistic fucking. You know?” Yeah, because I’m doing that all the time.
“Why don’t you just go pick someone up at the bar?” If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for her.
“I’ve done that. A lot of the guys are too drunk to perform, or just bad at it. I want a man to satisfy me. Someone who knows the art of lovemaking and how to push all the right buttons. I guess Jett knows all your buttons by now.” She kind of glares at me when she says the last part.
“Yeah, he’s good.” I manage to make it sound both secretive and dreamy, as if I just don’t want to share any details because it would ruin it. “But I’m not talking about him. This is supposed to be penis free.”
“I can’t help it. I need some penis in my life. Although, this is really nice. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Who knew when I took your keys and told you to get laid you’d find a guy like Jett? I’m really happy for you, Shan. He seems like one of the good ones, but I’m so sorry about the way you met him.”
“He is one of the good ones.” She has no idea. I let the other comment go.
“I want to find one like him. With more meat.” Oh, here we go with the meat talk again.
“I’ll be on the lookout.”
“What about Jett’s roommate? Javier. Gah, I just love saying his name. It sounds so sexy when you say it. Javier. Javier.” I give her a look. She can go ahead and hook up with whomever she wants to, but I would advise her to stay away from Javier, despite his sexy name. Boys like him are nothing but trouble. I don’t need to have any dating experience to know this. Boys like Javier come into your life, tear it apart and then leave as quickly as they arrive, and all you’re left with is broken pieces. Or at least that’s what I can surmise based on my interactions with him so far.
He reminds me a bit of my brother, and I remember what he used to do to his girlfriends. They were destroyed afterwards. Not saying that Javier is a bad guy. It’s just who he is. A human wrecking ball.
“He’s a possibility,” she says, sighing. “But I think I’m going to be more selective this time. I’ve been burned too many times in the past.” Isn’t that the truth? Last year there had been a parade of guys in and out of our apartment. One night I even saw one guy come in and a completely different guy leave in the morning. I’m still trying to figure that out.
“That’s probably a good plan.” We start talking about other things, and pretty soon Hazel is asleep. I extricate myself from under her, cover her with a blanket and go and do the dishes. God, I hope she stays away from Javier.
“Did you miss me?” I ask like a needy, clingy girlfriend when we’re in bed that night. Jett chuckles.
“Just a little. Javier isn’t nearly as pretty as you are, and his hair isn’t as nice.” Well, that is true on both counts.
I tell him about Hazel.
“Well, she’s not the only one who’s interested. He’s been asking me about her as well. But the thing about Javi is that his attention span is pretty damn short. About as long as it takes for him to get off, and then he’s looking for the next one.”
“That’s kind of disgusting,” I say as Jett strokes my hair.
He sighs.
“I know it’s not the best way to live, but he’s not a bad guy, really. He’s done a lot for me, and I don’t know where I’d be without him. He was my only friend for a while when I di
dn’t have anyone else, and I feel like I’ll always owe him for that, so I stick by his side. His softer side he keeps pretty well hidden. His persona is very important to him.” Big shock.
“Do you have to work tomorrow?” Jett just started a job working in the cafeteria. Apparently website design is not paying enough for him to put himself through school.
I’ve never asked about his family, other than that first time when he showed me his sister’s picture. I can only assume from the fact that he doesn’t talk about his parents, that they’re dead. Probably some tragic accident. It makes me so sad I can’t even think, and I want him to share it with me so I can hold him and care for him. But he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to push him. It’s not really my business. I’m only his Fake Girlfriend. Not his real one.
But I want to ask him something personal, so I choose something else.
“What do your tattoos mean?” I stroke the tail of the red dragon on his arm. It’s been killing me not to know about them, but I don’t want to pry.
“They mean a lot of things, and I’m not sure if I can really put into words what they mean, specifically. My body is mine and I can do what I want with it. So I choose to cover it with ink and dragons and all sorts of things. Does that make sense?”
Yeah. Yeah, it does.
“Can I see them?” I’m not asking to see him naked, but it almost seems like I am. Jett looks at me for the longest moment ever and then lets me go, sitting up so he can pull his shirt over his head. I almost hear a drumroll in my brain before he sets the shirt down and turns so I can stare at him. I lean back so I can get the full effect.
Breathtaking. He’s breathtaking. My breath has been taken, and I don’t know how to get it back.
The red dragon covers almost his entire chest, curling around on itself, all claws and fiery scales. The swirling water starts behind the dragon on the left side of his shoulder and then covers the rest of his arm. My eyes follow the rest of the waves, finally landing on the little boat that’s bobbing in that restless sea. Tentatively, I reach one finger out and trace it, tossing about in the chaos, and I understand what it means, even without him having to tell me.
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