Every Other Weekend

by Abigail Johnson

  Jolene grinned at me. “You are three seconds from breaking out in hives.” Then she laughed “Don’t worry. You’ll be back in time to hug all your teachers goodbye before school ends.”

  I side-eyed her. “Part of you thinks I do that.”

  “All of me knows you do that.”

  I laughed and tried to force my attention away from Jolene. I was relieved to see that the happy couple were no longer eating each other’s faces.

  “So what are we doing on this beautiful day?” Jolene asked in an overly bright voice, and I noticed that while she seemed to be addressing the whole car, she was looking at Cherry. I also noticed that she was twisting the hem of her skirt, a gesture at odds with her easy tone.

  In a low voice, one so low I almost didn’t hear it, Cherry said to Meneik, “We could all hang out for a little bit, couldn’t we? Just a little bit?”

  From my view in the back seat, I saw Jolene’s grip on her skirt twist tighter as she watched Meneik’s reaction.

  His jaw locked and he flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t so much as glance at Cherry. “Your mom’s been getting to you.”

  “No,” she said, and I picked up a note of panic from her. “That’s not—”

  “That’s what it sounds like.” Meneik’s voice stayed flat and cold. “She won’t let me come around your house, and the one time I get you to myself, you want to go off with your friends. We drop them off somewhere and you get an alibi this weekend. That was the deal. I should have known you’d try to pull something like this on me.”

  “Meneik...” She reached for his arm but he pulled it away. A heartbeat later, her seat belt was unlocked and she was practically in his lap, telling him that she wanted to be with him, no one else, and she was sorry. She had to repeat her apology so many times that I started to feel ill. When I glanced at Jolene, she had turned to stare resolutely out the window, the hem of her skirt wrinkled but no longer caught in her tortured grip.

  A few minutes later, Cherry and Meneik dropped us off outside a strip mall, and I couldn’t say I was sorry to see them go. Cherry had made sure every ounce of her attention was focused on Meneik when we got out of the car, even though he remained stiff and indifferent toward her. It was messed up, and Jolene obviously didn’t like seeing her friend endlessly apologize for no reason that I could see.

  “Hey,” I said, drawing Jolene’s attention away from Meneik’s fading taillights. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Her gaze was weary when it lifted to mine. “Yeah, well, she’s the one who wanted a boyfriend.”

  I started to laugh like she’d made a joke, but Jolene didn’t smile. Mine quickly died. “Okayyy, but that doesn’t mean she should be treated like that. No girl should.”

  Jolene shrugged and started to turn away. I caught her arm lightly so that she’d turn back.

  “That’s not—” I broke off, gesturing in the direction Cherry and Meneik had gone “—the way it should be. Ever.” I felt my face heating along with my voice, because the bland expression on Jolene’s face told me that she didn’t believe me. I started to open my mouth again but snapped it shut, thinking of all the stellar examples of relationships in her life and how they’d probably played a role in the cynical view she held.

  “Look, it’s just not, okay? I mean, do you honestly think I’d treat a girl that way? Make her—” I was so disgusted by the scene in the car that I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “Erica,” Jolene said.

  I frowned.

  “Her name is Erica. You said ‘a girl,’ but you have a girlfriend, so the question you should have asked is, do I think you’d ever treat Erica that way.”

  My face was now blazing for a different reason, because I’d forgotten about Erica. Again. “Fine, okay, Erica then.” I half expected her to study me for a moment, as though she had to consider the question, but she answered without even blinking.

  “No, you never would, but you’re strange and special and there are more guys like Meneik than there are guys like you, so.” She shrugged again.

  “Strange and special?” I said, thinking that if there was supposed to be a compliment there I couldn’t find it.

  “You know what I mean.”

  I wasn’t sure I did, but I also wasn’t going to stand there and force her to say things about me that she didn’t want to on her own.

  She spared one last glance after her friend and sighed. “I just hate that he’s like that to her.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  Then she visibly shook herself. “Okay, I really don’t want to think about them all day. This was supposed to be fun. Ferris Bueller fun. So what are we going to do on this beautiful day?”

  I just wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t outside. Jolene wanted ice cream. We both won.

  She slipped her chilled hand into mine to tug me down the street, and even though she let go the second I started moving, the heat that somehow suffused my entire body stayed with me.

  The ice-cream parlor was empty when we entered. It smelled like vanilla and waffle cones, and Jolene drew in a breath so deep that she practically levitated.

  “How can you want ice cream right now?” Her hand had been so cold that I’d made a crack about checking for frostbite.

  She shrugged and ordered from the sleepy-looking guy behind the counter. When he turned his half-lidded eyes to me, I shook my head. After he handed Jolene her cone—and it was covered in so many toppings you couldn’t even tell there was ice cream underneath—we found a table and sat down. Me to thaw and Jolene to snake gummy bears off her cone with her tongue.

  I thawed out very quickly.

  I was worried my staring would become creepy in another second, so I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I read your essay.”

  Jolene paused in the act of biting the head off a gummy bear but said nothing. Even when she finished decapitating the bear, I could see the tension holding the rest of her stock-still.

  “Jo, it’s really good.”

  She didn’t relax. If anything, she grew more tense.

  I usually felt like I was getting only half the story with Jolene. That she was deflecting with her biting humor and brash demeanor. Sometimes she’d let me see more, but not often. Her essay though... It was Jolene stripped raw.

  And it was really good.

  If I wasn’t half in love with her before I read it, I was after.

  Except there was no half anything with Jolene.

  I really needed to talk to Erica. Whether or not I ever had more than friendship with Jolene, I had no business having a girlfriend when I felt this way about someone else.

  Jolene looked tense enough to snap, so I knew I had to come at things in a different way than straight compliments. They always made her uncomfortable, unless she was paying them to herself.

  “I couldn’t really tell at home but—” I leaned across the table and brought my face close to hers “—did I get all the blood out of my eyes?”

  A relieved smile relaxed her face and body. “I’m always so sweet to you, and yet you say stuff like that to me.”

  I leaned closer and angled my head. “Right in the left tear duct. That one gushed when I read the last paragraph.”

  Jolene smushed her ice-cream cone in my nose.

  I licked at a gummy bear that started to slide down my cheek. “Yeah, you’re a sweetheart.”

  It was cold, but she was laughing, and I’d been the one to make her laugh.

  “Really though,” she said a few minutes later, leaning toward me and scrutinizing a place on my jaw that she’d wiped clean with a napkin. “You didn’t hate it?”

  I stilled her hand with my own. There were a few sentences that could be smoothed out, and her opening paragraph was a little scattered, but the heart of her essay—Jolene’s heart—beat beautiful
ly through the whole thing.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She gave me a funny look and sat back. “Will you help me though, just a little? I need the film program people not to hate it either.”

  We spent the next hour going over it on her phone. I made a few suggestions, but I’d meant what I’d said: it was good already.

  * * *

  Somehow, Jolene wasn’t frozen after all the ice cream she’d eaten, but that didn’t stop her from shivering in her uniform the second we walked outside. Neither of us were dressed for spending extended time in the cold, but I gave her my jacket and stoically tried to keep my teeth from chattering while she filmed the snowflakes that floated down around us as we walked. She filmed me, too, and when I asked her if she was ever going to tell me about the movie I was kind of starring in, she smiled and shook her head.

  “I had this idea for...something. I’m not sure yet but, I think...” She lifted her camera back to her eye and backed away from me, stepping off the curb and into the side of a parked car. She gasped and then lifted her foot from the several inches of icy slush it had sunk into and laughed. “And impossibly, I’m colder than I was a second ago.”

  After that she let me talk her into going back inside a heated building, a diner where we drank hot chocolate while we waited for Cherry and Meneik to pick us up. The afternoon ended up being less Ferris Bueller and more whatever movie has the cast wandering around my small, sleepy town and narrowly avoiding frostbite.

  It was one of the best days of my life.

  Jolene

  Tom was at the house to pick up Mom when I got home from my ditch day with Adam, and when he greeted me with a “there’s my girl,” I nearly spun on my heel and headed right back out.

  Tom tended to leer in a way he thought was charming to women of all ages. I tended to throw up in my mouth each time. We’d spoken a handful of times, all at different levels of awkward, because he almost always tried to turn the conversation around to money: my mom didn’t have enough and my dad had too much. How easy it would be for me to help balance things if I would only poke around. And sure enough, he wasted no time that day.

  “I’d wager you’re looking forward to spending some time with your dad next weekend.”

  “Then I hope you’re not a betting man, Tom.” I walked past him to the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the crisper, lamenting the fact that I’d finished off the fried, syrupy spiral jalebi that Mrs. Cho had made me the day before. (I’d suggested The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Slumdog Millionaire for her to watch last week and she’d been trying out Indian desserts on me ever since.)

  “You know, we’ve never really talked.”

  “Nice, isn’t it?”

  Tom chuckled. It was hella creepy. “Guess I’m gonna have to stay on my toes around you.”

  I bit my apple.

  “Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Are you white meat or dark meat when it comes to turkey?”

  I chewed my apple.

  “Hey,” Tom said, raising his faux-tan-stained palms. “Look, I get it. I’m your mom’s boyfriend. It’s awkward. I remember how rough it was splitting holidays between my parents but I want you to know that I will never try to replace your dad.”

  “Thank you for saying that, Tom. You can’t understand what that means to me.”

  Tom inclined his head. “Sure thing.” Then he started to walk away before snapping his fingers as though some idea had just occurred to him. Yeah, right. “Hey, next time you’re at your dad’s, maybe keep an eye out for—” he gestured vaguely like he was coming up with all this from the top of his head “...I don’t know, bank accounts or financial statements. Snap a few pics and that’s it. It’d really help out.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and offered it to me.

  I looked at it and took another bite of my apple, chewing slowly.

  Tom’s mouth tightened. “Come on, Jolene. It’s time to be a team player. Your mom is getting stretched thin here, and we know your dad is hiding money. If he can afford to pay more to make sure you and your mom are taken care of, don’t you think he should?”

  “My mom is far from destitute, but if you want I’ll see if I can find any spare change in the couch cushions.” When I went to throw my apple in the trash, Tom grabbed my arm—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to keep me from leaving.

  “This isn’t a game. Your mom needs you, and we’re both a little tired of your unwillingness to help out. Next weekend, I want you to check his desk, take a few photos, and email them to me.” He forced the business card into my hand. “That’s not too hard for a smart girl like you, is it?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and let his card flutter to the floor. “Let’s talk smart, Tom. You picked the wrong woman if all you want is a payday. The reality is my mom’s never going to get a cent more from my dad, because he’d rather see it burn than share it with her. So, if you want his money so bad, get it yourself.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Tom backed away from me and forced a laugh. “That just got weirdly intense. I think I’m already craving that meal tomorrow and I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as though divulging a secret. “I can get a little hangry if I’m not careful. Let me guess, you, too?” He laughed again. “I, ah, better go grab something before I really put my foot in my mouth. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

  I didn’t reply as I went upstairs to my room. I’d told Adam I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than share a meal with my mom and her boyfriend. Clearly, I’d grossly underestimated. Scowling, I shut the door behind me, blocking out Tom, and then scowled harder. My bedroom had been featured in some magazine when I was twelve and was supposed to represent the perfect preteen girl’s room with light, airy colors and pale wood tones. Nothing overly feminine or youthful. Clean lines, soft fabrics, zero personality. Or I don’t know, someone’s personality but not mine. I didn’t see the point in hanging movie posters or switching the bedding to anything that wasn’t a sea-foam-green leaf print. It wasn’t my room any more than the place I slept over at my dad’s was. One day I’d have my own room, my own space. It’d be tacky and mismatched and I’d let the paint get chipped around the doors instead having the whole house repainted every year in the same colors.

  That would have felt nice.

  Releasing the doorknob, I moved to sit on the plush mattress and forced the earlier memories from the day to blot out the conversation I’d had with Tom. No sooner did Adam’s face fill my mind than my heart fluttered. He’d been so cute when he first saw me. And nervous. And then cuter still when he tried to downplay how nervous he was. I laughed in my quiet magazine-spread bedroom. The happy feeling faded before the sound did.

  He should have been nervous. He just spent an entire afternoon with his not-girfriend. I’d had to remind him about her. I had to do that more than I liked when we were together. Not that he forgot she existed but sometimes...it was like he let himself stop thinking about her when he was with me. And did that mean he let himself forget about me when he was with her? My stomach lurched and then lurched again. Was I even allowed to feel jealous? I flopped backward on the bed and one of the little peach throw pillows toppled over to rest against my cheek. The smooth satin felt cool and comforting and did nothing to settle the unease swirling inside me.

  It wasn’t all because of Adam, or even the distaste Tom left me with.

  Shifting off my right hip, I pulled my phone from my pocket and had to scroll way too far back to find the number I wanted. It rang and rang before...

  “Hey, you’re early. My mom’s not home yet and if she doesn’t see your name on the phone—” Cherry sighed “—actually she’ll probably want me to put you on speakerphone or she’ll think I’m lying again. I’ll text you when to call, okay?”

  “I wasn’t—I’m not calling about your alibi.”

  Cherry’s voice went so cold I s
hivered. “No. No way do you get to back out after we drove all that way to Adam’s school.”

  I rolled my eyes and willed my temper to stay in check. “I’m not reneging. I’ll tell your mom whatever you want.”

  There was a pause. “Okay. Good.” Another pause. “Then I’ll text you when to call.”

  It was my turn not to answer right away. I rolled my eyes but this time the gesture was directed at myself. It was like we’d forgotten how to talk to each other. “What did you think of him?”

  “Adam?” I could hear the eyebrow raise in her voice. “I don’t know. He’s cute, I guess. Blushes a lot.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. “Yeah, but it’s cute, right?” I scrunched up my nose waiting for her response. It didn’t come right away.

  “You want to know if I think the guy with the girlfriend is cute when he blushes?”

  It was like my mattress turned into a waterbed sloshing underneath me and a queasy, seasick feeling surged over me again. “At least he doesn’t berate me for wanting to hang out with my friends.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s ’cause he can’t tell anyone when he’s with you. He has to lie to his girlfriend so she won’t find out about you. So, yeah, Jo. He’s real cute.”

  I curled up on my side, hugging that satin pillow to my chest as my chin quivered once before I stopped it. “It’s not like that. We’re friends so there’s nothing to tell.”

  “Then why do you care if he’s cute? Why do you care if I think he’s cute?”

  My voice went all raspy. “I just wanted to talk to you. Yeah, I wanted to see Adam, but I wanted to see you, too. We never get to hang out anymore.”

  “Please. You’re at my house all the time.”

  “Yeah, with Gabe and the band. Not you. We never talk and when we do, it’s you asking me to cover for you with Meneik.”

  “So I’m supposed to apologize for having a boyfriend when you don’t?”

  I shoved my pillow away and sat up. “Ehhh.” I made a game show–buzzer sound. “Try again.”