by F N Manning
Our parting had been messy, complicated, and painful, all things I hated. From the looks of it, we didn’t have much in common anymore. Maybe that made it okay. We’d both grown up, so we could have some fun together and put the rest behind us. I didn’t let myself think too closely about ‘the rest’ and all those unpleasant things I didn’t like dealing with.
Except then I walked in on him being superior and arrogant, being everything I hated about rich people. He was the perfect cliché of everything that infuriates me in the prettiest package. He threatened some other pretentious toolbag about college and wasn’t that just perfect? There wasn’t even honor among pretentious toolbags. I couldn’t stop the memories then. I remembered how Cal had been the one to break some terrible news to me, and I wanted to get even. It wasn’t horny fate that brought us together but karma. Justice. Okay, a warped form of justice maybe, but still justice.
All that glittered wasn’t gold. Pretty faces could hide ugly truths, right?
I didn’t tell April about what I had done. I had a feeling she wouldn’t approve. I did take her out for ice cream after the first spelling club meeting. She didn’t have a meltdown about losing the match but was determined to get better, which meant she was ready to practice as soon as we got home.
I’d warned her that it was easy to have no life when preparing for a bee but hadn’t realized I would have no life too. “Are you sure it’s not your bedtime?” I questioned.
It was seven o’clock. She didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead she yelled, “Mom, Max isn’t being supportive!”
“Be supportive,” my mother scolded, “or I’ll go out with your friend Joey.”
“That’s great parenting,” I told her while April laughed. My friends and family thankfully didn’t interact much, but Joey always asked her out whenever they met. Because she was insane instead of a normal mother, she threatened me with saying yes if I didn’t behave.
April and I sat at the dinner table while Mom made dinner in the kitchen. There wasn’t really enough space for much in our apartment; it was more like a kitchen/dining room combo with a thin divider in between instead of two separate rooms.
I didn’t miss a big home with a well-manicured lawn. I hadn’t taken advantage of the latter even when I had it, allergic to the sun as I was back then. The trade-off didn’t happen by choice. In spelling bee terms, I knew what divorce was and how to use it in a sentence, that it came from the Latin word ‘dīvortium.’ It hadn’t applied to me until I discovered a new context for the word in the way the door slammed when my dad left the house for the last time or when mom started picking up extra shifts and it fell to me to watch April.
The old house had room, space to move. Maybe that was the problem. Mom and dad could live and exist in the same space without ever touching and now that was gone and so was dad. Close quarters meant I saw mom and April every day. We didn’t have much, but our home was generally warm, comfortable, and happy. We had each other. We didn’t need anyone else. Like my dad.
Dammit. This was the problem with dredging up the past. Cal was back and that meant thinking of the last time I saw him and everything that had been going on, even things that weren’t related to him like my parents’ marriage falling apart or dad leaving. Truthfully, I’d already been thinking about the past. Seeing Cal just made it worse. I wondered if mom would let me have a beer at dinner.
“I’m an amazing parent,” mom said a few minutes later as she sat dinner in front of us. “Look at this bountiful meal I prepared.” She gestured to the hamburger helper. That was about the length of her culinary skills, but she always made an effort when she worked days instead of nights.
She did her best, but I wasn’t exactly someone who bubbled over with strong emotions. I showed I cared through mocking, which was something I learned from her. “April, can you spell mediocre?” I asked.
“April, can you spell pain in the ass?” she shot back.
“Your words aren’t hard, Mom,” she complained but gamely recited the letters in mediocre.
“Okay smarty, spell ‘laryngomalacia,’” Mom challenged. “Or ‘balanoposthitis.’” She joked that she was the village idiot in our family, but it’s not like nursing was the easiest career in the world. Plus, it meant she knew insane words no one outside of the medical profession ever uttered, which were perfect spelling bee words.
“Try it,” I encouraged. “There’s a lot of medical jargon that ends up being the winning words like ‘stromuhr’ or ‘antipyretic.’”
“You are so lucky to have a mother who’s a nurse then,” she told April but looked at me with a smirk, broadcasting something along the lines of look at how smart you are. I remembered a few winning words, so what? I had a good memory. There was silence for a few minutes as we started eating before she spoke to April. “I have to ask. Did you finish your real homework first?”
“I just have some science worksheets left,” April answered in between stuffing her face.
“Max can help you with that after dinner.” Mom smiled sunnily at me when I shot her a glare “Then you can help Max with his homework,” she continued.
“Very funny,” I responded.
“Well, if you’re going to be staying in tonight anyway, you could at least attempt to do well.”
This reminded me of the downsides of her working day shifts. She was around in the evening yet somehow found ways to keep me around too. It didn’t mean I couldn’t still drink and party and hook up with guys. I just had to work more for it.
April joined in. “Your GPA is good, but is it Princeton or Yale good?”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. My GPA wasn’t supposed to be Ivy League good. After the divorce, my grades plummeted. I didn’t care anymore. Then I found the auto shop and took an interest in something again. Mom and I made an agreement: a 3.0 had meant I could work there. Now that I was 18, I guess I didn’t have to keep it up. The homework wasn’t too difficult, and this was my last year. Might as well keep doing it.
“Yeah, make a little effort. Your SAT scores can only get you so far,” Mom added.
“I wasn’t aware I was even taking the SAT,” I commented.
They shared a look. Oh, they had definitely signed me up. My little sister grinned unapologetically at me. My family. I reminded myself that I loved them. Even if I could barely stand them sometimes, I wouldn’t trade them for all the money in the world.
***
Cal
My life had enough drama to air on primetime TV. I assumed. I didn’t watch much TV, and I’m aware that’s pretentious, but I have a busy schedule. And everything had been going according to that schedule just a few short weeks ago.
Now, I’d been dumped and had a moment of insanity with a sexy stranger who showed up in my life again only to cause trouble. Not only was a sexuality crisis in my future, but it was spurred on by my former best friend. Who I currently wanted to strangle. He left me nearly naked in a middle school! What if some uptight parent saw me darting into classrooms frantically searching for clothes and called the police? A Winthrop-Scott labelled as a pervert would definitely make local headlines.
I managed to free myself from his makeshift shackles and wandered around trying to pretend I still knew my way around this place so I didn’t panic while I looked for the drama department. I prayed I didn’t run into old Mrs. Miller, the social studies teacher, like this. She always seemed to be there ready to catch troublemakers when I went here, and I hoped her radar for misconduct had dimmed over the years.
I found the theater department without incident, but it seemed that whatever production they were preparing for didn’t have any adult roles. It was some kind of fairy tale explosion with multiple stories crammed into one. The dwarf costumes were of course too small, and I vetoed a fluffy ballgown that screamed Cinderella while trying on every costume meant for boys and praying that it fit. There was no metaphorical glass slipper for me, but the dress for Little Red Riding Hood worked well enough.
It was a simple red frock made of loose stretchy material that fell a few inches below my thighs.
Oh god, I was going to find Max and kill him painfully and slowly. I imagined all the ways I could murder him while making my way back to the parlor. I arrived to get Brendan maybe ten minutes after the club meeting ended, which I thought was good time, all things considered. Professor Vincent kept checking his watch before he saw me while Brendan slumped against a wall and pouted. He went from sulking to shocked when I walked over and asked if he was ready to go.
I powered through with confidence, aware a blush stained my cheeks and ears, but I looked them each in the eye, daring them to say something.
Brendan opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything before shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know,” he said and headed out.
“I will wash this and return it,” I said to the professor with as much dignity as possible before following Brendan.
***
While no one in my family had seen me in the outfit other than Brendan, it wasn’t a complete shock when I was called into my father’s study after dinner. The room could appear in Opulent Study Magazine, if such a thing existed. It was both lavish and predictable with overstuffed arm chairs, a mahogany desk, brandy and fancy tumblers, and a fireplace in the corner that never got used. I had once made it my goal to read all the books lining the walls of this room when I was younger until I discovered they were too boring and stuffy for even me- the kid who read the dictionary for pleasure.
“Professor Vincent called you?” I guessed. The man obviously never heard the adage that snitches got stitches. Wait, how did I know that? It was funny the things the mind remembered sometimes. Dad didn’t acknowledge my question. I looked at the glossy dark colored books instead of meeting my father’s disapproving stare.
Calvin Winthrop-Scott II was a tall, imposing man, but the latter wasn’t because of his height. He learned that from a life of military school and executive boardrooms and money. He had dark brown hair and eyes to match; my brother and I got our mother’s looks. Father was at the age where if his hair didn’t go gray at the edges soon I would have to conclude that he was dying it, but I just couldn’t imagine him doing something so trivial. I decided to count it as good genes thus far because that boded better for me.
“Today’s disappointment,” he started, and it seemed like that was all he could get out. Just thinking about the disappointment in question made him stop and shake his head.
“Brendan won,” I started when I couldn’t take the incredulous silence any longer.
“He won a practice bee that doesn’t matter,” he corrected. “Your spectacle overshined that. This wasn’t some kind of cry for help, was it?” he asked.
“No, of course not, I—" I started.
He held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” I tried again. Okay, he might think that the truth was as bad or worse than whatever he was imagining, but the clever lie I would come up with any minute now would be tame and acceptable and normal.
“I don’t care,” he said in a tone that cut off my protests. “Maybe you met a girl and thought a middle school was the right place to do something ill-advised with a stranger.” My nails dug into the surface of the chair. “Maybe some of the guys dared you.” Oh, that’s the one. I would definitely go with that lie.
I opened my mouth to speak before his look silenced me.
“I don’t care. Tell me you will do what you should have done today. Focus on helping Brendan. Set a good example for him. Can you give me your word?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered immediately.
I stewed in the heavy silence until I got the courage to meet my father’s eyes. They were cold and unforgiving the way they always were when I did something wrong, didn’t live up to the family name, was a disappointment, etc. I’d seen that judgmental stare several times over the course of my life and still hadn’t managed to get used to it. However, the look only lasted for a moment before he seemed to soften. “You and Katie had been dating for over a year, yes?”
“One year and four months,” I said quickly, then tried to play it off. “I mean, something like that. I don’t remember anymore.”
He almost smiled at that. “It can’t be easy, breaking up with her while handling college applications.”
“Yes, uh, no sir, it’s not. Are we going to talk about feelings?” That would be weirder than today’s foray into crossdressing.
“You can do that with your mother,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir,” I agreed.
“However,” he relented, “doing something foolish after a breakup is understandable.”
“It is?”
He nodded. “Though I think you’ll agree,” he said in a tone that said I better agree, “that you’ve reached your limit for crazy behavior.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good, don’t lose focus. Keep your grades up, get into Princeton, and help your brother. There will be other girls.”
I nodded quickly. This was the closest thing to a pep talk my father had ever given me. I didn’t mention that Princeton wasn’t my top choice.
“Don’t disappoint your mother and me.”
I promised I wouldn’t. “Nothing like this will happen again,” I said.
“Nothing like this will happen again,” he repeated. It was an order.
I had expected the apocalyptic fury from the one and only time I failed a test in third grade. My father had been almost warm and fuzzy instead. Was I becoming a mature adult that he no longer had to lecture or was I just that pathetic after my breakup? I felt lighter, relieved, for a few moments as I headed towards the door.
“One more thing.” His voice stopped me. “Edit your resume tonight; don’t put it off.”
“What?” I asked as my heartbeat picked up with fear.
“You don’t want to be caught lying on your applications. You can’t say you’ve got an internship with my company anymore.” My father didn’t even look at me while delivering the news, busying himself with something on his desk.
I knew it had been too easy but didn’t expect this. “You already gave me the internship,” I replied weakly.
“I offered it, but you hadn’t started. I’m not confident you can handle it anymore.” He spoke like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t been talking about how he hoped I could earn the opportunity since freshman year, how he wanted to show me the ropes but only if I showed him I deserved it first.
“I’m your son.” I did my best to school my reactions and not show my obvious disappointment or how blindsided I’d been. Showing emotion in my house was weakness. Well, some emotions were alright. Disappointment, stoicism, superiority. Was superiority an emotion? My parents were better at schooling their emotions, at going still and calm during the moments my brother or I got angry, making everything seem overblown and dramatic compared to their calm demeanors.
“That’s nepotism isn’t it?” he asked mildly.
“I earned it.”
His voice hardened. “Your current behavior shouldn’t be rewarded.”
“Dad, please—”
He interrupted. “Don’t beg, it’s pathetic.” He brushed some imaginary dirt off his suit jacket like he could wipe my embarrassing plea away. “You obviously have too much going on. I’m lightening your load.”
“You said it was understandable,” I muttered.
“Perhaps,” he admitted with a slight nod. His cold eyes cut through me. “But I still expect better from my son.”
***
Max
When it was time for the next bee club meeting two weeks after the first one, I dropped April off and drove around. While hesitant to speak highly about the suburbs, riding around the neighborhood by the school was a treat. The road wasn’t packed with cars, so I could cruise down streets with ease and take in the crisp autumn air. The rumble of the motorcycle’s engine sounded loud in the quiet
atmosphere.
I didn’t like rich people in general. Money was all that mattered to rich pricks and everything else was fake. Cal was proof of that. I drove thoughts of Cal out of my mind. Literally. I saw nothing but the road ahead of me, felt nothing but the wind barreling by me and the throb of the engine, heard nothing but the motor purring and the wind singing.
When I went back to pick April up, she waited out front for me with a familiar mop of blonde hair in tow. I should have figured April and Cal’s brother would glom onto each other.
“Oh god, of course you two would be together.” Cal’s voice sounded wary and I almost smiled. I would have guessed Cal’s well-bred manners insisted upon making official introductions but instead he voiced the same thought I had. There were lots of kids in the club who all liked spelling for some reason, so why did these two have to find each other?
“You did the bee too, right?” April asked Cal.
“Yes,” Cal sighed. “I’m Calvin Winthrop-Scott III and you’ve met Brendan.” Oh, there were the introductions. He held his hand out for April to shake and she took his larger hand in her two smaller ones and enthusiastically pumped their joined hands up and down. Cal half-frowned, half-smiled, like he couldn’t decide if he was horrified by her manners or charmed by how adorable she was.
“Did you guys compete together?” she asked next.
Cal frowned since us Kellers didn’t introduce ourselves. I was petty enough to get glee out of that. He looked at me for a moment before blushing and looking away, which I also enjoyed. “It was a long time ago,” Cal said.
“It was only like five years ago,” I pointed out. It seemed like ancient history. I just didn’t want to agree with Cal.
“You’re right, it wasn’t that long ago.” He seemed to consider something for a moment and brightened. He stared me down and didn’t break his gaze this time. “It was just yesterday you were obsessed with Pluto.” Oh god.