by Andrea Ring
“Get up. Dad needs you.”
She doesn’t fight me, but she doesn’t move to get up, either.
“Leni, I can’t,” she says quietly.
“This is ridiculous,” I say. “Get your ass up now!”
She finally sits up.
“I can’t go,” she says, her voice like a whiney two-year-old. “No more hospitals. I can’t do it.”
“Not everything is about you. Dad needs help, too.”
Bea starts crying again, and I’ve had it.
“I’m going to put Bea in her high chair and give her something to eat, then you are going to get dressed and drive to the hospital. If I have to dress you myself, and fling you out of the moving car, so help me, you’re going.”
I stomp out of the room and get Bea situated with some crackers and cheese in front of the TV.
I return to Mom’s room to find her sobbing on the floor. I crouch down in front of her.
“Don’t make me go,” she whispers.
“Mom, this isn’t okay, you know that, right? This isn’t normal.”
She nods her head slowly.
“You know you need help. Professional help.”
“I just…want to be left alone,” she says.
“But you have a family!” I cry. “You can’t just give up when you have people counting on you.”
Mom just turns her head away from me.
I growl. “Fine. You don’t want help and I can’t help you. Fine. I don’t know why the hell Dad stays with you, anyway.”
I start to stand when Mom speaks.
“He asked me for a divorce years ago,” she says, her chest hiccoughing. “But I, I told him I’d kill myself if he left.”
I stare at her in horror. And then I say the first thing that pops into my head.
“Maybe we’d be better off.”
***
Dad calls a few hours later. He doesn’t ask where Mom is. I suppose he has enough to deal with.
Grandma indeed has a fractured hip and a cracked elbow. She had surgery to put a pin in her hip, and Dad says she’s completely out of it and not up for visitors.
But I promised I’d see her on Christmas.
I don’t call Clark. It’s not that I don’t want him with me, because I do, but it’s Christmas. He needs to be with his family, and I just need to be by myself.
It’s after seven by the time I get to Grandma’s room. She’s frail-looking under normal circumstances, but seeing her in the hospital bed, tubes hooked up and oxygen mask covering her face, she looks skeletal. I’m almost afraid to touch her, lest she crumble to dust.
She’s not awake, and I don’t want to disturb her. I sit for a half hour, holding her hand, telling her how sorry I am that she was here alone last night. She must have been terrified. Lonely. I wonder if she even understood what was going on.
How could my mother not tell us when she got that call?
I know Mom can’t function normally. I know she goes through her day like a zombie. I just never imagined she’d ignore something this important.
And she’s the one taking care of Bea.
I shudder.
I know I have to get Bea out of there before something awful happens.
Five more months. Five more months until I graduate, then I can move out and take Bea with me. I don’t know where I’ll go, or how I’ll make ends meet, but I vow to do it. I can do it.
But five months seems like a lifetime when Bea’s at risk. I can’t lose another child in my life.
I have to figure out a way to keep Bea safe.
When I get back home, Dad’s still up. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a beer.
I decide that for Bea’s sake, I can’t coddle his feelings any more.
I sit in front of him. “The home called last night when Grandma fell. They talked to Mom. She knew last night.”
Dad picks at the label on the beer bottle. “I know. They told me, after I gave them an earful.”
I just stare at him.
“She said she was so sleepy, she didn’t even remember the call.” Dad finally meets my eyes. “That could happen, right? That could happen to anyone.”
I close my eyes. “No, Dad. That doesn’t happen to normal people.”
He sighs. “Rhonda gets back the day after you go to that dance. I talked to her, and she’s willing to take Mom for a while.”
“What about Bea?” I ask him.
“We’ll have to get a sitter. Maybe you can find someone.”
Anything to make this happen.
I nod. “I’ll find someone.” I stand up and push my chair in. “Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Chapter Twenty
I haven’t asked Clark what he’s wearing to the dance, and he hasn’t said anything, either. I don’t care what he wears, although it is kind of fun imagining everyone’s reaction to my pierced, mohawked date.
I should have imagined my own reaction.
Clark meets us at Baby T’s. We spent the afternoon beautifying, and damn if we don’t look hot. Clark’s never seen me like this. In his words, I usually dress like a mall girl. But tonight, I wanted something more sophisticated.
I bought black chiffon pants, fitted around my butt and billowing in the legs. An off-the-shoulder silver chiffon blouse, tight at the cuffs and waist but billowy in the sleeves. Strappy black heels.
Red polish. Crimson lips. Black, smoky eyes. And short hair slicked back except for the piece in front that I swept to the side and secured with a silver barrette.
Clark matches me.
Classic black tuxedo. Black hair slicked back into a low ponytail. No piercings visible, save for a tiny ruby stud in his nose.
And no makeup.
He’s beautiful and sexy and takes my breath away.
“Leni,” he breathes when he sees me, and our lips hover an inch apart before he pulls back and laughs. “I don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”
“I don’t care,” I say, reaching for him, but Gabi and Baby T choose that moment to intervene.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Gabi says, pushing me out of the way. “I’m Gabriella, and this is Tiana.”
He shakes their hands. “Gabi and Baby T,” he says, and they laugh.
“Mine,” I say, pulling him back to my side.
“I’m Raz.” Clark shakes his hand, too, but Raz doesn’t crack a smile. “You sure work fast, Clark. Leni just had her heart broken, what? A few weeks ago?”
“All fixed now,” Clark says smoothly.
“Raz, stop being an ass,” I say.
He laughs. “I’m just sayin’. That greeting was way too familiar for a few weeks.”
“Just because it took you a year to work up the courage to ask me out,” Baby T says, pulling Raz away from us, “doesn’t mean Clark has the same problem.”
“You don’t have a problem with this?” Raz asks her, jerking his arm away from her.
“It’s none of our business.”
“Jay is my friend.”
“And I’m sure Emily will console him for you,” she says.
Raz scowls but shuts up.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper in Clark’s ear. He smells good, like soap and pine needles.
“Don’t be,” he says, kissing my forehead. “Wait ’til you meet my friends.”
***
Dr. Jones is standing outside the ballroom of the Irvine Marriott, presumably sniffing everyone who dares enter. She meets my eyes long before we reach her, and I expect her to walk over to us, but she doesn’t move. She waits for us to come to her.
That’s when I realize she needed those few moments to gather herself.
She hugs me first. Sure, we’ve become friendly, but I know she didn’t want me to become so with Clark. So I’m caught off guard. I hug her back as warmly as I know how, because she’s the hero in Clark’s story and I just plain like her.
“You look lovely,” she says, but her eyes move quickly to Clark.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping aside.
She doesn’t move. She’s like an old oak tree, stiff and rooted.
“Aunt Linda,” Clark says, moving forward to kiss her cheek. Her hand automatically covers the kiss, as though she doesn’t want it to float away.
“You’re…you look…fine. More than fine.”
“Fine?” he says with a smile.
“No words can do you justice,” she says, her voice shaking. “You’re smiling.”
“I always smile when I’m with Leni.”
“Indeed,” she says. “I must have known.”
They share a secret look, and I can’t help wondering if she really knew me all along.
“Have fun,” she says. “Go on. I don’t want to keep you.”
Clark slips an arm though mine and escorts me inside.
We check in and present our tickets. Clark takes my hand and squeezes it.
Baby T and Raz are already dancing with Gabi and Johnny. I want to join them, but I don’t want to start off the night any more awkwardly than it’s already been.
“How about we start with pictures?” Clark asks.
I wasn’t sure he’d want photographic evidence of this evening. Sure, we’re seeing each other now, but couples’ pictures take things to a different level.
I smile at him. “Really?”
“Of course,” he says, pulling me toward the picture line. “I’ve always wanted a picture from a school dance. And this is special because it’s with you.”
“You are romantic,” I say. “I knew it.”
“Nah,” he says. “I just want something for my kids to laugh at in twenty years.”
We reach the line and watch as the couples ahead of us pose. Some are side by side, their hands clasped between them. Some choose to have the girl with her back to the guy’s chest. Tommy Martone gets on his knees and has his short girlfriend peeking over his shoulder.
While we wait, I’m filling out the order form, another awkward choice. I choose package C, not the cheapest, but not the most expensive either. Clark eyes the order form over my shoulder.
“I’m paying,” he says. “Choose E.”
“E?” I say. “That’s a lot of photos.”
“Linda wants the 8x10,” he explains. Then he grabs another blank form off the table and hands it to me. “Choose E on this one, too.”
“Two?”
“Two,” he says, eyes twinkling.
I fill out the forms, then go back to watching the couples struggle to find a pose they’re both comfortable with.
“So how do you want to do this?” I ask Clark.
“I have two poses I want to do, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay,” I say. I wait for him to say more, but he stays silent.
When it’s our turn, the photographer asks us how we’d like to pose, and I look at Clark expectantly. He turns his back to me and bends his knees. “Hop on my back.”
The photographer grins at me.
What the heck.
I jump on his back and cling to him.
Clark juggles me up higher on his hips and faces the camera. “Rock pose,” he says. “Go.”
I don’t give myself time to think. I lower my head until our cheeks our pressed together. I pump one fist in the air and kick one leg out straight in front of us. Both of give a rebel yell as the camera snaps.
The photographer checks the computer monitor to see how the photo turned out. “Awesome,” he says. “What’s the next one?”
I slide down off Clark’s back, laughing. He pulls me close, face to face, and bumps my forehead with his. “Like this,” he says.
I’m still laughing, but as soon as our eyes meet, I sober. This is Clark. And me. This is us. In this moment, there is only us.
A light flashes and the shutter clicks.
And still neither of us moves.
***
“How about a drink?” I say.
“I’ll get drinks and you get a table,” he says. Efficient of him.
We split up, and I find an empty table. There are a couple of purses hanging on chairs, but at least no people. I sit down and scan the room.
Jay will be here, probably is already here. He’d be easy to spot in a crowd, though, and I don’t see him. Not that I care. I shake my head and turn to look for Clark. He’s leaning on the bar talking to someone in a long red slut dress. Janna Paulson. I have to laugh. Janna’s finally met her match.
I wonder at that, why I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy. Maybe it’s the impatient drum of Clark’s fingers on the bar. Maybe it’s the glances he keeps stealing to meet my eyes across the room. Probably it’s the eye roll he gives me over Janna’s head.
He comes back with two Cokes and hands me one. “Thanks,” I say.
He sits down beside me and sips.
“So is this how you imagined it?” he asks.
“Pretty much. You?”
“Yeah. It’s a little fancier, maybe. Seems kind of crazy for a bunch of teenagers.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Like we’re playing at being adults.”
“Do you want to dance?” he asks, nodding at my friends on the dance floor with a frown.
“I’m fine, unless you want to.”
“This is a dance, Leni.”
“I wasn’t sure dancing was your thing.”
“I came to a dance with a dancer,” he says. “I knew what I was getting into.”
I cannot imagine Clark dancing, not to a fast song, anyway. And I feel bad for thinking it, but I don’t want to see him do anything embarrassing. I don’t want this magical bubble we’re in to burst.
“Can we wait for a slow one?” I ask.
He nods.
We both turn to the dance floor. Baby T and Raz are wrapped around each other. Gabi’s shaking her butt, lost in her own world while Jonny makes a fool of himself beside her. I giggle. Then I stop. There’s Jay, doing a slow bump and grind with Emily. He meets my eyes over her head. I try to smile, but he doesn’t.
“Ugh,” I say, turning back to Clark. “There’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Clark cocks his head and leans into me. “Which one?”
“The giant.”
Clark’s eyes find Jay. “Whoa. He is tall.”
“You’re tall,” I say waving a hand over his six-foot, two-inch frame. “He’s a freak of nature.”
Clark laughs. “Good to know there’s no animosity there.”
I smile. “Sorry. There’s really not. I’m just sayin’.”
Clark takes my hand and kisses it. “The giant cometh,” he whispers.
My eyes widen, and I force myself not to turn around.
“Hey, Leni,” Jay says to my back.
I take a deep breath and turn. “Hi, Jay.”
“You know Emily, right?”
I smile at her. “Hey Emily. This is Clark.”
They all nod at each other.
“We were just dancing,” Jay says. “We haven’t seen you guys out there yet.”
“We’ll get there,” I say.
“Leni’s a great dancer,” Jay says, and I see Emily’s smile falter. “She taught me to waltz. You know how to waltz, Clark?”
Clark leans back in his chair and props one ankle on his knee.
“I’ve never waltzed with Leni.”
I notice that’s not a no.
Jay turns to Emily. “You know how to waltz?”
She shakes her head.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll ask the DJ to put on some music. We can teach them.”
I look at Clark, my eyes pleading with him to say something brilliant to end this. But Clark just smiles and stands up.
“Cool.” He holds out a hand to me and pulls me up. “Let’s waltz.”
It takes a couple more songs before the DJ can work a slow song in.
The four of us stand off to the side of the dance floor, making small talk. I’m so uncomfortable I want to run out of the room, but Clark is standing f
ast, holding my hand. He’s the only thing keeping me here.
We finally get our slow song. Jay leads Emily out ahead of us, and I see their bungling exchange as Jay tries to get her hands properly situated.
Clark and I don’t have that problem.
He expertly takes my right hand in his left, and I place my left arm on his upper right. We lock gazes. And we twirl.
“You know how to waltz,” I whisper, following his lead around the room.
He smiles. “I learned for you.”
“What?” I miss a step, and Clark laughs.
“I know the waltz and the merengue,” he says. “I haven’t had time to learn anything else.”
I stop moving. “You took dance lessons? For me?”
“Linda suggested it, actually,” he says. “It’s been kind a fun.”
I laugh. “You do have rhythm,” I concede. “I wasn’t sure.”
He looks offended, then kisses my ear. “Oh, I have rhythm, alright.”
Oh. My stomach somersaults. Clark and I in rhythm…
I start moving again and Clark picks the steps right back up. We twirl past Emily and Jay, who are clomping along and looking decidedly frustrated with each other.
I catch Jay’s attention as we dance by him. “This was a great idea,” I say to him brightly. “I didn’t know my boyfriend could dance. You totally made my night.”
Jay scowls while Clark grins.
We stick it out for one more song, but the Coke has gotten to me.
“I just have to run to the restroom,” I tell Clark.
He nods and heads back to the table.
As I make my way around the dance floor, I see Raz stalk off ahead of me, Baby T following quickly. She catches up to him about twenty feet away from me, and he shoves her off roughly. And still she follows him. They round a corner and are out of my sight.
I almost turn back—they obviously don’t need an audience—but I have to pee. I slow my steps and hear them arguing even before I hit the corner. I flatten my back to the wall and listen.
“You’re a whore, Tiana! I can’t believe you’d do that in front of the whole school!”
“I didn’t do anything,” Baby T cries. “Marcus came up to me. Marcus is the one who freaked me. I didn’t freak him back.”
I hear a thud, followed by Baby T’s sharp gasp.
“You’re a fucking liar. A whore and a liar. You think you can screw around on me and I wouldn’t find out about it?”