by Cathi Bond
“Should we go on the Flyer next?” she asked, plucking a tuft of pink cotton candy from her cone.
I didn’t buy any candy because I was too nervous to eat. I’d brought a gift for Ginnie, something special that showed her how much I loved her. The most precious thing I owned lay in the bottom of my purse. Could I do it? Could I give it to someone else? Our car stopped, suspending us over the Better Living Centre. Ginnie leaned over, looking down over the milling crowd.
“I wonder if Mom’s still in there.”
I put my hand in my purse stroking the cool cuts of crystal.
“I’ve got a present for you.”
I pulled the bottle out of my bag and handed Ginnie Mom’s bottle of Joy.
Her eyes widened. “It’s beautiful.”
She quickly kissed my cheek, making my stomach skip. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“But it’s open.”
“Why don’t you try some on?”
Ginnie removed the stopper, and just like Mom, she dabbed a bit behind her ears and the tiniest drops on the insides of her wrists. She thrust her wrist towards me. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. What was the word? Swoon. I nearly did. Then the little canary car lurched back to life.
I don’t remember the details of the day, just the scent of Joy as Ginnie and I rode the Polar Bear Express, lost all of our change in the Salt and Pepper and ate so much peanut brittle we thought we’d get sick. We crammed into a photo booth and mugged for the camera, laughing at the strip of silly photos that slid out of the machine, and then we got in and did it again. There were times that day that I thought Mom was with me. It was a mirage. The sun, the sounds and the smell. Oh, the smell. I’d see Mom’s face, but then it changed into Ginnie’s. My beautiful Ginnie, who I loved more than anyone else in the world.
At seven o’clock we met Mrs. Hall in front of the Coliseum. Mr. Hall was in the parking lot getting the car.
“Did you girls have fun?”
“The best.”
Mrs. Hall sniffed the air.
“What’s that smell?”
Ginnie thrust her wrist beneath her mother’s nostrils. “It’s perfume, Mom. Maddy gave it to me.”
“Let me see.”
Ginnie removed the bottle from her purse. Mrs. Hall’s gloved hand snatched it, holding it up to the light.
“This is half empty. Where did you get it?”
Please give it back, Mrs. Hall, please give it back. “It’s from my family.”
She removed the stopper, took a sniff, and then gave me a very strange look.
“This is French perfume. Expensive French perfume is something that a man buys a woman. It’s not an acceptable gift from a girl.”
“But, Mom –”
“No buts. Maddy, I’m afraid you’re going to have to take this back.”
“Please Mrs. Hall, it’s just something small.”
“No.”
“I want Ginnie to have it.”
Mrs. Hall thrust the bottle at me. I put my palm up to stop her, but our hands collided and the bottle slipped. I tried to catch it. So did Ginnie. But Mom’s prized possession, her bottle of French perfume, smashed, shards of crystal shattering across the red brick steps.
“Oh, Maddy,” Ginnie said. “I’m so sorry.”
Once it was free from its bottle, the Joy began to evaporate.
“That’s a shame,” Mrs. Hall said, looking down. “But you shouldn’t have put up such a fuss.” She took her daughter by the arm. “Come along, Ginnie, we’ve got to meet your father.”
I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and smell the Joy before it disappeared, seeping forever into the stone and air. But I couldn’t do that. I followed Ginnie and her mother back to the car.
After that, things began to change. One night, after we shut the door and crawled into bed, her sister called, “What’s going on in there?”
Ginnie’s breath quickened in the dark.
“Nothing,” she replied, her lips an inch from mine.
“It sounded funny. What are you doing?”
Ginnie’s body stiffened through the bed clothes. She got up and opened the door. Opened it wide and left it there.
“We’re not up to anything.”
Ginnie hopped back into bed. I whispered to her to shut the door, but she just moved closer to the wall.
“Go to sleep,” she whispered.
“I want to kiss you,” I whispered back, snuggling in tight beside her.
“Stop it.”
“Why?”
“This is supposed to be with a boy.”
“Do you want to do it with a boy?” I asked into the black, petrified of the answer.
“I don’t know.”
She rolled over and pulled the sheet up tight to shut me out.
Betsy and Sandy started asking questions too. It was late November, after I turned fifteen, another birthday that Dad forgot. Betsy was quizzing Ginnie over by their lockers.
“What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing,” Ginnie replied, way too defensively.
Betsy gave her a funny look.
“Dale was wondering if you’d like to double with us. We’re going to the drive-in this Saturday.”
Ginnie looked over at me. I violently shook my head no. We were having a sleepover. “Sounds like fun,” she said.
I ran after her, finally catching up by the bus line. “Why are you doing this?” I yanked her out of the line.
“Let me go. You’re making a scene,” she said.
“Just give me a second.”
I pulled her towards the basketball hoops. This was bad. She was slipping away. “You don’t even like Dale. Why are you going with him?”
I tried not to be pathetic, and tried really, really hard not to cry. I cared about Ginnie way more than she cared about me.
“I’ve got to go.”
She turned away. I yanked her back and a bunch of kids looked over. I didn’t care. I didn’t give a damn what anybody thought. But Ginnie did.
Her voice dropped really low. “This isn’t normal. I don’t want people talking about me,” she said. “And I don’t think you should come out to my place for a while.”
I burst into tears in the middle of the schoolyard.
“You’re my friend. Aren’t you my best friend?”
I was thinking what it was like to be Mark’s sister, driven to get down in the dirt. I would have done that for Ginnie. I wouldn’t have cared what anybody said. But one look at her face and I knew that if I didn’t back off she’d be gone for good. The bus driver honked and Ginnie ran up the stairs. The yellow school bus kicked up gravel as it pulled out of the lot. Ginnie sat at the back, her beautiful long blond hair draping over a seat. Dale sat beside her, sliding his arm around her. It was worse than being kicked in the stomach by the biggest horse in the world.
“Dad?” I poked my head into the waiting room. Nobody was there. The office was closed and the Oldsmobile was gone. I walked into the kitchen. Rika was finishing up the evening dishes.
“You late vor supper,” she said, not looking up from the suds.
I wasn’t hungry anyway.
“Where are the boys?”
Rika set the frying pan in the dish rack.
“You know this is virst time I hear you ask about them?”
She had to be lying.
“You know Vrank is captain of baseball team and Tedder is in Cubs?”
I didn’t. I’d seen Tedder wandering around in a costume, but I hadn’t thought to ask. He always wore weird things. Rika pulled a pot out of the hot, soapy water.
“You are bad, selvish girl.”
“Leave me alone,” I replied, walking out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the office.
The light in the dispensary was still on. Rika was just being mean. None of my friends played with their younger siblings. It wasn’t something that you did, but I used to. Sure Frank and I fought, but w
e also played catch and loved building rocket ships out of giant cardboard boxes strung with Christmas lights.
The latest copy of TIME magazine lay on the metal counter. It was another issue devoted to the youth drug culture. There was a picture of a teenager injecting drugs into the hollow of his arm. The writer talked about how the counterculture had begun with peaceful protests and marijuana, but there had been a nasty shift to hard drugs and riots. There had been a hard shift in my world, too.
The Compendium said it would take about fifteen minutes to feel the effects of Valium and recommended taking one. I took two and wandered down to the rec room. At first I felt floaty and light, but then I just passed out on the sofa with my clothes on. Nobody noticed that I’d slept down there that night, even though the TV was blaring. While the Valium really knocked me out, it didn’t help with how sad I felt when I woke up the next morning.
“Hi,” Ginnie said, walking towards me.
I turned the other way. It was hard, but I knew the only way to get her back was to ignore her. Nobody wants you if you need them. They only want you if you don’t. Kenneth stood by the water fountain. I walked over, bent down and took a few little gulps of water while he stared at my boobs.
“Are you going to the drive-in this weekend?” I asked.
“Do you want to come?”
I shrugged, chewing on a strand of hair. “It depends. Can you get anything to drink?”
Kenneth’s head bobbed up and down.
“Mark’s got his dad’s car. We can pick you up at eight.”
Ginnie was at her locker, pretending not to watch.
Mark was so short he needed to sit on a phone book to see over the steering wheel, and he didn’t have a driver’s license but I didn’t care.
“You want a drink?” Kenneth asked.
Sandy had mixed up a batch of Purple Jesus. That’s when you saved all the heels from your parents’ liquor bottles and mixed them in with purple Kool-Aid. It tasted horrible but had a real kick, making the thought of Ginnie being with Dale fade away. Tearing down the two- lane highway, we chugged the liquor and laughed. About a mile away from the drive-in Mark pulled over and told Kenneth and me to get out.
“Why?” I asked.
“We’re getting in the trunk,” Kenneth replied.
Mark didn’t have any money for tickets so Kenneth and I were going to be smuggled in.
“But we’ll freeze in there.”
It was early December and I didn’t bring a coat.
“I’ll keep you warm,” Kenneth smiled.
“Can I have another drink first?”
“After we get out,” Kenneth replied.
I followed them to the back of the car. There were a couple of lawn chairs in the trunk already, making it cramped and uncomfortable. Just before Mark shut the lid I caught Kenneth’s glance. He had that horny look on his face and a bulge in his pants.
“No way.” I wasn’t touching his penis in the dark.
“If you do, you don’t have to touch it again all night.”
This was gross. I could smell his Juicy Fruit breath, and he kept trying to grab my hand and put it on his crotch.
“Please?” he whimpered, begging.
Right then I wondered if Kenneth and I were so different. I would have been crying for Ginnie to touch me.
“You promise you won’t tell?” I whispered, reaching into the black, feeling for the cloth of his jeans.
“Never, ever,” he gasped, promising over and over, so desperate and pleading.
My fingers traced up towards his crotch. I could feel him fumbling for the zipper, trying to yank it down. I didn’t feel so grossed out anymore. I felt sorry for Kenneth and I felt sorry for me.
“You can have all the drinks you want.”
Mark honked to warn us we were near the gate. My fingers closed around Kenneth’s penis. It was rock hard. He tried to grab my hand to pump it, but I wanted to do it myself. Harder and harder I pumped. Up and down and up and down until he let out a tiny moan. Something felt wet. Then the trunk opened and for a moment, all I could see was stars.
“Where’s the liquor?” I asked, hopping out and pulling a lawn chair with me. I wanted a good seat for the show.
By the time I saw Ginnie I was totally polluted. The ground rolled when I walked, making me giggle. I threw my arm around Kenneth’s neck and slid up against him for support. Ginnie and Betsy were coming back from the girls’ washroom by the concession stand.
“How’s it going?” I slurred.
Ginnie frowned. She didn’t like me being with Kenneth.
“Where’s your coat?”
“Where’s Dale?” I replied, pulling Kenneth even closer.
He didn’t mind being used, but then again, he probably didn’t know it either.
“He’s back at the car,” Ginnie said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We’re here with Sandy and Mark. We got a bunch of drinks. You should come over.”
Ginnie quickly said, “No thanks,” but Betsy thought it sounded like fun.
Brad and Dale arrived.
“Hey, you guys want to party? Sandy’s got really good Jesus,” I added, with a grin at Dale that read pure dare.
Dale slung his arm around Ginnie’s shoulder. “Sure.”
I dumped the pop on the ground and filled the concession paper cup with liquor. We were all crammed into Mark’s car. He and Sandy were making out in the front seat beside Betsy and Brad. Ginnie and Dale were in the back beside me and Kenneth. Kenneth had his hands all over me, and it was making Ginnie crazy. She just kept looking out the window to see if anyone was watching. Betsy took a big drink from the cup of Jesus and laughed, handing the cup to Brad, who belted it back.
“That burns! What’s in it?”
“You don’t want to know,” I said, handing some to Dale.
“I don’t think we should be drinking,” Ginnie said.
“Oh come on, it’s Saturday night. Let’s have some fun.”
“Chug it, Dale!” Betsy yelled. “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Dale didn’t have a choice but Ginnie refused. I proposed another round. The first round was kicking in and we were all feeling good. The cup passed around again. Betsy and Brad started making out harder. I took another gulp and kissed Kenneth. Dale put his arm around Ginnie and tried to get closer, but she threw open the door and announced that she was going home. Dale tried to follow but I jumped out first, telling him to wait in the car.
“Hey, wait up!” I called, staggering after Ginnie. “What’s wrong?” She was upset. “When did you start drinking?”
“It’s just about having fun. I thought that’s what tonight was all about, having fun with boys.” I tried to pull her around, then lost my balance and started to fall. Ginnie caught me.
“Are you and Dale having a good time?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“Because I’d rather be with you.”
That would have made me happy, if only Ginnie didn’t look so sad.
Dad was out. Rika and the boys were asleep. I sat on the metal counter in the dispensary reading the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The book said that people attracted to the same sex were called homosexuals or lesbians and their sexual interests were “toward sexual acts not usually associated with coitus, or toward coitus.” What was coitus? Then it said “homosexuals performed sex under bizarre circumstances such as in necrophilia, pedophilia, sexual sadism and fetishism.” Necrophilia was dead people. I threw the book down. Ginnie and I weren’t deviants. We were like secret sisters.
The Purple Jesus had worn off and I needed something for pain. The TIME magazine with the syringe on the cover said the best drug was heroin, but Dad didn’t have any of that. The Compendium said that heroin was an illegal substance that was derived from the opium family, which was related to morphine. There wasn’t any morphine,
but I knew where to find synthetic substitutes –Dad’s restricted
substance drawer.
I went into the nurse’s station and dug out a bottle of Dilaudid – little pink pills that Dad prescribed for extreme pain.
“Maddy?”
Footsteps down the hall. I dropped the bottle back into the drawer. Dad walked in as I stood up, shutting the drawer with my leg.
“You’re home early,” I said.
“You’re up late,” Dad replied, eyes down, leafing through the day’s mail. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“It was okay.” I felt myself sway as I crossed the room, leaning into the door jamb for support. “I’m going to bed.” I turned and walked out. “See you in the morning.”
“Honeybunch?” Dad called, poking his head through the doorway.
I leaned against the wall to steady myself. I was way drunker than I thought.
“Are you free next Friday? I want to take you to a recital at Aunt Anne’s church in Toronto. A friend of mine is singing.”
I was about to complain, but now that I was up and moving around I was seeing double and knew I might start slurring again.
“Okay.”
Dad smiled. Waving goodnight, I turned, praying he’d do the same, and thankfully he did, because when I took the first step I lost my balance and bounced off the opposite wall.
“Are you alright?” he called.
“Oh, yeah.”
Dad parked in the lot at the side of the church. My bare legs stuck to the vinyl of the car seat. Aunt Anne had called earlier that day and asked me to wear my new dress.
“I hate dresses.”
“Do this for your father.”
“No.”
“Then do it for me.”
There was no point fighting.
I followed Dad into the church and we took our seats near the front. The church’s chancel had been transformed into a forest with wigwams and a fake lake. It must be something about cowboys and Indians. Aunt Anne slipped into the pew beside me.
She seemed nervous. “Don’t you look pretty?”
I shrugged.