What Happens After

by Portia Moore

  I feel my face fall. “Why would you let him take the car? God, Mom, you can’t be that desperate to just hand over the only way you and I get to work for some guy with a beer belly and a dead colon!”

  “I don’t want to hear it! If it’s not back by tonight, I’ll call the cops. Just calm down,” she says angrily.

  Oh yeah, get angry at me, not the guy who’s pretty much stolen your car. “Mom, I’m on a final warning at work. If I’m late, that could be it. I asked for this shift!”

  “What do you want me to do? I can’t do anything right now. Can’t you call one of your friends to take you?”

  “Yeah, because it’s my friends’ responsibility to look after your child’s well-being!”

  I storm past her into my room, put down my book bag, and grab my hat and apron for work. When I leave my room, I hear my mom screaming into the phone—I presume it’s Jack. I roll my eyes, head out of the house, and jog over to Chris’s. I feel my stomach drop. I absolutely hate asking people for stuff, but if I lose this job, I’m screwed. Evie works just enough to keep a roof over our heads and buy frivolous shit we don’t need. I swallow my pride and head up the stairs, going up the front since Chris isn’t home, and ring the bell. A few minutes later, Gwen is at the door.

  “Hi, Mrs. Scott. I’m sorry to bother you,” I say hesitantly.

  She immediately looks concerned. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sort of. I’m hoping you could drop me off at work. My mom has a friend looking at her car, and I won’t make it if I walk. I can get home. I just have to get there, or they’ll probably fire me,” I say, doing my best to hold in my tears.

  “Of course, sweetie. I’ll grab my keys. It’ll just be a minute.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  THE RIDE TO the Barrow is quiet except for Mrs. Scott humming along to the radio. She’s seems to be in a really good mood. I try to calm my nerves and suck up all the angst I’m emitting.

  “I really commend you, being in school and working your senior year,” she says, and I smile. “When I was your age, I did the bare minimum to get by.”

  I feel my face scrunch up. It’s funny, but I don’t get that from her. I would have thought she was a cheerleader, class treasurer, and homecoming queen. Mrs. Scott has always had a way of emanating warmth and good feels. Something I wish Evie had an ounce of.

  “Really?” I say with a chuckle.

  “Oh yeah,” she says, giving me a wide grin. “I hated school and thought I knew everything of course. You’re seventeen?”

  “Yeah. I turn eighteen in January.”

  She nods. “I had so much growing up to do.” She sighs a little, and I detect a hint of sadness behind her expression.

  “Well, you turned out pretty awesome,” I say.

  She smiles and chuckles. “I did, I guess, huh?”

  I can’t help feeling confused. How could she not think that? She’s, like, Suzie Homemaker. All of Chris’s friends love her—she’s miles ahead of my mom at least. I’ve known the Scotts since I was little.

  She sings to the music again. I pull out some notes Amanda gave me earlier from precalc, but they might as well be in Japanese.

  “What’s that?” Gwen asks.

  I sigh. “Precalc notes. I’m having the worst time with it. I hate math.”

  “Oh, I’m glad I get to avoid those classes when I start back.”

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “I’m taking a couple of courses at the community college this fall. Chris sort of inspired me to go back,” she says.

  “That’s cool. I wish I could skip math altogether and choose what to take like they do in other countries. I don’t need math. I don’t plan on becoming a scientist or anything.”

  “You never know when you’ll need it though. You’d be the surprised how often it comes up. I hated math too. Luckily my math teacher senior year was more interested in being a musician than teaching us and passed us just for showing up.” She chuckles. “Chris is pretty good at math. He can’t help you?”

  “Yeah, Chris is great, but he’s more of a doer than a shower if that makes sense,” I say, trying to hide the fact that her son does most of my math homework for me. But he struggles with how to show me how to do it. I hope I haven’t given too much away.

  “Oooh. Doesn’t the school offer tutoring or something?” Gwen asks.

  “They do, but its right after school, and I’m at work while it’s going on.”

  “Hmm, I think I might have the perfect tutor for you,” she says.

  “Really, who?”

  “My husband, William,” she says cheerfully.

  “He’s good at math?” I haven’t really been around Chris’s dad in a while. He’s always working on their farm or gone somewhere on business for it. I don’t think I’ve even seen him up close in a few years.

  “He’s great at it. He taught math for a while right after college, and he’s really patient.”

  “Really?” I ask, surprised. Chris’s dad was a teacher? How do you go from teacher to farmer?

  “Yes. He’d probably get a kick out of helping you. Sometimes I wonder if he regrets not sticking with it . . . I think it’ll be great for him.”

  “You sure he wouldn’t be too busy?”

  “No, with fall practically here, things will really slow down for us. He’s just closed a big deal for a contract for the farm he’s been working on, and with me starting night classes, he’ll probably be bored. It’d be perfect,” she says as we pull up in front of my job. “What do you think?”

  “If he could help, that’d be great. He’d probably have to be a miracle worker though. I’m pretty bad,” I say, embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry about it. He used to tutor in college, and you can’t be any worse than the kids he worked with then. I’ll talk to him about it once I’m home, and I’ll have Chris call you with the details.”

  “O-okay, great. Thank you, Mrs. Scott,” I say, getting out of the truck.

  “No thanks needed.” She watches me walk to the door of the Barrow. “Have a good workday, Lisa!”

  I wave as she leaves and smile before hurrying inside. Today is looking a whole lot better than it started.

  STAYING AT GIA’S house felt like being on vacation from my sucky, boring, micro-managed life. She didn’t have much in her fridge, but she had junk food and a lot of it. By eleven in the morning, I was on a complete sugar high. Gummy bears, licorice, potato chips, and soda was my meal of choice. If Mom knew what I was eating and what Gia’s cupboard looked like, she’d have a complete meltdown. I always knew my sister loved candy from the packs of M&M’s I used to find in her room. While most parents had to worry about their kids hiding porno mags and drugs, Gia hid candy. She ate so much of it I have no idea how she’s never had a cavity.

  After my sugar binge in front of the TV, I manage to spill Pepsi all over myself while dancing with Madonna and turning her solo into a duet, singing “Like a Virgin” with a bottle of Pepsi in my hand. I take off my shirt and wipe up the brown liquid spreading across her hardwood floor, thanking God Gia doesn’t have carpet. I grab a pair of jeans, an oversized shirt, and underwear out my bag, take a towel from Gia’s linen closet, and turn on Gia’s shower. Gia’s stereo helps me finish off my serenade while I clean up.

  God, this is the life. Own house away from annoying moms, school with sophisticated people doing sophisticated things, no curfew, no rules—just living. Gia is living the life, and for a day or two, I can pretend I’m living it as well. The only problem is being here alone in Gia’s apartment, living a little piece of her life, makes me realize I have no idea how the hell I would get here. Gia’s right, as always. I’ve kind of blown off school. My grades are okay but only because most of my classes are blow-off electives. I haven’t done a lot of homework, but since I work when I’m in class and I’m a pretty good test-taker, my grade point average is a low B. I haven’t applied to any schools since there’s nothing I see myself wanting to sp
end the rest of my life doing.

  Since we were kids, Gia loved playing courtroom. She’d always make me the bad guy while she asked me a bunch of questions and yelled at me like she saw in the movies we watched with Dad when Mom wasn’t around to tell him we were too young. Gia’s always had a plan, and now she’s about to finish her four years of college and start her dream of law school. As boring as it sounds to me, she’s doing something about her dream, and I admire that.

  Me, I don’t have a dream. Well, not a realistic one. I wish I could be one of Madonna’s backup dancers, but since my only talents are being able to sway my hips on beat and adding a sexy shimmy, I think the qualifications for that may be out of my league. I start to feel myself becoming too serious and depressed, so I sing even louder to the radio as I rinse out the shampoo in my hair.

  “Mind if I join you, babe?”

  Then I feel a hand cup my butt. When I turn around and he sees my face, “Oh shit,” is as far as he can get before I start screaming my head off and land an elbow in his eye.

  “Ouch!” he screams.

  I try to think of what to do first—run straight out of the house naked and covered in soap? Since he’s blocking my escape, I snatch the shower curtain down and cover myself with it.

  “Who the hell are you?” I shout.

  “Who are you!” he asks angrily, still holding the eye I elbowed.

  I stop a minute and think about why he would be asking who I am if he was a crazy serial rapist.

  “I’m sorry! I thought you were someone else!” he says, frantically covering his eyes, probably so he won’t see me.

  “Get out, get out, get out!” I shout, pushing him out of the bathroom.

  I slam the door behind him and try to calm my beating heart. I look around the bathroom which has water everywhere. The radio was knocked down by Mr. Grabby Hands, and I’ve ripped Gia’s shower curtain. Who was the guy, and how did he get in to feel me up in the freakin’ shower? Then it hits me—Gia’s promise ring guy. It had to have been him. He thought I was Gia. Ugh, I just . . . it doesn’t seem like Gia to give a guy a key to her apartment. She must really be into him, and I’ve elbowed in the eye the man who could be my future brother-in-law. Things like this would only happen to me.

  I drop the shower curtain from around me and grab my towel and wrap it tightly around me. I crack the door. “Ugh, William? You out there? ” I don’t hear a response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were,” I say with an embarrassed laugh.

  I step out cautiously and look around the house. After I do a sweep through the whole place, I determine William has gotten the hell out of Dodge.

  When Gia gets home, she can’t help but burst into laughter as I tell her what happened. Turns out she heard the story when William showed up at her class immediately after running out of here.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen. I should have told you William has a key. He thought you were me.” She continues to laugh.

  I’m glad she finds it funny. I hadn’t known how she was going to react, so I laugh along with her. “Obviously he did.”

  “I was going to meet him at work and tell him you were staying here for the weekend, but he came here to take a nap and thought . . . well I’m so glad you didn’t give him a concussion,” she says.

  “Is his eye okay?” I ask sheepishly.

  “A little red, but he’s a big boy. He’ll survive.”

  “I feel so bad. All he was trying to do was get a little nookie from his girlfriend, and I nearly blinded him,” I tease her, and her face turns bright red. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed over. You’re a grown woman.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” she says, so obviously embarrassed.

  “You’re my big sister. You should be able to talk to me about these things, give me advice,” I say jokingly.

  “Advice? The all-knowing womanly sex guru needs my advice?”

  I roll my eyes at her. I’m really all talk. The only guy who has gotten past second base with me yet is Zach, and he’s far from rounding home.

  “Besides, William knew he wasn’t getting any nookie,” she says, pulling me up from the couch and pushing me toward the kitchen.

  “What, you tell him when you’re on your period or something?” I ask.

  “No,” she says, looking almost more embarrassed of that than when I said nookie. “It’s because we haven’t had sex yet.”

  She sits at the table, and my eyes almost bulge out of my head.

  “He’s proposed to you before you’ve had sex?” Well, I shouldn’t be so surprised. If any woman could get a man to propose before letting him round her playing field, it would be Gia. “He must be ugly,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You didn’t see him?” she asks.

  I start to prepare all the things I need to make the lasagna. Gia picked up all the things I needed after her class. “No, I didn’t take time to get a good look at the guy I thought was a crazy psycho who’d broken in your house.”

  “Oh yeah.” She giggles.

  “I feel kind of bad though,” I admit.

  “He shouldn’t have been sneaking in on me in the shower anyway,” she says.

  She gets up to try to help, but I wave her away. Gia is a terrible cook—I guess no one is really perfect.

  “So what about you? Any special guys in your life?” She leans on the counter near me as I shred the cheeses.

  “Not really.” I shrug.

  “Who’s the Zach guy you mentioned earlier?” she says, surprising me. I only mentioned him once, but of course she’s incredibly astute.

  “I wouldn’t call Zach special.”

  She looks at me in disbelief.

  “Well, actually, that’s wrong. Zach is a special kind of crazy, so in that way, yes, he’s very special to me,” I tell her.

  “You like him,” she says teasingly.

  “I don’t dislike him.” I laugh, and she raises her eyebrows at me. “Fine, I like to make out with him. I like to make fun of him. I like to smoke—”

  Gia throws up her hands to stop me, and I giggle at her.

  “Mom never mentioned him,” she says.

  “I’m sure she did since he’s the guy who’s sort of the reason for all of this.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oooh, that guy. He must be really cute for you to do something so stupid with him.”

  I ignore the insult. “He is.”

  “But you don’t have feelings for him?” she asks.

  “No. Not really. I mean, if something happened to him, I’d be sad. But I think we’re just friends who make out because, well, we don’t have anything better to do.”

  “I’m sure you both could manage to find something better to do, but you choose to do that with each other,” she says, her tone right in the middle between optimistic and disapproving. “But I don’t think you should waste time being with someone you don’t love. Especially in that away. And I wish you could find a guy who would take you on a nice date, who encourages you to be a better person instead of inspiring you to do things that are detrimental.”

  “Zach doesn’t inspire me to do anything I don’t want to do,” I say defensively. “Why can’t you and Mother understand that I can make completely bad decisions entirely on my own?” I stick my tongue out at her.

  “So you admit that what you’re doing is completely ridiculous and self-destructive,” Gia says, and she’s got me.

  “Go watch TV or something until I finish,” I say, waving her out of the kitchen.

  I’m halfway done making dinner when the phone rings, and Gia bounces over to it from the living room.

  “Hey, babe. I’m not doing anything, just watching TV. Gwen’s making lasagna. No, she’s not easily embarrassed. We’d love to have you come over. I’m sure she wants to grill your intentions for me.” She giggles into the phone.

  Oh no, she’s inviting him over. God, I was hoping to have some more time between seeing him again after the awkward “You saw me naked and I punched you in the eye” scena
rio.

  “Great, see you in a few.” She hangs up the phone. “William will be here soon. Turns out he was able to get off early tonight!”

  “Great,” I say with fake enthusiasm.

  “Come on, I know you’re over what happened earlier,” she says.

  “I was hoping to at least sleep on it, but hey, whatever,” I say sarcastically.

  “Since when did you become such a delicate flower?” she jokes.

  I can’t help but laugh. This William guy must really make her happy because she hasn’t been this jovial since our dad passed away.

  “I’m fine with it, really. I guess it was better me being in the shower than on the toilet.” I shrug.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him, you know, the normal way this time,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “I’m going to go hop in the shower and freshen up.”

  My sister seems almost giddy. What in the world is going on?

  “Okay,” I say enthusiastically.

  I CHECK ON the lasagna as it’s baking—it’s almost done, maybe ten more minutes—as its delicious aroma wafts throughout the house. I love cooking. I haven’t done it in a while though, and it feels good to be in the kitchen again. My dad taught me how to cook. I remember being five years old, playing with dough in the kitchen as he made up some concoction. I’m good, but compared to my dad, I have a long way to go. With his imagination and creativity, he could have been a five-star chef in any city, but he chose the small town in Michigan where our little family grew and thrived for a while. I’m pulled from my thoughts by the ringing doorbell.

  “Gia, your beau’s here,” I yell jokingly toward her room.

  “He has a key. He’s only ringing for your benefit. Get it for me? I’ll only be a few more minutes,” she calls back.

  Ugh. I walk toward the door and tell myself that it’d only be awkward if I cared what this guy thought of me. I haven’t cared what anyone thought of me for a long time, and he’s here to impress me, not the other way around. I’m the first member of Gia’s family he’s meeting, and I’m sure he wants us to think well of him. I open the door, and he’s facing the other way. He’s tall, maybe six feet. He has on a jean jacket and matching pants and a baseball cap. I’m a little surprised. I would have assumed Gia’s guy would have on a three-piece suit or something.