Poked

by Naomi Niles

  “Somethin’ about Carlotta always rubbed me the wrong way,” said Curtis, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve never in my life met anyone who was both so pretentious and so dumb. Most people pick one or the other.”

  “I admit I probably made a mistake going out with her. But I think you’ll like Penny. It’s hard to imagine a woman more different from Carlotta. She’s not wealthy and doesn’t have any aspirations to be, but she works hard, and she’s smarter than she gives herself credit for. She reads and writes a lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day she was a published author.”

  “That all sounds great, Darren,” said Mama, smiling warmly. “I like the tone of pride in your voice when you talk about her.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you never talked about Carlotta that way. You always treated her like an embarrassment, like an unfortunate affliction that had to be suffered for the greater good.”

  I took a sip of my orange juice and glanced through the window into the back pasture. It was a clear, cloudless morning, and the dogs ran joyously together. “I think in my heart I always knew she was no good for me. But that’s hard to admit when you’re already dating. It’s easier just to shut your eyes and pretend you don’t see the obvious problems.”

  “I think we’ve all had a relationship like that,” said Curtis, scooping some more onions onto his plate. “I think there’s a grace period when you’re young where you can make those kinds of mistakes. But after a certain point, you’ve got to grow up and settle down.”

  I had an odd feeling Curtis was talking to himself as much as anyone else; his early twenties had been notoriously reckless. “It’s actually kind of liberating dating a mature, responsible woman,” I replied. “Not that she doesn’t have her own issues, but she’s a shining beacon of sense and sanity compared to my last girlfriend. I can take her out in public without worrying that she’ll embarrass me. With Carlotta, it felt like I had to watch her at all times or she might steal all my money and head south.”

  “I think we all had that feeling when it came to Carlotta,” said Mama. “I didn’t like the way she kept fingering my vases when you brought her over here. It was like she was planning to sell them on eBay.”

  “I remember her complaining that you seemed to be watching her the entire time,” I said with a laugh. “Looking back on it, I can’t say I really blame you. She was always engaged in some shady business or other. She’ll probably end up in prison by the age of thirty.”

  “And you know, that might not be the worst thing,” said Curtis.

  Just then Dad came walking out of the back room wearing his gray tweed vest and herringbone flat cap. “Y’all need to hurry up and finish. After breakfast, we’re going out to the pond.”

  “Are we going fishing?” I asked

  Dad laughed in a manner that didn’t leave me very hopeful. “No, some of the planks on the dock are loose, and they need to be nailed down again.”

  Curtis groaned while I just rolled my eyes. “You wanna know something funny? This morning when I got out of bed, I almost put on my work boots. But then I said to myself, ‘You know what? I don’t need to wear these; I’m only going over to Mom and Dad’s house.’”

  “Well, you should’ve obeyed your first instinct,” Dad said, opening up the back door and letting a blast of warm air in. “I’ll meet y’all out there in a few minutes.”

  “He’ll meet you out there,” muttered Curtis, before downing the last of his juice.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Penny

  I don’t think Darren entirely realized what it did to me when we slept together.

  I couldn’t sleep much after I got home that night because I kept thinking of the look in his eyes when he lifted my chin and kissed me. I wanted to believe the promises he had whispered in the heat of passion. But I feared that eventually he would tire of our relationship and abandon me as Liam had. He didn’t seem to realize that what I was saying to him with my body was that I loved him and would never leave him unless he wanted me to. I would be faithful to him forever, for as long as he would have me.

  I stayed up at the window for a couple of hours watching the stars burn holes in the night. Somehow, I doubted that Darren had had trouble sleeping that night. He hadn’t stayed up wondering whether this relationship would flame out after a few months, or whether we would get married and live in a house of our own. He wasn’t agonizing over what we would name our kids, if we had any. His pillow was dry, and his dreams were untroubled.

  I envied him.

  I couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard I tried. At around 4:00am when I knew there was no hope of my getting to sleep that night, I put on a Taylor Swift album and danced. I danced for the husband I wanted and the children we might have had. I danced for the hope of a future where all the troubles of the present were forgotten. I was so tired and sore already, but I didn’t care. Caught up in the rhythm and the music, I hardly felt it. I sang as loud as I dared and danced, danced, danced.

  I didn’t see Darren again for the rest of the week, and by Friday I was panicking. Nic must have sensed my distress, for she asked me about it over breakfast at Waffle House.

  “Are you doing okay?” she asked. “You’ve barely spoken more than three words since we sat down.”

  “I’m alright,” I replied. I turned my eyes to the window, on the other side of which a light rain was falling. “I just get scared when I haven’t heard from someone in a few days.”

  “Has he spoken to you at all since Friday night?” I shook my head. “Have you tried texting him?”

  “I’ve been waiting, sort of hoping he would text me. I like it when he texts me first. It makes me feel like he really cares about me.”

  Nic glanced around and lowered her voice. “Didn’t he sleep with you on Friday?”

  I shrugged. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean much if he doesn’t follow up. How would you like it if a boy wanted to sleep with you but would never talk to you?”

  “It happens sometimes,” said Nic, blushing furiously.

  “Maybe it does. But I don’t want to date one of those boys. I thought Darren was better than that. Sometimes I think we ought to ban men.”

  We were silent for a moment while Nic studied me curiously. “There’s something so different about you lately,” she said. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

  I brushed my hair back, feeling suddenly shy. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re colder somehow, and there’s no emotion in your voice. You remind me of a woman who’s just gone through a nasty breakup and wants to burn down the world.”

  I smiled at the exaggerated image. “Maybe not the whole world,” I said quietly and took a sip of my tea.

  “Anyway, I hope you haven’t given up on Darren yet. At least text him before you decide the relationship is over and begin to plan your revenge.”

  This was so funny to me that I nearly choked on my drink. “I love how you think I’m some kind of deranged, vengeful woman. If he decides to bail, there’s not much I can do about it. I’ve never been a really resentful person. When I feel betrayed or abandoned by someone, I’m more likely to turn inward and blame myself and spend the next eight months in a haze of depression.”

  “I can see that,” said Nic.

  “It’s happened before. I won’t even bother putting on makeup. I’ll wear my glasses for thirty days in a row instead of putting in my contacts. I’ll get in my car and drive out to my secret place and rest my head on the steering wheel and just cry for hours. But I won’t want to get revenge on the other person. I’ll just want them to come home.”

  Nic seemed to be growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She cast her eyes down on her plate and began to play with her fork. “Hey, how’s your dad doing?”

  “He’s doing okay,” I replied. “Things have been fairly up and down this week. This morning, he was telling me stories from when I was born—how he brought me home from the hospital on th
e same day Mom was laid in the ground. He doesn’t seem as bitter about it as he used to. Lately, he’s been talking a lot about the old days. I think maybe he senses that we’re about to lose each other, in one way or the other.”

  “Maybe so.” Nic shoved her plate away. “It’s weird how the passage of time can make us nostalgic for the most miserable times in our lives.”

  “Who knows?” I said with a sad smile. “Maybe someday we’ll even look back fondly on this.”

  We left Waffle House and drove to work through the rainy streets. A thin layer of mist hung over the fields like a blanket of low-lying cloud. I wasn’t looking forward to going and sitting behind a desk all day. Recently work bored me, and I spent the whole day watching the clock, counting the hours until I could go home and work on my book where love was taking shape and evil was being defeated.

  During the first few days of that week, I had glanced up with a hopeful feeling whenever the doors opened. But it was never Darren, and by now I had given up hope. So when he strode up to the counter at noon, boyishly grinning, and slapped down a jar of double Dutch dark chocolate mix, I stared in surprise.

  “What is this for?” I asked. “Are you just showing me?”

  “No, silly,” Darren said with a laugh. “I bought it for you. I know how much you love double Dutch dark chocolate and figured you might like to have some for your cocoa in the mornings.”

  Part of me wanted to fling it back at him for ignoring me all week, but I felt my heart swayed by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “Thank you.” I took it gingerly in both hands and placed it beside my purse. “I’ll drink it every morning and think of you.”

  Darren smiled, looking rather pleased with himself. “Anyway, I’d been looking for an excuse to come visit you all week. But I figured if I just walked in without a reason, you’d think I was being a creeper.”

  “Oh, Darren.” I could feel all the anger and self-protective hardness of the last few days melting away. Reaching across the counter, I touched his cheek lightly. “You know I don’t care if you come in just to see me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Hey, by the way! Dickie and I are going fishing tomorrow afternoon if you want to come.”

  After feeling ignored by him all week, it was a relief to be invited out. “Sure, I would love to! Provided that Nic can come also.”

  Nic shook her head furiously, but Darren and I both ignored her. “Well, cool!” said Darren, looking faintly surprised. “I guess I’ll meet y’all tomorrow at the shop at around noon.”

  “Do we need to bring anything?” I asked, studiously avoiding Nic’s look of exasperation.

  “Just your selves and your fishing gear. See you then.” He gave a salute, then turned and walked out the door into the rain.

  I knew Nic’s freak-out would be epic, and she did not disappoint. “What were you thinking? What if I had had plans for tomorrow afternoon? Or tomorrow noon?”

  “Nic, when have you ever had plans before midnight?”

  Nic wanted to argue, but even she had to concede the fairness of this. “Anyway, fishing is about the most boring activity they could have possibly picked. I’ve just been drafting into spending my weekend doing the only thing duller than golf.”

  “It might not be so bad,” I said. “You might even catch something.”

  “If I catch anything other than a cold, I’ll consider it a win,” said Nic before returning to her inventory.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Darren

  I could never quite put my finger on why, but for some reason, Nic always irritated me. Maybe because of the way she treated Penny, like she was a child who needed her guidance. She was snobbish and condescending, and she never hesitated to make fun of Penny to her face.

  “I can’t believe no one ever asks you for your ID when we come here,” Nic said on the night we went to a club. “You’d think the bouncers would be interested in the fact that a twelve-year-old is trying to sneak in.”

  “It’s not sneaking if I do it out in the open,” said Penny. “And I’m not twelve; I’m considerably older than that.”

  “No one would know that just by looking at you, hon,” Nic replied. She smirked at me as though expecting me to laugh, but I just shook my head in annoyance.

  Wanting to defend my girlfriend, I said, “I think if you look hard enough, you can sort of tell that she’s in her twenties. When she wears her glasses, she looks about ten years older.”

  “I guess,” Nic muttered under her breath. “Just don’t let them see your coloring books.”

  She had intended it as a joke between me and her, but it fell flat when I didn’t laugh. She was always joking with other people about how dumb or naïve or childish Penny was. Sometimes she even did it in front of Penny, trusting that the joke would go over her head. I suspected that it hurt Penny more than she let on. But she was Penny’s best friend, so I hadn’t made a huge deal out of it.

  “If you dislike her that much, then maybe you shouldn’t have invited her in the first place,” said Dickie as we waited in the garage the next morning. The sky over us was gray and overcast.

  “Perhaps not, but it was important to Penny that she get to come. She gets shy around those she doesn’t know very well, and it helps to have her best friend there for support. When they’re together, she opens up more.”

  “Do you think we could get her to drink?”

  “Doubtful. Penny isn’t much of a drinker.”

  “Too bad. I think it would be fun to get her drunk.”

  “Yeah, but she already acts drunk most of the time,” I pointed out. “If we managed to put a couple glasses of whiskey in her belly, she would probably calm down and become the most normal person.”

  Just then there was a screech of tires, and the two girls pulled up in Nic’s red convertible. Nic was wearing chic sunglasses and a dark blue tank top while Penny wore a light blue “Little Miss Sunshine” t-shirt, still combing her hair.

  “Hey boys,” said Nic. “You ready for this?”

  “Did you bring your fishing rods?” asked Dickie. “There’s not gonna be a whole lot for you to do out there if you forgot those.”

  “They’re in the back.” She pointed lazily toward the trunk. “I tried to talk Penny into running by the store and picking up a few containers of light beer, but she wasn’t having it.”

  “Light beer is gross,” said Penny. “I would rather sit there and drink something that’s actually delicious, like mango juice or normal beer.”

  “Well, not to worry,” said Dickie. “We’ve got a whole cooler of drinks in the back of the pickup.”

  “Did you bring mango juice?”

  “I did not bring mango juice,” he said with a shake of his head, “but there’s light beer, regular beer, and some lemon-lime sports drink.”

  “Penny, if you drink all the beers by yourself, I will give you ten dollars,” said Nic.

  Penny shook her head resolutely. “You’d have to give me at least five hundred if you want me to drink all of them. And an additional fifty for each light beer, because those are gross.”

  We spent most of the ride up to the lake trying to get Penny to drink and speculating on how she would act if she did. “I just don’t see the point in putting something into my body that’s going to impair my judgment,” she said as we pulled up to the dock and climbed out. “Especially if there are boys around, because you can’t trust most boys.”

  “Hey now, that’s a little unfair to us,” I said, motioning to me and Dickie. “We wouldn’t try to pull anything if you were drunk.”

  “We might throw you into the water,” said Dickie.

  “Or just nudge you overboard a little.”

  “Or leave you alone in the boat in the middle of the lake and tell you to find your own way back to shore. But we wouldn’t, like, hurt you.”

  “See, this is why I don’t trust men,” said Nic loudly, walking up the dock with her fishing rod
slung over her shoulder. “Anytime there is an opportunity for mischief, they will take it.”

  “We ought to ban men,” said Penny.

  “But then who would you go fishing with?” I asked.

  “Nic and I could go fishing our own selves.”

  “How would the human race survive?” asked Dickie.

  “Oh, I’m not saying we need to ban all men,” said Nic, casting her line out into the murky waters. “Just the majority. Anyone who reads books, listens to Sufjan, and can quote at least one poem from memory gets to stay. The rest have to go live on an island.”

  “I think I could live with that,” said Penny with a dreamy look. “Get rid of all but the poets.”

  “Lord, I’m glad y’all aren’t in charge of things,” I said. “I don’t think I can quote a single poem from memory.”

  “Well, off to Bad Men Island with you,” said Nic, waving her hand regally.

  It was hard to tell the extent to which they were joking. I had a feeling Nic was being half-serious, and it annoyed me because I had never cared much for women who wanted to banish all men. Whenever they were together, Penny seemed to grow more combative and man-hating, and it was hard for me to tell whether this was her true self or just a pose she adopted when she was hanging out with her best friend.

  “Hey,” said Penny, dipping a toe in the water, “do you think this lake is safe to swim in? I kind of wish I had brought my swimsuit.”

  “I wouldn’t risk it, personally,” said Dickie. “There are no alligators that I know of, but you never know. I wouldn’t want you to jump in and get eaten, just because I said there were no alligators.”

  “I think we should do it,” said Nic, her eyes bright with mischief. “Penny, what say you?”

  I really didn’t think Penny would go for it, but to my surprise, she said, “I’ve always wanted to see a gator up close. Maybe he’ll let us ride on his back.”