Prove Me Wrong

by Tessa Marie

  “Maybe one day I’ll let you know.” He puts the controller down and smiles a big toothless grin. “Want to play again.”

  “So you can beat me again?”

  He nods his head smiling even bigger.

  “I have to go get CJ. Later?” I ask.

  “Don’t forget,” he says, pointing his finger at me.

  “I won’t.”

  It’s been a half hour, there’s no way CJ isn’t finished yet. My stomach growls so even if he isn’t done, I’m dragging him out. Wishful thinking because if he’s not done, Mrs. Johnston won’t let him leave. She always gives the white glove test, except her white gloves are purple floral gardening gloves.

  “Dude, what are you doing in here?” I say, pushing the door open, grateful to see his room clean. All of his t-shirts hang in the closet, his bed made and his schoolwork is neatly stacked in piles on his desk. The strong scent of Lysol lingers in the air. It’s up to Mrs. Johnston’s standards, so what is the hold up?

  He’s on his bed, his hands resting on a box in his lap. “I was putting my sneakers on the shelf in my closet when I found this.” He hands me the discolored shoe box. I know exactly what it is. Granted the colors have faded since the last time I saw it, and the edges are tattered, but I know what’s inside.

  CJ, Roxy, and I put it up there in ninth grade. We said we wouldn’t look in it until senior year. It was Roxy’s idea, of course. A total chick thing CJ and I went along with.

  “I was debating opening it. I mean we did say senior year, but Roxy isn’t here so it just seems wrong. Kinda like we should just throw it out and forget about it.”

  “No, screw that. It’s not our fault she turned into a mega bitch. I want to see what she wrote.”

  “I don’t know, Luke. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Fine, you don’t have to look if you don’t want to.” I take the box from CJ and place it on his desk. A layer of dust coats the lid, almost completely covering the Van’s label on top.

  As I lift the top, visions of that day pop into my head. It was ninth grade, just a month shy of when Roxy would turn to the dark side and ditch CJ and me forever. Roxy had just gotten into a huge fight with her parents and was blowing off steam. CJ’s parents were out for the night so CJ and I stole a bottle of Jack out of Mom’s liquor cabinet. It was easy for me to do since Mom never drank and the stuff had been sitting in the cabinet for years.

  I passed the bottle to CJ who took a swig then passed it to Roxy, who held her nose before taking a sip. She claimed it lessened the burn. I thought it just made her look like she was getting ready to jump into a pool.

  “I can’t believe them. Do they honestly think I’m going to wind up like them? Because I won’t. I’d rather drop dead than become them,” Roxy said as CJ rubbed her shoulder.

  “Sometimes you can’t help it. You get older and you just start conforming. It’s like what you’ve always known, so even if you know it’s not who you want to be it doesn’t matter. It’s like a vicious cycle. It’ll happen to you and then it’ll happen to your kids and so on and so on,” CJ said as he leaned his back up against his bed.

  Roxy stood, hands firmly planted on her hips. “No. Never!”

  “He’s right, Rox. It just happens. I’m going to do everything in my power not to be like my low life father, but who knows. Maybe it’s in our DNA; we just can’t avoid it.”

  “We’ll make a promise right now, no matter what, we won’t turn out like them.”

  “Do you think it matters?” CJ asked.

  “Yes, it does. I have an idea.” She walked over to CJ’s desk then came back with paper and pens. “Let’s each write a promise to ourselves that we will never wind up like our parents.”

  “I kind of like my parents.” CJ looked down at the bottle of Jack in his hands as if he was ashamed by his admission.

  “Of course you do,” Roxy said, a bit of a smile forming on her face. “Because you’re perfect.” She exchanged a shy glance with CJ, making me feel as if I was intruding on an intimate moment between the two of them.

  CJ darted his eyes away. “Far from it.”

  “Then for CJ’s sake, on top of swearing we’ll never become our parents we will also write down three things that you want to accomplish by senior year. That way we’ll be setting goals for our own reasons, and not for anyone else’s.”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking maybe the Jack hit her faster than me.

  “The catch is we put it away and don’t look at it till the end of senior year. That way we’ll A) see if we accomplished any of the goals and B) see if we stayed true to ourselves. Deal?”

  “Deal,” CJ said first. He’d go along with anything Roxy came up with.

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah sure. Deal.”

  Roxy had been quick to write her goals down, while CJ and I took a little longer. In the end CJ took his brand new Vans out of the box, Roxy took the letters and put them in an envelope then CJ placed the letters inside.

  I completely forgot about the box after CJ placed it on the top shelf of his closet. I can’t even remember what I wrote down that day. It was a ridiculous way to pretend we had a grasp on the outcome of our futures. When in reality we knew despite our reluctance one day we’d lose our fight. Like I said three years ago, it just happens. It’s inevitable.

  I swore I wouldn’t wind up like my father, but when it comes down to it, the way I treated Amanda, and other girls, doesn’t make me any better than him. Granted, I didn’t leave them after being married to them for years and fathering their child, but still I led them on.

  Then there’s Roxy. She became everything she swore she wouldn’t. I wonder if she even remembers about this informal pact and if she does, if she even cares.

  For reasons I cannot explain, I need to know what it was Roxy wrote down. Maybe to mock her and have it as ammunition, if butting heads ever came to an all-out war, or maybe because somewhere deep down I just want to see a piece of the Roxy I once knew.

  The envelope feels like lead in my hand, weighed down by years of anger, regret and disappointment. If only we could turn back time, and change things, but what exactly would I change? Inevitably Roxy would have turned against me, so I guess it was better not to prolong it.

  In black permanent marker staring back at me is Roxy’s bubbly handwriting. “Not to be opened until Senior Graduation!!!” is scribbled across both the front and back. Considering she’s already broke every promise she ever made, I disregard the warning on the front and slide my finger under the flap of the envelope.

  “I don’t want to know,” CJ says from beside me.

  “Why not?”

  “Because does it really matter? To me, Roxy doesn’t even exist anymore. In my mind she died when she came back from rehab and was replaced by her evil doppelganger. So to open this, to see what it is we wrote all those years ago, is just reopening old wounds.”

  I take a minute, pondering CJ’s words. He has a point. It’s easy to say what happened wasn’t a big deal because it was in the past, but in actuality it was. For months I was devastated, might have even cried about it a few times. Yet to this day I have never admitted it to anyone. CJ’s right, opening this envelope will only be pouring salt onto a wound that never quite healed for either of us.

  “Well, since the original three aren’t here, I guess you’re right. I won’t open it. However, since I doubt the original three will ever be here again I’ll dispose of it. It only seems fair.”

  “Agreed,” CJ says, putting his hand out to mine as if he needs a way to seal the deal. I shake on it and slide the envelope into my back pocket. Throwing it out leaves the possibility of it being discovered. I need to burn it, put it through a shredder, and destroy it completely.

  “Let’s head over to the pier before my stomach comes up through my mouth looking for food.”

  “That I’d pay money to see.”

  “You would, you sick bastard.”

  At the pier it’s the usual
suspects. Travis in the corner trying his hardest to get Sandra to pay attention to him, but she’s too caught up in whatever her friends are gossiping about. Russ is beside him, hitting on every girl who walks by, and Bobby is at the counter ordering.

  CJ and I make our way to Bobby. CJ gives him a swift punch to the shoulder, instantly grabbing his attention. At first he turns around as if he’s ready for a brawl, but once he spots us his stance relaxes.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Fucking starving that’s what’s going on.” I slide onto one of the stools.

  “Just ordered a burger myself. Was waiting for Travis and Russ but obviously they’re occupied. They’re like dogs in heat.”

  “Tell me about it.” I take a menu, as if I don’t know what I’m going to order. I’ve been coming here for as long as I can remember and I always get a bacon double cheeseburger with sliced avocado on a poppy seed bun with fries. At this point it should be named after me—The Luke Burger. No, the Luger with cheese. It kind of has a nice ring to it.

  CJ pulls up the chair next to Bobby then slides in and picks up a menu. CJ always orders the same thing too. However, he’ll stare at the menu for twenty minutes, contemplating trying something new. But he always winds up with a double bacon cheeseburger no onion, no pickles, extra ketchup with Cajun waffle fries. It never fails. Every single time.

  “Dude, you’re going to get your usual. Just order.”

  “No, I’m going to get something different this time.”

  “Sure you are.”

  The waitress, Kim, approaches. She’s worked here as long as I’ve been coming, if not longer. Her style hasn’t changed within that time either. She still wears her hair in one of those big ass hair things that, from what I’ve been told by several different girls, went out of style in 1995. Kinda like Russ’s haircut.

  Her pen always rests on her ear, yet I have never seen her use it. She remembers everybody’s order no matter how outlandish the special requests are, so when it comes to me and CJ we don’t need to tell her what it is we want. She humors CJ, but his food always comes out at the same time as mine and I’ve overheard her a few times placing his order before he’s even confirmed with her.

  “The usual?” I make out between her loud gum chewing.

  “Yup, and he’ll have the usual too.”

  “I figured as much.” She cracks her gum before walking towards the kitchen.

  “Hey, you ordered already?” CJ asks around Bobby.

  “I told you, I’m starving. I got yours too.”

  “What did you order me?”

  “Your usual?”

  “But I wanted to try something different today.”

  “I’m sure you did, but my stomach wasn’t waiting for you to decide.”

  “Okay, maybe next time.” CJ closes the menu and places it back down in front of him.

  “Order up.” The chef calls out through the kitchen window.

  Kim struts over in her red, come fuck me heels even though when I look at her that is the last thing I’m thinking. She drops Bobby’s plate in front of him before returning to her usual spot in the corner of the bar where she can survey the whole joint. If she spots a glass low on soda she jumps up to bring a refill, and as soon as a person takes the last bite of their food she’s at the tableside within seconds to bring them their check.

  Fingers creep up the back of my neck. If they were Hailey’s I’d have chills up and down my spine, but the smell of vanilla makes me cringe instead. Why won’t she get the hint? It’s not even like I can tell her I’m with Hailey since technically we’re still keeping it a semisecret.

  “What do you want, Amanda?” I say without budging a single bone in my body.

  “You, but you already know that.” She runs her hand down my arm like it’s going to suddenly turn me on. I shrug her off and try to ignore her. “Come on Lukey you know it’s not over.”

  “Yes, Amanda it is.”

  “Tell me Luke, what is it that she has that I don’t?” Amanda asks, obviously talking about Hailey. I can give her hundreds of examples, but I stick to one.

  “Class.”

  I’m expecting her to lash out, but instead there’s silence. I’m afraid to turn around because all I can picture is Amanda’s fist coming at my face. I decide it’s worth it. Maybe then she’ll finally move on. I turn slightly, trying to play it cool and casual. I’m not met with a fist. In fact I’m met with nothing at all. Amanda’s gone.

  I see her high-tailing past Russ into the woman’s room. Russ of course tries to intercept her before she gets there. He’s trying to act as if he’s honestly concerned about her, when he’s probably just trying to take advantage of the situation. She blows him off. I expected that, but what I don’t expect is the way Russ turns and looks at me as if I’m the scum I claim he is.

  Last night with Luke was perfect. Granted when he first showed up I was having a mini panic attack, but once he came in, and got to sort of meet Brady, I felt a little better. Even if he still thinks he’s my little brother. I hated to say goodbye to him. It was the first time in a long time I felt like a normal teenager.

  If I close my eyes I can still feel the press of his lips against mine, the soft feel of his hair between my fingers, and the scent of lemons and cedar. The thought alone sends chills up the back of my neck as if he just trailed his fingers across my skin. I wish.

  Mom has no clue Luke was here, and I’m going to keep it that way. It’ll only complicate things further. It’s not like she does it maliciously, my best interest is always in mind, but my best interest is never what I really want. I always want what I can’t have.

  With Brady on my hip, I go through my closet, looking for a pair of black pants and a white shirt—the dress code for Roxy’s parents’ event. Basically we’ll be dressed like the help. You think I would have decided on an outfit days ago, but between giving Brady baths, feeding him, catching up on homework, work, and spending time with Luke, I haven’t had a second to even think about it.

  Brady gets heavy in my arms so I set up a blanket on the floor, but the minute he’s out of my arms he starts crying. I grab a toy and wave it at him, but he cries even louder. He reaches his arms up to me.

  “Mama,” he cries, drool running down his chin.

  I want to fall on the floor and cry with him. Since I’ve been spending less time at home, he’s been so clingy whenever he’s with me.

  I grab a tissue and wipe his mouth. He turns his head, fighting me, and lets out a deafening scream. “All done,” I say when he’s clean. “Come here.” I pick him up and the crying stops. Thank God. I rest him on my other hip while I continue to search for an outfit.

  Mom should’ve been home by now. I need to get in the shower. I can’t show up to Roxy’s parents event—which will be attended by high class rich snobs—with unwashed hair because I’m sure they’ll notice. From what Luke has told me they aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.

  It takes me a couple seconds to realize the vibrations on my backside are coming from my cell. Last night I put it on vibrate so Becky wouldn’t call me in the middle of the night and wake Brady up.

  Mom flashes across the screen. I swipe the screen. “Mom, where are you?”

  “I’m stuck at work again. One of the nurses called off and I can’t leave until they get coverage.”

  “Seriously? Mom, you know I have that thing with Roxy today.”

  “Hailey, I know. What do you want me to do? Walk out and lose my job? Then who will pay the bills?”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed out. It’s been a long night and an even longer morning. I’ll do everything I can to get home, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Okay.” I try not to sound annoyed. Roxy asked me for help and I willingly agreed. I can’t back out, especially not at the last minute. I hang up the phone and Brady pulls my hair. “Ow. No pulling hair,” I say, and unravel t
he strands from his fingers.

  A part of me is happy I can stay home and give Brady the attention he obviously is craving, but the other part is pissed and frustrated.

  Not showering isn’t an option, but I can’t leave Brady out here by himself and the bathroom has too much for him to get into. He loves to play in the toilet, open the cabinets, and unravel the toilet paper. All of which he can do in the matter of me turning my back for a second.

  I go to the hall closet and grab his travel playpen. The bathroom’s just wide enough to set it up half in the bathroom, half in the hallway. Unfortunately it doesn’t leave much room to maneuver around. I smack my hip into the corner of the sink as I place Brady inside.

  His lip quivers, and I grab his T-Rex toy and push the button to make it roar. He laughs and takes it in his hand. Hopefully it’ll keep him occupied just long enough for me to wash my hair.

  By the time I rinse the shampoo out Brady has pressed the damn noise-making button a hundred times. It’s driving me crazy. Normally I can tune it out, lose myself in the sound of the water, but today I’m losing my mind. Note to self, remove batteries as soon as I’m dried off because if I have to listen to that all day I may scream.

  I’m able to wash and condition all in five minutes. I wrap a towel around me and make sure Brady is okay then check my cell.

  No missed calls, no text messages from Mom. This is not good. I can’t cancel on Roxy. For the past two weeks she’s been going over the guest list, telling me who not to bother with, and who to hit up to buy my whole lot of tickets.

  Since I still don’t know what I’m wearing I throw on a pair of gray wide legged sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Comfy clothes are always the best way to go, especially when I’m home with Brady. Besides if he drools on me, or spits up, it’s no big deal. Just take it off and toss it in the wash.

  The blanket is still set up from before so I place Brady down and sit beside him. He crawls until he’s pushed up against my leg. “What’s this, Brady?” I hold a plastic square from his shape sorter. “A square. Can you say square?” He takes the piece from my hand and starts banging it on the plastic box. He hasn’t quite grasped the concept yet, but we’re working on it.