SLOW BURN

by Christie, Nicole

  It’s fixed!

  I jump up and rush over to inspect it. He must’ve patched it, then painted that whole wall last night—you can tell, since it’s brighter and whiter than the other walls in the kitchen. It still smells like paint in here—that’s what I was smelling! How did Mom not notice? When did he do this? Last night, obviously. He just broke in, and did a little home improvement while I cried myself to sleep.

  My heart tries to melt, just a little. Then my brain reminds it of Johnny and that girl in the laundry room. Way to go, Brain.

  Stupid spin cycle.

  ******

  Chapter 6

  Once the laundry’s done, I fold it and put it away. I can’t help but glance out the window to see if Johnny’s still there. He’s not, and his truck is gone. I’m relieved, and also slightly disappointed. Shaking my head, I head upstairs to my room to get ready to spend the night at my dad’s.

  I forgot to text Heather! She’s going to be pissed. While I pack my bag, I call her up and fill her in on all the drama she missed.

  Why did I wait so long to call her? Her profanity-laced rant against Laundry Room Girl, Johnny—and guys in general—brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face.

  “Oh, my god, Jule,” Heather says, after she finally takes a breath. “I never told you this before, but—I know people. People who can make accidents happen. Know what I mean?”

  “No, I don’t.” I switch her to speaker phone, and start rifling through my drawers for a sleep shirt. “And how do you know these people?”

  “My uncle—Josiah? I don’t know if you’ve ever met him. He works for these guys, and…anyway, I could call him. Johnny can kiss his NFL career goodbye,” she says seriously.

  “What? No. Don’t call anybody.” I let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s done, we’re over. I don’t want revenge, I just want to get over him.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Heather hums wisely. “You know, they say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be about the worst thing I could do,” I say wryly, pushing my hair back. “I think I’m going to give up boys for a while—maybe forever.”

  “Aw! I always knew you’d make a great lesbian!”

  “Thanks. Look, I have to go. Call you later, okay?”

  “Yeah, you’d better.”

  Shaking my head, I hang up with her. I scoop up my backpack and a jacket and after a quick goodbye to Mom, I’m running out the front door.

  And tripping over something on the porch. I land on my face, of course.

  “Ouch.”

  Rolling over painfully, I sit up to see what could have made me fall. My eyes land on the huge bouquet of roses, and the giant teddy bear—wearing my former sleep shirt—lying in front of the door. Unbelievable.

  Groaning quietly, I quickly scan the street for any signs of Johnny trying to slink away after nearly killing me. All I see is the old lady next from next door, standing on the lawn with her fluffy gray cat. They both stare at me like I’m a dog crapping in their yard.

  I rise to my feet and dump the roses and the giant bear in the trash can. The stuffed bear barely fits, so I have to smoosh it in there. Pathetic, Johnny. Because nothing says I’m sorry I cheated on you like roses and a stuffed animal.

  Sigh.

  Dad lives one town over, in Hidden Cove. He rents an apartment over Nico’s Pizzeria, and consequently, the whole place always smells like bread and pizza sauce. I can gain weight just by inhaling. Weirdly, it always makes me hungry for tacos.

  Dad and I used to get along great. He’s pretty funny, and he used to make me laugh with his dorky sense of humor. Now…

  Now we make awkward conversation, at best. When he can’t think of anything to say, he asks about Mom. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “She’s as miserable as you are, dumbass!” Of course I’d never call him a dumbass. Not to his face.

  He’s doing a little better than she is—having been on at least a few dates since the divorce six and a half years ago. Of course the women he’s gone out with—not the cream of the crop. My dad’s a good-looking guy, and he can be kind of charming in his own clueless way. I know he can do better. The last woman he dated was three hundred and twenty five pounds (don’t ask me how I know), and sold sweaters made out of cat fur on the internet. She made one for me—a sweater, that is. Mirella said she used the fur of her two favorite cats, Tinkles and Cooter, to knit it. It was a nice gesture, and I really did try to appreciate it—but I couldn’t go near the sweater without dry-gagging.

  It smelled like musty cat. She did, too, come to think of it.

  So, basically, the weekends consist of Dad and I sitting around the table, eating pizza, and trying to fill the uncomfortable silences with meaningless chitchat. He’s my father, and I love him, but sometimes being with him is pure torture.

  The highlight of my visits is when Michelle comes to get me. She’s my dad’s baby sister, but she’s more like a cool older sister to me than an aunt. We go shopping, to the movies—anywhere I want to go. I’m not sure why, but I act more like a teenager with Michelle than I do with friends my own age.

  “My favorite niece!” Michelle exclaims, letting herself into the apartment. “Are you ready to go shopping with your favorite aunt?”

  “God, yes!” I lunge forward. Then, composing myself, I turn back to Dad. “Um, is that okay? I could stay—”

  “No, no, it’s fine!” He tries not to look relieved. “Go have fun. Do you need money? I could give you my credit card…” He fumbles in his back pocket for his wallet.

  “Dad, it’s okay. I have money. Thank you, though.”

  He nods vaguely. “You girls have fun.”

  Michelle rolls her eyes at him. “Bye, Dan.”

  As soon as we get into her cute little convertible, Michelle turns to me. “Okay, spill. What’s up with you? And don’t tell me nothing, girl. I know that look on your face.”

  I take a deep breath, and let it out in a slow controlled hiss. “First…let’s get lunch. Anything but pizza. Chinese sounds good. I could go for some pot stickers.”

  “Okay.” Michelle fastens her seatbelt and flashes me a smile. “Chinese, it is.”

  We end up at one of her favorite restaurants in town, The Lotus Garden. It’s great—unapologetically gaudy, with Buddha statues everywhere, and gold tassels hanging from the ripped paper lanterns above our heads.

  I wrap my hands around the tea cup, savoring its warmth, and blurt out the now over told tale of How Johnny Cheated on Juliet and Broke her Little Virgin Heart. It’s the edited version, of course. Some things I’m just not willing to share, even with my super cool aunt.

  “And now I’m stuck going to Leclare on Monday,” I conclude with a sigh.

  “Wow.”

  Michelle sits back in her seat, shaking her head. She takes the sunglasses that are sitting on top of her head, and sticks it in her purse, shaking back her curly brown hair. “Do you think they were really having sex in there?”

  I grimace, looking down at my tea. “I don’t know. He says no, and it’s not like I looked closely, you know? But whether he did or didn’t, he still cheated on me, so…it’s over.”

  I choke back a sob, and try to turn it into a cough. Michelle’s not fooled. She reaches over and pats my shoulder.

  “Oh, Juliet. All the things I want to tell you are the things my mom said to me when I was your age and got dumped by a guy. But I remember wanting to throw my Coke in her face when she said them, so I’m not going to do that to you. Not when you have hot tea.”

  A chuckle escapes me. “It’s lukewarm now. But—just tell me one thing, okay—no matter how lame. I think I need to hear it. Just one, though.”

  She smiles sympathetically. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s trite, but true. Shoot, I thought my boyfriend in senior year was the love of my life—now I can’t even remember his name. Greg or Craig. And he was my first.”

  I almost feel horrified for
her. “You can’t remember his name?”

  Michelle throws a fortune cookie at me. “Hey, that was—shit, almost twenty years ago! And it wasn’t that great an experience, you know? Oh, well, I guess you don’t know yet. But you will. Hey, I guess I do have some advice for you: don’t have sex in high school!” She points her chopsticks at me for emphasis.

  I make a face at her. “Okay…”

  “No, seriously. Aside from the obvious reasons—you’re too young, teen pregnancy, stds, blah, blah, blah—wait until you’re older, and the guy is older and more experienced. Your first time is going to suck, anyway.” She laughs like she said something funny. “But if you’re with a guy who knows what he’s doing, and is patient—then it can be an…eh…okay experience. High school guys, though—zero patience and horny as hell.”

  “Hm,” I say, not exactly agreeing.

  “The worst thing?” she mumbles through a mouthful of noodles. “Their egos are more fragile. So, not only do you have to suffer through these painful techniques they learned from watching porn—you have to pretend to like it, or they get all butt hurt on you.”

  She’s nodding at me wisely right now, chewing her noodles and looking kind of proud at having shared her insights with me.

  “Wow,” I say, my appetite suddenly gone. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do with that. Thank you, though. For the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Seriously though. I’m so sorry, Juliet,” Michelle says sympathetically. “I know how you felt about him. But you’re going to get through this, okay? And—I hate to say this—but maybe it’s for the best.”

  My brow furrows in consternation. “I said tell me one thing, Michelle. Something else I wouldn’t mind hearing? ‘You’ll learn to love again.’ But ‘it’s for the best?’ That’s like, the shittiest thing you could say!”

  Michelle smiles apologetically, but her gaze is pitiless. “You told me yourself—the two of you were fighting more often than not, and you said his possessiveness was driving you crazy.”

  “Yeah, we were a mess, but I loved it.” I sigh, slumping back into the cracked red vinyl of the booth. “The drama, the passion…it made me feel a part of something special. Like, here’s this gorgeous amazing guy, and he’s totally obsessed with me. That means there has to be something out of the ordinary about me, right? Something special.”

  Michelle lets her head fall into her hands. “Lord help me, and the misguided teens of the world,” is what I think she mutters. “When did being dysfunctional become sexy? Yanni, the janitor at my office? He tells me he’s in love with me every day. He leaves melted Hershey’s Kisses in my chair, and collects every strand of hair that has fallen out of my head at my desk for the past five years. He made a doll out of it—don’t laugh, it’s not funny. He’s fifty and balding—and he would kill for me. Does that sound sexy to you?”

  “Oh, Michelle,” I say. “That’s like comparing apples to…pig turd. The question is—are you going to report him?”

  “Hell, no. He makes me feel special.”

  We look at each other, then burst out laughing. It’s exactly the kind of release I need. Afterwards, I prop my chin on my hand, and smile at my aunt. “Does Uncle Derek know about your secret admirer?”

  “Mmph. Uh-huh.” She fans her face after taking a big bite of her spicy chicken. “Every time Derek visits me at the office, Yanni stands there and glares at him, and mumbles what I’m pretty sure are curses in his native tongue. It’s like you say—kinda scary, but kinda hot.”

  “So not hot. Speaking of not hot, you have some sauce on your chin—left…down—you got it. So, how’s Uncle Derek? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  Michelle wipes her mouth with a napkin, smearing her lipstick a little. “Yeah, he’s been busy at work. I haven’t seen too much of him either, truthfully. I think he’s avoiding me, and the whole baby issue. We’ve been fighting. A lot.”

  It’s my turn to give her sympathy. Michelle and Derek have been trying for six years to have a baby. Obviously, something’s wrong. But Michelle wants to conceive naturally, believing that if it’s meant to be, then nature will take its course. Derek, on the other hand, is all for medical intervention. Both desperately want a baby. I feel so bad. They would make wonderful parents.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It really sucks that you guys have to go through this.”

  “It’s okay,” she says, trying to wave off her sadness. “Anyway…you know what I think? Making a baby should be hard—it should be heartbreaking, and something you have to work for…because when it happens, then it truly feels like a miracle. Maybe if making babies weren’t so easy for most people, then there wouldn’t be all these neglected children in the world. When I finally get to hold that baby in my arms—man, I swear I will always treasure him or her.”

  My heart is so heavy for her. But hearing her say something like that—it helps put things into perspective for me. Me and my problems do not make up the universe—we are just a tiny speck in a world full of possibilities. And hope. As long as you’re alive, there is always hope. That’s what I see in Michelle’s eyes right now. And I’m so proud of her, proud to call her my au—

  Blaaarp!!!

  “Excuse me,” Michelle mutters, covering her mouth. “Whoa, that was some spicy chicken! Uh, I think we’d better go. Yeah, let’s go.”

  I quickly throw down a twenty, not daring to look up. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

  Later, when she’s dropping off me at the apartment, I swing my legs out of the car, but I turn back to face her. “She still loves him, you know?” I confide.

  Michelle nods, unsurprised. “And he still loves her. But, sometimes, it isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if the person you’re with makes you happy enough to forgive the misery they’ve caused.”

  Johnny, eyes full of apologies…

  Acid boils in my stomach. I step out of the car onto the sidewalk. “Some things can’t be forgiven,” I say bitterly.

  ******

  Chapter 7

  I wish I could say I spent the weekend in an empowered state of mind, but I would be totally lying. I spend all of Saturday singing songs about love and heartbreak, at the top of my lungs, while crying my eyes out. I freak my dad out so bad that he locks himself in his room for the rest of the night. I also have to physically restrain myself from going to Johnny’s online profile, and checking to see if Laundry Room Girl is on his friends list. Instead of giving in to that dumb urge, I unfriend him. I’m not going to stalk him online—I’m going to try my hardest not to, anyway.

  Sunday is awful. Johnny breaks my heart over and over again by refusing to leave me alone once I’m back from my dad’s. He camps out on my front porch and says he won’t budge until I forgive him. He’s drunk. I have to call Nick and Mack to come get him before the police show up. It’s completely mortifying. He shouts my name over and over as they drag him away. Part of me cringes at the angst and the drama—the bigger part of me is like, “Yeah, your ass better be out there screaming my name!” I am so twisted.

  I honestly don’t know how I’m going to handle seeing him at school tomorrow. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to suck.

  I cannot go to school today—there are rabid bats loose in my stomach. I’m going to be sick.

  My phone starts jangling with Heather’s kooky ringtone. I reluctantly reach for it.

  “Get your ass out of bed!” she bellows before I can say a word.

  “No!” I snap, throwing my blanket over my head. “I have to stay home. Something’s wrong with me.”

  “Yeah, you’re a big baby. You’re going.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Don’t make me come over there and drag you out by your hair,” Heather threatens. “Come on, Juliet! Have some pride.”

  “Ugh!” I flip the covers off of me. “Fine! I’m getting up. Happy?”

  “Thrilled.” Her cheerful laughter makes me want to stab something. “Text me later, ‘kay?
”

  “Sure. Have a terrible day at school.”

  “Back at you. Love you!”

  “Gr.”

  I hate when she’s right. I stumble into bed and head straight for the shower. I love my showers. I could stand there all day, shutting out the rest of the world. I don’t even care if I get all prune-y.

  Finally, reluctantly, I get out and dry off. I stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, and stare resolutely at my reflection.

  “You’re single now,” I tell myself. “But that’s okay—you’ve been single for most of your life. You’ll be fine. But why did you have to change schools, you stupid, stupid cow?”

  I smack my forehead into the glass for good measure, and then I have to laugh at myself through the pain. I was so looking forward to this day, and now…I just want it to be over with.

  I choose pretty underwear, just because. The Leclare uniform is actually cute. Since it’s warm weather, I have a choice between the polo shirt and the shirt and blazer. I slip on the blue polo with the Leclare crest, and the pleated charcoal gray skirt that goes with it. It looks good on me, and I’m relieved. I pull my hair back with a hair band, and put on a little more makeup than usual. Depending on how I apply it, I can either be the picture of innocence, or the slutty school girl. I go for the slutty school girl. It could be a mistake. Yeah, it’s probably a mistake, but it’s too late now.

  I’m unlocking my car door when Nick’s Range Rover pulls up. He parks at the curb, and the passenger window slides down, revealing Mack’s smiling face. His massive frame seems a little squished in the front seat.

  “What up, Juliet!” he calls out. “Your chariot awaits!”

  “What?” Laughing, I walk over to the car. “What are you guys doing here?”

  Nick gets out of the driver’s side, and jogs around to me. He looks good in his uniform—very hot rich boy in the polo shirt and gray slacks.