The Girl Next Door

by Selene Castrovilla

  “Sammy, can I borrow your shoes now?” Teddy bounced into the room, dancing around.

  “Teddy, go play in your room,” Mom said. “Samantha and I are talking.”

  “But, but—”

  “Go!”

  Teddy ran from the room; Mom probably had never raised her voice to him before. She leaned into my face. “You and Jesse are having sex, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Sam. We’ve always told each other the truth—always.”

  I stared at carpet fibers.

  “I write about sex for a living, honey. I know all the signs.”

  The fibers were really fluffy.

  “Samantha!”

  “Okay, okay! Yes! Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Oh, God.” She sank on to her bed and covered her eyes.

  “I’m not going to stop. I don’t care what you say.”

  Mom’s hands dropped from her face. She stared at me with eyes suddenly cold. “Convenient, isn’t it? For Jesse, to have his best friend to comfort him.”

  I sucked in air, unable to speak. How can she say that? How can she think that Jess would use me? But then, it wasn’t like Jess had ever thought of dating me before, either.

  The room spun around me, filled with the awful thoughts my mother had conjured. If I hadn’t been sitting already, I’d probably have fallen. I sat frozen, paralyzed by implication and fear, until I felt warm pressure on my shoulders. Mom was there, in front of me, holding me.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I felt her take a deep breath and let it out. Time seemed timeless as her heart pounded against me, through my pink silk. “I understand,” she said finally. Her voice was warm now, like her touch. She pulled back a little, looked into my eyes softly. She was Mom again. My terrors retreated back into the shadows.

  “You do?”

  She nodded. “But I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you.”

  I paused for a moment before answering, trying to make sure all the bad feelings were gone. “I’ll be all right.”

  “You think you know the answers, but—”

  “I don’t know the answers.” God, that was the truth. “I just know that me and Jess, we need to be together—as long as we can be.”

  She looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t piece it together. Finally, she laughed. “I’m sending my teenage daughter off to have sex. It’s official: I’m nuts.”

  I was still feeling shook up, but I forced out a smile. “You’re sending your daughter off to be with her best friend. Period.”

  She clutched my hands for a bit. Then, letting go, she said, “C’mon, let’s finish that hair.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Going somewhere with my son?”

  Jesus, it was round two, and Gwen gave me the big stare-down. She’d intercepted me on the way to Jesse’s room.

  I tried looking around her. “Yeah.”

  “I’ve never seen you so … feminine before.”

  I shrugged.

  “Are you two dating now?”

  “We’re just going out on prom night, Ma.” Jesse came up behind her. “We’re playing dress-up; it’s a game.”

  “Jesse! You look wonderful!” She stared at him, and so did I. He looked smokin’ in his black tux with purple bow tie. And no hat.

  Thank God he was running interference for me. He pecked Gwen on the cheek. “See ya, Mom.” He brushed past her and gave me a push, nudging me out before Gwen thought of something else obnoxious to say.

  ***

  “Hey, hot stuff,” he said in the elevator, leaning against the back handrail. “Lookin’ good!” He hit the Stop button and grabbed me, kissing me hard and deep, even as I supported his weight. Then he started the elevator moving again.

  “You’ve sure changed your mood.”

  “How can I be grumpy in a tux?” He held on to me with one hand, and with the other he gave me a squeeze on the tush. “And with you looking like that?”

  Ding! We hit ground.

  Outside, I took him by the arm and led him across the street. “Where we going?” he asked.

  “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

  “Don’t we need a cab?”

  “No.” I opened my little satin purse and pulled out a black scarf—the only thing in there besides a condom.

  “What are you doin’ with that?”

  “Blindfolding you.”

  “Kinky.” He bent to let me tie it around his eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to lead me off like this, Sam.”

  I took his hand and led him slowly into the park.

  ***

  “Whatcha doin’?” Jesse asked. I’d left him standing, still blindfolded, while I set up everything. I’d hidden it all behind the bushes earlier in the day.

  “Ready?” I pulled off the scarf. We were standing in the spot where we used to picnic—Mom and us, or Maria and us. A patch of grass surrounded by shrubs and three tall, leafy trees.

  It was where we used to play tag, and hide-and-seek, and other kid games. It was where Jesse tackled me, making me taste dirt through my laughter. It was where we made up stories about what we were going do when we grew up; it was where we learned to dream.

  “Omigod,” he said, staring at the white lights strung all through the bushes. “How’d you light them?”

  “Portable generator. Let’s hope our building doesn’t have a blackout, because I borrowed it from Manny.” It paid to be nice to the maintenance guy.

  He looked at the checkered blanket with place settings for two. In the center was a roasted chicken, grilled vegetables, sparkling cider, and apple pie—Jesse loved apple pie. “This is as gourmet as I get,” I said.

  “It’s perfect.”

  He seemed so happy, but then, in a fraction of a second, his spark extinguished. “Sam, why’d you bring me here?”

  The thought had been building for months, that if I could just get Jesse back into the park—if I could just get Jesse to allow the park back in—then maybe I could get him to hope … to fight.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. It suddenly hit me that I was wrong to push him, to force him to go where he didn’t want to be. It was his life, after all. “I wanted you to remember the good times we had here.”

  He didn’t say anything, just shuffled his shiny black shoes in the grass. Then he looked all around again, staring at the twinkly lights that made me feel like I was on heaven’s threshold. His smile came back.

  He kissed me, ran his fingers down the side of my neck. “Thanks.”

  ***

  We sat on the blanket and ate. It was a beautiful, clear night. The kind where you couldn’t imagine anything being wrong in the world.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, swooshing taffeta as I got up.

  I hit Play on the Ipod, and Abba sang to us: “Does your mother know that you’re out?”

  He hoisted himself up. “Care to dance?” he asked, putting his arms around me. I nestled into his chest, tucking my head under his chin and holding him tight. It felt so good, his body pitched against me. I could stay there always. I listened to his heart beat: Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Abba was warning me to take it easy. Easy to say, wasn’t it. But taking it easy didn’t seem within my capacity these days. Tears welled in my eyes; I sniffled.

  He looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I feel so bad,” I said, tears rubbing into his white shirt. Guilt prickled through my body, goading my tears. How can I be so happy when Jess shouldn’t be here at all? “You belong somewhere else,” I told him.

  “No I don’t.”

  “You do.” He would have been king of the prom—I was sure. “If you could take any girl to the prom tonight, who would it be? Cindy Evans, I bet.” That was an almost sure thing. Other girls who’d been hot for Jess paraded through my mind. “Or Elyse Carmichael. Or Jamie Suthouser. Or Valerie Daniels …”

  I had no right, but I felt j
ealous just then; jealous of the girl who would’ve been in Jesse’s arms if he hadn’t gotten sick. I couldn’t be sure who it would’ve been, but it wouldn’t have been me. I could picture them in silhouette, dancing under a dazzling rainbow of swirling spotlights while the band played Dido. I could see him pulling her closer, closer. I could see their mouths touching… .

  Jess pressed his finger on my cheek and stared into me, yanking me from my solitary spot by the punch bowl at Tavern on the Green.

  God. Those eyes.

  Those eyes—they looked right inside.

  “I’d take the girl next door.” Jess’s voice was hushed, sincere. He inhaled air in deep bursts, like he was making up for the breath he took from me.

  The sky seemed magnified through all my tears. The stars flickered wildly, like the lights on Broadway. Please, I begged them silently, squeezing my eyes shut. Please don’t take Jesse away.

  His lips dug into mine, wet and desperate.

  Chapter Ten

  We made love right there, on the checkered blanket. Just shoved the glasses and plates aside and did it in the cool air while Abba sang on.

  “So how do you feel?” I asked afterward. We were spread out on the blanket, staring at the stars. My head lay against Jesse’s chest and I fiddled with his bow tie.

  “Not to be crude, but I just got laid. I feel great.”

  “Oh, stop. I meant, how do you feel being here?”

  “Hmmm …” He traced his finger across my pearls. “I guess I’m relieved. I was so full of anger and self-pity. It was like I centered it all in this park; I had to shut myself off, shut myself out, to get away from the hurt.”

  “And now?”

  His hand was under the necklace, tickling. “And now … I feel light. Like everything’s been lifted.”

  I rolled over to face him. “You have room for something else now?”

  “What?”

  “Hope.”

  He looked back up at the sky. “Why would I want to hope? Just to inject myself with a fresh dose of pain?”

  “You can fight it, Jesse.” The tears started coming again. “Please.”

  “Sam, no one with a dual translocation survives.”

  “There’s a chance—”

  “It’s easier to accept it.”

  “When did you get to be such a wimp?”

  “Hey, you try it.” His voice was sharp. “Being on top of the world, then getting flicked off the globe without warning. Squashed like a bug by the hand of God.”

  “You think God did this to you?”

  He clutched a fistful of blanket. “Who the fuck knows. Doesn’t matter; it’s done, I’m dying. Deal with it.”

  “I thought you let go of your anger.”

  He looked at me with lost eyes and burst into tears. I grabbed his lapel and clung to him like he was hanging from a cliff.

  “Jesse, say what’s inside.”

  He slobbered on my neck, heaving sobs, sounding almost inhuman.

  “Say it, Jesse.” I knew—I knew there was a fighter in there somewhere.

  “Leave me alone! Just let me be,” he shrieked. My arms were roped around his waist under his jacket and tight against his back. He tried to pull free but I held on. He pounded his fist into my arm; my flesh and muscle lit with cramping agony, but I still wouldn’t let go.

  “No more pain; I can’t take any more pain,” he wailed.

  We were covered in each others’ tears. Mascara ran into my eyes, burning and blurring everything black. Jess shook like he was just yanked from a hole in the middle of a frozen lake.

  “Jesse, Jesse … ” I choked on his name.

  Then he let out a high-pitched wail: “Oh, God!” He clawed into my back. “Oh, God, I don’t want to die!”

  ***

  “Oh my God, Sam. I hit you. I’m a fucking animal.” It was the first thing he’d said in about an hour. He’d spent the minutes crying into the poufy satin shoulder of my dress, stopping briefly, then crying some more.

  “It doesn’t matter, Jess.”

  “Yes it does matter. I’m a goddamn batterer.” He examined the black and blue mark on my arm.

  “I provoked you.” He touched the bruise and I winced. He looked horrified.

  “That’s just what a battered woman would say. I’m a fucking wife beater!”

  “I’m not your wife.”

  “Thank God! I’d probably beat the crap out of you.”

  “Stop it, Jesse. I pushed you and you snapped. You’d never hurt me otherwise. I know that.”

  “How do you know? It always starts with one good sock, then the scumbag’s full of remorse—until the next time.”

  “You’re not a scumbag. You’re just an emotional wreck.”

  “You going to tell your mom?”

  “No!”

  “See! You’re covering up, just like a battered woman already. Shit.”

  “You need to chill out, dude.” I held my palm up. “Don’t make me slap you.”

  He stared at my hand. “Jeez, maybe you’re a beater, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  That made us both laugh and he lay back on the blanket and I followed, completely wiped.

  He kissed me. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “For what? For giving you the most fucked-up, miserable prom night ever?”

  “You know for what.” He kissed me more deeply. “For playing therapist.”

  “Was I any good at it?”

  “I’ll lie on your couch anytime.” He sucked on my neck, giving me goosebumps. Then a thought hit—the doubt. But it was too late to do anything but lay guilt on me. Had I helped Jess, or just brought more heartache to the surface? What did I know? Half the time I felt like I was ready for the psych ward myself.

  “I’ll do the experimental treatment.” Jess’s voice tickled inside my ear, almost unbearably. “For you, Sam—I’d do anything for you.”

  For me? What about for him? Didn’t he even remotely believe the treatment would work? But I couldn’t ask him then; it was enough for one night. And did it matter why he was doing it anyway? The important thing was, he was doing it. Right?

  I almost said something more, but before I could string the words together he spoke.

  “Back to the party.” Jess hauled himself up and turned on the CD/Ipod player again. Then he reached for me and helped me up. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

  Abba serenaded us as we swayed under the stars. You had to get in a good mood when “Dancing Queen” came on—the slide of the piano keys was an instant spirit lifter.

  Leaning on me, Jess nibbled on my earlobe, then breathed the heated words inside my ear: “I love you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A few days later I came home from school to find Jess using his laptop—something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  “What up,” I said casually, not wanting to make a big deal that he was doing something other than vegetating.

  “Dr. Raab told me there’s some sites for young adults with cancer,” Jess said. “He thought I could find some people to chat with… you know, with the same stuff going on.”

  “Cool,” I said. “Great idea. So, you find anyone?”

  “I found a bunch of anyones,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just reading through the threads right now. I’m not quite ready to take the plunge into posting.”

  “You do that, and I’ll get some homework done,” I said, relieved that he was occupied with something for once. It was hard studying when I felt like I needed to keep his spirits up all the time. I felt bad enough leaving him alone all day. But I did have a chemistry final in two days; cracking that book might be a smart idea. I unzipped my backpack and hauled the hefty thing out.

  “Yeah, about studying,” Jess said.

  I looked up from the book. “What about it?”

  “You should go to summer school,” he said.

  “No way.”

  “You’re messing up your life, Sam.”

  I slammed the book shut an
d shoved it, a little too hard, sending it over the edge of the bed. “Okay, when did my mom come talk to you?”

  “Today, while you were at school.” He propped up his head with his arm and leaned sideways at me. “She’s right, you know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He crossed his ankles. “It’s not good for you to spend so much time in this room.”

  “Then let’s go out more.”

  “I mean, you need to be around other people.”

  I waved the ridiculous suggestion away without comment.

  “Sam, what’s going to happen to you—really?”

  My heart raced at the words. No more questions. Please, no more questions.

  I didn’t answer.

  He said, “I care about you too much not to talk about this.”

  I still didn’t answer.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Sam. I agreed to try and fight. I’m starting the stem cell clinical trial Dr. Raab kept yapping about, aren’t I? But we have to be realistic.”

  Why?

  “Your mom’s afraid you’re going to stick a knife in your stomach and throw yourself over my dead body like in some twisted version of ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ ”

  I didn’t say anything; the thought had crossed my mind.

  “Well?”

  I turned away from him, fixing my eyes once again on that picture on the bedside table—the snapshot of lost smiles and lost people. Why hadn’t I appreciated the simple life we had, a friendship some people never found? Why had I wanted more? God, it was almost like I’d willed his illness, so I could have him to myself.

  “Sam, I’m waiting for you to tell me you’re not going to stick a knife in your stomach and throw yourself over my dead body like in some twisted version of ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ ”

  Silence.

  “Hello!”

  Finally I turned to him. “We’re not even boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “We’re not?”

  My eyebrows narrowed together. “Why? You think we are?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Sex Kitten. I could’ve sworn it was you in this bed with me.”

  “That’s just sex.”

  “Oh, excuse me.” He was red now, like his temperature was rising. “And it meant nothing to you when I told you I loved you in the park?”