by Alison Ryan
“Well, no. I just mentioned it and she seemed really excited about it for you. She said it would be good for you to have a week of fun.”
I shook my head, “I can’t leave Grandma. No way. Hospice is coming this week.”
McKenna’s face fell at the news.
“Of course,” she said. “I understand. I’m such a jackass.”
I threw my pillow at her, “Not even a little bit, dork.”
“What does having hospice at home mean?” asked Rhiannon. “Sorry to bring it up but I don’t know much about it.”
I shrugged, “I know as much as you do. Grandma will have nurses here treating her symptoms and pain but not the disease itself. It’s more about making the most of the time you have left and letting go of the battle for now…” My voice trailed off.
Neither of them spoke. I stood up and stretched, getting a view of myself in the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
“Ugh,” I said. “I look awful. Can I wear a muumuu to the pool? Do you think they’ll let me swim in that?”
“You’re such a nerd,” McKenna replied. “Get your hot ass into your bathing suit and we’ll wait downstairs for you. Rhiannon has Big Rhoda!”
I listened to them stumble downstairs, rowdy and excited about a beautiful summer day at the community pool. I looked back at myself in the mirror and muttered, “Yay. Displaying myself in public in a bathing suit sounds like the most fun thing ever. Not.”
I pulled out a one piece Billabong suit I had bought over spring break with Marisol at the Meadows Mall in Las Vegas. She had tried on numerous bikinis, proud of her curvy figure while I had grabbed the first thing I saw that didn’t have a skirt and bought it without trying it on.
I didn’t know why I was anxious. I had worn a bathing suit at the lake, in front of Ryan of all people, but I still dreaded being seen so close to naked. Especially next to McKenna and Rhiannon.
I threw on a t-shirt and Umbros as a cover-up and came downstairs to see McKenna and Rhiannon talking to Grandma on the sofa.
“Hey, angel.” She held out her arms, “You slept in today. I’ve already woken and napped this morning. You must have had a late night.” She winked at me.
I leaned down and gently hugged her, kissing her papery cheek, “I didn’t go anywhere, but I was definitely up past curfew.”
“Good,” Grandma said. “Soak in this beautiful summer. Y’all heading to the pool?”
All three of us nodded in unison.
“Well, have some fun for me. Wish I could be there,” she said.
It was so hard to leave her after that. Mom was in the kitchen making sandwiches for both of them. I waved to her on our way out the door.
When we stepped out onto the porch the thick humidity of the day hit us hard.
“Ugh,” I said. “I need to go grab a scrunchie. Be right back.”
“Grab me one too,” said McKenna. “We’ll be in the sauna that is Big Rhoda.”
I ran up the stairs to my room. I kept my scrunchies on my doorknob, an easy place to store them without losing them, something I was famous for. As I reached for them, my mother’s voice called to me.
“Addie!” she said, climbing up the steps behind me, “I wanted to talk to you about something real quick.”
“McKenna and Rhiannon are waiting,” I said.
“It’ll just take a sec,” she replied.
She walked into my room and sat on my unmade bed. She sighed at the clothes thrown around the floor.
“When you get back you need to straighten this up,” she said.
“I will,” I promised. “What’s up?”
“Well, McKenna mentioned she invited you to go to the beach with her,” she said, running her hand along the floral sheet of my mattress. “I think it would be a good idea for you to go.”
I stared at her, confused, “But Grandma has hospice coming next week. I can’t go, I need to be with her.”
“That’s exactly why I want you to go,” Mom said. “Hospice care will be set up, there will be nurses, and Dr. Harrison, and there’s going to be a lot happening around here. And after that things will be very different… And hard, Addie. I just want you to have one last week before things change. And Grandma feels the same. She’s adamant you not be here when they’re setting it up. She wants you to have one last week of carefree excitement before the really hard part begins.”
I shook my head, “But what if something happens while I’m gone? And I’m stuck. I would hate myself forever.”
“Nothing like that is going to happen while you’re gone,” Mom assured me. “She’s not at that point yet, but if this was a few weeks from now, I wouldn’t want you to go. But she still has some time, she’s still moving around a bit and has a tiny bit of strength. Dr. Harrison has told us this phase probably won’t last much longer.”
Tears stung my eyes as I thought about the conversations that happened yesterday when I wasn’t around.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how I could have any fun knowing what’s happening back here.”
My mother wrapped her around my shoulders, “You’re a good kid. You know that? I don’t know how it happened, but you ended up with one hell of a heart. But Addie, this is not something I’m asking you to do. We’re telling you. Go. Enjoy your week because it’s about to get really tough here.”
She squeezed my shoulders and kissed my head. Outside Rhiannon honked for me, as if I had forgotten they were waiting.
11
On the ride to the pool we listened to Joan Osborne on the radio.
“If God is one of us, we’re so screwed,” noted McKenna. “Although it would be nice if God could make it a smidge cooler, being that my pits are basically Niagara Falls right now.” She leaned her raised arm out the window. “No use! It’s like a hair dryer on high blowing on us. I can’t wait to get into the damn pool!”
I had piled my hair on top of my head into a messy bun, secured by a hot pink scrunchie.
“So about Myrtle Beach,” I said, raising my voice over the sound of the music and the air from the windows blowing through. “I guess I’m going.”
McKenna looked back at me and squealed, “Yes! I’m so stoked! You changed your mind?”
“It was kind of changed for me,” I admitted. “But I’m sure it’ll be fun. I just hope everything is okay at home while I’m gone.”
“You’ll probably miss Ryan too, huh?” asked Rhiannon, looking at me from the rearview mirror.
“He’ll be in Richmond anyway,” I said. “And then Las Vegas. I won’t see him for two weeks. Some basketball thing.”
“Yeah, Jackson told me Ryan got asked to play for the Squires. Jackson’s pretty envious,” replied Rhiannon.
We finally reached the pool, which was the Rutledgeville Community Center. The parking lot was packed. It seemed everyone in town was desperate to cool off.
And that everyone included Rachel Lawson and crew.
I knew it was her without anyone telling me. She was standing next to the entrance, leaning against the gate, talking to Courtney Showalter. She had on a purple bikini top and cut- offs so short the pockets hung out. The strings to her bikini bottoms peeked out from the top of her shorts that were, besides being short, folded down at the top showing off an impossibly small but defined waist. Her hair was black and glossy, hanging in a long ponytail down her slender and incredibly tan back. She had on platform jelly shoes, which just made her already long legs look longer. She was putting on lip gloss and rolling her eyes at something Courtney was saying.
“Ugh, the Bitch Brigade is here. Of course,” McKenna observed. “At least we’re even now. Three against three.”
My stomach dropped at the sight of her. She was much more beautiful than I had imagined, much to my dismay. I was hoping she was small town pretty. The kind that is elevated and revered only because there aren’t as many people around to judge it. But no. Rachel Lawson was universally gorgeous. And I was beginning to wonder how Ryan Kidson had pos
sibly resisted her when she asked for him to be hers again.
Fortunately, they walked into the pool before we made it to the entrance.
“We’ll try to grab chairs next to the diving boards,” Rhiannon said. “Rachel and her crew usually stay near the concession stand and locker rooms.”
“Yeah, so Jennifer can go throw up all her calories,” remarked McKenna. “Sorry, that was really mean. Ugh. They bring out the worst in me.”
“Does she really do that?” asked Rhiannon. “Because that’s terrible and sad.”
“I don’t know for sure. Rachel has alluded to it and acted like it was a positive,” McKenna said. “Which should tell you everything you need to know about her pervasive evil ways.”
“Damn,” I said. “If that’s true, that is some pretty evil shit.”
As we walked towards some empty chairs near a lifeguard stand and the diving boards, we were disappointed to see the Bitch Brigade had laid claim to the chairs right next to ours. And, unfortunately, they were the last of the chairs available.
“Shit,” McKenna muttered. “A damn mommy play group took over the chairs near the locker rooms. Motherfu-“
Rhiannon smacked her shoulder before she could finish, “Just act like you don’t care. Remember?”
McKenna sighed, “Right. There’s a difference between not caring and self-preservation.”
“We’ll just lay our stuff down and get in the pool,” I said.
There was little doubt they were staring at us as we casually walked over to the lounge chairs and laid our towels out. Rhiannon took off her shirt to lather on some sunscreen while McKenna and I feigned interest in a magazine.
“Ugh. The Slut Squad showed up,” I head Courtney say, loudly, to Rachel.
Rachel laughed, “Oh my God, that’s funny.”
“What’s funny is how pasty white Rhiannon is,” Jennifer added. “I’m blinded more by her than I am the sun.”
They cackled at the very weak insult. Rhiannon, to her credit, just ignored them, barely even flinching. I suspected she’d heard worse.
“Is that her?” I heard Rachel say, clearly referring to me. “She must put out if Ryan actually finds her attractive.”
“She has to make up for her fat ass somehow,” replied Courtney. “It reminds me of a joke. Why do fat girls give good head?”
“I don’t know. Why?” asked Jennifer. Rachel was already giggling.
“Because they have to!” Courtney laughed. I gritted my teeth but refused to look up. McKenna was squeezing my hand.
“That makes sense,” said Rachel. “Guys enjoy the hoes but they don’t fall in love with them. Because they’re pathetic.”
Before I could react, McKenna stood up. Her hands balled into fists, shaking with anger at her sides.
“What’s pathetic,” she said, her voice clear and strong, “is a girl who can’t handle the fact that a boy picked someone else over her. It’s sad that even as perfect and beautiful as she pretends she think she is, she’s afraid that he must have seen that she was terrifically flawed after all. And that all her makeup, and all her expensive clothes, and all of Daddy’s money couldn’t cover up the fact that she’s a black-hearted, soulless, bitch. And not only that, she’s someone who will only matter in one place, for a brief time in her life, and after high school will most likely spend the remainder of her doleful days reminiscing about the glory days, when she was someone special. While she eats her leftovers from Dominos and yells at her three mediocre children in her mediocre house in the same mediocre town she was born in and will probably die in. That is truly the definition of pathetic. Remind you of anyone you know, Rach?”
All of us gawked at McKenna Holt, who had just now arrived. It was the most epic soliloquy I had ever borne witness to, and if I wasn’t so shocked, I would have applauded.
As it was, Rachel Lawson’s expression stayed cold and still. But I did notice a slight eye twitch from the right side of her perfectly lacquered face. She didn’t say a word, leaving the response to the eloquent Courtney.
“Oh my God, McKenna Holt suddenly has something to say?” Courtney bellowed. But before she continued Rhiannon stopped her.
“There’s nothing,” Rhiannon said, “that you could retort with that would ever beat that. So stop while you’re ahead. And you know every single word of it was true, Courtney.”
With that, the three of us took off our cover-ups and laid down on our towel-covered plastic chairs, letting the sun bake us while we grinned mischievously under our magazines. The water could wait. It felt much better being cool and collected.
As for the Bitch Brigade, they took their towels and went somewhere else. I don’t know where, but we didn’t see them again for the rest of the day.
“That was the stuff of Rutledgeville legend, McKenna Holt!” Rhiannon whooped on our drive home a couple hours later. “You handed her ass to her. In front of everyone. She got served.”
McKenna grinned smugly from the back seat, “It spilled out of me like I’d been waiting to say it my entire life.”
“Slut Squad,” I muttered. “I’m about the furthest thing from it. That would mean I would have had to actually have done anything, which I haven’t.”
“Slut is such an empty insult and shows their complete lack of creativity,” Rhiannon said. “I mean why is being called a slut a bad thing? To me, it just means guys like what they see and want to hit it. And that I enjoy sex like the third wave feminist I am.”
McKenna and I both gaped at one another.
“Wait, you’ve had sex?” asked McKenna. “Since when?”
“Since never,” explained Rhiannon. “But if I did, what of it? Why would I be a slut and the guy I partook in relations with be some stud hero? Nope. Not in my world.”
“You’ve watched Reality Bites too many times,” laughed McKenna from the front. “What the hell is third wave feminism? They come in waves?”
All three of us looked at one another and burst into uncontrollable laughter, high off winning a battle and the glorious post-victory journey home.
12
As we pulled into McKenna’s driveway, I could see Ryan’s truck parked in front of my house.
“Ohhhhh, boy,” McKenna said, shaking my shoulders. “Someone’s about to join the Slut Squad! Inaugural member!”
“You are such a doofus,” I said, hitting her with my towel.
All three of us walked over to my house, rowdy and still excited from the afternoon’s events. I had expected Ryan to be sitting on my porch, but I was pleasantly surprised to find him in the living room, sitting next to Grandma, who had the biggest smile on her face as we walked in.
“Hey, girls!” she said. “Look who just stopped by! Rutledgeville’s own.”
Ryan’s cheeks turned red for a moment, embarrassed by the praise, “Mrs. McCurtis, you’re so silly. I’m not Michael Jordan.”
“I was thinking you’re more like our Brad Pitt. Right, angel?” she winked at me. I was mortified.
“Oh my God,” I said. “You’re killing me, Grandma.” But I was laughing.
“Y’all go to the pool?” Ryan asked, noticing our damp hair and bathing suit tops.
“Yep,” McKenna said. “We ran into some friends of yours. Some lovely ladies. Had a wonderful chat.”
Ryan looked at me, concerned, “Rachel was there?”
I nodded, “Yeah. She sure is something.”
“I can only imagine,” he said. “I hope she wasn’t too terrible to y’all.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Rhiannon said. “We’re pretty awesome, you know.”
Ryan laughed, “I’ve always known that. Glad the rest of the world is finally coming to terms with it.”
There was an awkward pause for a moment. McKenna took that as her cue.
“Well, Rhiannon and I better get back to my house. Thanks for coming with us, Addie. Love you, Mrs. McCurtis. We’re still praying for you!”
“I appreciate that, darlin’.” Grandma
waved.
“And we’re leaving Sunday morning, Addie! But I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow and we can talk more about it. Bye, y’all!” McKenna called out as the screen door shut behind them.
Ryan looked over at me with a quizzical look, “And where are you heading?”
“I’m going to Myrtle Beach with McKenna and her parents,” I said. “I don’t really want to, but someone thinks it’s a good idea.” I looked at Grandma pointedly.
Grandma feigned innocence, “Who, me? How dare I want you to have a fun-filled week with your friend? Guilty as charged!” She winked at me again.
“But Grandma,” I said, “Hospice is coming. You need me, don’t you?”
“Oh, angel, I’ll always need you,” she said. “But so much will be happening around here. I’d rather you be out of the way, having a mid-summer hurrah with a spunky friend. McKenna will make sure you have the time of your life.”
I leaned down and hugged her lightly, “I love you so much.”
She touched my cheek, “I love you to the moon and back, angel. And back again.”
Ryan and I drove to the water tower that night with the radio on low. A George Strait song hummed from the speakers and I held Ryan’s hand across the bench seat. My hands were still pruney from the pool.
“You excited about the beach?” he asked, as we turned onto the dirt road that led to the field.
“I guess,” I said. “I wish you could be there.”
“Me too,” he said. “Instead I’ll be doing boring basketball drills and scrimmages. With a bunch of sweaty dudes that I don’t know.”
“Are you nervous?” I asked, squeezing his hand.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough. That I don’t deserve it.”
“There’s no way they would have asked you if you weren’t good enough,” I said. “And I don’t know a lick about basketball but I can tell you’re probably good at everything you do.”
He had stopped the truck and threw it in park, turning to me with a sly grin.
“Everything?” he asked, inching towards me.