Crazy in Love

by Dandi Daley Mackall

“How could I have been so wrong about him? About me? I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  I want to help her, but I can’t. I have no answer for her. But the voices in my head are talking, calmly, reasonably, like they always do at Roy Dale, when I’m around Sandy and her friends. The thoughts in my head aren’t one voice, one note, but they fit together, like a chord. So I listen:M.J.: Alicia is a beautiful, intelligent college woman. She’s the strongest, best friend you’ve ever had.

  Plain Jane: Alicia is a dumped girlfriend, who gave this guy something she can’t get back. She feels rejected, foolish, ugly.

  M.J.: But she’s not! She’s sexy and confident. . . .

  Plain Jane: And lonely and scared . . .

  And then I get it.

  I’m not the only one with voices in my head. There must be at least a couple of Alicias fighting in her head—the confident college girl, Colt’s girlfriend, Sandy’s buddy, my best friend.

  And what about Colt? Maybe part of him did love Alicia, does love her. And maybe another part of him just wanted to get her into bed.

  What if everybody has voices? What if life isn’t simple for anybody?

  I feel as if I’m on the verge of an incredible discovery, an amazing secret of the universe. But I don’t know how to explain all this to Alicia.

  I reach over and hug her. “You’ll be okay,” I say.

  “I don’t know, Mary Jane. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  I pull away so I can look into her eyes. The old Alicia’s there. So is the new one. Maybe some I’ve never met.

  “Hey! Don’t cry.” It’s Sandy. She’s left the game and is towering over us, her face screwed up like she might cry, too. “I don’t care if we lose the game.”

  I glance at the scoreboard and see the Dragons are down by fourteen points. “Oh, honey,” I say, taking her hand, “that’s not why we’re crying.”

  “But why? Why are you crying? Why’s Alicia crying?” Sandy is really upset.

  "I guess,” I begin, trying to respect Sandy enough to be honest but struggling to put it into words she can understand. “I guess we’re crying because we’re mixed up.” I glance over at Alicia. She’s sniffling, but the crying’s stopped. “And sometimes it feels like we’re different people, like a bunch of Alicias live inside her head and a bunch of Mary Janes live inside mine.”

  Alicia’s eyes narrow, and her face looks like a light’s gone on inside. “That’s exactly it,” she whispers. She looks up at Sandy. “And sometimes it’s hard to know which Alicia is real, which one I really am.”

  Sandy breaks into a smile that shows her crooked canines and too much gum. “That’s easy!” she exclaims. “You’re everybody! You’re your whole team. And you’re the captain!”

  Sandy kisses the top of Alicia’s head, then trots back down to the Dragon bench.

  When she’s gone, Alicia turns to me. “I’m really sorry, Ettermeyer. I was pretty scummy to you. I don’t blame you if you hate me.”

  “Are you kidding? Haven’t you ever heard of freshman forgiveness?” I ask. “It’s sweeping the nation.”

  We talk off and on through the third quarter. She tells me about Colt. I tell her about Jackson. I think I feel more me than I have in a long time.

  In the fourth period, Alicia elbows me and points to the Dragon bench. My sister has her head on Chris’s shoulder, and his arm is around her. It only lasts a minute, but I think the image will be with me forever. Neither of us says a word, but I can tell Alicia feels what I feel. Sandy isn’t just a little girl. She’s also a nineteen-year-old woman. And maybe more. My sister is “the whole team,” too.

  When the game’s over, and we cheer our 46 to 20 loss, Sandy comes over to make sure Alicia and I are all right. Her smile is even bigger than it was before.

  “You’re awfully smiley,” Alicia observes. “How come?”

  Sandy’s face shows an angelic wonder. “I just feel really happy.”

  “Yeah? And why are you so happy?” I ask.

  Sandy’s eyes narrow, like she’s thinking it over. She tilts her head to one side, and a shadow splits her face into two, dark and light. “I’m not sure,” she begins slowly, “but I think it has something to do with Chris putting his arm around me.” There’s no joking in these words, not a bit of teasing, no guile. Just pure joy, as if she’s as surprised as the next guy at this new development.

  Alicia throws her arms around Sandy’s neck and hugs her. “You know, kid, I want to be you when I grow up.”

  “Okay,” Sandy says. Then she skips back to her team to celebrate.

  My cell goes off. I check and see it’s Jackson’s number. “Hello?”

  “Mary Jane, I tried to call you a couple of times,” Jackson says. I hear the windshield wipers in the background. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t hear my cell. I’m still at Sandy’s game. Lots of noise here.”

  “Cheering?”

  “And crying.” I smile at Alicia.

  “Your team lost, I take it,” Jackson ventures.

  “Yes.” I could try to explain to him that nobody here ever cries over a lost game, that we’ve been crying because it’s not easy realizing how complicated everybody is, especially ourselves. But I don’t know if he’d understand.

  The thought hits hard. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand about me and a lot I don’t understand about him. Too much. I’ve got Mary Janes he has no idea of. I wonder how many Jacksons there are that I haven’t met.

  “Well, I’m in town and headed to Roy Dale. Wait for me, okay?”

  I wait for him outside, as the first snowfall of the year descends in giant flakes. The parking lot clears. I stare up into the sky, already black as night. I could be inside a snow globe, with white flecks swirling around me, sticking to my eyelashes, tickling my ears. It’s still, as if padded and sealed. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this peaceful.

  Jackson honks as he pulls up to the curb.

  I get in, and before he can say anything, before I get thrown off guard by how amazing he looks and smells, I blurt it out. “Jackson, we have to change our plans.”

  “You’re kidding! Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I just can’t do this.”

  “Mary Jane,” he begins, his voice all full of niceness and sexiness, “you don’t have to be afraid of anything. I’ll—”

  “It’s not that,” I interrupt, because it isn’t. I’m not afraid, not like he’s thinking. “I’m just not ready, and I’m thinking I probably won’t be, not until I know someone well enough to marry him, and he knows me well enough to marry me back.”

  I’ve blindsided him, and I know it.

  “I don’t get it.” He’s been leaning close to me, and now he pulls back and sits up straight. “Why did you let me think we were going to be together tonight? You can’t just change your mind like that. Without even telling me? This isn’t right, Mary Jane. I’ve been good to you.”

  “What—so sex is a thank you?” I snap. “I owe you because you’ve been good to me?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” he mutters. But he doesn’t try to tell me how he did mean it.

  “I know.” I take a minute and struggle to get my words out single file so they’ll make sense. “Jackson, I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. But I couldn’t tell you before because I only figured it out now, tonight.”

  Someone flashes his headlights behind us, then honks. I think it’s the Roy Dale principal, and he doesn’t like us loitering in his parking lot.

  Jackson pulls away from the curb and out of the lot. “So can we at least talk about this?” he asks.

  “I want to talk about it,” I answer. I’d do just about anything to make him understand what’s going on inside of me, why I’ve come to this decision, why I know it’s the right thing.

  But neither of us talks as he drives to his house. He pulls into the driveway and leaves the motor running.

  “So talk,” he says
, like he’s mostly mad at me.

  I wait and listen to the voices in my head. Now that I understand them better, I want to hear them out. But I’m the one who’ll make up my mind. I’m the captain.

  “Jackson,” I begin, prompted by M.J., “I want you so much! I won’t lie to you. I wanted this night to happen as much as you did. I’ll probably hate myself in the morning for not going in with you right now.”

  “So let’s go in,” he says, although I think he knows I won’t.

  I keep going, taking my cue from Plain Jane now. “You make me feel beautiful, Jackson. Did you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever felt beautiful before. I still can’t believe you chose me.”

  “I thought we chose each other.” He’s sulking now.

  “We did. We still do, I hope. I’m not saying I want to break up with you. And you better not want to break up with me just because I’m not having sex with you tonight. I love you more than any guy I’ve ever known, more than I thought I could love anybody. And I know there’s so much more for me to love. I want to know you better and better. I just don’t want to have sex. Okay, I do. But I don’t. I’m going to wait, Jackson, because it’s going to be worth it.”

  Jackson turns his big brown eyes on me. “I just wanted us to be together.”

  I keep talking as snowflakes curtain the windshield and our breath collects on the glass. I don’t bring up the stuff about the vow and the cow. I don’t tell him about my charter membership in AIA. But I translate these things into words I think he’ll understand if he lets himself. About waiting, about saving.

  It’s weird. One minute Jackson acts like a little boy who didn’t get the gift he wanted for Christmas. The next minute, he acts like the popular guy he is, giving off vibes that this is no big loss to him. And in the next minute, he seems to get it. He might even look relieved. I don’t know, but I think I see the Jacksons in his head struggling, too.

  “I better take you home,” he says when we’re both too exhausted to argue anymore.

  We’re quiet until he turns onto my street. “Not exactly the night I had planned,” he observes.

  “Tell me about it,” I agree. “I’ve got sixty-seven dollars in Victoria’s Secrets that shall remain a secret.”

  We grin at each other.

  He stops in front of my house, and we exchange an awkward, nervous kiss, then say good-bye.

  “I’ll call you,” he says.

  I nod. I want to believe him. I want him to call me. I want this to end happily ever after, with Jackson vowing to wait, too, and to date only me for the rest of his life. I want to surround us with words like together and forever. But I don’t know which Jackson will win.

  I watch him drive away, his taillights turning circles of snow red and yellow, his tires leaving gray streaks in the white snow. I miss him already.

  When I get inside the house, Alicia’s sitting on the couch reading Sandy a book about unicorns. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, pulling out leftovers for an after-hours snack.

  “Everything okay?” Alicia asks.

  Sandy’s staring at me, too, waiting for my answer.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” It’s true and not true. Complicated, like everything else.

  Mom hollers from the kitchen, “Cassie called. She wants you to call her back.”

  I plop on the couch with Alicia and Sandy and dial Cassie’s number. Alicia goes back to the unicorn story, and I let Cassie tell me about a guy she met at the mall. Jessica and Samantha are in the background, and I hear them arguing about which DVD to put in.

  I want to see them. I think I need to see them. “Why don’t you guys come over? Alicia’s here. And my rents are rounding up leftover turkey to munch on.”

  Cassie passes the invite to Jessica and Samantha, including the lure of the leftovers. They make gagging sounds at the suggestion of turkey sandwiches but say they’ll be right over.

  By the time they get here, we’ve started a game of “Go Sandy!” We move to the floor and circle in front of the fireplace.

  “Can you teach us to play, Sandy?” Cassie asks.

  Sandy gives each of my friends her killer smile and hands them a bunch of cards to share. “Your turn now,” she says to Samantha.

  Samantha glances at Jessica, as if asking for help. Jessica shrugs. So Samantha turns to Alicia.

  “Looks like we’ve got some easy marks here, Sandy,” Alicia says. “Some rookie card players. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Sandy complies by asking and receiving everybody’s “boy cards,” followed by their “girl cards.” She sets them down in perfect couples.

  It makes me think of Jackson. I wonder what he’s doing now, if he’s all alone in that house. If he’s thinking of me. If he still loves me.

  Alicia secretly squeezes my elbow. When I look at her, I know she’s reading my mind. And I know she understands.

  I made the right decision.

  “Turkey sandwiches, anyone?” Dad shouts from the kitchen.

  We burst out laughing. “Maybe later, Dad!” I shout back. “Thanks!”

  “Give me all of your cards with kitties on them!” Sandy demands.

  We peer at the backs of our cards, but there aren’t any kitties there, just horses. Sandy looks, too, now, and she’s not happy.

  “Where are the cat cards, kiddo?” Alicia asks.

  “I left them in the car!” Sandy looks as concerned as if she’d forgotten real kittens in the freezing car.

  I hop up off the floor. “I’ll get them.”

  I dash out to the car, retrieve Sandy’s cat cards, and start back in. Snow covers the ground and continues to float down. I shuffle up the white-cushioned sidewalk under a quilt of stars. Christmas music is playing from the house across the street. Through the Ettermeyer picture window, I can see Alicia and Sandy by the fireside, surrounded by The Girls.

  Again, I think of Jackson. With all my heart, I hope he’ll call me. If he doesn’t, I’m thinking M.J. may never speak to me again.

  But I know that’s not true. I’ll be okay no matter what. And M.J. and Plain Jane won’t stop speaking to me. I understand where they’re coming from now. And as I stop at my door and gaze up at the snow-speckled blackness, I’m listening.