Wow. I’m breaking news and I’m not even home.
I slip into Ethel’s drive and she opens the back door for me.
“I remembered about the dogs and all the cats and realized you’d be back.” She shoos me into her kitchen. “We have a plan. Dom and Jeff are standing by. Casey and Jessica are ready too.”
“A plan to do what?”
“To get you past the crowd of vultures, of course.”
A few minutes later, Dom storms out of his house like a drunken parade marshal. “All right!” He teeters toward the lights and cameras. “Enough is enough! You’ve been here all night, and you made your stupid report! Now get out!”
Jeff makes a good show of trying to restrain him, and when Casey and Jessica join the fray, everyone is captivated by the brewing domestic violence. On foot, I skulk across the street, sneak along the drive, and vault the fence into the back yard. Aaron and Christian flank me all the way to the back door. I hear how hoarse they are from barking all night, and I want to KILL someone. I run into the kitchen to refill both their water bowls. Then I make my way through the house closing curtains as I go before I flick on the lights.
I hear the buzz outside as I light up my house. Ha! You stupid gossip hounds. Outsmarted by the mentally impaired.
The phone rings.
Jack!
“Hello?”
“You got in all right?” Ethel.
“Yeah. Thanks, Ethel. And Dom and Jeff, and Casey and Jessica, too. I…”
“Well, it’s been a hard day. Goodnight, Lisa.”
I hang up. No Jack.
I look at my cell.
No messages.
I check the machine on the counter between the kitchen and dining room.
A message! The red light blinks out one message. I hit the play button.
“Lisa.”
Mom?
“You’re brain damaged and you never told us? We have to find out with everyone else? Is this your idea of revenge? Making us look ridiculous? If you’re planning to get back the money just because you’re brain damaged, well, we didn’t even know about it. See how far you get!”
I throw the machine against my beautifully papered wall as hard as I can.
One by one, I find all the animals, petting, calming and soothing as I go. Then, I feed them all. Then, I scoop the litter boxes. Then, I do dishes, vacuum, and take a shower.
Still. No. Jack.
I try his cell.
Nothing.
I sweep the floors, dust, make the bed.
Still nothing.
I sit down on my couch and let it hit me like a tidal wave. Jack has abandoned me.
CHAPTER 24
I scrub my skin pink in the shower then I make sure my hair is nicely dried and fluffed. I get dressed and brush my teeth. I peek through the living room sheers. Two days of my hiding, and still they lurk, those vampires waiting for the most embarrassing photo op. But they’re not going to get one. Not this time.
As I have for the past thirty hours, I get some food from the kitchen and settle in front of the TV to watch season after season of DVDs. No TV news, no radio, no net. I don’t want to know.
The doorbell rings. The dogs bark and scuffle. I stay right where I am but crank up the volume to drown out the dogs. In a second, I’ll call the cops to get whoever it is off my porch. But not until the end of the episode. This is the one where David speaks in Dr. Seuss rhyme to the maître d’.
The doorbell rings again. The dogs are still barking, so I turn the TV up even louder.
“Lisa!” A muffled voice through the door. “It’s me, Mia!” My head whips around toward the door. I get up, approach it slowly, and press my eye to the peephole. It is indeed Mia.
But I cannot let her in. I can’t.
“Lisa!”
Then I hear the swarm descending on her, shouting questions at her. Those hyenas are attacking Mia! I yank open the door and she slips in. I slam the door and there we stand, facing one another.
But what can I say to her? In the past few days I’ve completely ignored her for her own good. Now I’ve let her into my house, which can lead only to her destruction.
Mia looks over at the TV. “Is that Bruce Willis?” She walks toward the screen. “What movie is this?”
“It’s Moonlighting. A TV show.”
“Bruce Willis was in a TV show?”
“Made him famous,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yup. Won an Emmy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
We stand there.
“Uh…” I look at the TV. “The guy from Breaking Away is in this episode.”
“What’s Breaking Away?” she asks.
“Movie from the seventies.”
“Oh.”
“About bikes.”
“Oh.” She nods. “Cool.”
I pick up the remote and turn off the TV. “Mia, you should go. Everyone thinks I’m brain damaged, and anyone who knows you’ve been hanging out with me will think the worst. Whatever that is.”
Mia laughs, as if in relief. “It’s okay.”
“Mia, I’m sorry for shutting you out.” I step closer to her and take her hands. “It breaks my heart every time I don’t answer the phone or respond to your emails. I know you must hate me for dissing you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She shrugs. “You never would. Don’t take the blame for what the butt-head Media is doing.”
“Mia, it’s not so simple.”
She laughs. “Lisa, chill. We’re cool.”
“We’re cool?” I can barely process what she’s saying. I feel cold and weird and inept. “I don’t want us to be cool! I’m poison, Mia. Every life I touch right now—”
“Is better off,” she says. “I am, for sure. And I don’t want to lose you over this. And I don’t want you to be alone. I know it probably doesn’t matter anymore, a kid from across the street when all this other stuff is happening, but—”
“Mia,” I say, ”Of course you matter! I’m doing this for you. You have no idea what it feels like when they get a hold of you. It hurts. The humiliation is so extreme, and you just want to die all the time.”
“You survived it once. I can be a survivor, too.”
“This is not a club I want you to join,” I tell her. “Your parents will say I ruined your life, and they'll be right.”
Mia throws her arms around me, hugging me fiercely. “You didn’t ruin my life.” She pulls away, a huge, sparkly smile on her face. “What do I want more than anything in the world?”
“Huh?”
The light in her eyes positively twinkles. “What do I want more than anything in the world?”
“Uh…a boyfriend?”
“Yes!” she squeals. “And I got one!”
“What? When? How?”
“I don’t even know! His name is Rob Yeager, and I’ve known him forever, and he was just so nice to me when everyone else started making fun of me a few days ago and saying the meanest things. So see? You can’t protect me because kids in school already know I’m your friend and no WAY the Media could be worse than them. Anyway, as it turns out, Rob’s liked me since, like, seventh grade. He’s one of the smart kids, kind of skinny, and quiet. I never really thought of him that way before.” She blushes then, from the collar of her shirt to the roots of her hair. “But you know,” she says quickly, “he reminds me of Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Rob just…he just does his own thing, you know? He’s, like, totally oblivious to what anyone else does. He’s cool, but for real, not fake cool. Like Jack. Jack’s not fake cool, either. He just does his own thing.”
I look at Mia. I don’t say anything. What can I say? Mia, Jack is a fraud. Mia, Jack is off doing his own thing when I just want him to call me. Mia, he’s not as oblivious as you think.
“Oh, God,” Mia says, looking at me. “Oh, God. It’s Jack. He’s the reason you look so sad.” Mia pulls me over to the co
uch and sits me down with her. “What did he do, Lisa?”
She looks around. “He was at the Ritz Carlton with you. He’s in this thing, too. Where is he?”
I allow myself to go so still I feel numb. Then my quiet voice drifts along. “I haven’t seen him or talked to him since Monday night.”
“What did he say?”
Stop following me. Go home.
I blink at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“I can miss first period. So, wait. What about after the party?”
“Have you had breakfast?” I ask, getting up and moving to the kitchen.
“No,” she says, running ahead of me to open the fridge. “After the party?”
“We, uh, spent the rest of the weekend together.” I pull the coffee pot toward me. “I don't know if I should tell you that, but–” My voice is small and high. I’m making it all sound so lame. And what the hell am I doing—telling a teenager about my sex life?
“Then the story breaks and he drops you?”
I don’t say anything.
“What is his problem?!” Mia slams the refrigerator door. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t talking to reporters, but—”
“He’s not?”
Mia stops pacing and turns to me. “Lisa, aren’t you following your own story?”
“No.” My voice is calm and quiet, like a cold morning with a hush of snow on the ground. “And it’s not my story.”
“I know, I know. I mean, I know you’re not mentally impaired. But you have to admit, one part of the story is true.”
“What do you mean?”
Mia giggles. “You’re a terrible dancer. We both are.”
She walks over to the DVD player, pops out Moonlighting. She yanks a CD out of her bag and puts it in the DVD player. As My Chemical Romance pulses through the room, she turns to look at me, her face glowing with an eager smile. I can’t help it.
We dance and dance and dance.
* * * * *
After Mia heads out to make second period, I go to my room, where I grab jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
I have to get to work.
I’m not naïve enough to think that the Media storm will have no effect on the consortium plan. But I must save HEYA, even if it means bowing out. I don’t matter, but the community investment must go forward. The meeting to sign the agreement is set for tomorrow, and I’m not about to let that be affected by rumor and wildly inaccurate conjecture. I’ve met with every one of the investors. They know I’m not mentally impaired. One of them wants to date me, for Pete’s sake.
Ten minutes later, after some Rambo-esque moves through the backyards and across the streets of my neighborhood, I back the Lincoln out of Ethel’s driveway, waving good-bye to Dalton. I wish I could drive my own car. I could use a friend right about now. But at least all is calm and silent inside the pristine Lincoln. And nobody can link me to this old lady car.
I’m heading down Alvarado toward HEYA when someone honks at me. Okay, maybe I am driving too slowly, but I’m not about to sideswipe Ethel’s boat into a row of parked cars just to accommodate some speed demon who’s late for work.
Hooonk!
Jeez.
Honk! Honk!
Now I’m getting scared. Nobody can possibly know it’s me in the car. But creating a scene on such a major road is no way to stay inconspicuous. My eyes dart to the curb, looking for a place to dock until traffic can pass me.
Honk, honk.
More sedate this time. I look in the rear view mirror.
Jack.
He’s in his truck right behind me, waving his arm across the front of his body. I put on my blinker and pull off onto the nearest side street. I drive along a block dotted with small houses and dirt yards with chain link fencing until I find a spot long enough for both of us to pull over.
As soon as I slam the car into park, I jump out and race over to Jack. I am going to KILL him.
He’s barely stepped down from the truck when I throw my arms around him.
“Jack!” But Jack doesn’t hug me back.
I pull back, feeling frozen and sick.
Jack puts his hands on my shoulders and sets me further away from him. “Lisa.” His voice is just as unyielding as his stiff, un-hugging body.
I stand back, my arms hanging at my sides. This can't be happening. I will not lose Jack over this. “Jack,” I say, “just tell me what’s wrong and I will fix it.”
“What’s WRONG?” He slams the door of his truck then punches it.
I jump. “I know what’s wrong, but why are you being so mean? It’s not my fault. This all happened because—”
“It happened because we were fucking all weekend while everyone one else was busy putting together a story about you!”
“And you’re blaming me?”
“I’m blaming us.”
“Will you stop yelling at me? I’m the victim. Everyone thinks I’m retarded.”
“No, Lisa,” Jack says. “That was two days ago. Aren’t you even keeping up with your own story?”
“It’s not my story.”
“Lisa, they know we were at the hospital.”
“Huh?”
“That first day when we did the helicopter and the ocean.”
“So?”
“So now everyone thinks I bashed you on the head so I can get your millions.”
“What?”
But he doesn’t say anything else. I wonder if he even can. I mean, he looks really upset.
Jack Hawkins looks bothered.
“Wait,” I say, “what do you mean, ‘everyone?’ Why do you care what they think? You didn’t bash me on the head. And I’ve never given you a dime.”
“I know that.”
“REALLY?” Now I’m shouting. “Because you’re not acting like it! Jesus, Jack! Where were you yesterday and the past two nights? You never even called!”
“Lisa, this is serious!”
“Jack, this is life! Deal with it!”
He blasts me with his stare. “This is life? No, Lisa, this is not life. This is some trumped-up nightmare.”
“Jack. You’ve scaled mountains with no ropes, for Christ’s sake. This isn’t that bad.” I huff and puff, trying to believe what I’m hearing from this man. “Have you really made it this far in life without having any idea what it feels like for people to laugh at you and say bad things about you?”
“Jesus, Lisa, don’t even try to say you get it. We’re not talking about wearing the wrong sneakers to school or everybody seeing a picture of me that makes me look fat!”
The silence echoes like the aftermath of a sonic boom. Could he possibly make me sound more pathetic?
My voice gets quiet, but it’s enforced with the knowledge that Jack Hawkins totally SUCKS as a human being and definitely as a boyfriend. “We’re talking about everyone having the wrong idea about you, and you don’t like it.”
“We’re talking about everyone being wrong about me and being appalled and disgusted. And believe me, I know exactly how that feels.”
“I get it,” I say. “I’m just another glaring example of how your forged relationships are nothing but disaster.”
Jack just looks at me, wide-eyed and unblinking. “Can you deny it?”
“I didn’t do anything mean to you,” I grind out. “I’m not like your parents or Luz or her parents. I didn’t hurt you.”
“This isn’t about you hurting me. It’s about what I did to you.”
This stops me cold. “To me?”
“I get close to people and ruin their lives.”
“Are you saying that you abandoned me for my sake?”
Jack slams his fist into his truck door again. “Griselda and Edgar? I killed their dreams and ruined their lives. And I wasn’t even trying.”
“A few days ago you wanted to be my boyfriend, and now you’re trying to convince me it’s too risky? And I don’t even get a say?”
“This isn’t about whether I want to be your boyf
riend or not!”
“No, I guess not.” I lean my butt against the car, watch the traffic on Alvarado. “Just like how for your parents it was never about spending time with a whiny kid. Or for Luz it wasn’t about changing her life for the guy in her bed.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine.” I push off the car and get all up in his face. “I don’t even want you anymore. There are PLENTY of people out there who think I don’t matter, so what the hell do I need you for?”
I storm my way back to my car.
“It’s all about you, as usual.”
I turn around. “Not this time. This time, I wanted it to be all about us. What a stupid, ridiculous fantasy.”
I yank open my door but Jack slams it shut, almost jerking my arm out with the reversal of such vicious momentum. “Can you just stop thinking about yourself for a second and look at the big picture? Almost half my employees walked out yesterday. God knows what they’re planning to do with their shares. All because they think I’ve seduced you, bashed you on the head, and now I’m after your money. The papers are talking about bringing me up on charges, for God’s sake. My company is slipping away, the world thinks I’m Claus von Bulow, and you want to talk about our relationship?”
“That’s where it all started, Jack. With us. And we could survive this, if you gave us the chance.”
“Are you even listening to me? I’m losing Into the Wild, and I’m about to be indicted!”
“Will you get a grip!” I shout back. “I’m not mentally impaired, Jack! Remember? There is NOTHING to indict you for. It’s all just what everyone thinks. Which I guess counts now when it’s about you and Into the Wild. Now, all of a sudden, what people think matters.”
“I can’t talk to you.”
He stomps back to his truck.
“You WON’T talk to me. All you do is yell. Or ignore me. And I never did ANYTHING to hurt you!”
But he’s back in his truck, pulling away from me.
Jack Fucking Hawkins. The hero with issues. I could see it way back in the beginning. I could. That first day I chased him up the mountain, I knew he was just a guy. But still I blundered forward. As if Romeo and Juliet might end differently this time. Every time, I hope it will end differently.
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