Delia didn’t quit her job. She was too embarrassed. She couldn’t think of a viable reason why she would void the teaching contract that she was only three weeks into. Instead, she used up all her sick leave and took the next week off. She stayed in bed and ate ice cream while watching the Mary Kay Letourneu story over and over again trying to figure out how her life had gotten so screwed up.
After the depression phase, she went into the rationalizing stage. No one knew about the affair. She could deny it ever happened. As long as it never happened again, she was safe. And it definitely would never happen again. Chase now repulsed her. Besides the fact that he was a liar, from what she’d heard about his reputation, he was a little too much like her soon-to-be ex-husband. She wanted nothing to do with him.
At 10:30 on Friday night, Delia awoke to someone pounding on her door.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Donna Lee while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
Donna Lee disapprovingly surveyed Delia’s blue cloud pajama pants and top. “It’s 10:00 on a Friday night and you’re dressed like a three-year-old and in bed sleeping already.” Donna Lee pushed past her sister into the small studio apartment. She walked into the combination living room/bedroom and plopped two outfits on the bed. “Pick one.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going out.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve had a stressful week and all I want to do is sleep.” She pushed the outfits aside and crawled into bed, covering herself with the blankets.
“You’re a beautiful 25-year-old woman. You should be out enjoying yourself, not sleeping your life away,” Donna Lee said after whipping the sheets off the bed.
“I’m not single, I’m not divorced, I’m … I’m … ” She wanted to say something to the effect that she was a pedophile who had been dumped by her husband, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“You’re going out with me, now get up and get dressed.”
After choosing the least skanky of the two outfits that Donna Lee brought over, Delia dressed and went out for a night on the town with her sister.
Given the fact that both Delia and Donna Lee had extremely low tolerances for alcohol, Donna Lee never wanted to drive to a club. Neither of them made the best designated driver. Instead, they walked to the Black Cat, a bar and dance club two blocks away from Delia’s apartment.
“Will you get that depressed look off of your face?” Donna Lee asked after they sat down and started sipping club soda. “You look like I forced you to come here or something.”
Delia gave her sister an incredulous look. “You did force me.”
“Well, now that we’re here, at least try to pretend that you want to enjoy yourself.” Donna Lee tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder and surveyed the club, probably searching for her next prey. She did her little patented ‘sexy shoulder dance’ as she called it, which she believed was a foolproof method to get men to ask her to dance. Not two seconds later, a tall black man strutted toward their table.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Donna Lee chanted as a look of shock or horror crept over her face. Delia couldn’t decide which.
“What? Is he an ex or something?” Delia tried to get a good look at him through the crowd but he didn’t seem familiar. Of course that meant nothing. He could still be one of Donna Lee’s ex-boyfriends. She doubted she had even met half the men on her sister’s conquest list.
“No. It’s Marcus Anderson.”
“Who?”
“Marcus Anderson. The Marcus Anderson of the Washington Nationals. I met him today after practice and told him where I would be. I didn’t think he’d actually come.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who that is. I don’t watch football.”
Donna Lee glared at her sister. “It’s baseball, Dee. Marcus Anderson is the second baseman with the cute ass I’ve been talking about.”
The Marcus Anderson stopped to sign several autographs while Donna Lee stared at him like she wanted to put him on a plate and eat him.
“Oh, please don’t ditch me tonight for him. And my place is really too small if you were thinking you could just stop by for a quick rendezvous.”
Delia watched as Donna Lee’s baseball player waved at them then stopped at the bar to place an order. She was so busy trying to get a glimpse of his butt to find out what was so mesmerizing about it that she didn’t notice her sister’s demeanor change.
“How could you say that to me?”
“What?”
“You think I’m some sort of slut, don’t you?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. I just — ”
“God, Dee. You think you’re the only one that has problems.” With that, Donna Lee scooted out of the booth and stormed towards the exit. Marcus Anderson set the drinks he had just ordered back on the counter and chased after her.
What was that about, Delia thought?
Partly out of laziness, but mostly out of boredom, Delia stayed in the booth and people watched. Everyone in the club seemed so young and carefree. She envied them. How many of them had to go through a divorce and then the stigma of falling in love with a teenager while on the rebound? Granted, the teenager ordeal wasn’t her fault. The teenager had lied and misrepresented himself. The teenager had purposely trapped her. The teenager … the teenager was there … in the club … dancing. Delia nearly choked on her water.
Delia crossed her arms and slouched in her seat trying to hide from Chase’s view. The last thing she needed was for him to spot her and decide to talk to her.
She studied his movements while he was on the dance floor. How could he be so completely different? While on the cruise, he was the perfect gentleman. They danced to classic 1950s music and held hands under the moonlight and above the sea. He seemed sweet, genuine, and caring. Now, as he gyrated on the floor with two or three girls at once, he just seemed like a typical hormone crazed adolescent. How could she have been so blind? Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.
Chase must have felt Delia’s glare piercing through him. He turned in her direction and locked eyes with her. The shock of her presence was evident as the smile on his face quickly waned. He stumbled off beat for a moment then expertly regained his composure and turned away as if he never saw her in the first place. He chugged his beer then crushed the can on his head, much to the delight of the three blondes he danced with. He whispered something into each of their ears, making them smile even more, then all three of them disappeared into the crowd.
Relieved, Delia sighed and went back to sipping her water alone in the booth. I better get used to this, she thought. Looks like I’m going to be alone for a long time.
“What are you doing here?” Chase asked as he sat down next to her. “This doesn’t strike me as your kind of place.”
“What am I doing here? I’m not the one who’s seventeen. How did you even get in this place?”
Chase looked over his shoulder suspiciously and said, “I’m not even the only Saxon Arms student here. They’re called fake ID’s and they’re really not that hard to come by.”
“Who are looking for, Chase?” Delia asked when he continued to look around.
“No one. Look.” Chase turned and stared directly into Delia’s eyes. For a moment, he forgot what he wanted to say. “Um, you can’t call me Chase anymore. It’ll seem weird if the only person that calls me by a different name is my math teacher. No one can know that we … know each other. It’ll ruin my … my … image.
Delia was stunned. He was worried about his image? What was so important about his silly little high school reputation? She was the one that faced jail time! And besides, what high school boy wouldn’t want it to get out that he had slept with his teacher? It didn’t make any sense.
Chase, or C.J. rather, stood to leave then he stopped and looked at her again. “I … I … ” Instead of finishing his thought, he dashed out of the club.
After his quick d
eparture, Delia let her eyes wander, looking for these supposed other Saxon Arms students. Sure enough, she spotted Angie and Ian trying to sneak out unnoticed.
***
“So what does C.J. stand for?” Angie asked Monday morning as she sat on his lap before class started. Angie took every opportunity to touch him and flirt with him that she could. She was still trying to win that bet and get C.J. to ask her to Homecoming. She had to work fast. It was only three days away.
“Chase Jordan,” C.J. said, trying to act like he didn’t care that a beautiful girl was sitting on his lap. The fact was he did care, but not in the way she wanted him to care. He found Angie extremely annoying. He had absolutely no interest in her, but he had to flirt back in order to keep up his image.
“That is so sexy,” Angie crooned as she tousled his dark shaggy hair. C.J. glanced over at Delia, hoping she heard what his real name first name was. At least he hadn’t lied about that.
Delia stared intently at her computer, pretending she wasn’t listening to Angie and C.J. The truth was, she was completely enthralled with their conversation. There were a few questions she wanted to ask herself but couldn’t.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Normally, C.J. would have responded with one of the many lies that clouded his life, but for Delia’s sake he gave an honest answer.
“Nope, no girlfriend.”
“Really? I heard you were dating three different college girls.”
“Well, I did meet someone special this summer, but it didn’t work out.” C.J. looked at Delia again. He hoped she heard all that.
“Are you going to the homecoming dance?” Angie asked boldly.
“Dances aren’t really my thing,” C.J. said with charming aloofness. What he meant was high school dances weren’t really his thing. He loved to dance, especially with Delia.
“Ms. Clark, are you still chaperoning the dance?” Courtney asked. C.J. waited attentively for her response which was a simple nod of the head. Maybe he would make an exception this time.
***
“So what’s with you and the school teacher?” Sammy asked as he poured himself another mixture of Kahlua, Bailey’s Irish cream, and Peach Schnapps. It was his own special concoction, which everyone else in the world thought was disgusting.
Chase finished his third screwdriver in an hour and wondered to himself when he’d start to feel it. Sometimes he hated having such a high tolerance for alcohol. On a night like this he just wanted to drink his problems away. “Remember the girl I told you about? The one I met on the cruise?”
“You’re kidding.” Sammy looked at his best friend to make sure he wasn’t joking. “What the hell are the odds of that happening?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what the odds are because it happened.” Chase bitterly picked up the video controller and started the next game without even waiting for Sammy to get in place.
“Wow, that’s gotta complicate matters. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
Chase shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t. What if she finds out the truth? She can screw up the whole operation.”
“She won’t find out. Everything will be fine.”
Sammy scrambled to the couch and picked up his controller. Within seconds, he was already beating Chase.
“You suck at this game. You haven’t beaten me in six years.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Chase said with determination, putting his frustration into the cartoon fighting character on screen.
“We really shouldn’t be playing around anyway. We should be working.”
“I am working. I do some of my best thinking right here in your basement in front of this TV.” They played a few moments with only the sounds of a clicking video controller and a few manly grunts. “What could be a problem is her husband,” Chase said suddenly without taking his eyes off of the TV.
“Husband? Not only is she your math teacher, but she’s married.”
“Kinda married. The guy is a sleaze. In fact, I think he’s a client.”
Sammy paused the game and glared at Chase. “A client? You’re in love with the wife of a client?”
“Who said anything about love?”
Sammy tossed his controller on the floor and stood up to make himself another drink. “Kid, I’ve known you your whole life. You’re in love and it just might get us both in a whole lot of trouble.”
Chapter 8
Delia and Donna Lee rarely fought. But when they did, Delia knew it was better to give her feisty sister a few days to cool off before seeking a reconciliation. This tiff had especially baffled Delia. They always joked about Donna Lee’s sex life and she never got offended before. But after careful consideration, Delia decided that her comment may have been a little insensitive so she decided to make the first move and apologize. She desperately needed her best friend back to help her figure out what to do about Chase.
After knocking several times with no response, Delia decided to use her key to enter her sister’s apartment. Being 4:00 on a Monday afternoon, she knew she’d be home from work soon. The apartment was its usual mess and Delia thought she would straighten up a little while she waited when she heard something from Donna Lee’s bedroom. Stepping over a few random pairs of shoes lying on the living room floor, Delia approached her sister’s room and heard the noise again. It sounded like a whimper. Was her sister crying? Donna Lee never cried.
Slowly pushing the door open so as not to startle her, Delia peered into the room. The lights were out and the setting sun only provided enough illumination for Delia to make out Donna Lee curled up in an armchair by the window.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Delia crossed the room and sat on the edge of the chair. She tried to stroke her hair but Donna Lee jumped out of the seat.
“I’m fine. What are you doing in here?” she snapped, wiping her face with her hands then tightening the straps on her red silk bathrobe.
“I let myself in. I came to apologize for Friday night.”
Donna Lee crossed her arms and stared out of the window as if she hadn’t even heard Delia’s comment.
“If this is about what I said at the club, I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a slut, Donna Lee. I would never think that about you.” Delia approached her sister and rubbed her back.
With a shrug, Donna Lee said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a slut.”
Her dry matter-of-fact tone worried Delia. She sounded truly depressed.
“Okay, that’s it. We’re gonna sit down and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” Delia led her sister to the bed and sat her down.
After a few silent moments, Donna Lee said, “Do you remember Brad? The guy I dated about two years ago?” Her voice was a whisper. Delia was so gripped with worry she found it difficult to try to focus enough to remember one of her sister’s many exes.
“Um, was he the weightlifter from Poughkeepsie?”
“No, that was Brandon. Brad was the hockey player with the ponytail.”
“Oh, okay. Why are you upset over him? You were only together for like a month, right?”
“He called me last week.”
“And? Does he want to get back together or something?”
Donna Lee shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, fighting tears. Delia knew her sister hated to appear vulnerable. She’d barely shed a tear in the seventh grade when she fractured her hand playing softball.
She took slow deep breaths with her eyes closed but she still didn’t respond to Delia’s question.
“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” She stroked her sister’s long dark hair trying to comfort her.
“He has HIV.”
“Oh God, Lee-Lee,” Delia said, wrapping her arms around her sister and using the pet name she hadn’t used since they were eleven.
“He says he doesn’t know when he got it so he doesn’t know if he was infected when we were together.”
“Oh,
Lee-Lee,” was all Delia could think to say.
“What am I gonna do, Dee? What if I have AIDS and die? Would anyone even care? I’m not married, I have no children, no legacy. No one to carry on a piece of me.”
“Donna Lee, I love you more than anything in the world. We can get through this, okay?”
“I’m so scared.”
“I know you are, but I’m here for you. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be there for you.”
The two sisters cried in each other’s arms until the sun set and left them in complete darkness. Finally, Delia started to compose herself and reached for some tissues on Donna Lee’s cluttered nightstand.
Nobody Girl Page 6