Tilt

by Ellen Hopkins

  good friend, Drew, is here. Right now,

  he’s listening. I know, because I’m

  on the floor by my door, eavesdropping.

  They’re in Shelby’s room, which has

  been transformed into an office/sitting

  room with mauve walls and flouncy

  white curtains and plush new carpeting.

  The furniture is white wicker—

  desk, love seat and rocking chair.

  If you ask me, Mom spends way

  too much time in there. Not sure

  what she does, except read. I can’t

  quite let go of Shelby yet, I hear Mom

  say. I have no clue how long it will

  take, or if I’ll ever get over her

  completely. I know I have to do

  something. Get out of the house.

  Get a job. Something. I just don’t

  know what or when or how to pull

  myself away. I feel like she’s still

  here. Still needing me. It’s strange.

  Come on, Drew. Tell it like it is.

  It’s not strange, Missy. She was

  the biggest part of your life for

  the past five years. Take all the time

  you need. He pauses, and then,

  How are things with Chris? Is he

  living up to his end of the bargain?

  Dad’s attentiveness to Mom has

  waned a bit. But will she admit

  that to Drew? Up to a point, I guess.

  He still works really long hours.

  Still travels a lot, too. I’m not sure . . .

  Is he still in the guest room?

  Okay, that was direct. Asking it

  like it is, if not telling it. I’m pretty

  sure Drew won’t want to hear

  Mom’s answer, which is not quick

  to come. No. I told him if we are to

  have any chance at all, we need

  to try and be husband and wife again.

  This pause is even longer. Gaga,

  who has been roaming the house,

  comes through the door, shimmies

  into my lap, purring for attention.

  Finally, Mom says, I’m not sure

  it’s working. I mean, the sex is fine.

  But I can’t say it’s like it used to be

  before . . . her. I don’t know. Maybe

  it’s me. I keep picturing them together.

  Wondering if he’s thinking about her

  when he’s with me. It’s painful.

  But my choices are limited right now.

  I understand, says Drew. I can

  imagine the hurt look in his eyes.

  He totally loves Mom. Just know

  you’ll always have a place with me.

  Way Too Much Information

  All the way around. It’s not like

  I didn’t know about Dad’s affair,

  but I really don’t need the details.

  I am about to get up, move away

  from the door, when I hear Drew

  ask, And how about Shane?

  How’s he doing? Good question,

  one I want to hear Mom answer.

  On the surface, okay. He seems to be

  doing well in school. He and Alex

  are still going strong. But to tell you

  the truth, I’m worried about him.

  It’s like he’s collapsing inward,

  imploding, but without the “bang.”

  Christian says it’s his way of grieving

  and he’ll get over it eventually.

  I hope he’s right. I really do.

  Oh, great. Now I’m a source of worry

  for Mom, too. Like she needs more.

  I Am Such a Loser

  A fucking, no-good piece of crap.

  All I do is feel sorry for myself.

  What about Mom?

  What about Dad?

  And Gram and Gramps

  and everyone else

  who cared about Shelby?

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I should be over this by now.

  But I’m a mess.

  A basket case.

  I want to eat.

  Want to sleep.

  Want to fuck all day

  like a Viagra poster boy.

  And I can’t do any of those things.

  Because, as much as I want to,

  Food just won’t stay down.

  When I sleep, I have nightmares.

  And I can’t fuck because

  when I try all I do is cry.

  Poor Alex

  He wants to help, but doesn’t know

  how, and I have no answers for him.

  Still, I call him because I have no

  one else to call. He’s at work, so I

  get his voice mail. “Please come

  over as soon as you can. I need you.”

  Meanwhile, I gently put Gaga

  on my pillow, scratch her head

  the way she likes. Then I sneak

  past Mom and Drew, who are all

  wrapped up in each other and

  conversation about Dad and me.

  I detour through the kitchen.

  Reach up to raid the alcohol stash.

  Grab the first bottle—like booze

  roulette—and come away with what?

  Absinthe. What the hell is that?

  Guess I’ll find out the hard way.

  I close the back door quietly. Head

  to the trailer, where my weed is stashed.

  I roll a big fatty, light it up and take

  a swig from the bottle. Whoa, Joe!

  Absinthe is strong, and it comes

  out my nose in a giant licorice-

  flavored spray. Licorice and skunk,

  a heady combination. One that tastes

  better when not exhaled in a snort

  from the nostrils. I look at the bottle.

  Seventy percent alcohol. Holy

  crap. On a mostly empty stomach,

  I’m feeling dizzy already. Dizzy

  and happy. And if a little makes me

  happy, a lot should make me

  ecstatic, right? One way to know.

  The Bottle

  Is a third gone when I happen

  to notice the price tag. Sixty-four

  ninety-nine. Yowza! I just drank

  twenty-two dollars’ worth of Absinthe.

  And, you know, I’m close to ecstatic.

  Except now I think about Mom,

  all the crap she’s going through.

  And damn if she isn’t worried

  about me. I am plunging south

  again when someone tries to open

  the door. Good thing I locked it.

  “Who’s there?” Anxiety ripples.

  Did someone smell the weed

  and call the cops? A shimmer

  of fear threatens my buzz. But

  then, It’s me, Shane. You asked

  me to come over, remember?

  Alex. Shit. Duh. My fingers

  don’t want to work. That makes

  me laugh, which only makes it

  totally impossible to open the door.

  “Hang on. I’m trying. Jus’ wait

  right there.” Stupid. Where else

  would he wait? And my speech

  is a little blurred around the edges.

  Finally, success. Alex stands on

  the step, looking half-amused,

  half-concerned. Ah, shit. Um . . .

  Are you okay? He pushes inside.

  Sniffs. What are you drinking?

  “Absinthe. Ever tried it?

  It’s wicked, man.” I offer

  the bottle. He takes a tiny sip.

  Grimaces. Wicked is right.

  How much of that have you had?

  My shrugs says too much. All this?

  I Swear, If He Says

  He’s worrie
d about me,

  I’ll go play in traffic.

  But all he says is, Bet

  you’ll have a headache

  tomorrow morning.

  “Yeah, but maybe I’ll

  actually sleep tonight.”

  You’re having trouble

  sleeping? Maybe you

  should go to a doctor.

  Self-medicating isn’t

  always the best way to go.

  Please don’t say you’re

  worried. “I’ll think about it.”

  He pulls me into his arms,

  and I’m almost positive

  he’s going to say it. But

  instead, he kisses me.

  Maybe I can help you

  fall asleep. Want to try?

  Oh, Yeah, I Do

  And I think maybe just one more

  little taste of wicked strong booze

  will help me become the Viagra

  poster boy instead of a weeping

  fool. I take a swallow. He refuses

  one and I really, really think he’s

  going to say it now. Wait. Wow.

  Am I challenging him on some

  subconscious level? Whatever.

  I leave the bottle by the little sink,

  follow Alex back to the lumpy

  bed. Hungry. But not for food.

  Starving for his body. Famished

  for his love. We tangle together,

  and I am grateful that he takes

  control. I’m a wreck. But less

  of a wreck than I am without

  him. And he never says it, even

  if he wants to. At this moment

  there is no worry. But still, I cry.

  Alex

  Without Him

  Life

  might be easier. He is

  a major complication.

  Something important

  to stress about. But what

  would

  my days be like, emptied

  of him? Scrubbed

  clean of his warped humor.

  His energy. His presence. I

  have

  been in love before and,

  doubtless, would love again.

  But could I love like this—

  overwhelmed, overboard,

  no

  holds barred? He tells me

  he’s fine, that this strange

  condition is temporary.

  Says not to worry. But there is

  meaning

  behind his silence. His binging.

  His extraordinary need. How

  weak is he? And how strong am I?

  Harley

  I Want to Be Strong

  But I swear I’m such a wuss

  when it comes to some stuff.

  Especially, anything having

  to do with Lucas. Pretty much

  whatever he asks, I can’t say no

  to. Case in point. Tonight

  is Halloween. Bri always comes

  over. And we always trick-or-treat

  together. But Lucas wants to see

  me and he’s bringing Kurt along.

  Bri broke up with Kurt weeks ago.

  He keeps touching me in places

  that I don’t want him to touch, she

  explained. He doesn’t understand “no.”

  I wanted to tell her to lighten

  up. That getting touched in those

  places is actually not so bad.

  That she might even like it if

  she just gave it a chance. But

  I didn’t. I wussed out there, too.

  And when she asked about trick-

  or-treating I told her I thought

  we were getting kind of old for it.

  Didn’t want to hurt her feelings

  and say I’d rather hang out with Lucas.

  I’m setting Kurt and Chloe up. Pretty

  sure she won’t mind him touching

  those places. Mom’s driving me

  over to Chloe’s house. Don’t you

  want some dinner first? Or will

  your friend’s parents feed you?

  Chloe lives alone with her dad, who

  works swing shift. But all I say

  is, “I’m good. I had some soup.”

  I Did Have to Lie

  When Mom asked why Bri

  wasn’t coming tonight. “She’s not

  feeling so hot,” I told her. Any other

  year, Mom would have talked to

  Mrs. Carlisle about it. They used

  to be really tight. Something has

  come between them. Not really

  sure what it is, but they don’t go

  out like they used to, or even

  just get together for coffee.

  Which is okay for a short time, but

  not for good. Mom doesn’t have

  a whole lot of friends. She can’t

  afford to lose her best one. Which

  makes me rethink what I’m doing

  tonight. I don’t want to lose my best

  friend, either. Still, plans are plans.

  I’m not changing this one now.

  I’ll call Bri and we can do something

  this weekend. I’ll make it up to her.

  But I Am Curious

  We are almost to Chloe’s when

  I get the nerve to ask Mom, “Did

  you and Mrs. Carlisle have a fight?”

  Mom squirms obvious discomfort.

  Not at all. Holly is just going

  through some stuff right now.

  “You mean, like a midlife crisis?

  That’s what Bri says—that her mom

  is going through a creepy midlife crisis.”

  That makes Mom smile. I don’t

  know about “creepy.” It’s not

  uncommon for women of our age.

  “Did you . . . have you . . . are you

  going through one, too? Is that why

  you and Mrs. Carlisle don’t talk much?”

  Her smile falls away. Harley,

  honey, that’s not it at all. Don’t

  worry. Everything’s okay. Okay?

  Something About Her Denial

  Makes me think everything is not

  okay. But we’ve arrived at Chloe’s.

  Will someone bring you home?

  Don’t forget it’s a school night.

  “I have a ride home and I promise

  not to be out past eleven.” I watch

  Mom drive away before going to

  the door. Chloe answers in a French

  maid’s costume that shows off pretty much

  everything. “Wow. You’re brave.”

  Always good to make a great first

  impression. Kurt is worth impressing?

  “Oh, yeah.” Not as worthy as Lucas, who

  I really hope she doesn’t impress as much

  as I think she might. My vampire outfit

  is sexy, but not completely see-through.

  I totally have to quit wussing out.

  “Can I go change?” She points to a hall

  bathroom. Help yourself. Want

  a beer? I’m going to have one.

  “Your father lets you have beer?”

  I call from the far side of the bathroom

  door. Sort of, she calls back. He buys

  twenty-four packs. Doesn’t miss them.

  One beer couldn’t hurt, right?

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” I only tasted

  beer once. Mom thought she was

  teaching me a lesson, and I guess

  it worked. The beer was the color

  of coffee. And it tasted like how cat

  pee smells. I took a couple of big sips

  anyway. Haven’t touched beer since.

  This Beer Is Light

  Colored, and its smell isn’t obnoxious.

  And, though I told Mom I had eaten,

  that was an
other lie. Half the can

  makes me fuzzy-headed. I’ve started

  on the second half when the doorbell

  rings. Chloe steps back to let the boys

  in. Lucas, who is dressed in a black

  duster, boots and cowboy hat, checks

  her out. Whistles. Well, hello there.

  You can clean my bedroom any

  time. Long as I’m in it! Now he looks

  at me. You look pretty good, too.

  Wow. Nice. Guess I should make

  the introductions. “That’s Lucas.

  And that’s Kurt. And thish is Chloe.”

  My mouth is a little fuzzy, too.

  Lucas notices. Wait a minute.

  What’s that in your hand? Miller

  Lite? I thought you didn’t drink.

  You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?

  The Guys Want a Beer, Too

  Chloe goes to the kitchen, and

  I follow her. “Won’t your dad miss

  those?” The last thing I need is for

  her dad to tell my mom I’ve been

  drinking. But she says, Nah. He never

  keeps track. Can’t drink it all, though.

  “I can’t drink any more than this

  one. I can’t miss school tomorrow.

  I’ve got a history test.” Chloe rolls

  her eyes. I know. I’m in your class,

  remember? Don’t worry. We won’t

  get drunk on a beer or two. She might

  not, but I’m feeling pretty buzzed.

  She hands me a can for Lucas, and

  we go back to the boys, who down

  their beers in a couple of big swigs.

  Lucas drapes his arm around my shoulder.

  Ready for a little Halloween fun?

  His hand drops down over my boob,

  and his fingers obviously play

  with my nipple and I’m worried

  that he thinks this beer means I’m

  going to have sex with him, right here,

  right now. “Uh . . . What kind of fun?”

  Seriously? Trick-or-treating,

  of course. Emphasis on the “tricks.”

  That makes me just a little nervous,

  but I can’t say no. Chloe stashes

  the beer cans outside in the recycling

  bin and we all pile into Lucas’s car.

  The first thing he does is light up

  a pipe stuffed with pot. He passes it

  to me, and for a change I go ahead

  and take a small puff before handing

  it over the seat to Kurt. Chloe giggles

  and inhales a big drag. Good stuff,