Incense and Peppermints

by Constantine, Cathrina

  “You going to the park?” he inquired.

  “Tom’s picking me up at nine.” Looking at the clock hanging over the stove, I had over an hour to kill. “Can I make you something to eat?” I sounded like Mom, hustling to do Stevie’s bidding.

  “Toast would be nice.” He fingered his bandages. “I’m going to go to the park. I’ll call Tom and tell him you’re going with me.”

  “You’re going looking like that?” My tone broke into a high-pitched squeak. “There will be all kinds of questions and…and junk.” It was a family thing, and I didn’t want the whole village to know. Pacing to the breadbox, I slipped two slices into the toaster.

  “So let them ask,” he said snottily. “Do you think I plan on hiding in the house? Dad should’ve thought of that before he broke my nose.”

  “You should’ve just kept your mouth shut.”

  “I’m sick of his bullshit.” He ran his fingers over his arm. “I’m thinking of going away with Phoenix. She’s going to California, and she asked me to go.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? Is that what you want to do?”

  “I think so. I need to get away from here for a while.”

  Perhaps he was right.

  By nine-thirty, Stevie and I drove through Como Park. The clouds had dissipated, and a soft shine littered the area, dissolving the frost.

  It wasn’t difficult to find the allocated shelter because a mob of vehicles packed the lane. As Stevie pulled in, the wheels crackled on the stoned surface, and I identified scores of seniors. When the hoity-toity girls saw me disembarking from the car, their expressions turned into boorish scowls.

  So, I wasn’t a senior. Sick of feeling intimidated, I threw them my own smug jutting chin. I’m a pint-sized hard chick. Deal with it. People were pitching horseshoes and more were throwing lawn darts, and Candy, Dee, and Gwen were on the swings. The bulk of seniors were yammering under the roofed shelter attempting to be heard over the music.

  The idea of drinking beer for breakfast turned my stomach. Nevertheless, Jesse thrust a cold bottle into my hands, and a fuzzy smile trimmed his face. Did our friend talk mean nadda to him? I couldn’t decide if he was being an insufferable pushy pain in the ass, or this was his friendly side.

  Merciful chords of condolences for my brother and his bandaged nose fed into my ears. I frowned, expecting him to divulge an appalling truth of Dad’s mean uppercut. Stevie had a shit-eating grin plastered beneath his bandages, as he reveled in the girl’s ardent attention. He explained a night of wild carousing, which had caused him to merit a broken nose. His trumped-up story wasn’t precisely a fib.

  Boys grinning stupidly collected around him, supportive of my brother’s dense behavior, and groveling girls clung to his arms. “You should’ve seen the other guy,” said Stevie with a blend of a groan and a chuckle. “Rough night.” He’d kept the secret. His eyes swooped to meet mine, gracing me with a complacent smirk.

  My friends had loped under the shelter, offering my brother worrisome flattery.

  Candy caressed his chin saying, “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. You’re poor gorgeous face. Does it hurt?”

  “Only when I smile.” He tipped his beer to his mouth.

  I flanked his side and said, “Should you be drinking when you’re taking pain medicine?”

  “Please...” he said as if I was brainless.

  “C’mon, Mary,” Dee broke in, “let’s beat Gracie to the swings.”

  Dee and Gwen jettisoned from the shelter, passing Gracie and another girl and claiming dibs on the swings Gracie swore under her breath, and since I was trailing after my amigos with beer in hand, she blasted me with murderous eyes.

  Uppity seniors.

  Candy had stayed to talk with Stevie while “Incense and Peppermints” reverberated over the land.

  I adored the song, so I danced a two-step to the swing set. “It looks like the weather is going to cooperate,” I said, gazing at the periwinkle sky, which disturbingly reminded me of Michael’s eyes.

  I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall to the ground, and righted the hem of my long-sleeved sweater that had ridden up over my belt.

  “It’s going to be a mind-fucking day.” A swinging Gwen hopped off her swing and landed with a sure-footed thump. “Yeah, baby!” she said with her arms in the air, triumphant. Turning, she flopped her stomach on the seat and floated like a trapeze artist.

  “Michael’s not here,” Dee stated, looking at me. “Do you think he’s coming?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I claimed the swing next to her.

  Gwen had reversed her swinging procedure; her butt was now on the seat as she pumped her legs. “We should do this after a couple of beers.”

  “I’d probably hurl,” I said.

  A chest rumbling noise had us sprinting our heads in its direction. A motorcycle zoomed past the shelter. Michael’s eyes were shielded with reflective sunglasses and his ebony hair flapped in the wind. Conducting a hazardous U-turn, he zipped into the lot, with the cycle’s spinning wheels raining pebbles.

  A leggy Carla was snuggled behind him, hugging his leather jacket. She was holding on for dear life, even though the bike was at a standstill. Michael disentangled her arms from his waist, and Carla crossed a shapely leg over the seat.

  Dee’s swing had slowed like a lifeless pendulum, and prior to coming to a complete stop, she bounced off. Even Gwen had toed the ground, splashing dirt over her shoes. She jaunted to catch Dee and waved for me to follow. Shaking my head, I stayed put and watched from afar. My plan was not to become one of Michael’s groupies.

  Boys began teeming around, appraising the motorcycle, and girls jockeyed for a ride. Monty pushed a beer into Michael hand, and I saw his dimpled smile from my swing. Two days before, his smile had been for me, and those lips had been on mine.

  After drinking the last ounce of my beer, I saw Candy was hitching a ride with Michael. A jealous twinge had its way with my heart, and I wanted to kick myself for it. While they were joyriding, I took the occasion to scrounge another beer.

  “How you doing, Mary?”

  “Fine,” I said to Greg Putnam.

  In the process of revisiting my secluded swing and de-tabbing my beer, I noticed I had a follower.

  Greg said, “Mind if I join you?”

  “It’s a free country.”

  I set the pace, and he stepped in line. Together, we strolled devoid of speaking. The earsplitting motorcycle returned, but I didn’t turn. By the time I reached the swing set, Dee had taken Candy’s spot. Standing on strong legs, Michael leaned the bike sideways and revved the motor. The wheels skidded as he drove with Dee’s arms around him, her chin shelved on his shoulder.

  “Wanna push?”

  I jumped out of my skin, completely entranced with Michael, I’d forgotten about Greg.

  “Okay.”

  I handed him my beer, which he inserted into the yellowing grass. From behind me, his hands griped each side of the swings seat next to my hips. He pulled the swing backwards, then pushed.

  I straightened my legs and felt the cool air on my face as my hair flagged in the breeze. When the swing whooshed downward, he thrust all the harder. I slanted as far as my arms would hold me and shut my eyes.

  When I reopened them, I noticed that the bands of shadows had been dispersed, and sunlight entrenched the area. Still flying, I pulled myself up, sitting straighter. My gaze unerringly found Michael inclined on the shelter with one booted foot braced on the pillar. I hadn’t paid attention to the motorcycle’s return, and it appeared that the sideshow was over. He’d discarded the leather jacket and looked damn good in a long-sleeved knit shirt with the sleeves rucked up to his elbows. He wore his signature sunglasses, and it was impossible to tell where he was looking.

  “Stop.” Pointing my toes, I gouged the dirt to impede the swing.

 
; Greg’s arms wrapped my waist from behind, enfolding me into him.

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t let go, and his breath skimmed the side of my face.

  “I’m okay, you can let go now.”

  His arms loosened. “What a shame,” he said, and stepped in front of me, obstructing my view of Michael. Greg’s fingers circled the swing’s chains, and he jammed his legs between my knees, locking me in place.

  His sharky eyes fixed on me. “Want to go for a walk in the woods?”

  Is this guy for real? “I’d rather not. Besides, I need a beer.”

  “You have a beer.” He veered his head and signaled with a jerk of his chin to my can on the ground.

  While he was distracted, I dug my toes into the pliable dirt and shifted from his constraining legs and ducked under his arm. The swing plunked Greg in the thighs as I hurried away.

  “Thanks for the push,” I called over my shoulder.

  I sang along with another one of my favorites, The Monkee’s synchronized melody of, “I’m Not Your Steppin’ Stone,” as I gave the shelter a cursory scan.

  To my dismay, Michael had vanished, and I was piqued that he’d left me with that Putman jerk. More seniors and juniors had shelled the place, and by eleven o’clock the bash had escalated. Wooden picnic tables and benches had been relocated to the outskirts of the shelter to make room for dancing.

  “Somebody to Love” heralded from three impressive transistor radios that had been strategically placed around the shelter, surrounding us with tunes. Bodies were jiving over the concrete slab, and Jesse’s fingers unexpectedly wound my wrist, hauling me into the cluster. He was hardly keeping the rhythm, and I laughed when he twirled me like a ballerina.

  During my graceless rotations, I searched for a tall, black-headed boy. Dee, Candy, Gwen, and Tom were dancing to the tempo, their heads bopping in the maze of body parts. Pete Weiler had nuzzled up to Candy, and they looked like two wiggling pieces trying to fit together in the same slot. My eyes darted to find Stevie, and thankfully, he seemed to have tolerated Pete’s advances on Candy.

  Rolled weed passed from hand to hand, and booze sanctified the ground. The tune, “White Rabbit” filtered through the radios as we partied like there was no tomorrow. Singing the first stanza, a couple of kids flaunted pills in their fingertips like prized biscuits, popping them into open mouths and chasing it with beer.

  Winding my body between the masses until I reached Stevie, I questioned, “Are you all right?”

  “Feel great. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Just making sure.”

  Candy and Pete were slow dancing together.

  I tweaked my head in their direction, saying, “You’re okay with that?”

  “We broke up. Whatever…” Yet, his red-rimmed eyes seemed disheartened.

  “Here, want one of these?” His fingers blossomed, revealing a pill—reminiscent of his solution to grow up. I’d deduced a while ago that in Stevie’s crippled mind, it was his method of gifting me acceptance into his hemisphere. Binging on booze and drugs made him feel good, and he presumed I wanted me to feel the same way. He noted my indecision. “It’s not strong. Go ahead. It’ll get rid of the blues.”

  “Do I look blue?”

  “Kind of mopey.”

  “You know what, Stevie, I’m good with just drinking beer. I don’t need that.”

  His expression of disbelief was priceless. “Like, really, who refuses a freebie?” Shrugging, he tousled my head of hair.

  On hearing the dissonant clang of metal on metal, I veered to see Michael playing a game of horseshoes. As in football, he had a refined tilt to his frame, swaying his arm fluently as he aimed for the metal stake.

  Carla had slithered up beside him and grasped his arm. He bent over, and she whispered something in his ear. After a negative shake of his head, she vented with pouty lips before sashaying away.

  Is Michael with Carla?

  I pirouetted into a web of dancing body parts and noticed Jimmy. His eyes were already trained on me and beckoning. We met halfway.

  “Hi, Mary. I didn’t think you’d be here.” He sounded cheerful as he smoothed a hand into his front pocket. With his other hand, he took the privilege of smoothing a strand of my hair.

  “Are you disappointed?” My mouth threatened to turn upward into a flirtatious smirk. I hooked my thumb into my belt loop and thought, Just the guy to make Michael green with envy.

  “Of course not.” He appeared pleased, browsing the length of my body.

  “Have you and Carla split?”

  “I told you once before—” he gave me a slimy smile that didn’t draw me closer to him—

  “Carla and I are friends with benefits. You know what I mean, right?”

  “Um…okay.” Not precisely, but I didn’t desire an eye-opening explanation at the moment. “So she’s with Michael today?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” His sanctimonious lilt was a mere whisper in my ear. “She’s playing him. It’s funny ‘cause Michael isn’t taking the bait.”

  Not funny to me, and I was unseasoned with the whole boy gets girl, girl gets boy, boy cheats on girl, girl cheats on boy, and ‘round and ‘round it goes thing.

  The tune “Color My World” vibrated under the domed shelter. Jimmy’s hands skimmed the sides of my waist, desire written on his cute face. Suddenly someone plucked me away, slinging me into the middle of the herd.

  Michael had me in his embrace before I could utter a word. He bowed low, feathery hair dripping over his eyes, and his whiskered chin connected with my cheek. My arms slung over his shoulders, and he honored me with a sweet smile.

  He combed loose strands of hair from my face and set his hands on my shoulders. Then his thumbs kneaded my collarbone, generating a tide of delicious twinges. Tepid lips lightly brushed my temple, expediting an excitable jolt to my heart.

  He wasn’t talking, and I was undeniably lost for words. His heated palm found the curve of my lower back, touching the exposed skin between my belt and sweater. The sensation nearly knocked me off my feet. The song was coming to an end, and still no words were spoken. He straightened, towering above me and his astral eyes glided over my face.

  What’s he thinking?

  “Hey, Covington, come over here,” someone summoned.

  He left me in a mystifying state, full of conceptions.

  “Here, Mary. Try this.” Jesse offered me a plastic cup. “It’s real smooth.”

  The last person who’d said that to me had been Jimmy, and that had been right before he mashed my boob.

  “What is it?”

  “Just drink. You’ll like it.” He pressed the cup into my hand.

  My nose hair curled as I inhaled the heady fumes. “Smells like whiskey. I don’t know, Jesse. My head is already buzzing.”

  “Hey, babe, it’s party time. Loosen up. Just do it.” His doggy paddling eyes needed a lifeline.

  I positioned the rim to my lips. Being careful not to breathe in the fumes, I tipped the paper cup and downed the contents. I winked away the water spitting out of my eyes and quenched the sizzle with a hefty dose of beer.

  “What was that?” I fanned my fingers over my mouth, sucking in cooling breaths. “You said it was real smooth.”

  “Would you drink if I said—” He hiccupped. “—it tastes like effing kerosene?” He snorted, deploying another high-pitched hiccup. “That was real moonshine, babe.”

  “Never do that to me again.” Using the sleeve of my sweater, I wiped my mouth. In my periphery, I saw Carla targeting me with an evil snarl. I managed a contemptible stink-eye comeback.

  Jesse threw an arm over my shoulders. Unstable on our feet, we wandered to our friends loafing on the sun-dried, weedy grass. Pete Weiler was next to Candy, and she appeared pleased and sweetened like a ripe red strawberry, oohing and flutt
ering her lashes. She was on the make, and Pete didn’t have a chance in hell. He’d be licking her shoes by the end of the day.

  Listening to the revolving indecent jokes and uncontained hilarity I was becoming giddier by the second. When “Light My Fire” came on the radio, the song bled into my veins. Keeping the musical beat with my head.

  I felt liquefied, bendy, and reedy-like. Rocking to the rhythm, my body pantomimed a meditating guru. I didn’t take that pill Stevie offered, did I? As I glimpsed around, everything smeared together like a zany decoupage.

  “You more than like Michael, don’t you?” Dee’s hushed voice was a lariat tying me to Earth.

  Is that a trick question? I’d achieved this marvelous zone, so why was she messing with me? I was high and loving it, and Michael was a conundrum.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. He’s a hard nut to crack. I don’t know what his problem is. Come with me, let’s talk.”

  She pushed off the grassy ground and held her hand out to me. Grabbing hold, she pulled me up. I walked, or rather Dee walked and I strived to put one foot in front of the other, to the perimeter of the woods.

  “So, Michael invited you to his house for dinner?”

  “Er…umm…” Had my head detached from my body somewhere along the path? I concentrated enough to move my lips. “That day I talked to Jesse…missed bus. Needed a ride…and…” My tongue felt too fat for my mouth. “…Michael…and…for some reason…” My vocal chords weren’t quite cooperating with my brain. “He took me…his house.”

  Dee likes Michael. Dee wants Michael. Dee always gets her boy.

  She came to a dead stop, and her dark eyes peered scathingly into mine. “Michael and I were just beginning to hook-up, but now he won’t even come near me. What did you do?”

  “Me? I…I didn’t do…” I slurred. “I don’t know…you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

  “You slept with him, didn’t you?” she accused, putting her hands on her hips. “Now you’re holding that over his head. Are you pregnant?”