His face screws up. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve filed a hardship request. It’s like a last resort hail Mary thing for poor people who can’t pay their bills. It cuts back the payments and give us more time. I’m helping her pay on it. I’m saving up. I’m eighteen, you can’t stop me.”
He shakes his head and laughs a little.
“Cuts back payment how much? What figure are you working off of?”
“It’s like about…four thousand?” My shoulders shrink up.
“Four thousand. Uh, huh,” he says. “Does that include the second mortgage she took out, too? The property taxes she hasn’t paid? Her credit card debt? Four thousand dollars wouldn’t put a dent into what she owes. Not even a tiny nick of a dent.”
I think about that bin in our kitchen. The one with the papers and bills and god knows what else pouring out of it. The Bin of Question Marks and Misery that I’ve shoved out of my mind all summer because I can only deal with one problem at a time, which is the Envelope of Doom. I’m gripped with nausea thinking of the two words he just said: Second Mortgage. I don’t even know what that means but it doesn’t sound good. And then property taxes? I’m going to be sick.
“She’s decided to declare bankruptcy and get rid of the house,” he says.
“What?” I say. “No, no. How would you know? She would never talk to you about her plans!”
“She called Tom today to have him help her through the Chapter 7 process which means bankruptcy,” he says. “She asked him to break the news to us because she knows we’re all close.”
“You mean Lindsey’s dad?” I say, my voice cracking.
He nods. “He’s filing the papers. Chapter 7. Bankruptcy.”
“But...,” I say, the tears starting to spring up. “Can loan her some money? You have so much, you’re dripping in money. I’ll pay it back, I swear. I’ll pay back all of it.”
“J-bear, honey,” he says, walking towards me.
“No!” I say, which makes him back up. “I mean it’s not fair for me to be leeching off her when we have all this stupid college money saved up that I could be using to help her!”
His jaw clenches.
“First off, it’s not your money, it’s mine and Melody’s that has been saved for a specific purpose. And secondly, minor children do not leech, Julianne. They are cared for lovingly and willingly by their parents. Which I have done your whole life. I provide more than enough child support and alimony for your mother and you to have lived comfortably. Whatever financial hole she’s dug herself into, the solution does not involve other people’s hard-earned cash. It does not involve your education and future”
“Hard earned money? Please! The only reason you’ve got so much is because of Miss Money Bags here! And the only reason she’s got it is because her dead relatives left it to her! Where is my mother going to live? She doesn’t have a job, yet!”
“She’s moving to Florida to live with your Grandma Judy.”
My blood pools into my feet. I grab onto the banister to the stairs because I have no blood left and I’m afraid I might fall. I can’t believe my mother would do all this, make all these huge, life-changing plans without me. This is why she’s been avoiding me all summer. She’s known all along what she was going to do and didn’t want me talking her out of it.
My dad and Melody walk closer, try to put their arms around me. I shirk them off.
I storm out outside, snatch up my bike from against the tree and pedal away. When I get to the bird sanctuary, I sit down on the little pier and look out over the water. It’s too cloudy to see the tips of the roller coasters so I close my eyes and listen to the soft lapping of the waves. The wind blows and the sun goes down and it starts getting chilly enough that I wish I’d brought a hoodie. When I’ve worked up the courage, and stayed out so long that they will soon come looking for me, I pull out my phone. I ignore the messages from Brandon and dial Lindsey. I tell her everything that just happened. She’s been waiting for my call. She knew about my mom coming to see her dad but didn’t know how to break it to me.
“I’m so, so sorry sweetie,” she says in between my sobbing and ranting.
There’s nothing Lindsey can do except listen at this point, I guess.
Then it hits me that I won’t be living in Lakewood anymore. This is real, real, real. This is happening. I won’t be seeing Lindsey and going to my old school. Now that my mom is moving to Florida and I have no home, that means I have to live here. I have to spend my senior year…
Oh, god.
“Linz, do you think that your dad might…that your parents might…let me…,”
“I already asked,” she says, quietly. “I’m sorry, Jules. They said it wasn’t a good idea. They think you should live with your dad.”
“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking, “Okay.”
“They said I could come visit, though. And that you could come stay the week between Christmas and New Years?”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, breaking into a fresh batch of sobs. “Thanks for asking, though.”
“Sure,” she says. “Oh, Jules. Please. It’ll be okay. You can come home all the time. I mean until the ferry stops. Oh, god, I just want to reach through the phone and hug you, put you in my pocket—,”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, wiping my nose and cutting her off because I seriously can’t take it. “You’re the best, Linz. Gonna go, now, bye.”
“Jules, wait—,” but I pretend not to hear.
I turn my phone off and hug myself tight against the chill; rest my chin on my knees. I wipe and sniff and wipe and sniff while the cuticle moon grow brighter against the indigo sky. I think: one more minute. Just one more minute and I’ll go back. Tears run hot down my wind-cooled cheeks as I worry about what will happen next for me. And about what will happen to my mom.
26.
My throat is sore from crying and I’m exhausted. Lindsey’s dad called early this morning to say that he’s meeting with my mom this morning to finalize her petition for bankruptcy. I head to work using my own car this time, thirty bucks one way on the ferry, but I don’t even care. I’ve got thirteen hundred bucks saved and not a thing to spend it on now but myself.
I arrive early because I don’t want to bump into Brandon out in Frontiertown square. The sky is cloudy and with any luck, it will rain buckets and I won’t have to sit outside at the gem fountain in plain sight of him. Eight hours of looking over at Brandon looking over at me looking over at him? No thank you.
The half hour before the park opens is one of my favorite times of the work day so I try to cheer up and enjoy it. The roller coasters and rides aren’t running yet so things are quiet and peaceful. Frontiertown Square is deserted and if I mentally block out the trash cans and signs pointing to the restrooms, I can sort of pretend that I’m living in pioneer days. Then when I step in through the back entrance of the gem shop, flip on the light, and turn on the new age music we play in here, I can imagine I’ve been transported back in time even further, back to a time before people existed, when the earth was still being formed.
Even though, obviously, I have a deep-seated hatred for dust-catcher souvenirs, and should have an inherent aversion to working in this shop, this particular flavor of retail wastefulness doesn’t bother me, not in the way that my mom’s dolls bother me. I actually like the stuff that I sell. Being around the crack-apart geodes, agate slices, rocks, crystals, and even the poor bugs trapped in amber soothes me. It makes me feel like I’m paying deference to the earth somehow. Like that by working here, I’m helping the world to appreciate the geological wonders of the universe.
Flipping through a stack of CD’s, I decide on Phosphorescent’s Muchacho instead of the new age stuff. No pan flutes and creek water but there is still something very Zen about it. After my big decision to remove myself from the road-to-nowhere “relationship” with Brandon and then that terrible news about my mom, I could use some Zen.
The tables of books about Northwest Ohio’s
glacial grooves and rock collecting are a mess so I busy myself straightening them while relaxing and breathing to the music. While I’m trying to reach my early morning happy place, a knock on the front door scares the crap out of me. Brandon is standing on the cabin porch, looking at me through the window. I knew I’d have to deal with him sometime today but why does it have to be right now? I’m spent. I haven’t slept a single wink all night. Whatever. Time to get this over with.
I trudge over, unlock the door, and actively disregard the quickening of my heartbeat.
“Good morning,” I say, nonchalantly.
“Hi,” he says.
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping past him a bit and onto the wooden porch.
I swing the door all the way open, kick the doorstop into place with my foot and walk back inside. I flip the sign in the adjacent window to OPEN and then frantically search for something to do.
“Can we talk?” he says from behind me.
The floorboards of the cabin creak and settle under his weight.
“Sure,” I say, pretending to be busy.
I stand in front of the crates and bins of polished rocks that are organized by color. Little kids like to mix them up, take a handful and dump them into another color so I pluck out the ones that don’t belong and drop them into their proper places.
Brandon stands close, right at my side, watching me sort rocks. He runs his hand down into a bin of shiny, white moonstones. He scoops them up and lets them slip through his fingers. Everyone who gets near these displays can’t resist doing this. I’ve run my fingers into these barrels and bins a dozen times since I started here. It’s cooling to the hands and something about it feels so wonderful, like you’re playing with bowlfuls of brightly colored candy.
“So, you’re feeling okay?” he says, finally.
“Good as new.”
“Did you get my texts? My voicemails?”
“No, I haven’t had time to check them.”
“You haven’t had time,” he says, sighing, looking up at the ceiling and wiping his hand over his chin in frustration.
“Nope. Been real, real busy,” I say, sorting my rocks.
I glance over at the jewelry displays. The lapiz bracelets hang there like sparkling mockeries. It burns my blood all over again thinking of him clasping one to my wrist and then jumping into the pool with Adriana. God, I wish he would just leave already. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without having to play romantic ping-pong with a guy who clearly likes to have his cake and eat it, too.
“Julianne,” he says, dropping his head, trying to get me to look at him.
My hands are getting busier; my sorting is starting to border on maniacal so I stop and look up at him.
“You know, we really don’t have to do this,” I say.
“Do what?” he says, standing up straighter, his brow furrowing, “Talk?”
“This,” I say, pointing quickly between the two of us. “This pretending like we’re figuring something out. There’s nothing to figure out. It’s cool, we can still be friends.”
“Friends?” he says, letting out a quiet laugh.
I sigh and go back to my rocks.
“Well, not the kind of friends that you’re used to, I’m sure,” I say, “More the actual, real kind. No perks.”
Now, he actually does laugh. “You think that’s what I want from you? Friends-with-benefits?”
“Well…yeah,” I say, bugging my eyes out like he’s the stupidest person ever to speak a word.
This conversation is taking way longer than it should.
“Brandon, go to your kiosk,” I say, dismissing him. I brush my hands against my shorts and walk towards the back of the store, talking over my shoulder. “It might be uncomfortable between us for a few days because we work so close to one another. But it’ll pass. We’ll be buddies again in no time.”
I can hear him walking toward the front, so I sigh with relief because goodbye, Brandon Wright, it was nice knowing you. I focus my attention on the wall of beads, which is another delicious thing about working here. Thousands of strands of colored beads hang from the back wall, covering every inch of it and making this shining curtain of jewels that feels so nice when you brush your hands through it. Tiger’s eye, jade, coral, Polynesian tribal woods. There are several oddballs thrown on the wrong hooks so I reach up and start putting them back into place.
The sound of the door swinging shut makes me whip around. He’s still in here, looking at me from across the store. He switches the sign in the window back to CLOSED and walks toward me, stopping two inches in front of me.
Looking up into his hazel eyes, my knees start to get wobbly so I shore them up and pray that I don’t crumple and slide down the wall, taking a hundred exploding beads with me. Also, I shore up any ideas that I might have about caving. I will not play appetizer to Adriana’s main dish.
“I need to open in a minute,” I say, putting a hand on my hip. “People will be here soon so I don’t have time for this.” As though there are a throng of people beating on the door outside, a whole crowd just dying to get in and purchase some rocks.
“We’re in the back of the park,” he says, staring down at me. “Even the most enthusiastic sprinter will take ten minutes to get here. We have plenty of time.”
“Time for what?” I say, trying to muster some irritation.
His eyes soften.
“I don’t want to be friends, Julianne,” he says.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I say, trying to edge away. “I’m not into that type of—,”
“—I won’t see her anymore,” he says, planting his hand on the wall behind me, boxing me in. “Not that I was seeing her, because I wasn’t. After our bike ride, I stopped it with her. That pool thing…that was…I don’t know what that was. It was just a dumb moment in a pool.”
I pause and consider what he’s saying; I start to weaken a little and he can read it on my face so he keeps at it, making a stronger case for himself.
“I told Hugo that she can’t hang out in our room anymore, that my girlfriend doesn’t like it. Rigmora’s welcome, because he’s dating her or whatever, but Adriana can no longer be part of the package. He totally gets it, Julianne, so it’s not going to be a problem anymore, I swear.”
“Girlfriend?” I say. Because that is the last word I heard.
He nods and stares into my eyes, then glances away. “Well, I mean obviously you have a say in the matter.”
A smile starts working its way out of me. I try to hold it back but my facial muscles betray me. One, two, three…egh, there it goes, utter bliss bursting onto my face. I blush like crazy.
“So, I can I call you that, then?” he says, grinning, reaching up with his free hand to stroke my hair. His eyes move down to my lips, then up to my eyes again.
“Fine,” I say, looking to the side, trying to rein in the overwhelming joy.
I look down and wonder what I’m supposed to do with my hands. Now that I have what I want, I don’t know what to do with it. He’s so close. And while a kiss is definitely coming within the next few seconds, it’s not quite here yet so I just let my arms hang limply at my sides for the time-being, my fingers playing with the strands of beads behind me. It’s like I’m at Taylor Anderson’s fourteenth birthday party playing spin the bottle. Now that Brandon Wright’s bottle has landed on me, I’m happy and terrified all at once.
He takes his hand from the wall, cups my cheek and kisses me, sliding his tongue softly over mine. Instantly, I am Brandon Wright putty. His hand is in my hair and the other moves over my shoulder, down my arm, finding my hip, my—
—I break our kiss, take hold of his wrist and cringe.
“Don’t,” he whispers, breathing hard. He tugs me back into him, and kisses me deeper. He slides his hand up under the hem of my polo, his fingertips finding my pump then the infusion site on my stomach. He rubs the little patch with the back of his finger while he kisses me. My heart is pounding and I can’t relax. I feel
like…like…
“Whatever you’re thinking,” he whispers, his lips against mine, “Stop thinking it. Just kiss me back.”
And I do. I stop thinking and kiss him back. Everything, my pump, my mom, my house, all of the messed up crap in my life just swirls off into the background until the only thing left is this perfect, perfect kiss. I breathe and focus on his lips. His hand moves over me, sliding warm along my skin, over my stomach, around the small of my back. His other hand works deeper into my hair, his fingers tangling up. The curtain of beads whispers and hums behind me and the music drifts in; the music that I put on when I first came in. I’ve forgotten to hear it until now. “Song for Zula” plays and I want to kiss this boy forever.
“I’m so glad this is settled,” he whispers, his lips sliding along my jaw, down my neck, his hand moving.
“Me, too.” I say, breathing to the music and pressing my back against the wall.
I pull him closer, not caring that the beads are spilling down around us like rain.
27.
Brandon walks me to my car after work. All the way across the park and through the employee lot we make-out like shameless idiots. At my car, I reach up and do what I’ve wanted to do all summer. I rub my hands all over his short blonde hair, rub his head hard like a genie’s lamp. He breaks into a laugh and then grabs my hands up, starts kissing my palms, the insides of my wrists.
“I just thought of something great about you living with your dad,” he says.
“What?” I say, grinning and flinching because the wrist-kissing tickles. “That I’m a shoe-in for island prom queen?”
“No,” he says, his words humming over my skin. “You’ll be an hour closer to me. Even with the ferry, Middle Bass is a lot closer to Toledo than Lakewood. We can do this every weekend.”
“Oh, yeahhh,” I say, and we kiss and kiss and kiss.
I take the ferry back to the island and the whole way, I just look out at the water and smile like a drunk person. My mother and her financial catastrophe have temporarily been pushed to the far reaches of my mind allowing me to float inside a Brandon Wright Bubble of Ecstasy.
Doll Hearts Page 24