by Ina Zajac
“No.”
“Okay then, let’s do this. Time we had the talk.” He stood back and motioned toward the foot of his bed, like he wanted her to sit down. She stood her ground, not wanting to sit where Kaytlyn had just been.
He moved in close again, so they were facing each other again. “So Via, what’s up?”
“What?”
“With us. I want to know what’s up.”
Clueless, she wanted to touch his face. If only he’d just shut up and kiss her. She attempted a smile.
He shook his head at her, but his expression was playful. “I don’t think I’ve ever been the one to bring this up before,” he said. “It’s such a girl thing.”
She didn’t want to think about the other girls.
“You make me act like such a pussy,” he said.
Her stress smile relaxed into a real one. “Did you really just say that word to me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not exactly romantic. I’ve never really had to be.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Neither is Dan. He’s super practical.”
He brought his head back and twisted up his face. “Please don’t ever say his name. You know that bums me out.”
“Sorry,” she said. It was such a stupid thing to say. Maybe he wasn’t going to kiss her at all now.
“You said you didn’t love him.”
“And I meant it. But…”
“But?” He kept his eyes trained on hers. She felt so out there. Nowhere to hide.
“But, I don’t want to hurt him.”
“That’s not a good reason to marry someone.”
She found it hard to hold eye contact with him anymore, so she nuzzled in close to him. He was warm and wonderful. He made her forget her worries. The death day countdown. She wanted to be happy. While part of her was sure she didn’t deserve him, the other part—the part that wanted and trusted him—was stronger and more insistent.
“I’m just scared,” she confessed.
He sighed against her ear. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight, but you’ll have to cut him loose,” he said. “I can’t get attached if you’re not in this with me.”
Of course, he was right. “I’m in,” she said. He relaxed against her. Had she really just said that? She felt a wave of terror pass over her, but then it was gone. He was still there, holding her. “Can we be done with the talk now?” She felt saturated in the potential of the moment; she didn’t want to waste it talking.
“One more thing,” he said. “Do you think about that day? What I told you?”
They had said so many things that day, but she knew exactly what he was asking her.
“To remember how we felt that day.”
“Yep, that’s all we have to do,” he said. “And we’ll be good.”
She wanted to believe him. “Forever is now?” she asked, her cheek still against his chest. She was hopeful, but still found it hard to pull away and look at him.
“Exactly, Isoldey. Exactly.”
She lifted her face up toward his to find his lips already waiting for hers. Their conversation had been so thoughtful that she was surprised by the intensity of their kiss. He caught her off guard when he walked her back a few steps and leaned her up against the door. Still kissing her, he reached around her and she heard the lock click. Then he pulled her over to the tablet on his desk.
“Marley?” he asked, breathless. She nodded, and they held off kissing just long enough for him to hit play. He pulled her back to his bed.
“I’ll need some help with my jeans,” he said, holding up his bandaged hand for her inspection.
Oh, that’s right, she realized. She had been so focused on Kaytlyn and the big talk that she had forgotten about his injured hand. Now she was even more impressed with his smooth door-locking move. “Does it hurt?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we go have a doctor check it out?”
“I don’t do hospitals, they make too many mistakes,” he said. “ And, I’ve been waiting—hoping—for this all day.”
“You’ve been thinking about me all day?” She felt blindsided with happiness. “When you were onstage, and all those girls were screaming for you?”
“Enough talk. You’re killing me here,” he said. “Undress me, woman.”
Carefully, she eased his t-shirt off over his head and worked her hands down to his belt.
He pulled away. “Stop. Wait.”
She stepped back and watched that familiar smile curl up on his face. She was hooked on that smile. “You’re pretty,” he said.
She felt pretty, more than pretty. “You going to say that every time?”
“It’s lucky, and you do look good in red.” He brought his good hand up between her hood and her hair. “You can leave your riding hood on.”
She had him naked before the second verse of “Is This Love” was over. The riding hood stayed on well into “Three Little Birds.”
CHAPTER 22
VIA
VIA CAME DOWNSTAIRS and heard Nick and Matt in the kitchen. Matt’s Black Flag t-shirt was long enough that she didn’t feel overexposed. Her hair was a rat’s nest. She wanted a cup of coffee, but they sounded like they might be fighting, so she decided to hang back and listen.
“You’re an idiot,” she heard Nick say. “Sooner or later you’re going to need real medical attention. Someday you’ll need to actually enter a real hospital.”
“Like hell.”
“You can’t google your way out of every illness.”
“Dude, look, it’s fine. It’s not that swollen anymore,” Matt pointed out. “I’ll just ice it and rest it a few days.”
“Just get your shit straight before you throw a punch,” Nick instructed. “Wrist straight. Strike at ninety degrees.”
“Okay, okay. I wasn’t thinking.”
“If Obliviot is important to you, you’ll take care of your hands.”
“I’m sorry, K?”
“Straight up apology so soon? No arguing?” Nick asked. “You’re damn chipper this morning. Short Skirt must have been decent in the sexual healing department.”
“Whatever, something like that,” she heard Matt reply.
“SHFT soundtrack?”
“Johnny Cash, some blues,” he said. “We had KEXP on this morning, Positive Vibrations—perfect since I need to get her into reggae. All she knows is Marley.”
She was only slightly offended at the condescension she detected in his voice because it was true.
“No dubstep?”
“Not yet. Maybe next time. She picked.”
“You let her pick?”
“Just cause Johnny Cash was a good call,” Matt said. “I would have vetoed Taylor Swift or some shit like that.”
“Shut up, you like her,” Nick said. “You wouldn’t have missed SHFT because of lame music.”
She wondered what a “shift” was and why missing it was bad.
“It’s not like that. I’m no chump.”
“Not yet.”
“You cool with her, or not?” She hadn’t heard Matt sound so offended before. His voice was strained. “You said you were, and now you’re giving me shit?”
“Nah, she’s alright,” Nick said. “Just watch yourself. Just be careful with the engaged chick. When is she marrying that guy?”
“I’m thinking the day after never.”
Her heart froze. She had forgotten all about Dan. Again.
Matt grumbled, “So, just drop it—dumbass.”
She was surprised to hear Nick laugh, and then Matt joining in. Their heated argument seemed to have vanished without a trace. As if dumbass were a magic word.
“And how’d you do, Grohlly?” Matt was asking the questions now. “You hook up with the Girl Scout or her friend?” It was silent for a moment, and then she heard Matt cracking up. “You joined that situation Josh told me about? In G-Dane’s bed?”
“Of course not, sick bastard,” Nick said. “We moved it over to my room.”
“That v
ideo will come back to haunt your ass.”
“It’s not like I’m running for office.”
She smoothed her hair down as best she could and stepped into the kitchen. She knew she should announce herself somehow, but wasn’t sure how. Matt was leaning against the stove on the far end of the kitchen and Nick was sitting at the island. Neither had noticed her.
“But wait, there’s more,” Nick said like a TV commercial announcer. “That slutty witch blew me on that beer run.”
“Good morning,” she said. They both looked over, surprised. Matt smiled, but Nick did not. She tried not to laugh, and assumed his witchy chick had taken off her hag wig and hat first.
“The witch with warts all over her chin?” she asked. “They looked so realistic. Not sure if they were part of the costume.”
Nick looked horrified, like he couldn’t believe she had gone there. He bowed his head and shook it a few times. His cheeks developed red splotches.
Matt grinned as though he approved of her insightful observation. “Should we offer up a healing spell for your junk?”
She couldn’t help thinking of church. She’d never been involved in a please-don’t-let-him-have-genital-warts prayer circle.
“Shut your face,” Nick said. “But, that reminds me, it’s your turn to refill the SHFT dispenser,” he told Matt with an exaggerated wink. “All we’ve got left are the giveaways, so buy some today—unless you want to get your glow on.” She was lost. Nick gave an awkward sort of wave. “I’m off to see G-Dane.” She was relieved he didn’t look too annoyed with her. She wanted him to like her. “Later, tater,” he whispered as he passed.
“Tot,” she told him. It was stupid, but she was realizing they were all stupid, so it was cool.
She looked back over to Matt. He was staring back at her with a hungry Wile E. Coyote expression on his face. She waited until she heard the front door close, and then asked, “He’s off to see his grandmother again?”
“He goes twice a week. She’s super sweet and he’s a good boy.”
“Not from what I overheard. What’s the shift machine?”
“You said you were on the pill, right?”
Embarrassed, she nodded, though she would have to be better about taking them. Now that she was actually having sex.
“So, then, no worries.”
“Well, what does missing a ‘shift’ mean?”
“Damn, woman, how long were you standing there?”
She could tell he wanted her to come to him, but she continued to smile from the doorway waiting for an answer.
“Not a SHIFT, some S-H-F-T,” he said. “It’s Super Happy Fuck Time. You ready for some more?”
He put his arms out toward her, but she didn’t go over because he had a weird look on his face, like he wanted to tickle her.
“Come to me.” His tone was playful. “Come to me,” he repeated. This time he looked serious. She loved the way he looked at her. She felt like someone new, and special. He made it seem like January wasn’t too far away, after all.
He started walking toward her like they were playing tag and he was it. She shrieked and ran back into the living room with him right behind her. She ran up the stairs laughing and screaming as she felt him trying to pinch the backs of her ankles. She ran for his bed. If she could outrun him, it seemed the obvious choice for home base.
CHAPTER 23
VIA
“VIA, SWEETIE,” Nick called down from behind his drum set. “Will you please grab me a beer? The fridge is next to the washer and dryer.”
She hadn’t thought to hesitate until she was halfway across the basement and heard Matt scold him.
“What was that?”
“What? I can’t ask your girl to fetch me a beer?” Nick asked. “Or I can’t call her sweetie?”
She opened the refrigerator and leaned in. “You want light beer, right, Nick?”
“Please, no chick beer!” he yelled over. Of course, she had already grabbed him a bottle of the darker ale she knew the guys liked.
She turned to see that Josh had put his guitar against its rack and jumped down from the stage. He was headed toward the coffee table, eyes cast on the last line of cocaine. “Can I have a beer too, hon?” he asked before snorting up the last of the party favors.
She brought Nick his beer and turned to Josh. “You didn’t say the magic word.” Matt and Nick both stuck out their tongues at him. She didn’t mention the real reason; he was bogarting the last line.
Nick hadn’t done any. He rarely did, said it messed with his timing. She was learning that, to Nick, timing was everything. Neither booze nor weed seemed to bother him, a little here, a lot there. He took a swig of his beer and put it down on the wooden rail behind him before he taunted Josh with a rimshot. “Josh, gettin’ schooled by the Sunday school teacher.”
They had been practicing The Offspring for an hour, “Gotta Get Away” over and over. She thought it sounded good, but the guys seemed to hear things, problems, that her ears didn’t recognize.
“And, turn down your amp,” Nick was telling Josh. “You sound like shit.”
There seemed to be different levels of sounding bad. Sounding like shit wasn’t all that bad. Sounding like ass was worse, and sounding terrible was worst of all. The guys also had an entire language devoted to the amps and sound mixing. They were forever adjusting dials, knobs, and sliders. Matt seemed to love the technical stuff. Nick said he was a wizard on a soundboard and a real wolf tone tamer, but she didn’t dare to ask what they were talking about for fear they would launch into a twenty-minute explanation. There was this thing called a Neve board they talked about, like the ultimate sound toy.
They also had a fog machine, a bubble machine, and a trunk full of crazy hats. She had only been to three shows so far, but at the last one, at Nectar in Fremont, they had tossed down a My Little Ponies piñata and let the crowd tear it apart. Inside were goodies from Archie McPhee’s novelty store—candy, wax lips, x-ray glasses, glow sticks, and an array of freaky-colored condoms.
“Let’s do some Radiohead now,” Matt said. “‘The National Anthem,’ just the beginning. I want her to hear the sick bassline.”
Josh furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Dude, we don’t have horns or the synthesizer or anything.” He adjusted his green beanie back against his forehead and sniffed hard. “That would sound rough as hell.”
Nick scowled. “Let’s do ‘Suck You Dry’ again,” he insisted. “Need to get Mudhoney back into the set, and then maybe some Melvins.”
“No, first Radiohead, then Mudhoney, then Beck,” Matt said, his eyes locked on hers. His eyes were soft, like he was in love.
“No, man,” Nick said. “You know I love that song, but it’s not even nineties. Came out in 2000.”
“Just bass and drums,” Matt persisted. “Come on.”
"We've got to run through shit for the show,” Nick shot back.
“All she knows is ‘Creep,’” Matt said, soft but urgent. “It hurts deep inside; that's the only Radiohead she knows.”
Nick gasped and looked down at her like she had smothered a puppy. “Damn.” He brought his sticks over his heart. “Okay, maybe we should run through ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ too.”
Matt leaned over, adjusted his amp, and brought his hand up the neck of bass; then he gave her a sweet but serious look. “Close your eyes and listen,” he told her. His eyes seemed focused on her lips.
She sank back against the couch and tried to restrain her schoolgirl smile. She closed her eyes as he unleashed a growlish vibration through the speakers. After a couple of false starts, she heard him carve out a heavy bassline, intense and almost wet against her ears. Nick joined in. It felt so good to kick back and take it all in. The groove they were offering was sultry, almost hypnotic. But then Nick just stopped. She opened her eyes to see his face contorted and tense. Something wasn’t right.
“Hold up,” he yelled down to Matt, who stopped and waited without looking up. Just the way he
had the first time he’d kissed her, when she had been on his lap. She had asked him to stop and he had obeyed. He had just paused and waited. The memory made her grateful.
They had only known each other two months. How was that possible? He meant so much to her now.
Nick was fiddling with the hi-hat, the set of twin cymbals on the stand to his left. One was inverted an inch or so above the other and he fussed with it a lot. While he often hit it with his drumsticks like the other cymbals, the hi-hat also had a foot pedal. She watched him work it with his left foot until he seemed satisfied. Whitney called him a syncopation stud. Whit actually talked about Nick a lot. Via tried not to watch him too much because Matt could be sensitive about all the attention tossed Nick’s way. Still, it was hard not to be impressed. When Nick got going—each limb with a mind of its own—he frenzied her into a trance.
She returned her attention to her Tristan. His hands remained over the strings of his old brown bass. Envy seemed to be reserved for shows. She hadn’t realized there were so many ways to play the bass. On some songs he used a pick, always a Fender Heavy, and on others he just used his fingers. Sometimes he changed the position of his hand and used his thumb to pop the strings. He called that slap bass. He also had a foot pedal he used sometimes, though she had no idea why. She found herself confused by all of the terms he used to describe the sound he was going for: sludgy, grimy, juicy, crunchy. All she knew is that he looked so happy when he was playing, so strong and above it all. Flow, he called it. While he asked her a million questions, trying to unearth every little detail about her, she found all she had to do was watch him play to learn everything she needed to know.
Matt was staring at her. It felt like there was nobody else in the room, in the world. Sometimes when he looked at her, she knew he must have her figured out. He was capable of destroying her, and she hated it. But then, she would tell herself to mellow out. Maybe it was becoming real for him too. She wanted that to be true. But, then what would they do? Her mind hyperventilated with possibilities that she had never considered before.
She leaned back on the couch, and closed her eyes. Matt started playing again and she couldn’t believe how intense they sounded. Nick’s energy was crisp, and encircled her. Matt vibrated and entranced every cell in her body.