Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story)

by Lisa Loomis

  “He doesn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

  “Who says I’m hurt?”

  “Okay, frustrated, mad, whatever,” he said. “Morgan, I know you well enough to read you a little. Mathew is Mathew.”

  The lump had spread into my chest and it felt like a weight was pushing down on me.

  “Do you know how many times I have said that to myself?” I said, irritated.

  Bobby didn’t have to answer that. I knew he could imagine.

  “He invited me to this beach party, so I thought it was to be with him. Wrong again it looks like. Every time I think he won’t work the chick angle right in front of me, he does.”

  A wave rolled in swirling up my leg, splitting and falling back.

  “He’s a party guy. He’s friendly, outgoing. It doesn’t mean he’s working the chick angle,” Bobby tried to defend him.

  The breeze was blowing my hair into my face and I reached to pull it back, wrapping it around itself, and tucking it into a makeshift bun.

  “I caught him kissing her at the last party he took me to. You know what he said when I called him on it, 'I don’t even know her'. What kind of lame ass answer is that?”

  Bobby laughed and I recalled the time we’d laughed together about Mathew’s lame pick-up lines on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but you sounded just like him.”

  “Okay, and here’s the lamest part. He thinks if he doesn’t know her, it makes it all right.”

  “Let’s sit,” he said, stopping by the water.

  We sat down, facing the ocean, and I handed him one of the beers. His olive skin was tan I noticed. I still found him handsome and I wondered why I hadn’t fallen for a normal boy like him.

  “We have a weird relationship,” I said.

  We watched the waves crash on the sand, the foam roll up the beach, and then retreat. There were three young girls playing in the waves, chasing them in and out, laughing with delight. I put my chin on my knees.

  “What do you know about us, Bobby?”

  “I’m not sure what I know.”

  “Bullshit,” I said.

  Bobby had his hands draped lazily around his knees and he pulled back slightly.

  “Some. Mathew isn’t a big talker. I know the two of you have been together.”

  “Together?” I questioned. “Do you know we’ve been lovers?”

  “Yeah, I figured that from things he's said.”

  I could tell he didn’t want to say too much, always protecting Mathew.

  “Lovers for years,” I added, perturbed.

  Bobby didn’t say anything. We sat watching the ocean.

  “I feel like that,” I said, pointing to the girls.

  Bobby watched the girls for a few minutes.

  “Like what?” he asked, confused.

  “Up and back. One minute I’m in, the next I’m out. Just like the ocean, he’s unpredictable. It fucking drives me crazy. I don’t even live here, Bobby. How hard can it be to be nice for a short time? If he simply wants to be friends, why does he keep inviting me, taking me to his bed, and then playing right in front of me like this?”

  He didn’t answer me, he didn’t know how to. I told him about Anna and Sean at the last party, disclosing my retaliatory behavior. The emotions were churning in me, a mixture of hurt, fury, and frustration with myself. I clasped and un-clasped my hands as I spoke. I told him how pissed Mathew was about Sean, never blaming himself for any of it. He listened. We finished our beer.

  “Let’s head back,” I suggested, standing up.

  We walked back down the beach and resumed our spot on our towels. Bobby dug in the cooler and got two more cold beers.

  “Bobby, you don’t have to hang if you don’t want to, go mingle.”

  “I really don’t know that many people, I’m good.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glad he was staying.

  He gave me a reassuring pat on my back, his hand was warm. I don’t think Mathew was even aware we had gone. I watched him. He was in his element: the leader of the band, the guy the girls wanted, the party boy. The part of him I loved wasn’t in this mix. Somewhere in there I didn’t fit, didn’t want to fit. I saw Anna put her arm around him and press her chest into his side. He flipped his hair back, something he’d been doing since I met him, and did regularly when he was on stage. The drunker they got, the more they flirted with each other. I was tired of watching.

  “Bobby, I know this is asking a lot, but can you take me home? I’m feeling a bit tortured.”

  I knew it was a big inconvenience. The pressure in my chest had become a dull ache and a part of me wanted to shock him, that I would leave, would run.

  “If you can’t, I can probably find someone else,” I said.

  “I can take you. Are you sure that’s what you want?” Bobby asked.

  “Absolutely sure. I don’t want to wait for the second act.”

  He searched my eyes and then rolled his head to the side like he wasn’t sure that’s what I should do.

  “Go tell Mathew I’m taking you home,” he said.

  “No, let’s just go,” I pleaded.

  The movement of my head made my bun come apart and my hair fell down around my shoulders.

  “No. Go, tell him you’re leaving.”

  “Shit, Bobby, why? It seems pretty clear it doesn’t matter,” I said, irritated he was asking me to do this.

  “Go, tell him,” he said adamantly.

  I walked reluctantly across the stretch of beach to where he stood talking with Anna and several other people. As I walked up, he looked into my eyes.

  “Morgan, do you know everyone here?” he offered as if I’d been included all along. “This is Anna, Susan, and Mary.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said curtly before I turned back to look at him.

  “Mathew, I’m heading out,” I said, and I saw Anna smile.

  He looked surprised and glanced around in search of another person.

  “With who?”

  He spread his legs digging his feet into the sand, and crossed his arms in front of him, a sort of defiant stance. I looked down at his fingers that were wrapped around a beer.

  “Bobby’s taking me home.”

  “Really?!”

  This seemed to surprise him even more.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said and turned without waiting for a response.

  I headed back toward Bobby locking my eyes on him not wanting to look back. I’d wanted to slap the smile from Anna’s face. She hadn’t won; I just wasn’t willing to play the game. Bobby had already gathered our towels and was heading for the path. I followed him. Mathew caught up with me halfway up the hill.

  “What are you doing, Morgan?”

  “Bobby’s taking me back over the hill.”

  I said it like it was perfectly normal, like why would you ask?

  “Why?” he asked, baffled.

  “Mathew,” I said, stopping abruptly and facing him. “I told you before, don’t make me watch. Go have Anna, have anyone you want, don’t expect me to like it.”

  “Morgan, it’s not like we’re a couple.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. I saw the handsome face, and I wanted to lash out at him. What he said felt like a knife through my heart. I clenched my fists together, trying to control my emotions. Right that moment I hated myself for ever believing there was a remote possibility of an us.

  “You know, you’re absolutely right, so it shouldn’t faze you if I leave,” I said, sounding much calmer than I felt.

  He grabbed my arm and squeezed.

  “Let go of me,” I said almost in a growl.

  He loosened his grasp.

  “Since our outings to the beach usually end with a good fuck maybe Bobby can oblige today,” I said caustically.

  “Morgan, don’t screw with me,” he said.

  He clenched his jaw. I knew he was angry.

  “Oh, no, Mathew,” I said mockingly. “And why suga
rcoat it, don’t you mean fuck with you? I don’t want to fuck or screw with you. I don’t need to.”

  I yanked my arm out of his grasp and headed up the hill. He didn’t follow. When I got to the top of the hill, I saw Bobby standing by his car. He got in slowly as he watched me walk toward him. I think he thought Mathew would follow me and protest. He had given Mathew an opportunity to make it right, insisting I tell him I was leaving. The drive back over Highway 17 seemed to take forever. I was angry, and my heart hurt, like a hand had taken hold of it and was squeezing tighter and tighter. I replayed his words in my mind. There were so many things he could have said to stop me, instead he’d chosen words he knew would hurt me. Bobby didn’t talk until we were almost to Gayle’s. I couldn’t expect him to know what to say.

  “Morgan,” he finally started.

  His tone was sweet and I could feel the tears push from behind my eyes. I inhaled deeply to stifle them.

  “Please don’t, Bobby. Don’t make excuses for him. There aren’t any. If I overreacted, so be it. He just keeps piling it on.”

  I didn’t want Bobby to feel guilty over actions that had nothing to do with him. I didn’t want him to feel bad for my feelings.

  “I said something really mean to him, about you, out of anger.”

  “About me?” he asked, taken aback.

  I looked out my window at the landscape passing by so I didn’t have to look at him.

  “Yeah, I feel embarrassed to even tell you, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by him.”

  “What could you say about me that he would worry about?” he asked.

  “I said I might fuck you.”

  He laughed an uncomfortable laugh. When I turned to look at him he gave me a small smile.

  “No way.”

  “Yeah, way,” I said, visualizing the exchange on the hill.

  “So what should I say happened?” he chuckled.

  I stared at him thinking, and he finally glanced from the road to me.

  “Tell him it’s the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

  “Guess that means you’re seriously mad,” he laughed.

  Bobby got out of the car and hugged me tight to him when he dropped me off. It felt like he was consoling, like he knew how I felt.

  “Morgan, it's Mathew,” he said at a loss for words.

  “I know, Bobby. I’ll be okay regardless, don’t worry.”

  Keeping up with the anger was the only thing that kept me from tears. Gayle was sitting in the family room when I came in the garage door. I didn’t stop when she locked eyes with me. I headed back to her bedroom and calmly shut the door. I threw myself on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. It was some time before the door opened.

  “The bad Mathew, I presume,” she said.

  I didn’t answer, hoping she would go away, embarrassed by my circumstances. She sat down on the side of the bed and rubbed my back.

  “Nice making me gimp down the hall to you. I’m sorry, Morgan.”

  The tears came silently.

  I spent the remainder of my time in town with Gayle. I didn’t try to reach Mathew. He didn’t try very hard to reach me. He called once. I hadn’t taken it. I left San Jose without seeing him again. I came back to San Diego determined to put Mathew behind me. The balance of the summer, I spent a lot of time at the beach with friends. There were lots of parties. The ocean was warm. There were lots of boys. I finally found some acceptance my senior year at San Pasqual High School. I wasn’t the new girl anymore.

  I serial dated, no one serious. I became a use-and-discard date, but this time it was me doing the discarding, I didn’t want anyone too close. More than a few boys were hurt by my inability to have anything more than fun. Love wasn’t an option. Mathew sent me pictures of the band with short notes, a flyer from a performance, a post card. He never said anything about us. I ignored it, never responded to him. I went to the senior prom with one guy and to graduation night at Disneyland with another. I had casual sex that meant nothing, and I wondered if I was broken for good. Gayle and I talked on the phone often. While she was dealing with the physical effects of her injuries, I was dealing with emotionally dissecting myself.

  Neither was easy.

  Chapter 37

  “When you coming this summer?” Gayle asked over the phone.

  It was hard to believe an entire year had passed. Gayle was back to her normal self. Her injuries had healed and she said she no longer dreamed about the accident.

  “I’m not sure I’m coming at all,” I answered.

  “You have to come. We’re free, done with high school. I’m better. We can hang and go to parties. I want you to come,” she begged. “I’ll find out where Kingdom Come is playing.”

  “That’s exactly what I need,” I said sarcastically.

  She knew I was kidding.

  “You talk to him yet?” she asked.

  “No. He’s sent me some stuff on what the band is up to. Not really a letter, just keeping me in the loop or on the line.”

  Even the stupid little things he sent made my heart jump, made the memories fill my head.

  “Are you still seeing that one guy?”

  “John? No, didn’t do it for me. Our lives are too different.”

  She sighed and I could picture the frown on her face.

  “It’s always something with them,” she scolded.

  “I’m apparently not girlfriend-boyfriend material,” I said. “Anyway, my flight gets in Friday, July first, at two thirty.”

  I was rolling a pencil on the Formica kitchen counter as I stood leaning against it, the phone to my ear. Gayle had told me anytime in July would be fine.

  “You shit, you planned on coming,” she said.

  I laughed.

  “I’ll meet you outside baggage, so you don’t have to park.”

  “I’ll meet you at the gate, just as easy,” she said.

  “Sure Jane will be cool with ten days?”

  “Of course she is.”

  I couldn’t wait to see Gayle, couldn’t wait to see her walking on her own again.

  When I walked through the gate, I searched the crowd for her. Not seeing her, I started down the terminal toward baggage claim. I figured we hadn’t communicated correctly, and she would be outside baggage.

  “Hey, kid,” I heard him say.

  I froze, knowing instantly it was Mathew. I waited until he was in front of me. My eyes locked with his, my mind racing. Mathew? Mathew? How? Before I could answer my own questions, he caught me up and pulled me into his arms, kissing me hard. Almost desperate, like he was afraid of what I might do. When I pulled back, he didn’t release me. I had to arch my back to pull away enough to get a good look at him. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter. It was obvious by his tan he had been hanging out at the beach. His blue eyes searched mine for a response. I smiled slightly, and he smiled back. I shook my head and took a deep breath. I was numb, in shock. I was having a hard time identifying what I was feeling actually. I waited. Sad, mad, shock, all rolled in one. Where was Gayle?

  “You have no idea how hard it was for me to convince Gayle to let me come,” he said.

  It was like he’d read my mind. I stared at him like he was a mirage.

  “How did you know I was coming?” I asked, perplexed.

  “I figured you would, so I called Gayle when school ended. She didn’t want to tell me much to begin with. She’s like a mother bear when it comes to you.”

  “Just regarding you,” I said firmly.

  I could picture Gayle telling him what a dick he’d been last summer, she wouldn’t hold back. I hoped she’d given him a verbal whipping.

  “You’re not mad I hope?”

  I was surprised. I didn’t have a response. I let him take my hand and walk me to baggage claim where we waited for my bag. I could feel him watching me, waiting. I was dumbfounded at Gayle. The bag finally came and, as I reached for it, he reached past me and removed it from the conveyor belt. When we got to his car,
he put my bag into the trunk and followed me to the passenger side of the car. As I reached for the handle, he put his hands on my waist, gently pushing me up against the car. Our conversation so far had been uncomfortable and awkward. Gayle, I’m going to kill you is all I could think. She’d put up with so much from him on my behalf, why this? I wanted to run, run back home, far away. How did I answer him?

  “I’m absolutely stunned you could talk Gayle into this,” I said. “You did talk her into this, right?”

  “I have my ways,” he grinned.

  “So you did, I mean, talk her into it. How?”

  I felt betrayed. Why would she do this? Especially knowing how last summer ended, and how hard I had tried to wiggle him out of my heart. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my face.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes to get over being mad,” he said.

  “Big of you,” I answered.

  He opened the car door for me. We hadn’t gotten very far out of the airport when he put his hand on my knee.

  “Jack’s or Gayle’s?” he asked.

  “That’s bold, very bold. Gayle’s,” I shot back.

  I’d heard that he had moved into Jack’s officially from his parents' place. I knew the band was very popular and playing all around the San Jose area, I knew about the female attention he was generating. Gayle, despite her feelings about Mathew and me, kept me up to date. I watched the traffic out the window. What the fuck was she thinking? I truly couldn’t understand any of it; I was dumbstruck.

  “Jack’s it is then,” he said, pushing the eight-track in.

  Carly Simon came blasting out. He sang the words to "You’re So Vain". I couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t much like my sappy kind of music.

  “I’m learning,” he said glancing at me.

  “Learning what? I hardly imagine you up on stage doing Carly Simon.”

  He took the exit towards Jack’s not Gayle’s.

  “I said Gayle’s,” I repeated firmly.

  He wasn’t listening. I had mixed emotions about being with him. The butterflies were confused, but they were there, as was the pressure in my chest.

  “She’ll be waiting, Mathew,” I said, frustrated.