Rotten Apple
Page 9
Apple remembered being in the middle of a twelve-page, double-sided, single-spaced, handwritten letter from a woman telling her mother about her secret affair with her sister’s fiancé. Apple had found herself thoroughly entranced with the story, not so much with what the writer was going through as with her openness in sharing it. And putting it on paper! Even at age ten, Apple knew way more about love than most adults, but because this woman and her sister and the fiancé were all willing to go on television and talk about it, she was astonished. She had just gotten to the part in the letter where the woman was saying that the fiancé was still choosing between the sisters when her mother and Guy had walked into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her mother had asked her as Guy raced over and grabbed the letter, giving her hand a little slap.
“Hey! I was just in the middle of that!” Apple had said, trying to grab the letter back from Guy, who was hiding it behind his back. “What’s the big deal?”
“How would you feel,” she remembered her mother asking, “if you knew someone was reading a personal letter you sent? And you’re ten! How would you feel if you found out you sent someone a letter and a ten-year-old was reading it?”
“How would they ever find out?” Apple remembered having asked, and her mother had told her that that wasn’t the point. “The point is that you have to respect people’s privacy,” she swore her mother had told her.
“Privacy? What a joke!” Apple had said. “They’re asking to be on your show. They want to tell you their problems in front of so many people they don’t even know!”
She remembered vaguely that her mother had looked over at Guy, and that Guy had shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, “You answer that.” Apple had known her mother didn’t know how to respond.
But again, her mother had told her that that wasn’t the point. “They’re writing to me,” she had responded.
Obviously, her mother’s views on privacy had changed, Apple thought sarcastically. Obviously, her mother now felt that it was okay to invade people’s privacy, even those who were related to her by blood.
She clicked on another e-mail randomly. See how my mother likes this, Apple thought.
Dear Queen of Hearts,
How is it that two people can be on such different pages in the same relationship? I told someone who I was with for a while, and who I believed really loved me like I loved him, that if he asked me to marry him, I would say yes. He said it was never going to happen. That ended our relationship instantly. I’m feeling so rejected.
Suddenly, a subject line on one of the e-mails caught Apple’s eye. It read, “Apple’s friend needs help!!!”
This was curious, Apple thought, a little terrified to open it. But she did, holding her breath.
Dear Dr. Bee Bee Berg,
I know this is strange, me being the best friend of your daughter. It’s me, Happy. I just really need some objective advice. And, it’s like you always say, even your best friends just want you to be happy, so they won’t tell you the truth. I have a date with this guy I really like on Friday night. It’s the first time that I’ve really liked someone. And it’s weird, because even though we’ve been going to the same school for years, I never really knew he existed. So I don’t want to screw this up. I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. As I’m sure Apple has told you, I watch your show religiously, like she is obsessed with Minors in Malibu. So can you please tell me how I should act? Do you have any surefire ways of NOT screwing up a first date? I really appreciate you taking the time.
xoxox
Happy
Apple reread the e-mail a dozen times. How could Happy do this to her, and behind her back? She felt betrayed. After all, her friend felt comfortable enough asking her to find out information about how Zen was feeling about her. She felt comfortable enough asking her to put in a good word to Zen. She felt comfortable enough asking her how to get on Queen of Hearts. Why wasn’t her best friend asking her for advice? Apple ran her hands through her mop of hair. Why was everyone who supposedly loved her disappointing her so much? Happy not telling Apple she was doing this stung almost as much as Plan Z bombing. Apple found herself hitting Reply. She told herself that she simply was not going to let her mother pass off her tired old advice on Happy. She, Apple, knew Happy better than anyone in the world, after all. Apple rubbed her hands together and started to type a response. You can do this, Apple. Just pretend you are a younger, more hip version of Dr. Bee Bee Berg. Just pretend you are your mother, giving out advice. You are the daughter of Dr. Bee Bee Berg. You must have it in you somewhere to dish it out. If Guy can do it, and he’s a man, you can do it. Think, Apple, think.
“Dear Happy,” she typed. “It’s so nice to hear from you. I’m sorry I haven’t seen more of you recently …”
Now what would her mother’s advice be? She knew her advice would be to just be yourself. That was always her mother’s no-nonsense advice to people when they worried about first dates or blind dates or meeting people on the Internet.
No, thought Apple. I need Happy and Zen’s date not to work out. Because if it did, that could lead to a second date … and a third … and if it didn’t work out between them after all that, then Apple would be caught in between her best friend and Zen. And then if they started hating each other, Apple would never even be able to talk to Zen again, because she would have to side with Happy. No, she had to stop Happy and Zen from starting anything significant. What would the opposite of her mother’s advice be? That was what Apple had to send Happy. She had to send Happy bad advice, not good advice. Apple felt like a crazy person. She felt like Crazy Aunt Hazel must have felt, when she was caught by—what was his name?—sneaking through the stuff in his closet. She just couldn’t stop herself. She realized, the more she thought about it, that she now, more than ever, wanted to be the one to go out on a date with Zen. She wished she was the one who was so worried about a first date. She thought of all the ways Aunt Hazel had screwed up on her dates. That would be perfect, Apple thought. She’d just send Happy tips to do the things that had always resulted in disaster for Hazel. She continued to type.
Here are three tips you should absolutely follow on a first date. One, flirt mercilessly, and look your very sexiest. Put on some of your best perfume and be sassy. Touch him. Two, compliment him mercilessly. Flattery will get you everywhere. Keep telling him how great he is. Three, find out as much about his interests as you can, even if this means looking through his address book on his phone. And the most important tip: don’t act all that emotionally involved or interested. I know this sounds weird, but people are always attracted to what they can’t have. So act like he can’t have you. I think that’s it for now. Good luck on your date, and let me know how it all works out.
Dr. Bee Bee Berg
Apple reread what she had written. She knew she had just advised Happy to do what had always failed for her aunt when she was in relationships or dating someone. And also, from the brief conversation she had with Zen at the club, she knew she was telling Happy to act in a way Zen would detest, or that would at the very least make him uncomfortable. Zen would absolutely hate it if Happy flattered him too much. Apple knew this.
Apple hated herself. No, she wouldn’t send it. How could she? She was not an evil person. She was just confused about everything. And just writing it out had made her feel better anyway. She was about to delete her response when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
Apple immediately felt her heart speed up.
“H-e-l-l-o? Anybody up here?” she heard Guy call out.
She raced to close down the computer. But her fingers couldn’t keep up with her racing mind. All she could think about was that Guy was here and he was going to catch her. She ran her fingers over the mouse pad. Why, thought Apple, is this computer taking so long to do anything? She started clicking away like a madwoman, paying more attention to the sound of Guy’s footsteps than to what she was doing. Shut down, computer! Shut
down!
Your message has been successfully sent. The message suddenly popped up on the screen. My message has been what? WHAT?
Oh my God, Apple thought when she realized what she had done. She had sent the e-mail to Happy! In her panic trying to log out and not get caught, she had sent out her response e-mail.
“Apple!” Guy said, just as Apple shut down her mother’s computer. Thank God, the screen had gone black.
“Oh, hey, Guy,” she said, her heart pounding a million times a second. Apple was sure her face was as red as a fire truck. Still, she swiveled around in the chair to face him, trying to act as normally as possible in this state of disaster.
“What are you doing up here?” he asked.
“Oh, well, um, my computer is having troubles and I had to send in a class assignment, so I had no choice but to use this one. I’ve just finished. So it’s all yours,” Apple said.
“Thanks, darling!” Guy said. “Guy’s got a ton to do. There’s no rest for the wicked!”
“Where’s Mom tonight?” Apple asked, still trying to act like she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.
“She’s accepting the city’s Woman of the Year Award,” Guy said.
“Didn’t she already get that?” Apple asked. She scanned her eyes over the walls, which were covered in framed awards.
“Well, yes. But it seems they have Woman of the Year awards almost every week!” Guy laughed. “I wonder where she’ll hang this one? You know, you guys may have to move to a bigger place to hang all of her awards.”
“Well, I’ve got more schoolwork to do,” Apple said, “See ya!” She headed up to her room.
What had she done? How was it possible for her to make so many wrong turns in one day? There was nothing for Apple to do now but wait. Wait to see if Zen broke his date with Happy. And, if he didn’t, wait to see if Happy followed her awful advice. She also had to wait to see if she would get caught having snuck into her mother’s e-mail. And, worst of all, she would have to wait to see, if the date did in fact happen, if it turned out to be a good date, where the conversation flowed effortlessly, they made each other laugh, and, gulp, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
t 10 p.m. on Friday night, Apple found herself sitting next to Brooklyn on a beanbag chair at Club Rox. Guy had driven her there, after dropping by the house to pick up some work. Apple had had butterflies in her stomach all week. For most of the week, in fact, she had felt like lying under her covers in bed and never coming out. And now that it was Friday, she was in pure obsession mode. It was good for her to be out, she thought. It was good that Zen hadn’t seemed to tell Happy about her telling him about the lifeguard fling. At least, Apple thought, being out with Brooklyn will hopefully help me keep my mind off Zen and Happy, who are on their date right now. The club was packed, teeming with students. Her mother had some event that night, and her dad had gone to the club with some of his co-workers. God only knew where Aunt Hazel was. Or with whom.
Apple sipped on a rum and Coke, thanks to Brooklyn’s foresight. They had poured it into their Cokes under the table. Apple was impressed. Not only had Brooklyn managed to sneak out of her house from under the watchful eyes of the Helicopter, she had managed to steal a bottle of rum on her way out. It was exactly what Apple needed. She wasn’t a drinker, but she wanted to at least try to shut her brain off. She wanted to try to have fun. And if she had to get drunk to do it…
Apple couldn’t help but think, at that point, that Happy and Zen had been on their date for almost two hours. She looked at her watch. Yup. Two and a half hours now.
“I bet it’s going well,” Brooklyn said. “Don’t you think it is?”
Apple knew Brooklyn was talking about Happy and Zen’s date. Like her mother, Brooklyn was always optimistic about love.
“Probably,” Apple answered. “What could go wrong?”
“Right! It’s Happy after all. Everything always works out for Happy,” Brooklyn said. “She puts out good vibes into the world.” It was all Apple could do to grunt out a response. She was here to have fun and keep her mind off The Date, not here to talk about it all night.
“So, see any cute boys?” Apple asked Brooklyn, scanning the room, trying to get out of the conversation.
“I see a few,” Brooklyn answered, nodding her head toward a guy standing by a wall alone. “What do you think about him?”
“Not my type,” Apple answered. “He’s wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt. I think he’s way more your type, Brooklyn.”
She knew her only type was Zen, but she couldn’t exactly say that to Brooklyn. She didn’t even know why she had such a huge crush on him and had for so long. She just knew that she did. Apple didn’t think she could ever be attracted to a guy who wasn’t Zen. She had invested so much time into liking Zen and obsessing about him from afar that she hadn’t even thought about other guys in years.
“Brooklyn, I think that guy is staring at you right now,” Apple said. “And it looks kind of like he has a yoga body, too.”
“Where? Where?” Brooklyn asked.
“That guy you pointed out standing alone by the wall!” Apple said, and Brooklyn slyly looked over.
“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” Brooklyn asked, after furtively checking him out again while pretending to look for someone she knew in the club.
“He is,” Apple agreed.
“I think he’s checking you out, not me,” Brooklyn said.
“Um, no. He’s definitely checking you out. You should go talk to him,” Apple suggested.
“No, I can’t leave you. Hey, I think I hear your phone ringing,” Brooklyn said. “It’s definitely not mine. Remember? The Helicopter took it away.”
Apple looked into her bag, which was on a low table in front of them. Brooklyn bopped her head to the loud music.
“Hello?” Apple yelled over the noise, holding a hand over her other ear. “Happy? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me! Are you guys still out? Where are you? At Rox? I can barely hear you. I’m coming to meet you guys now,” she heard Happy say.
“What?” Apple screamed.
“I SAID I’M COMING TO MEET YOU!” Happy screamed into her ear. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Sailor’s just leaving the house now, so she’ll drop me off. See you soon!”
Apple closed her phone and put it back into her bag.
“That was Happy?” Brooklyn asked.
“Yup. She’s coming to meet us,” Apple said, taking a long sip of her drink. When had she become so nervous about seeing her best friend?
“Cool! Wait. It’s only twenty to eleven.” Brooklyn said, looking at her watch. “Do you think that means her date was crappy or something?”
“I don’t know,” Apple said. “I guess we’ll find out soon.”
“Oh, God. I really hope it didn’t go badly. I really think Happy likes him. I hope she’s okay,” Brooklyn said, twisting her hair around her fingers viciously. It was what Brooklyn did when she was nervous and there were no yoga mats around.
“I’m sure she’s fine. It’s Happy! Happy never has a bad time,” Apple said, trying to sound convincing. “Like you said, she has good vibes.”
“You’re right. You’re right. She’ll be here soon and will tell us everything.”
Almost exactly twenty minutes later, they saw Happy saunter in. Apple couldn’t help but notice all the guys studying her as she walked by them. That was the effect Happy’s look had on strangers. She was like Moses parting the Red Sea.
“Hey!” Happy said, lightheartedly, taking a seat on the beanbag. “This place is crazy! Apple, you look pretty. Hey, are you drunk?” Happy asked. “Your eyes are so red.”
“Thanks. And, yes, I think I may be a little drunk. So, how did the date go? Where did he take you? What did you guys do? Did you have fun?” Apple asked, hating herself for sounding so, well, so much like her nosy mother.
“It was fine,” Happy said. “It was fun. We had a good time.”
“It was fine, that’s what I mean. It was fine,” Happy repeated, shrugging her shoulders.
Brooklyn and Apple exchanged looks. Usually Happy was so open and willing to talk about the details of every aspect of her life. Happy was like the guests on Queen of Hearts with Dr. Bee Bee Berg. She had no problem sharing the most intimate details of her life, especially not with her two best friends. She even liked shocking her friends with her antics.
“Come on, guys! Don’t look at each other like that,” Happy said. “I’m sitting right here! I can see you!”
“Okay,” said Apple carefully. “So what exactly did you guys do?”
“We went to dinner and walked around and went for a coffee,” Happy said. “God, the music is rocking tonight. Anyone up for some dancing? Because I know I am.”
“Wait,” Apple said, grabbing her friend’s arm. Happy had stood up, ready to hit the dance floor. “So was dinner good?”
She knew, from being a private person herself, when someone didn’t want to talk, and yet she couldn’t stop pressing Happy for information. She felt the way she imagined her mother must feel when she pressed Apple for answers. It was frustrating not to get answers, especially detailed answers.
“It was fine, like I said,” Happy responded, starting to shake her hips to the beat of the music.
Apple knew the date with Zen couldn’t have been that good if all Happy would say was that it was “fine.” Fine was not good. She knew that something must have gone wrong, and that Happy didn’t want to talk about it. She wondered if Happy had followed her advice and had spent dinner complimenting and flattering Zen, something Apple knew made him very uncomfortable. She wondered if Happy had made a fool of herself by “flirting mercilessly” like she had suggested while pretending to be Dr. Bee Bee Berg responding to Happy’s e-mail.