Lost in Seattle (The Miss Apple Pants series, #2)

by Charlotte Roth

  I could finally just be myself and be loved for who I was—blushing and all. But the flipside of feeling alive was feeling miserable too, and lately it had gotten worse. In the beginning I had only felt sad and really sorry for myself when I saw, heard, or felt something that reminded me of him, but recently I got nauseated and dizzy just thinking about him, and I was beginning to suspect that maybe it wasn’t the flu after all. How do you know if you are sick with love?

  I looked up at Mount Rainer. Why had I been so stupid and so afraid to stay in touch with him? I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to remember his square face kissing me in his bedroom. But somehow, I couldn’t really remember his face that well anymore. Maybe nine hours wasn’t enough time for memorizing each single feature of a face, even if it was perfectly symmetric. I did, though, clearly remember the tiny freckles on his nose—just the right amount to make him handsome-cute, not as in a six-year-old-boy-missing-half-his-teeth cute. But what I remembered the most was the tingling in my entire body every time I looked into his big blue eyes. Was tingling what people called falling in love? If so, I had never fully understood what falling in love meant. Not until now. Not until Hans. I had never really understood all the drama, the crying, the “oh, how I miss him” and the obsession with love.

  Now, lying in the wet grass at the foot of Mount Rainier, I was doing all of the above. At least I didn’t have the regrets that usually go hand in hand with the whole falling-in-love-theme. My first time had been very special, and I had learned that having sex doesn’t necessarily equal some awkward and embarrassing moment in the backseat of a car, giving it up to some guy you hope you never see again, or at least not the following Monday. My four weeks of accumulated mourning was suddenly interrupted by a gentle tapping on my shoulder. Please, let it be someone I can beat or outrun—Mount Rainer and all. Slowly, I opened one eye. A friendly looking guy (whew) wearing a Seahawks cap hovered over me.

  “Do you know whether it’s safe to go up?” he asked in a weird accent. He pointed toward the path covered in snow further up the mountain. “Up there,” he repeated.

  I sat up straight and looked at him and what I assumed to be his girlfriend standing right behind him. He was tall and super skinny and was wearing shorts, Converse shoes, and one of those multi-pocket vests with at least twenty pockets on the front of it. She, almost as tall and skinny as him, was wearing a pair of tights, a “Hard Rock” tank top, and flats.

  “Well, I guess you could, but maybe you should come back another day with some different shoes.”

  They both looked down at their shoes and started laughing in a way that made me think of Beavis and Butthead.

  “I guess we better,” the girl said, giggling.

  “Are you, um, going up there?” he said. They both looked down at my weatherproof shoes.

  “Nope, I’m actually heading down now.” I stood up.

  “Oh yeah?” they both said.

  “We could go down together,” I suggested, since they just stood there staring, waiting for someone to reboot them.

  “Um, cool,” Beavis said

  “Um, okay,” Butthead echoed.

  By the time we finally hit ground level, I had learned all about Beavis, a.k.a. Erin, and Butthead, a.k.a. Martin, and how they had moved all the way from Utah, trying to get away from Erin’s rigid family.

  “They wouldn’t even let us spend the night together, even though we are both over twenty-one,” Martin explained.

  “Over my dead body! I will have no sin. I will have no fornication in this house. This is a house of God,” Erin said, mocking what I believed to be her father’s angry voice. They had eloped to Vegas and gotten married with Elvis and Lady Gaga as their two witnesses. And now they had moved to Washington to start all over—in the name of love.

  “Have you ever been in love?” Erin turned and asked me right when the trail split into three different paths.

  I nodded.

  “With who?” she asked, gently slipping her hand into Martin’s.

  “It’s a long story,” I said, slipping my hands into my pockets.

  “It always is.” She gazed up at her runaway husband. “You still love him, huh?” She looked down at me and smiled a somewhat motherly way.

  “Yes,” I said, without looking at her.

  “Were you with him for a long time?”

  “No, like, nine hours or so” I said, realizing how lame that sounded. I was in love with a total stranger.

  “Oh,” she said, probably thinking that her Vegas slash Elvis slash Lady Gaga wedding just got upgraded.

  “But it felt like a lifetime,” I added, knowing how even more lame that sounded. But it was true and saying it out loud like that almost made me cry again.

  “I’m sure,” she said, letting go of Martin’s hand, moving a little closer. “You know, I knew Martin was the one the moment I saw him standing at the counter at McDonalds, and when he opened his mouth to take my order, well, I had no doubts. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes it can take only seven seconds.” She moved even closer and wrapped her skinny arms around me. Was she saying this to make me feel better? If so, it wasn’t really working.

  “So true,” Butthead interjected, and wrapped his long arms around the both of us.

  And just like that I found myself in group hug with Beavis and Butthead at the foothills of Mount Rainer, and even though it felt really weird (and probably looked even weirder), it also felt really nice. For the first time in weeks I finally let myself be sad for a moment in front of someone else—and I cried in the long and skinny arms of two perfect strangers. Later I couldn’t help but think of how proud Mom would have been if she could have seen her shy and bad-at-making-new-friends daughter making instant friends, and hugging them, on a mountain in Washington.

  Suddenly I heard Miss T calling my name. I looked up and saw her standing on top of one of the picnic tables, waving her red scarf.

  “Yoohoo,” she yelled, “over here.”

  “Who’s that little woman?” Martin asked, chuckling.

  Both Erin and Martin let go of me and turned to look at Miss T and the waving scarf that was bigger than her.

  “Do you know her?” Erin said, squinting her eyes.

  “It’s my BFF, Miss T,” I explained and waved back at her, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

  “Oh yeah,” they both said at the same time. Apparently, they were in sync too.

  I said goodbye to my new friends, thinking that even though I was getting better at this whole making-friends thing, apparently I wasn’t so good at long-term relationships, and walked over to join Miss T, still waving her scarf on top of the designated picnic table.

  “Whoa,” I said as I sat down next to a giant pineapple. “Whoa,” I said again, looking at the crazy extravagant display of food. The whole table was pretty much plastered with food—all nicely organized around the buttery carrot cake. If there was a thing missing, I wouldn’t know it. I looked up at Miss T, sitting on the edge on the table. “Who else is coming?” I laughed and started to untie my shoes.

  Miss T stepped down from the table and sat down right across from me. “Just you and me. You and me,” she repeated, staring at the huge pineapple next to me. “Ella, I...” She paused and looked straight at me the way a school teacher would, probably the way she looked at her students many years ago. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean I’m your friend, and I would never judge you. No matter what.”

  “Okay, um, thanks.” I smiled and looked up at the snow-covered mountain. I had no clue what she was getting at. I had already told her everything about Hans and the having sex part, even though I sure hadn’t planned to (I hadn’t planned on telling anyone, let alone Miss T), but she had been there the morning after my night with Hans. I didn’t get up until late in the afternoon, and I had found her sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me to get up.

  “Oh my, you’re up early,” she said with a wink.

  “What time is it?” I said,
heading for the coffee maker.

  “After two. Abby and Frank had to leave. Some lunch thing with some of your dad’s colleagues.” She smiled. “At Salty’s,” she added with an important nod.

  “Salty’s?”

  “At Alki beach. Very fancy. Very pricy. Only been there once for brunch. I swear, I didn’t eat for three days after that.” She laughed.

  I took a seat beside her and sipped my coffee as I looked out the window. It looked hot and sunny—a true August day.

  “Abby said it got really late last night?” she said, looking out of the window, too.

  “Uh-huh.” I took a sip of my coffee, which almost made me gag; it tasted really bad, like, ass-bad, as if it had been cooking in the pot all day.

  Miss T nodded at me and smiled. “I know. It’s old.” She nodded in the direction of the coffeemaker. “It tastes older than me,” she said, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Well, I won’t say what it tastes like then.” I got up and tossed the hideous coffee in the sink and grabbed the coffeepot. “Fresh load?”

  “Of course,” she said behind me. “Have you ever heard me say no to a cup of coffee?” I could hear she was smiling.

  “Nope. Like a true English teacher,” I said, thinking about the coffee mug tiny Miss Kim would always carry around that said, “Keep it coming.”

  “Abby didn’t want to leave you alone today. I’m babysitting,” she said with a teasing voice.

  “Babysitting?” I grabbed the coffee from the cabinet and turned around.

  “Yes, she said you were kind of ... how shall I put it... vulnerable?”

  “Vulnerable? Is that how she put it?” I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Sad?” she suggested and smiled with her eyes.

  “Huh.” I turned around again and started to fill the pot. “I was,” I said with my back to her.

  “Why?”

  I turned off the water and looked out the window. A tiny squirrel was pushing a huge apple across the driveway. The apple was double the size of the poor squirrel.

  Suddenly the pot slipped right out of my hands and in a blink of an eye there was water and glass everywhere—on the counter, down the cabinets, on the floor, and on me. I turned around in my soaking-wet pajamas, still holding on to the remains of the coffee pot. “Because I kissed, fell in love, had half a beer, half a night, had sex, safe sex, and said goodbye to Hans. All in one night.” I picked up a big piece of glass from the floor and threw it in the sink.

  Miss T stood up. “Oh dear. Now put that thing down and then you go and get some dry clothes on,” she demanded. “I’ll clean up, and you come back in here and start all over. From the beginning. Oh dear,” she said, going for the vacuum cleaner in the closet next to the stove.

  “What about the coffee?” I said looking at the broken coffee pot scattered all over the kitchen floor.

  “Instant,” she said and grabbed the container from the cabinet. “Coffee—the Abby way,” she said, smiling.

  When I had returned in my dry clothes, I told her everything about my night with Hans—including the appearance of the restroom and the three identical toothbrushes.

  Sitting at the picnic table, I looked at Miss T, my neighbor, my friend. She was right; she had never judged me for one second. She just sat there, listening, smiling, and drinking coffee the Abby way that night.

  I looked up at Mount Rainier. A tiny cloud, almost the shape of Florida, was blocking the sun. “I know I can trust you, Miss T.”

  “No matter what?” she repeated quietly, also looking up at Mount Rainier.

  I nodded and grabbed a handful of grapes from the fruit basket.

  “Ella,” she said with a serious voice. “How far along are you, dear?”

  “I know,” I said, already feeling a stab of guilt. “I know, but just so you know, I already told Dad that we need to step it up. I’m doing one hour of algebra every single day starting next week. Promise!” I pointed my index finger at her and smiled. “Come on, Miss T, I thought we came here to have fun, not to talk about algebra and homework! So, what’s with the whole ‘how far are you, dear?’” I said, imitating her voice.

  “No, I said, how far along are you, Ella?” she said again, serious eyes locked on mine.

  Downhill from here

  I looked up. Florida had moved on, and Mount Rainer was almost blinding me with her snow-covered body. I took a deep breath and sucked in the crisp air, and that’s when I realized what she was getting at.

  But I’m not. I can’t be. How could she...

  I shook my head and smiled. “Don’t worry, Miss T. I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you mean. Remember I told you, we used a... um .... a...” Why was it so hard to say?

  “Condom. Yes, I know. You told me, and I’m so proud you did. A lot of people don’t, especially first timers.” She smiled. “But sometimes it can go wrong. Nothing is a hundred percent bulletproof. Are you sure?” She grabbed the thermos and poured a cup of tea, not taking her eyes off me.

  “I don’t know. I guess. I think. I mean... we... I...” Suddenly it felt like someone had punched all the air right out of me and a thousand thoughts and images ran through my head. I was back in the bedroom with Hans. He was putting on a condom. We were having sex.

  Then I saw myself pushing a big stroller up the snow-covered Mount Rainer. When I looked in the stroller I saw a little square faced LEGO block. It was blue.

  “Dear, when was the last time you had your period?” Miss T blew her tea and looked very calmly at me.

  My eyes shifted toward my lap and I shook my head. I can’t. I can’t be. I just can’t be.

  I glanced back up at Miss T and tried to say something, I don’t know what exactly, but I couldn’t. I had two grapes stranded in my mouth and I didn’t know if I was choking on them or the words that were stuck in the back of my throat. Either way, I was choking.

  “Here!” Miss T grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to me.

  Desperately, I unscrewed the cap and took a huge sip. “Thanks.” I finally managed to say something.

  “Have you had your period since Hans and you, you know?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know,” I whispered. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think beyond the little blue LEGO block staring right back at me. And I couldn’t breathe.

  “Try to think, Ella,” Miss T said in a calm, reassuring voice. “Take a deep breath and try to think.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember the date, but I couldn’t even remember the month we were in. I was blank. “I don’t know,” I cried with the last breath of air in me. I banged my head against the table and tried to take in some air. So, this was how it felt like standing in quicksand; a slow death.

  Miss T reached for my hand. “Not that I want to get you all upset, dear, but I think you might be,” she said, squeezing my hand tight. “I don’t know what it is, but I have always had a radar when it comes to pregnant women. Maybe it’s from being so obsessed with becoming pregnant myself all of those years? Or maybe it’s just female intuition, but I can usually tell by a woman’s eyes.”

  “Eyes?” I tried to control my voice, but it was wobbling like the rest of me. I peeked up at Mount Rainer. The loud voices inside my head were starting to give me a headache. Where was the soothing sound of nature when you needed it? I moved the big pineapple and a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and lay my head on the table.

  “You know what they say about the eyes?” she said, widening her own eyes at the same time.

  I shook my head. Why were we still talking about eyes? “Take a few deep breaths, baby,” I could hear Mom say as she always would when I was too upset to speak. I tried again. I couldn’t, and so instead I think I started to hyperventilate, and suddenly I felt my heartbeat thrashing in my ears.

  “Well, the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and when I looked into your eyes this morning, somehow I just knew,” she said, still so calm, “and then when Abby t
old me that you haven’t been feeling well for a few weeks, and that you haven’t been eating well, and that you have been so tired all the time, well it all makes sense to me now.” She looked at me and smiled. Again, she reached for my hand, this time squeezing it a little harder, and we sat like this for a while—no words between us.

  “Does coffee make you sick in the morning?” she asked.

  I nodded. Even the word coffee—once associated with indulgence, happiness and dark chocolate—made me nauseated just thinking about it.

  “Does the thought of a sunny side up egg makes you want to throw up?”

  Again, I nodded, thinking about Dad’s disgusting plate of eggs on toast a few days earlier. I had almost barfed into my bowl of cereal when he cut into the smelly thing and the yolk dripped from his fork. “Uh-huh,” I said, shivering.

  “Are your breasts more tender than usual?”

  “My, um, breasts?” I whispered, looking over my shoulder.

  She nodded and smiled.

  I looked down into the table. I could already feel myself blushing. Even after everything I had told her about Hans that sunny afternoon in the kitchen, it still felt really weird talking about my breasts. I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said, still not looking at her. I leaned over and reached for my water bottle. My breasts were slightly touching the edge of the table. Are they more tender than normal? I pressed them a little harder against the table. They did feel a little tender. I pressed them even harder against the table. Definitely a little more tender. “Maybe,” I mumbled, suddenly remembering how Dad had accidently bumped into me on the couch a week earlier, and I snapped at him. In fact, I had been irritable with everyone the past few weeks, for no reason. He just chocked it up to me having my period, which really pissed me off. Now that I thought about it, I noticed some tenderness in my breasts that day, but I thought it was from the collision with Dad.