by Claire Adams
I’m laughing, too. There’s nothing I can do about that.
It takes a minute for everyone in the immediate vicinity to stop laughing—there are a lot of false stops. Finally though, as Paz and I are each wiping away our own tears, she says, “How about that guy you’ve been seeing? How come I never hear anything about him? The two of you still a thing?”
“A thing, yeah,” I tell her. “We haven’t really had the conversation, but I’m hopeful.”
Paz is out of her chair and into the one sitting next to me in no more than three seconds. It’s an especially impressive feat as we’re sitting toward the middle of a long table, facing each other.
I’m giggling at her as she tries to catch her breath and speak at the same time.
“Dish,” she says. “Have you done it yet? Is he any good or is he like Lamar who didn’t really have adequate tools for the job?”
“You know that stuff makes me uncomfortable.”
“You don’t seem to mind when I go on about it,” she retorts.
I scoff. “Would it matter if I did? I’m used to you, okay? I’ve never been that open with stuff like this.”
Paz’s breath is bated. She says, “I know. So, are you going to make a change and embrace the new you or what?”
“We’re just wired differently,” I tell her. “You like to talk about this stuff. I like to keep it more private. Neither one’s a bad thing, we’re just different. That’s all.”
Now, will Paz see reason?
“I am not moving from this spot until you give me something,” she says.
I shrug and grab my tray. “All right. I’ll see you-”
She puts her hand on my shoulder and pushes down. “How about you give me something that’ll make me smile? I work hard around here for very little money and I get tired. From time to time, it’s nice to hear something nice, something that’ll make the world seem a little bit better because I know my chica’s getting her pipes cleaned!” she bursts into laughter again.
I don’t know why she thinks this is going to work. It’s because of stuff like this that I don’t tell her anything.
Actually, now that I think about it, it’s because of stuff like this that I don’t tell my parents anything, either. They’re not so much with the laughing, though. It’s more the concerned looks and the low voices. It’s the quiet sternness that makes me feel like I’ve just killed the twin sister that I don’t have.
Paz is still laughing, so I go to get up again. She pushes me back down in my seat—still laughing, mind you.
“This is why nobody likes you,” I tell her.
“What are you talking about? Everybody loves me, isn’t that right everybody?” she asks loudly.
There’s some scattered agreement, but not a lot.
Paz clears her throat and turns around in her seat, keeping her hand on my shoulder for good measure. “I said everybody loves me. Isn’t that right everybody?”
Through what I can only imagine is some form of Stockholm syndrome, nearly everyone in the cafeteria voices their approval.
“This is how dictatorships start,” I tell Paz.
“This dictatorship’s been in place since long before you got here,” she answers. “Now, give me something or I’m gonna be late to check on Mr. Durbin’s blood sugar. He’s very diabetic. I really hope nothing happens to him while I’m sitting here waiting for you to-”
“Fine,” I answer. “I don’t even know why I’m friends with you sometimes.”
“Because you’re too scared to be my enemy,” she says. “You’re not the only one. It’s part of my charm. So?”
I lean toward her, whispering in her ear like a child, I say, “We did in the back of his car.”
With a sound that’s remarkably similar to what cats sound like when they’re in heat, Paz gives me a firm pat on the shoulder and then removes her hand.
“Now was that so hard?” she asks. “How was it? Was it good?”
“I gave you something,” I tell her. “I think we’re done here.”
I’m waiting for Paz’s retort, but it doesn’t come. I look up to find my mother standing over me.
“Are you still on lunch, Volunteer Chavez?” my mom, or Dr. Chavez at the moment, asks.
“I’m still within my time, Dr. Chavez,” I answer.
“I think it sets a bad example for other volunteers when they see their fellows shirking their responsibilities to gab with their friends over lunch; wouldn’t you agree?”
Paz is still silent. That’s how intimidating my mother is to just about everyone.
“I take my duties very seriously, Dr. Chavez,” I respond. “I will make sure that I’m back working by or before the time my lunch break is over. Would you care to join us?”
That last part is just to get her to go away.
It works.
On the outside, I’m the respectful, though assertive, employee. On the inside, though, I am boiling rage and little else.
“Your mom creeps me out,” Paz says when Dr. Chavez is sufficiently out of earshot.
“It’s part of her charm,” I mutter, spearing a few of the rotini noodles on my plate.
* * *
For once, I’d like to be able to hear Eli while we’re driving, so we take my car. The fact Eli’s is in the shop again only makes him more agreeable.
I’m supposed to be in class right now, but after the week I’ve had dealing with my parents, especially my mother, I could use a night off.
We just drive around for a while, but I’m finding it difficult to break the silence.
“How was work?” Eli asks.
He’s trying; I just don’t have a lot to give right now.
“It was fine,” I tell him.
“Save any lives?”
“I’m not really involved with that,” I answer.
He’s quiet for a beat. “What’s wrong?”
When we first met up, I was so excited about cutting class. I felt like all those kids in the parking lot of my high school, or at least how I imagined they felt as I’d walk past them on the way to class.
For a while, I thought everything was wonderful.
Now, though, every minute that passes, I’m adding another one-hundred and fifty to the sum in my head. That’s about how many words Mrs. Draper speaks a minute. That’s how much lecture I’m missing every single minute.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him. “Things are just a little off-balance at home.”
“Got ya,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
He’s about to say something else, but I jump in, saying, “You showed me Grog Hill. Would you like to see where I go when I need to clear my head?”
It’s already dark, so sunset’s not an option, but still, overlooking the city in the warmth and comfort of my very own car sounds like my only other option than to drop Eli back off at his shop and see if I can catch the last bit of tonight’s class.
I’m committed to breaking out of this stupid rut, so there’s really only one way to go.
“Sure,” he says. “Where is it?”
“It’s a cul-de-sac in the middle of nowhere,” I tell him. “They were going to put in a new subdivision, but after the recession, they lost their investors. It’s not too far from Ghost Town, actually.”
“All right,” he agrees and so we go.
I’m still having trouble finding words until we’re about a block away from the cul-de-sac. “There’s really nothing intrinsically special about it, other than they just left it there out here past town with nothing around it,” I tell Eli. “They’d only started digging the first foundation before the whole thing fell.”
I know this because my parents were among the initial investors.
Parking the car, I lean my seat back a little.
“Have you ever thought about moving out of your parents’ house?” he asks.
“I wish it were that simple,” I tell him. “They’ve got me by the purse strings.”
“What’s to stop yo
u from getting a job that’ll pay?”
I glance over at him. “Your job doesn’t pay you,” I observe.
“Yeah, that’s because the shop I work at is actually a way for me to launder my ill-gotten winnings,” he laughs. “You’re actually doing stuff aboveboard. You should be able to bring something home.”
“Does it bother you that I work as a volunteer at the hospital?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I just see how miserable you are having to deal with your parents, and I don’t see how that’s going to change all that much until you’re able to get your own job and find your own place, you know?”
I was a little worried this conversation would turn into an offer for me to move in with him, but fortunately, he doesn’t bring it up. It’s not that I don’t like him; it’s just way too early in our unofficial relationship to even start thinking along those lines.
“Yeah,” I answer. “The problem is that if I do that, they’ll stop paying for school, so I’ll either have to drop out or go into enormous debt just to finish out my education.”
“Do you really want to be a doctor?”
I don’t answer.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s just weird for me to see you so timid.”
“Believe it or not,” I tell him, “that’s my default position.”
“Then why’s it so different when you’re around me?”
“Maybe it’s that I feel like I don’t have to pretend around you,” I tell him. “If I were to tell you I’m missing a class right now, what would you say?”
He shrugs. “I’d probably say that I’m glad you chose to spend your time with me.”
“That’s the difference,” I tell him. “You appreciate me for who I am, not for something you want me to be.”
Whoa, I think we just fell through a trap door and ended up right in the middle of “the conversation.”
Eli asks, “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I answer, grabbing his hand and holding it.
“Then why does it seem like you think there is?”
“It’s not how I was raised,” I tell him. God, that sounds icky coming out of my mouth.
He’s shaking his head. “Maybe that’s what people have been telling you your whole life, you just haven’t noticed that you don’t have to live your life that way,” he says. “Make yourself who you want to be, otherwise you’re going to be miserable and saving lives won’t change that fact.”
I know he’s right. I’ve known everything he’s saying for quite a while now. Things just aren’t that simple.
“I’m working on it,” I tell him.
“I know you are,” he says. “Maybe it’s time to stop taking baby steps, though.”
“Yeah.”
The moon is lighting the dirt ground on the other side of the raised curb of the cul-de-sac, and as I gaze over it, I’m starting to get really tired.
I yawn.
“Getting tired?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I don’t want to go home, though.”
“You can stay over at my place,” he says. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere you can lay your head.”
“I have to go home, though. Otherwise, the parents are liable to call the cops again, and I was really hoping to spend a night with you that doesn’t involve flashing lights,” I tell him.
“What do you want to do?” he asks. “Do you want to stay here a little while longer or do you want to head back?”
“Are we a thing?” I ask.
Eli looks over at me with raised eyebrows, saying, “What?”
Again, I’m already in it, so I may as well keep going. “You know,” I tell him, “are we boyfriend/girlfriend or are we just particularly physical friends, or what?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “We’ve never really talked about it.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
Do I jump first, or do I wait for him to make sure I don’t break my neck at the bottom?
He answers before I can make a decision, saying, “I’d like it if we were a thing—in a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of relationship. Where are you on it?”
I’m beaming, the momentousness of the moment short-circuiting my tiredness, if only for a few minutes. “I’m with you,” I tell him.
“Hey, I see what you did there,” he says.
I snicker. “So, I guess that makes it official, huh?”
“I guess so,” he says.
Only a word or two have changed, but somehow this suddenly feels a lot bigger. Unfortunately, my eyelids are starting to droop.
“Can I ask you a favor as your brand new girlfriend?”
He smiles, answering, “What is it, dear?”
“Eww,” I say, shuddering.
He laughs. “What did you need?” he tries again.
“Would you mind just driving around for a while? I’ve got to go home before too long, but I just want to close my eyes a while before I have to get back there. Is that weird?”
“Not weird at all,” he answers. “Not a problem.”
I give him a kiss on the cheek and we get out of the car, passing each other around the front and get in each other’s doors.
After I get the seat moved forward, I buckle up, saying, “Thank you for understanding.”
“Everyone needs a night off every once in a while,” he says.
He pulls away from the curb, and as we drive over the next hour, we speak a little, but mostly I drift back and forth between sleep and wakefulness, safe and comfortable in Eli’s care.
Chapter Eight
The Old College Try
Eli
Here I am, finishing up a quick oil change before I clock out for the day, and Kate comes up behind me saying, “Enough messing around. I want to drive today.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “Did you have anything in particular that you wanted to drive, or any specific destination? Are you asking my permission? Because I think you’re old enough now to make your own decisions.”
“Hilarious,” she mocks. “If I’m not mistaken, you should be getting off work right about…” she’s looking down at her watch, “now.”
“Got to finish this up before I go,” I tell her. “Besides, you kind of dropped in on me there. How do you know I don’t have plans?”
“Do you have plans?”
“Not sure yet,” I tell her. “I was going to see what my girlfriend was up to.”
She rolls her eyes. “She wants you to give her the keys to one of your cars, get in the passenger’s seat—assuming there’s one in there—and give her advice so she doesn't die while she is out there.”
“She’s not gonna get it,” I tell her.
Her hands ball into fists, and I think we’ve just crossed the line from playful banter into shit-hitting-fan mode.
“Before you take a swing at me,” I start, holding my palms up and toward her, “I’m just saying that because I don’t want either of us to die.”
“Oh, so I’m a bad driver now?”
“No,” I tell her. “It’s because the Chevelle has twelve-hundred horsepower. That’s barely within what I can handle, and I’ve been doing this for a long time. Last race, I almost crashed more than once. Then there’s the Galaxie, but it’s unreliable as it is. I just thought it might be best for a first on-the-road lesson to take something a little more manageable, like your car. It’s not because you’re a woman or anything; both of my cars scare me. If you start grabbing power tools, I’m not above screaming to save myself.”
Her red face clenches together, and her fists are so tight her fingers are starting to go white when she bursts into laughter.
Mission accomplished.
“Fine,” she says. “Just finish up so we can get out there while there’s still a bit of daylight left.”
“It’s four o’clock,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she says. “Time’s a wasting.” She claps her hands together. “Get to it.”
&nbs
p; I’ve created a monster.
Apparently, both Maye and the guy waiting in the shop for me to finish up his oil change are finding this whole situation hilarious, as I can hear them both cackling through the glass.
I finish up the lube job and ring the customer up. We settle up and, after washing my hands, I clock out.
Kate’s already waiting for me in her car and, as I approach, she honks the horn a few times in quick succession in an attempt to hurry me along. In protest, I walk a lot slower to the passenger door.
“Come on!” she’s calling from inside the car as I bend down to tie my shoe.
Finally, I get in.
She throws the car in reverse and tries to peel out of the parking lot. It’s a valiant effort.
We get going on the road, going the same direction we went when I took her for the run through Ghost Town. She gets the car going eighty before I motion for her to ease off.
“What?” she asks. “I’m just trying to get a feel for the higher speeds.”
“Speed is great,” I start, “but if you don’t know how to corner, you’re useless in anything but drag races. That’s all well and good if you take your car to the track for race day every month, but if you’re-”
“Okay, so cornering,” she interrupts. “Other than slowing down for the turn and rotating the wheel, is there that much more to know?”
“There’s a lot. I can go over some of that with you, but a lot of it is going to be you getting used to taking corners going a lot faster than you’re used to.”
“Okay,” she says, hitting the gas again as we approach the long curve. “Where should we go to practice that?”
“Ghost Town,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen a little. “But police are all over there, aren’t they?”
“Not necessarily,” I tell her. “They know people race through there all the time, but as long as you’re only doing the speed limit, and you’re not doing donuts or anything, we’ll be able to do a quick look through to see if there are going to be any problems.”