The Opposite of Hallelujah

by Anna Jarzab

  I could just picture Hannah at twelve, all prepubescent gangly limbs and yellow hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail, sitting alone and silent in a classroom while the mean girls took swings at her. My heart swelled with tenderness and empathy for that young version of my sister as I remembered my own uncomfortable middle school years.

  I went through the whole notebook, looking for more letters, but there weren’t any; the rest of it was full of math problems, what looked like scrap paper where she’d worked out her answers, meticulous nonetheless. But I had a strong feeling that wasn’t the last letter, although I couldn’t imagine why she would’ve written them. Keeping a diary was one thing, but correspondence with a saint? That was considerably weirder, though it did seem like something Hannah might do.

  I sifted slowly through some of the other papers. There were several of those little Valentine’s Day cards your parents made you write out to everybody, a bookmark with sleeping cats on it and a bead shaped like a ball of yarn fastened to the end of a tassel, old Metra tickets from trips into the city, American Red Cross first aid and CPR certification cards, assorted movie tickets, and two pages torn from a “Psalm a Day” desk calendar. On the back of May 17, 1997, Psalm 4, there was another letter:

  Dear St. Catherine,

  Today I told Sister Ruth that I was thinking about becoming a nun. I thought she would be happy, but she got very quiet and said, “Why?” What I wanted to say was, “Why not?” but you don’t talk to a nun like that. Instead, I said, “Because I think it would be nice to live in a place where God was always present, and also I think I would probably make some friends.” Sister Ruth was quiet again for a few seconds, then she said, “That’s a very nice thought, Hannah, but you’re too young yet to make a decision like that. Maybe when you’re older, you’ll find that you have a vocation. Right now, though, you should concentrate on being a little girl.”

  I didn’t want her to think I was talking back, so I just nodded and finished arranging the books on the shelf before going to homeroom. If I could have said something, though, I would have said, “I don’t want to be a little girl anymore.”

  “Caro?” Mom poked her head in. “How’s it going out here?”

  “Fine,” I said, stuffing everything back into the shoe box and shoving it under the coffee table. I gestured to the rest of the containers. “These are Hannah’s, what do you want me to do with them?”

  “They can stay in the garage,” Mom said. “Hannah will go through them later.” Somehow, I doubted that.

  “Okay.” She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

  “Only two more hours till dinner,” she warned, shutting the door behind her.

  As soon as she was gone, I tucked the shoe box under my arm and rushed to my room, where I hid it under the bed and went back to the task at hand. I wanted to read more, but there would be time later. Reb was sure to have something fun planned for that night, and I didn’t want to miss out because I was still stuck cleaning my closet.

  Reb did indeed call me after dinner and invite me over to her house. She had asked Erin, too, as well as some other people. Her mom was out of town until Sunday night, visiting a sick relative over the border in Indiana, so she had the place to herself and wanted to take advantage of it. I got permission to go to Reb’s, but not to take the car, so Erin picked me up.

  “Did Reb tell you she invited Polish Boy?” Erin asked as I buckled my seat belt.

  “She did?”

  “Reb doesn’t … like him, does she?” Erin asked carefully.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said, although I wasn’t entirely sure. It wasn’t like Reb to creep all over someone else’s guy, though—but it was like Erin to stir drama up for no reason. “She knows—”

  “That you like him?” Erin waggled her eyebrows.

  I smiled. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “You’ve never hung out outside school, though,” Erin said. “This could be weird.”

  “Actually, we hung out after school on Thursday.” Okay, so it wasn’t the truth truth. But it was true enough. I seemed to be making that distinction a lot lately.

  “Really? Where?” Erin sounded incredulous.

  “The DMV,” I admitted. “He was getting his license. He’s official to drive in the state of Illinois.”

  “What were you doing at the DMV? You already have your license,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but the picture was lousy,” I said. “I went in there to retake it and there he was. We talked for about twenty minutes.”

  “Can you do that? Just retake your picture?”

  “Definitely,” I lied. You couldn’t do that. I think you’d be laughed out of the DMV if you even tried.

  “Hmm.” Erin shrugged, but she seemed to take me at my word. “I didn’t think your picture was that bad.”

  “That bad”? I thought it was great. I got dressed up and did my hair especially for the occasion; preparing for the DMV that day took hours. I wished Pawel could’ve seen me then. But I couldn’t say that, so I just grimaced. “It was awful.”

  “Anyway, so you guys hung out at the DMV. Romantic,” Erin teased.

  I stared out the window. “Indeed.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing. Some family stuff. His ex-girlfriend.”

  “Okay, now that is interesting,” Erin said, taking the next turn too sharply in her excitement. “Did he talk about her like he’s so in love with her he can’t shut up about it, or was he like, ‘Yeah, I used to date this one girl but she means nothing to me now’?”

  “More like option B. His exact words were, I think, ‘It wasn’t like we were soul mates or whatever.’ ”

  “Aw,” Erin cooed. “He believes in soul mates!”

  “He hasn’t entirely ruled it out,” I said, smiling. I still objected to the idea of soul mates, but I liked the way Pawel said things. He had a good sense of humor, and he seemed to take everything in stride. I couldn’t imagine him getting all caught up in some meaningless drama, like some people I knew. He was just fun. He liked to laugh and smile and joke around, and I thought maybe I needed a little lightening up. I certainly felt better about things when he was around.

  “How sweet,” Erin said.

  “You know how I feel about soul mates,” I reminded her.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Erin groaned. “You object.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Still. It’s cute.”

  Erin said nothing more, just grinned knowingly as we pulled into Reb’s already crowded driveway.

  12

  The party was already loud and crowded by the time Erin and I walked through the front door. Reb was flirting with a guy I’d never met before near the door to the downstairs powder room. She saw me as I walked toward her, and shouted, “Caro! Your boy is in the kitchen getting hit on by a very pretty cheerleader. Go assert your authori-tay.”

  “She’s drunk,” I whispered to Erin, who nodded. Reb only pulled out the Cartman voice when she was drunk.

  “Let’s go catch up,” Erin suggested, pulling me by the hand toward the kitchen.

  “I really wish she wouldn’t talk about Pawel that way,” I complained. “People could hear her and it could get back to him. I don’t want him thinking that I think he’s my boyfriend or whatever. We hardly know each other.”

  “Hopefully by the end of the night you’ll know him a little better,” Erin said, winking. I shook my head at her, but I couldn’t help laughing. It was as if she and Reb had joined forces to find me a new boyfriend. It was sweet, and strangely comforting. Usually, there was an uneasy tension between the two of them, a sort of competition. They were each closer to me than they were to each other, and sometimes they resented each other for it, but in this they were a team.

  “Caro!” Pawel called when we stepped into the kitchen. He was standing next to a cheerleader, just like Reb had said, but I didn’t know her name.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling. I nodded at his red Solo
cup. “What are you drinking?”

  “Some shitty beer,” he said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. I stared at his arm like I’d never seen one before. It was a casual, intimate gesture, one that filled me with warmth from head to toe. I had to remind myself that he was a little drunk, so it probably meant nothing. “Come on, I’ll show you where the keg is.”

  “Do you remember Erin?” I asked.

  Erin stuck out her hand and he shook it. “Hi again.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  “We’ve met before,” Erin pointed out, but he just shrugged and grinned.

  “Sorry. I’m bad with names. And faces. Too much pot,” he joked, although that was probably true. Then he sobered, like a cloud had passed over his face. “Just kidding, I don’t smoke pot.” Just as quickly, the cloud cleared. “You guys want some beer?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I think the cups are under the sink,” the cheerleader said, butting in. She put her hand on Pawel’s arm, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he leaned down and extracted two red cups from a lower cabinet.

  Pawel took my hand and dragged me out through the sliding glass doors into the backyard, where an unmarked keg was standing in the center of the deck. He let go of my hand, and I was surprised by how empty it felt without his. I looked back at Erin and she made a sad face for my benefit but turned that frown upside down when Pawel handed her a full cup of beer with almost no head.

  “You’re a pro,” she said, taking a sip.

  “Lots of practice,” he said, handing me the second cup and going to fill his own. When he was finished, he turned to me and knocked my cup with his. “Na zdrowie!”

  “Na—what?” I asked.

  “Na zdrowie,” Pawel repeated, pronouncing it nas-drov-yeh. “It’s kind of like Polish for ‘cheers.’ ”

  “Cheers,” I said, raising my cup a little and taking a long gulp. Pawel laughed.

  Erin lifted her cup and started chugging. When it came to consuming liquids, Erin was a first-class talent. I couldn’t drink too fast or I’d vomit, but Erin drank everything like she was a character in a Greek myth, cursed with an unquenchable thirst.

  “This is nasty,” Erin said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Nectar of the gods,” Pawel joked, kicking the keg softly with the toe of his sneaker.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Reb was trying to poison us all,” Erin said. I laughed. “I’m going to go see if Joe is here.”

  “He’s in the living room, DJing on the computer,” Pawel told her. “Or he was the last time I saw him.”

  “I thought you weren’t good with names,” Erin said, narrowing her eyes.

  “I’m not. I’ve known Joe forever—we were in the same traveling baseball league when we were kids,” Pawel said.

  “Oh! Well, that’s nice. I’m going to go find him,” she said, shooting me a meaningful look and then sauntering back into the house.

  “Godspeed,” Pawel said, lifting his cup at her retreating back. He put a hand on my shoulder. I played it cool, like there was nothing special at all about him touching me, but inside I was shaking. “I’m glad you’re here, Caro.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Reb’s parties are always fun.”

  “Yeah, she’s a good hostess,” Pawel said. “Plenty of booze, plenty of tunes, plenty of room.”

  “That was a beautiful poem,” I said.

  “I was hoping you’d like it. I composed it just for you.” We were looking into each other’s eyes, and as his voice trailed off into nothing, I was sure he was going to lean forward and kiss me, but someone called my name and we both looked to find Derek headed in our direction. I glanced back at Pawel and he rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly.

  “Hey, guys,” Derek said. “What’s going on? I just got here. Is that keg tapped yet?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Go for it.”

  “Cups?”

  “In the kitchen, under the sink,” Pawel told him.

  “Perfect.” I thought he would leave, but he lingered for a couple of moments. “So how are you guys? Did you come here together?”

  I shook my head. “I just got here, too. Dinner with the folks.”

  Derek mussed his hair up absently, and I had a brief flash of running my fingers through it, tugging at it a little as we were making out. That had been months earlier. I blinked to make the image go away.

  “Me too,” he said. “Well, it’s great to see you. Let’s talk later, okay?” I knew that he was probably directing that last question to both Pawel and me, but something about the way he looked directly at me gave me a different impression. He gave me a hasty one-armed hug and trotted off in search of a beer vessel.

  “He’ll be back in a second,” Pawel said quietly. “Let’s fill up and get out of here.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. Pawel topped off our beers at the keg, then took my hand again and led me around the side of the house.

  For a few minutes we just stood there, sipping our beers and trying to make each other out in the darkness. Then Pawel put his cup down on the brick walkway, took mine from my hand and did the same with it, and reached out to touch my face. I closed my eyes.

  “I really, really like you, Caro,” Pawel said. “I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

  “It’s not weird,” I whispered. He took a step forward and pressed himself lightly up against me. His breath smelled faintly of beer, but I didn’t care. Mine probably—definitely—did, too.

  “I mean, I’m sorry if it’s weird that I said that,” he clarified. “Not that it’s weird that I like you.”

  “I understand,” I assured him.

  “I’m sort of drunk,” he said.

  “I noticed,” I said.

  “But it doesn’t matter. Because I would still do this if I wasn’t,” he said.

  “Do what?” I asked.

  He touched his lips to mine tentatively. I returned the kiss with enthusiasm, putting a hand against the back of his head and draping my other arm over his shoulder. He reached around and placed both of his hands on the small of my back. We held tight to each other, pulling at each other’s lips, tongues gently touching. I felt dizzy and feather-light, like I was about to float away. It felt like there was an acrobat in my chest, jumping and sinking. I held him closer, gripping his T-shirt and pressing my chest against his.

  We might have stayed that way forever if we hadn’t heard footsteps coming down the walkway. We jumped apart and looked toward the backyard, where Joe and Erin were standing in the honey-gold light of one of the deck lamps.

  “Yo, Pav,” Joe cried out. “Flip cup tournament starts now. You in or you in?”

  “Caro, you’re on my team!” Erin called out.

  Pawel cleared his throat and glanced at me. I shrugged. “I’m in,” he said.

  “Me too,” I said. My voice was as wobbly as my knees. I must’ve sounded like I was going to cry, because when I reached Erin, she asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m perfect,” I told her. “Really, really great.”

  Flip cup is a dangerous game. I don’t mean that in a health class PSA sort of way. I mean it in a “been there, drank that, threw up on my shoes” sort of way. I didn’t get as drunk as I possibly could have, but by the end of the tournament we were all too wasted to do much of anything. It was close to two in the morning when we finally collapsed; nearly everybody else had gone home, and Joe was already asleep on the floor in the kitchen with a mixing bowl near his head in case of emergency.

  I was sitting upright on the couch, with Pawel slumped over in my lap, the back of his neck resting on my thigh, eyes closed. Erin was snoring on the other end, and Reb was sitting near my feet, her head against Pawel’s hip.

  “I’m drunk,” she moaned.

  “We’re all drunk,” I told her.

  Pawel’s eyes flew open. “I have to go home,” he said abruptly, struggling to sit up. I helped him, and he smiled at me, repeating, “I have
to go home.”

  “No, no,” Reb slurred. “Stay here. Plenty of beds. You and Caro can have my parents’ room.” I kicked her. “Ow!”

  “Tempting,” Pawel said with a yawn. “But I have to go home.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Mass at nine a.m.,” he said.

  “Oh. Okay, well then, how? You can’t drive, none of us can drive,” I pointed out. “Do you want me to call your parents?”

  “No way!” Pawel protested. “I’ll walk.”

  “You can’t walk.” Reb scoffed. “It’s miles! What about a cab?”

  A cab! Why hadn’t I thought of that? I’d never called a cab in the suburbs before, but it couldn’t be that hard. “Do you have any cash?” I asked Pawel.

  “No cash,” Pawel moaned.

  “Crap,” I said. “Neither do I.”

  I looked over at Reb, who dug around in the pockets of her jeans before pulling out a couple of crumpled one-dollar bills. She handed them to me with an exaggerated frown. “You can have these.”

  I smiled at her. “Thanks, Reb. But I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”

  “No cab?” Pawel asked. I shook my head.

  “Is anyone here sober?” I called out, hoping that someone we didn’t know was still there would emerge, keys in hand, ready to pass a Breathalyzer. No such luck, though. Anyone with common sense had left hours before. “Shit.”

  Erin snorted and woke up, grimacing. “Ugh. What happened?”