The Pick-Up

by Miranda Kenneally

  Tyler sips from his beer cup. “It’s okay. You’ll meet plenty of other ladies. It’ll be easier now that you have some experience.”

  I haven’t told Tyler a thing about what happened between Mari and me, but he just automatically assumes he knows. He always thinks he’s right. Thinks he knows what’s best. If I hadn’t listened to him, put myself out there, she wouldn’t have left.

  And now he’s trying to get me to move on to someone else, like it’s no big deal. To me, it is a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal.

  “Don’t you get it? I’m not you. I wouldn’t use a girl like that.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t use girls,” he spits. “It’s always mutual. I’d never hurt anyone.”

  “What about Krysti? She wants to date you, and you’re just stringing her along.”

  “That’s bullshit.” He whispers to me, “I’ve been straight with her the entire time about what I want. It’s her who keeps looking for something that’s not there.”

  “Doesn’t stop you.”

  Tyler gets to his feet, his chest to mine. It occurs to me then how much bigger he is. How much stronger. My initial instinct is to run and jump overboard, but I puff out my chest and confront him. This is important.

  “Teej, this is none of your business.”

  “You’re always up in mine. I don’t want to be like you.”

  For the first moment since we started this conversation, Tyler’s giving me his full attention. He stares at my face.

  “You’re always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do,” I say. “I never get to decide for myself.”

  “If you’d grow some damned balls already, I wouldn’t feel like I had to give you so much advice.”

  “I never asked you.”

  “That’s just it. You do. You ask me what to do all the time. You never figure anything out on your own, Teej. I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do. But you have to do something on your own. You’re not living.”

  “I’m living!”

  Mike is suddenly between us. “C’mon, guys. You’ve both had a bit to drink. Let’s relax.”

  Tyler pushes Mike out of the way. “Are you living, though?” he says to me.

  “You never know when to let up,” I snap. “Always telling me what to do so I don’t embarrass you.”

  “You don’t embarrass me. Don’t put this on me.” Tyler’s face is contorted with anger. Or is it pain? “I knew it was a mistake to invite you here.”

  “What?” My voice chokes.

  “I thought you were grown up. I thought you’d stopped acting all pathetic. I guess not.”

  I need to get off this boat. I turn around to find Krysti standing there, tears in her eyes. I feel terrible. She’s been nothing but nice to me, and I’m a complete dick.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “Thanks for having me. Uh, see ya.”

  With lots of people on other boats staring at me, I quickly climb off Krysti’s and quickly walk up the dock, looking for anywhere else to be but here.

  Mari

  “You need something to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I tell my stepsister, even as my stomach rumbles.

  “Yeah, nobody believes that,” Sierra says, making Megan giggle.

  Sierra and Megan are leading me along the lake path toward Dad’s apartment. Without the scooters, it’ll take a while to get there. We’re far away.

  But I don’t think I could ride a scooter again right now after walking away from T.J. My hands are shaking. I’m biting down on my lip. This stupid day is overwhelming.

  “Let’s at least stop to get some water and sit down for a few minutes,” Sierra says. “It’s too hot out. You’ll get sick.”

  We leave the path and go up to the Chicago Riverwalk, where Megan leads us to a cafe she likes that serves sandwiches, burgers, and salads. Now that I see the restaurant, I think I’d literally die for a Diet Coke with ice. Inside, people occupy a few tables, but it’s mostly empty: the lunch crowd is gone, back to the beach or shopping or Lollapalooza.

  A hostess shows us to a wooden table adorned with a small bouquet of wildflowers. As I slide into my chair, I’ve never been so happy for air-conditioning. It cools the sweat on my forehead. I touch my face with the backs of my hands; it stings. I have a sunburn.

  This isn’t what I figured I’d be doing today. When I imagined visiting Chicago for Lollapalooza, I pictured going out with Sierra and her friends and dancing to music with thousands of other people. Strangers.

  I didn’t imagine I’d meet someone who flipped me inside out.

  This whole thing with T.J.—he’s such a nice guy. And that feeling when we were lying in bed together? I loved it. It could be addictive. It’s like how I can’t play only one game of Tetris on my phone. One game ends, and my brain itches for another.

  But even if I did want more, it’s not like he and I have any chance of being together, not when we live so far apart. There was no reason to go down that road. I did the right thing.

  As I think about him and his cute, mischievous grinning face and how much I enjoyed simply being with him, a physical, tingling pain shoots through my arm and to my heart.

  I make my mind go black and drown the pain in darkness.

  While waiting on the server to come over and greet us, Megan checks her phone. “Sierra, Dad is buying White Sox tickets for next weekend and asked if you want to come.”

  Sierra makes a face. “I’ve told you before, there’s no way I’m going to a Sox game. Ever. It’s sacrilege.”

  Megan rolls her eyes. “The Cubs aren’t the only game in town.”

  “Yes, they are,” Sierra says. “The only way I’d go see a Sox game is if the Cubs were ripping them to shreds in the World Series.”

  Even though I’m not feeling my best, I can’t help but snicker at them acting like an old married couple.

  Once we’ve ordered drinks, Sierra touches my hand. “What happened?”

  Megan raps her knuckles on the wooden table. “Do I need to go back and kick some T.J. ass?”

  I shake my head. To change the subject, I open my menu and scan it. “What do you all want for lunch?”

  Sierra pushes my menu down. “Mari, what happened with T.J.?”

  I’m not sure if I’m ready to answer that. I’ve always enjoyed girl talk. Back home, Rachel and I tell each other everything, especially when it comes to guys. But I’m not sure if I’d tell even her about what T.J. and I did specifically. It’s the kind of personal thing you don’t even write in your journal—you never tell a soul because the emotions, the memories, are too raw.

  Luckily, I don’t have to answer Sierra’s question about T.J. because the server chooses that moment to place a glass of Diet Coke full of ice in front of me and passes out drinks to Sierra and Megan. “What can I get you to eat?”

  Sierra’s right; I need food. When I don’t eat, I become an uber crankypants. It’s so hot outside, though, it’s killing my appetite. Scanning the menu I choose a chilled watermelon gazpacho and a mixed salad. When the server leaves to put our order in, Sierra presses me again.

  “T.J. What happened with him?”

  I lean over onto the table, rubbing my face with my hands. “After we made out, he got all serious. Started talking about how he wanted to see me again.”

  “Yes!” Sierra says.

  Megan drums her hands on the table. “That’s good! I knew he really liked you.” She pulls her phone out of her bag, dismisses her Chicago White Sox screensaver, flicks to the first photo Sierra took of us, and holds it up to where we can all look at it. “I’m so jealous.”

  Megan staring at our picture reminds me of how just a little while ago, I was studying that photo of Lulu Wells and Alex Rouvelis. Something about their picture made me jealous too.

  I’ve never been int
erested in having someone that’s all mine. Now, suddenly, it’s on my mind. T.J. is right—sometimes it works out with a couple, but how do you know if it will? And that’s just it. You don’t.

  “I don’t like him like that,” I say, trying to play it off, so they’ll leave the subject alone. “Good hookup, though.”

  Megan looks from me to Sierra, and they gape at each other.

  Why does everything have to be such a big deal?

  I change the topic. “So, you guys liked those strawberry daiquiris? Did you see how Krysti made them? We’ll have to remember so we can do it ourselves. I mean, if we can get the rum somehow.”

  I look up to find Sierra sipping her Coke, watching me with wide eyes. She sets her drink down and sighs, looking defeated. I don’t see why she cares so much. My life isn’t hers.

  Megan sweeps her braids over a shoulder and leans across the table toward me. “You don’t like T.J.?”

  “Nope.”

  Lie.

  Yes, of course I like him, but I’ll have to get over it.

  Will I ever forget the look on his face when I left him behind on the boat? It was like Austin all over again. I hate that I hurt both Austin and T.J.

  I’m a movie villain.

  Megan focuses on our picture again. “Mari, look at you guys.” I wish she’d stop doing that. I should steal her phone and delete all the social media apps so she won’t do it again. “You wanted each other from the very beginning.”

  “I agree,” Sierra says, and gently touches my hand. “If you really don’t like him, that’s one thing, but I don’t want you to miss out on something because you’re so set against falling in love.”

  “You don’t get it,” I snap. “Your life is happy. Your mom got my dad, and my dad left us, and now I’m stuck living with a mom who yells all the time. If you had any idea, you’d stop pressuring me to do something I don’t want to do. People don’t have to be in relationships. It’s okay not to be in one. Now can you just drop it?”

  Avoiding my eyes, Megan picks up her water glass and hides behind it, taking long sips, covering her face.

  Sierra’s eyes are watering. She swipes a tear away. And now I feel like a total jerk for making the best person in my life cry.

  “I know I’m lucky,” Sierra says with a shaky voice. “And that I have a good life. It’s just that I want you to be happy too.”

  Sierra’s phone buzzes and the screen lights up. Mom calling. Mom calling.

  With another swipe at the tears in her eyes, Sierra storms off with her phone to talk outside. Meanwhile, the server drops off our plates. The sight of their burgers and fries makes me wish I had gotten comfort food. I need dessert ASAP. Not that I deserve it. Not after hurting Sierra.

  While she’s outside, Megan watches her through the window and ignores me. I don’t blame her. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.

  Sierra comes back into the café and slides into her chair.

  “I’m sorry for snapping,” I say quietly.

  Sierra arranges her napkin on her lap, not looking at me, and takes a long gulp of water. “Listen, Mari… Don’t get even madder, but Mom and David really want to see you, so they’re coming here.”

  “Nice, they can pay for our food,” Megan says. They bump fists and smile at each other.

  “Shit,” I mutter. “They’re totally gonna tell me off.”

  Sierra bites into a french fry. “It’s better here than at home. They’re not going to yell at you in public.”

  “With my luck today, it just might happen.”

  About ten minutes later, Dad and Leah arrive. She sails over in her red sundress and gives Sierra a kiss on the cheek and hugs Megan’s neck. Leah turns to me with a short smile, but doesn’t greet me like the other girls. Dad pats me on the back, seemingly unable to even look at me.

  I wince at Sierra, who won’t look at me now either.

  A server pulls another table up to ours so we can all sit together. Sun shines through the windows, but it feels dark in here.

  Leah studies my face. “You got some sun today, Mari. Are you burned?”

  “A little,” I say quietly. My skin—especially on the top of my head and upper back—is hot and sore. I forgot to reapply sunscreen after we went in the lake to clean the bird poop out of my hair.

  “Make sure to drink lots of water.” She pushes a glass toward me, and I take it gratefully and begin to drink. Yeah, I’m seventeen years old, but I like being taken care of and fussed over, especially when I feel so drained.

  Leah is looking around the restaurant. “Mari, where’s the boy you met? T.J.?”

  “With his brother, I think,” I say as calmly as possible, not wanting to give Dad the impression he was right, that I shouldn’t have run off with T.J. today.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Dad says to me, jerkily removing the silverware rolled up in his napkin. “Until Sierra found you, I was worried. I didn’t know where you went.”

  “Of course she’s okay,” Sierra replies. “It’s Chicago, not a war zone.”

  Dad gives her a look as he steals a fry off her plate. “Mari doesn’t know Chicago like you do. Because she never comes to visit. And when she finally does, she decides to run off with some strange boy and worry us all sick.”

  Dad is angry, but I can also hear the hurt buried deep in his voice. At the moment, though, it’s hard to care. I’m hot, sunburned, confused, and my heart hurts like hell.

  I bury my eyes in the heels of my hands. “If you ever bothered to visit me, or even ask how things are at home, you’d know I can’t visit you.”

  I hear gasps around the table, but I keep on ranting: “All you care about is your life and want me to fit into it, when there’s no way I can. Not that you and Leah understand. Everything’s perfect for you. But for y’all to be happy, I have to be miserable. Don’t you get that?”

  The waiter approaching the table takes one glance at me and turns around and vamooses. Leah’s rubbing the side of her neck, while Dad’s face is blazing red. Sierra wipes another tear away. Megan reaches out and takes Sierra’s hand.

  This trip was a mistake. A mistake on so many levels.

  I yank the napkin out of my lap, throw it on my plate, and rush across the restaurant toward the exit.

  “Is everything okay?” the server exclaims.

  “Gazpacho’s great!” My voice breaks as I’m pushing the glass door open.

  “Mari!” Dad calls out in an exasperated tone.

  Outside, a tear drops down my face. And then another. I bite my tongue to distract myself, to try to stop crying. Around the corner is a staircase leading down to the river. I go down a few steps, then decide to sit. I’ve always thought of myself as strong and in control, but today? I feel like I’ve lost everything.

  Seconds later, Sierra settles beside me, loops her arm around mine, and leans her head against my shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” she says, and I give her a nod, happy she’s with me, but embarrassed about my outburst all the same. A lot of people would write me off after I blew up like that.

  We sit like that until Dad appears on my other side, standing above me.

  “Sierra, can I talk to Mari for a few minutes?”

  Sierra squeezes my wrist. “Text if you need me and I’ll come back out here.”

  “Ladybug.” Dad slowly sits down next to me, folding his hands. “What did you mean in there? That you can’t come to visit?”

  I wring my fingers together, thinking about physics again. In another universe, maybe I’m sitting here on the steps enjoying a day out in Chicago with my dad. In that life, Dad is pointing across the river at the Chicago Tribune building, which I’ve always loved because the walls are decorated with rocks, like from Roman ruins and the Great Pyramid at Giza.

  In another universe, I’m still at home with Mom, too afraid t
o have visited in the first place. In a million other universes, different things are happening.

  But in my perfect universe, Dad never left, Mom didn’t lose the baby, and everyone’s happy, including me.

  “I can’t visit because it upsets Mom when I’m with you.”

  Dad gives me a weird look. “But you’re my daughter.”

  He’s clueless.

  “Mom isn’t happy, you know. I don’t think she’ll ever be happy again.”

  Dad rubs the top of his head. “I know she’s unhappy. And I wish I could help, but only your mom can figure out what makes her happy. I tried, Ladybug. I tried so hard to help.”

  Did he really though? He never encouraged her to try therapy. Never did anything. He shut down. “You left me.”

  “I never left left you,” Dad says. “I called you every night.”

  “You stopped calling—”

  “Because you hardly ever picked up,” Dad snaps. “Do you know how bad that hurt? After a while, I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand not talking to you.”

  I stopped answering because Mom got angry when I talked to him. Plus, there was nothing he could say to make things better at home. What was the point?

  “I hurt, too,” I say.

  “Let me help now,” Dad insists. “Come visit more often. Let’s figure things out.”

  “You never came back, Dad. All you cared about was me coming to visit you here.”

  “It seemed like you didn’t want to come.”

  “Of course I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Even coming this weekend is too much for Mom. She’s going to be pissed when I go home.”

  Dad touches my shoulder. “I’m sorry she’ll be upset. She’ll get over it though.”

  He doesn’t get it. But telling him more would mean betraying Mom. It might get her in trouble. I can’t tell him about Mom’s mood swings. How she screams at me all the time. How she yanked my ponytail so hard I thought I’d lose my hair.

  Dad goes on, “You’re my daughter. Home is with me, not just your mom.”

  This is it. The opening I was looking for. “Next year, I’m thinking of going to college here.”