Zomburbia

by Adam Gallardo

  I considered backing out of the kitchen quietly and hiding in my room until all of this resolved itself. My dad looked up just then, and a huge smile broke out across his face.

  “Hey, Pumpkin,” he said. “Come on in here. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Pumpkin? Really?

  I took a tentative step into the kitchen and pretended to see her for the first time. Oh, my, is there someone else in here with you? The smile on my face hurt the corners of my mouth.

  “This is Bev,” my dad said. “Beverly.”

  She stood up and rearranged the robe around herself. She barely got that thing around her rack and her hips. The wave of sexual energy coming off of this woman nearly knocked me back. She was a five-and-a-half-foot sexual dynamo, and she had obviously spent the night with my dad. What little sense there had been in my world quickly drained away.

  “You must be Courtney,” she said in a deep voice. She smiled again, and it dazzled me for a moment. I smiled and nodded. “Your father has told me so much about you.” Really, when?

  “Come in here and sit down,” she said. Being invited to sit at my own kitchen table felt odd. She sat down, too. She sat there looking at me for a long time. It made me nervous as hell, and I was about to say the first thing that came into my head just to break the tension when she finally did it for me.

  “You know, you sure are a pretty girl,” she said, “but you’d be a whole lot prettier without all that eye makeup.”

  I felt my cheeks grow hot. I’m sure she couldn’t see me blush through all that makeup. My dad just chuckled and flipped over some bacon. Obviously I’d get no support from him.

  “I tell her the same thing all the time,” he said.

  “Well,” I said, louder than I’d meant, but not as loud as the scream that had been welling up inside of me, “how did you two meet?”

  Dad chuckled again. I really wished he’d stop. “Now that’s sort of a funny story.”

  “We met at the college,” Bev said. Community college, I corrected her in my head.

  “So you teach out there, too?” I asked.

  “No, no,” my dad said, “Bev is a security guard out there.”

  I looked at her again. I tried to picture her body encased in one of the pseudo-police uniforms the guards out at the community college wear. I could totally see why my dad was acting like a goofy kid. My mind flashed on the handcuffs the guards wear, and I shuddered.

  “Well, last night after I was done correcting some papers, I walked out to my car,” my dad said as he dished up plates of eggs and bacon. “I was parked in the South lot.”

  “It’s so dark back there,” Bev broke in. She said it for me, even if she never took her eyes off Dad.

  “Right,” he agreed, “it’s really dark. Anyway, I’m trying to juggle my papers and my bag and get my car keys out of my pocket.”

  “But that’s not important,” Bev said, and I flashed her a narrow-eyed glare. Which she didn’t see.

  Dad sat down, and I thought for a terrifying second that he was going to sit in Bev’s lap. Trauma was averted, however, and he just sat very close to her.

  “I’m just trying to set the mood, honey.” Honey? “I drop my keys and while I’m bending down to pick them up, I notice someone walking toward me. Now, I thought it was one of my students who wanted to talk to me.”

  “They must be all over you, Fred.” Bev stroked his arm as she said this. All I could do was smile and nod. Most of Dad’s students can barely make it through his lectures. None of them is going to seek him out after hours to have him expound even more on the brilliance of the Skinner box. I could already guess who, or what, had been walking up to him.

  “My God, Dad,” I said, “are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, and waved his hand like he was swatting a bug, like my concern for him didn’t matter. “But that’s only because of Bev here.” And he beamed at her.

  He turned away and started serving up the breakfast.

  She turned toward me for the first time since this conversation started, and her eyes were wide with excitement. Her teeth flashed as she talked, and I feared I’d become hypnotized.

  “It was the luckiest thing,” she said, her husky voice even more breathless than usual. “I was driving the cart to the physical plant, and I thought I heard someone screaming.” Dad blushed, though he still looked adoringly at Lady Serpico.

  “It was pretty damned scary,” he confided in me.

  “Well,” Bev went on, “I wheeled that sucker around, shot up the path to the South lot, and there’s your dad, running away from that danged bloodsucker.”

  “Bloodsucker?” I asked. “Aren’t those vampires?”

  She went on like she didn’t hear. “Your dad is lucky that it was me and not someone like Karl Maynard shooting at that thing. They’d have like to blown his head off before they ever got to the zombie.” They shared a laugh over that and, excuse me, I couldn’t see the humor in my dad potentially dying.

  “I took your dad back to the office to calm down a little,” Bev went on, “and we got to talking.”

  “Talking led to dinner . . .” Dad said, “and dinner led here.” He looked at me sheepishly as he set a plate in front of me. For drama’s sake, I wish I could have refused to eat. The truth was I was hungry as hell, so I started to eat the eggs and bacon. I’m not sure why Dad was acting all shy around me. I’d been telling him for a couple of years to go out and find a woman. Now that he’d done it, he should take that at face value—even if I was having a hard time doing the same thing.

  I wolfed down my food as fast as I could and told them I had homework to do. I got up, rinsed off my plate, and hurried out of the kitchen. Not before I saw my dad and Bev kissing, though. Ugh.

  Both Elsa and Brandon had e-mailed me their pieces of the fence article, so I worked on that for a while. Afterward, I tackled some pretty atrocious Organic Chemistry. There was a knock on my bedroom door. Dad poked his head in.

  “Hey, Courtney, mind if I come in?”

  “Sure?” I said. It came out a question.

  He took his time and looked around the room as he walked over to sit on the bed. He told me more than once that he only came in when I was there and had given him permission. The way he gawked at everything like a tourist made me believe him. The bed creaked underneath him. I swiveled my chair around. After a second, he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. He had on his serious dad face.

  “I, um, just wanted to come in and check with you about Bev,” he said. “To see if you’re okay with her being here.”

  “Well, it’s a little late to ask me now, isn’t it?” I asked, and I hated myself for saying it. It just freaked me out to find Ilsa of the SS in my kitchen first thing in the morning.

  “Oh, I see,” Dad said, and he sat back on the bed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m sorry it upset you.”

  “How would you feel if you walked into the kitchen first thing in the morning and there was a boy sitting there in nothing but my robe?”

  “First, eleven isn’t first thing in the morning,” he said, and when I opened my mouth to say that wasn’t the point, he raised his hand to stop me. “But I get what you’re saying. There are differences, of course. I’m an adult and can have . . .” Please don’t say lovers, please don’t say lovers! “. . . partners if I want.

  “However, you live here with me and I need to respect that. I should have told you I was going to have a guest over last night,” he said.

  “A guest?” I asked. “Is that what it’s called these days?”

  “Please stop being snarky, Courtney,” he said. “I know you’re upset, but walling yourself off with sarcasm isn’t the answer.”

  I just looked at him. He knows I hate it when he starts using his jargon mumbo jumbo on me. He sighed and hung his head for a second and then looked up at me.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’d really like you to give Beverly a chance. We’re going in to town to catch a movie, ma
ybe some gelato. You should come with us.”

  “Sorry,” I said in a voice calculated to let him know I wasn’t. “I already made plans with some friends today.”

  His frown deepened. It did really unattractive things to the lines on either side of his mouth. That made me happy.

  “It’s not Sherri and Willie,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said, brighter, “who is it?”

  “You don’t know him,” I said. Then, before he could ask, I said, “His name is Brandon Ikaros. He’s in my Journalism class. Crystal Beals and some others will be there, too.”

  “I remember Crystal,” he said. “I haven’t seen her around here in a while.”

  Not since sixth grade when she figured out how uncool I was.

  “And what are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Hanging out was mentioned.”

  Dad stood up and thrust his hands in his pockets. Having me admit to hanging out with anyone other than the reprobate twins was tantamount to a victory, and he needed to get out before anything happened to mess it up.

  “Okay, please don’t be too late,” he told me. “And I want you to think about getting to know Beverly. I really do think you’d like her.” He headed toward the door.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. “’Bye.”

  “I love you,” Dad said as he closed the door.

  “’Bye,” I yelled after him. He could be so needy sometimes. I thought that having a new sex toy running around the house would mean I could escape any displays of emotion whatsoever.

  I kept working on my paper while I heard Dad and Bev getting ready to go. I put on my headphones when I realized that no matter what room Bev was in, her voice cut through the house and it sounded like she was standing next to me having a very loud conversation.

  I finally saw my dad’s Volvo back out of the driveway and putter down the street. I was safe. I finished up the chem homework, then I set about waiting for Brandon to show up for our journey into class differential.

  I found myself constantly checking my phone while I waited. Was Sherri going to call me? If she wasn’t mad at me, she’d at least call to give me a hard time for not sticking around to help her clean up last night. I even went on to Gmail and Facebook to see if she was logged on. She was maintaining strict radio silence, apparently.

  Fine. Let her sulk. I really didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong. As if she’d never told someone I didn’t like about a party. Hell, it was because of her that I had to invite Lori Caldwell to my birthday party two years ago. That was way worse than telling Brandon about her stupid get-together last night.

  I finally worked myself up enough that I decided Sherri could go screw herself. She was totally wrong about this whole situation. I grabbed my phone and thumbed the power button. Let her try to get a hold of me now. I hoped she called all day needing to talk to me. I fantasized about her trying to call to apologize and not reaching me. I hoped she’d wallow in guilt for being such a bitch to me. I’d talk to her when I was damned good and ready.

  I threw my phone into my bag and got up as I heard the sound of an engine rumbling up to the front of the house. I parted the curtains and looked out into the street. The truck came to a stop right in front of our gate, and Brandon hopped out. Two people sat in the back of the king cab. I couldn’t tell who they were. Brandon opened the gate and entered the yard. I took that as my cue to grab my bag, check my makeup one last time, and scoot toward the door. I opened it just as the bell ding-donged.

  The look of shock on his face made me burst out laughing. He was only confused for a second before he laughed, too. “Have you been standing there all day?” he asked.

  “Only since noon,” I said, and then laughed again as he tried to figure out whether or not I was serious. “I saw you pull up and grabbed my stuff and came out to meet you.”

  “Gotcha,” he said. “So, I guess you’re ready?” He looked me up and down. He was subtle about it, but I could tell.

  A million thoughts raced through my brain. Was he silently judging me? I mean, I know he was, but was the verdict negative? Should I have toned it down for a first date? Christ, was this a date? We’d never actually used that word. “Date.” I worried I might start hyperventilating if I didn’t get the situation under control. I needed to say something to zero in on how he felt about my ensemble. Something subtle.

  “Is how I’m dressed okay?” Goddammit!

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “I was just asking.”

  I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I checked to make sure I had my house keys and closed the door. He just grinned at me for a moment.

  “Okay,” he said, “let’s get back to the truck. The others’ll be wondering what’s taking so long.”

  Suddenly it felt like there was a hot rock in my stomach. In all of our rom-com banter, I forgot others were involved in this scenario. Other people who probably weren’t as nice or cool as Brandon seemed. As we walked toward the gate I started wondering again what the hell I was doing. Why was I dressed like this? I should have dressed more normal, or put on less makeup. Why was I even thinking things like this? What did I care what anyone thought about me? God, I felt like I was going crazy. I should probably just go back to the house and go to bed until this case of hormonal insanity passed.

  Then Brandon opened the gate for me and it was too late. He also opened the door to the truck and gave me a hand up. He closed it and went around to the other side.

  “Hi, Courtney,” said a voice from the backseat. Crystal Beals sat back there looking cute. She was a tiny brunette girl with long hair and sharp features. She always reminded me of the elves in Lord of the Rings. I told her that once when we were in sixth grade and it made her so happy. I called her elf girl all the rest of that year. I’d probably still call her that if we were still friends. She wore an orange T-shirt and tan capri pants. She looked good. Summery.

  “Hi, Crystal,” I said, “how are you?”

  “I’ve been really good?” she said. She had a habit of making most her sentences sound like questions. “I’m gearing up to take the SATs next month?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I took them a couple of months ago. I haven’t got my scores yet.”

  The driver’s side door opened and Brandon hopped in. He closed the door and turned to look at all of us.

  “You guys know each other?” he asked.

  “Me and Crystal go way back,” I said.

  “We used to play together all the time,” she agreed.

  “Nice, well, this is Ken Leung,” Brandon said, and tilted his head toward the guy sitting next to Crystal. He hadn’t said anything to me, and I couldn’t even tell if he was looking at me because his eyes were hidden behind huge aviator glasses. His short black hair was gelled so it stood straight up, and he wore a baby blue polo shirt with a popped collar. Everything about him screamed, “Douche!”

  I nodded at him.

  “Yeah,” he said, “hi.”

  I turned back around. “So what are we doing?”

  Brandon gave the truck some gas and steered it into the street. “My dad has a cabin out on Silver Creek Reservoir, so I thought we’d go hang out there,” he said. “We can swim, there’s a grill out there, and my dad stocks the fridge with beer.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Ken said even though he hadn’t actually been talking about it.

  “Swimming is great?” Crystal said.

  I knew I wasn’t dressed for it and hadn’t brought a suit. Why the hell didn’t Brandon mention it so I could prepare? I had a feeling this is how the whole day was going to go—one small annoyance after another. I forced a smile, however, because I like to maintain a sunny disposition.

  “Yeah,” I said, “let’s do it.”

  Brandon gave an honest-to-God whoop and stepped on the gas. “Yes,” he said, “this is going to be fun.”

  And as we headed out on our little adventure, I just hoped he was right.

  CHAPTER NINE<
br />
  Not a Great First Date

  I had to admit that the drive out to the reservoir was a pretty nice one. You drove out on Highway 22 through a town called Aumsville and then to the reservoir. Along the way, farmland lined the old highway. My dad said it was nicer before all the pieces of land were surrounded by barbed wire and electric fences. I can only take his word for it.

  As we drove, Ken and Brandon kept up a steady conversation about the football team—who would make first string next year (they were both certain they would); what sorts of punishing exercises their coaches devise; what would the schedule of games be, et-kill-me-cetera.

  Crystal tried to start a conversation with me, but we couldn’t really talk over the two knuckleheads. When they weren’t talking, Brandon focused straight ahead. Which is probably what he should have done since he was driving. He was also quiet and licked his lips a lot. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was nervous.

  I was content to sit back and watch the scenery. Lots of rolling hills and rows of one kind of plants or another. I don’t know. I heard they grow a lot of grapes for wine out here. Maybe if wine didn’t taste like ass, I’d have cared more about it. Really, I might have been able to see myself living out there one day. You know, when I’m old and boring.

  The farmland became more and more sparse and was replaced by lots of trees—spruce and pine and, here and there, a cedar. The air coming in through my cracked-open window felt noticeably cooler. I started to think that it might be too cold to actually go swimming. For now, it felt good, refreshing. The road narrowed and Brandon dropped our speed because it also became rougher.

  The barbed-wire fences were replaced with some split-rail ones. You could see the occasional side road disappearing up into the woods, each one with a gate of some kind across the road. Brandon eventually pulled into one of these and stopped, letting the engine idle. The gate across the entrance to the property had a heavy chain locking it closed. Brandon turned and handed a set of keys to Ken in the backseat.