My Stupid Girl

by Smith, Aurora

  "He did?" Lucy looked as puzzled as I felt.

  "He told me he wanted to try to get him back, and wanted him to stay in Kalispell." Grandma stopped. Her face was full of irritation and maybe anger. And probably some sadness. It was an unexpected mix. "Before my daughter died, he was a pretty nice guy. He was grumpy, but nice, and honest. Julia loved him and he treated her like a queen. That was enough for me. But he hasn't been the same since he lost her. I had all that clouding my mind I guess, thinking that whatever he did to David was a mistake made by a basically good man. So I did what he asked of me."

  My grandmother sighed. I wanted to hug her.

  "He sounds like he really loved her." Lucy’s voice sounded far away.

  "He did,” my grandma said simply, "but I should have gone with my instincts and fought for David."

  My grandma had deep pain in her eyes. Lucy reached out her hand and put it on top the old gnarled one sitting on the counter. Grandma looked up at Lucy with thankfulness.

  "He turned out pretty amazing." Lucy gave my grandma a smile and her hand a squeeze.

  "He is amazing, isn't he? I wish he could see it." She looked gratefully at Lucy.

  I forgot I was being quiet. I put my head against the wall, feeling frustrated at missing a strange sense of belonging. But, like the nerd I am, I was overzealous and whacked my forehead. Dang. Both women stopped talking and turned toward me, so I emerged from my shadows, aware that my carefully put-together face had a giant red spot on the forehead. A neon sign of my nerdiness, if you will.

  "Hey," I said, strolling into the kitchen with my hands in my pockets.

  "Hi hon, how are you feeling?" My grandma got up and put her hand on my forehead.

  "A lot better actually; I haven't been sick in a few hours." I tried to talk with a hand on my face. I peeked over at Lucy and her eyes were focused on the table.

  "You sit down, I’ll make you something. How do eggs and toast sound?"

  "Sounds good," I said, not looking at her. I was still watching Lucy, whose face was now inspecting her hands. I walked over to the table and sat to her right.

  "Hey." I was suddenly afraid that she thought I looked like a freak. But her head came up and I could see she was blushing.

  "Hey. I'm glad you’re feeling better…" Her eyes quickly scanned over my face. Her gaze lingered around my arms. Then she looked down at her coffee, spinning it slowly, which instantly drove me bonkers. I couldn’t handle it moving around, out of its area on the counter. When she started moving it from side to side I put my hand over one of hers, stilling the motion. She gave me a look but didn’t move the cup again. I instantly felt relief. We sat in silence while my grandma fried the eggs. I wasn't used to Lucy not talking and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

  "You ok?" I asked.

  "I'm good." Lucy looked up into my eyes and smiled kindly. I smiled back at her. To my surprise, she bit her lip and looked down again. It almost looked like she was embarrassed about something. My grandma put some scrambled eggs and toast in front of me and I realized I was going to have to eat in front of both of them.

  “Would you like some, honey?” my grandma asked Lucy.

  "Please." Lucy’s voice had a formal, polite tone. It was so unlike her to use a few words where she could use hundreds. I wanted her to talk my ear off like she usually did. My grandma handed Lucy a plate with eggs and toast and came over to kiss the top of my head. I slightly shied away before I caught myself and straightened back up and let her. Grandma earned all the kisses she wanted to plant on my head.

  "Good night, you two. Lucy, if you’re too tired to drive, David will make a bed for you on the couch. Okay?” She had a stern "be good" look on her face for a second, then she messed up my hair a little, which sent me into a hair patting frenzy.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Hall." I saw Lucy’s mischievous smile switch on, which made me feel a little better. My grandma walked out of the room and left the two of us in her small yellow kitchen.

  "Sorry," I said, wanting to start some kind of conversation.

  "For what?" Lucy murmured, her mouth full of eggs.

  "Getting sick," I answered miserably.

  "Oh hush, you couldn't help it. From what I heard, you got off easy. Some people were hospitalized for dehydration. Good thing I was here to take care of you. Gatorade to the rescue.” The mischievous smile stayed on her face.

  "I'm lucky you were here, huh?"

  "I imagine you would have been flat out on the tile for hours and hours, not drinking anything, puking and puking. Then your grandma would have had to drive you to the hospital in the middle of the night and they would have put needles in you. Then there would have been ten people fussing over you instead of just us two." She stuck her tongue at me, obviously remembering how she forced me to drink something. And how poorly I had reacted to the hospital the last time we’d been there together.

  "Good point, those are way better numbers." I chanced a full look up at her. She was staring at me with a look I’d never seen before, a look that was reserved.

  "David, you don't look like you have been sick today." She put her face down again, her ears getting red. I opened my mouth to respond but could think of nothing. I wondered if this was, like, a compliment. I shrugged my shoulders.

  "It's after four!" she pointed at the clock on the microwave. My shoulders went down in disappointment.

  "You have to leave?" I couldn't help but feel sad. She beamed at me.

  "I don't have to, I can stay. I should leave at Seven-forty five though, because church starts at nine. Hey! You should come!" She looked up at me hopefully, shoving her plate away a little, out of its spot. I snatched it up instantly, walking it to the sink.

  "That’s not going to happen," I said determinedly.

  "You should come," she said it in the same tone and with the same excitement as before, like she hadn't just asked me and I hadn't just said no.

  "Um, no." I tried again. Her eyes got big and her lips got pouty, her eyebrows went up, and she cocked her head to one side. This was not fair.

  "David, I want you to come to church with me, please?"

  How did she do that? I would have tried to find Atlantis for her if she asked. My response was a miserable groan and she took that to mean yes. Which it did.

  "Yeah, so I'm staying here and we can drive together." She looked very happy with herself.

  "I'm going to make a bed for you on the couch," I said miserably. I moved from the sink to the linen closet in the hallway. I pulled out some sheets. I walked into the living room to lay the sheets on the couch, folding the corners and tucking them in tight so she would be comfortable. I took the blanket that was on the recliner and spread it on top of the sheets, smoothing it until no wrinkles appeared anywhere on the surface. I went back to the closet and realized I didn't know where a spare pillow might be. I ran into my room and grabbed my pillow from my bed, stuffing it into a new cover and plopping it at the head of the couch to complete the makeshift bed. After every corner was squared and all wrinkles were abolished, I looked up and saw her standing at the end of the hallway watching me. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

  "I hope this is ok?" I pulled the covers back at a perfect 45 degree angle, to present her bed to her.

  "It’s wonderful; thank you, David." She walked over to me with a look of mixed resolutions on her face. The way her eyes sparkled made me put my hands in my pockets and look at anything but her face. She stopped in front of me and slid her arms thru the hole that my elbows made against my side. She put her head on my chest and hugged me.

  It took a second for my brain to even figure out what was going on, but before it really registered, my hands came out of my pockets and wrapped around her. Surprisingly, I didn't feel nervous. It felt natural and like I was finally doing what I had been longing to do since Friday night when I had almost kissed her on top of a lighthouse. Before a crazy old man totally ruined the moment. No old man here, though.

  I
put my lips on the top of her head. Her hair smelled amazing, like flowers and fruity hair spray.

  "David?"

  "Yes..." my heart was thumping.

  "If you were a cartoon character and looked the same every day, I would want you to look just like this." She buried her face deep into my chest.

  "Yeah?" I said it like a question but it was more like a shocked statement.

  "Just like this." She repeated. Hadn’t misunderstood, then. Definitely having a conversation about cartoon doppelgangers.

  "Why?" I asked, feeling brave.

  "I like the way you look, David." She replied so quietly I had to strain to hear her. I shook my head and hugged her tighter. She continued talking into my shirt, "Come on, you know you’re gorgeous." I stood there, with my stomach on fire and feeling like it was somewhere up in my throat. I took my fingers and gently pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. I bent my face down and whispered into those strands.

  "Are you talking about me or about yourself?" I could feel her mouth go up in a smile against my body.

  "Definitely you." She came up for air and looked into my eyes. I didn't mind that my gaze was being held prisoner this time, but she let it free too soon. She looked over at the couch and then back at me.

  "Come on, you should get some sleep. I think you’re going delusional." I steered her body over to the couch and sat her down. I got down on my knees and took off her shoes. Her feet were hot, like they'd been in winter boots for too long. I bent her knees and put them under the blankets. She lay her head down on my pillow and instantly her eyes got droopy. I tucked the blankets in around her.

  "What time do you want me to get you up?" I asked her, still on my knees, at eye level in front of her.

  "Seven," she whispered.

  "Okay." I bent down and kissed her forehead. Her eyes were already closing. I brushed a few strands from her face.

  "Good night," she murmured, barely audibly.

  I felt compelled to do something, something that made me happy, something that used to bring me a lot of joy. Watching her laying there with her mouth half open, sleeping so soundly was more than I could take. I went to my room and opened my closet to get some boxes the police had brought over when they moved me. I knew where everything was. That kind of stuff was an extension of the coffee cup thing, an obsessive control issue I had. I moved the top two boxes down and pulled out the third. After putting the other two back in a neat stack I sat down and opened my box.

  Inside was a collection of art supplies. I moved the acrylic paint and drawing pencils to the side and pulled out my black chalk and sketch pad. My perfectly clean hands were clutching the pad and I instantly recalled a time when they were always stained brown from drawing. My bones ached to open the pad of thick sketch paper and re-discover older days, re-stain my hands. Instead of starting right in on a new sketch, though, I began flipping through the book. It used to be so familiar to me but lately I’d almost forgotten about it. Seeing the different pages was like rediscovering old friends.

  A few pages in I stopped flipping, noticing a sloppy picture of a smile I don't remember seeing in real life but knew by heart from photographs. The lines went up where Julia’s lips met and her big teeth blared off the page, brilliantly. There were smile lines next to the mouth, one of the only pieces completely drawn onto the page. I liked to draw broken up pictures. I saw things that way when I walked around. I saw the features on people that stood out on them, that made them who they were. On Lucy it was big lips, long eye lashes and freckles. My fingers itched to pick up the chalk and put life on an empty page. The rest of the review could wait.

  I walked back into the dark living room where Lucy was sleeping. I turned on the hall light and sat against the wall that was facing her. The blank page in front of me was like being reunited with somebody after a long absence, and maybe a fight. It felt right, and good, and like a relief. I glanced up at Lucy. She was sleeping on her right side with her arm under her face. Her arm reached over her head, so her hands were resting limply on her face. I started drawing her long full fingers in beautiful curves with the single eye that the fingers were trying to hide. I soon realized that her eyes were giving me trouble because they were so big. Her long lashes were exaggerated on the paper. I flipped to a clean page and drew another picture of Lucy’s lips.

  I didn't have to look at her to draw it accurately. I had sketched her mouth into my mind like a tattoo. I couldn't scrub it off; it was painful but worth it. The top lip was considerably bigger than the bottom and her two front teeth were bigger than they should be and one went down a fraction more than the other. None of this stuff was anything I would have noticed unless I hadn’t spent time contemplating those lips. I drew a nose, dirty with freckles, and then lightly sprinkled pink cheeks. When I was finished with the first sketch of sleeping Lucy, I continued to draw for hours, picking out different things that stuck out to me.

  My favorite picture, the one I spent the most time on, was an old, bony, wrinkled hand holding a cup of coffee with a younger longer hand on top of it.

  I couldn't deny that a part of my heart had fallen in love with Lucy when I saw her reach out to comfort my grandma like she had. I could feel my heart changing its ideas about life, my mind conforming to beliefs and ideas I had never considered. I could feel my body growing more comfortable around her, like when she reached out to touch my hair or my hand I didn't feel nervous. I realized I was becoming like a feral cat who is slowly being won over by a sweet old woman who leaves milk out for it daily.

  That stupid little girl who goes too far out on frozen lakes was winning my heart. The girl who drove up to give someone their car back but had no way of getting home was becoming a part of me. That loud, obnoxious laugh was ringing in my ears and I longed to be the one that drew it out of her. I was falling hopelessly in love with Lucy and that realization caused a mixture of excitement and panic. Excitement because I had never imagined I would ever feel this way, and panic because it was completely out of my control and I hated that. I hated it but I was willing to lose it, lose the control over what I pretended I had control over. I realized in that moment that it was a crazy thing to try to fight this, so I decided to go with it. I went with every feeling that was flooding me and dripping from me. This gorgeous, stupid girl had done in a few days what no one had been able to do in years. I was totally relaxed, completely happy, and content.

  That is, I was all those things until I glanced at the clock and realized that in an hour and a half I would be walking into a church with Lucy and, probably, to my great disgust, Mike. I was crazy for thinking this would work. In a few hours all her friends would be telling her she was crazy for bringing me and she would be advised to never see me again, I was sure of it. They’d probably be saying it right in front of me. My sketch pad closed with a snap and I was suddenly angry with my dirty fingers for betraying me. I walked back to my room and put all of my things away neatly, the way I liked them. In the sparkling bathroom I washed my fingers clean and re-applied my make up before I went and woke Lucy up so we could leave to go to her church. Joy.

  8. RACHEL

  Lucy was bouncing up and down like a hyperactive six-year-old as her church came into sight. Considering she was the one driving, the bouncing was impressive. We mingled in with a long line of cars creeping toward the sprawling parking lot. The more of the giant compound and lot that I saw, the lower I shrunk in my seat. Lucy reached over and put her hand on mine. It comforted me for a second, then I realized how obviously pathetic I was being. I looked over at her and gave her an obvious fake smile with two cheesy thumbs up. She fake smiled back. Not even that cheered me up. I decided to wallow in pathetic.

  "Don’t leave me alone anywhere," I tried to be stern but it totally came out like a plea.

  "I won't," she replied, sincerely. I nodded at her, in thanks and then resumed looking out the window and feeling out of control.

  "What are you worried about?"

  "One, I�
��ve never been to a church before. And two, everyone here looks the same." I pointed to the family walking past the car, with three perfect little children who were dressed to impress. In identical outfits. Even the parents had matching colors. Dad’s tie and Mom’s skirt were grown-up versions of the kid’s bluish church uniforms.

  "So? All your friends look the same." She sounded irritated.

  "Touché." I climbed out of the car and immediately planted my hands in my pockets, where they felt at home.

  "These are nice people," she whispered in my ear after I’d walked around the car and looped her arm in mine. I grunted in response. We walked about six miles to the main door. During our epic trek across the asphalt tundra, Lucy said “hi” to every single person we saw. I couldn't raise my face to look at any of them. I was contemplating the actual start time of church. We had left the house around eight, and it had taken a while to get here, and then another chunk of time to park. Now an hour or two of hellos as we were making a pilgrimage toward the distant church. At this rate, the service should start sometime around Tuesday afternoon. Can. Not. Wait.

  “David, please stop looking at the ground, you look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

  “I am about to have a panic attack.”

  “Listen, stop over-thinking this and just look at people. You’re making it worse for yourself by avoiding everything. You’re assuming these people don’t like you and you haven’t even taken the time to look at them. So… you’re being the judgmental one right now.” She squeezed my arm again as she said this. I’m not going to lie, the arm squeeze took some of the sting out of her words. Not all, but some. Stupid girl. Calling me out on my issues.

  In retaliation I nodded at every person that she greeted from then on. (That’ll show her.) They actually weren’t looking at me the way I had expected. They definitely did double takes, but they still smiled at me. Apparently, church people were harder to scare than high school administrators.