My Stupid Girl

by Smith, Aurora

  She spoke quickly, concisely, and without hesitation. It kind of knocked the breath out of me. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t figure out what to do next. I couldn’t figure out how to get my brain to make the jump.

  “David, tell me what happened. Maybe I can help you work through it.”

  My grandma is a mind-reader, have I mentioned?

  She looked at me hopefully as I unfolded my arms from across my chest, freeing my hands, and patted my hair down. I took a long moment to digest everything. Grandma had never done anything to me in my whole life to make me question her motives or the way she felt about me. If there was one person on the entire earth I could depend on to have my best interests at heart, it was this wonderful lady sitting next to me.

  I took a deep breath and told her the whole truth. The whole story spilled out, from the moment Lucy and I had left the house that night to the many hours later when I’d returned alone. Grandma listened intently and didn’t look surprised or upset when I told her that I was upset because Lucy had been flirting with everyone. When I came to the part about Rachel, how at first I was going to fight her off but decided to kiss her because I was mad at Lucy, Grandma’s lips went down a little. I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment, but it made me feel worse. I practically tripped over the last bit in my eagerness to be done. I ended with how Lucy had walked away, basically saying she never wanted to see me again. I left out the blowing smoke in her face part, and ended with, “and that’s why she hates me now.” My head had sunk low, to avoid Grandma’s piercing gaze, so the last few words were kind of mumbled into my chin.

  To my great surprise my grandma patted me on the knee. As I looked at her, she smiled at me. It was a warm, loving, open smile. She gave it without any judgment in her eyes. My brain instantly flashed a picture of my mother, smiling the same smile, and my eyes started tearing up a little. First time ever. I wanted to lean my entire body into my little grandmother’s body and have her hold me.

  “So, what do you do now?” Her voice startled me, although it was soft.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, there’s apologizing.”

  “Grandma, it’s been over a month. If I was going to apologize I should have done it weeks ago. Now it’s like trying to pull down a mountain of resentment.” I put my hands in my pockets, out of habit.

  “Well, that’s very true, you stubborn thing. But you still have to make it right.” She was smiling at me to take the sting out of her words.

  “How?”

  “By talking to her!”

  I snorted. “I can’t grandma, it’s not that simple,” I answered, irritably.

  “Ah, David, you are confusing one thing for another. Calling Lucy is very simple. You just pick up the phone and dial. What it is not is easy. It will not be easy to swallow a month of carefully tended jealousy, but it’s something you should do, nonetheless.”

  I didn’t reply. I was processing the thought. What she was saying was part of what made it so frustrating. All I had to do was just walk over to a phone, or take a drive. But that one little action might be one of the biggest of my life.

  Grandma continued. “Tell me, why is talking to her, talking to anyone for that matter, so hard for you?” My grandma took her hand off my knee and put it under my chin. This did not change the fact that she was now totally calling me out.

  “Well, let’s face it Grandma, I haven’t exactly been taught the finer skills of communication.” I was reluctant but firm.

  “You, young man, are going to have to get over this pathetic habit you have of habitually excusing yourself from any growth or change. Take the opportunity you’ve been given. Learn from it. Don’t blame others for your own shortcomings.” She hit her fist against her leg in frustration.

  “How do I just get over that?”

  “You get over it by deciding to. You get over it by forgiving your father for being a jerk. Rise above your circumstances and choose to be better than that.”

  “Forgive my father, awesome, no problem.” I laid the sarcasm on thick.

  “If you don’t, David, you are going to end up just like him.” Her words hit me like a slap in the face and my reply came out like a hiss.

  “What did you say?”

  I looked at her with burning eyes and she retreated a little. I closed my eyes feeling guilt replace the wave of white-hot anger. Her voice cut through the silence, gently.

  “When they ignore the slippery places, David, people become what they hate. If you let what your father did consume you without attending to it, it will hinder all your relationships. It will certainly affect any children that you might have some day.”

  The truth of this statement rang in my ears. I couldn’t escape it, so I did something I’d never done before in my entire life: I started to cry.

  I cried because I was frustrated and angry. I was mad at my father and knew I was turning into him. I was so mad at Rachel for preying on my insecurities. I was mad at Lucy for being so wonderful. But more than anything, I was just freaked out. I knew I needed to change the direction my life was headed in.

  “How do I just let go?” I asked, trying to wipe my face without moving my hair.

  “I don’t have a fix-it kind of answer for that, honey. I know, for me, it’s helpful to see The Good.”

  “The Good…” I let that phrase hang in the air as a kind of challenge, but she didn’t back down.

  “There is good in every situation, David. Finding it and focusing on it goes a long way in letting go of resentment, anger, and jealousy.” She was still patting my leg, patiently, so I figured I’d give it a try. I thought about it, hard, for a few minutes. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t find any good in my relationship with my father. I looked at her hopelessly, shaking my head a little. She just kind of smiled.

  “You have experienced things that a lot of people haven’t. That makes you someone who understands things that others can’t understand.” She paused for a second, looking off like she was trying to come up with the perfect words. “When you were nine and you got taken away and were with that other family, how did the social worker make you feel?”

  “I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I just remember being scared.”

  “That’s probably because the social worker didn’t understand what you were feeling and what was going on in your mind. Don’t you think that if you had been the social worker you would have been much more helpful to that little boy?” She smiled at me again, her words were so kind. I carefully wiped the remaining tears in my eyes. I nodded at her.

  “Well, that’s some good that can come out of this. There are many children who suffer like you did.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “You have a kind heart David. That is something that isn’t learned, I don’t even know if it’s hereditary. But kind hearts are improved by hardship for some reason, so you have one of the kindest, and you can do a lot of good with that.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Now, how are we going to deal with the Lucy thing? Because I like her.”

  I laughed at that statement of fact, although I had to shrug my shoulders in reply. I had no idea.

  “Now stop that,” Grandma snapped when she saw me descending into the pit of despair again.

  “What if she doesn’t forgive me?” This was actually the worst part. I could call, and talk, and apologize all week long. But my mind kind of blacked out when I thought of Lucy’s voice telling me to drop dead. Then there’d be no possibility of things getting better. Then it’d really be done.

  “Then you move on, David! But at least you know that you tried and didn’t give up and play dead!” She was on fire, her voice beginning to ring with disgust.

  “OKAY, okay, so what do I do?” I was laughing at the puckered up little face that was so determined at me making things right with Lucy.

  “Make it big, girls love that.” She immediately switched to party planner mode.

  “That’s not me.” My lip rais
ed up on one side, turning my mouth into a sneer. Grandma threw her hands in the air and blew a raspberry at me, which I’m pretty sure is old-folk talk for “I’ve-about-had-it.”

  “Oh please, David. You jumped into a frozen lake in front of a crowd of people for her and you’re saying you don’t do big?”

  I groaned. I would never escape the lake.

  “Just do you, but do it big so she can’t miss it.” She had a dreamy look in her eyes. I’d never realized how much of a hopeless romantic Grandma was before.

  “Why do you like her so much?” I asked her right as the question popped into my head, not bothering to filter my curiosity.

  “One because she makes you so happy,” she answered quickly, like she’d been expecting the question, then thought for a moment. “And two, because she is really different. She stayed all day and through the night and helped me when you were sick. She did all the dishes, she helped clean your room, and she talked with me for hours. It had been a long time since I had someone who hung around all day like she did. I like that she sees you for you, she sees what I see in you.”

  Grandma smiled again and started to get up from the couch, headed for the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder as she went, “So go. Do it. Do whatever you have to do to get her to forgive you.”

  She stopped abruptly and swung around to look at me, serious once again. “And if it doesn’t work I want you to promise me that there will be no more pity-parties, no more carrying on and feeling sorry for yourself. All you can do is learn and grow from your mistakes.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, still unconvinced.

  I sat for a few minutes, debating. There were a few ways I could go with this. I knew what the traditional “I’m sorry” hubbub looked like. It also occurred to me that Lucy probably hated roses and loved some random, foreign flower. Actually, she probably loved flowering weeds. It took a few minutes to think of anything, but I was tired of sitting on the couch and I knew Grandma would grill me about it later.

  I got out my cell phone and decided to call in reinforcements to help. First person I dialed was Johnny.

  “David, is this really you?” His chipper voice was a little higher than usual, in amazement.

  “Yeah man. Listen, I want to apologize to Lucy, will you help me?” I spoke quickly, trying not to lose my nerve.

  “Heck yeah man; I like her!” He sounded relieved. “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “No clue,” I admitted.

  “Ok, let me see if I can think of anything and I’ll call you back. You want to do it today?”

  “Yeah. I just want to get it done.” I also didn’t really want to chat about it anymore. Johnny’s alter ego was Chatty Cathy.

  “Awesome. See you in a bit?” He knew I was going to have to drive to his area because Lucy lived in Kalispell.

  “Right.” I said, hanging up to call Isaiah. It rang.

  “Yeah?” His deep voice was slow.

  “Isaiah, hey!” I hadn’t realized how happy I would be to hear him.

  “Dude, you’re alive! What the heck man?” Frustration tinged his voice, which was kind of touching. It was a rare occasion when Isaiah showed any real emotions.

  “I have no excuse, man. I’m sorry.” The brief silence was followed by a grunt of acceptance.

  “So, I need your help. I’m going to attempt--” I heard my grandmother clear her throat from the kitchen. “I’m going to apologize to Lucy, and I need your help.”

  “You want me to kidnap her?” he asked, bored.

  “Nah man. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, but I—“ Isaiah cut me off.

  “What about your fruity drawings? Draw her a picture of you stepping on Rachel’s face or something.”

  I laughed. I had really, really missed Isaiah.

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind seeing a picture like that.” Isaiah chuckled.

  “Okay now I have an idea. Johnny and I are going to come and get you in a few hours, alright?”

  “Yep.”

  I hung up the phone and walked to my closet, pulling out the box that contained all of my art supplies. I pulled out my acrylic paint, sat down on my bathroom floor, and started with a bright blue color that looked just like Lucy Peterson’s eyes.

  12. KEEP YOUR FEET UP!

  We drove into Lucy’s neighborhood slowly. Johnny and Isaiah looked like newborn kittens, living in a cabin near a lake, who just noticed their owners always kept a bag and some bricks on hand. I parked my car a block away from where the Peterson’s house was so that her parents wouldn’t see my car. When we stepped out of my Rabbit a bitter cold hit us. All three of us instantly shrugged deeper into our jackets and yanked our beanies to just above our eyebrows, covering up as much of our heads as possible.

  “So who is carrying this freaking thing?” Isaiah grunted while he untied a 28-foot ladder from the top of my extremely small, nearly broken-down Volkswagen.

  “I think we all have to, one in front, one in the middle, and one in the back.” I saw again how stupid it was to put it up there. If a policeman had seen us we would have been done. Not only would it have ruined our night, but it would have destroyed my apology. Nothing says, “I’m sorry, dear,” like a phone call from the county jail.

  We put the colossal ladder down on the ground and hurried back to the fading heat of the car for our flashlights. Last thing we grabbed was an oversized box, wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper, for Lucy. I had caught heat for buying it, and especially wrapping it, but it was worth it. I knew Lucy would like it. Plus, I got a kick out of wrapping stuff. The exact angles and folds of a well-wrapped gift just made my head happy.

  “Do you have any idea how guilty we look, toting this thing around a nice neighborhood in the dark?” Johnny said nervously. He looked around, expecting someone to jump out at any moment.

  “Relax, we only look guilty if someone sees us.” Isaiah’s laid back voice didn’t seem to relieve Johnny’s anxiety.

  “Look, all we have to do is get this ladder to Lucy’s house without anyone seeing us. It’s not that far away and no one is out. It’s too late and too cold for anyone to care.” I shivered slightly as I laid the gift on the rungs, more out of nerves than anything else. We all put our flashlights in our pockets and picked up the ladder. Imagine the sight of three punk boys tramping through a rich neighborhood, all dressed in black, hoods up, carrying a huge ladder and a big wrapped box. I was sure the bomb squad was going to cut us off at any moment. Despite what I’d said to Johnny, I was really hoping that no one’s Aunt Edna was sitting by the window tonight, bored out of her mind and watching for any sign of life.

  After a few moments of blundering along, we decided to walk behind bushes, just in case. That probably made us look even sketchier, but we had no choice.

  “So, dude, how are you carrying that box up to her?” Johnny’s voice, coming from the front of the ladder line, told me he really didn’t believe any of this was actually going to work.

  “Carefully,” I answered with determination. This was going to happen, even if we all went to jail. That’s what friends are for. We turned the corner of the street towards her house. As we did, a big orange cat leaped out in front of us, which made Johnny scream like a little girl. THAT made Isaiah snort and drop his end of the ladder. I almost broke my toe, and nearly dropped the gift box.

  “Shhh!” I hissed, in between fits of laughter. Johnny’s face was amazing; he definitely had more to lose than Isaiah and I did, if we got caught. He had a happy family in a nice home waiting for him and they would be scandalized if he got into trouble. His level of commitment to me was trumping his better judgment right now, and I appreciated it. Of course, I had my grandma, which was a new thing. But she told me to do this, so I wasn’t as worried about getting in trouble. Isaiah could have cared less either way. Once we got ourselves under control and talked Johnny into picking up the ladder again we continued down the street towards Lucy’s house. Isaiah ke
pt giggling the whole way.

  “There it is.” I nodded to the double story blue house completely surrounded by a white fence.

  “You didn’t say we were going into a fenced area.” Johnny looked around nervously again.

  “Sweet,” Isaiah whispered. We both turned around and saw him staring at the house like he had never seen one before. I mean, this one was really nice. All the houses kind of looked the same to me, but this one had a little bit of an edge to it. I’m sure it was all because of Lucy’s mom, who had to be a decorating and landscaping genius. To my relief, the silver Acura was sitting in the driveway. Lucy was home.

  “So which window is hers?” Isaiah asked.

  “It’s in the back of the house.” I whispered, looking around and trying to plan my best strategy. “Let's walk around and then go over the fence,” I decided.

  “Good idea.” Johnny ducked down and Isaiah and I copied him so we were all walking and squatting, level with the fence. I gatta tell you, that’s hard to do in the freezing cold with a ladder and a box full of breakable things. We walked around to the back of the house and realized that, because of the way the block was set up, another house was almost facing it. Nice.

  “Ok, so where is the window?” Johnny bounced on his heels.

  “It’s that one, right there.” I pointed to the far side of the house. We were going to have to walk through the monstrous back yard. We would have to navigate the hulking ladder around a small pool, a basketball hoop, and a big trampoline.

  “How do you know which room is hers, anyway?” Isaiah raised his eyebrows up and down at me a couple of times, suggestively.

  “I passed it when I went to the bathroom in their house.” He snorted in disbelief and I rolled my eyes at him. We stopped below Lucy’s window and looked up.

  “I don’t know if the ladder is tall enough, man.” Johnny was always the voice of reason in our little group.