UI 101

by M. K. Claeys

  “It’s like Christmas all over again!” he yelled, picking me up and spinning me around. “Come in and meet my parents!” He grabbed my bag from the car, slung it over his shoulder, took me by the hand, and dragged me inside. “Mom, Dad! Ryn’s here!” he yelled, tugging me into the kitchen.

  “Hi, honey!” said Paul’s mom, smiling brightly. “Paul hasn’t stopped talking about you all Christmas. I’m so glad you could come to visit!”

  “Me too,” I said earnestly, walking over to shake her hand and giving a wave to Paul’s dad where he sat reading the paper at the table. “Sorry for the short notice. I guess I was just so intent on getting here that I completely forgot that minor little detail of actually calling to see if it was all right.” I grinned sheepishly.

  “Of course it is, dear! Come in, come in, sit down! Have some cocoa,” she said, setting a mug in front of me. “Is it really a bother for you to take Paul back down to school?”

  “’Course not,” I said thickly, having just burnt my tongue on the hot chocolate. “I live an hour from Illington, and it will be great to have someone to talk to on the way back down. Thanks so much for letting me stay on such short notice—really, it’s the least I could do!” I passed Mrs. Ellis the food gift and took the liquor gift to Mr. Ellis at the table, plopping it down right between him and his newspaper, making him jump a little. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Ellis!” I said sweetly, shooting him a winning smile.

  He stared at me as if I were either the eighth wonder of the world or else the biggest, oddest curiosity he had ever viewed. And then he opened the gift and grinned at me, unscrewing the cap and pouring a measured amount of brandy into his coffee.

  I picked up my mug and clinked it with his. “Cheers!”

  Paul positively beamed at me, and so did Mrs. Ellis. From everything Paul had told me, I gathered that Mr. Ellis wasn’t the most social of creatures, but that he really liked the fine things in life and he liked to enjoy them quietly. I had won my way into his good graces, and I was happy to stay there.

  We got bundled up and Paul took me on a tour of his hometown, and I made sure to drag him into two Starbucks—even though we both agreed that they’re horribly corporate, we just couldn’t deny that their caramel and raspberry macchiatos were the most glorious things we’d tasted in a long time—while we traipsed between used CD and book stores.

  Over the weekend I discovered that Ann Arbor is actually a pretty cool town, and what Paul said is true, that they are very open-minded there, as a rule. A rule, in the sense that they have Hash Bash every summer, they totally support the gay and punk communities, and there’s a vast amount of residents who are all about legalizing marijuana for more than just medicinal purposes. What they’re not very open about, though, is their thoughts on sports and the local college. When I was asking Paul about the university and how “weren’t the colors blue and gold” and the mascot was a “werewolf or something,” this really snotty couple butted into our conversation and started giving us a crash course in the history of the University of Michigan.

  Werewolf, wolverine, whatever! I obviously couldn’t care less about sports.

  And honestly, when it came down to it, I didn’t care what they said, it was gold. Or even yellow for that matter. Maize is corn, people, not a color. They may make fun of Michigan State because they are a land grant university that is surrounded by cows and farmland, but honestly when it comes down to it, don’t cows eat corn? Couldn’t you therefore logically deduce that Spartans eat Wolverines for breakfast, regurgitate them, and then eat them all over again? Either way, Paul and I were so sick of getting lectured about everything that we made an excursion to East Lansing so we could buy the most obnoxious T-shirts we could find, wear them in Ann Arbor, and make people angry. Most of the student population had gone home for the holidays, but the city was still large enough that we made a definite scene. I had such a hard time choosing between one shirt that said Ann Arbor is a Whore and another that said Keep Calm and Burn the Couch that I just ended up buying both.

  New Year’s came, and Paul and I went to a punk concert downtown to celebrate in one of the used record stores we had perused, where we met some really cool people and had one of the most fantastic times I’d ever imagined. And I mean, I did pick up my phone when Brian called me at midnight, but is it my fault that the store was so crowded I couldn’t hear a word he was saying? I made sure to call him once we’d left, but he didn’t answer, so I left him a message. And it was a really nice one too. I told him I was sorry for what I’d said and that I hoped we could work it out because I really loved him and I missed him, and I left it at that. Honestly, how could his heart not melt?

  We drove back to the Ellis residence to find the parental units still up and having one last nightcap with their neighbors to ring in the new year. They even poured us a half measure of champagne apiece so we could celebrate with them, which I thought was very nice. I made sure to call my parents and Adrian, and then Paul and I headed downstairs to play his new Wii. Unfortunately, even our exuberant Wii playing wasn’t loud enough to block out the conversation that was traveling through the vents.

  “So that was Paul’s girlfriend?” asked Mr. Next-Door. “She was a nice-looking young lady. Did he meet her at school?”

  “Oh yes,” gushed Mrs. Ellis, the drink no doubt egging her on. “Lovely girl. I was a little worried about Pauly at first when he left, going so far away, but he seems to be doing so well in Illington!”

  “We wished he had stayed in Ann Arbor at the beginning,” said Mr. Ellis, “but I agree with Linda. He’s much happier where he is.”

  “Must be serious about her if he’s bringing her to meet you,” commented Mrs. Next-Door.

  “Yes, must be,” said Mrs. Ellis, but at that point I had grabbed the remote and turned the Wii on full blast to block out the remainder of the conversation that could only get more awkward.

  Paul, apparently, had a different idea. He snatched the remote away from me and turned the volume back down, his face contorted in the effort to hear more of what was going on. In the end, I gave in and climbed on top of the pool table so I could stick my ear right up to the main vent, and Paul joined me, although he had to stoop so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling.

  “—girl, coming all the way here on her own to meet you. I was scared senseless when I met Alex’s parents for the first time.”

  “I remember when I met Linda’s parents,” said Mr. Ellis, giving a throaty chuckle. “They walked in on us in a rather compromising position, do you remember, Lin?”

  “John!” shrieked Mrs. Ellis. “I can’t believe you’d bring that up!”

  “Oh my God, I so did not need to hear that!” groaned Paul in a distraught whisper. I just giggled.

  “I take it you haven’t had that problem with Paul?” asked Mr. Next-Door.

  “No!” cried Mrs. Ellis vehemently. “Our Paul is a good boy! I mean, I’m not saying he’s completely, um, innocent. I mean he couldn’t be, not after an entire semester away at school and growing up here, but he wouldn’t take advantage of our trust like that. But now that you mention it, I haven’t seen anything more than platonic activity going on between him and Ryn, have you, John?”

  “No, I haven’t either, actually.”

  “Lucky you,” remarked Mr. Next-Door casually. “We have to watch our Jeff constantly, although I think—and I mean this sincerely; I’m not being naïve or biased—that his girlfriend is a bad influence on him. I can’t wait till he gets rid of her.”

  “Alex!” There went Mrs. Next-Door again. “Now, Jessica has her good qualities too.”

  “Of course she does, dear,” Mr. Next-Door assured her in a falsely comforting tone. “Sweet Little Unforgettable Thing is not what that word stands for when it comes to her.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at Paul. “Sweet Little Unforgettable—ooh!” We both had to cover our mouths in order to keep from bursting out laughing.

  Mr. Next-Door had already continued, “—
like the fact that she can show off her thong every time she leans over to pet the dog? A very good quality, Anna, very good. I’m sure you’d admire it just as much if our own daughter had the same quality, wouldn’t you?”

  “I—I wouldn’t— Oh fine! I can’t stand the little skank! Are you happy?”

  “Quite. Will you top me off, John?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Well, what about Ryn, though?” insisted Mrs. Next-Door. “Is she as nice as she seemed in the five minutes we talked to her?”

  Now it was Paul’s turn to jump for the remote, but I nixed him with a look.

  “She is,” Mrs. Ellis assured her. “She cleans up after herself, has excellent manners, and made us lunch this afternoon. And she brought us gifts when she arrived.”

  “Isn’t her hair a little, um…loud?” asked Mr. Next-Door.

  I touched my hand to my head self-consciously, but Paul slapped it away and shot me a look. It seemed like he certainly didn’t care what my hair looked like.

  “I like it,” said Mr. Ellis flatly from through the vent. “It reflects her personality: bright, spunky, and, sunny. She makes me laugh. She can come back any time, as long as she doesn’t bring Paul with her.”

  There was a chorus of laughter at Mr. Ellis’ joke before the conversation resumed. I smiled at Paul. I guess I didn’t have to worry after all.

  “It’s too bad,” said Mrs. Next-Door sadly. “That Paul went to Illington and met her and that she’s not from around here, I mean. Then maybe our Jeff could have gotten her as a girlfriend instead of Jessica.”

  “Maybe she’s got a sister?” pondered Mrs. Ellis hopefully. “Then we’d be like real family!”

  I nodded, satisfied, and Paul and I went back to our game. So his parents liked me. That was always a plus, but I couldn’t ignore everything else we’d heard. When we climbed up to the main floor to finally go to bed, Paul paused as he dropped me off at my door.

  “Do you want me to accidentally let them see me holding your hand tomorrow when we come in for breakfast or something?” I asked, shooting him a wink.

  “No,” he sighed. “I’ve put this off long enough. I’m going to have to tell them eventually; I just don’t know how. I’ll figure it out, though, don’t worry, Ryn.”

  He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, rubbing his hand up and down my arm briefly, then walked to his room and closed the door behind him, leaving me standing in the dark.

  By the next morning, though, I’d formulated a plan. When I came into the kitchen for breakfast, I put on my brooding face as I sat next to Paul’s mom.

  “You all right, Ryn, honey? You look upset.”

  “Oh, I’m okay I guess, Mrs. Ellis. I mean, I was just thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “Boys, mostly. I mean, you and Mr. Ellis are really happy. You complement each other. Is every relationship like that?”

  Mrs. Ellis went into a very heartfelt expression of her feelings about how hard relationships were and the effort people had to put in to make them work, but I wasn’t really listening. I was trying to catch Paul’s eye from across the table. His expression clearly said, What are you doing? and so I mouthed back to him, Helping you. His eyes widened as it evidently dawned on him what I was going to do, but then his face shut down and I couldn’t read it. There were a few more minutes where Mrs. Ellis prattled on, and even Mr. Ellis chipped in a few words of wisdom, before Paul finally looked me in the eye and gave me the most imperceptible nod. I had gotten the go-ahead. That was when I actually started listening to what his mother was saying to me.

  “—hardest thing to realize is that you’re in a relationship that’s not good for you. And it can hurt really badly, but after the healing process is over, you’ll realize it’s for the best that you’re not with the person any more. I was broken-hearted for over a year before I met Paul’s father, and so when he originally asked me out, I turned him down.”

  “Rather cruelly too,” Mr. Ellis piped up from behind his paper.

  Mrs. Ellis stuck her tongue out at him. “But the point is that in the end I came to my senses and realized I was missing opportunities by grieving over someone who had treated me so wrongly, and that’s when I started moving in the right direction.”

  “So basically,” interrupted Paul loudly, “what you should be getting from this, Ryn, is that you should ditch Brian because he’s a no-good loser.”

  I glared at him, but I knew I deserved it. I was setting him up to out himself, as he very well knew and approved of, but I couldn’t really blame him for taking advantage of the situation to tell me exactly what he thought about my boyfriend.

  Mr. Ellis actually put down his paper. “Brian? Who’s Brian?”

  “My boyfriend,” I said sadly, laying on the I’m so miserable air with the perfect amount of thickness.

  “Boyfriend?” repeated Mrs. Ellis.

  “Yeah. We’ve been dating for over two years, and we got in a really big fight right before I came here. The biggest one we’ve had in a long time, actually, which is saying a lot because it really seems like all we do is fight.”

  Why was I telling them this? I was just supposed to be using this as a cover, not actually pouring out my real-life woes!

  “That’s kind of why I ended up coming here, actually,” I admitted rather sheepishly. “Paul’s my best friend. I knew he’d help me sort it out. He’s really good with that sort of thing, and I figured if I wanted to understand a guy, who better to ask than another guy, right? Or someone who has more experience dealing with this whole dating thing,” I added, giving Mrs. Ellis a nod. I was running out of things to say, but luckily, I was spared having to elaborate by the fact that Paul’s parents seemed to be in utter shock at the discovery that the girl who had been taking refuge in their house for the past three days was not, as they had believed her to be, their son’s girlfriend.

  “But I—that is to say, we—thought that you and Paul were…” Mrs. Ellis trailed off.

  As if it were staged, and all right, it kind of was, Paul and I burst out laughing.

  “Us?” chortled Paul, pointing back and forth across the table between us. “Together? Oh, Mom, you can’t be serious!”

  “I am!”

  “I thought you were too,” admitted Mr. Ellis, his paper long forgotten. “I guess I knew it had to be too good to be true. I like Ryn too much for you to actually be interested in her. Isn’t that the point of being a teenager? To bring home people you know your parents will hate just to laugh behind their backs while they live in misery about where they supposedly went wrong?”

  “Maybe for some people,” I acknowledged, thinking of the girls in our dormitory, “but Paul’s not like that.”

  “So you’re really not together?” asked Mrs. Ellis sadly.

  “Oh no, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry!” cried Paul, genuinely abashed. “I didn’t ever mean for you to think that. I mean, I love Ryn to death, I really do, but she’s my best friend. And that’s all she’ll ever be,” he added, giving his mother a firm look and quelling any thoughts of rebuttal or weddings that might have been forming in her head. “I guess you could say she’s, um, not my type.”

  Paul’s mom just stared blankly, alternating her sad gaze between the two of us, the green reflecting lost dreams of bridesmaids’ dresses and flowers, while Paul’s dad fixed his eyes through his glasses on Paul, folded his hands on top of the table and said calmly, “And what exactly is your type, son?”

  It was an invitation, not an accusation, and Paul recognized it as the easy way to come clean.

  “Dead Cross,” he said simply. “I really dig the guys from Dead Cross.”

  “The punk band, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I see,” said Mr. Ellis, nodding. “They’re very good at what they do. Very driven, very successful. I can appreciate that.”

  The silence stretched to the point where it was uncomfortable. Finally, Paul said, “Look, Mom, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t
what you wanted, I just…”

  And Paul’s mom burst into tears, pushed back her chair, and ran around the table to hug her son.

  “Pauly, I just want you to be happy. Dad and I have been so worried about you. You never seemed happy when you were here. You left for Illington and I couldn’t help it. I panicked. I was afraid that you would drop out or go off the deep end.”

  “Mom, seriously? Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

  “You’re my only son. I’m allowed to be dramatic sometimes.”

  “I’m okay, Mom. I finally realized I could be myself at Illington, and it’s been really good for me. It’s a relief to not feel like I have to hide any more. I was afraid you guys would be disappointed.”

  Paul’s dad set his glasses carefully on the table, surreptitiously wiped his eyes, and joined in the family hug. “Never disappointed, Paul,” he said. “Just always wanting what’s best for you and for you to be happy.”

  I smiled at them for a moment before I realized I was totally intruding and tried to quietly extract myself from the kitchen, but a long arm snaked out from the blob and pulled me in to the hug as well.

  “I never could have told them without you, Ryn,” said Paul, his voice muffled by the group. “Thanks.”

  I burst into tears to match his mom.

  15

  Mitzy

  It was so good to be home. Billy had grown so much, and Emma had her first boyfriend at school, who was taking her to the Snowflake Dance. Even though in Tennessee we rarely ever get snow, it was still cute how they decked out the school cafeteria in fake snow and Christmas trees and everyone usually wore red, green, white, or gold. I was glad high school was done and over with for me and I wasn’t going to the dance. All the decorations would just make me homesick for Illington and sledding down the hill on “borrowed” cafeteria trays with my friends.