by Jessa Eden
Yeah, I know. It was a big, fat lie.
Anyway, in my reconnaissance, I saw Marla eat lunch a couple of times with Stacy Obermeyer. I’d known Stacy for a long time and I thought she would be a good source of information.
I keyed in on her one day after school at her locker. “Stacy, what’s up with your home girl?” I asked.
She glanced up at me, her frizzy ponytail bobbing up and down as she chewed on some gum. “Which home girl are you referring to?”
“Marla.”
“What do you want with Marla?” she asked in a sassy voice, her hand on her hip.
“Just wondering what her story is.”
“Man, don’t mess with her. She’s had a rough time of it and doesn’t need you fuckin’ with her.”
Stacy always talked tough. You would have thought she was born and bred in New York City instead of Baltimore, Maryland.
“It’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to get her to tutor me in English.”
“Tutor you in English, huh?” Her voice was filled with total disbelief.
“Yeah, I need some help with my paper.”
“Listen, Marla’s a great person, but she leads a complicated life right now. She’s not like those other bimbos you usually date.”
I managed to look offended. “I don’t want to date her. I just want to get to know her a little.”
She studied me thoughtfully with her blue green eyes. “Then be gentle and kind, and don’t try any shit with her.”
“Yeah, I know. I already tried to flirt with her and went down in flames.”
She let out a loud, obnoxious laugh that ricocheted off the metal of the lockers. “She already shot you down and you’re coming back for more? She’s got your number, dude.”
I wasn’t going to give her any more ammunition. “Like I said, just lookin’ for her to tutor me.”
“Whatever. Just tread lightly.”
“Will do. Thanks for the info.”
I wasn’t sure if talking to Stacy was worth the information I got, but she did make me more curious about Marla’s life.
I was on a mission now.
My first order of business was to get Marla’s attention.
It was a safe bet she liked chocolate. Most girls I knew did.
So I left a Snickers taped to her locker.
Without a note.
A little mystery was good.
I hoped it would make her ask around and give me a chance to come forward with my good deed. But when she peeled the Snickers off her locker and gave it a once over, all she did was toss it in her bag without so much as a look around.
Gotta say, I was disappointed.
My second attempt involved my first and last go at poetry. It wasn’t pretty, but it would do the job. I left her a pathetic poem on the back of a chips bag pleading with her to help me with my paper.
My paper blows
It really, really blows.
Please help me say more than kite.
Cuz I don’t want my paper to bite.
Please help!
Beau
I timed it perfectly, taping the poem to her locker, so she would get it right before lunch. I spied on her from several lockers away as she read the poem. Her face lit up in amusement for a long second as she studied my masterpiece, but then she chucked it in her locker like she was throwing it away.
Damn, it didn’t work.
Gotta admit, my pride was wounded.
Nothin’ was working with this girl.
I wasn’t giving up, though.
I was just going to have to up the stakes and bring my A game. While I was thinking and planning, she continued to ignore me. But a couple of days later, I had a perfect opportunity to get on her good side. It fell into my lap while I was walking to my business math class.
Glancing down the wide hallway, I saw her strolling with a special needs kid I had known most of my life and an idea occurred to me.
Yeah, I know.
But I wasn’t above using the kid with Down’s syndrome as my wingman.
I rolled up on them as they strolled down the deserted hall. “Hey, Jonathan!” I said as he wheeled a dolly full of half-size boxes in my direction.
“Beau buddy!” he greeted, giving me a high five.
He was a round kid, with a permanently happy face. His brown eyes were always bright and his smile went from ear to ear all day long. You just couldn’t help but smile around him. He was always glad to see me, unlike his partner in crime.
“Hey, Marla!” I turned toward her, trying to gauge her reaction.
She shot me a suspicious stare as she crossed her arms. “When did you meet Jonathan?”
“I’ve known Jonathan since elementary school. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
“Yep! Beau buddy and me have always been friends,” Jonathan agreed heartily as he slapped me on the back.
“Uh-huh. So you’re buddies?” Marla asked, pointing at both of us.
“Yep. Buddies look out for each other, isn’t that right, Jonathan?” I asked, trying to show I was a good guy.
Jonathan nodded wholeheartedly, his whole face lighting up in agreement. “That’s right.”
“Are you taking good care of Marla?” I asked with a wink.
“Yep, she’s helping me with my Coke duty,” he said, pointing to the dolly loaded with boxes of soda. “I have to put all of these in the machines.”
“I see. Do you need any more help?” I asked eager to spend more time with the duo.
“Sure, Beau buddy. Want to push the soda?” Jonathan asked sweetly.
I was about to ditch my sixth hour. “I can do that.” I grabbed the dolly from him.
“Wow, you push good,” Jonathan praised as he walked beside me.
“Thanks, buddy. I’m doing my best.”
Marla sullenly followed us as I talked to Jonathan about his beloved cartoons. He was especially fond of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
“Who’s your favorite, Beau buddy?”
“I like Alvin. He’s always getting into trouble.”
“Yeah...he is,” Jonathan chuckled as we arrived in the empty cafeteria.
We found the soda machine and got down to business as I helped him load it up. Marla stood in the background, annoyed by my presence.
“Where else do we have to go, Marla?” Jonathan asked as we put the Coke machine back together.
“The teacher’s lounge and the gym. Why don’t you go on, Jonathan? Beau and I need to talk about something for a second.”
“Okay.” He wandered out the door as Marla turned her wrath on me.
“I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work!” She fired off as soon as Jonathan was out the door.
“What am I trying to do?”
She sighed, bothered by my answer. “You’re trying to show me what a good guy you are by hanging out with the special needs kid.”
Shit.
She was on to me.
“Whaaat?” I asked in feigned outrage. “That’s not true. Believe it or not, I do have a soft spot for special needs kids.”
“Really? How come I’ve never seen you work with them before?”
“Just because I don’t work with them, doesn’t mean I don’t talk to them.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. I’m watching you, Shepard. Don’t try anything funny.”
I laughed at her serious tone. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” I held up three fingers.
“Whatever. Just don’t use this kid to get to me, Beau. That’s not cool,” she said, her doe eyes flickering with panic.
Whoa.
What was scaring her so badly?
I didn’t like seeing fear in her eyes.
I immediately shifted gears, backing off from my original plan to win her over. “I promise. I’m just along for the soda, okay?” I said gently.
She sighed in exasperation. “All right, but I’m watching you.”
She proceeded to ignore me as I talked
to Jonathan and we made the rounds to the different soda machines around the school.
“Coke is my favorite. What’s your favorite, Beau buddy?” Jonathan asked as I wheeled the dolly through the double doors leading to the gym.
“I like Pepsi,” I said.
He pursed his lips in obvious distaste. “Nah, you gotta like Coke, Beau buddy.”
“I like Coke; it’s just not my favorite. Why don’t you ask Marla her favorite?” I said, glancing up at her.
The sunlight was streaming in just right to light up her dark hair as we entered the big gym.
Damn, she was pretty.
She scrunched up her little button nose. “I don’t drink soda. I don’t like the way it tastes.”
“What? That’s crazy talk,” I said trying to get her to smile.
She glanced sideways in my direction. “I prefer to put only natural things in my body and soda isn’t natural.”
“Not natural? Un-American,” I said, trying to tease her.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Whatever. Jonathan, you ready to load up the machines in here?” she asked sweetly as she turned her attention to him.
“Yep, Marla. But you should be nice to Beau buddy. He’s a good guy.”
“Oh, really? Did he pay you to say that?” Her tone was skeptical.
“No way! You’re funny, Marla, thinking Beau buddy isn’t a good guy. He always looks out for me.” Jonathan stared at me like I was Superman. “One time, he helped me get my candy back for this mean kid and another time he saved me from some bad boys who weren’t very nice.”
“Really?” she asked in a less hostile voice as she glanced at me curiously.
“Yeah, really. I can’t stand people picking on Jonathan,” I said, meaning it.
I had protected him several times growing up.
I hated bullies.
“I put up my dukes and said, ‘Don’t touch my friend Jonathan.’” I turned sideways and put up my fists, moving them around as if I was getting ready to box.
“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed, doing the same thing.
I pretended to hit him and he grinned as we play boxed around the gym.
“See, Marla? Me and Beau buddy are a good team,” Jonathan said as we horsed around.
Marla thawed several more degrees and actually smiled. “I’m glad you have someone looking out for you, Jonathan. I’m here for you, too.”
“Aw, thanks, Marla,” he said, giving her a big hug.
We made the rest of the pop deliveries, a new ease between Marla and me.
I knew I had a chance to win her over.
I just had to figure out what to do next.
CHAPTER SIX
Marla:
I threw my keys toward the bowl on the front entry table and heard them hit the purple porcelain dish with a clatter. I put my purse down on the glass tabletop and breathed in deeply.
I was home.
I could relax.
I sighed as I kicked off my black Dansko clogs.
It had been a long day.
I had spent it putting out fires ranging from a customer accidently getting the wrong hair color, to talking one of my clients down from having a nervous breakdown. Her boyfriend had just left her and she was beyond crushed. I prayed she made it through. I hated seeing anyone in so much pain.
It made me glad I wasn’t in the throes of a passionate affair. I knew what it meant to busted up over a guy. It wasn’t pretty and I was lucky to find my equilibrium after Beau left.
I glanced around my spotless house. Usually, I was tripping over Charlie’s size twelve sneakers and dealing with his crusty cereal bowls in the sink.
I’d enjoyed the quiet and calm since he’d been away. But I missed him terribly. He brought such youth and enthusiasm to my life. I was going to be so sad when he moves out someday and I will be all alone.
It was a situation I both dreaded and longed for. For now, I was just going to enjoy having the time to myself.
I walked into the kitchen, debating my evening plans. I could either be disciplined and throw on a yoga DVD, or I could sit around and relax. I always enjoyed stretching out my body, but I wasn’t sure I was up to it after the day I had. I was super tired.
I rummaged through the fridge, trying to decide what to have for dinner when I realized there was an important hockey game on. The Baltimore Gators were taking on the Texas Tigers in a divisional play-off game.
That sealed the deal.
I changed into sweats, poured myself a glass of sweet red wine, and plopped down on my favorite navy couch to watch the game. The TV came to life as I settled into my seat with the remote control. I had nowhere to be and I loved to unwind with a hard-hitting game.
“Richardson takes it down the ice and passes it to DeLuca who races up the side with his lightening quick speed,” the announcer’s blustery voice belted out of the TV.
Sam Richardson was Grace’s husband. He looked like a brawler, but he had a heart of gold, and he was very good to Grace.
The game was in the second period, but the Baltimore Gators were behind 2-1.
“Puzio comes out of nowhere and flattens O’Reilly,” the announcer said as he continued to call the action.
Emma had briefly gone out with Bill Puzio, but her heart had always belonged to Micah.
It was weird to know these players on a personal level after watching them on the ice for so many years. I’d been obsessed with the game of hockey since Beau came into my life.
Something about it just called to me.
Maybe it was the graceful way the players skated, or the do or die spirit each team seemed to have, but most likely it was the hot-blooded, beautiful warriors on the ice. Modern day gladiators who gladly spilled their blood and asked for more, gritty as hell, give-all-take-all men, who played with their heart and soul.
I used to love watching Beau play. He was a graceful skater, a forward with a wicked wrist shot he winged by goalie after goalie. He wasn’t super thick, but he was wiry, taking a lot more punishment than I would have thought possible.
I’d kept up with his career and watched his games whenever I had the chance. He’d been wildly successful for a number of years, playing on the number one line in Toronto before his accident.
The buzz of my cell phone came to life as Baltimore scored. I prayed it wasn’t the salon. I didn’t need to deal with any more crises for the day.
“Hey, lady! How are you?” Stacy Obermeyer gushed into the phone.
She was one of my dearest friends.
“Stacy! How’s San Francisco?” I asked.
“Good. It’s hilly and cold, but beautiful.”
“How’s the new job going?”
“I’m liking it. They gave me my own column. Can you believe that? Stacy Obermeyer doling out inspiring thoughts and being paid for it. I love it.”
She’d never had any trouble tooting her own horn.
“Oh Stacy, you deserve it, but I miss you, hon.” She had just moved a couple months ago and hearing her voice made me miss her all the more.
“I miss you, too. You should come out to San Francisco sometime.”
“That would be fun. I would enjoy that, but it would be hard to get away from the salon. Are you coming back to Baltimore anytime soon?”
“Yeah, I’m coming back out for my sister’s wedding in October.”
“Yay! Are we going to get a chance to hang out?”
“Do birds fly? Of course, we will. Let’s do something fun and dangerous.”
“Oh yeah, because we’re just two thrill seeking gals.”
“Hey, I remember a few adventures with you,” she wisecracked.
Oh god, I missed having her around. She knew me so well.
We’d been friends since my senior year in high school. I didn’t know many people at my new school, but that didn’t stop Stacy from befriending me.
She sat down next to me on the first day of trigonometry and said, “Ah, I don’t know about you, but trig bites.” Her blonde
hair was heavily permed, a pink scrunchy holding up half of her thick hair.
“I hear you. Math sucks,” I agreed whole-heartedly.
She smiled, showing off a brilliant set of teeth. “Then let’s stick together and kick this trig bitch’s ass,” she said like she was throwing down in a fight.
I laughed, loving her boldness. “I’m Marla.”
“Stacy. Without an e.”
“Glad to meet you, Stacy without an e.”
After that, we became fast friends, studying hard to get through trigonometry. We were very different, but somehow we just clicked. She was a social butterfly, flittering around to her many friends, while I stayed buried in my books, determined not to draw any attention to myself.
Still, we ate lunch together most days.
One spring afternoon, shortly after I met Beau, I sat in the school’s god-awful cafeteria waiting for her. The room wasn’t so bad, but the smells were what got to me. The aroma, a cross between burnt Tater Tots and overcooked meat, always made my stomach turn.
I don’t know how anyone ate that junk. No matter what, I packed my own lunch. I ate as healthy as I could on the budget Emma and I lived on.
The one good thing about the cafeteria was the panel of floor to ceiling windows which filled an entire side of the large, square room, facing out to the quad with all the lush greenery in full bloom. I always tried to sit over there and stare out at the pretty landscape.
I loved nature and felt better when I was close to it.
“Are you still eating yogurt and granola for lunch?” Stacy asked as she threw her sack lunch down on the white table I was sitting at.
“Yep. It’s my fav,” I said as I scraped the side of the Yoplait container with my spoon. “Plus, yogurt’s been on sale for a couple of weeks. I try to stock up.”
“I know it’s good for you, but don’t you get tired of it?”
“I will eventually, but for now, I love it,” I said licking my spoon.
She rolled her blue green, almond shaped eyes at me.
“Just eat your lunch, smarty pants,” I said as she dug into her brown lunch sack.
“Whatever. How was your weekend?” she asked as she pulled out a sandwich.
“It was good. Just did some studying and some grocery shopping.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re really living it up.”