Pandora Wild Child

by Sunniva Dee

  Alan, stupid-ass Alan, who’s never observant enough to catch on to anything, peers at me over his cup of coffee. “You having problems, son?”

  Shit, he’s got to stop calling me “son.” And why did I tell Grandma about Pandora? What good could possibly come of it? I’m happy when she starts clearing the table.

  “No, not really, Alan. Just classes. Not attending them and all that.”

  Alan blows out a puff. His chair squeaks against the floor when he pushes out of the seat. “All right. Well, good. Mom?” He kisses her forehead. “I gotta get to work. See you tonight.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Some of Melissa’s paybacks were intense,” I say after Alan is out the door.

  “Yes, I remember she punctured your tires while you were at the beach one time.” Grandma smiles. “See, she was scorned and resentful.”

  “She was,” I admit. “And here I’d always known her as—sedate.” I pull at my too-long hair while Alan crunches out into the driveway. “At least she had fun getting me back,” I say. “Reckon we’re more than even.”

  I’m in my car outside my uncle’s practice. To be on the safe side, I don’t get out until Melissa arrives and escorts an old man with a walker in the door. Her jaw goes slack with surprise when I enter right behind her.

  I haven’t seen Melissa in years. Her cheeks are fuller, she’s curvier, and her hair shorter, but I’d recognize her anywhere. Strange to think that during most of high school, we spent every waking hour together.

  Melissa brings her hands to her cheeks. She always blushed easily, and her fair skin flames pink as I shorten the distance. “Hi, Melissa,” I say. “What’s up?”

  “Dominic… Sorry. Something came up yesterday.”

  “I figured”—I nod—“since you weren’t at Starbucks.”

  Her entire face blotches with embarrassment as she turns to the receptionist. She scribbles down her charge’s name and fusses to get him situated in a chair. The walker appears to be in the way, so I set it by the wall.

  “He gets grumpy if I’m not in there,” Melissa says without looking at me. She must be referring to the old man and the possibility of me asking for alone-time while he undergoes treatment.

  “That’s fine. Let’s meet up later, shall we? I have a question for you,” I add.

  She flicks me a glance from underneath her bangs, which gives me hope that she might be more shy than mad. Seriously, who can be upset for this long?

  “I’m busy this week—”

  “Come by the house? Grandma misses you. Tonight?” I ask, not accepting her lame excuse.

  She’s hesitant, but she knows I’m stubborn.

  “You want me to bang on your door every day instead?” I joke, causing a little smile to quirk her lip.

  “Okay, no. Fine, I’ll be at your grandma’s after choir,” she says.

  I try to study after Leon drops me off. One bad night shouldn’t change my new resolution of getting my studies on track. I was hoping Mica would be home since she doesn’t have classes on Fridays, but nobody’s here and I don’t like it. Being home alone freaking sucks whether it’s night or day.

  I miss my little dog. Rocky would’ve kept me company. What if I got a cat? I shake the idea off and grab a soda. Make myself comfortable on the breakfast bar with the philosophy project due on Monday.

  My attention periodically draws to the phone I’ve pulled out of my purse. While I’ve been busy not getting crap done, missed calls and unread messages clutter up the screen.

  I cover my face with my hands. In the end, I give up, because I’m not strong enough. I could ignore the phone while I was with Leon, but this is different. I’m alone, and my textbooks can’t keep my mind occupied. I need to find out.

  The first four are from Mom:

  How are classes?

  Dad is checking in with your teachers on Monday.

  Hello? Dad will book a hotel in Deepsilver if necessary.

  Hi? You know how Dad is. Call me.

  The next three messages are from Dominic. They’ve ticked in every couple of hours since yesterday.

  U up?

  Text when you’re out of class.

  Babe—U OK?

  Then the last one is from Shannon.

  Dominic called. He’s worried. I didn’t tell him about last night. What’s going on????

  I text Shannon because I can’t be alone anymore. U done with class? Coffee?

  She types back instantly. C U in 15 at Coffee-Lovey.

  “I’m a hussy,” I tell Shannon, while she plops ice cubes into her latte.

  “Sleeping with three guys in your entire life by the time you’re twenty doesn’t make you a hussy. You’re thoughtless and freaking stupid, though, which is different.”

  I groan and rub my eyes. I’ve got a quadruple-shot espresso in front of me, and I’m stirring in a pound of sugar. “I didn’t sleep with Leon, so I’m still at two.”

  “Wow, how did you manage that?” She seems genuinely surprised, which brings me straight back to the hussy part of the agenda.

  I laugh weakly. “He told me I was too drunk.”

  “What? You came onto him and he turned you down? What a dick! Although that’ll make Christian happy. Oh, and me. Because Christian knows what he’s talking about, sugar. Always.”

  “Always, huh? Love is blind.”

  She picks something from my shoulder, shudders, and fans it off her nail with the overly feminine elegance she summons sometimes. “Then again—weird. We were gonna bring you home with us, but Leon was uber-eager to get you to stay over last night.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Sooo? Why hussy?”

  My phone buzzes, the bright halo of a saint shimmering up the screen. Dominic. I unlock the screen and read Please text me.

  I flick my eyes up at Shannon with a headshake. “I don’t understand why Dominic even bothers.”

  “Shush! Stop belittling yourself, Pandora. Why do you think he’s so nice to you? He’s crazy about you.”

  “Not saying he’s appalled by me or anything, but—”

  “Good grief, girl,” Shannon sighs, but I continue because I need a confessor right now and she’s the lucky winner.

  “—I can’t reply. I haven’t texted him back since yesterday.”

  “Yep, figured as much since he’s blowing up my phone now. Answer him. Please?”

  Despite the situation, I’m inundated with a strange sort of amusement at how ridiculous this is. Why—why do they care so much? “You’re both all ‘Please, Pandora.’” I giggle.

  Shannon rolls her eyes. “Hysterical.”

  “But no, I can’t reply.”

  “Because he’s Perfect Dominic and you’re Messy Pandora?” she suggests, helpful as always.

  “No. Something happened last night.” From the way she frowns, leaning in over the table, I can tell she assumes whatever happened was at Leon’s house. I’m not ready to delve into my strange sleepover, though, and it’s not what I’m preoccupied with at the moment. “Before I came to Smother,” I specify.

  “Really? We hung out only hours before that. What—where?”

  “Long story short: with Dominic gone from the spa, the owner does my massage sessions. Turns out she’s not only into him—she has slept with him. I’m talking on a regular basis.”

  Eyes wide, Shannon inhales a deep breath. Funny how her first question is what I would have asked if the tables were turned. “How old is she?”

  Yeah, an owner of a successful spa can’t be young in my mind either. “In her forties. Not kidding.”

  Shannon bites her lip, her mouth trembling from holding back laughter. “Okay, Pandora—the lady’s dreaming. You know that, right? Dominic can be with whomever he wants. Why would he sleep with a midlife crisis casualty? Have you asked him?”

  “Oh, he would with this one. I’m talking Hollywood-style cougar with a British accent, Shannon. The bitch is gorgeous.”

  She’s stunned.
Shannon usually has her retorts at the ready, but now her jaw slackens as she stares at me. “Really? Cougar-town pretty? What does she look like?”

  “Who the fuck cares? Short, cute, with giant boobs like she’s about to breastfeed. Spa-tanned, a short platinum bob, perfect makeup and pouty lips. Like seriously pouty lips, not like mine.”

  I jump when Shannon slaps my armrest, finally laughing out loud. “Wow, have you studied her or what? Seems like someone besides Spa-Owner Lady is obsessed with Dominic. Or her!”

  Okay, this conversation is not going how I’d hoped. Shannon was supposed to be Supportive, Understanding Shannon, the upside of her Libra-self, not the devilish side. “You sure you’re not a Gemini?” I mumble.

  She’s too busy being amused at my expense to hear me. The more I consider it, the more I realize she’s the evil twin of the new astrology sign I’ve assigned her. Libra my ass.

  “Whatever, Shannon. She even told me he was good in bed!”

  “And that surprised you?”

  “Shannon!”

  “Sorry.” She chuckles.

  It takes her a moment to become Wise, Caring Shannon, but she eventually gets there. “Okay, now, tell me why you’re not answering him.”

  “Because we’re just friends, so his personal life’s none of my business.”

  She nods sagely, then lets the nod morph into a headshake. “Don’t be silly. Of course, you have no claim to him, especially since you’re trying so goddamn hard to stay away, but—” She interrupts herself and starts over. “So you can’t even talk with him right now? What sort of friendship is that? Don’t you owe it to Dominic to hear his side before you judge? Are you gonna believe the bitch, sight unseen?”

  I blink at her tirade of questions, and she studies me as I take in the words, realizing she’s right. I look around, zeroing in on the exit, and mull over what to do with the rest of this shitty day.

  “Planning your escape route, Pan?” Shannon asks.

  If it were up to my brain cells, my buddy Dominic would be wearing a chastity belt. My stomach hurts. I need a break from my mind… my possessive mind.

  It’s getting late on a Friday night, and Smother will be hopping in a matter of hours. Good.

  Back at the apartment, Destiny and Mica have bought dinner fixings. The front door is open, and they’re bustling with shopping bags, unaware of our return. Idly, I consider how much their relationship has changed Mica’s and mine: I’ve lost my party sidekick!

  Mica murmurs something, leaning on the stovetop with both hands. Destiny nuzzles her ear, and what she whispers makes Mica giggle in a breathy, intimate way.

  “Ready to have them fess up?” I say to Shannon.

  She bobs her head, winking conspiratorially. “Get them.”

  I wait until I’m right behind them in the kitchen. Then I bellow, “Hola chicas!”

  They jump apart, and Destiny actually yelps. Shannon starts laughing. “You girls? You’re unbelievable, you know that? Are we done hiding soon?”

  Destiny’s arms close around her midsection in a protective hug. Two fingers travel nervously up her ribs, an array of emotions racing over her features. She opens her mouth like she’s about to disagree—contradict what we just witnessed—but nothing comes out. She puts space between herself and Mica even though they’ve been inseparable for months.

  Mica doesn’t follow Destiny’s lead. My spunky, golden-haired fairy friend slinks an arm around Destiny’s waist and pulls herself close. “Tell them,” she whispers.

  It’s strange to see them like this. Boisterous, impulsive Mica who’s so much like me. She acts before she thinks and yet here she is, patiently waiting for Destiny to decide what she wants to do.

  I feel a lump ferment in my throat; my girls are growing up, finding their loves. I’d never expect this from Mica who’s always been boy-crazy, but Destiny hasn’t showed much interest in guys. I guess I thought she was a late bloomer.

  Destiny’s gaze flickers up. Mica’s small hand goes up and caresses Destiny’s cheek as she nods, assuring her. “You can do this.”

  When Mica leans in and supports her chin on Destiny’s shoulder, the deepest exhale rushes out of our friend.

  “Okay, well.” Destiny’s voice cracks when she addresses us. She’s so nervous she reminds me of when she gave the high school graduation speech.

  “C’mon. Spit it out,” bad-Gemini-twin Shannon urges her.

  “I love Mica.”

  “You what?” Mica’s voice rises until I think of cartoon mice.

  “I love you,” Destiny repeats, gazing into Mica’s eyes now.

  “Really? Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me before? I love you too!” Mica is being the Mica of always—she’s giddy and dancing in place. “Score!”

  “All righty, then.” Shannon sends me a look. “Who the hell says ‘score’ when their beloved professes their eternal love?”

  “I didn’t say eternal.” Pragmatic Destiny rubs her chin, index finger sliding up so she can nibble on a cuticle.

  “Oh, sugar-baby-doll, I’ll make you last,” Mica purrs and wraps herself around Destiny the way only she can. Mica is a natural. When they kiss and forget all about us, Shannon clears her throat.

  “Um, you girls making… dinner too?”

  “Uh-huh.” Destiny draws back, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. She peeks at us sideways, but doesn’t pull out of Mica’s embrace.

  On our way down the corridor to our rooms, I elbow Shannon. “That went well.”

  “Sure, and damn are we hosed,” she puffs out. “I bet they’ll be straight up sickening from now on.”

  I chuckle. “Christian and you, Destiny and Mica. Now, I’m the only one not sickening around here.”

  I race home from Alan’s office and get some homework done. My professors have been understanding about my situation. On a day when Grandma was too confused, Professor Auer even accepted my project twenty-four hours after the due date without batting an eye—no point deductions whatsoever. I’m surprised and grateful.

  Pandora still hasn’t texted me back. The short conversation I had with Shannon earlier didn’t do much to calm my worries. Sure, she told me Pandora’s back was okay when I asked, but it’s not all that could be wrong with her.

  I grab the phone. It’s eight p.m. here, so eleven in Deepsilver. Shit. I hope she’s not at Smother. She probably is.

  Pandora doesn’t pick up. No matter what she’s up to, she tends to do that, I’ve noticed, although I’ve only been on the receiving end of this treatment since yesterday. What the hell happened yesterday?

  A knock on the door announces Melissa’s arrival. I open, and she passes me without a second glance, heading straight for Grandma.

  “Oh, goodness, Mrs. Davide,” she exclaims. “You look great! I cannot believe how long it’s been.”

  Grandma meets her in a wholehearted hug. “Oh, little Melissa,” she says, which makes me stifle a laugh; Melissa isn’t tall, but Grandma’s tiny in comparison.

  “You’re as pretty as ever. I’ve missed you around here,” Grandma continues, and when they release each other, Melissa clasps both of Grandma’s hands in hers. She beams at her with a mixture of genuine interest and professional expertise, and I chortle inwardly at how Melissa would ace any course in patient-bonding.

  “Oh, you’re too kind. I’ve missed hanging out with you too. Remember our baking sprees?”

  To see Grandma this happy? I’d dab at an eye if I were the weeping type right now.

  Melissa’s gaze flickers over the small kitchen, registering everything. The lack of organization, the dirty dishes. I’ve done my best since I came home, but as we enter the TV room, I realize I’m not rocking the housewife thing. Not that I care, but the house isn’t as clean and tidy as when I grew up. I hope Melissa’s professionalism overpowers her innate knack for small-town gossip.

  While we eat the chocolate cake Grandma has baked for the visit, I breach the subject of caretaking. My plan had been to ta
lk with Melissa alone, but seeing the two of them together, Melissa repeatedly stroking Grandma’s arm, I change my mind.

  “Melissa, do you know anyone who could spend some hours a day with Grandma? I’ll be moving home once I graduate in about seven months, but we need help until then.”

  Grandma’s forehead crinkles next to me, and she shakes her head. “Dominic, honey—not ‘anyone.’ Melissa! I only want Melissa. Were you going to have someone from her old people’s home come over and baby me?”

  Obviously, this was my way of urging my ex to volunteer without putting her on the spot, and here’s Grandma ruining everything with one swift blurt-out. I’m sure Melissa is busy with her studies and her job. Choir practice, perhaps a boyfriend. I’m psyching myself out.

  “Melissa, I’ve been a little bit loopy lately,” Grandma confesses, not waiting for me to pick up the pieces of my strategy. She’s taking charge herself. “My boys are concerned about me, and Alan wants to put me in that home you work at.”

  As she speaks, her eyes brighten with tears, and I stop mulling over my broken plan. I had no idea she knew. Has he discussed this with her directly?

  My uncle’s a dead man.

  “No, Little Lady, we never—” I start, but Melissa interrupts without a glance in my direction. As a matter of fact, she hasn’t looked at me since she came in the door.

  “Mrs. Davide.” She squeezes Grandma’s fingers again and smiles. “Don’t you worry. I’m aware of what’s been going on, how you’re not feeling so good sometimes, and I wouldn’t have come today if I didn’t plan on helping you out.”

  A lump sticks in my throat. It really, truly does, and I swallow hard to keep the damn thing down. I grab for my lemonade, unable to speak.

  “Oh, Melissa—you always were so darling,” Grandma says, clasping my ex’s hands. With the love fest evolving around me, I’m hesitant as to what to do next. I need to dig into details—find out when Melissa can start, how long she can stay every day and when. Hopefully, Alan can commit to covering the remaining hours.

  With her behavior, Melissa has made it clear that she’s doing this for Grandma and not me, which makes things easier, so I jump on the first important piece of information we need to discuss. We’ll move on to schedule and salary afterward, I think.