by Angela White
Georgie’s displeasure faded into a smirk. “Guess you’ve got the day off.”
He steered me toward the rear door with a sharp slap to my butt. “Stay out of trouble, will ya?”
Grateful despite the slap, I took off just as Snow slammed through swinging doors, looking like a wet dog. Now I just needed an excuse to miss the next month.
When I woke up the next morning with a rash and a fever, I was delighted that I wouldn’t have to go in and face her. Snow would still be just as mad today.
The fever and rash got worse over the next week and I had to go to the emergency room. Georgie said I was screaming in my sleep, but I didn’t remember anything after the third day. I’d been miserable before I passed out. That time, the darkness had been a cool relief from the burning itch.
The chicken pox swept through our school and neighborhood for the next month. The adults were positive that it had come from someone who’d been here because of the tornado, but I couldn’t help remembering the rash I’d felt on the man that I’d helped. The adults had said it had to be spread by a kid, that grownups didn’t get chicken pox, so I wasn’t certain enough to speak up. Besides, other than the itching, it really wasn’t so bad once they started giving me the medicine. I even got two more weeks off work and school and it cleared up in time for us to attend the mandatory Thanksgiving gathering at mother Brady’s house. I felt blessed.
When we arrived, however, I found out Marc now had the chickenpox and wouldn’t be joining the rest of us for dinner. Besides being disappointed, I also felt guilty. I was sure that I was the one who had infected him. When he’d come to the clubhouse that day, I had hugged him right after touching the stranger. It was hard to sit downstairs knowing that I was the reason he was sick, but I did my best to act normal and not draw attention. The last thing we needed was for anyone to become aware of our friendship. I didn’t realize someone already was.
Marc
“Am I dying?”
Mary frowned at me, as I lay there sweating and shivering at the same time.
“The doctors weren’t sure at first. They say you’ll live now.”
I was relieved to hear it, but too miserable to be happy. I only wanted two things right now and neither was under my control. The shivering would have to go away as I healed and there was no way I could ask for Angie to come up and visit me. Deflated, I turned my head toward the window to stare at the dying leaves. If I were about to croak over, my mother wouldn’t tell me. She’d probably lied and this was my last day.
“Why don’t you want to talk to Jeanie? She’s called twice a week, like a good girl should.”
“Just let me die if that’s what’s happening,” I forced out around my pity. “It’s better than this life anyway.”
I must have sounded bad off because she heaved a huge sigh and rose from the corner of my bed.
“I simply can’t take this anymore. What will it take for you to get well? What do you need to pull out of this and move on?”
She’d shot down my idea of being a Marine right after I’d helped with the tornado. My getting deathly ill from a reaction to the chicken pox hadn’t been planned. What was she talking about?
Seeing my confusion, she left the room, slamming the door.
I was glad she was gone so that I could adjust positions and groan without her scolding me for being weak. She had no idea how bad I felt and it sucked even more than it normally would have because Angie was downstairs. We’d only had two short moments this year and it wasn’t nearly enough. Most of the time, Jeanie was an unsatisfying substitute.
The only area she had covered was sex. She kept my needs covered and then some. For my birthday this year, she was supposed to give me the works, whatever that was, but I’d thought of a few ways to avoid it. The first time I went all the way, which is what I assumed she meant, I wanted it to be my idea.
The house below rang with subdued laughter and life that I wanted to be a part of for a change and frustration burned in my gut. Normally, I would have been glad for time alone, but not today. Today, every chuckle and clink of silverware reminded me that I was missing my last chance to see her again for a long time. I might make it back from the next tour for Easter, but that would only be a quick stop for the holiday and mandatory gathering. The rest of the year would be spent finishing school and traveling with the uncles to the various venues that bought our ‘other’ products. I would finally get to learn what our secret product was and make more money, but I would be gone for six months. I really didn’t want to leave at all this time, and it wasn’t just because of Angie. I had a slowly growing business here now. All the old customers on my route that had been so happy to have me return from the city tour were once again in the neglectful hands of Rodney and Scot. I hated not having that income source to depend on for the future, but I was too sick to do it. At moments like this, it didn’t matter. I was miserable enough to welcome death if he came.
Something creaked outside the door.
It sent a fresh chill up my spine and restarted the shivers that had begun to calm. I huddled under the damp blankets, waiting for it to pass.
“Marc?”
Angie’s voice brought me up too fast and I coughed violently, trying to get air. The reaction I’d had was so severe because I had the chicken pox on the inside, where it could do serious damage and was impossible to treat with ointments.
Angie hurried over, but I waved her off. If she healed me, my mother would know.
Angie ignored my protests and slid onto the bed next to me. Her eyes changed to a vivid violet. “Just a little.”
I arched in pain as she took my swollen hand and my lids closed at the sensation of being drawn through a small tube.
When it stopped, I was too drowsy to keep my eyes open and I fell into the grayness with her name on my lips and her vanilla scent in my nose.
Angie
I slipped from the room in confusion, not lingering even though there was nothing more I wanted than to care for him.
I’d been going to the kitchen to refill a pitcher of tea when one of the house servants had reluctantly touched my arm and pointed toward the top of the stairs. Not about to miss the opportunity, I’d followed Marc’s misery to his room. Now, I wondered why the houseman had directed me there. Did the man know I could help Marc? If so, we were in a lot of trouble.
I watched out for the man as the family gave thanks and ate, but I didn’t see him again until it was time to leave. He was holding the front door open for everyone.
We all came outside together and in the din of fake goodbyes and promises to visit that were blatant lies, the Indian houseman subtly nodded upward.
I found Marc at the window of his room, a smile on his pale face.
I gave a tiny wave and climbed into the car before we were spotted. There were things I wanted to say, but I was too tired to make a mental connection. I settled for a funny face through the foggy window as we pulled out, causing him to smile again. It was the best I could do.
In my weariness, I missed his thoughts about being gone for half a year or longer. I should have known by the way mother Brady smirked the next day in the restaurant, or by how there was no Christmas gift at the clubhouse. But I didn’t, and when the time continued to pass without word, I grew very lonely. Then, I heard that Marc and Jeanie had danced at Christmas, that he’d held her hand and told her she looked nice. I walked around with sunglasses hiding puffy eyes for days. I’d healed him so he could go be with someone else. Jeanie was good girl, a mother Brady girl. I would never fit into that life and Marc would never be able to escape it.
From that realization on, the feeling that we were doomed followed me like a bad penny.
1994
Marc: age 16
Angie: age 13
Chapter Twelve
January to August
Marc
In the spring of 1994, my mother decided I needed a license and a car. I wanted that badly, but I sneakily hadn’t demanded
it for my birthday in December. For Four months, I pretended that I had no interest in a vehicle. Because I didn’t take the bait, my mother shoved it in my mouth, just like I’d thought she would. Instead of begging for my freedom and having to agree to her terms, I came home to find a Buick with a blue ribbon on the hood and keys in the ignition. Her only terms now were no wrecks, no drinking and driving, and obeying my curfew. I agreed easily since those were all things I’d planned to do anyway.
I learned to drive on our backward country roads in preparation for the test. Douglas was given the task of instructing me and we spent hundreds of hours flying down 128 while both of us screamed, though not for the same reasons. Douglas was always relieved when the lesson was over. He said I was a combination of Mario Andretti and Evel Knievel.
I loved being behind the wheel, the magic that I could do with a car, the freedom it would provide. A vehicle was the first big step in getting out of here, concrete proof that time was going by even when it didn’t feel that way.
As I pulled into my mother’s driveway that April with my license and my used blue Buick, it had surprised me to realize that I wasn’t as eager to leave Harrison anymore.
It instantly hurt to think that I was doing what Larry had–accepting my fate.
To prove that I was still as wild as any other sixteen-year-old was, I hit the gas and ran over my mother’s precious rose bushes.
Repeatedly.
Now, sliding into the passenger seat of Jeanie’s spicy red car, I was sorry that I’d done something so stupid. When Jeanie drove, we had to make multiple stops and she liked to multitask to the point of danger. Applying lipstick while going around a curve was showing off in my book. I’d mentioned that to my mother when she grounded me from my car, but she hadn’t cared. Those rose bushes had been in front of our home for a long time.
“Hi!” Jeanie bubbled, as usual scanning the windows to see if Mary was watching.
Why did it always feel as if Jeanie was one of my mother’s spies?
“Hi. Good day at school?” I asked, giving her the expected peck on the cheek in greeting. I tried not to make a face at the heavy fumes coming from her. She didn’t believe in a spritz. She wanted her flowery scent to be detected in other countries.
Jeanie shrugged, shifting into drive. “The medical classes will be a bitch. They’ll make this morning’s chem. test look easy.”
That told me she hadn’t done well and I offered polite condolences. Inside, I wondered how long this date would take from my free time. I didn’t know how long I’d be home for this visit and I definitely didn’t want to spend it with Jeanie. The last four months on the farm had been cold and lonely.
“Say, do you mind if we swing by Woolworths? They have the best ice cream.”
I shrugged to show my indifference, silently groaning. I was wishing something would interrupt us when the tornado siren began to wail.
Now covered in goosebumps, I took note of the murky sky. Pale green light behind gray and black clouds was never good.
“Is this Wednesday?”
“No,” Jeanie answered nervously, slowing down as heavy rain fell. It hadn’t even been drizzling when she picked me up.
The storm we expected didn’t come though, and the siren faded. Jeanie got us rolling again at high speed and I tuned-in the radio for an update. I hadn’t spotted a funnel cloud, but the siren meant one had been spotted.
The news covered Tonya Harding, the Northridge earthquake cleanup, and rumors of a baseball strike, but I’d missed the weather report. I flipped the radio off as we pulled into the small strip mall. Woolworths was in the center, between Sears and Toys R Us.
Jeanie parked in front of the store so she wouldn’t have to get soaked. Before I could come around and escort her like I usually did, she darted toward the protection of the businesses, leaving me to close her door.
Sighing, I slammed it and hurried toward the shop that my mother had declared off limits. This was where the poor people often found bargains and she didn’t want me to mingle with them. I’d made it a point of coming here for the last few years just to prove that I wasn’t a snob. And they honestly did have the best ice cream.
Proving that I’d been successful in my rebellion, the flirty clerk began scooping out my usual desert before she even asked Jeanie what she wanted. That didn’t go over well with my center of the limelight girlfriend. How could my mother have ever thought she was a match for me?
Jeanie huffily ordered a complicated sundae while I sipped my coke and dragged my spoon through chocolate sauce. I’d actually wanted strawberry, but it was better this way. There was no chance of getting lost in the past with Jeanie studying me, ready to report my behavior.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Jeanie said suddenly, swiveling toward me on the stool. “Should I tell your mother you still aren’t feeling well?”
Nice to have that suspicion confirmed, I thought darkly, saying, “No.”
It had taken a full month for Mary to let me out of the house after the chicken pox, despite what Angie had done. I’d been stir crazy. And so lonely!
For some reason, I couldn’t think about much but Angie and the future these days. The bond we shared had strengthened when she saved me from the farmer’s dog, but this time, it wasn’t good. Over the rest of the miserable Thanksgiving, I’d had my first wet dream and it scared me. In the dream, instead of rubbing against Jeanie, it had been Angie under me. At twelve!
I was being forced to accept the bonds between us, but I was still able to separate right from wrong and not cross any lines that would damn me. The guilt had finally grown strong enough to cause trouble and I had to stay away from her until I had these feelings under control. That meant not being in the dark any longer about the whole sex thing. I wanted to wait, to save it for Angie now that I could admit (to myself) I wanted her that way, but these emotions! All Jeanie had to do was press her lips to mine after that dream and I hardened like superglue.
“Are you going out with someone else?”
Jeanie’s question startled me back into the present and I scowled at her. “What?”
“I mean it,” Jeanie complained, without her usual whiny tones. “I know you’re not into me the way some of my other...friends are.”
“That’s why I don’t care if you have other friends. We talked about this already.”
“Yeah, but we agreed to make it appear like we’re being faithful and I have.”
“I’m not going out with anyone else,” I repeated dully.
“Do you want to be?”
I had to lie and say no, but at that moment, I just couldn’t.
“Yes.”
Jeanie considered that for a moment and then asked, “Is it me or your mother in the way?”
“Both,” I answered honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re a good girl who does what she’s told, and apparently, so am I.”
Jeanie didn’t know what to say to my bitter sarcasm and we finished our ice cream in tense silence broken only by the door buzzer and the announcer on the intercom.
As we stepped outside to find a beautifully blue sky, Jeanie put a hand on her hip. “Are you gonna fool around with me later?”
I shrugged, thinking, not if I can avoid it. You stink in every way.
As Jeanie grew older, she got uglier. Her nose had become pointed and her cheeks puffed out like a blow fish. Her breasts had gotten a little bigger, which was a plus, but then so had her butt and I was forever hearing about her newest diet.
Reading it all on my face, Jeanie tossed her platinum braid over her shoulder and stuck her nose in the air. “Then our date has ended. You can find your own way home, right?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer and I didn’t stop her from driving off.
Neither of us waved.
I stood on the sidewalk outside Woolworths for about five minutes, trying to decide what to do. In the end, I chose nothing. Jeanie was a skank. She was lucky that I stayed with her. If not for my
mother, I would have dumped Jeanie for cheating right after we first started going out. She hadn’t told me she had other boyfriends at the time. I’d thought we would be exclusive. Scot and Rodney had clued me in, another strike for her since it had given them fresh ammunition to use in their constant attempts to drag me down to their sleazy level.
Pushing Jeanie out of my thoughts, I surrendered to temptation and went to the main street, to the payphone. With about twelve dollars in my pocket, I called a taxi and had it take me as far as the money would go. The driver didn’t recognize me and I didn’t tell him who I was so that I could get the ride for free. Most of the time, it was better that no one knew where I was going.
When the money ran out, I jogged and walked to the neighboring town to get what I wanted. These items, I would put on my mother’s account.
By the time I arrived, hours later, I was hoping to run into anyone I knew so that I could get a ride. I couldn’t run for very long without stopping now, thanks to the damn pox and I needed to improve that. My mother’s disapproval of the Marines had been expected, and I hadn’t paid attention, other than to bob my head and nod in the right places. When I turned eighteen, she couldn’t stop me. Only my feelings for Angie were in the way, but I now believed I could have both.
I lingered outside the hardware store in Cleves until a neighbor came through and hitched a ride to the entrance of the trailer park. Fighting the need to tell Angie I was here, I went to the clubhouse. I planned to put in a few hours on the clubhouse, and then I would repair the damage to my mother’s rose bushes to get my car back. After that, I had to make a trip into the city. I’d never gone to Cincinnati on my own, but I had to this time. Douglas would never take me to the Marine recruiting office. I was positive that my mother had already forbidden it.
I had no idea if the people running the office would be okay with teenagers asking questions, but I had to find out if I could balance a wife and deployment. Men had been doing that for hundreds of years, right?