“Hey Mom,” I said, turning around to face her.
She smiled automatically in response to my regained cheerful attitude. To her it was probably a nice break from the sullen teenager vibe I’d been projecting on her for the better part of our vacation. A soon as she registered the new addition to my face, her smile fell.
“What did you do?” she asked, setting her coffee cup on the counter with a loud ‘thunk’ and crossing the five feet to where I was sitting.
“I pierced my nose,” I said, dropping my chin just a little as my confidence faded.
“I can see that,” she said blandly. “What on earth were you thinking?”
Um, I was thinking that I am an incredibly boring person, and it was about time I do something to change that.
“I have a friend who has one, and I thought it was pretty, so I wanted to get one.”
She just shook her head and muttered something about peer pressure.
“What, Mom?” I asked, looking her straight in the eye, almost challenging her to say what she really felt.
I had the sudden urge to remind her that I was twenty-one, and she didn’t really get a say in what I did to my body, but I held my tongue. Her eyes locked with mine, and I almost thought she might say what was on her mind. I wanted her to say something, to start an argument, to make me challenge her, but she didn’t. True to form, she buried her head in the sand. I was ready with my points about how she expected different things from me than my siblings and how she’d never objected to either of their piercings and how she still treated me as if I was a kid. I was ready to fight.
Instead, she just looked at me. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, and I could hear the disappointment oozing from her voice as she turned away from me.
I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already leaving the room, her empty coffee cup forgotten on the counter. I felt like I wanted to vomit. It was always a double-standard with me. It was as if she couldn’t believe that her perfect daughter would do something like get a piercing. I was held to a different standard, and I hated it. I heard her call for Randy and watched her leave out the back, no doubt taking him on a long walk, so she could ponder what a disappointment her oldest daughter was.
Leaving my empty cereal bowl in the sink, I marched back upstairs, the fury coursing through my veins at warp speed, causing me to just grow angrier at my situation. My mother’s disappointment in me only spurred me on to do more that she wouldn’t approve of, challenge the status quo and be bad. I started to think about what other options I had to break free of the mold I’d been in for too long.
I wondered how many other people would be shocked by something as minor as a facial piercing when it was me getting it. I could think of at least ten people I knew who would react in a less than positive way, and I had a feeling Ben would be one of those people, so I didn’t tell him what I’d done. I told myself there was never a good time to bring it up but, but truthfully I could almost hear the question in his voice, and the judgment that would follow, so I held back.
Rachel was the only person I told, and true to form, she was excited that I’d done something so out of my norm. She told me she couldn’t wait to see it. She said she was thinking of getting a tattoo and asked if I would go with her when she visited. Apparently Michael liked them, and she was thinking of doing something radical to surprise him when he returned home at the end of the summer. I hoped she wasn’t changing too much of herself for her new boyfriend. I knew firsthand what it was like to mold yourself into the person other people wanted you to be, and if she was doing that, she would regret it.
Then she suggested inviting Chase with us to get her tattoo, and my mind switched gears, caught off-guard that she would suggest bringing my brother with us when I hadn’t even told her about my newly formed relationship with him. For all she knew, Chase and I were still as distant as we’d always been. When I probed her about it, she just said that since he had tattoos, she thought he might want to go with us, and I found myself questioning why he’d even crossed her mind. Apparently Chase and Rachel had become friendly at some point, but I’d never been looped in. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I brought it up to Chase while we lay on the beach on Saturday. My dad was in town, and he’d taken our mom to play golf, so we were lounging behind the house with Keely, Jared and Molly, enjoying the day, but watching the black clouds that hovered just to the north. There was another big storm expected to hit that night.
I pulled my ear buds out of my ears and poked Chase, who was engrossed in a book by Ayn Rand. Next to him, Molly was asleep under the big umbrella she brought with her every day, claiming that her English skin was allergic to the sun. Ironically Jared and Keely were about twenty feet out in the water swimming and splashing each other. He seemed to have no aversion to the sun. I had a feeling Molly was channeling Gwen Stefani, circa 1996, just a little bit and enjoyed her pale pallor.
“What?” Chase asked curtly, not looking up from his book.
“I have a question,” I said, looking at him over my oversized sunglasses.
“Go ahead.” He still hadn’t looked up.
“When did you and Rachel become friends?”
“We’re not,” he said, more focused on his book than on me.
“She thinks you are. She wanted to see if you’ll come with us so she can get a tattoo when she visits.”
Chase finally looked up from his book. “She’s getting a tattoo?” he asked, and I could see he was having trouble hiding the smirk his lips were curving into.
“Yeah, apparently this guy she’s dating likes them, so she wants to do it to surprise him.”
“Really,” he said, and I could see him mulling that over in his mind. “What of?”
“I’m not sure. We didn’t get that far, but she said something about getting some quote on her rib cage, but she hadn’t figured out what quote she wants.”
I watched Chase swallow and fight the smile that wouldn’t stay off of his lips. “I think that’s kind of hot.”
I kicked sand on his feet. “You would. Ugh, you’re not thinking about hooking up with Rachel, are you?”
Chase shot me a look like I was nuts. “I don’t date sorority chicks.”
“She’s more than a sorority chick, Chase. She’s a really great person. She’s beautiful, and she loves music, she’s cool and funny. You’d be lucky to date her.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Why are you trying to sell me on her if you don’t want me to date her?”
“I’m not. I’m just saying. She’s pretty amazing.”
“She has been looking pretty hot lately, too,” Chase said, setting his book down and stretching out on his towel. “When’s she coming to visit?”
I knew he was just teasing, but I smacked him on the arm anyway.
“Ow,” he said, laughing and rubbing his arm. “What was that for? I just agreed with you.”
“Chase Cole, you’d better keep your hands off my best friend when she comes to visit in a few weeks. She is off-limits,” I said, sitting up and crossing my arms.
He lifted his sunglasses from his eyes, appraising me, “So even though you’ve deemed me a decent guy, I’m not good enough for Rachel?”
“Do you want to be good enough for Rachel?”
“I didn’t say that, but you’re being pretty hypocritical, Emily.”
In desperate need of an out, because I couldn’t really explain why I didn’t think Rachel and Chase dating was a good idea, I thankfully remembered something Molly had shared with me the first night we’d met.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend,” I said, hoping he would bite.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then you shouldn’t be interested in Rachel.”
“Who said I was?!” Chase said, clearly getting exasperated with me.
Yeah, I guess he never really said that outright.
“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
He looked over at me. “Am
y.”
“Amy,” I repeated. “Where did you meet her?”
“New York.”
“When?”
“In the spring.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a student,” he said, with a finality in his voice that told me the conversation wasn’t going any further.
It seemed that although we’d become semi-friends, my brother wasn’t interested in discussing his personal life with me. He was still as secretive as ever, so I settled for being in the dark and went to join Keely and Jared in the ocean.
***
That night as I got dressed to go out, I noticed the wind had started to pick up, rustling the sea grass below my window. Thankfully we weren’t going to the beach, but to a house a few blocks away, because it really looked like it was going to pour any second. I threw my favorite navy blue hoodie on over a white tee and a khaki skirt thinking that I’d want my hood if we got caught in the rain.
Thankfully the rain held off as we made our way down the street in the opposite direction we usually walked. Molly had come over from her place with her cousin Leo who might have been the tallest guy I’d ever met. He was a few years older than us, and I’d talked to him a handful of times, but he was a quiet guy, so he didn’t say much as we walked. He didn’t smoke either, so while Chase and Molly shared a joint, I hung back with Leo, and he told me all about his girlfriend who was home in Pennsylvania for the summer.
It was only a ten minute walk to the party which was at a small house on the beach. Even though it was somewhat early, I could tell a lot of people were already gathered together. As we walked up the stairs, we were greeted by people sitting on the chairs and railings on the front porch and spilling onto the steps. The inside of the house was just as crowded with people in various states of intoxication.
With Molly leading the way, the four of us made our way to the keg in the kitchen, filling up our cups and going our separate ways. Finding myself alone, as usual, I wandered over to the living room where a group of people I knew were playing Drinking Jenga. I stood watching, sipping my beer as I tried to figure out how exactly it was different from the regular Jenga I’d played as a kid.
“You want in, Em,” a guy on summer break from UNC named Byron asked me. He was a sophomore, and I hadn’t met him before that summer, but I knew some of his Sigma Chi frat brothers. We’d played the ‘do you know’ game when we realized we both went to UNC.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
I’d noticed that there were messages written on the little pieces, which indicated what the player had to do after successfully removing the piece from the stack and placing it safely on top again. So far I’d seen people chug a beer, take off a piece of clothing and tell a secret about themselves. I was a little afraid to ask what the person who knocked down the stack of blocks had to do.
“Sit down,” a girl named Tania said, patting the empty seat next to hers, so I sat and waited for my turn.
They’d just started, so only five pieces had been removed and placed back on top. When it was my turn, I selected a safe piece in the middle, pulled it out cleanly, read it and put it back on top.
“What’s it say,” Byron asked, looking at me expectantly. Something told me he’d started drinking a few hours before and was overly excited about everyone else catching up with him.
“Take five sips of beer,” I said, reading the small piece of wood and placing it gently on top of the stack. I then proceeded to take five sips of my beer in quick succession, the bubbles burning slightly as they went down so fast.
Next to me, Tania pulled out a piece and groaned as she read it. “Get everyone at the table new beers,” she said, as she begrudgingly got up and went into the kitchen.
While she was gone, we continued around the table, and I watched as the other players followed the directions on their wooden piece. When it got to the girl next to me, she pulled out a piece and frowned.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking directly at Byron.
He leaned forward across the table to see what she was holding him. “Yes!” he said, pumping his fist in the air. The girl frowned, causing Byron’s face to fall. “Come on, Michelle, it’s not that bad. Give me some credit.”
I leaned forward, trying to read what it said and just made out the words ‘kiss’ and ‘Byron’. I watched as Byron made his way around the table toward Michelle, who was crossing her arms and shaking her head.
“I won’t do it,” she said, pushing her lips together in defiance.
“Michelle,” Byron said, the smile vanishing from his face. “I said I was sorry, okay.”
“What is he sorry for?” I leaned over and asked Tania, who had returned with drinks for everyone. “Writing ‘Kiss Byron’ on the game piece?”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered back. “Michelle and Byron went out for about six months last year. When she broke up with him, he took a pair of her underwear and hung them out his window at the frat house like a flag and told everyone they were hers. She didn’t speak to him for a few months, so this should be very interesting.”
“Michelle, you have to do it,” Byron said. “Game rules. You agreed to them when you sat down.”
“I didn’t know I was going to have to kiss you,” she spat at him.
He shrugged sheepishly, and something made me wonder if he’d put the piece in there on purpose, knowing there was a chance she might pick it. Worst case, some other girl would pick it and he’d get to kiss her. It was very sneaky but somewhat brilliant.
“Rules are rules, Mich,” he said, coming closer to her, as she was leaning back toward me.
“He’s right, Michelle,” Tania said, from my other side.
Michelle shot a glare back at Tania before she turned around to face Byron. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll play by your stupid rules.” With that, she grabbed Byron’s cheeks and forced his face down to hers, pressing her lips hard against his.
I watched Byron wince at how rough she was being. Then, he screamed, “Ow!” and pulled away. “What the hell, Michelle?” he asked, his hand flying to his lower lip where I noticed he was bleeding just a little bit. Michelle had actually bit him.
To my left, she was smiling triumphantly, as if she had won. I knew my eyes were wide as I watched it all unfold. I couldn’t believe she’d actually bitten his lip enough to draw blood. Poor Byron, I thought, as he put a napkin to his lip and slunk back to his seat. He looked genuinely hurt as he looked across the table at Michelle.
“Geez, it was just a pair of panties,” he mumbled from behind the napkin.
“Okay, my turn,” I said, in an effort to break the tension, as everyone around the table seemed to have frozen as they watched the slightly vampiric scene unfold.
I reached forward, pulled out a piece and read what it said. All I saw was the word ‘DARE’. I looked up at Byron, who had the side of his beer can pressed against his lips. His eyes lit up when he saw what it was.
“Oh, you got the dare block. I put a few of them in there to mix things up a bit. The way it works is that the person to your right gets to pick a dare for you to do, and you have to do it,” he explained, mumbling slightly since the can was still covering his lip.
I looked to my right and saw Michelle sitting there with a satisfied smile on her face. She looked over at me, then back at Byron and said, “Oh, this’ll be fun.”
Crap, was all I could think. She’d better not make me kiss Byron’s bloody lip. Gross.
“Okay,” Michelle said, bringing her hands together. “I want you to go over there, tell that guy that you think he’s hot – loud enough so we all can hear – and then kiss him.”
I looked up to where she was gesturing. Thankfully it was in the opposite direction of where Byron was sitting. There were three guys sitting in the living room, so I wasn’t sure who she was referring to. Then I realized that one of them was Cute Coffeehouse Guy and he was staring at me. Great.
“Um, which one were you r
eferring to?” I asked, hoping it was the blond guy next to Coffeehouse Guy.
“Sexy, dark hair, sitting next to the semi-cute blond guy,” Michelle said.
My stomach jumped into my throat. Coffeehouse Guy. Great. Well, at least he didn’t remember who I was. For all he knew, I was just some random girl who was summering here – who thought he had kissable lips. Awesome.
“Okay, fine,” I said bravely, not wanting to earn a lecture from Byron about following the Drinking Jenga rules.
I took a moment to chug the rest of my beer for extra liquid courage, got up from my seat and walked right over to Coffeehouse Guy who was appraising me with a questioning look on his face. Lightening flashed outside the window and thunder rumbled overhead, as if punctuating what I was about to do.
“Hi,” I said. “I have to tell you’re hot, okay.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, giving me a quizzical look.
“You are so hot,” I said, loudly and a little dramatically, causing the people around me to turn their heads, mostly likely wondering if I was drunk and about to make a fool of myself. Then I leaned down, pecked Coffeehouse Guy on the cheek and turned around and walked away before I could see the expression on his face.
I smiled at Michelle as I returned to the table.
She shook her head. “No. That doesn’t count.”
“What?” I asked, thinking she must be smoking crack. I opened my new beer and took a long pull. “Why?”
“Because you had to kiss him on the lips,” she said.
“You didn’t specify,” I said, shooting her a satisfied look that told her I’d already thought of that. She opened her mouth to protest then shut it quickly when she realized I was right.
“Ha, she got you there, Mich,” Byron said, earning a glare from Michelle.
“Whatever,” Michelle said, angrily pushing away from the table and stalking out of the room.
“Thank God,” Byron said when she was gone. “That girl is psycho!”
I laughed, as I’d sort of been thinking the same thing after she’d drawn blood. As we started playing again, I shot a glance back at Coffeehouse Guy and smiled at him. He returned my gesture before looking away again.
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