MOM: No. He didn’t. But Dessy, you’re in Prague. You shouldn’t be thinking about Hamilton.
ME: I thought you liked Hamilton.
MOM: That’s not the point. You’ve got so much potential. Don’t saddle your heart to the first boy you fall for.
ME: But you and dad met in high school.
MOM: (Silence)
ME: Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve hardly thought about Hamilton at all. It mostly happens when I see birds.
MOM: Life is long. You should date.
ME: Yeah. It would be a lot easier if guys weren’t so weird.
MOM: You’re meeting weird guys in Prague? What’s your curfew there?
ME: No. I’m not talking about Prague. In general, I just mean that guys are hard to understand.
MOM: Sorry to tell you this, but it only gets worse.
ME: What?
MOM: Because of the Y chromosome.
ME: Oh, Mom.
MOM: You’re both young. You might find your way back to each other. But you might not. In the meantime, date.
ME: Prague guys?
MOM: No, wait until you get home.
ME: You’re making this sound like a Lifetime movie.
OPERATOR: You have one minute left.
MOM: I love you, Dessy. I think about you all the time. Wait. Your father is right here. He wants to talk to you. He picked up a book about Prague at the library. He’s got a question for you. Here he is.
DAD: Dessy? Are you there?
ME: I’m here. How are you, Dad?
DAD: Well, my sciatica is acting up again. But other than that I can’t complain. I’ve been reading about a castle—
ME: I’ve seen it! It’s right along the river. It’s by the university where I’m going to class.
DAD: Let me tell your mother. Judy, she’s already seen the castle. It’s by her school.
ME: Well, I haven’t taken a tour. My new friend Waller and I will probably go next week.
DAD: Waller? What kind of parent names his daughter Waller?
ME: No, Waller is a guy.
DAD: What? A guy? Is that some sort of gang name?
ME: No, Dad. Waller is from Chicago.
DAD: You’re trying to tell me there’s not gangs in Chicago?
ME: No. I mean, I know that there’s gangs in Chicago. But Waller isn’t in a gang. Waller isn’t his real name. It’s a nickname. It’s short for Walnut. He has a talent.
DAD: I warned your mother this could happen. Judy, she’s met up with a gang kid named Walnut. In Europe!
ME: Dad, don’t tell Mom that. You’ll freak her out. Waller is totally respectable. He’s in college—
DAD: College!
Click
Uh-oh. That wasn’t a very reassuring phone call. For anyone. Why did my father act like that? Didn’t he trust my judgment? I could tell the difference between a decent guy and a cruddy guy. Couldn’t I?
I walked back to the dorm and crouched down outside the hallway window. Coast clear. I swiped my magnetic card and ran for my bedroom door. Veronica had wedged a sock in the doorjamb; the protruding cotton heel was a sign that she was safe inside the room with the window sealed shut. We didn’t dare open the window anymore, unless both of us were in the room. We figured it would be harder to ambush two people at once.
I unlocked our door, raced inside, and slammed the door. Veronica stood on the other side of the room, slowly turning around in front of the full-length mirror.
“How did the conversation go?” she asked. She was dressed in a denim miniskirt that I’d never seen before. It barely covered her butt. And she was wearing a tight pink tank top. She didn’t look trashy, but didn’t look parent-presentable either.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.
“I’m trying to decide what to wear on our date with Scotty Dee,” she said. “I want him to notice my legs. But I also want him to pay attention to my shoulders.”
“Why your shoulders?” I asked.
“I think they’re one of my most mature features. Seriously. Look at them.”
She stretched her arms out wide in front of me and leaned forward to emphasize her shoulders.
“Don’t you think they make me look twenty?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Hey, that skirt is way too short. You should wear jeans.”
“But everybody wears jeans,” she said. She let her arms drop to her side and frowned.
“Can’t you do something normal for once?” I asked. “What if we end up walking a long distance? Or have to jog to catch a cab? You’re wearing clothes that constrain you.”
“That’s not true,” Veronica said.
“Then lift your arms above your head.”
Veronica raised her thin arms over her head, and her skirt lifted up, revealing first the top of her thighs and then her pale yellow underwear.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
I sat down on my bed and closed my eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Veronica sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. “If you hate my clothes that much I’ll go ahead and change.”
“This isn’t about your wardrobe,” I said.
“I know. The thing with Corky is totally wearing on me too. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but last night she stood outside our window for two hours.”
“She did?” I asked. “What was she doing?”
“Arranging rocks.”
I slid Veronica’s arm off me and walked to the window.
Corky had taken small stones and spelled out the words “Return it.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “What does she want us to return?”
Veronica shrugged. “Her dignity. Her sanity. Her liberty. Who knows? In addition to being psycho, Corky is a real mystery.”
“Great,” I said. “But that’s not even why I’m upset.”
“Waller issues?” Veronica asked.
I shook my head.
“A Hamilton flare-up?”
“No. You make heartbreak sound like hemorrhoids.”
“Well, it makes sense. Because they can both burn your ass.”
“Can you just stop being Veronica and be serious for a minute?”
“Yeah, you’re right. What’s wrong?” she asked. “I’m here for you.”
“It’s about my dad. I think you’re right. We don’t connect.”
“Did you talk to him on the phone?” she asked.
“I tried,” I said, “but he brought up his sciatica. And then he got mad when I mentioned Waller.”
“Wait,” Veronica said. “You mentioned Waller? Why?”
“I wanted to tell him what I was doing.”
“No father wants to hear who his daughter is doing.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”
“You two need therapy,” she said.
“That depresses me on many levels. First, we don’t have the money for it. Second, my father would never go.”
“First, that’s only two levels, and you said that it depressed you on many. Second, I don’t know what to tell you. My best advice would be to stop bringing up your sex life with him.”
“Veronica, I’m not having sex with anybody. It’s like you’re not even listening to my problem. You’re just saying whatever is on your mind regardless of what I need to hear.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
We both looked at the door.
“Doesn’t it bother you that we can no longer open our door for fear that Corky the Maniac could be waiting on the other side?” I asked.
“Of course that bothers me,” Veronica said. “That’s why I always ask you to open the door.”
“Well, I’m not doing it this time.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll get on the floor and look under the crack.”
Veronica got on her stomach and pressed her face right up to the doorjamb.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Toes,” Veronica said.
“You see b
are feet?” I asked. “Do they appear Corkylike in any way?”
“They have hair on them,” she said.
“Gross.”
“Is anybody in there?” a male voice asked.
“It still could be Corky,” I said.
I didn’t know if she was an expert at disguising her voice, but I wouldn’t have put it past her.
“We can’t live like prisoners,” Veronica said. “God! Screw Corky! This is my door and I’m opening it.”
I covered my ears and watched as Veronica dramatically yanked on the knob.
It was Waller! I quit holding my head and waved.
“Hey,” he said, waving back. “Is everything okay in here? I thought I heard yelling.”
“I was reading my story out loud,” Veronica said.
“You yell ‘Screw Corky’ and ‘This is my door’ in your story?” Waller asked. Then he winked at me. Then he did a double take when he saw Veronica’s man- wall.
Veronica jumped onto her bed and held up her arms, trying to conceal some of the hot-dudes.
“Is that a map?” Waller asked. “Of guys?”
“No,” Veronica said. “I’m plotting something. For my story.”
“Right,” Waller said, giving Veronica a slight nod.
“Moving on,” Veronica said, stepping down off her bed and turning Waller’s body away from the man-wall. “What brings you to the girl wing of the dorm? And, more precisely, what brings you to room 106?”
My heart nearly stopped when Waller pointed to me.
“The guys and I wanted to drive up to Kutná Hora. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we’ve got some extra space in the car.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah, do you two want to come?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Kutná what?” Veronica asked.
“They’re going to this cathedral outside of town,” I said.
I didn’t want Waller to explain it, because if he made it sound boring, I knew Veronica wouldn’t go. And we’d been given a double invitation. Both of us had been asked. And it seemed risky to try to convert it into a single invitation. That would sound like I was being way too eager to make it a date.
Veronica sat down on her bed. “How long would we be gone?”
Her date with Scotty Dee wasn’t until late. We’d be back in plenty of time. I couldn’t believe she was asking that.
“We’ll be back by late afternoon. You two will make a good buffer,” Waller said. “Things are still a little tense between me and the guys.”
“Duh,” Veronica said. “What did you expect when you balded Frank?”
“Frank isn’t going,” Waller said.
“I guess that makes sense,” Veronica said.
“So we’ll see you guys tomorrow?” Waller said.
“Yeah,” I said.
I couldn’t stop smiling, even after he left.
Veronica took her skirt off and stood in her underwear in front of the mirror.
“So you’re forgoing pants entirely?” I asked.
She ignored the question and turned around to look at her butt. “I sort of don’t like Waller anymore.”
“Really?” I asked. This surprised me, because I was liking him more and more.
“He ruined Frank for me,” she said. “Because not only is Frank bald, but he’s also bitter. And I don’t find that emotion attractive.”
“If he wasn’t bitter, do you think you could look past the baldness?”
Veronica pulled on a pair of jeans. Then she stuck out her tongue and released a puff of air, imitating the sound of a fart.
“Probably not,” she said. “Looking at him before made me feel horny. Now it’s like staring at my dumpy-looking Uncle Terry’s head.”
“That’s harsh,” I said. I’d met her Uncle Terry.
“I need to be honest with myself. Frank isn’t a hot-dude anymore.”
I watched Veronica walk to her man-wall and tear Frank off with a quick pull.
“You’re taking him off the man-wall?” I asked. I hadn’t realized hot-dudes were removable.
Veronica held the paper Frank in her hand and tore his head off his body. Then she slapped the newly beheaded hot-dude back on the wall.
“Frank is a compromised hot-dude now. And I think his paper depiction should reflect that.”
Veronica sounded very somber. She returned to her mirror and smoothed her jeans. “In other somewhat related terrible news, I’m out of crazy-cute clothes,” she said. “And I need more.”
I didn’t waste my time offering to let her borrow some of mine. I didn’t own anything “Veronica” enough.
Veronica bent over and aggressively fluffed her hair. Several weak strands snapped and drifted to the floor. When she finished and flipped her head back up, her hair didn’t look large and exaggerated. She appeared ready to do a photo shoot for a magazine cover. She was awesome.
“I bet Corky calms down in five days,” she said.
“Really?” I liked the idea of that.
“And I bet Waller kisses you in Kutná Hora.”
“No!” I said.
“Yes!” Veronica answered.
I thought of Waller’s lips closing in on mine in a cathedral.
“He won’t kiss me in front of everyone,” I said.
Veronica smiled and shook her head. “I know. He’s going to say he wants to show you something. Then he’s going to lead you around a corner. Then he’s going to look both ways. Then he’s going to lean in and say something sweet. Then he’s going to move his mouth slowly toward yours. Also, after a few light presses there will probably be some tongue.”
“Really?” I asked.
It had taken Hamilton a whole month of kissing before he’d slipped me any tongue. To be honest, I think I was the one who slipped it to him.
“God,” she said. “You’re so lucky I’m going. I’ll be a diversionary tactic for you. I’ll keep the other guys busy and give you the space you need to conquer your new man.”
“Wow,” I said. “Thanks. So you really think this is going to happen?”
“He came to our dorm room and practically asked you to be his girlfriend.”
I blushed.
“I hope things can go half this good with Scotty Dee. By the way, we can’t spend all afternoon at Kutná Hora. We need to be back in time so that I can get ready for our Aussie date. He’s my new number one hot-dude. And I’ll need adequate time to primp.”
“You’ll have time.” I said.
“I better. Or I’m hitchhiking back.”
She slipped off her tank top and put on a tight white T-shirt. Then she fluffed her hair again, and pulled out a bottle of hairspray.
“I want to see what happens when I volumize around my roots,” she said.
A pungent odor filled the room. I opened the window in an attempt to create breathable air. That’s when I spotted the tops of Mrs. Knox’s and Corky’s heads exiting the dorm through the back door.
“It’s your mother,” I said. “With Corky!”
Veronica joined me at the window. Mrs. Knox and Corky were walking off.
“We have to tell your mom that Corky is crazy!” I said.
Veronica shook her head. “Corky isn’t going to hurt my mom. She worships her. Haven’t you noticed how she kisses her butt every class? She’s a classic suck-up. They don’t make them any suckier.”
“Brownnosing is one thing, but going out socially is a different ballgame,” I said.
“Really, unless we plan on telling my mom the whole Corky story—my wild night out, what I found on her computer, yada, yada, yada—our hands our tied.”
“So we’re just going to let this happen?” I asked, gesturing out the window. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
Veronica kicked off her sturdy leather walking sandals and stepped into her unstable black platform sandals.
“Ever since my dad walked out, everything my mom does bothers me.”
“W
hat if Corky tells your mom horrible lies about you and tries to really wreck your life?” I asked.
“Corky is a very temporary fixture in my life. As long as she doesn’t kill me, or turn me into an amputee, she’ll be out of my hair at the end of the month.”
I didn’t think that Veronica seemed as unhinged as she should have been. I gave her a panicked look.
“I’m seventeen,” she said. “I’m not supposed to get along with my mother. There’s supposed to be a ton of dissonance. It’s basically required. I read all about it in that book on the plane. Examining the Triad: Mother, Father, Daughter.”
“You really read a book on the plane?” I asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I learned a lot. Even about you.”
“You did?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re doomed. But I’m doomed too. It’s called the parent/gender triad tragedy. Simply put, guys want to marry their mothers but continue to sleep with whores. And girls want to track down younger versions of their fathers and fix them. And if you have a disinterested dad you’re extra doomed.”
“That seems way too simple and terrible,” I said. “Did you read the whole book or just the table of contents?” Sometimes Veronica only made it that far.
“I read the whole thing. Listen, I know it’s a bummer,” Veronica said. “But it explains a lot. The book also gave me insight into why I can’t get along with my mother until I’m out of college and mature.”
I didn’t challenge her any further. Again, she had a valid point. Mother-daughter relationships were notoriously fraught with tension, particularly during the teenage years. But Veronica looked so miserable about it.
“Screw the Corkster. Let’s go. We’ve got a whole world out there to experience,” she said.
She shoved some money into her pocket and pulled me toward the door. And then we were gone. Out the door. Out of the dorm. Onto the crowded sidewalk. Swallowed by Prague and her powerful heat.
A Field Guide for Heartbreakers Page 17