Not the Girls You're Looking For

by Aminah Mae Safi

  “Ball’s in your court, Lulu Saad.” He took her hand.

  “Resisting a lot of ball-related humor right now,” said Lulu.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging lightly at her hand, like she could let go and not follow at any time. “I want my own bag of beignets.”

  Lulu let him lead her into the shop, like she didn’t mind being pulled along at all.

  26

  The Tenth Day

  Today was Ashura, and that meant today could not be a good day. Thirteen hundred years ago was a tragedy. Today was a tragedy. Lulu ought to have been used to distant-but-related tragedy by now, but she still wasn’t. It was a senseless bombing. Not that Lulu had ever heard of a sensible bombing. It was Ashura, and it would not be a good day.

  It had started out as days usually do—with morning first followed by afternoon then evening. It was a day Lulu held her breath during. She could have fasted. She could have refrained from many things—food, water, swearing, sex. But instead, she stopped breathing. She held her breath and walked through the day. She was a few days shy of her birthday, so she couldn’t give blood. She could only tense up and wait. Crying was for holidays everyone else understood. There were places to cry about cultural memories. School was not one of those places.

  It was evening by the time Lulu could process the news. And when she did, the first thing she did was run upstairs to her computer. She turned it on and heard the slow whirl of her machine booting to life. She clicked and she waited and she clicked and she waited. Finally, her e-mail was up. She found the one from Rana. The one she had never answered.

  I hope you are safe. I hope you are well. I hope Amu and Auntie are well. I think about you always. Love, Lulu.

  She clicked send before she could think better of it. Before she could think about what it would mean to not get an e-mail back right away. She simply logged off. That was all she could do. Send out messages into the void, and hope they were returned as promptly as possible.

  And then, Lulu turned off her computer. And then she cried.

  She wasn’t sure why she cried. Whether it was for those who died on this day or those who died thirteen hundred years ago. They died in the same place, all of them. Same place, separated only by time. Millennia of time, but still, only time. She cried because she was not there, and she cried because in all likelihood she would never be there. She cried because so few things seemed to belong to her, but for some reason this was one of them.

  And then, Lulu finally took a deep breath. Her tears settled. She wiped them away. She went to the bathroom and cleaned off her face. The cool water stung, all while making the most satisfying swish of a noise as it splashed across her face. Pilgrims had become martyrs—today was unfortunately the day for that.

  Lulu was neither.

  And in that moment, Lulu was resolved. Perhaps a rapid decision, or a rash one. But it was the quick explosion at the end of a long fuse. She couldn’t prove this kind of thing to anyone. But she knew it for herself. She knew she didn’t want to wait. Didn’t want to live her life not trusting, with her tongue cut out and with armor around her heart. Perhaps because her revenge was in sight. Perhaps because the violence of the day reminded her that life was short and she must live her own as she ought. Perhaps she needed to take her own advice, like she’d given Emma. She needed to live life by her own rules. She needed to trust her own judgment.

  Lulu walked downstairs.

  Her mother stood in the kitchen. “The decorations look pretty for Tanya’s wedding.” She was clearly trying to distract from the day’s sad news.

  “They do, don’t they?” said Lulu. She was shoring up her courage.

  “Auntie Farrah sent me photos. Tanya picked pretty designs for the centerpieces.”

  “She did, didn’t she?” said Lulu. Her courage was faltering, considering how decisive she had felt not minutes before. Her mother was still intimidating. Especially when Lulu considered what she was about to ask for.

  “Lulu.”

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Lord preserve me. You are such a contrary child, and I can’t even blame your daddy because you get it from me.”

  Lulu maintained a wide-eyed expression. “Contrary?”

  “For fuck’s sake. Stop asking parroting questions,” said her mother. “Out with it. What do you want?”

  “I wanna go to the clinic.”

  “The what?”

  “Or the gynecologist. I wanna go to the women’s clinic. For birth control.”

  “Jesus, Lulu.” Her mother reached for the cross that was no longer around her neck. She promptly sat on the nearest surface she could find. “I’m going to go gray early because of you.”

  “Then you can dye your hair blue like Mimi did. Blue is very in right now.”

  Aimee pointed her finger solidly. “Don’t you dare, Lulu. Don’t you dare.”

  “I hate that you don’t trust me anymore!” shouted Lulu, the full force of her feelings coming to a head.

  “You got your car locked up in a plant shop! You’re asking for birth control on a random Tuesday! You won’t tell me why! Probably for some boy you’re sneaking around with!” And then, much more quietly, “Trust is earned, baby girl.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll never live that one down.” Lulu squared her shoulders. “I’m trying to be responsible, Mom.”

  “Really? Because I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t,” said Lulu, with ruthless honesty.

  Aimee stared. “That’s a lot to take in, Lulu.”

  “What, so I can only want to have sex with boys who are my boyfriends?”

  Her mother wiped her hand across her face. “Lulu. I was raised Catholic. In the South. Please give your mama a minute.”

  Lulu watched the war on Aimee’s face. Between progress and safety. Between what she had been trained to do and the kinds of freedoms she had never had but wanted for her daughter.

  It softened Lulu, a little. “I like him. But he’s not my boyfriend. He could be. But I’m okay that he’s not.”

  Her mother sighed. “Have I even met him, Lulu?”

  “Do you mean, ‘Is he good people?’” said Lulu, in her twangiest of twangs.

  Her mother gave Lulu a stern look.

  “You’ve met him, Mama. He held back my hair when I was puking that one time.”

  Her mother groaned. “Of course. Of course it’s that boy. Lulu Saad, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “You survived Ben, Mama. You can survive me.” Lulu breathed in aggressive little spurts. But she wasn’t finished, not yet. “I showed up every goddamn day of break at the Alkatis’ for the wedding decorations. I didn’t whine. I didn’t complain. I let them be cliquey the whole time. I let it go. You’re the one not moving on.

  “I want birth control because I want to be ready. I don’t know if he’s my boyfriend. I don’t know if he wants to have sex with me.” That Lulu realized, was a stretch, but she plowed through the rest of her speech, not knowing when the confidence she felt would run dry. “I want to know I’m ready for myself. And I’m not sneaking around. I told Baba about him. I went to the movies with him.”

  Lulu was out of words.

  “I see.” Her mother stared. Then, “Fine.”

  “What?” Lulu shook her head out. She must have heard wrong.

  “Fine. I’ll go to the gynecologist with you.” Her mother went over to the little forest-green Rolodex she left in a corner of the kitchen. It had to have been at least thirty years old, that creaky, plastic thing. She flipped through it. She started writing on a sticky note. She handed the note to Lulu. “Here. Make the appointment. And remember, if you break my trust again, it will be beyond repair. Do you understand me? Not for a long while.”

  Lulu held out her hand. “Shake on it?”

  “Jesus Christ. Fine.” Her mother took Lulu’s hand and shook. “You drive a hard bargain.”

 
; Lulu shrugged as she started to walk out of the kitchen. “I learned from the best.”

  Her mother called after her. “Make sure to put the appointment in the calendar.”

  The family calendar. That lived in the kitchen. Aimee Saad did not fuck around.

  * * *

  A week later, Aimee picked Lulu up from the carpool lane. Lulu got in the car quietly.

  “You sure about this?” her mother asked as Lulu buckled herself in.

  “Sure,” said Lulu as the metal clicked in through the plastic.

  “All right.” Her mother put the car into gear. They rode in silence.

  Once inside the exam room, Lulu nestled her feet into the stirrups. Her mother was waiting outside, so Lulu could have her appointment on her own. Lulu wanted to text Lo and tell her that she was wearing a paper gown and her bare feet were nestled into fuzzy stirrups that had definitely seen better days. She was cold. She wanted to snap a picture and send it to Audrey, the worry etching lines across her face. Audrey’s judgment would help in a moment like this. It would steel her. Lo might tell her what to expect. She missed them both so much in the moment. She had an acute pang in her chest. She sent a snap of her face to Emma, who sent a concerned selfie back.

  Lulu took a deep breath. None of them were here right now. She couldn’t message Lo, and she couldn’t chat with Audrey. And Emma’s apprehensive look hadn’t helped Lulu much, either. Judgment, knowledge, abrasion—those were Lulu’s current list of requirements. She tapped her foot in the stirrups and looked over on the counter. The speculum did not look particularly inviting. She looked away. A knock rapped at the door.

  “Ready,” said Lulu.

  The doctor walked in, washing her hands in the room’s sink. She was in her late thirties, maybe. She wore practical hair and practical shoes. She had a kind face. “How are we doing today?” The doctor flipped through her charts. “Leila?”

  “Great. Fine,” said Lulu. “Great.”

  “Great,” said the doctor. “So what are we in for?”

  “Um.” Lulu wiggled her toes, letting them grip the fuzzy fabric. “Checkup. And. Birth control. I would like birth control.”

  The doctor flipped through her chart one more time. “All right, Leila. We can do that. Are you sexually active?” The doctor sat and wheeled over on her little stool toward Lulu.

  “No,” said Lulu. “Not yet.”

  The doctor started a breast exam. Her hands were frigid. “All right, Leila. I don’t technically need to do a full pap with the speculum yet. But it’s good to get a baseline on your tests, if you want. Totally up to you.”

  “All right,” said Lulu, still holding in a yelp from the doctor’s cold hands.

  The doctor rolled her stool back to her desk, its wheels squeaking against the linoleum floor. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, grabbed the speculum, and returned. “Might be a little pinch, all right. Deep breath.”

  Lulu took a deep breath. In went the speculum. The sensation was cold. Out came a swab. Lulu tensed, waiting for pain that never quite arrived. Her feet were cold. She was seminaked. And now the inside of her vagina was cold. She didn’t know quite what to do with that information.

  “All done,” said the doctor, inserting the cotton swab into a plastic tube. She snapped off her latex gloves and wheeled over to her station one last time. She flipped through Lulu’s chart. Then she scribbled. She held a small slip of paper.

  “I’m prescribing low-dose Ortho Tri-Cyclen. Side effects should be mild. But call my office if you experience any intense versions of adverse side effects—nausea, tender breasts, headaches are pretty normal, but if they’re unmanageable you call. If you have unexpected or serious mood swings—you call. You’re going to need to take this at the same time every day. So set an alarm. You need to take it in the same two-hour window, or it’s not as effective. The last seven pills are only reminders; they’re basically sugar pills. And you’re going to need to use a secondary form of birth control for the first month. If you get sick and take an antibiotic you might also need to use a secondary form of birth control. You should experience lighter periods. If you miss a pill, take it when you remember it, but remember to use a secondary form of birth control for the rest of the month. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Lulu.

  “Do you have any questions?” asked the doctor.

  “No,” said Lulu.

  The doctor nodded. “Call the office if you think of any questions. Either I or one of my nurses can help you out. We can also talk about switching birth control if you don’t like the way your body reacts to this one. All right?”

  “All right,” said Lulu.

  The doctor handed her the small slip of paper—Lulu’s prescription. “Take this to the front when you pay. Have a great day, Leila. See you next time.”

  “Bye,” said Lulu lamely.

  The doctor left her alone in her paper gown in the cold room. Lulu scrambled off the chair and got into her clothes. She took a deep exhale. She’d done it. She felt oddly vulnerable and oddly invincible.

  She had one thing to take care of, before she talked to James. She had to go see about a boy.

  27

  Mess with the Bull, You Get Bit by a Shark

  Lulu was waiting. She had a plan. She had her confederates—Emma had additionally pitched in by offering Diana’s help. Lulu appreciated that. Both the offer and Diana’s acceptance. And three, three was a good number of conspirators. Fewer, and Lulu would worry that the plot would be overly repetitive. Too much of a pattern. Lulu would have preferred four, even five of them. But she was still working on that part of the plan. So Lulu waited, as the slips were passed to the front office at an undisturbed pace. Enough to be believable, not so much as to arouse suspicion. She was not made for inaction, but if ever there was a time for it, it was now.

  Exactly three weeks into her plan, Dane Anderson was called into the office during French class. He did not return. Lulu did her best to keep her features placid. It was a good sign. But no time to gloat. And no longer the time to turn back. The only way out of this mess was forward.

  At lunch, the crowds still whispered, but Lulu had grown accustomed to ignoring it. Lo was still conspicuously absent from the dining hall, but Lulu had to ignore that as well. At least for now. Not that Lo would have sat with Lulu. Not that Lulu had stopped texting the words I’m sorry to Lo. It was partly a plan of erosion and partly a hope that her ploy would draw Lo in like gravity. So far, nothing. But Lulu wasn’t prepared to give up. She wasn’t particularly good at waiting, but she was trying, and that was better than not trying at all.

  Today, Lulu sat by Emma and Diana. Lulu was taking a large, luxurious bite of her slice of dining hall pizza when she saw Audrey startle into the room. Their eyes locked. Lulu swallowed her bite and put down her slice. Audrey squared her shoulders and, with a few false starts and a couple of run-ins with some unaware underclassmen, made her way over to their table.

  Audrey reached out and touched Lulu’s shoulder. Lulu froze. Their table went silent.

  Audrey cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. That was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry. For all of it. Lots of things.”

  “It was shitty,” said Lulu.

  She and Audrey stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Look,” said Audrey. “I’m trying not drinking. I don’t know if it will last. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I know I can’t be this version of myself without y’all. Without you.” Audrey’s eyes went glassy.

  “Don’t you dare cry.” Lulu was shouting. Maybe she was pulling the attention of everyone around her. She couldn’t know. “Don’t you dare.”

  Audrey sniffled. “I’m not crying!” But she was.

  “I’ve nursed you when you’re all vomity, and I’ve worried about your health, and I’ve kept you from getting in trouble with your mom. You don’t get to cry!”

  “I know!” said Audrey, who was audibly sobbing now. S
everal tables looked over. This was what Mrs. Bachmann would definitely call A Scene.

  Lulu grabbed Audrey into a hug. “You’re the worst, Audrey.”

  “I know.” She had reached the point in her crying where she started to hiccup. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Let me finish!” said Lulu. “You’re the worst. But so am I. Turns out I run away from all my problems.”

  Audrey slumped against Lulu. They collapsed against each other.

  Audrey continued to cry. “I’m, so, so sorry,” she said between sniffles.

  “Shut up, Audrey. I accept,” said Lulu, who sniffled herself. “But if you start drinking again I’m not keeping it a secret. I’m not your fucking caretaker anymore.”

  “All right,” said Audrey, hiccupping again. “Sorry I called you a slut.”

  “’S’okay,” said Lulu. “I called Lo a slut and blamed her for Anderson attacking you. I better forgive you if I ever wanna be forgiven.”

  “Are we ever not going to be a mess?” asked Audrey.

  “I have no idea,” said Lulu. “But I hope so.”

  They sat there for a minute, with Audrey’s head nestled into the crook of Lulu’s shoulder. Then Lulu stuck out her pinkie and Audrey took it. They needed no words to swear. They simply twisted their thumbs and unhooked their little fingers, more benediction than promise.

  “Besides,” said Lulu, taking her seat again. She motioned for Audrey to do the same. “Dane Anderson is not your fault. He is not anyone’s fault. But his own.”

  “Amen,” said Diana with a fist pump into the air.

  Audrey startled at the sight of the newcomer.

  “I’m Diana. You used to call me Bangs.” She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m Emma’s girlfriend. But you can’t tell anyone else that yet. Lulu’s been sworn to secrecy and everything.”

  “Okay.” Audrey rattled her head, briefly. “Nice to meet you, Diana.”

  “Fuck, you told her we called her Bangs?” asked Lulu.

  Emma shrugged. Diana laughed at Lulu’s embarrassment. Emma eyed Audrey. Audrey smiled overeagerly at Emma. And for them, for the moment, that was enough.