Plain Jane

by Kim Hood

  Emma was already handing Mom my Monopoly money. I meant nothing here.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to play with you anymore, Emma.’ Resentment rose in my throat, spilling out with my words. ‘You’re a crap player; it gets so boring.’ And suddenly I was on sure ground again, hearing Mom’s sigh, full of exasperation, and Emma hunching her shoulders, though only I would notice it, draped as she still was in my too-large hoodie.

  Dell ate the cold burritos as we watched reality show reruns on T.V. I wasn’t hungry.

  Dad said he had already eaten when I offered to make him soup again. I doubted that, but I didn’t argue. I still wasn’t hungry.

  I woke up in the dark, with my shoes and jeans still on. I couldn’t remember when I had fallen asleep. I hadn’t even taken out my text books, or opened my laptop. I’m not sure what I was even doing before I fell asleep. Just looking at the ceiling I guess. When Dell and I first got together I remember I had spent a lot of time lying on my bed remembering every bit of his profile, savouring in the thrill that he had noticed me, liked me, kissed me.

  I didn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t remember when I had last had a feeling I cared about. There weren’t any more thoughts worth thinking about either.

  I felt around for a while before I found my phone to check the time. It was only 4am, but I was awake now. I was cold, but I didn’t get under the covers to warm up. I wanted to feel the cold – it was something wasn’t it? I folded my arms over my chest, Snow White or Dracula-style, and looked up into the dark. What would happen if I just stayed in this position and refused to move? Refused to speak. Isn’t that what women did in the Victorian times, just took to the bed and refused to get out? It seemed to me a reasonable thing to do. If your life was shit and not likely to ever improve, why not just stop getting on with it?

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the patterns playing against my eyelids, pulses of white light that reminded me of stars. Out there somewhere other people were fully alive. I could stay here and not try to be one of them anymore. It would be easier without me in their faces to remind them what half dead looked like.

  The problem with my apathy is that I can never seem to sink right into it. There are all of these annoying spider webs covering my pit of despair that stop me from descending any more than half-way. So two hours later I woke up under my duvet and without the will to spend the day in bed. Let’s be real here, my parents hardly needed two kids stuck in bed.

  When I got on the bus and Tracey was turned in her seat, chatting with Aishling and Brenda in the seat behind her, I took a breath, determined not to say anything insulting. Tracey flashed me a nervous smile, swinging her legs out so that I could slide in beside her, giving me the window because she knew I preferred it. Then she glanced at the others, who kept decidedly neutral expressions.

  I had interrupted a conversation and they tried to find a way back into it tentatively, warily. I had ruined too many conversations in the past.

  ‘So, Tracey, you were telling us what you were going to wear to the disco,’ Aishling said.

  ‘Well …’ Again Tracey looked at me before proceeding. I felt like saying, ‘It’s okay, you don’t need my approval to talk about your wardrobe selection for a stupid school dance.’ I didn’t say that though; I just smiled. ‘Okay, so I have a blue dress that is pretty casual, but I think it might be way too short. And, can I get away with heels if it’s casual? Because I have these amazing new shoes.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think Aaron would mind that, do you Aishling?’ said Brenda.

  Tracey went red. She had been hoping to get together with this Aaron since last spring. She doesn’t say it often, but we know it from how she lights up like a Christmas tree every time we say his name.

  Unfortunately, it’s totally wishful thinking. Though she is absolutely beautiful, somehow the guys just don’t flock to her at all. I think she scares them. See, as soon as there are any males in sight who could possibly be boyfriend material it’s as if Tracey loses the ability to speak at all. I know that is because she is so nervous that her brain freezes, but I don’t think they do. It’s not like any of the guys we know are exactly great conversationalists, but any guy that tries to move in on her ends up giving up because they don’t know what to do with her utter silence. Alcohol can’t even help her, because with more than one beer she is in the bathroom praying to the porcelain god. She is terrified to try any drugs given the effect booze has on her.

  ‘What about you?’ Tracey turned to me. ‘Will you come?’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Dell can meet us after with Stan if he wants. You won’t be the only one without your second half.’

  I didn’t even know when the disco was on. Was it this Friday? Next? I couldn’t remember when I had last been to one. It wasn’t that Dell would care if I went either. To him, dances, school or otherwise, were girl’s territory; he didn’t dance – ever.

  I used him as an excuse to avoid going out anyway, most of the time. He was convenient that way. I couldn’t stomach putting on makeup, doing my hair, finding something to wear. I just couldn’t seem to care.

  ‘Dell and I are … we’re,’ I searched for a plausible excuse. ‘He said he has a surprise for my birthday.’ I hoped the dance was this weekend. I had only just remembered that I had a birthday coming. Sixteen. Sweet sixteen.

  ‘I thought you were never going to mention your birthday!’ Tracey exclaimed. ‘That sounds really amazing! Maybe Dell’s taking you for a romantic dinner. Maybe his dad is away for the night. If not, I can get you the keys to our cabin.’ In Tracey’s world, every girl is just waiting for a knight in shining armour to rush her off into the romantic ever after. I’m sure she thinks having sex with the first guy who doesn’t run away from her will be her gateway to Nirvana. I wasn’t going to burst that bubble.

  ‘Mm hmm.’ I hoped that nonspecific mumbling would shift the focus off me before I said something I regretted. I was trying to remember what the date was. Hard to believe I had forgotten my own birthday. I guess the topic hadn’t come up at home. Emma hadn’t exactly been well, even for the skewed definition of well that seemed to apply to her lately.

  ‘Anyway.’ Brenda flashed me a smile that I was sure meant Enough about Jane. ‘Kayla didn’t specifically say we were invited, but she did tell me her parents are away that night and people are going over to hers after the disco. I’d say we could show up there.’

  ‘And Stan can get us some beer!’ Aishling proclaimed.

  This was my life. I pretended to be tired, so I could lean my head on the frozen glass window pane. I listened with my eyes closed. They were so excited, genuinely. This dance, and the promise of a party, was everything. I wanted so badly to feel that excitement. I concentrated on that spot in my stomach where I knew I should feel it. I know there was a time when I would have buzzed, literally, with the anticipation of a house party, a disco, the promise of all sorts of debauchery and gossip-inducing happenings.

  I just couldn’t find that feeling now. And without the feeling – well, it just seemed like a meaningless thing to be excited about. Nothing would be different from any other party I had ever attended. I would drink as fast as I could, until everything began to spin. Tracey would cling to me, hopeful and terrified that tonight would be the night she found love. Some big guy would break something. Two girls would argue over something. The evening would progress to groups of girls jumping up and down to bad house music. Couples would retreat to corners and rooms, and when I needed the toilet I would come across them awkwardly in my search for a bathroom that didn’t have a half hour queue to it. Finally, the police would come, or neighbours, or worse yet the parents themselves. Everyone would complain and try to grab their beer in retreat, while secretly loving the drama of it all.

  I didn’t need to go. It wouldn’t be any different from any other night. Still, I wished I did want to go, that I could forget that it would be the same as every other night. Why was everyone else
able to do that? Why couldn’t I?

  When I was sure the girls had forgotten I was there, I opened my eyes again. It was still dark – and freezing because the windows never shut properly. I couldn’t see anything out of the window, but the frost had made patterns in its attempt to cover the pane and I tried to lose myself in the intricate twists. I traced the tendrils with my fingernail, catching the curls of ice that fell away, wishing the cold would hurt before melting.

  English, History, PE.

  Take the bus to Red River.

  Sit in the corner for an hour while Mom and Emma laugh, watching a sitcom that I don’t even know, and isn’t one bit funny.

  Get soaked walking through sleet to catch the bus back home.

  Watch Dell play some war game for two hours. Count the words he says to me: twenty-six.

  Go home and wake Dad up. Put his plate, with its half-eaten sandwich on the pile of dishes in the kitchen.

  Get into bed still wearing my jeans and hoodie. Open my laptop, but fall asleep before writing even one sentence of my English assignment.

  Wash, rinse, repeat.

  You know those mornings when you wake up, and maybe the sun is shining, or you had a great dream, or you think it’s Friday or then suddenly remember that it’s Saturday? And you think it might be kind of a good day? I woke up with that feeling, even though it was still dark out and definitely not Saturday. Something just felt … different. I’d even heard Mom come in the door late the night before. Of course she would come home. It was my birthday today.

  So here is my confession. I may be a pretty cynical bitch about most things, most of the time, but birthdays are different. I’ve always loved my birthday. My whole family loves birthdays. Even my practical, no nonsense mother loves birthdays. We have whole-day rituals for them, starting with breakfast in bed for the birthday-celebrator and ending with one of Mom’s cakes – which never turn out to look like the picture she is going for, but always taste delicious.

  Birthdays, the actual day, have always been for just our family. Emma or I might have a sleepover with friends, or a party, on another day, but never on our real birthday. The actual day is reserved for pampering by our foursome.

  We scheme about birthdays. It’s never about big, flashy gifts, or fancy meals – it’s about showing that you have listened the whole year through to what matters. Like the year that Dad carved me a family of penguins because I had been obsessed with the March of the Penguins movie for months. Emma and I even declared a temporary truce on these days. Or – I did in any case, which meant she didn’t have to defend herself.

  I wasn’t expecting the whole ritual this year of course. Everything was put on hold when Emma was in the hospital. That was understandable. But still.

  I didn’t even know what I might get for a present this year. I hadn’t dropped any hints at all, having pretty much forgotten that my birthday was coming. Sixteen was kind of a big one though.

  It was hard not to be at least a little excited. It had been a long time since I’d felt like there was anything worth getting excited about. I ran down the stairs like I was five. And that is not like me – not in the morning. Even before life became an endurance test I did not like mornings.

  For the briefest moment I thought maybe Mom had brought Emma home too. That would be the best present. Maybe we could all just stay home, eat pizza and watch a few movies together.

  She hadn’t though.

  Mom hadn’t even bothered to stay herself until I woke up. Her car was gone. So was Dad’s truck; he was working another double shift. It was just me, and it wasn’t even light yet. Another dark school morning.

  I looked into every room just in case. Maybe there was a big present lurking somewhere. With every new door I opened though, I knew there wasn’t. There wasn’t even a card, or a note.

  There must have been an important reason for Mom to have left Emma overnight, even if she had left before dawn to go back again. The reason wasn’t my birthday though.

  I opened every last door, even the closets – just in case.

  The worst part about there being nothing was that I understood it. I got it that nobody would remember that I was sixteen today. I had barely remembered.

  It wasn’t even like I really cared about the present. Not much anyway. I just wanted the day to be different, not the same as every other day. If it couldn’t be a good day, then I wanted it to be a horrible day. I wanted to feel something – anger, or sadness, anything at all.

  But I didn’t. I just felt heavy and tired and I didn’t want to face another day. Not one more day.

  I thought about staying home. That promised too many hours in the day to face alone though. Daytime television had a way of making the hours stretch out even longer. Maybe if Dell wasn’t working I’d have stayed in Verwood, but he was. If I didn’t get on the school bus I would be stuck in the village even if I changed my mind about not going to school.

  So I went.

  Tracey was watching out for me. Brenda and Aishling were hunched down in their seat, knees against the seat in front of them, talking about god knows what boring thing, but Tracey had her eyes to the front, waiting for me to come up the steps at my stop. She smiled her shy half-smile when she saw me and as soon as I sat down beside her she slipped a little box into my pocket.

  ‘It’s not much,’ she said, before the other two popped up from behind the seat, and they all embarrassed me by singing Happy Birthday as loudly as they could.

  ‘Cupcakes. I made them last night,’ Aishling announced, opening the lid on a cookie tin, revealing multi-coloured cakes, each with a candy ‘16’ in the middle. She smiled before passing the tin to me. ‘First one to the birthday girl.’

  I wanted to smash all of the horrible thoughts I’d had about the three. Horrible, awful thoughts, even about Tracey, and god, how could anyone hate Tracey?

  ‘I know you have plans with Dell for Friday night, but how about we stay in town after school today?’ Tracey was looking at me like my answer would make or break her week. How could she continue being so good to me? ‘My mom will even come to pick us up later on, if you want?’

  I tried to want to do this. For Tracey. I couldn’t remember when we had properly hung out together. It had been weeks ago. What did we even do? What did we talk about? I couldn’t remember and the thought of walking the streets of Kendal for fun just made me feel tired and cold. The seconds were ticking and Tracey was still looking expectantly at me.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ll have to check with Mom first,’ I said. ‘Sometimes she needs a break, and Emma isn’t so, well she’s okay … but … it’s just a long time she’s been in hospital.’

  ‘Yeah, I know how it is.’ Tracey nodded ardently, but she didn’t know how it was at all. Even mentioning Emma was enough to quiet everyone for a while though.

  The bus slowed as we neared town. It was early still and there weren’t many cars on the road. Not that there were many cars on the road in the middle of the day either. Not in November. A nothing month. No summer tourists, no holidays, no sun and no snow yet to lure the ski and snowboard types.

  The bus turned onto Main Street and we passed the park. Until a month ago it had been filled with tents and signs. Groups of dreadlocked boys and flowing-skirted girls had sat around with guitars, openly smoking weed and occasionally shouting slogans all summer.

  Slowly, the tents had been disappearing; it seems even hippies didn’t have the energy to care about anything in November. Today, all the tents were gone. All that was left was one broken one, minus the poles, that had been blown into the fence, and was flapping goodbye.

  ‘I wonder if they won,’ I said. I had meant to think this thought; the words slipped out before I could stop them.

  ‘What was it even about?’ Brenda quipped.

  ‘They’re always about the same thing – stopping jobs,’ said Aishling. I swear I’d heard the exact same words from her dad.

  ‘They wanted a sanctuary for the grizzly bears,’ I sai
d. It didn’t seem like such an unreasonable thing.

  ‘Why would they care?’ said Brenda. ‘Notice that their tent city was in downtown Kendal – not up in the alpine with the bears?’

  ‘I’d say they were all from Vancouver anyway. Probably just getting away from the parents and smoking loads of dope,’ agreed Aishling, as if she didn’t aspire to the same goal every weekend.

  I wondered if Farley had been part of that group. Maybe he had gone home now. That was probably a good thing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, but I said it quietly for once, and I kept my next thoughts to myself. ‘At least they have something besides themselves to care about. At least they were fighting for something that mattered to them, and not just filling the days.’

  First period was history. I hadn’t read the chapter that I was supposed to have read for homework. That turned out to be okay though, because we were just watching a film. We were on World War II and our teacher must have loved this topic because there has to be a million movies and documentaries about the Second World War – all curriculum approved it seems. Easy days for her. Happy Birthday to me too.

  The movie today wasn’t about the most cheery of themes though, even for a world war. We could have watched something with lots of plane battles, and things to cheer for. Instead, we were watching Schindler’s List, which was about the holocaust, and so didn’t promise one thing to cheer about. I think the teacher picked it because it’s so long. It was going to take up three classes – a reward for having finished everything we had to cover before our term exam the following week. If I’d had known it was just a movie, I would have skipped the class.

  I guess if you were in the mood for getting depressed it would be a good movie. I was not really in the mood for getting any more depressed though. All it did was remind me how meaningless my life was, and I didn’t exactly need any reminders for that either.