But just as my mom and Dave reach the end of the hallway, the exit door opens and Kimber and Jessie walk through. Oh god! Of the six hundred students at Red Cedars, why does it have to be these two? Their scintillating conversation about liquid versus pressed-powder foundation stops abruptly when they spot the rotund woman accompanying Mr. Bartley. “Hi, Ms. Burroughs,” Kimber says. “Hi, Mr. Bartley.”
“Hello, girls,” my mom and Dave answer, completely oblivious to the malicious tone in Kimber’s voice. They walk out into the warm autumn sunshine, unaware of the emotional devastation they have left in their wake.
Kimber and Jessie continue toward us, looking over their shoulders and giggling cruelly. When they’re a few lockers away, Jessie says, “Louise, why didn’t you tell us your mom got knocked up by Mr. Bartley? That’s so . . . weird.”
Before I can reply that I know it’s weird and I wish it had never happened and there’s no need to tell me that both my parents are sex maniacs because I am all too aware, Leah says, “I think it’s exciting. It’ll be so much fun to have a new baby around.”
“Totally,” Raj agrees, “I love babies.”
Emma jumps in. “Me too. And this way, you’ll get all the fun, but you can just hand it off to your mom when it cries or poops or something.”
A swell of intense gratitude fills me and I smile weakly at my three friends. But of course, Kimber and Jessie are not swayed. “Whatevs!” Kimber says with an incredulous laugh. They walk off, their mocking laughter ringing in my ears. I watch them for a moment as they gleefully spread the news to passersby that my so-called normal parent has been screwing a teacher.
At home that night, I approach my mom in the kitchen, where she is assembling zucchini lasagna. “I’m dropping out of school,” I say. “I’m going to get my GED and I’m moving to New York with Russell.”
“What’s brought all this on?”
“Like you don’t know.” I open the fridge and peer inside.
My mom puts down the block of cheese she’s grating. “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
I turn to face her. “I saw you waddling around the school today, practically making out with Mr. Bartley in front of everyone!”
“Louise! I did no such thing!”
“I didn’t want anyone to know you were pregnant!” I cry. “Why couldn’t you have had some respect for me and waited for him in the car?”
My mom is flabbergasted. “I—We were just going for lunch. I . . . Shut the fridge door.”
I do. “There’s nothing good in there anymore anyway. It’s all healthy stuff for the baby.”
She looks at me then and I can tell she’s fed up. “Do you know how juvenile you’re being about this?”
“Whatever. I have to get ready for work.”
“You think you’re mature enough to quit school and move to a city like New York on your own? You’re not mature enough to handle the fact that sometimes adults fall in love, and yes, they have sex, and yes, that’s how babies are made.”
“STOP!”
“It’s not a healthy attitude, Louise. You’re going to have to learn to deal with this pregnancy. I’m not going to hide myself away to save you the embarrassment.”
“Of course not!” I yell. “Who cares about your oldest child? You’ve got Dave and your precious new baby to think about. You can just forget about me!” I stomp from the kitchen and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I have to admit that this does little to refute my mom’s “juvenile” comment, but at that moment, it just feels so right.
The fight with my mom is the catalyst I needed to make me cement my plans for the future. When I get to work, I talk to Russell about it. “So, who do I call to take the GED?”
He appears surprised. “Why? What happened?” When I describe the earlier hallway encounter, Russell’s voice registers his concern. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, so obviously I can’t go back there. I need to take that test so we can move to New York.”
“Well, I took it in Phoenix, so I don’t really know. I guess you could just google GED Langley or something.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”
Russell leans against the counter and looks at me. “But are you really ready to go to New York now? I mean, I’m going to need almost a year to save up enough money, and I haven’t even contacted any clubs yet. And what about your portfolio?”
I am immediately suspicious. “What? Don’t you want to go now?”
“Of course I do! I just don’t think there’s a huge rush.”
“Fine. Sure, whatever,” I grumble.
I try not to read too much into his hesitance, but I can’t help but worry. I want to get out of Langley more than ever, and Russell seems almost indifferent. But it’s a busy night, so we have little opportunity to debate the subject. In fact, we work our shift in virtual silence, perfunctorily serving customers and basically ignoring each other. It’s not until Russell is cashing out that I extend the olive branch.
“My mom let me drive tonight,” I say. “Do you want a ride home?”
“That’s okay,” he responds. “Tanya’s picking me up.”
“Tanya is?”
“Yes,” he snaps, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “Tanya is.”
“Okay . . . well, everything else is done but the cash so . . . I guess I’ll take off.”
Without looking up from the float he says, “See ya later.”
30
As I walk to my mom’s car in the darkened parking lot, I feel fairly sure that Tanya is not the one coming to fetch Russell. Daniel Noran has undoubtedly told Sienna he is busy doing something macho like getting a tattoo or crocodile wrestling as an excuse to meet up with his boyfriend. Scanning the nearly deserted parking lot, I don’t see Tanya’s large blue Thunderbird entering the dimly lit area. In fact, other than my mom’s Mazda and the steel-grey Mercedes parked next to it, it’s practically vacant.
Pressing the automatic unlocking device, I see the car’s headlights blink to welcome me. I have just reached the driver’s side door when I suddenly sense the unmistakable presence of another person. Instantly, my heart leaps into my throat and my mother’s numerous warnings about staying alert and aware of your surroundings when alone in a dark area run through my head. Damn Russell, Sienna, and Daniel! Damn my mom, Mr. Bartley, and the evil triplets! How am I supposed to stay alert and aware of my surroundings when I’ve got so much on my mind? My blood will be on their hands when I am raped and murdered by the Willowbrook Mall parking-lot killer!
That’s when he emerges from the Mercedes parked on the passenger side of my car. “Hi,” he says cheerfully, smiling that broad, white-toothed smile.
There is a moment of relief, followed by a resurgence of fear. Sure, Daniel Noran is less likely to be a parking-lot serial killer, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to see me dead.
He continues, “You’re Louise Harrison, right?”
Right, I’m tempted to snap. We’ve only gone to school together for four years. I’m the best friend of your boyfriend and the former best friend of your girlfriend, but how could I expect someone like you to know my name? But it’s probably best not to antagonize him. “Yeah,” I reply.
“So . . . uh.” He’s still smiling, “I think you already know who I am.”
“Yep.”
“I was wondering if we could talk.”
“About what?” I say nervously.
“I think you already know that too.”
“Well . . . okay. But my mom is expecting me home soon.”
“It won’t take too long,” Daniel says, friendly manner still in place. He motions to the Mercedes. “Do you want to get in? It’s my mom’s car. It’s got a great stereo.”
Never get into a car with someone who would like to see you dead, I vaguely remember hearing. “No, we can talk here.”
“Okay.” For the first time, Daniel’s composure seems to slip a little. He takes a deep, labored breath b
efore continuing. “So, uh . . . I know you saw Russell and me together.”
“Yeah.”
“And you used to be really good friends with Sienna, right?”
“Used to.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m not trying to play games here. I’m sure this must seem really awful . . . ”
“It does.” This may very well prompt him to attack, but I simply can’t deny this fact.
“I know, I know,” he says, running his fingers through his ridiculously perfect hair. “But it’s complicated. My parents, they expect a lot from me. My dad—”
I cut him off. “Russell told me.”
He looks at me intently then. “You seem like a really smart person, Louise. I’m sure you can understand how complex this situation is. It’s not as simple as just choosing between Russell and Sienna.”
I shrug.
Daniel pauses and then flashes me another devastating smile. “I hear you’re a really great artist too.”
“Uh, thanks.” Almost against my will, I can feel myself softening toward him. Am I really that gullible? Or is Daniel Noran really that charming?
“I saw your sets for Rent. I could totally see you ending up on Broadway one day.”
He is that charming! But I can’t forget what he’s doing to my former and current best friends. “What do you want from me, Daniel?”
Again, his hands run through his thick, dark hair. “Please, just give me a chance to make things right. I don’t want to hurt Sienna. She’s a really great girl and . . . well, it would be really painful for her if you told her about . . . well, you know.”
I nod my understanding.
“Not to mention that she won’t believe you anyway. She’ll think you’re just trying to hurt her and she’ll be angry. You don’t deserve to go through that.”
Daniel is giving me an almost pitying look that makes me shift uncomfortably on my feet. Unfortunately, his prediction of Sienna’s reaction sounds pretty accurate.
He coughs nervously into his hand. “I know I’m going to have to tell my parents and my friends . . . It’s not going to be easy, but . . . it’s something I have to do.”
“It is,” I say gently. And then, to show him how empathetic I am, I say, “Did you see Brokeback Mountain? I just thought it was so sad how those cowboys had to live a lie their entire lives.”
He gives me kind of a strange look. “Uh . . . yeah. So, you’ll leave it with me then? You’ll let me end things with Sienna?”
“Okay, but you’d better do it soon. It’s not going to get any easier.”
“I know.” He pauses for a second. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re not . . . uh, doing anything physical, if you know what I mean.”
This does make me feel a little better. Maybe Sienna isn’t that serious about him after all?
Daniel continues, “I guess that old guy she was dating pressured her a lot. When we hooked up, she told me she didn’t want to rush things. And, uh . . . that was fine by me.”
Daniel doesn’t want to have sex with the most gorgeous girl at Red Cedars and he’s confused about his sexuality? “Okay,” I say, “I won’t say anything to Sienna.”
His relief is obvious. “Thanks, Louise. You really are a great person, just like Russell and Sienna said.”
I look at him. “Sienna said?”
“Yeah,” he flashes his brilliant white smile, “she has a lot of nice things to say about you. Your dad, on the other hand . . . ”
A sick feeling rises in my stomach. “Right. Okay, well, good luck breaking up with her and . . . coming out and everything.”
“Thanks,” he says, still standing outside his mom’s Mercedes. He watches me hop into the driver’s seat and tear out of the parking lot.
31
Because of my late-night encounter with Daniel Noran, I had nearly forgotten about my mom’s display of her fertility in the Red Cedars hallways yesterday. But as soon as I walk into the foyer, it all comes flooding back. As I hurry toward my locker, I can’t help but notice the halted conversations, hear the excited whispers, and feel the eyes upon me. Maybe if I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact, no one will comment on my mom’s sexual relationship with Mr. Bartley? But the buzz of conversation lets me know that’s unlikely. I’m undoing my combination lock when she approaches.
“Hey, Louise,” Kimber says casually.
“Uh . . . hey.” There is a brief moment of hope. Maybe Kimber doesn’t think it’s such a big deal that my mom is pregnant with Mr. Bartley’s love child? And that’s when I notice it. Kimber has tucked a sweater or a backpack or something else enormous under her shirt and is waddling up and down the hallway. Jessie, Audrey, and a gaggle of popular girls and guys are laughing hysterically into their palms. I turn back to my locker, my cheeks burning with shame.
But apparently Audrey doesn’t think this humiliation is sufficient. She approaches. “So, I hear your mom and Mr. Bartley are a couple?” I mumble an unintelligible affirmation. Audrey looks back at the peanut gallery and then continues. “We were all wondering, like, do you ever hear them having sex at night? I’ve been to your house before. Your bedroom is just across the hall from your mom’s. You must hear them going at it sometimes.”
“No.”
“Have you ever walked in on them while they’re doing it?” she continues excitedly. “I bet you’ve come home from work and found them having sex on the sofa! Or the kitchen table!” Audrey’s cohorts burst into uproarious laughter. Normally, this would cause me to crawl into my locker and shut the door—not that someone my size could ever fit into a locker—but something is different today. Maybe I’m PMSing, but I have had enough. I whirl on her.
“Sure,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “My mom and Mr. Bartley have sex all over the house! I’ve probably seen them do it at least thirty times.”
Audrey looks to the group behind her. “She admits it!” she cries delightedly.
“Oh yeah,” I continue, my volume increasing. “They actually put on sex shows for us! Every night! They’re total perverts. My whole family is! You should know that by now.” To emphasize my point, I slam my locker door. Audrey just looks at me. There are a few awkward giggles, but my outburst has definitely quelled their hysterics. I want nothing more than to run to the bathroom and burst into tears, but I will not give them the satisfaction. I hold my ground, staring at Audrey with angry eyes.
“God,” Audrey finally says, “what a biatch! I was just asking—”
But from somewhere within the circle of onlookers, a voice interrupts. “Shut up, Audrey.”
I look to see who on earth would be brave enough to defend me in this situation and my eyes fall upon Sienna. Audrey is as shocked as I am. “What?” she says, laughing awkwardly.
“I said shut up,” Sienna continues. “Her mom’s having a baby. Why do you have to turn it into something gross?”
Audrey looks around the circle for support. “Uh, maybe because it is gross! Her mom is, like, doing Mr. Bartley.”
“So?” Sienna says, walking toward her. “Why are you so interested? Do you have a crush on him or something?”
“No!” Audrey shrieks as the onlookers stifle their giggles.
“Well, then why do you care what he does with Louise’s mom?”
Audrey is about to make a bitchy retort, but she knows better than to go up against Sienna. “I don’t, obviously.” She laughs again, stepping away from me a little. “Like . . . whatever.”
I take this opportunity to flee to homeroom.
As predicted, I am the topic of numerous whispered conversations for the rest of the day. They’re probably all talking about how the humiliation of being the daughter of two sex-crazed parents has caused me to snap, firing back at one of the most popular girls in school. Leah, Emma, and the gang try to be supportive, but there’s really nothing they can say to help. At least no one is outwardly attacking me anymore. They’re all too afraid that I’ll pull out a hand grenade an
d blow us all to smithereens.
After fourth period, I allow myself a break. I’ve kept on a brave, almost defiant face all day, and I can feel the mask starting to slip. When English Lit is over, I slip into the bathroom and secure myself in a stall. It’s not like I feel the need to cry anymore, I just feel exhausted. Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, I wearily drop my head into my hands.
I’m not sure how long I stay like that. Fifth period is calculus, so there seems no good reason to emerge. It isn’t until I realize that the time I’m wasting hiding in a toilet stall could be used researching the GED angle that I decide to come out. Blowing my nose loudly, I flush the toilet and head to the row of sinks. Washing my hands, I take in my reflection in the long, rectangular mirror. The day’s trauma is weighing heavily on my appearance. My nose looks red and shiny and there are dark circles under my watery eyes. But what does it matter? Once I take the equivalency test, I can leave this school and reinvent myself in New York.
Just as I’m turning to leave, she enters. I stop in my tracks. It’s kind of surprising that this has never happened before—Sienna and me, face-to-face in a secluded, private setting. Sienna jumps a little, obviously shocked to see me as well. While I feel infinitely too exhausted to speak to my former BFF right now, I guess a thank-you for coming to my defense is in order.
“Uh . . . thanks, you know . . . for before,” I mumble.
“Right,” she says, and her tone is dismissive. “It was no big deal.” Sienna heads into a bathroom stall and I prepare to leave. I have just turned the corner when I hear her say, “I just think it’s sick, that’s all.”
Somewhat hesitantly, I turn back. “What?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
Sienna steps out of the stall. “The way Audrey and Kimber and those guys were acting. I mean, it’s kind of weird to turn happy news about a baby into something about sex. But you know them”—she rolls her eyes—“they’re total sex maniacs.”
My Parents Are Sex Maniacs Page 16