by LJ Scar
She stared at our hands clasped together in my lap. Her voice low, hurt she spoke, “Do you think it hurts worst to be betrayed by a friend or a lover?”
Guiltily, I answered, “I would imagine both would be painful.”
She nodded. “I thought I had a lot of friends. Only one friend was also my lover. Their silence, your silence was like acknowledged acceptance. Foundations of lifetimes are built on your strongest friendships. I guess none of mine were sturdy enough.” She hit play.
I was left dumbfounded.
Hanna
After the funeral, I questioned everything: my life, my future, our love. All through my mom’s last bout with cancer I had wanted some adult other than my father to swoop in and take over. Wishful thinking…my mother’s parents had succumbed to bad health themselves. Mom’s mother died while I was in elementary school. My maternal grandfather was wasting away in some nursing home in the Midwest so memory impaired he hadn’t been brought to the funeral by my mom’s only sibling, her brother. My mom and he had not seen eye to eye on her dad’s permanent care. With power of attorney my uncle had dumped the old man in state care, so I had no ill-conceived notions he would be willing to help me out either.
As for my father’s immediate family, they were selfish, money hungry phonies. So many holidays had been spent sitting quietly aside observing the way my father and his siblings boasted about who earned what, the value of their portfolios, and the cars they drove. It was off putting and kept me rooted to the ground hoping I would never become like them. I was truly alone, with the exception of Tanner.
Two months after the funeral
The mourning had depleted me completely. I was incapable of emotions – no anger, no happiness, no love. Still I wondered if what he’d done was surmountable.
I leaned in. My breast brushed his arm. My mouth was less than an inch from his. I moved the book off his lap.
The longing that never eased from his eyes drew me in as his hand wove into my hair holding me locked close. “Careful,” he whispered smiling seductively.
We hadn’t touched intimately since I found out about the contest video. I didn’t want him…I just wanted to know.
When his mouth claimed mine a surge of blood pumped into my veins and I could feel my heart rate quicken. Gator jumped off the couch as Tanner backed me down into the cushions. I felt his weight, and I deftly moved my fingers up under his t-shirt skimming his stomach and sides until I pressed them into his back trying to get closer.
His mouth descended down my chest. He rose up on his arms unbuttoning my blouse as he kept his mouth on mine. I closed my eyes, blocked my thoughts, and let myself forget.
Present
Marilyn, Poo Poo’s owner texted me and said her commuter flight couldn’t land back in Jacksonville International due to fog. Please spend the night with Poo Poo. Gator is welcome.
After I finished walking Bowzer, Romeo and Juliet, I gave Sox his daily dose of love and attention before I found myself cold and drenched in the Marilyn’s garage. The rain wouldn’t let up. I was dripping, from my t-shirt to my jeans to my canvas sneakers. I wanted warmth. A hot shower would have been nice, but I needed something instantaneous. I lifted the top of Marilyn’s tanning bed in the garage. Why anyone would get a tanning bed in Florida stumped me, must less why any woman would want to excel the aging process but Marilyn loved a tan. I turned the timer to fifteen minutes, got in and put a towel over my face. The bulbs were blinding but the heat was welcome. Long lights ticked and my clothes heated damp enough that steam emerged.
My cell rang and awkwardly I answered it under the weight of the tanning bed lid.
“Hanna, Trevor said you stopped by.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I missed him.” The hard plastic of the phone was hot in my hand.
“Yeah, next year’s going to be rough being that far away from him,” he talked as if the previous night, his mistaken text had never happened.
I let him keep talking not really concentrating on his words. The cell was staticy like the signal was fading. I focused on the way I was cooking my body in Marilyn’s tanning bed covered in clothes like aluminum foil. Hot wet clothes soothed me. I didn’t know what Tanner said, I no longer cared.
Gator woofed a low warning, for me to wake up or for whoever had entered the house to note a hostile dog was on patrol. I heard Poo whining from the living room where I had his crate. Sitting up in bed, I waited as I heard the garage door go down. Moments later Tanner appeared at my door.
“Hey buddy,” Tanner said lowly as my large Akita mix lifted his head from the carpet.
“What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He slid under the covers before I protested. He pulled me close, as I held my body stiff. He matched our breaths. I listened to his heartbeat, steady, no longer comforting.
I thought about Mom in the weeks leading up to her death. I was grieving and she hadn’t even died yet, worried about my future, scared of ending up alone. So many times during those blurry weeks, I couldn’t sleep and would crawl into her bed wanting to hold her if she passed, exhausted and ready for death to take her, only to open my eyes the next morning and still hear her heartbeat, see the sun had risen once more.
I let him sleep telling myself this would be the last time.
Chapter 12
Hanna
Poo and Gator were outside the French doors begging me to let them back in but until I saw one of them at least pee they were vanquished out there. Poo was wearing a little dog raincoat. He needed to suck it up. Poor Gator was drenched. Finally, I let them in and toweled them off. Wet dog fur clung to me and my nose.
My mom loved the storms, romanticizing the wind and rain. The howling, the sand and leaves that whipped up against the windows, the whistling sound as the air caught and moved through the eaves of the house. Alone those noises sounded scary.
Tanner had left for school. I decided to skip, sleep in solitude while a DVD played in the background. My dreams mixed with nature’s roar outside, my shelter, and the background chaos of the movie. In my subconscious I was under water, the atmosphere was thick and the world swirled above just out of reach. I was reaching out to something beyond my grasp, and once again my mouth was full of pennies.
5 Years Earlier, 7th Grade
“This sucks!” I listened to Tanner whining about a stupid sock hop our parents had forced us into attending.
I watched as my fellow female classmates shimmied to modern music in poodle skirts, with both real and fake ponytails swinging from their heads.
“Does no one notice there is a contradiction of decades happening here?” I rhetorically asked.
The DJ was playing 90’s music yet sock hops were supposed to be 50’s and early 60’s classics. Sometimes the adults who tried to meddle in shaping supposed culture in our brief experienced lives didn’t have a clue.
“Quit staring at Peyton. That’s gross.”
“Sorry, you know hormones, slight breeze, tight sweaters warp a young boy’s mind,” he teased.
“Uuugh, we know way too much about each other.”
“Hey, you shared with me when you got your period and I didn’t go uuugh.”
“Not the same. Plus, I didn’t share with you. You guessed.”
He ignored my comment. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s sneak out of here and go grab a slice of pizza at Don’s.”
“What if we get caught?” I asked doubtfully.
“They won’t notice. They think you and me are the good kids that don’t need supervision. Plus, they are too busy paying attention to Peyton and her followers getting felt up by eighth grade guys.” He pointed at three chaperones and two teachers clustered at various spots on the dance floor.
We went in the hall past the girls crying against the wall because no boys were paying attention to them. Past the geeky boys who were hiding from bullish classmates, and slipped unnoticed out the door sticking close to the shadows
out of the illuminating lights.
We walked the dirt path that led to the baseball fields, and crossed the street, ran one block in freed exhilaration and entered Don’s laughing. Unfortunately, we were not the only anti-sock hoppers that had ditched the dance. We took two silver tractor seat stools at the counter and watched the employees flip the pies. One boy kneading dough smiled at me.
“You want something?” the smiler asked.
I flushed a little bit. I always found it hard to talk to boys other than Tanner, and of course, Trevor. For me, nothing was more difficult than talking to an older boy.
“Yeah, two diet colas and two slices of deep dish with spinach,” Tanner answered for me rolling his eyes at my inability to speak. “Geez, these guys need to register as sex offenders. What are they staring at? You have bumps, nothing like Peyton. Can’t they tell you’re thirteen?”
“Thanks,” I mumbled dejectedly.
“Plus, they hurt my male ego by ignoring my presence as your escort,” he joked.
“They think we are brother and sister because we look alike.”
“I get that. That’s why you need to color your hair blonde.”
“No way. I am not a blonde.” I gave a shy smile to the boy who put our drinks and plates of pizza before us. I snuck a look at his name on our tab he left beside Tanner.
“Yep, scratch that. Blonde will make these pedophiles notice you more. Go Goth, maybe deep purple.”
“Sorry, not happening.”
Tanner shrugged and bit into his slice. We sat there silently eating, watching our classmates migrate from table to table. I reached across Tanner and grabbed the check. I left the amount plus a tip under my glass.
As we walked back, Tanner was baiting me, “You left a generous tip.”
“I do my part for the economy.”
“Yeah, right.” I could hear footsteps approaching behind us and I turned to see some eighth grade boys catching up. Soon we were absorbed as they walked around us.
“Where are you two headed?” asked an upperclassman coming up on Tanner’s left. Another kid fell in step beside me on my right. I looked up at his grinning pimply face and wanted to tell him how Mom had shown me if you put toothpaste on your pimples before bed they dried up by morning. I kept my mouth shut instead.
“Back to that lame dance,” Tanner responded not as confident as he usually was.
The kid put his arm around me. Shrugging it off, I reached for Tanner’s hand and picked up my pace. I could see the lights reflecting off of the stark beige brick of uninspired architecture that was our junior high. We all halted as two teachers standing at the front door came into view. Maybe we had snuck out unnoticed, but we weren’t getting back in that way.
I pulled Tanner away from the group and we disappeared in the darkness back down to the path leading to the baseball fields. “Let’s wait until the teacher disappears. Soon your mom will be here to pick us up.”
We walked over to the bleachers and sat in the far corner watching cars enter the curved drive. We had the perfect vantage point to watch for his mom’s car.
“Those guys never talked to me before. Why now?” Tanner complained.
“Why would you want them to? They’re gross.”
He shrugged. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone in the dugouts. I heard Peyton’s giggle.
“You think Peyton’s playing the lipstick game with more than one guy over there?” Tanner asked.
“Yuck, I don’t want to think about it. You thinking about going over there?” I taunted.
“Hell, no, that girl is probably spreading thrush and herpes with her mouth as we speak.” We both laughed.
“Here they come back,” I whispered seeing the same group headed our way.
He took a second and then said, “If they see us kiss maybe they will lose interest in you.” He placed his cold, chapped lips upon my mouth.
I giggled. “You taste like pepperoni.”
“Yeah, well you smell like spicy marinara.” He laughed.
We pursed lips, held together without movement until the boys gave up.
Tanner
When we were young, we were inseparable – me, her and Trevor. We used to think when we got settled we’d buy a house and Trev could come live with us.
Thinking of Trevor made me remember his last birthday. It had only been a couple of months after her mom died. The theme was SpongeBob SquarePants. We all stood around Trevor as he blew out twenty candles. The yellow icing that made up SpongeBob had started melting because Trev insisted the candles be relit three times.
Hanna stood beside me laughing with Trevor as he opened toy after toy. Actually being a friend to Trev not just coming out of some sense of duty like the other kids we’d grown up with who attended.
I looked over at the adults: a couple of aunts, my parents. None of them loved Trev as much as Hanna. When he opened my present, the latest Harry Potter book he lit up in excitement.
“Hanna, are you going to read to me?”
“Yeah, if it doesn’t get too scary. There’s a lot of magic in that book.”
Trevor’s eyes got all big. I watched Mom wipe icing from the corner of his mouth as if she was embarrassed by him.
“Why don’t you kids go downstairs and watch one of Trevor’s new DVDs?” There was a resignation in her voice, the sad knowledge that her oldest child had just aged past his teenage years and would never be independent.
Downstairs I took over the hostess duties. “Okay Trev, it’s your day what do you want to watch?” Like a deck of cards I fanned out several G rated DVDs.
“Hanna promised we’d do the dance!” Trevor exclaimed bouncing up and down from a sagging spot on the abused couch.
I glanced at Hanna. We both knew what he was talking about. “Do you have the song?” I asked.
“Yeah, I keep it on my MP3.”
“You don’t need to indulge his every birthday wish, Hanna. You act like he’s your boyfriend or something,” Peyton jabbed.
I looked from her to Hanna sensing Peyton’s jealousy. She’d spent most of the time trying to command my attention. Since we’d come downstairs I’d noticed her fluctuating between scowls and eye rolls.
Then Hanna said in a mocking voice, “Peyton, just because you don’t have rhythm unless you are on your back doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t have some fun.”
I froze. Could have been Hanna’s insult was based on the fact that most of the school considered Peyton a slut. Hanna may have realized I was fucking Peyton. I watched on pins and needles as Hanna began rummaging in her purse for her MP3 and placed it in the docking station.
Without further explanation or accusations, she grabbed Trev’s hands and yanked on mine to join in. “Ready?”
The three of us got into formation. Somewhat in sync we performed that less than stellar choreography we’d made up in elementary school. We sang along, pretty much nailing it until Trev hit a high note he was incapable of belting out. Hanna doubled over in laughter, which only prompted Trev to outdo himself on the chorus.
Peyton verbally retaliated, “I took video. You know to dispel any myths out there. Maybe the stills from this can actually end up in the yearbook.”
You could see Hanna shut down immediately. She walked back to the docking station at the stereo letting her hair fall forward across her blood rushed face.
Here were two of the girls I was screwing. Only one of them meant a damn to me. Without hesitation, I slid my arms around Hanna’s waist, whispering, “You are the best.”
Trev heard, started jumping up and down. “Hanna won. Tanner said she’s the best.”
Not long after that Trev was sent to the group home.
Chapter 13
Hanna
Tanner’s, my previous, graduating class was relatively small being private and all. Less than a hundred kids filled almost ten rows with their parents flanking in opposing seats like a box. Trevor and I sat up in the bleachers while his mom and dad too
k a spot closer to the ground.
Each student’s name was called. People I hated accepted their diplomas amid applause and shouts of celebration. I heard Tanner’s name followed by the loud baritone of Trevor whooping for his brother. His parents rose as if their youngest son was worthy of a standing ovation. After all graduates were recognized, Tanner went to the podium. My mind blanked and I tuned him out to focus on Peyton blowing him a kiss up on stage.
Refocusing, the astonishment over the words Tanner had chosen to use in closing his valedictorian speech became excruciatingly clear. “Someday we’ll all look back on high school and those insignificant events that seemed so monumental then will just be vague memories. We’ll see and meet each other in the grocery and maybe won’t recall each other’s names. However, right now, right here etch this moment forever into your minds. We are the graduating class of Sacred Academy…be loud, stand proud, and turn those tassels!”
Tassels were turned. Caps were thrown. Congratulations were bestowed. I stayed seated, waiting, knowing the time had come.
When we pulled up to the graduation party, the worry spread and the excuse to beg off was on the tip of my tongue. Yet there I was accompanying the man who considered himself my boyfriend to a place where people would judge me based on an event I’d had no knowledge of.
Tanner was ecstatic, and rightly so. He had completed twelve years of education. He was about to embark on four more to come. Maybe sensing I wasn’t feeling the celebratory mood, he leaned across to my side of the car and finger touched my metallic white ribbon cardigan. His hand moved, splaying across my silver t-shirt underneath. “You look amazing.” He nuzzled my neck.
Goosebumps rose across my flesh. The anxiety grew exponentially as he took my hand and led me into the home of one of my former classmates. I immediately focused on the previous year’s graduates, the judges.