Darcy, Defined

by Suzanne Williams

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I’ve had these before, with Harry.”

  “So, a lot of people are in the basement,” said Paige. “It’s really nice down there. May dad has it set up as his man-cave. I’ll show you down.”

  It appeared we had no choice, so we followed Paige back into the kitchen and down a set of carpeted steps. At the bottom of the steps was a large, open room with a pool table in the middle, couches on either end, and an ornate, wooden bar along one side. “Behave yourselves,” called Paige as she went back up the stairs, like a mom dropping her children off at daycare on her way to work.

  I looked around, assessing my environment, trying to decide where to go. Both couches were occupied and both the bar and pool table had crowds gathered around them. A football game was playing on the TV that hung on the wall behind the bar, eliciting loud chants and howls from several of the guys. “I hate football,” said Maya, whose bottle was now empty. “I need another drink.”

  “I got you,” said a voice from behind us. We both turned around, and as if in a dream, there stood Matt Holmes, holding two wine coolers of a different variety that he must have brought himself. “I’ll trade you,” he said, handing a fresh one to Maya and taking her empty. “How ‘bout you,” he said, looking at me. At me. Talking to me. After taking a minute to process what was happening, I quickly finished my drink, not wanting to miss an opportunity to take one from Matt Holmes. “Thank you,” I said, handing him my empty bottle, feeling his fingertips graze the bottom of my hand. Both Maya and I stared at him, ready to take in his next words or watch his next move, as if he had the answers to all of life’s mysteries. He set the empty bottles down on a small bookcase against the wall and pulled a Miller Lite from his back pocket. He was wearing his East Point Prep football tee shirt. “I don’t really like football either,” he said. We all laughed.

  “Then why do you play it?” asked Maya, sounding genuinely curious.

  “I don’t know. I guess because I’m good at it, and my friends want me to.”

  Say something, I thought to myself. But what? I couldn’t think of anything.

  “Well, what do you like then?” asked Maya.

  Matt tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s the same question I’ve been asking myself for the last week. Hopefully I figure it out in time to write something for English class.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Maya. “Darcy and I were just talking about that assignment earlier today.” I looked over at Maya, who was gesturing to me like a girl from the Price is Right showcasing a new car. I could see her trying to relinquish her role in the conversation and hand the proverbial mic over to me.

  “That’s true,” I said. I looked at Matt, doing my best to make eye contact. “I’m not sure what to write about either. I mean, there are so many things I feel passionately about.”

  “You’re the one with the cleaning scholarship, right?” he said jovially.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “You should write about that. I mean, you’re the only one at the school who does it, and it shows how hardworking you are. I guarantee colleges are going to be all over that.”

  “That’s what I said,” said Maya, a little too excitedly for my pleasure.

  “What about you?” said Matt, turning his attention to Maya.

  I took a swig of my drink, starting to feel a bit tipsy from the alcohol. Feeling deflated, I set down my bottle and murmured something about finding the bathroom, but couldn’t tell if either Maya or Matt noticed me walking away.

  As I walked back up the stairs, I sensed that I had totally blown it with Matt. It had only taken about thirty seconds of conversation for my cleaning scholarship to come up, and then it seemed there was absolutely nothing else to say. When I got to the top of the steps, Tristan was still in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter-top, sipping a beer. My face must have shown a look of worry or confusion. “Are you ok?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just looking for the bathroom.”

  He leaned forward and pointed down the hall we had entered the kitchen from. “It’s that way, across from the library,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said. I went into the bathroom, spending a few extra minutes looking at my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. Should I have worn more makeup? Less? More jewelry maybe? Before leaving my house, I had thought I looked great, but now I wasn’t so sure. When I went back into the kitchen, Tristan was still standing in the same spot.

  “So, why are you standing in here by yourself?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from my recent social failure.

  He chuckled. “Because this way I don’t have to get up every time I want another beer.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense,” I said.

  “Actually, I had been considering going down to the basement, but then I saw you come up, so I figured the party was up here now.”

  “Ha, ok,” I said, taking a few steps closer and leaning back against the counter next to him. I appreciated the compliment, even if it had been made in jest.

  “So, are you having fun?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m starting to think I should have stayed home with my mom.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “You must need a shot.”

  He turned around and grabbed a large bottle of clear liquid and two shot glasses and filled up each one. “Here,” he said, handing me one.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Whipped cream flavored vodka. You’ll love it.”

  We clinked glasses. And without thinking I quickly poured the vodka into my mouth, swallowing it all in one gulp. It burned my entire mouth and throat as it went down. “I thought that was supposed to taste like whipped cream,” I said.

  “Well, it’s still vodka,” he said with a shrug. “You’re kind of funny. Why haven’t we ever talked before?”

  “Um, because you’ve never talked to me before.”

  “Or maybe it’s you who’s never talked to me.”

  I laughed at the thought of me being the snobby one, but perhaps he did have a point. “Well, I’m a little shy and I have a fear of rejection, so. . .”

  “Fear not, me lady,” he said. “You’re safe with me.” A huge, cheesy grin spread across his face, which again made me laugh. I had to admit, as much disdain as I’d always had for Tristan and his boorish behavior, he was attractive. He was tall, like Matt, with reddish brown hair that was always unkempt, and freckles on his cheeks. When he smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks, giving him a boyish appearance. “Let’s play a game,” he said, pouring us each another shot. “Two truths and one lie. If you guess my lie, I take the shot, but if you get it wrong, you have to take it.”

  “Ok,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t actually have to take another shot. In the back of my mind I wondered what was happening in the basement with Maya and Matt, but I was enjoying the attention from Tristan, so I tried not to think about it.

  “Number one,” said Tristan. “I’m a virgin. Number two, I rescued a drowning puppy over the summer. And number three, I write poetry in my spare time.”

  “Poetry,” I said. “That’s the lie.”

  “Take the shot,” he said.

  “What?” I balked, shocked that my guess had been wrong, and unwilling to take another shot. “Hey, who’s that coming up the steps?”

  Tristan turned his head to look toward the basement door, and as he looked away, I turned my shot glass over into the sink, then quickly moved it up to my mouth.

  “No one’s coming,” he said, facing my again. “Hey, did you just dump that out into the sink?” he asked, laughing. “You know, I would have taken it for you.”

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want either of us to overdo it. You’ll have to let me read some of your poetry, by the way, or I might not even believe you.”

  “Maybe someday. I keep my work pretty private.”

  “So, which was the lie? The puppy?”

  He shrugged. “You lost your chance to know. Now it�
��s your turn.”

  “Ok,” I said. I took a minute to contemplate the most interesting and surprising pieces of information about my life. “I don’t know my dad, my grandparents are rich but disowned my mom when she got pregnant with me, and I hate Cincinnati chili.”

  “Wow, those are good,” said Tristan. “I’m going with the first one, about your dad.”

  “This time you get to take the shot, or just dump it if you don’t want to,” I said.

  “Really?” he asked in disbelief. I nodded my head, and he threw back his shot, grimacing afterward.

  “I think we’re both done with this,” I said, sliding the vodka bottle back into a corner under the cabinets.

  “You don’t know your dad?” he asked.

  I shook my head, but didn’t want to divulge any more details surrounding that story. I took a step forward, feeling my head spin a little.

  “Whoa. I think you need to sit down,” said Tristan. He took my hand and led me into the library.

  “It’s nice and quiet in here,” he said. “Do you want to sit down?” He motioned to the couch. I knew what he was thinking and began to feel squeamish. I had been flattered by Tristan’s focus on me, but it was beginning to feel like he was moving too fast. I thought about Maya and Matt again. Were they still talking? Did the two of them even notice how long I’d been upstairs? Wasn’t Maya worried?

  “I should find Maya. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.”

  “Oh ok,” said Tristan. He stepped aside to clear the doorway. “After you,” he said.

  I walked back through the kitchen and down the basement steps with Tristan following behind me. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I looked around. I didn’t see Maya or Matt where we’d been talking earlier, or anywhere else in the open room. That’s when I noticed a door that was ajar on the far-right side. Without thinking twice, I walked toward the door and slowly opened it.

  It was a wine cellar, dimly lit, and in the corner were Matt and Maya. She was leaning against the wall, her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist. As I stood there watching, he leaned in to kiss her. She tilted her face, readily accepting his affection.

  For a moment, I just stood there, completely frozen, trying to process the scene that was playing out in front of me. It felt as if I’d turned on the TV in the middle of a show, having no idea how the characters involved came to be in their present circumstances. Only they weren’t TV characters, but my best friend and the guy I liked, and I couldn’t change the channel to make it go away.

  Finally, I felt myself able to move, so I stepped back slowly, quietly closing the door. I turned around to see Tristan standing nearby, clinking his beer with another guy from the football team. I felt my face flush with anger, or maybe embarrassment, or perhaps a combination of both. Without hesitating I walked over to Tristan and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go back upstairs,” I said, and without another word he walked up the steps with me.

  We went back into the library, which was dark and quiet. I sat down on the couch against the wall, and waited for Tristan to sit next to me. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, hoping he would take the lead. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he whispered. Was I glad I had gone to the party? I didn’t know what to think. Instead of responding, I turned my body more to face him, put my hand on his arm, and let him kiss me.

  Chapter 6

  I woke up the next morning in a spare bedroom inside Paige’s house, on the most comfortable mattress I had ever lay upon. If it hadn’t been for the hangover and the fact that I’d slept in my jeans and bra, it probably would have been the best night’s sleep I’d ever had. My mouth was dry and my head pounded. As I lay there, I tried to piece together the events of the previous night.

  I remembered making out with Tristan in the library until someone walked in, tiptoeing across the room to the only safe door for exiting the party. “Don’t mind me,” said a voice I didn’t recognize. Secretly, I felt relieved by the interruption. I enjoyed kissing Tristan, but I knew I didn’t want to go any further, and I knew the longer it went on, the more likely we were to enter risky territory.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Tristan after the anonymous person left.

  “Go to bed,” I said.

  “How are you getting home?”

  “Maya drove me, but I don’t want to go back with her.”

  “There’s an extra bed upstairs. Do you want me to take you up? You can get a ride home from someone in the morning.”

  I nodded. “I need to find my phone so I can tell my mom.”

  Tristan turned on the light and helped me look for my phone, eventually finding it under one of the couch cushions. I texted my mom to let her know I was staying the night at Paige’s house, then Tristan walked me upstairs to the guest room. He stayed with me for a bit as I got under the covers on the bed. “I think I should go,” he said. “My ride is leaving soon.”

  I caressed his hand. “Thank you for getting me to bed.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “If you see Maya, will you tell her I don’t need a ride anymore.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He kissed me one last time before leaving the room, which is the last thing I remember before falling asleep.

  I tossed the thick, grey comforter off and sat up to look at my phone. A bundle of text messages awaited me. Two were from my mom. Is everything ok? She’d said last night, and Let me know if you need a ride, which she’d sent just moments earlier. I replied, telling her that I was fine and that I’d let her know about the ride once everyone was awake. The other four messages were from Maya, but my head was pounding too hard to read those just yet.

  I got up from the bed and discovered an on-suite bathroom. Everything in it, from the floor tiles to the hand towels, was the same shade of grey as the comforter on the bed. Someone, presumably Paige’s mother, had clearly spent some time picking out the correct shade of every object in the two rooms to create the perfect guest quarters. I splashed some water on my face to wash away the smeared eye makeup and cupped my hands to get some water into my mouth. I gathered up my belongings, made the bed back up and stepped into the hallway, where I saw the main staircase to the right. I remembered I wasn’t supposed to use them, so turned left to find the back stairs, leading down to the kitchen. Cups, cans and bottles were still scattered around the room, which was when I remembered my deal with Paige. Right, I thought to myself, I still am the cleaning girl.

  After searching for a couple of minutes, I found some garbage bags and paper towels in the pantry and some cleaning sprays in the cabinet under the sink. After clearing the garbage, I sprayed and wiped down the counters. Then I swept the floor. When the kitchen was in satisfactory condition, I moved to the other rooms, doing my best to clean with the supplies I had available, all the while having flashbacks to the night before, alternating between feelings of anger toward Maya and affection toward Tristan. Who would have thought that my best friend could so easily kiss the guy she knew I liked? On the other hand, who would have thought that I might actually end up hitting it off with Tristan Ivanov, the class clown, or so I had thought.

  “How’s it going?” said Paige when she came down from her room. She was wearing a large, white tee shirt, her gray shorts barely visible from behind it.

  “Not bad,” I said. “The mess is mostly cleaned up. No vomit or anything gross. But there are some crumbs on the basement carpet I should clean up. Where’s your vacuum?”

  Paige walked toward the front of the house and came back a minute later pushing a sleek Shark my way. “Thanks,” I said.

  “How are you getting home?”

  “My mom can come get me.”

  “It’s ok. I’ll drive you. I need to pick up some breakfast anyway.”

  “Great,” I said. “Just give me a minute to vacuum.”

  I went back down to the basement and cleaned the carpet. Then noticed some spills on the bar tha
t I wiped up before putting away all the supplies.

  Paige was waiting in the kitchen with her car keys in hand and a small purse hanging across her torso. We walked out the front door, which she explained was ok since I was a girl, and it was mostly boys that her parents would be weary of. Tom, for example, who was still sleeping in Paige’s room, would have to avoid the cameras at all costs.

  I got into the front seat of her Cadillac, which was kept impeccably clean on the inside compared to Maya’s car. Not a single straw wrapper or crumbled receipt could be found, as if she’d just received the car that day, “This is really nice,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It was a gift from my parents, so I try to take good care of it. And thanks for cleaning. It was such a relief to not worry about the mess this morning.”

  “Sure. It’s one of the things I do best.”

  Paige laughed. “Maybe you should start a cleaning business. I bet you’d make a ton of money from people around here.”

  “Maybe, but I’m hoping to move on to something else after high school. Something more gratifying.”

  “I get that. It probably sucks to stay after school to clean every day.”

  “Yeah, a little, but I guess it could be worse. It takes a lot of pressure off my mom. She wants me to go to a good school, and she couldn’t afford East Point Prep on her own.”

  “What about you dad?”

  Paige’s question took me by surprise. Lately I’d been so busy with school work, cleaning and advancing my social status, that I hadn’t given much thought to my father. And yet, oddly enough, I’d just brought him up the night before while playing the drinking game with Tristan. “I don’t really know him. He was already married with a family when my mom got pregnant.”

  “Oh,” said Paige, sounding intrigued. “So, you’ve never met him?”

  “He saw me a couple of times when I was baby. And he used to send money and cards sometimes, but I think my mom told him to stop. She thought it would be better for him to not be involved at all.”