But What About Me?

by Marilyn Reynolds

  We both laugh. When I was little, he and Mom would threaten to cut my hair if I couldn’t get it tangle free at least once a week.

  “I finally took your advice,” I smile. “One hundred strokes a night.”

  “It shows. . . Brains, beauty, muscle—you’ve got so much going for you, E.J. . . . Be careful to use it well.”

  I give him a big hug and get out of the car. I hope he never stops using that English Leather stuff. I also hope Rocky keeps her big mouth shut about Danny being in my bed with me that night. I don’t know what my dad would say, but it might not be happy talk.

  When I get home from work, Mom and Dad and Rocky are sitting at the oak table, playing Scrabble.

  “Dad was starving for a Bambino’s pizza,” Mom says, explain­ing the pizza box on the table.

  “We saved you a piece,” Dad says. “I couldn’t wait until six to sink my teeth into one of those luscious pieces. I’m sure you’ll forgive me if you remember what German pizza tastes like.”

  “Cardboard,” I say, taking the remaining piece—mushrooms, double cheese, black olives—from the box. I put it on a plate, and sit at the table with them.

  “Help your sister,” Dad says.

  I look at the letters in her rack. No wonder she can never figure out a word. She keeps everything in alphabetical order. Right now she has E-I-Q-R-S-T-U.

  “Is it your turn?”

  “It’s been her turn for about the last hour,” Mom says.

  “Long enough for me to redo the locks on all the windows,” Dad says. “Have you been hearing strange noises around here at night, Erica? Your mom swears there’s a prowler lurking around.”

  “No,” I say, concentrating on rearranging Rocky’s letters, put­ting the Q-U together, and the E-R together.

  “Well, it worries me some. Mom’s not the type to imagine prowler sounds. I’ll work on getting the house more secure before I have to go back to Germany,” Dad says.

  Suddenly a word pops out at me. I can’t believe it!

  I put Q-U-I-T down on the board, connect it to an open T and add E-R-S.

  Rocky jumps up. “Seven letters! We used all seven letters! How much? How much?”

  Dad groans and Mom keeps looking at the board, like maybe there’s been some mistake.

  Not only do we get fifty points for using all of our letters, the Q is on a triple letter block. All together, QUITTERS is worth one hundred and eighteen points. Rocky is jumping and spinning, which wakes Kitty and she starts running in circles around the house.

  “Great play,” Mom says.

  “I don’t want to be a quitter,” Dad says, “but I’m worn out. How many letters are left in the bag?”

  Mom counts. “Only nine.”

  “I concede to Rocky and the sharp-eyed Erica,” he says, standing and stretching. “I’ve been up for about twenty-three hours, now. I give up.”

  Mom stands, too, putting her arms around Dad. He hugs her, gently rubbing her back.

  “Ummm, I’m glad to be home.”

  She looks up at him in a way that makes me feel like I’m intruding. They pull away from each other as if they’ve remem­bered their audience.

  Mom turns to me. “We were talking just before you came home about having a little party,” Mom says. “Sort of a combination welcome back to Dad and holiday get-together. We thought maybe you’d like to invite a few friends, too. Maybe April, and Danny, and one or two others, if you’d like.”

  “I want to invite Jessica and Miss Lowe,” Rocky says.

  “Your choir teacher?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, I like her.”

  “Well, we’ll see,” Mom says, which I know means she doesn’t think it’s such a great idea.

  “It might be awkward for her to come to a party where the only person she knows is one of her students.”

  “Why?” Rocky asks, turning “why” into a three syllable word.

  “We’ll talk about it some more tomorrow,” Dad says. “I’m beat.”

  “Goodnight. E.J.,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “Goodnight, Rochelle.”

  He kisses her, too, then walks down the hall to the bedroom he and my mom share.

  I’m so glad he’s home. Sometimes I don’t even think about how much I miss my dad, until he comes home and I can stop trying not to miss him.

  “It’s time for you to get to your homework, Rochelle,” Mom

  says.

  “Can I borrow the car?” I ask Mom.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to look some things up at the library, on the internet,” I tell her.

  “You’ll be back by 9:30?”

  “Okay. Or ten?”

  She finds her purse and hands me the keys.

  “Okay.”

  The phone rings and I rush to the kitchen to get it, about an arm’s reach in front of Rochelle. It’s Danny.

  “It’s Erica’s husband. Erica’s married,” Rocky chants.

  “Get a new line, Rocky. This is boring.”

  I take the phone into my room and shut the door behind me. Things have been really good between us the past few days—like they were when we first got together.

  “Hi, Danny.”

  “Hi, Pups. How about if I come over later?”

  “My dad got home today,” I tell him.

  “So?”

  “So I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be climbing through my window. He hears everything. He was trained as a Green Beret, so he pays attention to every little thing.”

  “That was years ago,” Danny says. “He’s older now.”

  “He still notices everything. Besides, it’s been all I can do to keep Rocky from telling that you were here that night.”

  There’s a long silence, then Danny asks, “Do you still love me?”

  “Oh, Danny. I love you more every day. I love you, love you, love you.”

  “I’m not always sure,” he says, sounding sad.

  “I do, Danny.”

  “Then why don’t I come over, late, and you can show me?”

  “Not tonight, Danny. I’m really getting scared that we’re going to get caught.”

  “I need so much to feel you close to me,” he says.

  “Well . . . I’ve got the car for a little while. I’m going to the library, but. . .”

  “Cool. Come pick me up.”

  “I’m leaving right now. Wait for me in front, okay?”

  I tap the phone three times. He taps back four and I hang up. I grab my backpack. Kitty is waiting by the broom closet, where her leash hangs.

  “Not tonight,” I tell her, scratching her ears. “’Bye, Mom. Thanks.”

  “Drive carefully,” Mom says.

  I pull up in front of Alex’s house, but Danny’s not out there. I honk, and wait, and no Danny. I hope that nosy Alice person from my mom’s work isn’t anywhere around to see our car here. I walk to the back door and knock. Mrs. Kendall answers. She’s wearing stretch pants that are stretched to the limit, and a short blouse that shows her poochy white stomach, like the kind of blouse Hamilton’s dress code doesn’t allow. It’s not exactly a flattering outfit I think, and then immediately feel guilty. Mrs. Kendall’s always been nice to me.

  “Hi, Erica, come in.”

  “Is Danny here?”

  “DANNY!” she yells at the top of her lungs. “He’s around somewhere,” she says.

  Alex and Joey and some other guys I’ve seen around but don’t know are in the kitchen, drinking beer.

  “DANNY!” Alex yells, then smiles at me.

  “Turn the goddamned TV down,” Alex’s mom says, walking into the living room and turning it down. “Are we going out or not?” she yells at some guy I’ve just noticed who’s sitting on the couch in front of the TV watching a hockey game. He yells something at the screen, then turns to her.

  “This is just about over, Babe,” he says to her.

  Danny comes in the back door. “I didn’t know you were here,” he says.
>
  For the first time, Joey looks up. “Everybody’s been yelling their brains out for you. You oughta know.”

  “You want a beer, Honey?” Mrs. Kendall asks, turning to me.

  “No thank you,” I say.

  “That’s my beer, Ma,” Joey says.

  “Yeah? Well, it’s my house and if I want to offer a guest a beer, I’ll do it.”

  “Guest?” Joey spits the word out as if he’s offended.

  “I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell Danny.

  “I’m ready,” he says.

  “I hate going to Alex’s,” I tell Danny after we get in the car and drive away.

  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Danny says. “It’s better than being somewhere like my dad’s, where someone’s always raggin’ on you.”

  “Joey acts like he hates everyone.”

  “Yeah, well, things are different with Joey there. Alex and his mom are cool, though. Anyway, Alex and I have over $400 saved so we’re ready to start looking for our own place.”

  “$400? How’d you do that?”

  “You know that ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ business?”

  I shake my head.

  “Well, that’s the deal with the money. Just be happy I’ve got it. I’ve saved some for a big day coming up soon, too,” he says, all mysterious.

  “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  “No, Pups. Are you kidding? Our one-year anniversary? I’ve got plans for this little dark-haired puppy,” he says, petting my head.

  I pull into the library parking lot and reach for my backpack.

  “What’s with the library?”

  “Come in with me. I’ve got to find some information for my paper on Kafka,” I explain.

  Danny pulls me close to him. “Kafka? Is that a disease?”

  “No,” I laugh. “He was an important writer. Didn’t you read that story in senior English, about the guy who turned into a beetle?”

  “Can the beetle guy wait?” Danny asks, turning the key in the ignition.

  I look at him, torn. The paper is due in three days, and I’m already behind on it, but. . .

  Danny kisses me. “Come on,” he whispers, “we need a little time together, the two of us.”

  So I drive out of the library parking lot. We go to a drive-thru for sodas, then on to the deserted hotel where I park in our secret place. Clouds in the sky obscure the moon. I lean close to Danny.

  “My parents are having a party a week from Saturday. Will you come?”

  “Is your mom still mad at me?”

  “No. I told her you had to help Alex’s sick uncle—that’s why you left in a hurry, without calling her, and why you didn’t get back on time.”

  “Thanks,” Danny says.

  “So will you come?”

  “Sure. I like a party,” Danny says with a laugh. “I live in a party right now, at Alex’s.”

  Danny opens one of the little bottles he seems to always have handy and pours it into his soda.

  “I think the party my mom and dad are planning is different than Alex’s,” I say, laughing.

  “Yeah. For instance, there’ll probably be food and no fights. Ever since Joey got back someone’s always getting in a fight.”

  “Why?”

  “Joey’s nuts, that’s all. Alex tries to keep him in line, but he’s worse than ever since he got out of camp.”

  “What was he in for anyway?”

  “Alex never told me. It must have been something sort of bad though because he was in for over two years. That’s a long time for a juvenile.”

  “Juvenile?”

  “Yeah. He was only seventeen when he went to camp.”

  “Did it help him?”

  “It helped him get buff. All he did there was lift weights. He was as skinny as Alex when he went in.”

  “He and Alex seem really different for brothers.”

  “Lots. You know, Alex may smoke a little bud, but he’s a friend to the end. I don’t think Joey cares about anything. He really gets to me sometimes. Like, the other night, he came into the room where I was sleeping, where I always sleep, and he told me to get up, it was his house and he wanted that bed.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Man, I was sound asleep. I just lay there, with him poking and yelling at me. Then Alex’s mom came in and got him to leave.”

  “Maybe you should go back to your dad’s.”

  “No way. Alex and I will get a place together really soon. Alex wants out of there, too. Joey’s helped us out some, but you never know what that guy’s going to do.”

  Danny kisses me. “When I get a place, then you and I’ll have a place to be, too. No more climbing through windows, or wrestling in the back seat of a car . . . But for now . . .”

  Danny gets out of the car and motions for me to do the same. We get into the back seat, where there’s more room. When it’s over, when I’ve wiped the tears from Danny’s cheeks, when we’re holding each other so close I can’t tell Danny’s heartbeat from my own, I wonder about April’s statement—that most girls have sex just to please the boy, and that they regret it later. I don’t think that’s how it is with us. I know how important it is to Danny, and how comforting, and tonight—maybe tonight I came here more for him than for me. Thoughts crowd in on me, the library work not done, the time, am I late?

  I take Danny’s hand from where it is resting, fingers in my hair, and bring it eye-level so I can see his watch. 10:15! I sit up straight. “We’ve got to go! I said I’d be home by ten.”

  Danny raises up groggily and straightens and buttons his clothes. I get my clothes straightened, too, then we get in the front seat and I take Danny back to Alex’s. Danny takes a little bottle from his jacket pocket and pours it into his empty soda cup.

  “Do you ever think you’re drinking too much of that stuff?”

  “I can quit whenever I want. You want me to cut back? I’ll cut back. These are just little bottles, anyway. Don’t worry.”

  Chapter

  12

  Two days before the party we start cleaning and cooking. My gramma, my mom’s mom, comes to help with food. She’s the one I’m named after—Joan.

  We’ll have beans and tamales, traditional Mexican stuff, and also ham and potato salad. My dad’s really into it. It must get boring in Germany without us. He eats in the officers’ dining room all the time, I guess, so when he gets home he wants to pig out on all his favorite foods.

  I’d rather work outside with Dad and Kitty, than in the kitchen, so I start cultivating the flower beds. Dad’s all frustrated though, because the lawnmower stopped working when he was only half­way finished in the front yard.

  Gramma comes out onto the porch. She’s wearing an apron that comes down past her knees, and her coarse gray hair is pulled back and held in check by a rubber band. She’s wearing my old slippers. My old slippers? I stand, stunned, knowing what was in the toes of those slippers.

  “Check the gas,” she yells to my dad.

  Dad gives her a look like, DUH!

  “I did that,” he says. “Get back in the kitchen.”

  They both laugh. She’s back out in an instant with a big spoonful of potato salad. “Taste this,” she says.

  He puts it all in his mouth in one big bite. “Yum,” he says. “If I

  wasn’t already married to your daughter, I’d ask you to marry me.” She smacks him on the shoulder, playfully, then goes back inside. I follow her, trying not to show I’m in a hurry, pretending I’m interested in what they’re doing in the kitchen.

  Then I wander nonchalantly back to my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I get down on my hands and knees to check for my slippers. Maybe Gramma has a pair just like mine. No. My slippers are gone. But there, on the floor where they used to be, are the two condoms I have left, and the can of foam. My heart beats fast and I feel all shaky.

  Now what? I know for a fact my gramma thinks sex outside of marriage is a giant sin. My face is
hot with embarrassment. Maybe I can spend the rest of my life hiding in my closet. But I guess not.

  I take the condoms and foam, wrap them carefully in an old T-shirt, and stash the T-shirt in the bottom drawer of my chest, in the back, under a stack of other T-shirts. I’ve never seen my gramma wearing a T-shirt. It should be a safe hiding place.

  I call Danny, dreading talking first to Mrs. Kendall, or Alex, or worst of all, Joey, but today Danny’s the one who answers.

  “Danny?”

  “What’s up. Pups?”

  “Something terrible. My gramma’s walking around, wearing my

  slippers.”

  “So?”

  “So. You know. My slippers! The ones I keep the condoms and foam hidden in. Lots of times when she’s here she borrows my shoes, but those were way in the back. What’ll I do?”

  “Hey, don’t get all stressed out. She probably doesn’t even know what that stuff is,” Danny says. “Besides, shouldn’t she be glad you’re responsible?”

  “But Danny! She’s super religious! I’m scared. What if she tells my parents?”

  “Listen, why don’t you come over here for awhile. Relax.”

  “I can’t. I’m supposed to be helping with the party. But maybe you could come over here? If you helped out you might get back on my mom’s good side.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Do they have a lawnmower over there we could borrow? Ours

  quit working.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Alex is having trouble with his car, though. Can you come get me?”

  “Okay,” I say. “Check about the lawnmower, would you? I know Dad’ll let me use the car if it includes coming back with a lawnmower.”

  I wait for awhile for Danny to check the garage. What is my gramma thinking about me right now? I’m so embarrassed!

  “No power mower, but there’s an old push mower. Why don’t I bring it over? I’ll mow the lawn for your dad.”

  Danny can be so sweet sometimes.

  I walk through the kitchen, afraid to look at my gramma, wondering if she is really watching me from the comer of her eye, or if I am imagining things. I go out the back door and walk around to where my dad is still fiddling with the lawnmower.

  “Can I borrow the car and go get Danny? He’s got a push mower he can bring over.”