But What About Me?

by Marilyn Reynolds

  “Sure,” Dad says. “But I hate push mowers.”

  “Danny says he’ll mow the lawn for you.”

  Dad looks up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He reaches for the keys and tosses them to me.

  “C’mon, Kitty,” I say. “Let’s go get Danny.”

  She does her usual fast wide circle, twice, and then, as soon as I open the door, she bounds into the back seat, smiling. I swear she’s smiling.

  Alex and his brother, Joey, and Danny are in the driveway, standing by Alex’s car, fiddling around with something under the hood. Kitty runs up to Danny, who reaches down to pet her. Joey backs away, a screwdriver poised in his hand.

  “She won’t hurt you,” Alex says.

  “Hi,” Joey says, glancing my way for just an instant, then looking back at Kitty. I’ve never seen anyone be afraid of Kitty before. Alex calls to her and scratches her behind her ears.

  “Pet her, man. She’s cool,” Alex says, but Joey keeps his distance.

  “Here, Kitty,” Danny calls, and she follows him down the driveway and into the garage.

  “Gina broke up with me,” Alex says.

  “Why?” I ask, unable to tell whether Alex even cares or not.

  “Said I was acting like a loser,” Alex laughs. “I told her it wasn’t an act.”

  “Girls are a pain in the ass, anyway,” Joey says, looking at me. “They get all lovey-dovey over you and then they think they own you.”

  “We’d been together over a year,” Alex says, ignoring his brother’s remarks.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind,” I say.

  Alex looks down and shakes his head. I see now that he does care.

  “Forget the bitch,” Joey says.

  I walk back toward the garage, sick of Joey’s remarks.

  Danny comes out, pushing the lawnmower, with Kitty prancing behind him, carrying an old baseball like it’s a great treasure. She drops the ball at Joey’s feet, trying to make friends, I guess. Joey picks it up and throws it, hard.

  “Kitty!” I scream, as she runs full speed down the driveway and into the street, into the path of an oncoming car. I stand frozen, as brakes screech and the car swerves. Then I see Kitty, the ball in her mouth, trot back across the street, wagging her tail. Danny, Alex and I all exhale as in one relieved breath.

  Joey laughs. “Stupid dog,” he says.

  “You’re the one who’s stupid,” I say, leading Kitty to the car and getting in.

  Danny puts the lawnmower in the trunk and we leave.

  “What a total butthole,” I say, feeling all shaky inside over what almost happened.

  “He just doesn’t know anything about dogs,” Danny says.

  “Any butthole in the world knows not to throw a ball out into the middle of a street for a dog to chase after it.”

  Danny leans over and kisses my cheek and nuzzles my neck.

  “What’d your gramma say? Anything?”

  “No. I’ve sort of avoided her since I saw she was wearing my slippers.”

  “She doesn’t even know about that stuff,” Danny says. “She’s old.”

  “I don’t think she’s that old.”

  “Well, even if she knows, I bet she’ll just keep it to herself.”

  “I hope so, but I feel really funny about it.”

  I park our car out front because I know Dad will want to hose down the driveway when we’re all finished working in the yard. He straightens up from where he’s been working in the front flower bed.

  “Hey, Danny,” he says, wiping his hand on his jeans as he walks toward us.

  “You look thinner than the last time I saw you,” Dad says, extending his hand. “Life treating you okay?”

  “Fine,” Danny says with a smile, shaking Dad’s hand.

  “How’s school coming?”

  I hate when my dad does that stuff. He knows Danny’s not in school right now because he’s already asked me about it. Actually, he’s already lectured me about Danny not being in school. I hope he’s not going to start lecturing Danny.

  “I’m sort of on a break from school right now,” Danny says. “I’ll start up again in September.”

  “Don’t let it go,” Dad says.

  “Erica, would you come in for a minute?” Gramma calls to me from the front window.

  Suddenly my mouth is dry and my palms are all sweaty. I go inside, to the kitchen where she and Mom and Rocky are making enchiladas.

  Gramma looks at me and I look away. She hands me a five dollar bill.

  “I forgot cilantro and chipotle chiles. Will you go to that Mexican market over on Hill Street and pick some up? And get some fresh tortillas for our lunch, too.”

  “Sure,” I say, meeting her eyes for a moment. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I hope it’s all related to food.

  At lunchtime everybody takes a still-warm tortilla, or two or three, from the package sitting on the kitchen counter, and spoons beans, rice, salsa and cheese into them. Everybody but me helps themselves to the chorizo Gramma has just fried. I haven’t eaten any little piggies since I decided they had a right to live, too.

  We take our food outside, on the patio.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost December and we’re out here in our shirtsleeves,” Dad says.

  “California has some definite advantages over Germany, doesn’t it?” Mom smiles at Dad.

  “Definite,” he says, leaning over and kissing her.

  Rocky scoots her chair between where Danny and I are sitting.

  “Will you come to my Christmas concert?” she asks him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m singing a solo.”

  “Hey, Rocks, I know about your solo. Remember? You sang it for me.”

  “But will you come to my concert?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. When?”

  “The Sunday before Christmas.”

  Danny reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out an imaginary date book, and pretends to be flipping the pages.

  “Yep, that date’s open. I’ll pencil you in,” he says, acting like he’s writing something.

  We all laugh, especially Rocky and my gramma. But then, I think she ends up looking at Danny in a kind of funny way. This whole thing is making me paranoid.

  Late in the evening, after all of the work is done and things are cleaned up, we rent that movie, “Moonstruck.” My mom loves that movie, like Nicolas Cage is the man of her dreams or something. But it’s pretty funny. My mom and Danny laugh at all the same places, and I can tell she’s not mad at him anymore. And my dad has thanked Danny about a thousand times for bringing over the lawn mower and then mowing the lawn. I really like it when everyone I love gets along together.

  After “Moonstruck” my dad puts a new CD on the stereo.

  “I got this for you,” he says to Mom. He has this big grin on his face that makes him look about ten years younger.

  “Do you remember, do you recall . . .” the strains of an old song

  start. . . “I want to tell you . . .”

  They both start singing when it gets to the part about the “sea of love.”

  “Remember this?” Dad says, taking Mom by the hand and leading her to the middle of the floor.

  They put their arms around each other and sort of dance/sway together.

  “They don’t make music like this anymore,” Dad says to us, then turns back to Mom and kisses the top of her head.

  “I wanna dance,” Rochelle says, pushing between them. They make room for her and dance as a threesome until the end of the song.

  When we’ve heard enough of The Honey Drippers, I take Danny home, with a stop at our secret place first.

  “You’ve got such a great family,” Danny says. “That’s how we’re going to be when we’re married and have kids.”

  I never know what to say when Danny starts talking about getting married, it all seems so far away. I know I want to be with him my whole life, but I always think about marriage like somet
hing in the way distant future, after college and after I’m a vet, which is like about a million years away.

  “Your dad was trying to talk me into joining the army,” Danny says.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He said if I got my G.E.D. and scored high on the Armed Services test I could probably get a good deal.”

  “So?”

  “Nah. I’m not ready for boot camp. Besides, things are going pretty good for me right now,” he says, kissing me.

  I lean my head on his shoulder, remembering how close we came to breaking up just a few weeks ago, and thinking how good things have been between us since then.

  When I get back home, about one o’clock in the morning, my mom and dad are still up. The house is decorated for tomorrow’s party, but they don’t look happy. They’re in the family room, the place they watch TV, but the TV is not on.

  “I’ve got to be at work at nine tomorrow morning,” I say. “’Night.”

  “Sit down,” Dad says, in the voice I’ve heard him use with lower ranking army personnel who’ve not been doing their jobs right. I sit, my heart pounding.

  “Why do you keep condoms and foam in your closet?” Dad asks.

  “And worse!” Mom says. “What do you mean by letting Danny sneak into our house at night? And then acting like I’m crazy, hearing things in the dark?”

  “I never said you were crazy,” I say.

  “Well, you might as well have!”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “What you didn’t say is not the point,” Dad yells. “The point is, you’ve been very sneaky—basically dishonest—and it all has to do with Danny.”

  I don’t know what to say. Apparently Gramma and Rocky found a lot to talk about while I was gone.

  As if he’s just read my mind, Dad says, “Don’t go blaming your grandmother or your sister, either. You’re the one who’s been misbehaving.”

  After a long silence Mom says, “We were talking after you left tonight, saying what a sweet boy Danny is, and maybe he’s past the hard part with his mom’s death and all, he seemed so comfortable here today, and we’re happy for you, that you have a nice boyfriend, and Rocky announces to us that he’s not just your boyfriend, he’s your husband. Well, you know, she always says that and we never pay any attention, but Gramma took it seriously, said how that explained the birth control things she found in your closet.”

  Mom starts to cry, and Daddy puts his arm around her.

  “Then Rocky says she knows you’re married because Danny sleeps in your bed,” Dad says. He looks at me like he doesn’t even know me, and suddenly I understand how Gregor Samsa must have felt when his family saw that he’d turned into a beetle.

  “But, why are you so mad at me? You’ve always warned me not ever to have unprotected sex!”

  “Oh, did I forget to say don’t be a sneak?” Mom says.

  “I’m sure! Did you expect me to come running to you to tell you Danny and I were thinking about having sex? Should I have asked

  you to sign a parent permission slip?”

  “Don’t you get sarcastic with me, Erica! You know damned well what I’m talking about. When I was so worried about prowlers, did it ever occur to you to say that Danny’d been here?”

  Dad draws a deep breath and says quietly, “Erica, look at me.” I raise my eyes and look at him. “We love you, Erica. We’re just trying to understand what’s going on here. We’ve always trusted you to be honest with us and . . .”

  “I love Danny, okay? Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Oh, E.J.,” Dad sighs. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with loving someone, unless it’s turning you into someone you don’t want to be—someone who’s sneaky, or who gets in trouble with the police, or who no longer does well in school.”

  I don’t know what else to say and I guess they don’t either. We just sit there. Finally Dad says, “Let’s call it a night.”

  I walk through the kitchen, picking up the cordless phone on my way. Dad follows me and gently takes the phone from my hand and puts it back on the receiver.

  “Think about this on your own tonight. Morning will be soon enough to call Danny, or April, or whoever it is you want to hash things over with.”

  I lie awake for a long time. It’s a strange feeling, knowing my parents are hurt and disappointed in me. They’ve been mad at me plenty of times before, like for not doing my chores, or for picking on Rocky, but this feels different, like there’s a wedge between us.

  Kitty is stretched out, snoring, at the end of my bed. I give her a nudge with my foot to wake her, and she slowly inches her way up next to me. I pet her silky head, remembering the screech of brakes and the really close call she had earlier today.

  “You’ve got to be careful,” I tell her. “You almost got yourself killed just by playing with that jerk, Joey. You can’t trust everyone, you know?”

  Kitty sidles up closer to me and sighs a long sigh, as if to say I know what you mean. I think how awful it would have been if she’d been hit by that car.

  Chapter

  13

  Ever since our big argument over Danny, I’ve felt awkward with my parents. On the night of their party, I stay just long enough to say hello to people, then go to April’s to spend the night. The first thing we do when I get there is prepare to munch out.

  April and I cover a huge batch of tortilla chips with grated cheese and zap them in the microwave, then smother them in salsa. We get sodas and napkins, and take everything into her room, where she has her own giant TV complete with a laserdisc set-up.

  I borrow a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from April’s vast supply, and we get comfortable. April puts on last year’s Hamilton High softball team sweatshirt.

  “Will you go out for softball again when it starts up second semester?” I ask.

  “Of course. Won’t you?”

  “Of course,” I say.

  We watch April’s favorite movie of all time, “Racing with the Moon.” April is totally in love with Sean Penn.

  “For him I’d throw away my born-again virgin chastity belt,” she says, making us both laugh.

  “He’s too old for you.”

  “Look at him!” she tells me.

  “This movie is not exactly a recent release.”

  “You’re just jealous because he’s not your guy.”

  “He’s not your guy either.”

  “He could be,” she says, all serious, which makes me laugh even harder.

  We talk for a long time about the movie. The scene where Nicolas Cage’s girlfriend goes for an illegal abortion is so sad.

  “That’s how it was in the old days, though,” April says. “Some­times girls died because they’d get infections from having abortions that weren’t done right—Nicolas Cage is such a jerk,” she adds.

  “I know. Here’s this girl going through hell because he got her pregnant, and he can’t think about anyone but himself.”

  “Guys are like that,” April says.

  “Not all of them.” I tell her, feeling somehow as if I have to defend Danny, even though she hasn’t said a word about him.

  April gives me a look, like maybe she wants to say more, but instead she removes the “Racing with the Moon” disc and inserts “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” I go to the kitchen for sodas.

  April’s mom is standing at the kitchen counter with a big bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate chips. She is maxed out in the weight department, but I like her a lot.

  “Oh, hi, Erica . . . Want some?” she says, holding the bowl out for me to take a look.

  “No thanks. April and I have nachos.”

  She asks me the usual adult questions, how’s school, how’re my mom and dad, what are my plans after graduation. I give the usual kid answers, fine and college, and then go back to April’s room.

  “I love this part,” she says, laughing.

  It’s the part where Sean Penn has a pizza delivered to his history classroom.<
br />
  “Wouldn’t old Blakely poop his pants if someone had pizza delivered to his history class?”

  “Even gum chewing gives Blakely a nervous breakdown,” I say.

  We watch the rest of the movie, finishing the nachos and sodas.

  “I’m so full I could barf,” April says.

  I climb into the extra bed and snuggle under the covers. It must be about three in the morning. April turns out the light and gets into her bed.

  “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

  “Me, too. I haven’t laughed this much in a long time,” I say,

  drifting somewhere between being awake and asleep.

  “We should do this more often, like we always used to do, before you got all tied up with Danny Lara.”

  “I’m not exactly tied up.”

  “Whatever,” she says.

  It’s dark in here and I can’t see April’s face, but she sounds angry to me. That’s how she usually sounds when the subject of Danny comes up. She used to like Danny, but not lately. I don’t know why—jealous maybe.

  “Sean Penn was such a burnout in ‘Fast Times’,” I say. Anything to change the subject.

  “At least he wasn’t selling drugs to junior high kids,” she says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know. Sean Penn was only using it, he wasn’t selling it.”

  “So?”

  “So all I’m saying is you can’t complain about Sean Penn when you hang around with Danny Lara.”

  My eyes are wide open now and my head is spinning. What does April mean? And why don’t I want to know?

  “Danny doesn’t even use that stuff anymore,” I tell her.

  “Right, just like he doesn’t drink anymore?”

  “No. I know he still drinks, sometimes too much. But he’s working on it.”

  “Yeah. Like my mom is working on a size eight figure. Get a clue.”

  I hear April turn over in her bed and I know that means she’s ready for sleep. In no time I hear her deeper, steady breathing, but now I’m wide awake. I think about the baggies of marijuana, and the $400 Danny says he has saved, and how he always seems to have money these days.

  Maybe I shouldn’t settle for his “don’t ask, don’t tell” answers. Whatever maybes there are, I know one thing for certain. I’ll do my best to help Danny get back to being the kind of guy he was in the picture that sits on my desk at home. I love him and he loves me. That’s what matters.