Summer of Seventeen Page 11

  My cheek throbbed. I held onto the pain, because it was all I had left.

  I was still dazed by what had just happened. I couldn’t believe that Yansi had gone off at me like that. Well, I could—and I didn’t blame her—but she wouldn’t even listen to me.

  I dug my hands into the covers and pulled the pillow over my head as my throat closed up, and I felt the burn of tears starting. I forced them back along with the pain in my chest.

  Yansi was gone and I’d never even had the chance to tell her that I … how I felt about her.

  I couldn’t even bring myself to think the ‘L’ word, let alone say it. Not that there was any point now.

  Losing Yansi was worse than losing my mom. I know that sounds fucked up, but watching Mom get sicker and sicker, weaker and thinner every day, seeing her in so much pain, I wanted her to die. I wanted her to give up. I sat by her fucking hospital bed day after day praying that tonight was the night when she’d die. If I’d had the guts, I’d have done it myself. I could see the look on her face when she woke up, asking, Why am I still here? And I’d say, “It’s okay, Mom. You can let go now. Please just let go, Mom. We’re going to be okay. I promise we’ll be okay. We’ll look after each other.”

  So yeah, I wished my mom would die. And then she did, and I missed her so much. Not the sick woman, the woman who smelled of piss and shit because she couldn’t control her body anymore: that wasn’t my mom.

  I remembered the woman who made me pancakes and cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and loved to laugh and dresse up to go out on the town with Aunt Carmen. Her hair was so pretty—before it all fell out.

  My mom was beautiful, and the cancer made her ugly.

  I didn’t even register when Julia knocked the first time. The second time, I ignored her, but she came in anyway.

  I felt the mattress move as she sat down, and when she started tugging at the pillow, I didn’t fight it.

  Knowing that whatever lecture she felt the need to give was on its way, I sat up and slumped against the headboard. But she surprised me.

  “I’m sorry, Nicky,” she said. “Sorry about Yansi. I know that you … that she meant a lot to you.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered.

  “Tell me what happened?”

  So I told her the whole sordid story again, but this time she listened without yelling.

  “That’s really fucked up,” she said softly, once I’d finished.

  “I know.” My voice was bitter.

  “Did you tell Yansi everything?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t get the chance, did I?”

  “But this happened on Friday. You’ve had since then to tell her. Didn’t you think…?”

  “Of course I fucking thought!” I snapped. “I’ve thought about nothing else. I nearly cut my damn foot off at work, because I was thinking about how to tell her!”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Because! Because it seemed … selfish. I get to tell her—big confession, right? And she has to hear that I’ve … been with another girl. I thought … I just thought that it would be better that she didn’t know, but now…”

  Julia shook her head sadly. “I don’t think Yansi sees it that way. But I get it, I do. In your own messed up way you were trying to protect her. But it must look to her like you just got caught.”

  “I know,” I said wearily. “I’ve blown it with her.”

  Julia sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Give her a day or so to cool off, then try texting her. Don’t give up if she’s what you really want, Nicky.”

  “Are you ever going to call me ‘Nick’?”

  “Probably not,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, a small smile on her face.

  We sat in silence for a moment, lost in our thoughts.

  “So, what about you and Ben?” I asked.

  I’d gotten used to having him around, and even though Julia hadn’t seemed that happy with him, she was a helluva lot more miserable without him. I knew what that felt like.

  “Are you guys trying to work it out?”

  Her face twisted and she looked down at her hands. “I guess I’m better at giving advice than taking it.”

  “Ben’s a good guy,” I said. “He’ll see that you didn’t do anything.”

  “You don’t even like Ben,” she murmured. “You think he’s boring.”

  “No, I don’t.” She skewered me with a look. “Okay, I do think he’s boring,” I admitted. “But he’s still a good guy. Puts up with all your crap.”

  She sighed. “I guess he reached his limit.”

  “Then … you were … hitting on Marcus?”

  Julia stared out of the window. “I don’t know. Not really. Maybe I was. He’s just so … I don’t know, different. He’s been all over the world. I’ve never even left Florida, except to stay with Aunt Carmen in Detroit after she moved away. And I’ve dated Ben since I was 18. Maybe I was bored, but…”

  “But?” I prompted her, a little bit amazed that she was really talking to me.

  “But I don’t know. I don’t know if I would have … gone through with it. I mean, yeah, Marcus is hot…” she smiled at the look of revulsion on my face. “Well, he is. Obviously. But … he’s not Ben. But I don’t know … and that’s why I haven’t called Ben.”

  I nudged her shoulder. “Give him a few days then try texting him. I hear that works sometimes.”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Anytime.”

  She sighed, then looked up to meet my eyes.

  “Look, about Yansi … she’s just hurt right now; her pride’s been dented. No girl likes to think that her boyfriend is sleeping around…”

  “I’m not!” I protested hotly.

  “I know, but … that’s how it looks … like you’ve gone from her bed to that skank’s and…”

  “I haven’t,” I interrupted. “I mean, me and Yansi … we haven’t … done that…”

  The words trailed away as Julia stared at me.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake! I’m not sleeping with Yansi! Okay?”

  “But … I thought…”

  “Well, you were wrong,” I said sourly.

  She looked at me carefully.

  “So … this thing with Erin … are you sure you weren’t just aiming to get laid or…?”

  “No! I didn’t want it to be with her!”

  Her eyes grew wider, and she chewed on her lip before speaking.

  “Nicky, are you saying … are you saying that this … with Erin … was that your first time?”

  I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I studied the hole in the hem of my t-shirt.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  There was silence, and after a few seconds I couldn’t stand not knowing what she was thinking. When I looked up, her face was pitying.

  “I’m so sorry, Nicky. No one’s first time should be like that.”

  I sighed.

  “Yeah, well. Too late to do anything about it now.”

  “I just thought … I just assumed that you’d been sleeping with girls for years.”

  I looked at her curiously.

  “Why did you think that?”

  “Well, Sean…”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s been hooking up with Lacey Russo for about a year now—I know her sister, and she told me. She was furious because she caught them at home once while their parents were away. And Sean’s always talking about some girl or other that he’s banging…”

  That was true, although I wasn’t sure I always believed him.

  “And he was forever going on about girls you’d met at parties,” she continued, “so I just assumed that you were both…”

  “You assumed I was sleeping around. Fuck. You assumed I was cheating on Yansi all this time!”

  Julia’s expression was guilty.

  “Well, that’s how it looked.”

  A lot of things made sense no
w: why Yansi and Sean hated each other so much. She thought he was encouraging me to dip my dick in every girl who looked at me; and he thought she was uptight and possessive, keeping me on a leash when I wasn’t getting any.

  I was so dumb not to have seen all that before.

  “It made me angry to think that you were behaving like that after everything Mom went through.”

  I chewed over my question before I asked it.

  “Do you know what happened with her … and my dad?”

  She frowned. “No, she never said. I was only five—I don’t remember any guy in particular.” She looked at me sympathetically. “You never asked her?”

  “I meant to…”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

  Julia’s dad still sent her birthday cards. He lived in Alberta now and had a new family. But at least she knew who he was, and he knew who she was. I didn’t even know if my dad knew that I existed.

  “Mom kept a box of documents in the loft space above the garage,” she said tentatively. “There might be something in there…”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Maybe I’ll take a look sometime...”

  She nodded, then stood up and smoothed down the covers where she’d been sitting

  “You’re not bad for a little brother, Nicky. When you’re not being a giant pain in my ass.”

  “Ditto.”

  She smiled and closed the door behind her.

  Wow. I guess that’s what you call having a conversation.

  Julia was doing better. She’d gone around to see Ben, and she said they talked and decided to take a break for a while. She wasn’t happy about it, but I didn’t think it was such a bad idea. Not that I said that to her. Hell, no! But if she really was bored with Ben, having some more time apart might make her see if she really wanted him or not.

  It only took a week before Ben was back with Julia. I guess he’d forgiven her or something. I’d heard her talking on the phone late at night—crying sometimes.

  I don’t know what she said to him, but it must have worked. Or maybe he missed her. I guess it was possible.

  One morning I woke up, and he was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee, just like always.

  I was actually pretty happy to see the guy. He was calm, and somehow seemed to handle the craziness that was Julia.

  I was grateful, too: any more ‘bonding’ time with my sister, and I’d have been joining the crazy train myself. As it was, for the past 10 days, I’d had to listen to her over-analyzing everything Ben had said or not said, done or not done, for hours. I had no idea girls spent so much time talking about guys like that. I really wished she had a girlfriend she could talk to.

  And it made me wonder what Yansi was saying to Megan or Esther about me. Nothing good, I guess.

  Megan had never liked me all that much, and Esther had liked me too much. So it was anyone’s guess what they were saying. All I knew was that Yansi wasn’t talking to me. She was refusing to take my calls or return my messages. I was still working for her old man, but I didn’t know how long that would last if she told him what I’d done. Probably less than a second.

  I was bored and miserable.

  Sean had gone to North Carolina for a week to see his grandparents, and Rob was spending a week in the Bahamas with his family.

  So I decided to go for the offer Marcus had made of bussing tables at the Sandbar a couple of evenings a week and on Saturdays if they needed me.

  This summer was turning out to be less fun than dental surgery. I wasn’t even sure it was my fault. What happened with Erin, hell, no one could blame me for that. Well, Yansi could. And did.

  I showed up the first evening wearing the uniform tee and a clean pair of jeans. They were still slightly damp because I’d forgotten to wash them the day before and they hadn’t had time to dry fully. I’d have been more comfortable in shorts but Steve, the manager, said all the guys had to wear long pants, even though I wouldn’t be serving customers.

  My training took all of five minutes: clear tables, stack the dishwasher, press the button, empty the dishwasher, and any of the shit jobs that no one else wanted to do, like cleaning the ashtrays from the patio. I didn’t care much, and even if I did, I could use the money. I got a share of the tips at the end of the night, too.

  It was my second evening shift, and I’d been allowed a 15 minute break while it wasn’t busy. I was sitting outside when I told Marcus what had happened with Erin. I was hoping that he’d tell me what to do, or at least have some ideas … because he was older and had a lot of girlfriends, I guess.

  But after laughing his ass off, he didn’t seem to think it was important.

  “It happened. Either your girl will get over it or she won’t. If she doesn’t believe you, then move on. And it’s a great story—I might have to use that some time.”

  “But it’s true!” I complained. “I was wasted. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”

  Marcus laughed again.

  “Keep telling yourself that, kid, but from anyone else’s point of view, you fucked some girl who was all over you at a party when your girlfriend wasn’t around. No guy would blame you. But I gotta tell you, I don’t think … what’s her name? Yansi? I don’t think she’s the forgiving type. She’ll be bringing it up in every argument you ever have.”

  “Yansi isn’t like that.”

  He glanced over, his expression amused.

  “They’re all like that. They say they’re not, but they are.”

  “Not her.”

  He grinned as he shook his head, then closed his eyes, sitting back in his chair, face to the setting sun.

  “Sure she is. She’s a ball buster. Why do you want to get her back when you could have any chick? Je-zus! You dated her for four months; you work for her old man … before you know it, she’ll have a ring on her finger, a kid on the way, and you’ll be standing in front of her priest saying ‘I do’.”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t let them tie you down, kid. That’s a shortcut to being miserable for a very long time.”

  He looked at me slyly.

  “Emma asked me if you were single.”

  “Who?”

  “Chick with the rose tattoo on her shoulder.”

  I knew who he meant. She was one of the servers and had started at the Sandbar a couple of days before me.

  “What did you tell her?”

  Marcus smiled. “I said she should ask you herself.”

  I frowned. “I’m trying to work things out with Yansi.”

  “Then tell her that,” he said, sounding bored. “It’s your life.”

  That was Marcus’ answer to pretty much everything.

  I wanted to ask him some more, but break time was over.

  I went back to bussing tables, clearing glasses from the happy hour rush.

  Then Frank walked in with an older guy that I’d seen around but didn’t know. Marcus set them up with a couple of beers without being asked. I got the impression that they stopped by at this time every evening.

  They were talking about the crappy surf conditions when a noisy group of girls came in: out-of-towners. From the way they were swaying, I guessed they’d already been partying somewhere else. One of them was wearing a bride’s veil and a tiara. It was pretty clear they were on their way to a bachelorette party. Or maybe this was the party.

  Instead of taking a table, they perched on bar stools and fluttered their fake eyelashes at Marcus.

  “Four Mojitos, gorgeous, and a Sea Breeze,” said one of them, throwing her American Express card onto the bar.

  “Coming up,” said Marcus, smiling easily.

  “Anything else coming up?” she giggled.

  The girl wearing the veil laughed, sounding a little embarrassed.

  “Holly! Leave the poor guy alone. Sorry about her,” she said to Marcus. “She’s just had a bit too much to drink.”

  “No problem,” Marcus replied, easily. “I hope you guys have fun t
onight.”

  But then someone else caught their attention, and they all started laughing their asses off.

  “Oh my God! Did you see what that woman was wearing?” shrieked one of the others in the party as they all laughed loudly.

  “I know! There must be a trailer park around here.”

  “Whose idea was it to come here anyway?”

  “Think of it as a sort of sociological experiment, Tanya!” laughed the bride

  “Who knew you could get BOGOF tattoos?”

  “Oh God! Totally!”

  Wow, these women were trashed. And loud.

  One of them grabbed my ass as I passed with a tray of glasses.

  “The scenery isn’t bad though.”

  I nearly dropped the tray, and the glasses clinked together dangerously.

  “Hey!” I complained.

  “Aw, he’s cute!”

  She drew out the word in a sickly way.

  Marcus raised his eyebrows.

  “Sounds like she’s a sure thing, kid.”

  I tried to tear myself away from her claws and glanced over my shoulder. The woman winked at me and did this gross thing with her tongue that I guess was supposed to be hot, then she pinched my ass. She looked older than my sister. I shook my head—no freakin’ way.

  “Yeah, cute … if you prefer brawn to brains,” snickered the one named Tanya, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

  “Who doesn’t?” laughed another.

  “Oh my God! You’re such a slut, Libby!”

  “I like to be able to at least have a conversation with a guy.”

  I couldn’t believe they were talking about me as if I wasn’t standing right there.

  “Who needs conversation if the guy looks like him! Come on, you’ve got to admit these surfer-types are hot?”

  Marcus came from behind the bar to help me, taking the tray so I could pry their hands off me.

  “No molesting the staff, ladies,” he smiled.

  “Like minimum wage is such a turn on,” snapped the short one. “Oh, please!”

  What a bunch of bitches. I wondered what collective noun my English teacher Mrs. Lord would give them: a pack of bitches? A coven of bitches?