Summer of Seventeen Page 4

  We’d never gotten along. I’d always been in the way, the annoying younger brother, the mistake that should never have been born. She wanted to go off and live her boring life with boring Ben, play it safe. Fuck her. I didn’t need her.

  When the alarm went off on my phone half an hour later, I hadn’t slept for even a minute. A glance in the mirror showed red eyes with dark shadows underneath. I looked like hell. Felt it, too.

  I threw myself in the shower then dressed quickly in an old pair of boardshorts and ratty tee. I didn’t have time to make any breakfast, so I just grabbed a loaf of bread and shoved it in my backpack, along with a wrinkled apple and a bottle of water. I remembered my baseball cap at the last minute. The high pressure was still sitting over us, and it was going to be in the mid nineties today.

  I could already feel a trickle of sweat in my armpits and down my back as I skated to the Alfaros’ house. I hoped I’d get to see Yansi—something that would make this shitty day a little better.

  But Mr. Alfaro was waiting for me, his arms crossed, his face a hard, blank line.

  He didn’t say anything, just jerked his chin toward the truck. I went to open the passenger door, but he laid his hand on my arm and motioned at me to sit in back with the equipment.

  Great. I was so insignificant I didn’t even rate sitting in the truck’s cab.

  I tossed my backpack and skateboard in, then jumped on and slumped against the side of the truck. As he pulled away, I glanced up at the house’s windows and saw Yansi. She smiled and blew me a kiss.

  Suddenly, the day was a little brighter.

  By lunchtime, I had learned one essential truth: Mr. Alfaro was a fucking slave driver and wanted to kill me. Maybe that’s two truths, but I was too tired and pissed to think straight.

  I started by spreading about 20 wheelbarrows of lava rocks. After that, I lost count. Next, I crawled on my belly in dust and spider webs and shit under some lady’s deck, trying to find a leak in a pipe that fed her sprinkler system and fishpond, hoping like hell that there weren’t any snakes. Then Mr. Alfaro made me scoop green slime out of the same freakin’ pond, until I was filthy and stinking.

  I got all the crappiest jobs that he must have been saving up, and he never said more than ten words the whole time, just pointing and grunting.

  Finally, he signaled me to come take a break. My lips were cracked and dry, and my shoulders and back felt burned. I’d taken off my t-shirt hours ago when it was soaked with sweat. It had dried stiff and covered in white salt marks. I pulled it on and tried to wash my hands using the garden hose. I’d drunk two bottles of water, but I’d sweated so much I didn’t even want to piss. Not that the lady of the house would have let me inside. She came out to study the beds where I’d spread the lava rocks and looked at me like I was shit on her shoe. But then she gave Mr. Alfaro the same look, heading back inside without a word.

  I wondered how many lava beds there were in front—anymore than two and I was out of there.

  I sat in the shade of the truck and drank some more water then stared at the loaf of bread I’d brought to eat. It was totally unappealing, and I decided I needed to get my shit together and pack a better lunch tomorrow. If I was still alive.

  I knew Mr. Alfaro was watching me, even though it looked like he was half asleep, his eyes black slits. But every now and then he took another bite of his tortilla, chewing it slowly. It smelt amazing and had my stomach groaning. I forced down another dry slice of bread, nearly choking on it, but hungry, too.

  The owner of the house came out again, passing us as she headed toward the new Benz parked beside the three-car garage. Then she pinned her irritated gaze on me.

  “You!”

  I glanced nervously at Mr. Alfaro, but his face showed no emotion.

  I stood up, feeling uncertain, brushing the crumbs from my t-shirt.

  “You’re new,” she said accusingly.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just helping out Señor Alfaro for the summer.”

  Her lip curled. “Really. Is that the best you can do, working for some Hispanic?”

  My jaw dropped open as she shook her head impatiently and marched away.

  I was totally embarrassed, knowing that Mr. Alfaro had heard every word. I stood there, having no clue what to say, and I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  I sat down again, my appetite gone. What a bitch! I wondered if Mr. Alfaro had to put up with crap like that every day. It sort of made some sense now, why he always insisted on speaking Spanish at home. I would too if I were him, and some white bitch spoke to me like I was scum. Or even worse, couldn’t bring herself to say a single word to me. I wondered why we hadn’t driven somewhere else to eat our lunch, even if we did have to come back later.

  My eyes flickered over to him and I realized he was watching me again. My cheeks reddened, but I hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference because of all the sunburn.

  Weirdly, I felt like I should apologize or something, but that would probably have made it worse.

  Eventually, Mr. Alfaro stood up and jerked his chin at the mountain of lava rocks next to the wheelbarrow. I supposed that meant I should start on the front yard.

  The afternoon passed pretty much the same as the morning. By 4PM, I was nearly keeling over. I was hungry, thirsty, sunburned and every muscle was crying out. I thought I was pretty fit, but everything hurt. Mr. Alfaro just kept going, moving through the day like a swimmer with slow, even strokes.

  He dropped me at my house, and drove away without speaking. I was pretty annoyed about that. Would a ‘thank you’ or ‘gracias’ have killed him? I wasn’t even being paid daily—I’d have to wait until the end of the week for my money.

  I limped into the kitchen for more water and just my luck, Julia was there. Jeez, didn’t she have a life?

  “Where the hell have you been? You look terrible and God!—what is that smell?!”

  “I’ve been working,” I grumbled.

  “Working?” she said suspiciously. “Doing what?”

  I could have ignored her, but fighting took more energy than I had left.

  “Yard work for Yansi’s dad.”

  “Yard work?”

  Was there a fucking echo?

  “Yes.”

  “Oh…” she hesitated, testing whether or not to be pissed about that. “Well, okay then,” she said at last. “How much is he paying you?”

  “How much is the summer program paying you?” I asked sharply.

  Her lips tightened, but I think she must have realized she wasn’t going to win that one.

  “Whatever, but if you’re earning money you should start helping out. A contribution to the grocery bill would something with the amount you eat.”

  That’s when I lost it.

  I pulled the half eaten loaf of bread out of my backpack and threw it at her.

  “Fine! Have the fucking bread! I ate half. You want a dollar for that?”

  I shoved a hand in my pocket and tossed a handful of quarters onto the kitchen table where they bounced and skittered to the floor.

  “Don’t yell at me! You’re acting like a child.”

  I wanted to throw more than fucking bread and a handful of change, so I stormed out of the room and headed for the shower, ignoring her shouted words.

  I locked myself in the bathroom and stood under the water until it ran cold. My skin stung and my muscles ached. Even though my stomach growled, I lay down on my bed and fell asleep.

  I woke up shortly after midnight, wondering why I was conscious. My eyelids felt sore and were tender when I touched them. Shit on a stick—even my eyelids were sunburned.

  I sat up drowsily, and immediately my stomach rumbled. I was so hungry my backbone was sticking to my ribs.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and stumbled into the kitchen then stopped dead. I realized what had woken me: a woman giggling.

  A blonde girl with huge tits spilling out of a tank top was sitting on Marcus’ lap, her mouth glued to his face.

>   Was everything going to make me lose my appetite on this fucked up day?

  “Oh, hey man,” said Marcus, looking up and pushing her away. “Didn’t mean to wake you. This is Gina.”

  “Dina!” giggled the woman, slapping his shoulder playfully but fluttering her false eyelashes at me. “He’s cute! You wanna party with us?” and she held out a bottle of tequila.

  “Um, no, I’m good, thanks. I was just, um, just gonna get something to eat.”

  “Me, too,” laughed the woman as she licked her lips.

  Oh hell, I did not want to know that.

  Marcus smiled. “Come on, peaches. Let’s take the party back to my room. See ya, kid.”

  Shaking my head at the weirdness of the day and world in general, I made myself a baloney sandwich and then, as an afterthought, another two for lunch the next day.

  And then finally, finally, the day really was over, and I headed back to bed and fan-fucking-tastic beautiful oblivion.

  By the end of my first week the alarm on my phone had become an instrument of torture. I was so tempted to just ignore it and go back to sleep.

  But two things made me haul my ass out of bed. One was that last night Julia had laughed when I dragged myself home, and said that I’d never make it at this job. The second was that Yansi had texted me and said that she wasn’t working on Saturday, and did I want to do something.

  Hell, yeah! And I was counting on Mr. Alfaro paying me, so I could take her somewhere nice.

  I was pretty much used to the work and had learned to pace myself. Mr. Alfaro did a ten day rotation, so I’d already met a lot of his customers, although quite a few were out when we were there. Maybe they went to work in air-conditioned offices, sat on padded chairs behind desks and never broke a sweat. The women had maids and nannies and cleaners and kids at summer camp, so I wondered what they did all day. Although a lot of them seemed to make shopping into a hobby. I’d never understood that. I mean, you can only wear one pair of sneakers at a time, right?

  Most of his customers were polite but vague, their smiles sliding away as if it was too much effort to keep one fixed to their face, or to meet your eyes. But a couple were nice. One lady gave us fresh lemonade so sweet I nearly went into diabetic shock, and another had homemade cookies. On those occasions Mr. Alfaro would lean on his spade or his weed whacker and talk in formal English, his face grave and serious. I don’t think I’d ever seen the man smile. If it wasn’t for the fact I saw him chewing his food, I’d have doubted he had teeth.

  At 4PM on Friday, I wanted to yell ‘quittin’ time!’. I stood by his truck, half tempted to stand at attention, but I didn’t think Mr. Alfaro would find that funny.

  When he saw me, he nodded slowly, then reached into his wallet and counted out a bunch of notes. I watched every dollar bill land in the palm of my hand, eyes narrowed, counting hungrily. It was more than I’d expected and I realized he’d paid me for the half hour of my lunch break. I was surprised and I wondered if he’d made a mistake. But Mr. Alfaro didn’t make mistakes, and I wasn’t about to argue with him.

  I muttered, “Gracias, señor,” and shoved the money in my pocket as I went to climb in next to the mower. Then I felt his hand on my arm, and he pointed with his chin at the cab of the truck.

  I must have looked dumbstruck, because he pointed again at the passenger door, then paced around to the driver’s side.

  A weird feeling settled in my chest, something like I’d won an award, something like pride. The only thing I’d ever been good at, I mean better than other people, was surfing. In every other single part in my life, I was average, ordinary, just one of the guys. But now, being allowed to ride up front after sweating my guts out all week … it felt damn fine.

  He dropped me back home and I walked inside wearing his silent approval like armor. Julia’s shit wouldn’t touch me today.

  She was sitting on the back porch drinking coffee when I walked into the kitchen.

  “You survived the week then,” she said.

  I peeled $100 from my small pile and laid the bills on the table. That was my reply.

  I heard her calling after me as I walked upstairs, but she was easy to ignore.

  I showered slowly, letting the hot water wash away the week. One more night before I could see Yansi, and then we’d have the whole day together.

  Mr. Alfaro had made damn sure we didn’t get the chance to see each other during the week, although he couldn’t stop us talking on our cells or texting. Thinking about her, wanting her and not seeing her was torture. I woke up every morning hard enough to pound nails. Every morning and right now. I wanted to feel bad that I jerked off thinking about her. I knew I should, but I couldn’t.

  I didn’t feel like hanging with the guys, but it was Friday and even though I was exhausted from a week of back breaking yard work, I’d arranged to meet up with Sean and Rob. Sean had gotten a car from his parents for his sixteenth birthday and they even paid for his gas, so tonight we were going to drive to Melbourne, eat junk, talk trash and see a movie.

  I’d learned by now that I’d only survive going out after work if I took a quick nap like some old guy. I stretched out on top of the sheets wearing just a pair of boxers, because it was too danged hot and Julia said we couldn’t afford to run the A/C. I dozed, vaguely aware of voices in the house, before it occurred to me that I could hear Julia, and she was laughing.

  And I felt a pang of grief, cold and solid in my stomach, like I’d swallowed a rock. I hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time. No one had.

  I lay there listening, certain it wasn’t Ben who made her laugh. When she talked to him, she sounded pinched and irritated, like how she talked to me, but now her laugh was open and loose.

  And then I heard Marcus’ laughter, floating up weightless.

  I remember this, I thought. We used to laugh in this house.

  I’d known Sean almost my whole life. I wondered sometimes whether we’d be friends if we’d met in high school instead of third grade, because he could be kind of a dick. But when Mom got sick, he stuck around. A lot of people didn’t because it’s a major downer when someone’s dying. Nobody wants to be around you, like the silence will break apart if someone laughs or cracks a joke.

  But Sean stayed. He drove me to the hospital after school every day, and sometimes he’d sit with Mom and tell her all the dumb shit that we did, and I’d see this look on her face like life was normal again, even though she had these tubes all over her. I couldn’t make her look like that because life wasn’t normal and never would be again and I tried, I really tried, but the words choked me and filled my mouth with cotton. So I’d smile like I was the one who was sick.

  Sean never expected anything from me during those days, and he even laid off Yansi. I couldn’t figure out why those two didn’t get along. They tolerated each other, that was all. But with Mom dying, they must have agreed to a truce. I don’t know, they never told me. I asked Yansi why she didn’t like Sean and she said, “he’s a dick,” which I knew. And I asked Sean why he enjoyed making her mad and he said, “she’s a chick.”

  But even though he acted like a douche sometimes, I knew Sean was solid.

  It pissed me off that he resented the time I spent with Yansi, and it was true I didn’t hang with the guys as much, especially at school. But even though he was all about ‘bros before ho’s’, he was the first person to ditch a party if he hooked up with someone. He had a casual thing going with Lacey Russo who was a year ahead of us in school. I think he knew her through his brothers. They hung out at parties, or disappeared into locked rooms at parties. Whatever, good for him. I was glad one of us was getting some action. I could have cheated on Yansi. It would have been easy, because she was almost never allowed out in the evenings, and not to parties, not with me. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t had offers, because I had. I wasn’t squeaky-clean either because sometimes I wanted to, just to know what it was like. But I knew Yansi would dump my ass real fast if I so much as kissed another
girl. Not that anyone else really did it for me anyway.

  Mom gave me ‘the talk’ when I was 12. It’s in the top two of most embarrassing moments ever. The other is changing into my boardshorts on the beach when I was 13, and managing to leave my dick waving in the wind. Sean nearly choked to death he was laughing so hard.

  But ‘the talk’ was a whole other level of excruciating. Mom brought out a pack of condoms and rolled one over a banana to show me how it was done. I couldn’t even think about having a piece of fruit for months, and I haven’t been able to eat bananas ever since. There are some things that scar a guy for life.

  After that, she talked about feelings and how shitty it was (without using that word) when somebody you cared about treated you badly. I always wondered if she was talking about my dad, but I didn’t have the balls to ask. She looked so sad, I felt all sort of hot and queasy inside, like I wanted to punch the fucker who put that look on her face.

  So I can’t cheat. And that’s Mom’s fault.

  Before Yansi, I’d made out with a lot of girls, even getting to third base once, when Wendy de Luca sucked my cock at a party. I lasted about ten seconds, which felt like a world record at the time.

  But I didn’t cheat.

  It was kinda fun hanging with Sean and Rob on Friday night, even though the movie was lame. Sean started hitting on a group of girls who were sitting behind us. He was the annoying guy that everyone kept frowning at and shushing, and the funny thing was, even though he spent the whole movie trying to persuade the girls to come to the beach with us after, as soon as the movie was over and the lights came on, he decided they were dogs and we had to head out fast. See what I mean? Asshole.

  Instead, we drove back to Cocoa Beach and when Rob said he’d gotten hold of some weed, Sean cheered up and we headed down to the pier.

  I was surprised to see Marcus pulling up at the same time as us. I thought he’d be working. I hadn’t seen him since the night I met Gina or Dina or whatever her name was, but tonight he had a dark haired girl with him that I’d never seen before.