Alice Alone (12 page)
At lunchtime, I noticed Penny studying me warily from the end of the long table where we ate, but I avoided looking at her. I found myself laughing a little too readily at Mark’s jokes, being flirtatious and silly with Brian, teasing Justin Collier. It was sickening. Exhausting. Pretending can wear you out, and so, about halfway through, I just stopped talking and concentrated on my chicken salad sandwich.
Patrick wasn’t on the bus going home. The band had left for a state competition that afternoon, and
I was glad of that. Pamela got off at the stop with Elizabeth and me, and we walked the block and a half to my house. I held up pretty well until we got up in my room, and then I lay down on my bed and started crying.
Pamela sat on one side of me, Elizabeth on the other. Pamela was stroking my hair, Elizabeth rubbing my back.
“Alice, it wasn’t about ‘everything,’” Pamela said. “Nothing is about ‘everything.’ It had to be more specific than that.”
“We just … we had a big fight,” I said. “He came over last night, and we argued and … and he left. I said some things … he said some things … and … it’s over. We just … just grew apart, I guess.”
Pamela fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I
hate
those words! I hate ‘we just grew apart.’ People say that to explain things, and it doesn’t explain anything at all. Mom said it when she decided to leave Dad for her NordicTrack instructor. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t exactly a huge surprise because there always seemed to be a lot of friction going on between Mom and Dad. They were always fighting about something. But
you!
Alice, you and Patrick have been going together for so long, I almost began to believe in true love.”
“We’re only fourteen,” Elizabeth reminded her. “How can we know what true love is when most of us have never been in love at all?”
I was sobbing again. “I
did
love Patrick,” I said. “I don’t know if it was real love or true love, but I really cared about him. And I thought he c-cared for me. And now he’s going to ask Penny to the Snow Ball.”
“He’s
what?
” Pamela choked, sitting up again. “Just like that? Is that how he broke it to you? Just, ‘I’m taking Penny to the Snow Ball?’”
“No. I … I told him to.”
“You what?” cried Elizabeth.
I had to go over everything Patrick and I had said to each other. Every step we took. How we started out kicking leaves in the street and walked around our whole block, and by the time we were six houses from home, we’d broken up.
“Well, here we are,” Elizabeth said at last, propping one of my pillows against the headboard and leaning back. “Just two months into high school, and all three of us are without boyfriends.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” said Pamela. “I like playing the field. It just bothers me about Alice and Patrick, that’s all. What about you and Justin?”
“I don’t think I want a full-time boyfriend. That’s just not in the picture right now,” Elizabeth said.
Why couldn’t I feel like they did—content to be
unattached? Why did I feel so incomplete without Patrick liking me, calling me, kissing me, touching me, without being his special girl?
“What you have to do, Alice, is let the guys know you’re available,” said Pamela.
“What am I? A hooker?” I asked, blowing my nose.
“You know what I mean. Pretend you like things this way. Flirt with all of them. Act relieved it’s over.”
I shook my head. “Acting’s no good, Pamela. I’ve got to be me.”
“So what are you going to do? Cry in the cafeteria?”
“No, but I’m not going to try to get a boyfriend on the rebound.”
“Good for you, Alice. That’s the worst thing you could do,” said Elizabeth encouragingly. “Just be yourself.”
“My ugly, clumsy, overgrown self,” I said.
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Elizabeth said, and I thought how recently, when she wasn’t eating, we were saying the same thing to her.
“If people start talking about Patrick taking Penny to the Snow Ball, I’ll tell them it was your idea,” said Pamela.
“No, don’t say anything. Don’t go around making excuses for me, please,” I said. “Just let it be. Let Patrick do the explaining.”
I was almost glad my friends had come over, because the more they talked about Patrick and me, the more sick of it all I became.
I felt somewhat better after they went home, and even went down to the kitchen and made a Jell-O salad with fruit cocktail for dinner.
But by the time Lester got home from the university, I was near tears again. The house seemed so quiet.
Too
quiet, because one thing I knew: Patrick wouldn’t call. He was at the state competition, of course, but even if he wasn’t, he probably wouldn’t have called. Perhaps not ever. I struggled not to cry through dinner. Dad was working at the Melody Inn till 9:00 every night that week, going over work that Janice had left behind, so Lester and I were eating alone, and my eyes looked like two pink pillows. Every so often a tear slid down my cheek and chin, landing on my lasagna. I could see Les looking at me sideways.
“Is it … uh … too indelicate to ask what’s wrong?” he said finally, almost gently.
I swallowed. “Patrick and I broke up last night.”
“Ouch!” said Lester. “I’m really sorry, Al. Anything in particular, or was it just time?”
“You mean that a relationship just runs its course, and when it’s time—when it runs out of steam— it’s over?” I asked incredulously, my lips quivering.
“No, I just meant that in ninth grade, with four years of high school ahead of you and another four, at least, of college, you need to run through a number of relationships, and the longer you stick with one guy right now, the more you’re going to have to hustle to work the others in later.”
My face began to scrunch up again, and my voice became mouselike. “I don’t
want
any other guys, Lester. I want P-Patrick! I never liked anyone as much as him.”
“It’s hard, kiddo. No doubt about it.”
“He likes another girl. Penny. She’s cute and fun and petite, and I feel like a horse around her. I can’t stand that he likes her so much.”
“He told you he does? That he likes her more than you?”
“No, but he likes her. He says he likes us both, that he and I should both have a lot of friends.”
“Chalk one up for Patrick.”
“We argued, and I told him if he liked Penny so much, maybe he should just take her to the Snow Ball instead of me, and he said maybe he would.” I started crying again. “Half the time I want to run over to his house when he gets home and bang on the door, begging him to take me back, and the rest of the time I want to bang him on the head and ask how dare he do this to me.”
“That’s exactly why they should lock up girls
around the age of fourteen and not let them out till they’re twenty-one,” said Lester.
We did the dishes together, putting some food away for Dad in case he hadn’t taken time to eat, and Lester said that the pain of a breakup doesn’t go away all at once, but it does go away in time.
After the kitchen was clean, he went up to his room to study and I went to mine. But I couldn’t concentrate. I lay on my back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, and every so often a tear would trickle down and land in my ear. From Lester’s room I heard a song on his radio that Patrick’s combo played once at one of our junior high dances. I just didn’t feel I could stand it. It used to be Dad who was the sad one in our family, with both Lester and me getting along in our love lives, and now it was Dad who was having all the luck, and Lester and me who were out in the cold. Lester and me and Mr. Sorringer, the assistant principal, who was in love with Miss Summers and isn’t over her yet.
And suddenly it seemed as though everybody in the world except Dad was grieving for someone, and that Lester and I might be loveless the rest of our lives. Weeping pitifully, I got up in my stocking feet and padded down the hall to Lester’s room. He was propped up on his bed with text books scattered all around him.
“L-Lester,” I wailed from the doorway.
He looked up, then reached over and turned the volume down on his radio. “Yeah?” he said.
“D-do you think we could be h-happy if you and I just grew old together?” I wept.
“What?”
Lester said and turned the radio down even more.
“If we don’t ever m-marry, Lester, we could always get a house together somewhere. I’d do all the cooking and you could take care of the yard and the p-plumbing, and at least we could look after each other in our old age,” I sobbed.
Lester opened his mouth, then closed it again, and finally he said, “Correction: They should lock up girls when they’re fourteen and not let them out till they’re thirty. Whatever gave you a cockeyed idea like that?”
“I don’t want to go the rest of my life alone!” I wailed.
“So get a roommate! Get a dog! Join the Peace Corps! Adopt some orphans! Al, there are as many ways to enjoy your life as there are people. Just because you’re alone today doesn’t mean you’ll be alone tomorrow.”
“But I want Patrick!” I cried. “If
he
doesn’t want me anymore, how could anyone else?”
Lester pushed his books aside and motioned for me to come over and sit beside him. I was only too
glad. I crawled up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows by the headboard, and snuggled up against him. He even put one arm around me.
“You’re talking a little nutty, Al, you know? Aren’t you the same person you were a couple weeks ago?” He lifted my face with his other hand as though looking me over. “I don’t see any facial hair; don’t see any fangs.”
I just sniffled.
“Fourteen years ago,” Les went on, “Patrick Long was just a squalling little blob of protoplasm in messy diapers who grew up to play the drums. He’s just one of the three billion males on this planet, and—even assuming that he hates you, which I doubt—are you going to let that one sack of skin and blood and bones named Patrick make the decision about whether you are likable or not? Attractive or not? Are you going to let that one squalling blob of protoplasm just fourteen years out of diapers determine your self-esteem?”
I sniffled again. “I thought you l-liked Patrick.”
“I do! But when did you let him have all this power over you? If
he
likes you, you’re witty and beautiful; if he doesn’t, you’re dog doo. Am I right here?”
I just leaned against Lester and didn’t answer, loving the closeness. He smelled of taco chips and beer. He handed me a Kleenex, and I blew my nose.
“The one thing about life, Al, is it’s always changing. Bad things don’t last forever. It’s okay— it’s normal—to feel depressed over this, but it won’t last. Trust me.”
“But if bad things don’t last forever, if everything changes, that means good things don’t last, either,” I countered.
“True. People do die, after all. But most of us find some level at which we can be, if not deliriously happy most of the time—and nobody is— we can be reasonably content, with healthy spurts of excitement and joy. If you care about yourself, then the things that happen outside yourself, things you can’t control, can hurt, but they can’t destroy you. Philosophy 101.”
I could tell from the way Lester shifted his body slightly that his arm was getting numb, but I went right on leaning against him. It was too comforting to give up. “Do you ever miss your old girlfriends?” I asked.
“Some of them.”
“Crystal?”
“I think about her once in a while, and hope she’s happy with Peter. I don’t think it would have worked out if I’d married her.”
“Eva?”
“I’m glad that’s over.”
“The dingbat?”
“Who?”
“Joy what’s-her-name. Do you ever think about her?”
“Never. I’ve forgotten all about her.”
“Marilyn?”
Lester withdrew his arm and rubbed his shoulder. “Yes, I think about her. But right now it’s best if I stick to the books and forget the ladies for the time being. It’s a difficult semester.”
I blew my nose again. I was beginning to feel more like myself. “Now that you’re twenty-two, Les, do you think you’re any smarter? I mean, can a person
feel
himself getting wiser?”
“Definitely. All I wanted at eighteen was my own car, a pretty girl to ride around in it with me, a six-pack, and a good guitar. And right now, none of the above is my first priority.”
I started to grin. “Are you, by chance, wearing any of the birthday shorts we gave you? Some of the girls have been asking.”
Lester contemplated that for a moment, then pulled out the waistband of his jeans and peered down inside. “Yep,” he said.
“Which ones? The boxers with newsprint on them? Ants in the pants? What does the welldressed philosopher of twenty-two wear under his jeans?”
Lester grinned. “Daffy Duck,” he said, and waved me out of his room.
The phone rang about five minutes later, and I dragged it into my room and sat down on the bed. It was Jill.
“Alice, are you okay?” she asked. I guess this meant we were friends again.
“I suppose everyone’s heard by now,” I said in answer.
“Patrick’s a jerk,” she told me. “It’s one thing to flirt with Penny, but another to break up with you.”
I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again. “He’s just … just being honest.”
“How can you defend him like that?”
“Well, he can’t help liking somebody.”
“Of course, Penny’s mostly to blame,” said Jill. I didn’t want to get into this, because I knew she was goading me into saying something against Penny, and everything I said would get right back
to her. “Maybe nobody’s to blame,” I said, my voice flat. “That’s just the way it is. She likes him, he likes her.”
“Oh, stop being so noble,” Jill said. “She’s been making a play for Patrick for months, and everyone knows it. Of course, Patrick could have ignored her, but—”
“Listen, Jill. I’ve got to go. I’ve got homework and stuff.”
“But are you sure you’re all right?”
“No, but I’ll live,” I said.
I hung up and sat with the phone in my lap, staring at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall. I looked a mess. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks streaked with tears. I wear hardly any mascara, but the eye liner on my lower lids was smeared.
