Girl from Mars (13 page)

“No, it isn't a crime,” I say softly.

“Anyway, it's nobody else's business,” Laura says.

Then we say nothing more, just stare out the window.

***

The closer we get to home, the more restless Laura becomes. At one point she grabs her tobacco and says, “I'm going to find the smoking section.” And then she leaves.

Phillip groans as she closes the compartment door behind her. Looks at me.

“What?” I snap.

“Nothing. Really.” He sighs briefly and shakes his head.

“For God's sake, what's the matter?”

“Do you love her?” he asks finally.

“Yes! Why?”

“Because that's the most important thing, isn't it?” he says quietly.

I nod.

Laura comes back stinking of smoke.

“You don't even have to smoke yourself in the smoking section, it's that smoky in there. Can you believe it?” she says, and then she goes quiet again.

***

The stop after the next one is ours. I gather my things together slowly. Phillip also starts to get restless. Only Laura stays sitting in her seat, staring out the window. It got dark long ago.

When the train arrives, she says, “Home, sweet home.” She stands up and gets her things. We get off.

Mum is standing in front of the station and she waves at me.

“Hurry up, I'm in a No Stopping zone.” Then we drive off. Laura stands there and waves at me slowly as we drive past.

“So, did you have a good time?” Mum asks.

“Yes.” Everything is different now.

“Did you behave yourself at this uncle's place? And thank him?”

“Yes.” Maybe. Oh, shit, I have no idea.

“Leave your laundry out tonight and I'll throw it in the wash first thing in the morning.”

When I was little, everything was simple and straightforward, and there was a solution to every problem. Now I suddenly don't know anything any more, and things just get more and more confusing.

Mum turns to me.

“Why couldn't you walk home from the station? Do you have any idea what gas costs?”

Maybe I was sleeping and I woke up, but I'm still dreaming.

That must be it.

16

Maybe this is a love story now. An affair. No. Not an affair. It's a secret. Laura and I see each other every day at school but that's all. Her mother has come home.

“I'll come over to your place later,” she says. And then she doesn't come.

Nobody must know. Whatever it is is just for the two of us.

“You and me,” she says as she kisses the end of my nose before Suse and Ines arrive. At home I wait for her. I listen to Annie Lennox on the tape that I have listened to hundreds of times — “I Love to Listen to Beethoven.” Madonna. The Breeders and Edie Brickell. “This Is Not a Love Song.”

But then, everything sounds like a love song. Absolutely everything.

It's weird at school. The days rush by, but nothing is important. Not the work that we copy down. Not Suse's new haircut, that she has to point out to me after the weekend. I just live for the small moments when we're alone.
This is nobody else's business. And Laura winks at me.

It's like when you make a wish. If you say it out loud, it won't come true. So I stay quiet and don't say anything.

It is what it is.

And Laura just says, “You and me.”

And that's all that matters. She doesn't say anything else.

No. It's not a crime.

***

“How come you didn't come yesterday?” I ask her on Thursday.

“I'm sorry.” She gives me a little kiss, nothing more. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow evening. We can meet at my place, okay?” She smiles, takes my hand, strokes it lightly. Then we hear Suse and Ines coming and she drops my hand. The door opens and she sticks a cigarette in her mouth.

“We get our math assignments back today,” says Ines, and Suse groans.

God, who gives a shit? I won't be alone with Laura until tomorrow. Not today. And she didn't say why she didn't come yesterday, either. Who cares about math?

They have no idea how little I care about it.

“So, Miriam, Ines says you've got a big crush on someone,” Suse says. I can see on her face that she can't wait to hear all the details.

I look over at Ines, who is suddenly busy rummaging around in her backpack.

“What's his name?” She doesn't even seem to blink.

Laura hands me a cigarette.

“It doesn't matter,” I say.

“What do you mean, it doesn't matter? You finally have a chance to lose your virginity and it doesn't matter?” Suse smiles.

If I were to tell her now...

“Maybe,” I say, “I just have no desire to discuss my love life with someone who insists on telling us every fucking detail about her own shitty little life, whether we're interested or not!”

Ines holds her breath. Laura takes a drag on her cigarette and stares at Suse, too. Suse's smile turns wooden, and something in her glance seems to shift.

“Oh, so sorry that I'm always full of shit. So have you told Laura?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, what do I know? The two of you are such damn good friends all of a sudden, eh, Laura?” She glances away from me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the way Laura just shakes her head quietly and whispers something so soft that only I can hear it: “Suse, you pathetic little bitch.”

Then everything is quiet. Nobody says anything else. Laura stands up when the bell goes and pulls me up. As I stand up I look back at Ines for a second, and then we leave.

***

FUCK IT ALL!

I am going crazy. I thought being in love was supposed
to feel good and right. None of this maybe-tomorrow-but-not-today business.

It shouldn't matter who you're in love with.

Now I'm at home. I am going to bake a cake, because I have to do something.

Flour, sugar, eggs, ground nuts, butter, vanilla, baking powder, a pinch of salt. That's it. Preheat the oven and spread the batter in the pan. Shove it in the oven. Sit on the floor and stare at the oven window for about an hour until the batter rises and turns golden.

I open the oven door and stick a toothpick in the cake. When I pull it out there's still wet batter on it. Needs a bit longer.

I wait. The kitchen smells good. I put on the kettle to make tea.

The water boils, I pour the tea and check the cake again. Now it's done. I take it out of the oven and smell it. Mum comes into the kitchen.

“How's it going, sweetie?”

“Good.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” I drop the tea bag into the sink.

“Did you get your math back?”

“Yes. Got a B minus.”

“Good.” She stares at the cake. “Are you bored or something?”

“No. Yes.” I take a cup out of the cupboard and pour myself some tea. It's too hot. I turn the cake pan upside down, but the cake doesn't come out.

“Mr. Lorenz couldn't stop talking about his son in biology class today,” I say. “About how fantastic he is and all the stuff he's accomplished. And about how it would be good if we followed his example.”

“Teachers' children!” Mum mutters.

I take a knife and carefully loosen the cake from the sides of the pan.

“And then someone asked him what he would do if he found out his son was gay.”

“Who came up with that?”

“I have no idea. At any rate, Lorenz got really uptight and just said, ‘My son is not gay,' and then the arguing went on until finally he said that if his son did turn gay, then he would no longer be his son.” I've loosened one side of the cake so far.

“Men! Ask your father what he would do if Dennis suddenly came home with a boyfriend.”

“Dad would make mincemeat out of him. But it's dumb, right? I mean, Mum, what would you do if I was in love with...another girl? Instead of with a guy?” One more side of the cake to go.

“Oh, honey, I don't think...” She hesitates briefly. “Well, as long as it was what you wanted, I wouldn't care if your friend was male or female.”

I turn the cake over and it slides out of the pan. Then I turn and look at Mum. She's smiling. And behind her, standing in the doorway, is Dennis, and he is staring right at me.

17

I keep thinking about that night. And then I hear Massive Attack.
When there's trust, there'll be treats; when we fuck we'll hear beats
.

Funk. Weird.

When I stroke my belly and push up my shirt and feel the landscape of my skin, and when I feel myself, I hear myself breathing. When I pull off my shirt and my hand reaches down into my underpants and I feel warmer and warmer in my belly I get this feeling like, What's going to happen now, and I feel the hair between my legs and start moving to the rhythm of the music. Laura, I think then, as I breathe in and out. And all I want is her hand on me and to kiss her and not wait any longer.

Fucking isn't the same as making love. It's not about pink hearts and daisies.

And then I want to be loud, but I have to be quiet because Mum and Dad are light sleepers and the music won't drown out my sounds. That's when I want her here
and it makes me crazy that she is on the other side of town, because she doesn't belong there.

When we fuck we hear beats. Here, right here. This is how it's going to be.

***

Today. Today is Friday.

I'm supposed to be at her place at eight. But at seven she arrives at my house with that look on her face.

“What's the matter?” I ask.

“Nothing.” She goes out to the balcony, and I put on my pants, first one leg, then the other, and I pull them up and do them up.

She's lit a cigarette and she looks out over the neigh-bor's roof where a skylight is shining. It's Rudi next door, building his model airplanes upstairs.

“Tell me.” I sit down beside her.

“I SAID IT'S NOTHING!”

I sit there and try to pull my legs up, but the bench is too narrow.

“I told Phil I was coming over. He'll be here soon.”

That's just great.

I go down to the basement and grab a couple of bottles and take them back up to my room. My father never notices how many beers there are.

“Mi, I...” Laura starts.

I stand there with the bottles in my hand and wait, but she doesn't say anything more.

Then she takes me in her arms and holds me tight.

We don't talk much. Why do you need to talk when you can just look at each other, or hold each other's hands and feel each finger, feel how warm this other person's skin is, how it reacts to your touch. And when the music fits, the way it does now. Every song fits. Every song says, “Laura is here.” Every song says, “Laura has landed, landed on my little planet, and she's here to stay and kissing me and smoking on my balcony.” Every song tells you how good these moments are.

When Phillip comes, everything gets weird. We haven't said what we want to do so we just stay at my place, lighting candles and sitting on the balcony. The three of us, even though I imagined this evening would be different. We just sit here listening to music — Laura and I holding hands, Phillip wearing a sweater he's borrowed from me.

It's all so weird. It feels like the last night at summer camp, but I don't know why. Everything is very peaceful. Everything feels right, here on the balcony. Everything feels right.

Laura stays after Phillip leaves. She stays until late. She doesn't leave until after Mum and Dad are in bed. We say good night. A good-night kiss. And then another. Then more smiles and more kisses and more good-nights. Don't ask whether she's coming back or when we'll see each other again, just say sleep tight, just look up at the sky again and hold her hand a bit tighter.

Good night, Laura, good night.

Good night, Mi.

***

When I close the door, Dennis is standing there.

The hall is dark. Only the outside light shines through the glass of the front door. We stand there in silence.

Then he says, “Want to go back up to the balcony?”

I nod.

Dennis and I sit beside each other on the bench and freeze.

He starts to smoke.

Then he says slowly, “It's okay. Mum's right. Even if it's none of my business, it's okay.” He holds out his cigarette so that I can take a drag. “Are you all right?”

I nod.

“Then it's all okay,” he says.

PART III

1

Laura isn't at school. Not on Monday, not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. Maybe she's sick, though nobody else seems to care. I call her, but I just get the answering machine. I go over to her place, but no one answers the door.

One, two days without any message. At one point I find myself standing in front of a gumball machine. What did she really want here? I look and look, but all I see are gumballs. Small, different-colored balls.

I don't hang out in the girls' washroom in the mornings any more. I get to school right on time if I can, sometimes a bit late. Suse avoids me. Suddenly she's talking to Ines a lot.

On Thursday Laura still isn't at school.

I'm standing beside my bike, unlocking it.

“Hey!” It's Ines.

“Hey,” she says again.

I fumble with the lock for a long time.

“I'm sorry,” she says.

The lock springs open. I look up.

Ines is standing there with her hands in her pockets.

“I shouldn't have told Suse. I thought it was something nice for you, and I was so happy for you. But I should have known.”

“Known what?” I'm holding the bike lock in my hand, the key swinging from it.

“That Suse is the last person who would be happy for you. I never should have told her.” Ines gives me a crooked grin. “I'm sorry.”

I know she means it. That she's not just saying it.