My Stupid Girl (19 page)

She looked at me hopefully as I unfolded my
arms from across my chest, freeing my hands, and patted my hair down. I took a
long moment to digest everything. Grandma had never done anything to me in my
whole life to make me question her motives or the way she felt about me. If
there was one person on the entire earth I could depend on to have my best
interests at heart, it was this wonderful lady sitting next to me.

I took a deep breath and told her the whole
truth. The whole story spilled out, from the moment Lucy and I had left the
house that night to the many hours later when I’d returned alone. Grandma
listened intently and didn’t look surprised or upset when I told her that I was
upset because Lucy had been flirting with everyone. When I came to the part
about Rachel, how at first I was going to fight her off but decided to kiss her
because I was mad at Lucy, Grandma’s lips went down a little. I couldn’t tell
if it was disappointment, but it made me feel worse. I practically tripped over
the last bit in my eagerness to be done. I ended with how Lucy had walked away,
basically saying she never wanted to see me again. I left out the blowing smoke
in her face part, and ended with, “and that’s why she hates me now.” My head
had sunk low, to avoid Grandma’s piercing gaze, so the last few words were kind
of mumbled into my chin.

To my great surprise my grandma patted me
on the knee. As I looked at her, she smiled at me. It was a warm, loving, open
smile. She gave it without any judgment in her eyes. My brain instantly flashed
a picture of my mother, smiling the same smile, and my eyes started tearing up
a little. First time ever. I wanted to lean my entire body into my little
grandmother’s body and have her hold me. 

“So, what do you do now?” Her voice
startled me, although it was soft.

“I have no idea.”

“Well, there’s apologizing.” 

“Grandma, it’s been over a month. If I was
going to apologize I should have done it weeks ago. Now it’s like trying to
pull down a mountain of resentment.” I put my hands in my pockets, out of
habit.

“Well, that’s very true, you stubborn
thing. But you still have to make it right.” She was smiling at me to take the
sting out of her words.

“How?”

“By talking to her!”

I snorted. “I can’t grandma, it’s not that
simple,” I answered, irritably. 

“Ah, David, you are confusing one thing for
another. Calling Lucy is very simple. You just pick up the phone and dial. What
it is not is easy. It will not be easy to swallow a month of carefully tended
jealousy, but it’s something you should do, nonetheless.”

I didn’t reply. I was processing the
thought. What she was saying was part of what made it so frustrating. All I had
to do was just walk over to a phone, or take a drive. But that one little
action might be one of the biggest of my life.

Grandma continued. “Tell me, why is talking
to her, talking to anyone for that matter, so hard for you?” My grandma took
her hand off my knee and put it under my chin. This did not change the fact
that she was now totally calling me out.

“Well, let’s face it Grandma, I haven’t
exactly been taught the finer skills of communication.” I was reluctant but
firm.

“You, young man, are going to have to get
over this pathetic habit you have of habitually excusing yourself from any
growth or change. Take the opportunity you’ve been given. Learn from it. Don’t
blame others for your own shortcomings.” She hit her fist against her leg in
frustration.

“How do I just get over that?” 

“You get over it by deciding to. You get
over it by forgiving your father for being a jerk. Rise above your
circumstances and choose to be better than that.” 

“Forgive my father, awesome, no problem.” I
laid the sarcasm on thick.

“If you don’t, David, you are going to end
up just like him.” Her words hit me like a slap in the face and my reply came
out like a hiss.

“What did you say?”

I looked at her with burning eyes and she
retreated a little. I closed my eyes feeling guilt replace the wave of
white-hot anger. Her voice cut through the silence, gently.

“When they ignore the slippery places,
David, people become what they hate. If you let what your father did consume
you without attending to it, it will hinder all your relationships. It will
certainly affect any children that you might have some day.” 

The truth of this statement rang in my
ears. I couldn’t escape it, so I did something I’d never done before in my
entire life: I started to cry.

I cried because I was frustrated and angry.
I was mad at my father and knew I was turning into him. I was so mad at Rachel
for preying on my insecurities. I was mad at Lucy for being so wonderful. But
more than anything, I was just freaked out. I knew I needed to change the
direction my life was headed in.

“How do I just let go?” I asked, trying to
wipe my face without moving my hair.

“I don’t have a fix-it kind of answer for
that, honey. I know, for me, it’s helpful to see The Good.” 

“The Good…” I let that phrase hang in the
air as a kind of challenge, but she didn’t back down.

“There is good in every situation, David.
Finding it and focusing on it goes a long way in letting go of resentment,
anger, and jealousy.” She was still patting my leg, patiently, so I figured I’d
give it a try. I thought about it, hard, for a few minutes. But, for the life
of me, I couldn’t find any good in my relationship with my father. I looked at
her hopelessly, shaking my head a little. She just kind of smiled.

“You have experienced things that a lot of
people haven’t. That makes you someone who understands things that others can’t
understand.” She paused for a second, looking off like she was trying to come
up with the perfect words. “When you were nine and you got taken away and were
with that other family, how did the social worker make you feel?”

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I
just remember being scared.”

“That’s probably because the social worker
didn’t understand what you were feeling and what was going on in your mind.
Don’t you think that if you had been the social worker you would have been much
more helpful to that little boy?” She smiled at me again, her words were so
kind. I carefully wiped the remaining tears in my eyes. I nodded at her.

“Well, that’s some good that can come out
of this. There are many children who suffer like you did.” She looked at me
thoughtfully. “You have a kind heart David. That is something that isn’t
learned, I don’t even know if it’s hereditary. But kind hearts are improved by
hardship for some reason, so you have one of the kindest, and you can do a lot
of good with that.”

“Thank you,” I said. 

 “Now, how are we going to deal with the
Lucy thing? Because I like her.” 

I laughed at that statement of fact,
although I had to shrug my shoulders in reply. I had no idea.

“Now stop that,” Grandma snapped when she
saw me descending into the pit of despair again.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” This was
actually the worst part. I could call, and talk, and apologize all week long.
But my mind kind of blacked out when I thought of Lucy’s voice telling me to
drop dead. Then there’d be no possibility of things getting better. Then it’d
really be done.

“Then you move on, David! But at least you
know that you tried and didn’t give up and play dead!” She was on fire, her
voice beginning to ring with disgust.  

“OKAY, okay, so what do I do?” I was laughing
at the puckered up little face that was so determined at me making things right
with Lucy. 

“Make it big, girls love that.” She
immediately switched to party planner mode.

“That’s not me.” My lip raised up on one
side, turning my mouth into a sneer. Grandma threw her hands in the air and
blew a raspberry at me, which I’m pretty sure is old-folk talk for
“I’ve-about-had-it.”

“Oh please, David. You jumped into a frozen
lake in front of a crowd of people for her and you’re saying you don’t do
big?” 

I groaned. I would never escape the lake.

“Just do you, but do it big so she can’t
miss it.” She had a dreamy look in her eyes. I’d never realized how much of a
hopeless romantic Grandma was before.

“Why do you like her so much?” I asked her
right as the question popped into my head, not bothering to filter my
curiosity.

“One because she makes you so happy,” she
answered quickly, like she’d been expecting the question, then thought for a
moment. “And two, because she is really different. She stayed all day and
through the night and helped me when you were sick. She did all the dishes, she
helped clean your room, and she talked with me for hours. It had been a long
time since I had someone who hung around all day like she did. I like that she
sees you for you, she sees what I see in you.” 

Grandma smiled again and started to get up
from the couch, headed for the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder as she went,
“So go. Do it. Do whatever you have to do to get her to forgive you.” 

She stopped abruptly and swung around to
look at me, serious once again. “And if it doesn’t work I want you to promise
me that there will be no more pity-parties, no more carrying on and feeling
sorry for yourself. All you can do is learn and grow from your mistakes.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still unconvinced.

I sat for a few minutes, debating. There
were a few ways I could go with this. I knew what the traditional “I’m sorry”
hubbub looked like. It also occurred to me that Lucy probably hated roses and
loved some random, foreign flower. Actually, she probably loved flowering
weeds. It took a few minutes to think of anything, but I was tired of sitting
on the couch and I knew Grandma would grill me about it later.

I got out my cell phone and decided to call
in reinforcements to help. First person I dialed was Johnny.

“David, is this really you?” His chipper
voice was a little higher than usual, in amazement.

“Yeah man. Listen, I want to apologize to
Lucy, will you help me?” I spoke quickly, trying not to lose my nerve.

“Heck yeah man; I like her!” He sounded
relieved. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“No clue,” I admitted.

“Ok, let me see if I can think of anything
and I’ll call you back. You want to do it today?” 

“Yeah. I just want to get it done.” I also
didn’t really want to chat about it anymore. Johnny’s alter ego was Chatty
Cathy.

“Awesome. See you in a bit?” He knew I was
going to have to drive to his area because Lucy lived in Kalispell. 

“Right.” I said, hanging up to call
Isaiah.  It rang. 

“Yeah?” His deep voice was slow.

“Isaiah, hey!” I hadn’t realized how happy
I would be to hear him. 

“Dude, you’re alive! What the heck man?”
Frustration tinged his voice, which was kind of touching. It was a rare
occasion when Isaiah showed any real emotions.

“I have no excuse, man. I’m sorry.” The
brief silence was followed by a grunt of acceptance.

“So, I need your help. I’m going to
attempt--” I heard my grandmother clear her throat from the kitchen.  “I’m
going to apologize to Lucy, and I need your help.”

“You want me to kidnap her?” he asked,
bored.

“Nah man. I’m not sure what I’m going to do
yet, but I—“ Isaiah cut me off.

“What about your fruity drawings? Draw her
a picture of you stepping on Rachel’s face or something.” 

I laughed. I had really, really missed
Isaiah.

“That’s not a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind seeing a picture
like that.” Isaiah chuckled.

“Okay now I have an idea. Johnny and I are
going to come and get you in a few hours, alright?” 

“Yep.”

I hung up the phone and walked to my closet,
pulling out the box that contained all of my art supplies. I pulled out my
acrylic paint, sat down on my bathroom floor, and started with a bright blue
color that looked just like Lucy Peterson’s eyes.

12. KEEP YOUR FEET UP!

We drove into Lucy’s neighborhood slowly. Johnny and
Isaiah looked like newborn kittens, living in a cabin near a lake, who just
noticed their owners always kept a bag and some bricks on hand. I parked my car
a block away from where the Peterson’s house was so that her parents wouldn’t
see my car. When we stepped out of my Rabbit a bitter cold hit us. All three of
us instantly shrugged deeper into our jackets and yanked our beanies to just
above our eyebrows, covering up as much of our heads as possible. 

“So who is carrying this freaking thing?” Isaiah
grunted while he untied a 28-foot ladder from the top of my extremely small,
nearly broken-down Volkswagen.

“I think we all have to, one in front, one
in the middle, and one in the back.” I saw again how stupid it was to put it up
there. If a policeman had seen us we would have been done. Not only would it
have ruined our night, but it would have destroyed my apology. Nothing says,
“I’m sorry, dear,” like a phone call from the county jail.

We put the colossal ladder down on the
ground and hurried back to the fading heat of the car for our flashlights. Last
thing we grabbed was an oversized box, wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper, for
Lucy. I had caught heat for buying it, and especially wrapping it, but it was
worth it. I knew Lucy would like it. Plus, I got a kick out of wrapping stuff.
The exact angles and folds of a well-wrapped gift just made my head happy.

“Do you have any idea how guilty we look,
toting this thing around a nice neighborhood in the dark?” Johnny said
nervously. He looked around, expecting someone to jump out at any moment. 

“Relax, we only look guilty if someone sees
us.” Isaiah’s laid back voice didn’t seem to relieve Johnny’s anxiety.