My Stupid Girl (23 page)

Lucy put her hand on my upper arm and
started moving her thumb back and forth across the skin, like she was trying to
imagine a tattoo there. Waves of electricity moved through my body as she
touched me. The electricity thing happened often, whenever she touched my arm
or my back or my leg, my body would start to have a fit. Generally I tried to
deal with it by pretending it wasn’t happening and trying not to notice where
her hand was.

“Really? You want a tattoo?” She asked
again.  

“I do; I’ve always wanted one. I’ve thought
a few times of drawing one for myself.” I shrugged, still noticing that her
hand was on my arm. I was starting to sweat from the effort of not noticing. 

“That would be really cool!” She smiled
then looked me in the eyes. “Draw me a

tattoo!“ She said eagerly.

“You want a tattoo?” Now I was shocked; I
never even imagined Lucy with a tattoo, but her skin was so beautiful that a
tattoo would look pretty cool. Knowing her, it would be somewhere she could
hide it and I would never get to see it. 

“I love looking at them, but I’m not a big
pain person,” she admitted.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it hurts, Luce.” To
my bitter relief she let go of my arm and looked at me thoughtfully. 

“Draw me something and I’ll get it.” 

“No,” I said.

“What? Why?” She looked like her feelings
were actually hurt.

“How can you get a tattoo that someone else
wants for you?” I asked, catching a loose hair and tucking it behind her ear.
My fingers lingered around the back of her neck.

“Well it’s not just someone, it’s you, and
I want you to draw something that makes you think of me.” She was serious. 

“I’ll draw something, but you don’t have to
get a tattoo.”

“You draw, then mind your own business on
what I do with it.” She laughed and she looked down at her watch.

“You have to go don’t you?” I glowered at
the clock on the wall then brought her in close to me, putting my arms around
her completely.

“Soon.” She got quiet in my arms. I sighed
and started to let her go but she wouldn’t let me, which was a nice change.
“You know, David, I’ve been waiting for a month for you to ask me to the Prom.”
She spoke into my chest.

“The Prom.” I said it like I was a
foreigner who had never heard the word before. “Luce, I don’t go to that school
anymore, I didn’t realize--” but she cut me off. 

“Don’t you try and give me those excuses,
David Anthony!” Her brows were scrunched down in irritation, looking into my
face, holding my chin in her hands. I was not going to be allowed to make any
kind of excuse. She continued in a no-nonsense voice.

“We are seniors and, from the beginning of
time, the senior prom has been held around this time. You had to have thought
about it.” She looked stern.

“Ok. Yeah. I honestly didn’t know if you
wanted to go with me.” 

“What!?” Lucy looked at me with raging
eyes. “You didn’t think I wanted to go to my senior prom with my boyfriend?” I
shrugged my shoulders. She really meant it.

“You know, the last time we went out it
didn’t, you know, end well.” I looked down at my hands and felt guilt rush over
me. 

“Really? So let me get this straight: You
think that because you screwed up I don’t want to go to my prom anymore?” She
waited for an answer and when she didn’t get one she kept on, “That’s the
weirdest, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She crawled out of my arms and off the bed;
leaving me to crumple like a shirt that was just taken off. I shrugged again,
that is what I did when I didn’t know what to say. It was a vicious cycle
because whenever I shrugged she would squeal in frustration, leaving me even
more speechless.

“Don’t shrug at me, tell me what you’re
thinking!” She was standing with her arms crossed tightly around her chest. 

How did that happen?  One second we’re
sitting there cuddling, then she was mad at me and demanding to have one of
those conversations where I tell her something that I don’t want to. I learned
quickly, though, after the first time I refused to tell her what I was thinking
that she would come to her own conclusions. And they would be awful.

It was the first month we were officially
dating. I had gotten quiet because Mike had called her when I was around to ask
her something about church. I was so upset that he was calling her that I
magically turned into a three year old who hated everyone who touched me and
looked at me; I all but threw my body down on the ground to throw a fit. But I
wouldn’t tell Lucy why I was upset, because I thought she’d think I was being
silly for being jealous of Mike calling her. In my moment of private self-pity
she had thought I was thinking about Rachel (for whatever reason), and so had
commenced our first fight. Since then, I’d gotten better about communicating
with her, but it was always an uphill climb. I didn’t like “talking things
out,” so every time I did it, although it made things more peaceful for her it
made me even more stressed out.

Lucy was trying very hard to do what her
mother had told her, making a decision to forgive me, even though her mind
often jumped to the “he’s cheating” conclusion. But she was failing horribly at
it in this moment. I tried to calm myself down and explain. I knew that, even
though I hated it with the fire of a thousand suns, talking it out would
ultimately be the best decision.

“I was thinking that I would look stupid in
a suit. I don’t want to embarrass you. I don’t like big groups!” I crossed my
arms back at her, sticking my tongue out for effect. It didn’t work. 

“So I’m going to miss my prom, the thing I
have been looking forward to for years, because you don’t like big groups?” The
look of anger now had a tinge of puppy-dog sadness, which made me feel
terrible. I blew my breath out in frustration and scooted off my bed to walk
over to her, standing in the corner of my room. Big crocodile tears began to
pool in her beautiful blue eyes. I grabbed under her elbows and brought her to
me.

“It’s really not fair when you cry like
that,” I whispered into her ear and kissed her neck.

“I’m not trying to.” Her voice jerked out
between squeaky sobs. 

“Yeah, right.” I moved her hair out of her
face; she looked at me and glared. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t force you to do
something you don’t want to do.” The words were right but her tone of voice was
robotic and she still looked miserable. I laughed.

“That was the worst apology ever, Luce. You
think you’ll try manipulation now that crying didn’t work?” I shook her a
little and chuckled again.

“Oh, you are an idiot!” She stamped her
foot in anger and tried to wiggle out of my arms but I had her tight.

“Lucy Peterson, I love you.” I kissed her
lips gently, but they were locked tight in two thin lines. “I do actually look
fantastic in a tuxedo, and if you were there with me no one would even notice I
was there." Her eyes brightened a little and it made my heart leap, even
made me a little excited to be going with her. Kinda.

“Are you being serious right now?” She
started to laugh and wipe her tears away.

“Oh come on, did you seriously think I was
just going to turn you down? You knew before you even came over that I was
going to agree to take you!” I started laughing at her. She smiled and stuck
her bottom lip out again.

“I wanted to be asked though.” 

“I know; I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and
put my head back to the ceiling. “I’m not used to having a girlfriend.
Especially one who is so amazing. I want to do right by you, but I am still
getting the gist of all the traditions and rules.”  She was silent, her eyes
studying me thoughtfully.

I held her in my arms wanting so badly to
just kiss her, already. It was becoming an obsession, painful, an unreasonable
urge I had to fulfill or I might go crazy. And she just kept on looking at me.

“We should go with Johnny and Jennika.” She
finally spoke, quietly. My chest flooded with relief as she continued speaking,
“we could share a limo or something.” 

She melted into me, hugging me because she
had gotten her way.

“Johnny, Jennika. Wait, a limo?” What three
things had nothing in common that my girlfriend had just put into a sentence?

“Hasn’t he told you? Johnny asked Jennika
to the Prom like a week ago.” 

“No, he hasn’t told me. I talked to him
last night, too.” I couldn’t wait to get that jerk on the phone. Jennika and
Johnny, a beautiful African-American girl and a goofy red-headed punk with
obnoxious freckles. Cute. I couldn’t even really be irritated with the guy.
Jennika was beautiful and pretty cool.

“I have to get a limo?” I made my face look
as uncomfortable as possible. 

“Nah, I think your little Rabbit will be
fine! I mean, breaking down on the way to the prom is what I’ve always dreamed
of!”

“Oh suddenly this is all about you? What
about how I’ve always imagined my prom?” I pulled off the most ridiculous fake
sniffle ever.

“You, what have you always imagined?” She
asked suspiciously.

“Skipping the dance and going straight to a
hotel room.”

She gasped, broke free from my arms, and
punched me. Hard. 

“I’m kidding!” I dodged another punch,
caught her up in my arms, and spun her around so her back was against me. “I’m
kidding.” I said again, quietly in her ear. 

“Come to church with me in the morning?”
She asked, ignoring me. I dropped her like she was a disgusting bug that had
just climbed up my arms. What an apt change of conversation. Hotel room,
church. Bug.

“No. No way, Lucy. It’s not going to
happen.” It was not going to happen. No way, no how.

“Come on, you liked my church.” She didn’t
look upset, but I could tell this was not the answer she wanted.

“I said I liked the kids.” I spoke quietly,
erasing all hint of humor from my voice. I didn’t want to fight, but I was
going to stick to my guns on this one.

“David--” She began, but I cut her off. 

“No, I am not going. I’ll see you next week
Lucy.” I turned around and started putting away clothes that I had been
neglecting all weekend because Lucy was around. I hated arguing with her, but
she made things so difficult.

“Wow, excuse me. You’re just kicking me
out?” I turned around and saw she was actually angry this time. Again.

I sighed. I fought the urge to be angry. I
spoke in a measured voice. 

“Lucy, the last time I went to church with
you it was a disaster.” 

“No, bowling was a disaster, church was
great.” She wasn’t giving up. This stupid girl was too stubborn to know when to
quit.

“I don’t want to see Rachel.” I could feel
myself giving in.

“Me either,” she said, her arms loosening
from their stern stance. She walked over to me but I backed up. We both stood
still for a moment as I tried to formulate how to say the next part.

“Lucy. What if I never become a Christian?
Are you going to be okay with that?” 

It was a question I’d had on my mind for a
long time but was too afraid to ask for fear of the answer. 

She didn’t respond, just walked over to me
and hugged me. I didn’t hug her back.

I waited for her answer; it wasn’t coming.
She just kept hugging. This was her way of saying she didn’t want to talk about
it, but I was so ready to dish out a taste of her own medicine.

“Did you hear me, Lucy?” I asked her.

“Yes. Okay. I don’t know.” She looked at me
helplessly. I exhaled angrily and patted her back. Apparently it was something
she’d been thinking about, too.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I will not speak to
Rachel, nor will I talk to Mike, and I won’t sit in the front row. And if you
try to get me to do any of those things you’re going to be embarrassed because
I’m not going to play.” I was determined that something was going to go my
way.     

“Deal!” said Lucy, grinning. Game, set,
match.

14. THE RED SUIT

Well, I wasn’t in the front row, so at least that
plea had been acknowledged. 

Lucy was actually being amazing. From the
moment we got out of the car, she had her hand in mine. She smiled and waved to
everyone we saw but didn't hug a single guy. A few reached out for her, but she
would smile and lean the side of her body into mine and they would kind of back
off. If she thought I didn’t know them, she’d make a point to introduce me.

Once inside, Lucy steered me to the second
to last row in the middle section. She walked all the way to the far wall,
seating us at the end of the row. I wasn’t sure if she was laying it on a
little thick, trying to appease me by making me feel like I had easy access to
the door, but I appreciated it.

Mike sat in the row in front of us but
Rachel wasn’t next to him. I actually didn’t know where she was, which was kind
of weird considering how she liked to announce her presence any time she
arrived anywhere. I was just glad she wasn’t nearby. 

Mike turned around when he heard our voices
and put his hand out for me to shake. 

“David. How are you?” He asked in a
friendly voice.

“Good, you?” I took his hand and shook it
firmly. This is how people did this, right?  Shook hands, asked how the other
was doing whether they cared or not? If it was, I was doing fabulously. Mike
looked over at Lucy, nodded and smiled, and faced forward again. Lucy had her
arm through my arm, content and happy that I was there. I have to admit, as
much as I didn’t want to be there, I was glad I could make Lucy so pleased with
my mere presence. 

The sanctuary (I had to get Lucy to remind
me what it was called) was bigger on the inside than it looked from the
outside. It had three wide aisles and three sections of chairs stretching from
front to back. Each section had about twenty rows. A few minutes before the
service started, the rows were almost completely filled with friendly faces,
all of them greeting and hugging each other. The carpet was black with grey
speckles, like the foyer. Three of the walls were painted a comforting green;
the fourth wall was brown. The stage up front was the entire width of the room
and extended out about 15 feet. There were a lot of instruments and microphones
up there. I felt like I was waiting for the band to start at a rock concert .