One Lonely Degree (17 page)

“Hey, Courtney,” we sing back.

“Finn.” Courtney’s baby blues shoot over to me. “Some totally hot guy was looking for you here last night. What’s the situation?”

“Huh?” Goosebumps pop up under my rugby shirt. She couldn’t be talking about Adam. He wouldn’t do that.

“Light brown hair,” she continues. “Not real tall.” Courtney’s hand slices through the air at roughly five foot nine. “Tiny scar on his cheek. Kinda grungy but totally hot. He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

“No.” That’s a definite description of Jersy. He must’ve been next door at Sport Mart and decided to stop in. “That’s not my boyfriend.”

“Hmm. Didn’t think so.” Courtney lowers her voice. “Shit. Don’t look now, but here comes Kevin. Catch ya later,
chicas.”
She swivels on her heels and rushes back towards the safety of the customer service booth.

The insult sinks in as I watch her go. She didn’t think it was possible for me to have a boyfriend who looked like Jersy; I’m geek-boyfriend material. Nishani makes a clucking noise and whispers, “Who is this totally hot not-your-boyfriend person?”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Kevin booms from mere inches away. His six-foot frame means we’re almost on eye level, unfortunately.

“It’s scientifically impossible for you to have heard that,” Nishani protests.

Kevin ignores her completely. “I thought you were available.” His eyes are drinking me in like a six-pack at a frat party.

“I’m not available.” I take a step back, catch sight of the
basketball boys, and will them to lob the ball at the back of Kevin’s head.

“C’mon,” Kevin says smugly. “You are. You both are. It’s written all over you in invisible ink.”

Nishani and I turn towards each other and then back to Kevin to scowl at him. Invisible ink? Does that make
any
sense?

“Excuse me, folks.” An old man in a plaid shirt interrupts, giving Nishani and me the perfect excuse to end the conversation.

I smile at the old guy as I take another step away from Kevin. Nishani follows my lead, leaving Kevin stranded alone in the middle of the aisle. “Can we help you?” I ask.

The man scrutinizes the piece of lilac notepaper in his hand. “Where, within this monstrosity of a store, would I find such a thing as the Fisher-Price Little People Airplane?”

Play Country policy dictates that you always accompany customers directly to the product they’re searching for. Reciting aisle numbers is a big no-no, along with leaving your ladder unattended. “I’ll show him,” I tell Nishani. Kevin, in no hurry to help anyone, has already disappeared.

I escort the old man down the toddler aisle and grab one of the blue and white airplanes from the bottom shelf. “How much is it?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

It’s obvious he’s going to buy it—somebody’s gone to the trouble of writing it down on pretty purple paper for him—but I politely quote the price.

“Thank you.” He takes the box from me.

When I meet Nishani back at the candy bin, she still wants to know about the not-my-boyfriend person. I tell her he’s Audrey’s boyfriend, Jersy Mikulski, and she knows who I’m talking about but she doesn’t think he’s good-looking. In fact, she only likes
South Asian guys. “My sister’s the complete opposite,” she says. “She likes everyone but desi guys.”

Her sister is seventeen and going into twelfth grade at St. Mark’s. Last I heard, she was seeing this Scottish guy, Maxwell, who put on a perfect American accent to play Biff in the school production of
Death of a Salesman
.

“That’s ancient history,” Nishani tells me. “Aneeka has a short attention span. She always loses interest before they do. We’re going over to the mall tonight after work. She wants to get a full Brazilian for summer.” Nishani and I wince in anticipation of the pain. I tried to wax my legs once last summer and only made it halfway up one knee. “Why don’t you come with us?”

Not like I have anything better to do. The more time I spend away from home, the less likely I’ll be there when it plunges to the bottom of the ocean.

After our shift Nishani and I wander in and out of clothing stores as Aneeka has her pubic hair methodically torn out by the roots. Then Aneeka drags us cheerfully into swimsuit stores looking for the tiniest bathing suit she can find and decides on a minuscule fire-engine-red thong bikini. Nishani declares Aneeka too afraid of their parents to ever wear it out of the house, but the sparkle in Aneeka’s eyes tells me otherwise.

“It could be good for indoor recreation too,” Aneeka says.

Nishani flicks her gaze up to the heavens. “You’re such a skank.” If it’s possible to say that with love, I’ve just heard it.

Aneeka reaches around me and pinches Nishani’s arm.

“Ouch.” Nishani yanks her arm away and whirls towards me. “You see? She’s crazy.” She massages the sore spot, her jaw and shoulders tight. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

“It will not,” Aneeka intones. “You’re such a baby.” She gently
strokes her sister’s hair. “Did they put you on cash yet at that ridiculous place?”

I answer for her. “No, she’s keeping me from going insane stocking.”

Nishani and I describe the crazy day we’ve had, including the interruptions from Courtney and Kevin. Aneeka’s immediately offended on my behalf. “Who does she think she is, implying you’re not good enough to be this guy’s girlfriend?”

“Courtney’s too blond to realize when she’s being insulting,” Nishani adds.

“It’s true.” I smile so hard that my teeth hurt. Maybe the Play Country gig won’t be so bad after all. Maybe I’m even making new friends.

That happy thought gets me as far as the Kavanagh kitchen, where Daniel’s holding a dripping ice cream sandwich in one hand and the telephone in the other. “Do you want to talk to Dad?” he asks, shoving the phone in my face.

“Later,” I tell him, pushing it away.

I dive into the bath minutes later, making that impossible. If I spoke to Dad, I’d only say the wrong thing. He’d try to defend himself, but he’d fail. Mom is here and he isn’t. Mom was trying and he wasn’t. I heard enough from the hall the night he left.

My throat swells thinking about it, but I won’t give in. I’ve bawled enough for one summer.

A
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every day from her cousin’s computer. She’s been spending a lot of time on the paddleboats at the park down the road and has become a pro at mini-golf. Her twelve-year-old cousin, Justine, is completely enamored with Audrey’s Shakespearean-style love affair, and as well as allowing access to her computer any time of day or night, eagerly soaks up whatever Jersy details Audrey will share. Audrey says she wishes she were at Play Country with me, despite how bad I make it sound, and that she’s so tan from paddleboating that she could be Daniel’s Mexican sister.

She understands exactly how I feel about my dad and tells me it’s only natural that I’m not in a hurry to talk to him. “Don’t worry about him,” she says. “Just take care of yourself.”

I e-mail her daily too, sometimes twice. I’m forever stumbling across Internet stuff she’d be interested in, like today’s Sagittarius (her sign) horoscope: “Recently forces have been mobilizing against
you, leaving you feeling defeated. Be patient and let the drama play itself out, and you’ll be surprised how the battle ends.”

The last thing I should be doing on a summer day is surfing the Internet for astrological predictions I don’t believe in, but my days off are long and boring, and Saturdays are the worst. Mom alternates between pacing restlessly around the house, her hair in a limp ponytail, and napping on the living room couch. The ever popular Anti-Me’s over at the waterpark with friends, his favorite summer activity. In the past Mom would’ve nagged me to get off the computer and do something, but now she can’t even muster the energy to pick up the ringing telephone.

I eye it warily as it rings for the fourth time. It could be Dad again or the woman who keeps calling to say Mom’s won a free gym membership at the Women’s Health Club two blocks away. I could pick up and explain that Mom’s eleven-hour sleep schedule doesn’t leave much time for a gym membership, but I let the answering machine do the job for me.

Afterwards I play the message back. Anna Mikulski wants to set a dinner date with Mom. I wonder if Jersy told her about my dad leaving. It’s not a secret. Maybe a night out with Anna would do her good. I leave her a note on the kitchen table and take Samsam for a walk down to the lake. He doesn’t chase geese like he does squirrels; he stares distastefully at them as they honk. It’s the weirdest expression, and I giggle to myself as I pull him towards the water. His retriever half is genetically programmed to obsess over sticks, and I toss them repeatedly into the lake and let him play out his genetic destiny.

Behind me a group of younger guys are playing hacky sack. A teenage couple at the nearest picnic bench are kissing heatedly, the girl straddling the guy’s lap. My head wants to turn and watch
them like a pervert. They remind me of Audrey and Jersy on my bed, and embarrassment wells up inside me, dragging me away.

Before September, I used to think about sex a lot. Sometimes I still do, but it’s different when you have to police your mind so that the thoughts don’t mutate into bad memories. And now I get nervous when guys make dirty jokes or wolf-whistle from cars. Conversations with Kevin from work have the potential to make me queasy. Of course Kevin makes all the girls he works with queasy, but there’s absolutely no way I should be visualizing my best friend with her boyfriend.

“C’mon, Samsam,” I tell him, fighting a blush. “Let’s go home and drag Mom off the couch.”

When we get there, my mother’s clearing stale food out of the fridge and sanitizing surfaces. She hasn’t plucked her eyebrows since Dad left, and tiny hairs are growing in under the previously perfect arch. “Wet dog smell,” Mom notes. “You let him go in the lake?”

“It’s hot. You know how sluggish he gets in the heat.”

Mom purses her lips, a bead of sweat gathering between her eyes. “Now that you’re home, maybe you can help me clean up a bit. The living room needs vacuuming.”

Mom takes a shower as I vacuum. When she comes back downstairs to check my progress, the tiny hairs under her eyebrows are gone and she’s wearing salmon-colored nail polish with matching lipstick. “Your dad’s on his way over for a visit,” she says. “He’s picking up Daniel along the way.”

“What?” I scrunch up my eyebrows. “How come you didn’t say that before?” The makeover’s more than coincidence. She’s still trying. Unlike me. I have no intention of hanging around to make nice.

“I thought you might try to take off somewhere,” she admits. “He really wants to see you.” So now she’s an accomplice to the guy who made her miserable? Dressing up for him and making the house gleam? Does she have an ounce of self-respect?

“If he wants to see me so much, he shouldn’t have taken off to Orillia,” I retort.

“You know that had nothing to do with you or Daniel,” Mom says in a high-pitched voice.

Of course I do. “I’m going out later anyway,” I lie. “Over to Jersy’s. He dropped by the store looking for me yesterday.” That last part’s the truth, at least.

“You never mentioned that.” Mom glances at her watch. “Talk to him for a few minutes at least, Finn. He should be here soon.”

Dad walks through the door with Daniel over thirty minutes later. Anti-Me rushes towards the fridge, but Dad hangs back, waiting for Mom to invite him in. “Can I get you something to drink, Alan?” Mom asks. She looks nervous around him when she should be giving him attitude.

“That’d be nice.” Dad smiles at me as he follows her into the sparkling kitchen. “How you doing, Finn? I’ve had a hell of a time trying to get you on the phone. Every time I call your cell, it goes straight to message.”

“I’ve been busy with work,” I grumble. “We have to leave our phones in our lockers.” Daniel sticks a purple freezie in his mouth and sucks at it like a vampire. He’s the only one who doesn’t look tense, and he flashes Dad a purple grin before careening out of the room.

“I know you’re busy.” Dad nods sympathetically, trying to make up for his impatience that night coming back from Audrey’s.

“Uh-huh.” My tone’s edgy. In my mind I’m leaping away from the table and sprinting over to Jersy’s. There’s no way he’ll be
home on a Saturday night. I should’ve phoned Jasper and Maggie and begged them to go to the movies with me. They’d be surprised to hear from me outside of the school year, but they might say yes. Aidan Lamb’s starring in a new action flick. Maggie wouldn’t be able to resist that.

“Well, I’d like to put together a schedule of when the three of us can see each other,” Dad continues doggedly. “You, me, and Daniel. We can juggle it around your work schedule. With school out and Audrey away, you must have some time.”

Mom sets an iced tea down in front of Dad and edges discreetly out of the kitchen. “The thing is, I don’t have time to go over it right now,” I say. “Me and Jersy are hanging out tonight. I’m already late.”

Dad clasps his hands together on the table. “You’re avoiding me.” He rubs his forehead and sips his iced tea. “It’s not easy for me being away from you and Daniel, Finn. It’s not the way I wanted things, but your mother and I—we’re not good for each other right now, and that wouldn’t be good for you and Daniel.”