Someone I Wanted to Be (24 page)

“I can come over tonight,” he said. “I told my mom I was going to be an accompanist for Mary Rogers. She’s practicing for the state vocal comp. Should I come to your house?”

“Meet me at 7-Eleven at seven thirty.”

Cindy was curled up on the couch. She laughed and rubbed the wineglass against her mouth. “Where are you going, sweetheart? Why don’t you come watch this show with me?” she said, still staring at the TV.

“I have to go to the drugstore to get a binder for my history report. It’s required.”

“Stay in well-lit areas!” Her eyes glowed in the TV light. She laughed again.

“Mom, it’s still light out.”

It was a spring night, and the light was blue. The air was warm and soft. It was the kind of night that tore your heart out. Dogs barked and people laughed in their yards. Music trailed from car windows and faded away.

The 7-Eleven was deserted. I kept checking my phone. An old man in a blue truck pulled in. He went inside and bought a can of chew, then struggled back into his truck and drove away. I waited out front, but felt conspicuous and pathetic because it was Friday night and everyone was driving around with their friends. I went into the store and bought a blue Slurpee and ran into the bathroom when anyone pulled up out front. I almost swiped some breath mints but stopped myself. The windows turned black.

“You got to buy something else or leave,” said the guy behind the counter. He was a big, sad boy with purple acne scars, the brother of a girl I knew. He’d graduated three years before.

I pushed through the dirty glass doors, ducking my head so the guy at the counter wouldn’t see that I was on the verge of crying because I was the biggest idiot in the world and Carl Lancaster was a nerd and a jerk. I was stupid enough to believe that something good could happen to me.

Carl bumped across the parking lot on his ten-speed. He wore an orange bandanna around his head under his bike helmet. “Leah!”

He rode up to me and put his feet on the ground. He cracked all the knuckles on his left hand. “Sorry I’m so late. I got busted. My mother called fricking Mary Rogers’s mother and asked if I was accompanying her. She went berserk. I had to sneak out. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. You better get back home before your mom . . .”

“I had to let you know what was going on. My mom confiscated my phone. Are you all right?” He looked carefully at me. “I’ll walk you home.”

I walked beside Carl. He kept his head down and had a very serious expression on his face as he rolled his bike along. We walked on the same sidewalks I’d walked on thousands of times, but everything felt new. The night billowed in soft waves around us. Wind blew through my body, and all the little hairs on my arms were breathing. We didn’t say anything; we just walked alongside each other as if our being together was a kind of talking.

When we got to my building, I turned to face him. “Well, Carl . . .”

He leaned over and kissed my mouth with his warm, dry lips. I put my hand on his neck, and he shivered. His helmet bumped against my head.

After a minute, Carl pulled away and buried his face in my hair and seemed to be breathing me. I was so glad I didn’t smell like smoke anymore. He let out a huge sigh and kissed me again. He lifted the front wheel of his bike, turned around, and shot off into the darkness.

The next day was Saturday. Anita came over with Evelyn in the afternoon. We waited in my room for Carl. Anita lay across the end of the bed with her head touching the floor on one side and her feet in a box of clothes on the other. She watched Evelyn pull the books off my cardboard bookshelf. “Evelyn, put those books back.. You’re wrecking them. Leah, what’s going on with —”

Evelyn opened up
Green Eggs and Ham.
She turned a page and ripped it.

I said, “That’s a special book, Evelyn. Hand it over.” I held out my hand for the book and coughed. Ever since I quit smoking, I’d had a runny nose. Overnight, I’d developed a sore throat, and it hurt to talk. I hoped I hadn’t given anything to Carl.

Evelyn stood up and threw the book at me. Her shirt didn’t come down over her stomach.

Anita banged her head against the carpet. “Ugh, where’s Carl? His stupid mother.”

There was a rap on the door. Cindy, in her robe and a towel turban, opened the door and gave me a nauseating smile. “Leah, you have another guest.” She swung the door open and squashed Evelyn behind it.

Carl slunk in and raised his hand in greeting. “Hey.” Cindy stood in the doorway with glazed eyes, smiling.

“Bye, Mom.” I climbed over Anita and shut the door. Carl sat on the floor against the door.

Evelyn leaned on his leg. “Carl,” she said. She gazed up at him, put her little hand on his knee, and pretended to play piano. She had a few flakes of sparkly orange polish on her fingernails.

Anita pulled herself up and sat cross-legged on the bed. She rubbed her eyes and smeared her makeup. “Finally, Carl.”

He pulled up his knees; he was wearing combat boots that made his feet look enormous. “I stood my ground. I said I’m sixteen and it’s Saturday and I’m going to see my friends. I want my phone back. And I’m going out tonight, too. May I please use the van? I work my ass off and I deserve to have a little fun.”

“My God, Carl. You actually used the word ‘ass’? What did she say?”

“Her mouth got really tight and she said, ‘Fine.’ Then she went into the backyard and smoked a cigarette.”

“Really? Patty smokes?” Anita propped her chin on her fist.

“I owe you, Carl.” I coughed and quickly wiped my nose on my sleeve.

“No rush. I get paid to play a wedding next week. Are you sick?” He shyly stared at my ugly carpet. His hands hung over his knees, and his right hand tightly held his left wrist. Carl Lancaster was sitting in my pathetic bedroom, and I didn’t seem to care. I was fine with it.

“Looks like we can go out tonight.” Anita looked at Carl and then at me. “What should we do? Want to go down to Torrance Park for kicks?”

“What’s happening with your big Kristy Baker problem? Have you gotten it all straightened out?” Carl bunched up his eyebrows. He methodically cracked the knuckles of both hands.

Anita stacked her fists under her chin. “Yeah! What’s going on? Did you —?”

“I’m working on it.”

The phone in the living room rang. Cindy came to the door again. She smiled down at Carl and winked. She handed me the landline. “My goodness, Leah, you are certainly the social butterfly today.”

I took the phone from her. “Hey, Kristy.” Carl and Anita both stiffened.

Kristy said, “Why was your phone off? We’re going to the park tonight, remember? We’ll pick you up at six. Dave and Rob told me they saw you yesterday with Anita Sotelo and Carl Lancaster. What the hell were you doing with them?”

I kept my gaze on the wall and thought it was probably how the earth looked from the window of a plane. The crack was a river.

“I’ll call you back.” I pushed the button and ended the call.

A minute before, I’d been sitting in my room with Anita and Carl, but now when I looked at them, just for a flash, I saw Anita Sotelo and Carl Lancaster. Carl’s face was so thin and serious and freckled, his lips were chapped, and he had a little acne on his high cheekbones, and those long white freckly fingers. And Anita’s face was kind of gray from getting up at four thirty, and also because she was probably anemic from being vegan and not getting enough iron. Her thick eyeliner was smeared, and she wore cheap, flimsy scarves and leggings and knockoff Keds.

Carl picked at the bottom of his combat boot. Anita stared cockeyed at the wall and chewed her thumbnail.

“Hey,” I said. “You guys.” They looked up at me, and I saw my friends again.

“I’ve got to go down to the park with Yertle and Corinne. We already planned it, and I can’t get out of it. Just for a little while. Then I’ll meet up with you guys.”

And then I had to meet someone at eleven. Just for a minute.

Carl blew air through his teeth. “I can only use the van if I’m home by ten thirty. I can’t be tired for the goddamn recital.”

Anita had her head tipped back and watched Carl’s face. Carl was looking at me. His gaze stopped at my mouth, then traveled up to my eyes. I looked at the carpet, my heart whumping.

“But theoretically, I’m OK with it,” he said. “Who is Yertle?”

Anita pulled her legs up to her chest and pressed her chin against her kneecap. Her eyes looked darker, the lines of her face sharper than usual. “Fine. I might have to bring Evelyn.”

“Excuse me, girls. I need to use the restroom.” Carl got up and went out the door; we could hear him talking to Cindy.

Cindy said, “I understand you are a musician, Carl!”

Anita rolled over and looked at the ceiling. She tilted her head as her gaze followed the outline of a stain. “You guys are a couple?” She sat up, crossed her legs, and straightened her spine in a yogi pose. She took some deep breaths and blew them out. “Cool.”

Evelyn was sitting on my paperbacks. She paged through
Hop on Pop
and sang a song that we used to sing at the YWCA camp I went to on scholarship when I was eight:

“I’ll sing you one, Ho.

Green grow the rushes, Ho.

One is one and all alone

And evermore shall be so.

I’ll sing you two, Ho.

Green grow the rushes, Ho . . .”

Carl opened my door and stood in the doorway. Cindy was still talking behind him. He stared at my window. “Holy crap, no fire egress.”

One is one and all alone and evermore shall be so.
An atom. I always thought that was me.

At five o’clock, Corinne called. “We’ll pick you up at six.”

“You’re going?”

I heard her blow out smoke. “Yeah. I’m sick of Kristy and her shit, but I don’t have anything better to do. Hey, what the hell, I heard you’ve been hanging around Anita Sotelo and Carl Lancaster again.”

I opened the door to my room just as Cindy rushed from her room into the bathroom. The brother of a dental hygienist had invited her to the Hilton Days barbecue, then to a line dance at the Stoplight Lounge. It was the weekend of Hilton Days, the town’s yearly festival. There were pancake breakfasts, bingo games, and country bands playing all over town. There’d been a parade down Torrance Avenue at two o’clock that afternoon. Kelsey Parker’s big sister was going to be crowned Hilton Days Queen at a rodeo on Sunday.

I stood in the bathroom doorway. Cindy leaned close to the mirror and blended her eye shadow with her pinkie. She pulled back, bunched up her lips, then leaned in again and checked her teeth. She took a brush from her makeup bag and dusted bronzer on her cheeks, shoulders, and boobs. She pulled open her shirt and blew into it.

“Hey, Mom.”

She spun around and posed against the sink. She was wearing tight white capris that were now dusted with bronzer, a neon-blue tank top, and new red sandals that laced up her ankle. She lifted her foot. “They hurt like hell, but I love ’em! Leah, how do I look? I stopped at the tanning salon. Do I look burnt? I finally colored my hair last night. Is it too much red? What do you think? Am I presentable?”

Her pupils were huge. Her breath smelled like Chardonnay. The corner of her mouth quivered a little.

“You look pretty.”

Her face relaxed. “Really? You’re not just flattering me? Because you feel sorry for me? Because I’ll be forty in a couple of years.”

“You’re younger than all my friends’ mothers. You look beautiful.”

“Beautiful? Oh, Leah, you can’t be serious.”

“God. Yes! Now leave me alone.”

“Oh, sweetie. Sorry, I’m a little nervous. A very handsome gentleman is taking me out tonight.” She took my face between her hands, being careful of her nails; I could smell the polish. She pulled my head down for a tiny kiss on my forehead. “What are your plans, honey?”

She blinked like a little girl and gave me her cute, wobbly smile. She was pretending to forget that I was grounded. I’d rather she’d just say outright that it was too much hassle to be a mother. It took a lot of energy to enforce rules and curfews and groundings. It was boring and tedious to plan and cook nutritious family dinners, especially when that family didn’t include a guy and consisted of a fat girl and a tired woman who just wanted to drink wine and space out in front of the TV. She got furious when I got in trouble because then she’d have to do something. “It’s as much a punishment for me as it is for you!”