Ten Things We Did (And Probably Shouldn't Have) (9 page)

“You mean, would I have had sex if I thought she wouldn’t regret it the next day?”

“Exactly. If she was also over you but thought one last night together would be fun.”

He considered. “Then I probably would not have asked her to leave, no.”

“So it’s not a matter of being in love?” I asked, disappointed.

“Not yet,” he said, looking at me. “But I hope that next time it will be.”

“It’s always about love for me,” Dean said.

“You must fall in love a lot,” I said, laughing.

“I do,” he said. “I really do. I could fall in love with both of you tonight if you’d like me to.”

“Pass,” Vi and I said simultaneously.

“Probably for the best.” Dean waved his taco in the air. “You ladies used enough onions in here to kill a vampire.”

I laughed and took a long sip of my water. “Vampires are allergic to garlic, not onions,” I explained. “Don’t you watch
Vampire Nights
?”

“No,” Hudson said. “Should we?”

“Helloo!”
I squealed. “We may have to watch it right now. I have the DVD of season one. And two. And three.”

“Marathon! Marathon! Marathon!” Dean cheered, thumping his fists on the table.

Hudson nodded. “Let’s do it.”

We each made ourselves another taco, migrated over to the couch, and settled in with our plates on our laps. Donut jumped onto the couch and sat between me and Hudson.

“You,” Vi said, pointing to Dean. “Do not touch anything. I don’t want salsa stains on every couch cushion.”

We all chomped happily while the first episode played. Donut nibbled on my leftover cheese.

“I’m making myself another taco,” Vi said before we started the second episode. “Anyone?”

“I’ll take one,” Hudson said. “Do you want help?” Donut had cuddled into a ball on his lap.

“You look kind of trapped,” Vi told him. “I got it. Three tacos coming up. Dean, I’m assuming you want one too.”

Halfway through episode two, my cell rang. Noah. “Hey,” I whispered. “What’s up?”

“Why are you whispering? Did you move back to your dad’s?”

“Yeah, right. Hold on.” I hoisted myself up and wandered toward Vi’s bathroom, away from the TV. “Hi,” I said, louder.

“Are you in bed?” he asked. The clock read 12:06. I hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.

“No, we’re watching
Vampire Nights
.”

“You and Vi?”

“Yeah,” I said. Guilt flicked through me like a static shot. “And Dean and his brother.”

“Hudson.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,”
he snipped. “So you’re not going to bed?”

“Um . . . not this second. Maybe in fifteen?” I didn’t want to call it a night yet. I was having fun. But I couldn’t exactly tell my boyfriend I preferred to stay up watching TV with two other guys.

As I hung up, Vi walked passed me, looking a bit pale.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Not feeling great,” she said. “I overdid it on the tacos. Boys!” she called. “It’s time for you to go home.”

Noah would be happy.

“We only got through two episodes,” Dean complained. “You two are the worst marathoners ever.”

“Next time,” I promised. I looked up to see Hudson watching me.

“Next time,” Hudson repeated.

Vi attacked the mess in the kitchen. “I’ll load, you clean off the table,” she instructed.

Guess I wasn’t calling Noah back just yet.

GOOD-NIGHT KISSES

Twenty minutes later I was in bed, my cell pressed against my ear. Noah’s phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Donut curled into my stomach.

“Hello?” he finally answered, voice hoarse.

“Hi,” I said. “Still up?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, clearly not.

“Go back to bed,” I said.

“’Kay. Love you,” he mumbled.

The words warmed my whole body, even though I’d heard them a hundred times. I just hadn’t heard them recently. Not from him first. “You too,” I said. “Good night.”

I hung up the phone and pulled Donut on top of me. “Don’t worry, Donut, I love you too.”

“Meow,”
she responded, clearly reciprocating the emotion.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

What the hell? I stared up at the ceiling.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I climbed out of bed and up the stairs, carrying Donut with me. A man’s voice was booming on the other side of the door. The voice sounded familiar.

“Vi?” I asked, peeking into the living room.

Vi was on her yoga mat, in her workout gear, doing stomach crunches. Her workout DVD was glowing from the TV.

“Hey,” she said. “Is it too loud? I was trying not to wake you.”

“It’s okay, I was just wondering what was going on.”

“I wanted to do a quick workout.”

Okay . . . weird.
“In the middle of the night?”

Donut meowed, clearly agreeing with me.

“I’m almost done,” she said, looking ahead.

“Good night,” I said. I closed the door behind me and went back to bed.

MEOW

“You’re getting so big!” I told my brother a few days later when we were Skyping. He seemed older somehow. . . . His shoulders seemed wider. I felt pangs of pride and sadness. He was growing up without me. “You’re not shaving yet, are you?”

He stuck out his tongue. “Let me get Mom. She wants to Skype with you.”

“But I called to talk to you,” I told my brother.

“Talk to her for two secs, and then I’ll be back.”

“’Kay. Really come back, though.”

“Hi,” my mom chirped. “You look great! I can’t believe you got a new cat!”

“You look good too,” I said. “Very . . . blond. Why can’t you believe I got a cat?”

“Cats are a lot of work!”

“They’re not that much work,” I said. Donut was sitting on my stomach at that very moment. “And I’m very responsible. Say hi, Donut.”

“Meow.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

“You’re one to talk,” I said. “You gave Libby away.”

“I couldn’t take her with me!” She shook her head. Then shook her head again.

“You could have,” I said. “You just chose not to.”

“April—”

“What? It’s true.” I scratched Donut under the chin. “Where’s Matthew? I really wanted to talk to him.”

“Oh. Okay. Have you thought about when you want to visit this summer?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“When you have a chance . . .”

“Will do.” Donut yawned, stretched her paws, then put her head back down on my stomach. I would never leave my cat behind. I would never leave anyone behind.

MY MOM WENT TO CANCUN AND ALL I GOT WAS A FRENCH STEPFATHER

It was not a family trip to Cancun. It was a Divorcées Gone Wild trip to Cancun. My mother went with her older sister, Linda (also recently divorced), and Linda’s friend Pamela. They went for a week. My mom wore the thigh highs. She had a wild fling with the Frenchman Daniel. Then she returned to Westport and he returned to Paris and we thought that was it, au revoir
.

“You’re never going to see him again?” I’d asked. I was in the front seat and fourth-grade Matthew was behind me, kicking my seat. It was February of my freshman year.

“Nope,” she said. It had been three weeks since she’d been back, and her tan—as well as her fling—seemed to be long gone. “What would be the point? It’s not like I’m going to pick up and move to Paris.”

“Why not?” I’d said. “France would be so awesome.” I had romantic notions of espressos at street-corner cafés and cinched, lavender trench coats.

“You want to move to Paris?” she’d asked, turning into the elementary school’s circular driveway.

“Not right this second,” I’d said. “I can’t just leave my life. I can’t just leave my friends.” And Noah. We’d been together for three months. “I’ll finish high school in America and then come for college. It’ll be
très
glamorous.”

It did sound glamorous. But I only encouraged it because I didn’t think it could happen. That a mom—my mom—could just pick up and move to Paris.

A week later Daniel emailed. And then my mom emailed back. And then as fast as you could say “bon voyage”
my mom was picking up and moving to Paris. And taking Matthew with her. Apparently I was old enough to make my own decisions.

“I’d like you to come too,” she said to me.

“Not happening,” I said flippantly. “I’m living with Dad,” I’d told her. Partially to hurt her.

“For now,” my mom responded.

“We’ll see,” I’d said. Her face scrunched up, giving her forehead extra wrinkles but I didn’t care. She deserved it.

It was a clean break. Mom took Matthew. Mom paid for all things Matthew. Dad took me. Dad paid for all things me.

If you peeked into their bank accounts, you’d know I got the better end of the deal.

My dad had been shocked. Even though he’d gotten remarried so quickly, I guess he hadn’t expected my mom to do the same. Plus move to France. Plus take Matthew. And leave me. I probably shouldn’t have been the one to unload the new plan on him, but I guess my mother didn’t want to. I’d always been closer with my mother, and Matthew had been closer with my dad, so once I told him Mom was getting remarried and moving, he assumed Matthew would want to stay and I’d want to go.

Except my mom hadn’t given Matthew a choice, and it felt like I didn’t have one either.

THE COUGAR IN THE HOOD

I hadn’t told my mom the entire truth about Donut.

Taking care of a pet was harder than I’d expected.

When I was little I thought I’d make a great parent. I taught Matthew how to tie his shoelaces, I helped him with his math homework, and I read to him at night. I also had many dolls. Thirty-five. Anytime there was a reason to get a present I begged for a doll. Birthdays, Hanukkah, Valentine’s Day, anything. I knew all their names and changed their outfits when I could and pretended to feed them and diaper them, and put them to bed. But dolls (and brothers) didn’t push your door closed and then meow when they couldn’t reopen it. They didn’t dart outside every time someone came in or left the house. Or create a foul smell that wafted from the little alcove we had declared Donut’s in the kitchen. Or coil themselves around your calves and try to eat you.

Sure, Donut also snuggled. And licked my fingers. And slept on my stomach. But she also took up a lot of my time. She needed things. Litter boxes. Kitty chow. Fresh water. Shots. More shots. Since Vi was usually busy with
The Issue
stuff after school, I took Donut to the vet. Now, I turned off Grand Road and took a shortcut through Kantor Street. Wait. Was that—?

Hudson. Ringing someone’s doorbell.

I hit the brakes so I wouldn’t drive past him. “Check it out, Donut!” I said.

“Meow.”

Maybe I could finally find out what Hudson’s secret was. Not that I thought he was a drug dealer. Would he really be dealing at five
P.M.
in the suburbs?

The door opened and I craned my neck to see inside. Was it someone from school?

Holy crap.

It was Ms. Franklin. My calculus teacher.

“What the . . . ?”

I called Vi’s cell but she didn’t answer.

I tried Marissa instead. After explaining the situation, I said, “Why would Hudson be going into Ms. Franklin’s house?” As I said the words, I felt a pang of . . . of something.

She laughed. “He wouldn’t.”

“He just did.”

“She doesn’t teach senior math,” Marissa told me. “Although maybe what they say is true.”

“What?”

“That he’s an escort.”

I snort laughed. “Please.”

“You’ve never heard that? He is hot.”

“What guy from Westport is an escort? I bet he models, and that’s how he could afford his Jeep.”

“Why the big secret if he models?” she asks. “Maybe he’s having an affair with Ms. Franklin. She’s hot too.”

I pushed any weird feelings away and said, “Maybe she’s his sugar mommy.”

“Can you be a sugar mommy on a teacher’s salary?”

“You should see her house,” I said, before hanging up. I eyed the multiple floors and BMW in the driveway. Ms. Franklin could afford a young sexy thing if she wanted one.

I took my foot off the brake and kept going. “Donut,” I said, “calculus has just gotten a lot more interesting.”

A SNAG IN THE PLAN

Vi banged the back of her head against my locker. “Disaster,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” I said. My thoughts flew immediately to our living arrangements—omigod, had we been caught?—and my pulse quickened.

“I’ll show you what’s wrong.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall to the cafeteria. “That. Is. Very. Wrong.”

Jodi Dillon and Liam Packinson were making out in the back of the cafeteria.

I sighed in relief. Then I refocused, devoting my attention to Vi. “Uh-oh.”

“You were right,” she said.

“That you shouldn’t sleep with someone you barely know?”

“No. That redheads are the devil.”

HIT THE ROAD

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Marissa said from the backseat of my car, on our way home from school that afternoon. “Aaron and I are waiting until this summer. Until we’re ready.”

“Aaron and you are waiting because you live in Westport and he lives in Boston. Not the same thing,” I said. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. This morning, Vi had wanted to review her notes before an American history test, so I had been allowed to drive. She’d skipped her
Issue
meeting to come home with us.

“We could have done it last summer, but we didn’t. You don’t just decide to have sex because you feel like having sex. You decide to have sex once you realize you’re in love with someone and want to express that love physically. Are you sure you’re ready, April? You don’t have to do it. Even though you’re on the pill, you can wait until you’re sure.”

“Oh, blah,” Vi said, rolling her eyes at me. “Where did you find her? She’s a bigger cheeseball than you are.”

“Noah and I are ready,” I said, and turned right at the corner. “I’m sure.”

“How do you know?” Marissa asked.

Since I didn’t know the answer to that, I said, “You just know.” We’d been together for over two years, we’d been saying “I love you” for a year and a half . . . we’d done everything else. And I did want things to change. I wanted to change things between us. I wanted to make things . . . better. Stronger. And sex would do that. I could tell that my new life was causing some sort of disconnect between us, and I wanted us to get back that intimate feeling. And sex was nothing if not intimate.