Tricks (3 page)

with an eye missing. Since

I'd really like to hang on to both of my eyes and all of my limbs, I figured I'd

better find my true self

*

somewhere other than Perry

County. Best way I could

think of was through the

"be anyone you choose to be"

possibilities of online dating.

32

Granted, One Possibility

Was hooking up with a creep-- a pervert, looking to spread

some incurable disease to some

poor, horny idiot. I met more than one pervert, but I never

*

let them do me. Nope, horny or not, I wasn't an idiot. No

homosexual yokel, anxious

enough to get laid to let any

guy who swung the correct

*

direction into my jeans.

I wanted my first real sex to be with the right guy. Someone

experienced enough to teach

me, but not humiliate me.

*

Someone good-looking.

Young. Educated. A good

talker, yes, but a good listener, too. Someone maybe even

hoping to fall in love.

33

Incredibly

Unimaginably, Loren turned

out to be all those things, and I found him in Louisville!

He opened my eyes to a wider

world, introduced me to the

*

avant-garde--performance art, nude theater, alternative lit.

He gave me a taste for caviar, pâté, excellent

California cabernet. After

*

years of fried chicken and

Pabst Blue Ribbon, such

adjustments could only be

born of love. Truthfully, love was unexpected. I've

*

said it before, and I'll repeat,

I didn't fall out of the tree

yesterday. But that first day, when Loren opened his door,

I took one look and fell

*

flat on my face. Figuratively, of course. I barely stumbled as I crossed the threshold-- into his apartment, and into the certainty of who I am.

34

A Poem by Whitney Lang
Stumbling

I only have one question, scraping the inside of me.

Answer it, and I will

stumble

back into her shadow.

Shut my mouth, never

ask again. I've tried to ignore it, but it won't go

away.

It haunts my dreams, chases me through every single day, and I

don't

have the strength to turn around. Face it down. So please tell me and I swear I'll never

ask

again. It's in your

power to make it go

away And all you have to do is tell me

why

you love her more.

35

Whitney Living in Someone's Shadow

Totally blows. Don't get

me wrong. I love my sister.

Just not as much as my mother

loves her. Doesn't matter how

*

hard I try, I can never quite

measure up to Kyra. I'm pretty.

She's beautiful. I'm smart.

She's a genius. I can sing

*

a tolerable alto. She'll solo, lead soprano, at the Met.

Mom's own failed dreams

resurrected in Kyra.

*

And speaking of dreams, mine are small.
Shortsighted,

Mom calls them. Interior

design, maybe. Or fashion.

*

Kyra, however, is majoring in International Relations.

I don't get it. What does she want to be? A spy?

36

I thought things would get

better when she went off to Vassar. Two thousand, three hundred and fifty-six

*

miles away from Santa Cruz, the pretentious California beach

town where we live. But no

amount of miles can make

*

her shadow disappear. It's

only longer, stretched across the continent. Her on one side.

Me stuck fast on the other.

37

It's Not So Bad

When my dad's home. He's an investment banker in the fine

old city of San Francisco.

Too far to commute every day,

*

so he keeps an apartment there

four nights a week, comes home for regular three-day weekends.

Used to be regular, anyway.

*

My dad's my hero, and when

he's home he makes Mom stay off my ass. I don't say words like "ass" when he's around.

*

Don't want him to think I'm a "foul-mouthed bitch," as my

mom enjoys calling me. Wonder

where I got the mouth from.

*

Anyway, Daddy loves me, and if he happens to play

favorites, the dice usually roll

my way. Probably just making

*

up for Mom. But hey, that's

okay. One out of two ain't bad.

I just hate when they argue.

Because it's usually about me.

38

More and More Lately

It seems like Mom makes a point of staying gone when

Daddy's home. She golfs. Plays

tennis. Spends hours at the gym.

*

Sometimes she visits a friend in Monterey. I assume a female

friend, but wouldn't put it past Mom to have a thing going on the side.

*

Pretty sure she doesn't have a bi

side, but whatever floats her lead-

bottomed boat, as long as it means

she's hanging out anywhere but here.

*

I love when it's just Daddy and me.

Usually it's here in SC, but once in a while, I'll go into the city, spend the weekend with him there.

*

San Francisco has to be the most

beautiful place in the world, with its stunning old homes, stacked like Legos on its incredibly steep

*

hills. There are museums. Galleries.

The symphony and the ballet.

Daddy has taught me to appreciate

all of these things, and not give

39

a sideways glance at SF's uglier

underbelly. Homeless people.

Panhandlers. Drug dealers, pimps, and Tenderloin freaks, often only

*

a street or two removed from the thriving business district and the vibrant waterfront tourist

traffic. A city of enigmas.

*

I like enigmas. I mean, face

it. Semi-absent father. Absent-

for-the-moment sister. Totally

absent mother, not a whole lot

*

of affection, but plenty of time

all on my own, I'm a walking, talking poster child for early

promiscuity. Aren't I?

40

Well, Not Exactly

See, between the longtime local

hype about AIDS and a real-time

example of how rotten young

mothering can make a person

*

(Mom was only nineteen when she had Kyra; I followed a little over three

years later), not to mention how truly

disgusting venereal diseases

*

look in those movies they show

you in school, I have not been in a hurry to let just any guy

pluck the rosebud. True love first,

*

I've always said, and that has been enough to keep me a virgin.

Up until now. I mean, technically

I'm still a virgin at fifteen.

*

But I'm also in love, and I'm pretty

sure Lucas loves me, too. We've been skin-on-skin. I just haven't let him

talk me into "all the way in."

41

That's Liable to Change

Any time. I've been holding out, wanting to be certain that he loves me for more than my body. But how

can you really know that?

*

We've been together almost a year. He's a senior at Kirby, the same private college prep school

that prepped Kyra for Vassar.

*

She was valedictorian, of course.

I take AP classes at Empire. Less

Pressure. Less having to live up to valedictorian expectations.

*

Lucas and I met at a Kirby honor

choir performance last spring. Kyra

sang two solos. Lucas stood in the back

row, mostly faking the words. Once

*

in a while he actually belted out a few in a deep, mellow bass. I couldn't

help but stare. And not at Kyra.

Lucas stole my attention completely.

*

I mean, he's freaking beautiful.

His hair falls, a lush gold cascade, well past his shoulders. It frames the steep angles of his face perfectly.

42

His eyes are green, but almost

clear, like cool emerald pools.

You want to dive deep down into them and swim awhile.

*

That first night, after the sheet

music was all stored away,

I went looking for Kyra and cookies, not necessarily in that order.

*

I found her, talking with Lucas.

And for not even close to the first

time in my life, the little green

monster sank its fangs into me.

*

Kyra wasn't interested in Lucas.

Her taste in men runs toward PhD

candidates (total geeks). But I

wasn't sure Lucas knew that.

*

So I took dead aim at making

darn sure he did, pushing straight in between them. "Hey, sis," I said,

"Mom is looking for you."

43

That Was Mostly a Lie

But it worked. Kyra kisses

Mom's butt almost as much as Mom kisses hers. She took off with a simple,
Excuse me.

*

I turned to Lucas. "Good

performance. You've got a great voice...." Better

eyes, but I didn't go there.

*

His smile revealed major bucks in dental work.
Yeah. At least

when I can remember the words.

So... you're Kyra's little sister?

*

The "little" made me wince.

Of course, I was only fourteen at the time. Kyra's eighteenth

birthday was sneaking up.

*

Whatever. I had to play nice,

"That's me. Kyra's little sister.

But you can call me Whitney

if you want. It's shorter."

44

Something about the tone of my voice tipped him off.

Ooh. Struck a nerve, huh?

Well, little sis, no worries.

*

He gave a long, assessing look.

You measure up okay. Besides...

He lowered his voice.
Just between you and me, your sister's a bitch.

*

O-M-G! No one, and I mean
no

one,
had ever told me that before.

I studied his face, trying to find a hint of insincerity. Couldn't.

*

Something sparked between us.

Maybe it was as simple as him

thinking my sister was a bitch.

Sharing my opinion. Something

*

others rarely do. And not only

sharing it, but not being afraid to voice such an unpopular sentiment.

"Just between you and me, I agree."

45

Okay, Very Likely

He saw how much I needed to hear that, and maybe he figured it might be a way into my panties, and maybe it will lead to that eventually.

*

Maybe even soon. I'm not really sure

how or why I've held out this long, except that protecting my virginity is one thing I can accomplish

*

all on my own. Won't give it away

too cheaply. Not even to Lucas, whose touch simply electrifies me.

That night, as the reception broke up

*

and we started toward our families, our hands touched. The energy was pure magic. He felt it too, turned back to me immediately.

*

His smile was lupine. Ravenous.

I needed to get to know this guy, and so when he said,
Uh... don't

suppose you'd give me your number?

*

I recited it once. Repeated it.

Asked him to repeat it to me, a feat that he managed easily.

He remembered it too.

46

It Kind of Surprised Me

When he called a couple of days

later. Not sure why. I guess it's because I always set myself up for disappointment. Not that time.

*

Hey,
he said,
it's Lucas, from

Kirby....
Like I wouldn't have

remembered!
I was thinking about a day trip to Big Sur Interested?

*

Like I wouldn't have been!

But I didn't want him to know

my temp had just flared well over one-oh-one. "Uh, maybe. When?"

*

I don't suppose you could, like, ditch school tomorrow? At

my long pause, he laughed.
Okay.

How about Saturday, then?

*

That gave me two whole days to make up a believable excuse.

No way would Mom let me go to Big Sur with a guy I just met.

*

Okay, she wouldn't have let me

go with any guy. Not that I cared.

Getting away with stuff was a well-

loved hobby. And even if it wasn't,

47

I would have done just about anything to spend the day with someone who made me feel

important. Pretty, maybe. Alive.

*

Believe it or not, my mom made it easy.
I'm playing golf with Cyn

tomorrow,
she told me on Friday.

And we're doing dinner afterward.

*

You'll be okay here alone, right?

She barely even heard my ramble about going over to Irish's for the day.
Great. I'll be home late.

*

Just like that, my Saturday had

opened up. And, very much like my wandering mother, I was oh-