Want (22 page)

After I convince R.J. to sneak in my cell phone—his final brotherly act before he heads back to school—I listen to six messages from Dave, each more frantic than the last. When I call him back, he picks up on the first ring.

“Julianne!”

“What, dost thou not lovest enough to call thine own pet
kitten
?”

“A rose by any other name, blah, blah, blah. Now tell me what the hell’s going on.”

I fill him in but leave out some of the more embarrassing particulars. When I finish, it’s silent on the other end, and my stomach drops. I said too much. This is how it goes, I guess. I should be used to it. I say too much and get that wordless pity stare from people. Then, because
my
problems make
them
uncomfortable, they avoid me. I thought Dave was different, but I guess some things are universal.

“When do you get out of the hospital?”

“Tomorrow, why?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Wait, what? Tomorr—” But he’s already hung up.

***

True to his word, Dave’s in the driveway when we get home the next afternoon.

“Who—is that—what’s
he
doing here?” Daddy’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

“Good to see you again, sir. Sorry it’s under these circumstances. Hope you don’t mind, but I thought you
might need
some help. From what Julianne’s told me, you have a lot on your plate.”

Daddy blinks a few times but recovers his long-buried Southern manners. “Um, yes. Well. Guess you could get the suitcase out of the back while I help Juli into the house.”

Dave doesn’t say a word to me, but he winks on his way back to the trunk. Fifteen minutes later, Daddy’s back out the door to visit Mama, and I’m settled on the couch in the den. Pillows support my shoulder, and Dave attempts to boost my morale. I want to be cynical, but Dave makes it difficult.

“So, you just dropped everything and jumped on a plane?”

“Something
like
that.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but
why
?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks. Yeah, thanks, but really. Why would you do that? For
me
, I mean.”

“Kitten, come on. I’m a jerk but I’m not heartless. Listen, you helped Isaac out of a funk. He’s my best friend, and I appreciate what you did for him. Now you’re my friend, too. Believe it or not, even a self-centered schmuck like me has a heart. Plus, you need me. Your brother’s at school, Ike’s…being Ike, and your dad doesn’t seem like the warm-fuzzy type. But I have to tell you, there are some things I won’t do for you. No matter how much you beg, I will not wipe your—”

“
Dave!
”

“You love it, admit it. I’m so thoughtful that I brought a collection of movies for your viewing pleasure. I also brought microwave popcorn and noticed you have sodas in the fridge.”

“So what movies did you bring?”

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I packed a bunch. I have quite the personal collection. You’re laughing. You thought all I owned was porn, huh? Common misconception. I actually have quite varied tastes. Here’s
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
, comedic gold. Oh, but it probably hurts to laugh, huh? Okay, no comedies.
Fight Club
? Oh, no. Sorry. That was insensitive. How about something classic? Oh, I’ve got it. Everything I learned about the South, I got from this movie.”

“As God is my witness,” I quote, “if you pull out
Gone with the Wind
, tomorrow will
not
be another day.”

“No, no.
A Streetcar Named Desire
. Tennessee Williams. Hey, Stellaaaa!”

“I had to read it in school, but I’ve never seen the play or movie.”

“Oh, kitten, you’re killing me. But I have to warn
you,
Vivien Leigh is in this one, too. So if you go postal over
Gone with the Wind
—”

“Just put it in.”

The disc drops from his hands to the floor. “I never get tired of hearing those words.”

I giggle, but it hurts and I can’t even hurl a pillow at him.

“Oh, oh, sorry. I’ve been a bad boy.” He wags his eyebrows at me but starts the movie.

“Whoa. Like…whoa.” I can’t take my eyes off the screen.

“What?”

“Who is that guy?”

“What guy?

“What do you mean, what guy?
That
guy. Stanley.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Who is he?”

“Uh, Marlon Brando?”

I draw a blank.

Dave looks incredulous. “You know,
Julius Caesar
?
On the Waterfront
?
The Godfather
?
Superman
?”

“Sorry.”

“Born in 1924, died in 2004…”

“Still nothing.”

The guy who plays Stanley in the movie is crazy hot. Dead, according to Dave, but hot.

“You gonna go jump the TV screen?”

“Shut up.”

“So he does it for you, huh? That’s the type you go for?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The strong, moody, broken type. A fixer-upper. Since you’ve read the play, I don’t have to tell you what happens and how it ends. The guy’s an
uber
ass. Me? I’m more like Mitch.”

“Oh, please. You’re more like Don Juan. Or Hugh Hefner.”

“I’ll accept Don Juan. But Hugh Hefner? Give me a little credit.”

“Oh, right. He doesn’t have a problem with age differences like you do. My bad.”

“No, I just believe good things come to those who wait. And I’m willing to wait,” he says, suddenly serious.

He skims his fingertips down my arm and turns my hand over to brush the inside of my wrist. The scars are visible, but he doesn’t say anything about them. I try to pull away, but he holds tight. He lifts my wrist to his mouth and places the lightest kiss there.

“When you’re done with him, or he’s done with you, or whatever it is you’ve got going on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I take it we’re not talking about Marlon Brando anymore.”

“You tell me.”

“I…I haven’t talked to Isaac since—”

“I know.” Dave suddenly stands and heads to the kitchen.

When he returns with two glasses of soda, I tell him, “I’m a Taurus, did you know that?”

“An April birthday, huh? That’s not too far away.”

“Well, I don’t know how many redheaded Tauruses you’ve met in your life, but I can tell you, if you think I’ll drop a subject just because you walk into another room to avoid it, you’ve seriously underestimated genetics and astrology.”

He chuckles. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Vivien Leigh flutters on the screen like a broken Southern belle. She waves her hands and covers her face.

“So. He knows you’re in Mobile? Are you staying with him?”

“Yes to the first question, no to the second.”

“Did you talk to him about what happened at Felix’s?”

“Yes, I did.”

I raise my eyebrows and wait for him to elaborate. He watches the screen. Marlon Brando grabs Vivien Leigh, throws her down on the bed.

“I told him to stay the hell away until he can stop acting like a psychotic prick. Sorry. Don’t mean to be territorial—I won’t lift my leg or anything—but he was really out of line. In a few days, he’ll probably show up here like nothing happened. He doesn’t know the extent of…he knows the basics, but unless his uncle told him, he doesn’t know details. Are you able to, um—”

“Am I able to play? I don’t know. Not for a while. I’ve got physical therapy tomorrow, and
other
kinds of therapy every day after school.”

“And your audition’s coming up, right?”

“Yeah. Next month.”

I don’t tell him that when the pills wear off, the muscle pain is excruciating, like someone’s twisting a hot branding iron into my shoulder socket. I have two black eyes and my head aches.

Vivien Leigh throws herself to the floor, writhing and moaning. A stout woman tries to force her out the door, but she won’t budge. The doctor who’s come to take her away uses a different tactic. He’s kind and patient, and gives her his hand to help her up. When she’s upright,
he offers his arm, which she takes. Then she utters her iconic line:
“Whoever you are…I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

***

That night, Dave stays at Mrs. Laroche’s house. He refuses to ask Isaac for a bed—“I’m making a point”—and Daddy doesn’t offer him R.J.’s room, though it would be the polite thing to do. I’m not sure what I think or feel about that. There’s so much to go over, so much the therapists want me to talk about. I don’t have the energy to sort this out, too.

Dave stays for three entire days. He makes me lunch, doles out my bevy of new pills, keeps me company, and lightens the mood when I slip into darkness. I tell him everything. I’ve never had a friend I could tell everything, except R.J. And Dave listens. Sure, he flirts a lot and makes plenty of dirty jokes, but more often than not, he just listens and nods. If I ask, he tells me what he thinks or gives advice, but he doesn’t offer it if I don’t want it.

There’s something that’s bothered me these last few days. I want to ask him about it, but I’m afraid he’ll get mad, and the last thing I want to do is offend him. He leaves for the airport in a couple of hours, but for now he’s still in full nurse mode.

“Where’s your lotion?” he asks.

“Like, hand lotion? There’s some in the cabinet next to the microwave.”

He trots into the kitchen, returns to the sofa in the den and pulls my feet onto his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I figure your feet are about the only parts of you that don’t hurt right now, so why not make them feel fabulous?”

“Fabulous?”

“
Fabulous
, darling.”

Hmm, it’s now or never.

“Can I ask you something, without you getting upset?”

“Go for it.” He warms the lotion in his hands and picks up my left foot.

“Dave, are you…I mean, it seems like…have you ever thought you might be…”

“Gay? No, though you’re not the first person to ask me that.” He works his thumbs up the middle of my foot, loosening the arch.

“It just seems like, well, you’re awesome. You actually listen to me, and now you’re massaging my feet, for crying out loud. You’ve been so…
fabulous
these last few days.”

“I also look great in an apron.”

“Yes, you do.” I giggle. Yesterday at lunch, he found
Mama’s
apron and grabbed a wooden spoon to do an impression of the Swedish chef from
The Muppet Show
. I almost snorted milk out my nose. “So, you’re not mad?”

“No. But you have to remember that I have three sisters, two older and one younger. Then
there’s
me in the middle. The older two tortured me. They only let me play with them if they could dress me up—barrettes, balloons up the shirt, lipstick, the whole nine yards. I guess you could say they put me in touch with my feminine side.”

I groan when he shoves his knuckle into a knot.

“Then there’s my younger sister, Madison. I’m closest with her because she was my baby doll. My older sisters were witches, but Maddie let me snuggle her, tuck her in at night, and read her stories. When we got older, I screened her boyfriends, helped her with homework, and went with her to pick out prom dresses. She’s married now to a great guy and has a little boy. I’m his godfather.”

I bet Dave’s really
good
with kids.

“But no, back to the original question, I’m not gay. I just have a healthy appreciation for women. That includes the one right here.”

There goes that theory. I thought maybe I could salvage a little of my pride after his refusal in December at the beach. Maybe he’d say
It
’s not you, it’s me
. And I’d be totally cool with that, but I’m back to square one. It’s still my fault. Something about me is flawed beyond redemption.

“Dave—”

“Listen, Juli, I need to tell you this. Not just because I’m trying to hit on you, which I totally am,
but
because you really do need to hear it. You don’t take compliments very well, which makes me think you didn’t get enough of them growing up.”

He finishes the left foot and starts on the right one. I squirm.

“You’re obviously talented. You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’re loyal—even when you shouldn’t be, it seems. You’re pretty mature for your age. I think that’s why it’s easy to forget you’re seventeen.
Probably because you’ve had to deal with a lot more serious shit than the average teenager.
And I get the feeling you’re alone a lot. I’ve seen it the last few days. Now I know why you throw yourself so whole-hog into your piano. It also helps explain why you weren’t able to connect with the music on an emotional level.”