Losing Me, Finding You(21)

I rub my hand across my face and stand up, moving over to my window and peeking out at the quiet street. Last night, each time a motorcycle went by, I woke with a start, heart pounding, and entertained fantasies of Austin climbing the trellis and ravaging me in my bed. I smile and drop the curtain, stepping over to my dresser and dreading what I'm going to see inside each drawer. There will be neatly folded cardigans, camisoles in pastel colors, and skirts with floral prints. The outfit I wore last night had been made up of old Halloween costumes and honestly, was the sexiest thing I owned. I sigh and dress myself in a beige skirt, yellow top, and white sweater. I wear the same shoes, though.

“Did you sleep well last night?” my mother asks as I come down the stairs slowly, trying to ignore the soreness between my legs. At least you didn't bleed, I think, imagining how embarrassing that would've been. At least Austin doesn't know that he was my first, and I definitely do not plan on telling him, thank you very much.

“I did,” I lie, wondering how Christy's doing, thinking that maybe I should head over there now and check on her, drag her to town with me to talk to Austin.

My mother pours me a cup of coffee and adds milk and sugar, not bothering to ask how I'd like it; she never has.

“I have some good news,” she tells me as she stirs the cloudy liquid with a spoon. I stare at her face, at the purple bags under her eyes and the twitch in her cheek. She's still mad at me, but she's hiding it well. I wonder why? “Your aunt and cousin have decided to move the date of the wedding.” Oh, good, I think. Then maybe I can get out of here before I'm forced into going.

“That's nice,” I say, trying to be pleasant, wondering if my father is still here somewhere or if he's left already. I sure hope he's gone. “What's the date?”

“Tomorrow,” my mother says and I try not to let my jaw drop.

“Tomorrow?” Mama pushes my coffee across the countertop, but doesn't look at me.

“We decided a wedding would do the family good, bring us closer together.” My heart starts to pound, sensing a trap.

“Oh?”

“And besides, Jodie is … ” Nobody in my family will admit aloud that my cousin is pregnant out of wedlock. I try to remind myself that we're in the twenty-first century, but it isn't easy. “Getting antsy to start her family.” Uh huh. “Your aunt's bringing over your dress later. I assume you'll be here to try it on?” I stare at her, but I don't know what to say. I think about Austin again. Fuck no, beautiful. That's what he'd say; I know it is. I start to get tingling feelings in my … how do I say it? … my vagina? Too clinical. Down there? Too Fifty Shades. My cunt. My *. I smile. It feels quite good to be bad, doesn't it?

My mother notices my smile and gives me a strange look. I cough and straighten out my features into a duller, more neutral expression.

“Christy and I have plans,” I tell her, scrambling for something useful to say. “To go shopping for new shoes for the potluck on Saturday. I assume that's postponed?”

“It's going to function as the reception,” she says curtly and then looks down at my white heels, wrinkling her nose in distaste, even though she's the one that bought them for me. Of course it is. Couldn't possibly break that special, little tradition, now could we? “And pick some up for the wedding while you're out.” I try to smile at her, but my lips feel broken, like I've abused them with fake expressions for so long that they no longer wish to obey my instructions.

I take a quick sip of my coffee, decide that next time, I'm going to try it black, and head out the front door and straight over to Christy's.

Her mother answers and politely tells me that my friend is unavailable, sending me away with a sniff and a sneer. Oh dear. I pretend to walk away, doubling back when Mrs. Hall finally stops peeping out the curtains, and slip through the back gate, tiptoeing around to the deck and looking around for a rock to toss at my girlfriend's window. She's right; Christy's right. We stopped maturing and are stuck in a perpetual cycle of being sixteen years old. I pick up a small white rock and chuck it at her glass, cringing at the loud ping as it ricochets back and nearly hits me in the head.

The window slides open and Christy leans out with a sad smile tainting her pretty face.

“Hey there, stranger,” she says and winces, rubbing at her eye. I don't see any actual bruises, but then, her father is as good as mine at making sure nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors. My hand unconsciously lifts to my cheek. It's sore, but forgettable. Honestly, the gentle ache between my legs hurts more. “What's up?”

“We're going into town to shop for shoes,” I say, pausing as Christy's mom appears on the back deck, squinting her green eyes at me like she wishes I would disintegrate right there on the lawn. Then again, she probably wouldn't want to harm the perfect sea of green, so maybe she's just wishing I would drop dead and go to hell. Yes, I think. That sounds a bit more like Mrs. Hall's style.

“Sneaking around other people's backyards, Miss Cross? What would your mother say?” I suspect that she already knows what my mother would say because I'm certain that they've just spoken to one another over the phone. Mrs. Hall snorts and shakes her head like I am so ridiculously unbelievable. She tried to ban me from hanging out with Christy once because I put black eyeliner on at school and she saw me, calling me a Satan worshiper. Today, she has a similar facial expression. “But you both are in desperate need of new shoes, and I am not about to go down to that … that festival.” She spits the word out like it's poison and lets it sizzle in the warm, morning air. “So go, but don't dawdle.” Already, Christy is disappearing from her window, and I know that she's halfway down the stairs. Mrs. Hall smooths her hand over her blonde hair and touches her bun, just to make sure it's still in perfect order, before turning away and fading into the darkness of her house, slamming the back door in my face.