Not Today, But Someday(9)
When Joey got to the mall, he pulled up beside the box office window. “Curb-side service,” he said. I thanked him as I got out, as did his step-sister.
“Are you going to park the car?” I’d asked him.
“No, I’m meeting my friends at the arcade. I’ll see you in two hours.”
I held on to the edge of the door, getting ready to slam it, but he drove off before I could. I stared at the tire tracks his car left as he peeled away.
“This is gonna be so fun!” Mariah said, touching my arm to try to direct me toward the theater. I tried to smile at her, but I wasn’t sure what my expression actually looked like. It confused her, too, based on her reaction.
The movie was a comedy, but I cried most of the way through it. A year later, I still hate Jim Carrey by association.
And yet, I don’t hate Joey. I let Mariah go home with her step-brother, but I called my house and asked for someone to come pick me up. While I waited for my mom, I sat inside, eating Raisinettes and counting the checkerboard tiles in the lobby. There were two-hundred-twenty-nine.
I didn’t fawn over Joey much after that either, though. I didn’t appreciate what he’d done, but my lingering – albeit dwindling – affection made it difficult for me to be as angry with him as I should have been. He used me.
Chris was much angrier than I was. He was the most upset with himself, though, because he knew about the setup the day before it happened and promised not to tell me. He swore to me that night when I came home with tear-streaked makeup and chocolate stains on my new blouse that he would never let a friend come between our relationship again. It took my brother a month to forgive Joey... and he only did it after I begged him to.
Now, Joey’s a little piece of home to us. He’s familiar, and for that, I like that he’s coming over today. I also want him to see my new hairstyle and my tight-fitting jeans and sweater. A late bloomer, I was finally starting to appreciate curves that he might find attractive some day. I wanted him to regret what he’d done. Not that I’d ever give him another chance. I wouldn’t, especially now that I’ve seen how love can destroy people. Surely it’s better to be alone than to be cheated on and lied to after devoting your life to someone. And already, I couldn’t trust Joey.
“Why are you and Chris fighting?” My mom’s tired voice startles me.
“We’re not,” I assure her. “Were we too loud?”
“You were,” she says. “It’s before ten on a Saturday. New rule. No yelling before... noon on Saturdays.”
Mom had been making a lot of new rules lately. She was trying to find the good things about being single. Not having to get up to make breakfast for her pig-headed, cheating husband was one of them. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. Your sister called last night. She’s coming down for dinner.”
“Which guy is she bringing this time?”
“Someone named Josh,” she says, shaking her head. Josh was probably the twentieth ‘serious boyfriend’ Jen had been with since she started dating at fifteen. In fact, if this was a new guy, this would be Josh number three. Or four. I can’t remember anymore.
“Can’t I go out with Chris and Joey instead? I think they’re going for pizza.”
“She wants to spend some time with you,” my mom says.
“With Josh?”
“He draws, or something. She thinks you’ll get along.”
“I’m sure we will,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “She doesn’t even know what I do, Mom. She’s never even asked.”
“You should tell her. Just try to get along with her, Em, okay?” The tea kettle whistles from the kitchen, and Mom smiles as she leaves my room to tend to it.
I should tell her. I laugh to myself. When have we ever talked about me? Every conversation we have is so Jen-focused that I’d learned way more about my sister than I ever wanted to know. The only good thing about having her as a promiscuous older sister was that she told me things about sex that my parents wouldn’t talk about. Most of those conversations, I couldn’t imagine having them with Mom, or especially Dad. Especially now.
At school on Friday, my English teacher gave me a copy of the Canterbury Tales to read. In a week, I have to present a tale and provide commentary on its narrator to the class. She had thoughtfully assigned each character to a student– at least that’s what she’d told me. She had assigned the task on Wednesday, and she’d admitted she was worried when I didn’t show up to class this week. She’d assigned me the Knight, and expressed to me that he was her favorite character.
Waiting for something to happen today, I decide to start the book to kill some time. The Knight, by description, sounds like the perfect man; the kind of man that doesn’t really exist in modern society. Up until a few weeks ago, I believed he did. I believed my dad exemplified the chivalrous and faithful traits of a good man, but he proved me wrong. Accepting that life in Chaucer’s time was likely more pure, with more structure and fewer adulterous temptations, I accept this Knight in his shiny armor and read on.
I’m not too far into the story when I figure out why she gave me this particular tale. I’d wondered, since she’d never met me, how ‘thoughtful’ the assignment could be. It was very obvious, though. The young, fair maiden in the story was named Emily.
Lori L. Otto's Books
- Where Shadows Meet
- Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)
- A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)
- Save the Date
- Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)
- My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)
- Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)
- Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)
- Speakeasy (True North #5)
- The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)