The Lighter Side of Life and Death Page 9

  She sounds defiant and I try to interrupt but Kat keeps going, her eyes glued to mine. “So I’m sorry I can’t deal with this the way you want and pretend like nothing ever happened, but it’s not that I’m mad at you. It’s all just too close and sudden for me right now.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to skip past it like it never happened,” I remind her. “Not me.” She’s got me so wound up that I can’t think straight. Into me? Why does she have to make that sound like the absolute worst thing in the world? Why can’t I even be happy about it for two seconds without her squashing it?

  Kat focuses on the wall behind me and shakes her head, looking pained. “I didn’t want you thinking about us like that. Next time we’re alone you could be wanting a second helping, thinking ‘Why not, we’ve done it before.’”

  So that’s what trust sounds like. The thing is, she could be right. I might’ve thought that.

  “And anyway, I didn’t want to talk about it,” she adds. “Even talking about it is too weird. We’ve been friends for so long; I can’t change the way I think that quickly. It just feels wrong. We should’ve just stayed friends. That’s what we’re best at.”

  “I know that. That’s why yesterday was so cool for a while. It was like the old us.” My stomach twinges as I tear my gaze away. I don’t even know what I want most from her anymore and I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s already decided what she wants.

  Kat groans and scrunches up her face. She’s so embarrassed that it’s uncomfortable to look at her. “I can’t do the old us anymore. I’d like to but it’s different, Mason. Especially now that everyone else knows. It’s like it’s official. There’s no going back.”

  “We just need to relax.” I rest my hand on her shoulder without giving the motion a second thought. “It doesn’t have to be like that.” Kat stands ultra still, careful not to react, but I can see the proof in her eyes. It’s not the same when I touch her anymore. For her, it’s all about that single night.

  “As soon as you’re with someone else everything will go back to the way it was,” I insist, snatching my hand back and dangling it at my side. “We’re just in this awkward in-between stage.” Our entire relationship’s slipping through my fingers and practically all I can do is watch. I wonder if it would help to tell her about Colette, but the words don’t come.

  “Maybe,” Kat says doubtfully. “But in the meantime I think it’s better if we take a breather. I’ve been having enough trouble dealing with you lately and now there’s Jamie being jealous too. Maybe we were all too close to begin with.” She shivers, folding her arms hastily in front of her chest. “It’s sort of incestuous.”

  “We’ve barely even been talking lately,” I point out. “How would this be any different?”

  “Before we were trying to act like everything was normal. And it’s not. The three of us need breathing space. I don’t think we should hang out at lunch together for a while and maybe next time there’s a history project or whatever we should try to work with other people.”

  “That’s not going to make things any less weird, Kat. How’re we supposed to get past it if we’re never around each other?” She can’t mean that. The last three years must count for something.

  Kat sighs and tells me she’s sorry but that she just doesn’t feel right with things the way they are. She says she doesn’t want me to think that means we’re not friends anymore and that she will absolutely be there for me if I really need her.

  “Yeah, me too,” I say slowly. I almost can’t believe it. I know things have been strained between us lately but this is extreme.

  “Thanks,” she says earnestly. Relief settles onto her face but I feel like she’s reached in and twisted my guts sideways. I remember the first time we slow-danced together at Leslie Alvarez’s fourteenth birthday party. I was almost afraid to put my hands on her, convinced she’d be able to read my feelings through my palms. The thing is, I think she’s known all along anyway. Maybe it just didn’t matter much before.

  “Okay.” My voice is low. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  Kat squeezes my hand quickly. She heads for the door but I’m way behind. I’ve been miles behind since I woke up in bed next to her that night.

  Then I realize that on top of everything else she lied to me. Our conversation wasn’t any different than the one I had with Jamie this morning. Neither of them wants me around.

  ten

  In this crazy new world where my friends are not my friends and a twenty-three-year-old girl kissed me like I was a twenty-three-year-old guy, I don’t know what to expect next. I go running (something I dipped into last summer but haven’t gotten around to much lately) and then start my law homework. Miracle calls to remind me that The Grapes of Wrath is on cable tonight because I mentioned, months ago, that I’d never seen it. She starts raving about Henry Fonda’s “mesmerizing performance” all over again but I can’t watch it anyway; Burke and Brianna are ensconced in the basement for the night.

  “Burn me a copy,” I tell her.

  “I’ll bring it in tomorrow,” she says.

  I spend the rest of the night finishing my homework and IMing Chris Cipolla, Dustin and Charlie Kady. At first they want to talk details but I tell them it’s noyb and they leave it alone fast, except that Dustin says Jamie seemed mad at lunch.

  nmp, I say.

  It’s after midnight when I sign off and go down to the kitchen to microwave some popcorn before I brush my teeth. In this crazy new world where my dad and I are no longer alone in the house, I walk in on him and Nina making out in front of the refrigerator. He’s fondling her ass and kissing her neck rough and she’s tugging at his hair, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted.

  It’s wild and I freeze for a second because although I know they sleep together it never occurred to me that they sleep together the way other people sleep together.

  I back silently out of the room and creep upstairs, Billy slinking by me in the hall, giving me the evil eye. Inside the bathroom I brush my teeth and wet my face, wondering how much longer they’ll be steaming up the kitchen because now I can’t stop thinking about popcorn. Are they actually going to do it down there or what?

  “Mason?” Dad says, rapping gently at the bathroom door.

  I grab a towel and open the door.

  “I believe we got in your way just now,” Dad says apologetically.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him, wiping my face.

  “I don’t want you to feel that you can’t walk around your own house.” He leans against the door frame and adds, “We won’t be making a habit of that.”

  “I was just going to make some popcorn,” I say, to let him know we can drop the topic. “But actually there’s something else I think we need to straighten out.”

  “All right.” His voice registers surprise. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Brianna’s practically living in the basement these days. I don’t want to throw my weight around but we only have one TV.” I used to be the only one who watched it; Dad prefers listening to the radio or reading the newspaper.

  “Nina and I were talking about that the other day,” Dad comments. “How about you and I head over to Best Buy together next week and pick one out for your room?”

  “Okay.” But it’s not just the TV. Sometimes I want to stretch out on the couch with my cell attached to my ear or stride into the house with my friends in tow without worrying about where we’ll park ourselves. Brianna and Burke haven’t even been here a week yet and I’m already starting to feel like a caged animal.

  “It’s an adjustment for all of us,” Dad says. “I guess we’ll just have to come up with solutions as we go along.”

  During the play I’d barely have noticed a few extra bodies around the place. Maybe I’m just spending too much time at home these days. This is a bad time to fall out with Kat and Jamie—we share all the same friends.

  It’s a frustratingly crappy situation that occupies most of my weekend. Jamie’
s determined to guilt-trip me for something he would’ve done in a heartbeat and, yeah, I have some hard feelings about that. I don’t want to obsess on what Kat said about staying away from each other but how exactly do you cut yourself off from someone that you’ve thought of/seen/spoken to every day for the past three years? I understand that she’s confused but her cure hurts worse than the disease.

  It’s obvious that I’m better off concentrating on Colette, so in the midst of all that I start thinking about that white-hot kiss from the other night too. The whole thing leaves me in this bizarre half-hungry, half-distracted state and the only time I shake it is when I’m out on Saturday night. Charlie Kady and I cruise around in his dad’s LeSabre, trying to decide what we should do. We hit Wendy’s for burgers and then Charlie lets me drive awhile. In the end he decides we should look up some girl he met at Whole Foods last week. When we get there she tells us her shift ends at nine, so we have to go back and pick her up then. The three of us drive over to her friend’s father’s condo where she and Charlie disappear into the bedroom for almost an hour and a half.

  The abandoned friend and I watch Supernatural and make jokes about their absence. She seems relieved that I don’t try anything but when Charlie and I leave she offers her phone number anyway.

  In the car Charlie tells me how much he likes the Whole Foods girl and how mind-blowingly fantastic the sex was. He shoots me a furtive look, and for a second I think he’s going to pump me for details about that night with Kat again. “She told me it was only her fourth time,” he says instead. “She said it always hurt before.”

  He’s on a postsex high; he thinks he’s gifted. I know what that’s like.

  “What’d you think of her friend?” he asks.

  “She’s okay.” I can’t figure out why she handed over her number, but it doesn’t matter; it’s not like I intend to call. That’s probably what Colette thought when I gave her my number. So why do I expect to hear her voice every time my cell phone rings?

  Okay, I’m semi-obsessing but at least I’m not stalking her anymore. I’m just not the dangerous type. No doubt she already knows that about me.

  Billy the cat must sense it too because during the week he brushes up against my legs for the first time. It feels like a compliment; I’ve never seen him do that to my dad and they’ve been around each other a lot more.

  Unfortunately that’s the high point of the week. Jamie refuses to say more than three words to me at a time—even over lunch when we’re all sitting together (minus Kat and her girls, who’ve defected to the other side of the cafeteria). It’s glaringly obvious but everyone does their best to ignore the amped-up tension.

  Every day the situation gets a little more tired but I don’t do a thing about it. I’m through trying to convince Jamie of anything. I don’t want to argue. I don’t even expect him to apologize. I just want him to stop blaming me for something (a) the two of us directly involved in felt pretty happy about at the time and (b) that I’m suffering more fallout for than anyone realizes.

  In private Y confides that she thinks Jamie’s acting like a twelve-year-old girl. She also tells me that she saw Kat talking to Hugo in the parking lot that morning and that they were so focused on each other they wouldn’t have heard an atomic bomb detonate.

  A savage pain grips my ribs when I hear that. I know I’m not supposed to care anymore but the thought of them getting back together seriously throws me.

  “Can you find out what that was about?” I ask, feeling desperate.

  “I think I can do that,” she says reluctantly. “Give me a couple days to work on it.”

  So this is how my week goes down: nightly family dinners, homework, running, stilted lunch hours, waiting for Colette to realize just how beguiling I am and harassing Yolanda for the results of her detective work. It’s not a good scene.

  Finally, on Friday, Y pulls me aside on our way into Presentation and Speaking Skills and whispers, “I talked to Kat and everything’s cool. Just Hugo being stupid.”

  “What do you mean?” I take another two steps away from class so no one will overhear.

  “It’s moronic.” Yolanda bunches her eyebrows. “He wanted to know why she did it with you when she wouldn’t do it with him.” The GS gossip mill has been very specific about us, maybe because Kat’s been different with me for weeks. No one is willing to buy into the idea that we did anything less than have full sex together.

  Y folds her arms in front of her breasts and adds, “Honestly, you guys are such dickheads sometimes. Like the universe revolves around your swollen membrane.”

  “Hey,” I say defensively. “Way to lump us all together.”

  “Sorry. I just think the sex thing is better when you’re on an equal playing field—not worrying about what you can get from someone.”

  “You’re still doing it,” I point out. Yolanda doesn’t make a habit of running down straight guys but lots of them gave her a hard time when she first came out in eighth grade. I guess some of it stuck.

  “Okay, end of lecture,” she says resolutely. “Anyway, there’s nothing going on between them. Apparently they got into a shouting match because Hugo said he wouldn’t have hooked up with Monica Gregory in the first place if Kat had been giving him some home loving.” Y tacks a smirk and thick Southern accent onto those last two words.

  “He’s so full of shit,” I growl.

  “Yup.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” I’m way too relieved to feel good about it.

  “Yeah.” Yolanda smooths down her sleeve and grasps her elbow. “I’m not really comfortable with reporting back to you like this, you know?”

  “I won’t ask you again,” I say. “Thanks. Really. I feel better.” It’s amazing what two minutes’ worth of secondhand information can do for you.

  That night I sit in the basement with Burke watching Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. Brianna’s at a sleepover and I don’t think either of us misses her. Burke’s afraid of Count Olaf and this worried look crowds onto his face whenever Jim Carrey’s on-screen. It’s hilarious and I have to suck back a laugh every fifteen minutes. The other funny thing is that he’s all-out crushing on Violet Baudelaire but in complete denial about it.

  “Hey, she’s cute,” I tell him. “There’s nothing wrong with liking her.”

  “Stop talking about me liking her,” he says, exasperated. “You like her.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have a problem with liking her,” I tease.

  Guess what? Six-year-olds are unpredictable. Burke roars and lunges towards me on the couch. His scrawny six-year-old hands struggle to pin my arms back while his bony knees dig into my leg. “Chill, buddy,” I say with a laugh. “This isn’t Jerry Springer.”

  “Who’s Jerry Springer?” he demands, easing off.

  So I guess that’s not one of Brianna’s shows. Looks like she prefers the intellectual challenge of The Doctors or Oprah.

  “A crazy guy with a TV show,” I tell him, my lips relaxing into a smile. “You can’t just jump people like that, buddy. You could break my old-man bones.”

  “You’re not an old man,” Burke says, grinning back at me. One of his bottom teeth is missing. He looks like a hockey player.

  “Compared to you I am.”

  Burke sits with his back against the couch and says, “No more talking about Violet, okay?”

  Because he luvs her, obviously, but sure, whatever. The kid is breaking me up. “Okay, fine,” I agree, grabbing the remote and rewinding the last sixty seconds. We watch the movie in peace until Nina comes down and announces that it’s Burke’s bedtime.

  “Ten more minutes,” he pleads.

  “I think the movie’s almost over,” I add.

  “As soon as the movie’s over then.” Nina turns to go, then swings abruptly back towards Burke. “I almost forgot, Jerome called me at work today. They have a place for you this summer.”

  Burke kicks his feet in the air and grins in approval. “That s
ounds like good news,” I say.

  “I’m going to camp,” Burke explains, still wiggling with happiness.

  Nina gazes fondly down at him. “Don’t miss your movie, guys.” She heads upstairs, closing the door behind her.

  “It’s not a camp with bunk beds,” Burke tells me, turning to face the screen. “It’s only during the day. They take you places and you play sports and eat lunch outside. Last year Mrs. Bartlett came over every day but camp is better.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Bartlett?” I ask.

  “An old lady.” Burke scratches his knee as he glances over at me. “She could do card tricks but she didn’t like to go outside when it was hot.” Suddenly Billy the panther cat appears out of nowhere and meows up from under Burke’s outstretched feet. Burke’s hand casually grazes the top of Billy’s head, a reflex action that I’ve been careful to avoid.

  “Hey, you think I can pet him now?” I ask. Burke shakes his head, giggling like I’ve made a knock-knock joke. “I think he’s starting to like me,” I add, dropping my hand and leaning forward. Billy darts across the basement like a bolt of lightning while Burke hunches over and laughs so hard that he burps.

  “Okay, so maybe he doesn’t like me that much,” I say, laughing too.

  “He doesn’t like anybody except us,” Burke proclaims, showing off his hockey player grin. “That’s just the way he is.”

  “What about Mrs. Bartlett? Did he like her?” In my mind she’s pear shaped, probably because of her name, and wears long sleeves all summer. She’s the type of person who’d admire an anti social cat, even if it didn’t like her back.

  “No.” Burke rubs his eyes and jiggles around like a lunatic on the couch. “Mrs. Bartlett only likes birds,” he gasps between giggles. I swear, he’s laughing so much that I half expect him to wet his pants.

  “You’re a maniac,” I tell him. It’s impossible to keep a straight face with him howling away next to me. “You’re missing the movie.” I rewind it a second time while Burke struggles to catch his breath.

  It takes nearly twenty minutes to finish the movie and then Burke gets up, without Nina having to remind him, and tells me good night.